Page 19 of 50 FirstFirst ... 9171819202129 ... LastLast
Results 721 to 760 of 2000

Thread: The Never-ending Story Thread

  1. #721
    forums' resident drunk scotI

  2. #722
    Inside the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddeness tm, our heroes trudge on. After having gave away their position via annailation of an entire mountainside, the group decided to run like hell to the next part, deeper inside the fortress. Not before destroying the enemy tank and getting some semi-useful gear.

    Randy: *gasp* I think that *pant* this thing has *wheeze* run out of *gasp* ammo.

    Ante: That's ok, I think the rest of us pick up better weapons a few minutes ago.

    Randy: What? Gr...well, do I get one?

    Otter: Er...sorry, we gave the last one to Krig.

    Krig is holding what appears to be a shotgun of sorts, sniffing the barrel. Giving a look of disgust, Krig throws the gun tot he ground and promptly hacks it with his axe.

    Randy: *sigh* Back to using my massively useless laser pistol.

    Maybe: So where are we now?

    Cooked: We're deep within the Forbidden Fortress of Forbideness tm, where the mighty Spooky Taco dwells. We're to find the Spooky Taco and destroy it, and along the way shoot every minion of it along the way and uncover a secret plot that--oops, getting ahead of myself.

    Losien: Why do we have to destroy it? What did it do to us? After all, we've met nice taco people, like Enchilada Man.

    Phantom: (in an English accent)Yes, and what were you going to say about a plot? Tell me or I'll shoot.

    Cooked: I don't know! They change it all the time and it's never terribly crutial through the singleplayer experience. Most of the time...Why am I always getting threatened? And what's your real accent, Phantom?

    Phantom: (in russian accent)You ask too many questions.

    Geb: Oooooooooh! I wonder what this button does on the gun.

    Gebohq pushes the button and teh large gun begins to make a charging sound.

    Geb: Uh-oh...

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  3. #723
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    Randy: "What now?"

    Sem: "Just try pointing it at the end of the corridor and we'll see what happens."

    Phantom: (in a phoney German accent) "Vot if ze gun blows uppen in your face?"

    Maybe: "Surely it'd blow up in his hand since there's where he's holding it..."

    *Geb lines the gun up with the end of the corridor and waits for it to do something. Everyone else begins backing away*

    Cooked: *checks watch* "Not exactly a gun for frantic close encounters is it?"

    *time passes*

    Maybe: "It's still charging?"

    *Geb turns the gun over in his hands*

    Geb: "Aha! Found the problem- I pushed the 'Make ominous sound' button."

    Cooked: "What kind of weapon is that? What good is making an ominous sound?"

    *Geb points the gun at Cooked*

    Geb: "You've gotta ask yourself one question; Do I feel lucky? Well do you punk?"

    *Geb presses a button and the weapon starts making a charging sound*

    Cooked: "Argh! Please don't kill me Geb...I'll be nice, I'll even stop muttering about the failing of Multiplayer under my breath as we walk....just don't kill me!"

    *The barrel of the gun explodes in a pyrotechic kalidescope, sending a blue ball of energy crashing into the stonework above Cooked's head*

    Maybe: "I think you pushed the wrong button Geb..."

    Geb: " aim was just off by a couple of inches..."

  4. #724

    (NSP: Where's my main writers, man! I have only the new guy posting! Not that it's a bad thing, but doing another bump so close together to one on a page? That can't be a good sign...)
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  5. #725
    Registered User
    BY GOD.... This thread lives? have you no shame? certain things just can't last. YOU MUST ALL END THIS ATROCITY!
    TO DIE!

    Shutup brain or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!

  6. #726
    (NSP: Daaaaamn, even Ares posted. That's a sign people! Er, oh, as far as what you said Ares, well, I can't be certain, seeing how we're all rather un-productive, myself included, but the thread will proabbly go on for another 20 pages before ending. Also, I think the heroes are going to go to the dungeon-section anyways hehe.

    Oh, and have any of you recently read the original posts back on page 1-10 and such? It's rather sad that I laughed at my own posts, but the otehrs were pretty good as well. Anywhos, speaking of Ares, you could always write too. This is after all a comedy with little plot. *looks at Ares post* That was a lot of Forbideness. Sounded like a porn title...)

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  7. #727
    ooga booga booga
    I don't care about your name, Red. I don't want to know your name. If you survive your first three or so battles, then maybe I'll learn your name. Not before. I used to learn the names, but it was a goddamned waste of time. Soon as I'd get to know a puke, he'd up and die on me. These days I don't bother.

    -Horkin, Master-at-Wizardy

  8. #728
    Phantom stared at the hole in the wall that was just created by Geb's gun.

    Phantom: (In stupid kid accent)"Whoah."

    Everyone peers through the hole and they see an army of elite guard troopers standing guard. The AI for the troopers is stupid, as they do not notice the heroes peering through the hole in the wall. Everyone decides to try and sneak away very quietly as to not attract attention.

    I am the Shadow...
    The Jedi's Saber
    I am the Shadow...

  9. #729
    Registered User
    porn title eh?
    this porn story has gone on porn for too long and the porn lack of porn plot only makes it porn worse. I may do some porn writing porn but dont expect to see much of my porn writing, because i just can't write in this porn story...
    I had to do that... I just PORN had too.
    Shutup brain or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!

  10. #730
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Suddenly, a large gigantic robotic Chimi-changa bursts through a large stone door. It bounds up to the Elite Troopers and eats them. It also eats Ares for dessert. Then it turns to the ever-growing group of main characters, and stares at them lettuce, foaming from it's mouth.*

    *Gebohq wipes out a Star Trek(tm) Phaser and fires at the Chimi-Changa. Nothing happens.*

    Gebohq: Confounded! That Chimi-Changa must be evolutionarily resistant to phasers.

    Randy: Aren't almost all Alien Life forms evolutionarily resistant to phasers?

    Sarn_Cadrill: Of course not! There is no such thing as evolution!

    Morat: What! Any scientically minded Homo Sapien can rationally realize the validity of the scientific theory of...

    The Chimi-Changa, who hates both Religion and Politics threads eats Morat and Sarn.

    *Geb brings up his Ominous-sounding gun and aims it at the Chimi-Changa.*

    Ominous-Sounding Gun: DUN DUN DUN!!!

    *He pulls the trigger and is imediately sent flying through a large stone wall, destroying it. The energy ball misses the Chimi-Changa and destroyes a priceless portrait of some old famous person*

    Geb: That gun seems to have to much recoil!

    Phantom (In concieted foriegn scientist accent): Perceptive of you! But now's not the time to psycho-analyze the working mechanisms of made-up firearms. Our main characters are dropping like flies!

    Randy: Oh, they'll come back. They always do.

    Gebohq: Does anyone have experience with fighting food?

    Geb: Uh... I was in a FOOD FIGHT once.

    Waiter/Cooked/Cooked_Haggis: I am food...

    *The Chimi-Changa turns and bounds towards our heroes.*

    *Suddenly another wooden door opens. Out steps... Janitor Bob!*

    Janitor Bob: Uh... is this Salk Middle School?

    Cooked: You can't write YOURSELF into a thread. That's bad form!

    Janitor Bob: This is the never-ending story thread.

    Cooked: Oh, yeah. Never mind.

    *The Janitor turns and stares at the immense Chimi-Changa*

    Janitor Bob: Woah! Looks like somebody forgot to clean up the cafeteria.

    *Bob swings his pushbroom around, martial arts style. Then he bats the Chimi-Changa into a Geranium plant. Salsa splatters everywhere. The Chimi-Changa slowly gets up, wounded and angry...*

    [Edit: Made Geb and Gebohq, not talk to eachother, it seemed rather schitzophrenic. Also,made some things make a little more sense... but not too much]

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 04, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  11. #731
    (NSP: Woo-hoo! More writers! Didn't you write for Sith Hell, Janitor Bob? Well, anywhos, welcome, and continue (you're already doing a wonderful job of using plot holes and all hehe). So uh...yeah. Long live NeS! And uh, stuff.)

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  12. #732
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    (Re: NSP: No, I didn't write for Sith Hell, the only IS I've written for is a brief oblivious stint for Massassi Wars. I totally screwed everything up, because I didn't read up on Characters, and didn't write in the same style. But fortunately, I have more freedom in the Neverending Story Thread.

