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Choose Your Own Adventure™ - OcUK Style
- Thread starter Seraphim
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Wanting to make the most of your stay in here, you try to talk to one of the inmates. You spot Jailbird pacing back and forth, and try to talk. You start to mention the weather, but instantly the man starts talking loudly about the injustice of it all, and how unfair it is. Within seconds, the madman is a whirling, furious tornado of abuse – you can’t make out many words, but you manage to hear many your older brothers taught you when you were a nipper. As the demented nutter whirls around the enclosed space, the other inmates become agitated and begin their own loopy dances of swearing and abuse. The room is soon filled with whirling, whining nutcases, swearing they were innocent and that it’s all a conspiracy. Their rampant rotations shake the very foundations of the jail, loosening fixtures and sending cell walls falling. You see a gap in your cell wall has formed, and it’s big enough to squirm through! You exit the primitive jail, and work your way up the castle stairs once more.
You pass through corridor after corridor, observing the hundreds of rooms that this castle contains. As you go ever higher, some rooms are occupied – you spot Alphanumeric in one particularly well-equipped room, concocting some chemical from bubbling vats and intricate pipery. Opposite the scientist are three subjects, labelled A, K and E. One is staring at his hands and moving them slowly in circles, one is barely moving, and the other is jiggling around and hugging the other two. Such experiments must be immoral, you think to yourself. Another room reveals Gibbo, the insane part-man, part-machine who’s every waking moment is dedicated to wringing extra brainpower out of himself. Forever confined to the limits of his room, due to the giant copper heatsink he has affixed to his head, he slowly clicks the dial on the side of his head one click at a time. With every click, he visibly judders and his eyes dart around. The screams of the 16 24” Delta’s he has focused on himself rise in pitch with every click.
Distracted by the goings on in the room, you stumble into something cold, hard and cylindrical. “Howdy there. Y’fancy comin’ with me fella? I think there’s someone here who wants to speak with you…” a voice calmly says. You crane your neck upwards to be met with the sight many in Enchantia fear – the gunslinger Feek has his weapon pressed tightly into your stomach! Not wishing to upset the gun-wielding protector of Lord Gilly, you agree to his demands, at which point you are marched off to the top of the castle.
You eventually reach some deep red doors, with golden fittings and the letters LUFC inscribed on them. Feek stands in the way. “D’ya feel lucky punk? Well, do ya?”
A) Yeah
B) Nah
“Yeah, I feel lucky. Do you?” you blurt out, hardly thinking of the consequences. Before you even get a chance to draw a breath, Feek has drawn his gun, and fired. In a moment of confusion, you look around. No burning pain, no blood, no bullet. What’s going on? Just as you look up to lock eyes with your adversary, you feel a sharp pain in you shoulder, then your leg, and then your hand. It’s then that you see the bullet fly backwards towards the gun in Feek’s hand, and that’s when it hits you. The bullet fired was the very same ‘magic’ bullet that killed the President of the USA, John F Kennedy all those years ago, in that other world. And now it’s struck you three times. You fool. Rubbing his hands with glee, Feek opens the rich red coloured doors and saunters inwards – but you remember the pointy stick Piggymon gave you, and throw it feebly towards the towering gunsmith. As if possessed by the very same magic that powers the bullet, the stick accelerates wildly and knocks the gun clean out of Feek’s hand. Shocked, he wheels round, only to be caught on the stick’s return journey. It pierces the crotch of his trousers, skimming his delicates by millimetres, and impacts the wall with a resounding thunk. Powerless to escape, and held aloft by his pants, Feek hangs on the wall, a dejected figure.
After making some primitive bandages out of your clothes, you hobble into the grand hall through the conveniently placed door – your gaze wanders around the room, but is instinctively drawn to the massive dining table in the middle, and the ornate throne that is at the far end. As if anticipating your arrival, the throne swings round to reveal the very menace who has stolen Enchantia’s postcounts – evil Lord Gilly himself!
“’Ow do? ‘Spect thee’ll be wantin’ they posts back now? Well, prove thy worth!”
You’re bemused, befuddled, scared and a few other adjectives that don’t quite fit. You’re not entirely sure what he want you to do…
A) Dance the Macarena
B) Go on about how your postcount means so much to you, and how you’re less of a man without it
C) Do some Mr T impressions
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As you start spouting every Mr T impression that you can think of (which isn’t that many), a smile begins to form on the evil Lord’s face – at first, it’s merely a raised corner, then both corners, and then it’s a full, teeth-bearing smile. You’re shocked – all the stories that go around the village paint this man as being the most evil man since Hitler (and some rumours place him above even Hitler), and yet here you are, entertaining him with your talk of planes, fools, milk and pity. Maybe the rumours just aren’t true after all?
Suddenly, the smile disappears, and the stony expression returns to the face of Gilly. After a short silence, he speaks.
“I’ve been thinkin’ lad. I don’t need these posts, they’re meaningless, just numbers. Maybe you should give them back to who they belong?”
He hands you over a big bag, weighing several kilos, of postcounts. Looking through them, you see posts from all kinds of people. This is going to be quite a task, giving these back to the rightful owners. But you were looking for a job anyway, after you were fired from that call centre job for calling that customer a ******* ****.
You go back home, deliver the postcounts, and live happily ever after. And even evil Lord Gilly lives happily ever after, changing not long after your encounter into Happy-Happy-Fun Lord Gilly, who holds bouncy-castle parties for kids and gives money out to all who ask for it. Or something like that anyway.
THE END
Well, the end sucks, and that was harder than I thought, but what the hell. It was nice to be creative for once. Thanks for playing along, and reading all that crap I wrote. Bye!
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was fun mate , didnt expect the end , loved it m8 , you need to do more of these , top quality!
Jon
Jon
Man of Honour
You had 5*'s ages ago, and though it petered out a bit, its still a fantastic thread. Top show old boy.
I even got to be a baddie and a goodie. Superstar.
I even got to be a baddie and a goodie. Superstar.
Soldato
was some fine storytellin' words in that there tale lad!
thanks
thanks
Soldato
Excellent thread. More stars for you.
Soldato
Had me in stitches. Thank you for keeping me amused this evening
Commissario
Top stuff, I didn't get a chance to read this yesterday and I've just worked my way through it.
This deserves something that's not been seen for a while.
Have a banana
K.
This deserves something that's not been seen for a while.
Have a banana
K.
Soldato
Truely epic stuff!
Originally posted by Seraphim
Glad you all enjoyed it, even those of you who were turned into hideous beasts, freaks and dwarves. I'm all written out - I've written nearly as many words in this thread as I did in my final year project write-up.
come on lets admit it, you didnt change them much......
5 stars btw kept me entertained whilst i was at work
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