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  13. #733
    Sem the writer(looking up suddenly from his sulking pose at the bar): "Edgad! over there, look! someone has tapped into the NES PPV station! Our fighters are in trouble! Our sponsors are gonna be pissed! What do we do!?"

    GTW: "Our first duty, as always, must be to our characters, and we must protect them in times of need. Now as we all know, with out corporate paychecks....."

    OTW: "Why don't you just say our first duty is to ourselves?"

    GTW: "It sounds more noble!"

    MabTW: "I don't think anything sounds noble with your right hand where it is."

    MasTW: "Awwwww! That's not right!"

    GTW: "I didn't have a date! It was your idea anyway."

    STW: "That's not the point! Look, our characters are in trouble! Mase, Otter, you stop the PPV pirates, Me and Geb will go re-code the game to give our characters a way out."

    GTW: "But we don't know anything about level editing! Besides, why should we have to do all the work? Look at Krig!"

    KTW(Standing up on a table, stripped to the waist, and dancing with two random women): "You know you want me baby!!!"

    (all writers): "I'm not getting him."

    GTW and STW are staring at a TV screen of geometric shapes in a grid of xyz coordinates, with colored dots to represent players/items. In the fighter's world....
    Suddenly the Chimi-Changa attacks, looking more invoulnerable then ever. As all the fighters run away in a panic, they encounter an unexpected block in the hallway. The block suddenly turns into a sign, and default-secondary color writing appears on the beta-neutral colored sign. The writing slowly becomes legible: "Caution, wet floor! Do not subject to high voltages while food items are standing in the convinently placed puddles!" Out of nowhere, a ceiling tile gives way and an electrical wire colored similarly to the sign drops down into the water, apparently dead, and on the far wall, a single circut breaker appears, set in the 'off' position.
    Sem and Geb, simultaniously: "I wonder if they want us to subject the wet floor to high voltages while there are food items standing in these convinently placed, and oddly colored puddles?"

    The puddles suddenly start changing colors rapidly and go through orange, yellow, red, pink, and fushia before settling on teal.

    Sem and Geb: "Close enough."

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  14. #734
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Janitor Bob stares at the shimmering changing puddles, rather confused*

    Bob: So... I'm guessing that this isn't Salk Middle School.

    Sem: Nope! You must have fallen through one of those pesky Sci-Fi Virtual Reality Dimensional Gates!

    Bob: I hate it when that happens!

    Chimi-Changa: I WANT YOUR SOUL!!

    Geb, staring at the monsterous mountain of metallic food robot: Here you want my soul, you can have it. It's not worth much though. Even with inflated Black Market Prices it won't sell for more than about 2.50...

    Cooked: Well, enough of this playful banter. Let's trigger that conveniantly placed electical outlet.

    *The rest of our heroes look back at Janitor Bob, who has cleaned up all the puddles with a large grey mop.*

    Bob: There! Now, nobody will slip on that wet spot. Also, the floor looks reflectively shiny and clean!

    Chimi-Changa: RAAAR!!

    Geb: You just had to do that, didn't you Bob.

    Bob: Oops.

    *The Chimi-Changa makes to eat Bob whole, and digest him in it's acidic salsa juices. Suddenly Krig picks up the Chimi-Changa and stuffs it into HIS mouth)

    Krig: Burp!

    Cooked: Ooh. That's going to cause some indigestion and heartburn.

    Phantom (In T.V. advertising accent: That's why I always take Pepcid AC 'Provides quick relief for when you've eaten large radioactive robotic Food Items!

    *Phantom holds up a container of Pepcid AC. And grins in a very stupid and cheesy way*

    All Writers, including the newbie, Bob the Writer: Yes! The advertising sponsors will pay us extra for that!

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  15. #735
    *Ante, quickly growing bored with the running and the chasing and the eating and the pretty lady, er, uh,.... Ante, getting bored, spies a door merely marked "Storage". Peering into the blackness beyond, his eyes light up like a couple of stoners on April 20th.*

    Ante: Hmm... welding tools... glass... christmas lights... junk... everything I need... Guys, I'm gonna ask you all a big favor. I'm gonna be about 8 minutes or so in here, so could you watch the door?

    Maybe: Jeez... and I thought Otter was bad...

    Ante: What?! I got some work to do. I'll be write back.

    Otter: Yeah, besides, I'm much worse than Ante over there... HEY WAIT!

    *The door to the storage room slams shut and the bolt slides firmly into place. The sounds of drills, saws, arc welders, and other assorted power tools fill the otherwise completely silent hall. 8.23 minutes later, Ante returns with a triumphant look on his face, and a large piece of machinery in his hands. The machine was larger in the back, with a glass barrel and a small metal lid. Two handles graces the gun, one on the side with a firing mechanism, the other just behind the barrel.*

    Mase: What on earth is that?!

    Ante: This is my brand new Personal Singularity Generator, or PSG for short. It has a titanium alloy construction with a pure glass barrel to see the pretty energy flux. The Hyper-quad-lithium-plutonium ion core is the best part of this masterpiece. It acts as a power source which should last for 5.2 billion years, or until Krig smashes it. And it'll never get a battery memory!

    Geb: Uh... is it... you know... safe?

    Ante: Of course, wanna see?

    *With that he flips a switch. A low whirring noise is heard as the row of lights illuminate and the glass tube fills with a purple cloud of energy.*

    Ante: See this? It's pure energy held in a plasma state...

    Maybe: And that's safe?!

    Ante: Sure!


    Ante: I bet you don't even know what a singularity is!

    Maybe: A point or region of infinite mass density at which space and time are infinitely distorted by gravitational forces and which is held to be the final state of matter falling into a black hole.

    Ante: Ok, so you do know.

    *Ante, now somewhat perturbed at Maybe, picks up his PSG and swings it around.*

    Geb: So... how's it work?

    Ante: Well, once the generator has filled this chamber with energy, the firing mechanism forces it through this reverse atomizer, concentrating it all into one singular particle so massive that it becomes a singularity.

    Mase: Can I have one?

    Ante: Umm... only if you can find me another Hyper-quad-lithium-plutonium ion core. Or a Mr. Fusion... but if you found a Mr. Fusion, I'd just go back in there, get out my flux capacitor, turn this baby into a DeLorian and get us onto a new zany adventure...

    Otter: So, assuming that it really does work, how long does it take to generate a second singularity...? And how long does a singularity last?

    Ante: Well, it'll either take 15 seconds or 2 hours to reload, it's really hard to tell, seeing as I had to jury rig it with parts from some alien technology with a government label on the crate...

    Cooked: There goes any semblance of plot this single player mission had....

    Ante: And as for the time the singularity will last for, that all has to do with theoretical quantum phys... HOLY CRAP, A RAT!

    *Startled, Ante fires the PSG at a small rat scurrying away from out heroes. The hallway seems to bend and stretch, drawn towards the singularity, and the rat flies into it, stretching its polygons to the max. 5 seconds later the point of infinite mass explodes. The hallway is undamaged, but the rat is now covering its walls. Our heroes have not moved an inch.*

    Cooked: God bless FPS physics.

    Ante: Amen to that, brother.

    Bob: Yeah... but look at the mess I have to clean up now...

    *What will happen next? Will the PSG recharge in 15 seconds or 2 hours? Or somewhere in-between? Will the other characters get massive overkill weapons, or simply stare in awe at the pretty purple fluxing plasma in a centimeter thick glass tube? Why didn't I use italics for this? Perhaps these questions will be addressed in our next post!*
    Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt.

  16. #736
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Meanwhile, in the Domain of the writers*

    Sem The Writer: Okay, so our heroes have somehow managed to create yet another Gargantic gun previously thought impossible by modern science!

    Bob The Writer: Hi, guys. What are you doing!

    Maybe the Writer: Who's this?...

    Geb the Writer: *sigh* He's the new guy...

    Sem the Writer: Great. Just Great. Now when I abbreviate his name to BTW, instead of Bob the Writer, it'll look like the Internet Acronym: By The Way.

    Maybe the Writer: This is all your fault, Geb! You just had to go over and post that Help Wanted, Interactive Story thread on the Discussion forum... and now look what has happened!

    Bob The Writer(looking down at his notepad): But I've got some really good Ideas. For example, I've got an excellent way to build Character Development through tough Moral Dilemmas...

    Geb the Writer: Character Development...?

    Bob The Writer: Yeah! Also, the Character of Krig seems to static...

    Maybe The Writer (disgustedly): You are a newbie, aren't you!

    Sem The Writer: I don't think we should let him in...

    Bob the Writer: Uh... I brought some cookies...

    All other writers: He's in!

    Maybe: So, let's get the hazing rituals started.

    Bob The writer:...Hazing rituals?

    Sem: So, should we do the one with the toothpaste and hot fudge or the one with the Tar and Feathers...?

    Bob The Writer: Uh-oh...

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  17. #737
    (nsp) Cookies!!!!!
    Get 'im guys!!!!

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  18. #738
    < Our heros stand about the rat covered passage as they wait for the ungodly weapon to recharge...>

    Otter: Is it ready??

    Ante: For the hundredth time...NO!

    Otter: Awwww....

    Janitor Bob: Almost done cleaning the hall. Just gotta polish this here door knob and...

    Cooked: NOOO!!!

    Just then Bob opens the door revealing hordes of kamakazies and bezerkers ready to destroy our heroic heros...

    Bob: Opps...

    Geb: RUUUUNNN!!!!

    Cooked: Quickly, there is a shuttle pad at the end of this unbelieveably long hallway.

    Sem: Well then, let's make like a bananna and split.

    All look disgustedly at Sem...

    Sem: What?

    Randy: Just GO!!!

    < Our heros begin running for their lives down the unbelieveably long passage with Sem in the lead followed by Maybe, then Otter and Cooked, next Geb, then Ante and his WOMD (Weapon Of Mass Destruction), next Krig, with Randy close behind, and finally Phantom with Janitor Bob quickly closing from behind. Out of the corner of his eye Randy notices a faint glimmer of color shoot by on the wall to his right every few hundred feet. He spies another blotch of color and follows it finding that it is not just some random blotch of color, but an advertisment for toothpaste, followed by one for feminine hygene products, with more ads along the length of the wall...>

    Randy(running): Don't the people in marketing EVER give up?

    Phantom(running and speaking in a cheesy ad persons voice): Weee do the dirty work soo you don't have tooo...

    Randy: Oh shut up!!

    Otter: Are we there yet?

    Cooked: No.

    Otter: Are we there yet?

    Cooked: No!

    Otter: Are we there yet?

    Cooked: NO!!!

    Otter: Are we...

    Cooked SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!!!!!!!

    Otter: Jeez, your such a grouch.

    Ante: Should I fry him with my WOMD?

    Sem: Ohhh... PvP.

    Geb: WOMD... hehehe sound like WOMB.

    Ante(pointing at the hordes of baddies): Maybe I should "birth" some "labor" pain on those "children".

    Geb: All we should do now is "push, push, push", hehehe.

    Sem: "Frocep-tive" aren't we.

    Maybe: Will you three grow up already!!

    Sem, Geb, and Ante: Yes Mommy.

    Maybe: Grrr....

    Janitor Bob(yelling to the front of the line): If your giving birth up there, I've had training for just such eventualities...

    Otter: Are we there yet?

    < Will our heroes reach the end of the UNBELIEVEABLY long hall? Will baddies continue chase or will they be distracted by the ads lining the drab halls of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddeness (tm)? When will the puns STOP!?!? AAAAHHHHH MAKE THEN STOP!!!! AHHHHAHAHAHAAAAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!...erhm...These and more in the never-ending continuation of the never-ending story post of never-endingness-ness-ness (tm)>
    "Build a better level, and the JK community will beat a path to your door." - Randy

  19. #739
    In the writer's realm...

    Geb the writer: *as he's readying the tar to pout on Bob the writer* This won't hurt...oh man! That was a good one!

    Sem the writer: How many feathers you think we'll need?

    Geb the writer: *looks over at Sem holding a bag of feathers* Mmmmm...that should be good. What do you think, Bob?

    Bob the writer: *completely covered in duct tape, save the eyes* Mmmm-hmmm hmmph-mmm!

    Geb the writer: That's a good idea. I'll call in some god-aweful ugly strippers to dance in front of you.

    Bob the writer: MMM-HMMMPH!

    Maybe the writer: You know guys, this whole scene looks very bad for the two of you.

    Sem the writer: *now holding a whip*What do you mean?

    Maybechild the writer then takes a picture of all three of them.

    Maybe the writer: Ohhh, just that if I posted this picture I just took on the Internet with the title "Avalilable for your pleasure needs--

    Geb the writer: Eeeeee. Good point. We better stop before this looks worse. And why are you back here with us anyways? I thought you and Losien and the others were in the bathroom.

    Maybe the writer: We were. And now I'm finished. You have a problem with that? *pointing to the picture*

    Geb the writer: Not at all....but uh...where's the others? I know Masetto and theOtter went to stop the PPV pirates, but they're not the only ones.

    Maybe the writer: Good question...
    At the fancy restaurant...

    Randy the writer: Man, this whole night sucks.

    Ante the writer: It does? How come I didn't know it? I thought this was just a fancy restaurant.

    Randy the writer: *sigh* I meant it's been bad. It's not even like the entertainment is that good...

    Krig the writer is seen now on top of the center table with a microphone.

    Krig the writer: *In Barry White tone* This is to all the ladies in the crowd...

    Randy the writer: And then the other guys just bolt off! What are we to do?

    Just then, the waiter that had been serving them for the night walks up to Randy the writer.

    waiter: *placing a bill in front of Randy* Hope your night was satisfactory.

    Randy the writer: *looks at the bill* A thousand dollars?!?! Ante, I can't pay this kind of--Ante?

    Randy the writer looked around to only find himself at the table. Randy then grabs the waiter by the collar.

    Randy the writer: You're coming with me!

    waiter: Why?

    Randy the writer: Because you're the closest person I can take out my aggression on.

    waiter: Why does this feel familiar?...
    *At the PPV offices, Masetto and theOtter knock on the large doors to Ares' office.*

    Mase the writer: Hehe, we're handling "knockers".

    Otter the writer: Um, yeah. Let me do the talking.

    The large castle-like doors open to the immense office room. The vast amounts of unused shiny black floorspace spread from wall to wall (go figure). A sea of dark oak that was the desk was occupying the far end of the room. Covering one of the huge walls were many TV's that, at the moment, monitored the action the heroes of the Neverending Story were faced with.

    And in an executive-style reclining chair, Ares, the god of war and owner of the rights to the Neverending Story Thread and the Arena tm, sat, smiling at the two writers.

    Ares: Was there something you wanted?

    Mase the writer: Yeah, actually, I wanted to know. Are you really a god?

    Ares: Uh...yeah?

    Mase the writer: What's it like?

    Ares: Well for one thing, I can drive anything I want

    Mase the writer: *to Otter* Hehe, he said "drive"...


    Mase the writer: Um...are those live? *pointing at the TV's*

    Ares: Yes, they are. Most PPV events are, you know.

    Otter the writer: Which is why we're here...your Omnipotance-ness. Well, we think they're might me some pirates within the PPV station, and uh...

    Ares: Yes?

    Otter the writer: Uhh...actually, I hadn't really thgouht about what I was going to ask. Sorry to bother you then, we'll be off--

    Ares: Not so fast!

    As the writers try to bolt out of the office, the huge doors come crshing to a close.

    Ares: Mwahahahahahaha....

    Mase the writer: Now we're screwed...
    Meanwhile, in the Forbidden Fortress of Forbideness...

    Ante: Damn this hallway is long.

    Geb: An annoying. These ads are almost as bad as those pop-up ads on the Internet.

    Maybe: Look! I can see the end!

    Otter: No! Don't go towards the light! Oh wait, we're not dead--

    Cooked: Yet.

    Just then, teh floor gave way and our heroes begin to plummet down into teh inky blackness.

    Sem: You just had to say it, didn't you Cooked?

    Randy: It's OK, man. We'll either restart or find ourselves unharmed in a different place.

    Masetto: Uh...why can I see the architechture of where we jsut were above us like it's floating in a dark sky?

    Krig: Uh-oh...

    Janitor Bob: Look at me! I'm doing flips!

    Losien: It's all my fault.

    Janitor Bob: That I'm doing flips?

    Geb: *sigh*
    Geb the writer: Uh...Sem? I think we screwed up in the editing again.

    Sem the writer: Hush you...

    Will our heroes fall forever into the unprogrammed void? What will happen to the writers in the clutches of Ares? Can the writers back at the Massassi offices save our heroes? Where is Randy the writer going with the waiter? And what will happen to the writers still missing, such as Antestarr and Losien? Will Krig the writer find a new job as singer/dancer of the restaurant? Damn, that's a lot of questions. Find out, where you'll get more questions than the X-Files, here at the Neeeeever-eeeeeending Stoooory! Hehe, I like the echo effect...

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  20. #740
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *The good guy hero people continue to plummet down the Neverending Pit of Forbidiness. Fortunately for them, this FPS doesn't include Gravity Acceleration.*

    Everybody (With very poor acting): AHHHHHHHHHHH...

    *Without warning the Neverending Pit ends, on a kind of Mysterious intangible reflective surface. All the Heroes are trapped Kneedeep in it, unable to move their legs.*

    Janitor Bob: Woah. This is kind of cool. When, I wave my pushbroom like this... it makes a long trail of pushbroom images on the surface. And that trail doesn't ever go away.

    Geb: Your right. It's almost like when your in a Hall of Mirr...

    *Suddenly the entirety of the heroes, except for Bob of course realize their situation*

    Randy: HOMing!! Were stuck in every editor's and reviewers nightmare... HOMing.

    Maybe: Trapped! Kneedeep in the swirling relective murky slough of Poorly Adjoined Surfaces... FOREVER... ever... ever

    Bob: Is that bad?

    *Quickly Sem opens up his free copy of JED version 95. (Available at everywere)*


    *In order to make this scene more epic, opera-like music is piped into to the Writers office*

    Music: Coda! Heeta! Hoota! Mighta!

    Geb: Quick... Hit the F-10 key!

    Sem: I... can't... quite... reach... it...

    Geb: (with poor acting): You have to! It's our only hope.

    Music: CODA! MAFANTA!

    *With a heave, stretch, and a grunt, Sem throws his arm towards the keyboard, barely hitting the F10 key. He collapses with the monumental effort. A white dialogue box labeled Consistency Checker appears*

    Geb: What the heck is an Invalid Reverse Adjoin?!

    Music: Ravioli! Mussolini! Chicken Tetrizini!

    *Will Sem ever be able to succeed in successfully correcting his sloppy editing job? Or will he have to go to the Massassi Editing Forum for Help. Will Bob the Writer ever be able to get all the hazing related ducttape, toothpaste, super glue, and peanut butter out of hair? The only way to find out is to tune in Next time on Coca-Cola's

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 06, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  21. #741
    (The Viking Returns...)

    (ooc: yes! Fresh blood! And what tasty blood it is, too! Janitor Bob has begun a new era in the legacy of the NES!)

    Geb the Writer and Sem the Writer hunch over the computer, feverishly working to save our heroes.

    Sem the Writer:"Maybe if I delete this vertice..."

    Computer:"Warning! Hard-drive meltdown in 5... 4..."

    Sem the Writer:"Ooookay, maybe I'll just put that back..."

    Geb the Writer:"Hurry! We haven't much time!"

    Sem the Writer:"Well maybe you'd like to help a little if you're so concerned?!"

    Geb the Writer:"I am helping! I'm providing moral support!"

    Sem the Writer:"Oh, ok."

    A few minutes of feverish typing on the keyboard pass...

    Geb the Writer:"How is it that you're not using the mouse to edit?"

    Sem the Writer:"You know I... I have no idea!"

    Meanwhile, in the world of our Heroes, our Heroes are stuck in a poorly adjoined surface...

    Geb:"Curse this poorly adjoined surface! How will we ever escape this poorly adjoined surface?"

    Krig:"Krig not see now..."

    Everybody looks at Krig. Only the horns of his helmet are visible above the poorly adjoined surface.

    Ante:"Hey, look, only the horns of Krig's helmet are above the poorly adjoined surface!"


    Suddenly, the poorly adjoined surface gives way, and our Heroes plumet further. After falling for several minutes, they crash into a dark, dungeon like floor.

    Maybe:"Oh no! We've fallen into the dungeon area of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddenness™! Thanks a lot, Writers!"

    JanitorBob (whipping out two spray bottles from holsters on his legs):"Oh dear, this place is very dirty..."
    The world of the Writers...

    Geb the Writer:"Now look what you've done!"

    Sem the Writer:"How was I supposed to know that spilling Coke on the computer would cause the characters to fall into the dungeon?"

    Just then the door of the office slams, and Krig the Writer strolls in, several women on each arm.

    Geb the Writer:"What??? How...?"

    Krig the Writer:"Krig the Writer sing good."

    Geb the Writer:"What could posses a woman to go for an ugly, four foot tall hairy guy and not me? What am I missing?"

    Krig the Writer takes Geb the Writer off to the side, leaving Sem the Writer to work to save the Heroes unsupervised. Krig the Writer looks around, then brings a small bottle out from a pocket.

    Krig the Writer:"Krig the Writer have very good cologne. "
    Same world of the Writers, only different scene....


    Mase the Writer:"Or we will be screwed once he stops laughing..."

    Ares:"You fools! I am not Ares at all, but am in fact..."

    At this point, the Ares-like figure hesitates, reaches under his chin, and pulls off a rubber mask, revealing a swarthy, unshaven face with a patch over one eye and several gold teeth.

    AresImposter:"...Evil Pirate #1! Yes, you have fallen prey to our trap! I am the leader of the Pirates who are causing so much mayhem in the PPV system!"

    Mase the Writer:"No, wait, lemme guess! You're the leader of the pirates who've been causing so much mayhem in the PPV system, right?"

    There is silence for a moment.

    Evil Pirate #1:"You were deprived of oxygen to the brain as a child, yes?"
    Meanwhile, where Lt. Randy the Writer is running down a street, dragging the mysterious Waiter...

    Randy the Writer:"Huff... just a few more... pant... blocks..."

    Waiter:"Oh, good."
    Meanwhile, wherever Ante the Writer and Losien the Writer are...

    Losien the Writer:"Hm, I wonder where we are..."

    Whatever will happen to our semi-courageous, mostly-daring Heroes? And will our Writers survive their present predicament? Please sit in front of your computer, frantically clicking 'refresh' until the next installment of NES is posted...

    The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he wasn't real.

    [This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited June 06, 2001).]
    So sayest the Writer of Silly Things!

  22. #742
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    (NSP: Sorry that I've been posting almost every other reply)

    *The heroes cautiously look around the very Quake-like Forbidden Dungeon of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddenness™*
    The stone walls are cracked with wet moss, and dripping with unappealing toxic ooze. A disfigured womp rat scurries around and starts knawing on Randy's heel. Randy kicks it away. It bounces off a smiling rotting skeleton that looks a lot like Manny Calvera.
    The walls are covered with Pentagrams, but they are upside down, due to a construction error. Crudely scrawled upon the wall, in dried blood, are the words: "McDonalds: We love to see you smile.*
    Geb: Bah! We can't even get away from all the advertising here...

    *The entire place smells like Krig when he gets wet. The crack of whips and the scream of the tortured ring out amidst the steady hiss of disinfectant...*

    Sem: It's pointless, Bob. Just give it up.

    *Bob continues cleaning*

    Bob: NEVER! True Evil can only be defeated once it is fully cleansed from the face of the planet.

    *Suddenly, as if on cue with the words 'True Evil', the Official Forbidden Intercom System of the Forbidden Dungeon of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddenness™ activates and a screeching crackling, but baratone voice comes through the Intercom.*

    Intercom: So... I see my little Jalapenos have found my Dungeon Area...

    Bob (Whispering to Geb): I hate to give away potential suprising plot devices, but I think this guy's evil...

    Intercom: BWAHAHAHAHA! Evil is such a feeble adjective... I am the very embodiment of 'evil'. I am 'evil' Incarnate. I am 99\ and 44/100 Percent PURE 'evil'! I am 'evil' put through a food processor and reformed into myself!

    Maybe: You don't mean...

    Intercom: YES! I... am... the... SPOOOOOOOOOKY TAAAAAAACO!

    Krig: Mmmmmm. Taco.

    Sem (From the Fetal Position): NOOOOOOOOO!

    Spooky Taco: BWAHAHAHA! With every second that elapses in that feeble element that you call time, my thread gains infinently more posts than your pathetic, poor excuse for a thread.

    Geb (shaking): You can't win, Mr. Taco. In the end, the thread with constuctive humor, plot, an unshakable moral message, and lovable heroes always wins!

    Spooky Taco: BWAHAHA. Plot. That's like the Jalepeno calling the Hot sauce spicy. Besides. You feeble characters have no hope.

    Sem: You use the word 'feeble' much too much.

    Spooky Taco: Your feeble insults will not shake me. No one can save you... not even... Enchilada Man...

    *A stone wall slides up and reveals Enchilada Man upside down, and in chains.)

    Enchilada Man: Hi guys.

    Maybe: NO! Not enchilada man. *She turns to the speaker* Why you rotting putrid little wad of stale fermentation! You are destroying your own taco kind! I didn't think even you'd stoop that low.

    Spooky Taco: No low is so low that I cannot stoop to it. Hmm. Enough with the talk. I guess nows the appropriate time to release my diabolical demonic horde on you.

    *The intercom system shuts off. A metal grill opens and up floats... a hideous glowing red demon. His claws look like they belong on the end of the forklift. He is slowly drooling a pussy substance out of his mouth.*

    *Bob looks up from his cleaning, spins around, gets to his knee, and blasts the Demonic Guy with some disinfectant. The demon melts to the floor with a hideous scream and dissapears forever.*


    (In the Writers world)
    *Meanwhile, Randy and the waiter are slowly trudging through the backalleys of Silicon Valley.*

    Randy: I... could have... sworn... that this was the place.

    Waiter: What seems to be the problem, sir?

    Randy: I'm TRYING to find a good mugging spot.

    Waiter: Oh. Well, which one is it?

    Randy: The one by 5th and Elm.

    Waiter (with a sneer on his lips): Oh... that one. That's were all the... uncultured muggers go to rob their victims.

    Randy: Well, Mr. It'll be my pleasure to serve you, can you think of a better one!

    Waiter: All the High Class people choose one of 5 Exquisite places. Of course, each would depend on your taste and preference, but I would go with tonights special, the Alley outside the intersection of 1337 and HAx0r street.

    Randy (Forgetting that that is the alley next to the Massassi Forums Building): Okay. Can you take me there.

    *The waiter starts to drag Randy off*

    Waiter: No Problem.
    *Where Evil Pirate #1 has cornered Mase the Writer*

    Mase the Writer: Now that you've cornered me, now it's time to explain everything to me and the audience, since you're going to kill me anyways. But then I escape and know all your evil plans.

    Evil Pirate #1: Well, I wasn't going to kill you, but since you seem to be expecting it, I might as well.

    Mase the Writer (After hitting his head with his hand in regret): But you're going to tell me all your secrets right...

    Evil Pirate #1: No. I don't really feel like explaining anything today. All those details you have to remember, and the long speech makes my throat go dry. So... too bad. So Sad.

    Mase The Writer: Ah, but you've already revealed your true identity, so you might as well tell me everything.

    Evil Pirate #1: But that's where your wrong... because...

    *The pirate grabs at the edge of his face and starts pulling off the mask that he got off the set of Mission Impossible.*

    Evil Pirate # 1: ... I'm actually...

    *The mask comes completely off, revealing a very similar face, (it's still very ugly) but it's all hot from being under two layers of sculpted rubber all day.*

    Evil Pirate #1: Evil Pirate #2!!!

    Mase the Writer (rolling his eyes): Wow. Will the plot twists never cease?!

    *Will the heroes ever defeat the immense demonic Hordes of the Spooky Taco? Will Randy ever find an appropriate place to beat up the waiter and take his Money, Wallet, and Country Club Card? Is Evil Pirate #2 actually who he says he is? Or is he really Rosie O'Donnell in disguise? Will we ever find out where Losien the Writer is? Will the writers ever stop ending their closing sentences with Question Marks? There is only one to find out. But, I'm not going to tell you how.

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 08, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  23. #743
    I just wanna say, on behalf of all the writers who are too lazy to post, WTG Bob!

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  24. #744
    (NSP: Yes, go Bob! Keep on writing so that I, the leader, can take the credit--er--I mean, because uh....look over there! *runs away* And the NeS continues...)

    In the realm of our heroes, deep within the Forbidden Dungeon of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddeness...

    Geb: How will we ever defeat such a fiend like the Spooky Taco?

    Sem: Use the power of the writers! For they are a powerful ally...
    Geb the writer: Hey Sem, why don't we just edit out this "spooky taco" boss?

    Sem the writer: Now what fun would that be? Besides, I can't.

    Geb the writer: What do you mean "you can't"?

    Sem the writer: Well, for one, I didn't put in the "spooky taco" boss. And from my valient efforts at editing, it seems that the computer detects it as a virus.

    Geb the writer: What a dasterdly thing to do! Why would anyone ever want to do that?

    Sem the writer: You like asking broad and obvious questions, don't you?

    Geb the writer: ....and?

    Sem the writer: *sigh*
    After several moments of our hereos standing, seeming to wait for some divine providence to befall on them, the group falls into despair.

    Sem: Hmmm...the great writers seem not to be answering our pleas.

    Losien: It's all my fault.

    Geb: Stop saying that, sis. And your 'realistic' views that we're all going to die as well *throws arms up in the air as if it's a crazy thought* C'mon guys, let's go after the source of this evil.

    Our hereos leave the particular dungeon area, leaving Enchilada man by himself now, still upside down.

    Enchilada man: Uhhh...isn't anyone going to help me down? I can feel the blood flowing to my head...
    Meanwhile, Antestarr and Losien the writers seem to be lost in the blackness of the unknown.

    Losien the writer: Where are we?

    Antestarr the writer: Drunk and in a closet perhaps?

    Losien the writer: Somehow I don't think so.

    Antestarr the writer: Yeah, I was just hoping to give you some ideas.

    Silence falls, follwed by a loud thud sound

    Los the writer: Ante? Are you OK?

    Ante the writer: Yeah...though I was really hoping for some "cushioning"...

    Los the writer: I'm debating whether I want to be able to see anything but darkness right now...

    I think I'll do this Jeopardy style. The answer is "I don't have a clue". Stay tune for more, Same NeS time, same NeS place. Come on guys, it ain't that hard to think of the "right" question...

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  25. #745
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *In the Writers Office Building, Bob the Writer tiredly trudges into the room where Sem and Geb the Writers are editing. His skin is all red from having to take 7 consecutive showers in row, and using 3 entire bars of Dove™ soap, to get cleaned up from the hazing*

    Geb the Writer: You missed a spot.

    *Bob wipes some honey out of his hair*

    Bob the Writer: Thanks. *Bob looks over Sem's shoulder* Oh, you're editing! Making yet another Female Player Model?

    Sem the Writer: No, Bob, we're trying to hack into the hardwired mainframe of this Game to delete a heart-stoppingly evil, and seemingly invulnerable enemy to save our namesakes, not to mention the entire competive future of this thread.

    Bob the Writer: Hmm. I thought it would be something exciting, like a Canyon Oasis Mod. I was thinking of taking the original Canyon Oasis level, but changing all the colormaps, so everything would be pink. Wouldn't that be cool!

    Sem the Writer: *sarcastically*: Yeah... that would be so totally cool...

    Geb the writer: You edit, Bob?

    Bob the Writer: On occasion. For example, just recently I created a new enemy. I upped the AI, and gave it as many hit points as Max the Rabbit has. I also made his weapons extremely powerful... and this is the best part... I gave it Al McDonald's Taco Skin! I ended up putting it in on some level named, FFOF.Jed...

    *All the writers look at Bob in horror*

    Sem the Writer: Oh, well, at least he brought us those cookies.

    *Sem opens up Bob's plastic ZipLock of Cookies. He takes out one with a Smiley Face drawn on it with yellow frosting. He ravenously devours it.*

    Sem the Writer: MMMGH. Not bad. A little *COUGH* dry *HACK* *CHOKE*, though.

    *Sem's face turns green, and he grabs at his throat, then keels over, hits the keyboard, and falls to the ground, gagging*

    Geb the writer: Ah... he got cookie crumbs all over the keyboard.

    Bob the Writer*looking at the writhing Sem*: Whoops, I knew I shouldn't have used Windex™ as a replacement for sugar...

    Maybe the Writer: You put WINDEX in those cookies??

    Bob the Writer: Well... yeah. I was going to use floor cleaner, but Windex has more essential nutrients.

    Geb the Writer: Oh, great. He was our editor. Does anyone else know how to edit levels?

    Bob the Writer (modestly): Wellllll, you know that one level, Imperial Seige on Derra IV?

    All the other writers, except for Sem, who is retching and squirming on the floor: Yes???

    Bob the Writer: I played it.

    Geb the writer: Oh. That's nice.

    Bob the writer: Never could beat it though...

    Geb the Writer (looking at Sem): Maybe someone should give him CPR...

    Maybe the Writer *looking Sem over*: Um... well... I'll go call the poison control Center, okay.

    *Maybe walks to the other room, where the phone is. She quickly dials the number for the Poison Control Center, which she of course, has memorized, like the rest of the Phone Book. A female voice immeadiately comes on the line. Maybe can tell, from the sound of her voice, that her name just must be Martha.*

    Martha: Hello, Poison Control Center-

    Maybe the Writer: Hello, this is MaybeChild and we've got a serious-

    *Suddenly Maybe notices that Martha isn't listening to her and instead continues to talk*

    Martha:-please listen for the following options. If you want to find more information on the Poison Control Center please press 1. If you want to get dossiers on the Poison Control Center's employees please press 2. If your victim has overdosed on Prozac or Flinstones Vitamins please press 3. If instead the victim has been eating poisonous mushrooms or lickiing toads please press 4...
    *Meanwhile, in the bowels of the Forbidden Fortress of Forbiddeness, the Spooky Taco sits on a bed... er... a chair of lettuce. He laughs maniacally*

    Spooky Taco (maniacally): BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

    *The door to the Taco's lair swings open and General Gordita sprints in*

    General Gordita: *puff* *pant* Herr Taco, the enemy seems to be even stronger than we had previously considered. They have exited the main dungeon area.

    Spooky Taco: You have failed me, General. How could they defeat all of our Hordes of Hell-spawned Demons?

    *A pudgy food with glasses, tapping away at a computer answers.*

    Burrito Boy: Well... sir, technically our 'Horde' consisted of merely one demon, his name Melvin.

    Spooky Taco: You have failed me, Burrito Boy. What ever happened to our Demon Acquisition Project?

    Burrito Boy: Well... the D.A.P was canceled due to budget concerns. Demons these days cost a lot more than they used to. Market theorists say it's because of the Demon Monopoly owned by the DOOM franchise. Besides, Demons are really hard to work with, they are so temperamental, and they always want to be payed in souls, not in Cash or Check.

    Spooky Taco: If only I'd made it into that Taco commercial instead of that stupid Dog, then I could afford more competent help than what is available at my disposal right now.

    Burrito Boy: You could also afford more Demons...

    General Gordita: Well, Herr Taco, that's our situation. We desperately need suggestions from your intelligent greatness.

    Spooky Taco: Well, our Vegetable Corps is still functioning, am I correct?

    General Gordita: Correct.

    Spooky Taco: Well then. *The camera zooms in on the Taco's crazed face* Send in... the Asparagus Troopers!

    *In the Office of the Writers, Maybe keeps listening to the Martha the Recorded Poison Control Receptionist.*

    Martha: -If you want to speak to a person that can speak back, please press 37.

    *Maybe gives a sigh of a relief and quickly punches in that number*

    Martha: Please wait...

    *Maybe is put on hold, with nothing else to do but listen to the Barry Manilow music and wait*
    *Meanwhile, in the dark unknown, Ante and Losien the writers hypothesize on their current situation.*

    Ante: Hmm... It seems to be dark.

    Losien the writer: I know. Maybe were trapped Maybe we'll never escape. Maybe we're stuck in a dark deep hole with know food to eat and will slowly and painfully starve to death. Maybe the very essence of Space-Time has unraveled and....

    Ante the Writer: Maybe the lights just need to be turned on...

    Losien the Writer: But why were the lights ever turned off in the first place?

    Ante the Writer: I'm not sure. Although Silicon Valley is in California...

    *Ante feels around for the lightswitch*

    Ante the Writer: Here. I think I've found it...


    Ante the Writer: No, that's not it...

    *Without warning, a door swings open, casting a little bit of light into the room. A gangly silhouette reaches into the room, and clicks on the light switch.*

    *The room is bathed in a soft light. The writers are in a bathroom, but it is nothing like the bathroom they left. The sinks are silver and the toilets are gold. The floor has a sparkle that would make even Janitor Bob envious. Everything is automatic, the urinals, the sinks, the toilets, even the toilet paper dispensers. Ante and Losien the Writers stare intently at the incomer. He is clad in a buisness suit, and has a pocket protector made of 24-karat gold. He is a Geek, yes, but a Geek with Power. He is ominous, foreboding, and sinister. Of course, he would look a lot more ominous foreboding and sinister if he wasn't doing the 'I have to go to the Bathroom' dance.*

    Gates: Why! Why won't the stupid U.S. Government sell out! Why!

    *Gates dances over and goes into a stall, that incidentally has no toilet paper*

    Ante the writer: Hmm... It seems like we somehow arrived at the Microsoft building, most likely through one of those mysterious teleporting wormhole, that seem to abound in this thread.

    Losien the Writer: This is my fault. I shouldn't have given you that 'swirly'

    *A flushing sound is heard from Gates' stall* The door opens.

    Gates: Hundred Dollar bills just quite aren't quite the same as good old toilet paper...

    (NSP: Don't you just hate bathroom humor...)

    Ante the writer (Casually): Oh, hey, Mr. Gates.

    Gates: Oh... you're those Massassian Writers aren't you.

    Losien: Sorta. I don't write much anymore.

    Gates: Well, you won't have to worry the about your UGO friends anymore.

    Ante (suspiciously): Why not.

    Gates: Microsoft just recently bought out UGO. It's now under our control. We saw what they were doing and knew we must stop it.

    Losien: Oh. Well, that was nice of you.

    Gates (Chuckling): Heh heh. Yes... Well, see you at the Zone. Ta Ta!

    *Gates leaves the Microsoft Bathroom, muttering about the purchase of Australia.*

    Ante: Losien, this guy's motives aren't exactly pure. He wants to have complete Domination of the entire planet. And maybe the solar system, if he feels like it.

    Losien the Writer: Not only that, but he forgot to wash his hands!

    Ante: Exactly. We must do something to stop this corporation and save the entire world...

    *Losien and Ante, thinking the same thing, look at eachother and smile. They quickly start plugging up the sinks with paper towels...*
    *In the Massassi Office Building*
    Geb the Writer: Maybe, has anything Changed?

    Maybe the Writer: Well, now they're playing Backstreet Boys music instead of Barry Manilow...

    *Geb shudders*

    *Suddenly, the door is knocked down, and two Medical Personnel run in.

    Paramedic #1: CPS! Where's the victim.

    Bob the Writer: Don't you mean EMS?

    Paramedic # 2: Whatever.

    *The Paramedics run through the building, find the writhing and screaming Sem. Immeadiately, they load him on a stretcher, ducttape him to it, and run out*

    Geb the Writer: I'm glad he finally found medical help. If only Bob could find mental...

    Bob the writer (looking out of window): Hey! That's weird. They changed the Red Cross on the Ambulance to an Upraised Grey Fist.

    Geb the Writer: Does that fist just happen to have the word 'UGO' below it?

    Bob the Writer: Don't be silly.

    Geb: Good.

    Bob the Writer: Just the words UnderGround Online...

    Music: Bum! Bu Dum Bum!

    *"The Question to Geb's Answer is: What happens next?" "Congratulations, Bob, you've won a GAZILLION dollars! What are you going to do now!" "Well, I'm going to tune into the next episode of... The NeverEnding Story!"

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 09, 2001).]

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 09, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  26. #746
    (nsp: Sorry to do this, but the power of duct-tape must reign supreme in the hands of a true duct-tape master.... back to the story)

    STW, now finding himself almost completely wrapped in duct-tape is miraculously healed and stops spazaming. He was bound securely, and in the back of a dark ambulance with an insane number of guards that would never fit into a vehicle that size if it weren't for the plot holes, which gave the ambulance approxamately two cubic miles of internal space. The UGO kidnappers had, however made one fatal mistake- they over-used the duct-tape. The excess adhesive and weather-resistand backing seeped into STW's body, and utilizing his duct-tape mastery, STW became more powerful than anyone can possibly imagine, until the next post. Moreover, such a flagrant waste of duct-tape made him anngry.

    Before the dastardly UGAmbulance had even been put into gear, STW had broken free, and kicked out a side panel, so the side now read: "UnderGr ine". The thumb was also gone.

    Seething with rage, STW bit into the side of the UGAmbulance as it tried to pull off, and ripped off the "nderGr" panel. As the UGAmbulance sped down the street, STW, aided by a conviniently placed roll of duct-tape, began to outrun it, ripping off panels, pulling guards out of the back, and throwing both into oncomming traffic. The UGAmbulance driver, fear now writ upon his face, could think of nothing else but to head straight for his leader, Ominous man #x, and hope the UGAmbulance held up.

    GTW, calling from the window: "Sem! We need you to come back and help edit the level! Sem! Come back!"

    JBTW: "Let him go man, he's gone...."

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  27. #747
    *Ante and Losien, now several blocks down the hall from the bathroom they started to flood in the Microsoft secret bunker headquarters, come across a doorway marked R&D.*

    Ante: What's in here?

    Los: I don't know, but if it's bad it's not my fault this time.

    Ante: Well, maybe we can find some of MS's new technology to aid in our struggle for survival!

    *What our heroes didn't know was that R&D in MSSBHQ stands for "Rituals and Demonicsacrifice" not "Research and Development"...*

    *An image was sprawled out across the wall: a large pentagram with electronic candles at each point. In the center, on a pedestal, was a prototype X-Box.*

    Los: Oooo... what's this button marked "power" do.

    *Pressing it, the wall rotates sideways, revealing a torture chamber. Not for people, but electronics. Ante spies a GameCube in disrepair all around the room. Examining the parts, he finds a chip marked "Flipper", with the brand "ArtX" below the name. This chip is attached to 2 enormous electrodes.*

    Los: Now... what's this button do...?

    Ante: Stop... NOOOO!

    *But his screams were too late, Losien pressed the button starting the electrodes, and running 3.2 billion volts of current through the poor defenseless chip.*


    Los: Now THIS is all my fault...

    *What will happen to Ante and Los next? Will these evil rituals keep the GameCube from selling while at the same time increase the sales of X-Box? Will the bathroom continue to flood until all of MSSBHQ is submerged? Was this post just an excuse to plug the GC while at the same time renounce the X-Box and use a NeverEndingStory pun? Tune in next time for your chance to win a day's worth of Microsoft earnings... er, no, wait. Tune in next time to possibly find out the answers to these questions!!*
    Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt.

  28. #748
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Phil the UGO driver was having a bad day. First he had waken up late. Then his toast had gotten burnt. Then his wife got into an arguement with him about lawn furniture. Then he couldn't get his car to start and had to get to work on one of those insanely small portable scooters. Then he found out that the UGO employees wouldn't be getting their Christmas Bonus this year because they didn't kill their quota of Massassians. Then he found out that his Peanut Butter and Grape Jelly sandwich had gotten squished in his sack lunch. Then UGO had gotten bought out by Microsoft. Then the head of UGO and Microsoft had decided to declare Nuclear War on Japan. Then coming back from what should have been a normal regular clean-cut job, he was driving half an Ambulance at an illegal speed, because he was being chased by somebody that looked like he should be in the movie, "The Mummy" except for the fact that the creature is covered in ducttape instead of white cloth.*

    Phil (schitzophrenically): Well, Phil, if you'd wanted a 'safe' job, then you should have taken up stamp collecting.

    *The UGO ambulances makes a hairpin turn around a corner, still being chased by the Ducttape Mummy (Sem), and the muffler falls off*

    Phil: Even then, the stamps can give you paper cuts...
    *Randy the Writer is tiredly trudging behind the Waiter.*

    Randy: *Gasp* How much further. Can't we stop and rest... I'm tired... I'm thirsty... and... and... *crying* I wanted to go to the Tousche Station and pick up some power converters.

    Waiter (Doing jumping Jacks): Quit Whining. We've only got about a mile to go, Chap. Although I guess it is all uphill...

    Randy the Writer: I'm going to go to the Bathroom, in that StarBucks across, the street, K? You don't have to wait for me.

    Waiter: No problem. But just make sure that you look both ways...

    Randy the Writer: Yeah, yeah, I know.
    *As the Ambulance peels around the corner, Sem comes to stop. His pores have sweated all the ducttape resin, and he is now back to normal, although still Infuriated about the waste of Ducttape*
    *Randy the Writer steps out into the street and... WACK!... is hit by the UGO ambulance with a fleshlike THWAP. Not wanting to stop and get attacked by the Ducttape Mummy, Phil continues driving, Randy on his hood*

    Sem: We've got to stop that Ambulance!

    Waiter: You're right, there, old chap.

    Sem: What? You're against UGO too?

    Waiter: Of course not. But that person they just hit still owes me a tip!

    *The waiter snaps his fingers. A stretch limo the length of a ChickenBone Field drives up and opens it doors. The limo has it's own Jacuzzi, Swimming Pool, Helicoptor landing pad, Casino, and Indoor Track. Sem and the Waiter step in.*

    Sem: Gosh, I guess working at that
    restaurant sure has some fringe benefits!

    Waiter: Yes, but the life insurance policy is lousy.

    Chauffeur: Where to?

    Waiter: I need you to follow that grey UGO van, good man, and make it fast.

    Chauffer: Does this van have any distinguishing marks?

    Sem: Yes, it has several holes out punched out of the left side.

    Waiter: You seriously need to deal with your Anger Management Problem.

    Sem (turning to the Waiter): This is a nice car, but are you sure that we'll be able to catch them?

    Waiter: I believe you'll find this to be the ideal pursuit vehicle. At least as long as we don't have to turn any corners.
    *Randy the Writer blinks open his eyes, and groans, finding himself on the windshield of the UGO ambulance. (Of course he's not dead, important people in this story can only die if it's an Ultimate Act of Self-Sacrifice, that saves the Entire World.)*

    *Phil, his vision obscured by Randy, imeadiatelly turns on his Siren. He knows, instinctively, from Drivers Ed when he was sixteen, that it is dangerous to drive with a person on your front windshield. Quickly, he puts on his Windshield wipers.*

    *Fortunately for the good guys, this sort of thing was covered in detail in Randy the Writer's military training. He grabs onto the Windshield wipers to prevent himself from being knocked off*

    *Phil up the speed on the windshield wipers*

    *Randy hangs onto the fluttering wipers, like a Cowboy on an angry bull. With an air of menace Phil continues to turn up the speed.*

    *Finally, the wipers can take it no longer, and snap off, only a desperate grab onto the Mothers Against Drunk Driving ribbon on the antennae saves Randy from being dashed upon the sidewalk below. Randy squeezes on tightly, knowing that this thread will end in a cliffhanger*

    *[Insert dramatic, yet gut splittingly, humorous, teaser here]*

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 10, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  29. #749
    He broke your intarwebs.

  30. #750
    (NSP: Sheesh Bob, you keep this up and, well... you might catch up with how much I've posted on NeS word-wise Don't wear yourself out, hehe. And does anyone else think NeS would be a really cool JK level/mod? Er...yeah, and I'll post for the story again. Soon, yes, sooon....)
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  31. #751
    Suddenly, The Last True Evil burst into (insert wherever the hell everyone is at the moment) and screams:


    (So if one of you could type out a 15-page summary of the story so far, heroes, villains, innocent bystanders, and maybe underline the important bits so I don't have to read it all...cheers!)
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  32. #752
    (NSP: Losien wakes up after a really long...umm...I don't know what you'd call it...but...she's proud to be "Back by popular demand" well...although it's actually only by one person, whose name we won't mention...but it starts with a G, ends with a q, and has a eboh inbetween somewhere. :-) There aren't any guarentees that I'll be posting regularly...because I have a very busy life...I'm sure you all can relate to that one time or'll just have to deal with me on this. Umm.. I haven't really read anything up since...well, I don't even remember...but I'm guessing I've missed quite a bit. If anyone would like to maybe just fill me in with what might be happening, that would be great...or maybe I could try and find any little time I back up and read what I missed. Well,'s great to be back...for now. We'll see what happens. Kudos to those of you that have stuck with this! I salute you all! Have a great night. Hope to be back and ready to post soon!)
    When life hands you lemons, squeeze the juice into a squirtgun and shoot other people in the eyes.

  33. #753
    Yes, fill us both in so we can 'hit the ground running', so to speak.

    Gebohq??? Can I play tooooo, Gebohq??
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  34. #754
    (NSP: Seeing how we have another person interested in writing *The Last True Evil* and a re-tur-nee from ye olden times *Losien*, I think it's time to do what Sem suggested--a history. *clears throat* And now...)

    The Neverending Story Thread has momentarily stopped in it's normal posting to bring you this special edition look, back in time. The Neverending Story Thread, Coca-Cola, and the makers of Duct-tape, B.U.M.P., and mysterious swirls/plot holes, proudly present:

    *Cue in title theme music to 2001: A Space Oddyseey*

    The HISTORY of the Neverending Story Thread! Our host: Dr. Geb

    *In the inky blackness of non-descript settings, a spotlight lights up to reveal Geb (who conviniently has a doctorates to bump his status and ego), formally dressed, in front of a podium. He begins to speak.*

    "In the beginning, there was NeS. NeS made God, and said it was good--"

    audience member: Hey, what 'cha trying to pull on us here? And you're not Dr. Geb at all!

    "Er...." *tries to sound more emotional* "Of course I am! How could you say such a thing!"

    audience member: Because it's obviously you're Ares' clone!

    "Well your mother was a--"

    Due to technical difficulties, the writers have sacked the speaker of tonight's edition of NeS. They sincerely apologize, and hope the continetial breakfast that includes donuts and cookies that is being sent to you will make up for any emotional damages made by Ares' clone's monotone voice. We now continue with our special edition, with the real Dr. Geb.

    "Well, it is very difficult to trace The Neverending Story to it's original and ancient routes, but it is believed that before the times of the Interactive Story Board, there was a small thread called "Nostrodomous...scary stuff", started by a man that went by the name GA Farrent. He talked about how back in the summer of 1999, there was news that a verified comet's path could very well cross that of Earth's, and bring about the end of the world as we know it.

    Well, soon enough, Massassians, such as lightside, Snyderman, and Gebohq came to the rescue to volunteer to go in their spaceships and head for the comet to see if they could stop it. They soon found that ther was an amusement park, and worse, that the whole comet was sent by Grand Admiral Thrawn to threaten the Earth to surrender under the Empire or be destroyed. The plot soon involved a large number of people, became large and confusing, and most importantly, took up much space in the Discussion forums. That is when the administrators decided to make a forum especially for long and pointless stories like ours.

    Not before making it's new home in the Interactive Story Baord though was the Neverending Story Thread conquored by Ares, God of war. Ares decided that he had to use his powers to bring order to the mad plot and challange all bad writers to fight him in The Arena tm! Challangers like Gebohq and Galvatron dared to fight the god of war, though were never sucessful at defeating him. Ares went on to challange Rob X, however, and finding that he grew bored of fighting, slipped out of the fights and became the owner of all that is related to the Neverending Story Thread.

    Others entered The Arena tm in hopes of fighting themselves, such as Arbiter, Twin Suns, Antestarr, and Semievil. Then there were some who dropped by for their own reasons, such as Miss Fire, bug, Ping_Me, Space_Orca, Enchilada Man, Morris the Cat, theOtter, Maybechild, and Losien. Many fights occured: Geb vs. Rob X, Geb vs. Arbiter, Antestarr vs. Miss Fire, Semievil vs. Geb, and all against the dark forces such as the Darkside."

    (NSP: I didn't get NEARLY done with it, so if anybody who's read the entireity of the story wants to continue it (even if only a little bit), be my guest. If not, I'll continue on, and hopefully, I'll do outtakes! Until then, hope you like this stuff If not funny, at least informative I hope.)

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  35. #755
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    Heckler: What about Ernie and his rubber duckies... and... and Godzilla versus the Jolly Green Giant.

    Dr. Geb: Quiet. I'm getting to that part! Eventually, some writers decided that the Arena battles were too formulaic for their expanding creative energies. So inevitably, some of the writers works started to evolve into something that resembled a primative form of 'plot'. These writers were immediately beaten to death with Large Pointy Sticks.

    *Dr. Geb clicks to the next slide of the powerpoint- which shows the mandatory 'Screen Bean with a lightbulb over his head' clip art that is required to be in all powerpoint presentations.*

    Dr. Geb: Gradually, the characters migrated away from the arena, although sometimes returning there to spawn-
    to spawn new and violent action scenes that is. Ares, the God of war, retired and can sometimes still be spotted by observant tourists cruising around in his viper to this day. As the writers grew up the Arena became a less important focal point as they felt a deep primordial urging. An urging that must eventually biologically overtake all writers in their later stages of life. Yes, an urge to play Chickenbone.

    *The Powerpoint slideshow changes to another slide. This slide has a large yellow happyface on it. Bulletpoints come in by letter, with an annoying *wooshing* sound.*

    Dr. Geb: But it would take the writers many pages to finally find their ultimate purpose in life. This 'In between' time was called the 'Dark Ages', named for the constant black pits of plot hole that so often threatened life as they knew it. Even their visit to a 'Theme Park' was fraught with danger. For more on this dangerous period stay tuned, right after this.

    *A commercial comes on advertising Duct Tape*
    Salesman: Do you have trouble with broken tools, doors, automobiles, computers, limbs, persons, places or things,ideas, quality or feelings... well, we can fix that...*

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited June 13, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  36. #756
    *The Last True Evil is slumped over his lecture seat, sound asleep, with a sign taped to his head entitled 'I am wide awake and paying strict attention'*

    Dr. Geb: So then we travelled to Dimension X and battled Rob X's evil clone, Rob Y, not to be confused by Rob X's biological great uncle of the same name-

    TLTE: *LOUD snoring*

    Dr. Geb: *Ahem* But to cut a long story short, what's happening RIGHT NOW IS-

    (hint hint..)
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  37. #757
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Bob the Writer, who is genuinely interested in this history lecture, since he is no 'expert' on the NES thread himself, wakes up L.T. Evil. Then he passes him a note. After unfolding the oragami-like folding of the note, L.T. Evil reads it. It says: Or you could just read the last two pages...

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  38. #758
    STW spots the note and tells Dr.G, who makes JBTW read it outloud to the rest of the sleeping class. Then STW goes back to pondering the horriffic implications of Last True Evil's writer abbriviation: TLTETW

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  39. #759
    (NSP: Thanks for all that you guys have written to fill me in on what happened...even though I don't really remember any of that. LOL. I probably came after most of that stuff...but oh well. I think I'll read the last few pages..and maybe that'll help me. :-) Thanks. I'm not sure when I'll be posting. I don't really want everyone to know this...but to Gebohq in particular - whenever I'm about to get back into things I enjoy..."stuff" goes wrong...and today, everything that's "stuff" went wrong...everything possible. (well, except I didn't cut myself while shaving..but that doesn't matter) so..we'll see...hopefully it was just a bad day...and it doesn't continue. *kneels and prays* I'm trying! Thanks again)
    When life hands you lemons, squeeze the juice into a squirtgun and shoot other people in the eyes.

  40. #760
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    Dr. Geb: ...and so with the addition of Losien two important new elements were introduced to the thread (1) romance and (2) cheese and crackers. With these two...

    *Suddenly, the bell rings and all the audience rushes out to their next period, forgetting to pick up their trash and expended Orange Soda Cans*

    Dr. Geb: Be sure to come back next week for part two...

    *Meanwhile, Randy is still hanging onto the Speeding UGO ambulance from a Mothers Against Drunk Driving Ribbon*

    (NSP: Meaning, that I like this history, but lets get back to the actual story. Maybe we can break up dull parts with the History of NES.)

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts