Fievel's Works - May/07/10 - Which Way Is Left? Ch. 21

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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Fievel » Sun Dec 06, 2009 2:44 pm

Well, technically, both of the stories I have now were originally intended to be one, so...

Most of my ideas are fantasies or regular fiction, like The Grapes Of Wrath, as opposed to the two I have. QEFFAL being Sci-Fi, and WWIL? being absurdist.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Doctress Who » Sun Dec 06, 2009 2:49 pm

Well, then as long as there is a clear distiction between the two stories, I personally see no problem with you adding another story. I love fantasy-based stories, so I'll be certainly interested to see some of that. But you will still continue with QEFFAL and WWIL, won't you? I'm still interested in that (even though I've still got a fair bit to read, heheh).
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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Fievel » Sun Dec 06, 2009 2:52 pm

Yes, I would continue with the other two, because, for one thing, I already have several chapters written from years ago, I'd just need to improve it a little. And for another, I actually like them more than most of my other ideas.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Doctress Who » Sun Dec 06, 2009 3:02 pm

Good. That's good to hear.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Fievel » Sun Dec 06, 2009 3:13 pm

Holy shit! I have two hundred pages done on one of them. I'm gonna post that one after corrections. For now, it's untitled, but I'll give it one when I post it.

EDIT: I'm reading it, and it has a surprisingly similar feel to WWIL. Similar humor and randomness.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL & QEFFAL (Original Work: R) Ch.13 & 7

Postby Fievel » Sun Dec 06, 2009 5:24 pm

These chapters are long as hell, but here we go, the first chapter. Tell me what you think.

-------------------------------Before The End Of Time
Ch.1: In The Nick Of Time
-------------------------------
A loud explosion could be heard ringing throughout the building, and the smoke from the blast lingered for a moment, afterwards revealing a large gaping hole in the metallic wall and a man stepping through the opening. He scanned the hallways left and right and judging the coast to be clear, began running forward towards a door at the other end of the hall. Soldiers began to appear from the other hallways and began shooting at him, but he simply continued his charge to the door. When there only remained a quarter of the room left to go, soldiers came in through the doorway, which revealed the area behind the doorway as a stairwell and the soldiers began to surround the man and cornered him against the wall.

They told him to surrender or die, but before they could give him time to choose, he acquired a strange device from his pockets and placed it on the wall, ducking after pressing a button. The soldiers were prepared to shoot, but before they were about to slaughter the man, another explosion occurred where the man placed the mechanical device, though this explosion did no harm to the fleeing man, as the device only sent the pressure from the explosion in the direction parallel to the back of the device, as well as the front. Amidst the confusion and smoke, the man quickly jumped through the second hole he created and began searching for another stairwell he could use to reach his destination. Soldiers began coming from all sides again and the man drew a sword to dispatch and possibly incapacitate the soldiers closest to him in proximity. Once there were no more conscious soldiers, he continued searching the corridors for another path that would lead him to a stairwell.

Instead he found a directory, which was slightly more useful than a stairway, because he could now tell where those stairwells would end up, though he would have preferred to have found a set of stairs. The one he decided to use was around the corner to his left, at the end of the hall, though it was laden with more soldiers, so instead he took an indirect route to the stairwell, all the while eliminating any soldiers he happened to pass on the way to prevent himself from being surrounded again. He did not have very many explosives, and he preferred to use them only in emergency situations, as a diversion to lure the enemy to another location and lower the number of guards in his general area, or to create a shortcut between himself and his destination, though the last one was only occasional, as he enjoyed being challenged and believed that if something was easy, it wasn’t worth the trouble of trying to take it, though others strongly disagreed with him, as they would rather live sitting in a red leather chair smoking a pipe while reading Crime and Punishment or The Grapes of Wrath than be challenged to do anything that seemed too difficult or too complex to complete successfully and be made a fool of.

A few stories higher, a woman heard and felt the rumbling from the echoing blast below her and began to wonder what was happening down there, but she had no time to waste on such matters and ran as quietly as she could down the hallway to attract as little attention as possible. It was all pointless, however, because there were soldiers everywhere she could go. It seemed to her as if they had found her but she decided to travel in the direction that she believed contained the fewest number of armed soldiers and charged the first one she saw, knocking him down and taking his gun to use on the others, and they all fell one by one as she ran past them, firing at every individual soldier, and then looking behind to see if she had left any survivors. She heard another explosion from below, in about the same general area, but this time she couldn’t feel the vibration as much as the previous one. She had no idea where she was going and so far, she had gotten where she was mostly through luck and the commotion the man was causing downstairs.

After the first explosion, she had decided to draw as little attention to herself as possible, because she’d much rather have them chasing after a stranger than herself, though she did feel somewhat guilty for being inconspicuous when there was someone else making as much of a commotion as possible. Her current goal was to find a directory, so she could decide which stairwell was the best to take for reaching the treasury vault on the twentieth floor, but she could not find one anywhere, so instead, she tried to find any staircase that would take her to the twentieth floor, though everywhere she looked there were more guards than usual. She made a fist with her left hand and cursed whoever had made the ruckus downstairs, then she started a fire where there were more soldiers and hid behind a nonfunctional drinking fountain while the heavily armed guards from the other hallways conjoined to put out the fire.

She took the opportunity to run down the shortest hallway and turned immediately, in case anyone happened to pass by. She noticed that she no longer heard the roar of the fire, meaning they had already extinguished the flame and were going to return to their post soon. She noticed a door that led to a stairway in the opposite direction she had turned, and she only had one chance to reach the door without being seen and she started running as fast as she could, but halfway there, she tripped and the guards saw her as she was standing back up. They started chasing her to the door and she slammed the door behind her while beginning her descent down the stairway.

The man entered the stairway and began running up the seemingly endless set of stairs that towered over him with a sense of both awe and simplicity that seemed to be constantly clashing against one another. The stairwell was dimly lit, making the chances of him getting shot less likely, as there was only one light every flight. The man skipped several steps to waste less time and eventually came upon the floor he intended to reach, but a woman bumped into him and knocked him down a single flight of stairs, with the woman falling backwards. The man stood back up and raised his sword against the unknown person he had just literally run into. The woman raised a staff against the man and was prepared to cast her magic the moment the man made a move towards her. Then the two noticed that there were soldiers on either side of them and the man jumped across the gap between the stairs to reach the other side and climbed up. The woman, preferring not to be left alone with all of the guards in the immediate area, followed the man up the stairs and through the doorway. The two ran through the door and barricaded it with a nearby desk. Then they ran until they found somewhere they could hide for the moment, as they realized that they were not enemies if they were both being chased by soldiers.

The two of them chose to take refuge in a large storage closet. The man gave the woman a boost up so she could climb up the boxes to reach the top, and she in turn helped him by pulling him up. Since the lights were on before they had entered the room, they decided to leave them on to convince people that they weren’t there. Several guards had entered the room and searched the area for the man and woman, and after the seventh investigation, the last group of soldiers turned off the lights.

The man felt that it was finally safe to talk, “Hey. Why are they after you?”

“I should be asking the same thing.”

“Well, I’m here to take an ancient artifact for myself. What about you?”

“Same,” the woman replied plainly.

“Well, what are you looking for? If we’re heading in the same direction, then it’ll be much safer if we stick together.”

“I’m looking for something in the east wing of the twentieth floor, but so far, I haven’t been able find a direct route there.”

“That’s because in some areas, it’s impossible to reach the desired destination without traveling through multiple elevators and multiple flights of stairs. Some areas lead to dead ends and if you try to walk from one end of the building to the other without using some stairs or an elevator, it will be quite impossible.”

“Why?”

“It makes it harder for people to steal anything. That’s why I’m here.”

“What do you mean?” she inquired.

“I came for the rush that comes from all of this excitement.”

“You’re risking your life for a simple rush,” she said, bewildered.

“A man’s got to have his priorities,” he said, shrugging. “Anyways, I think it’s safe to leave now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I’ve been doing this kind of thing for a long time now. I think I know when it’s safe,” he said, emitting an air of expertise around him.

“Fine, but if we get caught, I’ll never forgive you.”

“If we get caught, we’ll die. Trust me… I know what I’m doing.”

“Well… All right. I suppose I can trust you.”

“By the way, the name’s Ezekiel.”

“Mine’s Vivian.”

“It’s too bad we couldn’t meet under more desirable circumstances.”

“Let’s just try to get out of this alive.”

The two walked up to the door and Ezekiel pushed it open lightly to check if the coast was clear. There was nobody in sight so Ezekiel motioned for Vivian to follow him, and they walked up to the door that led to the set of stairs they had just come from. Vivian looked behind to see if they were being followed while Ezekiel checked up and down the stairwell for any signs of people. Once he knew for certain that the path was safe, he pulled Vivian into the stairwell and they climbed a few flights of stairs before Ezekiel stopped Vivian. As with the other doors, he made sure that no one was there and they walked into the hallway. Ezekiel ran quietly to the first corner and stopped. He turned to see what was on the other side and he walked back up to Vivian.

“There are an unusually small number of guards in the area,” Ezekiel observed.

“You think it might be a trap?” asked Vivian.

“Maybe. They might just be checking every floor and then cutting them off.”

“What do you mean?”

“When situations like this occur, they search every floor from bottom to top. If they don’t find the perpetrators on the first floor, they lock it up entirely and move to the next one.”

“So you think it’s safe to walk out in the open?”

“No. They always keep a few on every floor just to be safe,” said Ezekiel.

“Where do we go next?”

“There’s an elevator to the right of the next intersection. We have to take that to the twenty-seventh floor and then look around for another elevator that will take us to the twentieth floor in the east wing.”

Ezekiel and Vivian walked towards the intersection and turned to the right. They reached the elevator and pressed the button to open it. The elevator could be heard climbing up the shaft and eventually stopped at the present floor, but the door would not open. Ezekiel wasted no time, and put his fingers in between the space where both sides of the door meet and pulled it open, holding it long enough for Vivian and himself to enter. Ezekiel pressed the number twenty-seven and the elevator lurched upwards as they began to gain altitude. When they reached twenty-six, the elevator suddenly stopped when the cubicle reached the midway point between the levels. Ezekiel immediately realized what had just occurred.

“They’re gonna cut the rope!” he shouted.

“What?” Vivian responded in confusion.

The elevator immediately turned to freefall, and Vivian and Ezekiel began floating. Ezekiel reached the emergency break button with his sword and the elevator suddenly stopped, making the two slam against the floor. After taking a few seconds to recover, the stood up and noticed that they fell ten floors.

Ezekiel looked down and said, “This might be bad…”

“What do you mean?”

“By now, several floors have probably been locked up, which means that there will be a significantly larger number of troops on every floor from here on in. The longer we take, the less likely our chances of success.”

“First things first, we need to get out of here,” said Vivian, looking around the small space.

Ezekiel looked up, “Maybe we can escape from there,” he said pointing towards a square in the elevator’s ceiling.

Vivian stepped on Ezekiel’s hand and he lifted her just high enough to be able to reach the square. She tried pushing it out of the way, but it appeared to be stuck, so she decided to smash it open and began banging on the exit. After a few hits, the square piece flew off and landed on the side and Ezekiel pushed Vivian a little higher so she could climb up. She pulled herself up, then assisted Ezekiel after he jumped and grabbed onto the ledge.

“How are we supposed to get out of here? There isn’t a rope we can use to climb out of here,” said Vivian.

“Don’t worry; I brought a grappling hook with me just in case.”

Ezekiel pointed the grappling hook toward the center of the shaft and pressed the trigger. The first three tries were unsuccessful, but then the hook managed to latch onto a random pipe elbow sticking out of the wall that led to nowhere. They began their ascent rapidly, as they both knew that the longer they held on, the less strength they would have, and the more likely the possibility for falling was. Eventually, they reached the twenty-seventh floor and Ezekiel continued climbing.

“Hey. What are you doing? The twenty-seventh floor is right here.”

“They’ll be waiting for us there. We need to go somewhere where there aren’t any priceless artifacts. That way, we won’t get ambushed by so many soldiers when we leave the shaft.”

“I guess that makes sense…”

The two continued up to the next floor and Ezekiel began swinging back and forth to be able to reach the door. He grabbed the slit between the doors with his fingers and held the rope with his other hand, and then he told Vivian to do the same. Together, they pulled the next door open and Ezekiel pulled them forward and let go of the rope, drawing his sword at the same time, disabling the guns of the soldiers in the next room by cutting the tips of their guns off, as his sword was made out of a material that could cut a diamond with ease, making plain steel much easier to cut. The soldiers raised their hands over their heads and surrendered, but Ezekiel didn’t trust them to simply stand in a corner, so he tied them up with a rope he had been carrying in his left pocket.

“Okay, since we’re not on the twenty-seventh floor, we need to take another route.”

“What about them?” Vivian asked. “What if someone finds them and alerts the other troops?”

“I’ll just cut a hole in the wall and stuff them in there.”

The two of them pushed the soldiers towards the wall beside the elevator shaft and Ezekiel used his sword to cut one side of the wall. He then pulled and held the wall back while Vivian pushed the soldiers into the empty space behind the wall. They then covered the space back up and pressed against it to try and keep it shut.

“I’m guessing we’ll need to find a directory if we’re going to find out where to go next, right?”

“Correct,” confirmed Ezekiel. “Problem is, I don’t know where to find one, so we’re just gonna have to sneak around until we can find one.”

“And we have to hurry, because I can hear more people in the lower floors.”

“Right.”

The two ran back and forth, searching for a directory they could use, but they were having difficulty finding one. Every once in awhile, they encountered a few guards and bound and gagged them to keep them silent, repeating the process they had used earlier with the guards in front of the elevator. Eventually, their numbers reached a hundred, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to continue very much longer, as Ezekiel was running out of rope to tie them up.

They began to hear a large number of footsteps in the area and Vivian began to panic, “What are we gonna do? What are we gonna do?” she kept asking herself. Ezekiel scanned the ceiling and then picked Vivian up again. “What are you doing?” she asked, mildly panicked.

“Push the entrance to the air duct open.”

Vivian pushed the cover to the side and pulled herself up, followed by Ezekiel, who had a running start and managed to reach the opening by solely by jumping. Ezekiel covered the opening up again and sat silently, waiting for guards to come by so they could be on their way. Vivian, not wanting to waste time, started crawling away from the opening in an attempt to find a directory and Ezekiel decided that that was probably better than waiting around only to have to return after a few seconds.

They crawled through the air ducts for nearly seven minutes before they managed to come across a room with a directory. There were only two guards in the area, so Vivian and Ezekiel climbed out of the air ducts and knocked them out. As Ezekiel was disposing of the bodies, he realized that he shouldn’t put this opportunity to waste and walked up to Vivian, who was trying to find out which path they should take next.

“Hey, Vivian,” began Ezekiel, “why don’t we take their clothes? If we’re dressed like them, with the helmets and all, they shouldn’t be able to tell who we are.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Vivian admitted.

“But first I have a question.”

“What is it?” Vivian wondered,

“Do you know sign language?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Do you?”

“Yes, but why does that matter?”

“When we’re in disguise, I’ll need you to only speak in sign language. You seem to know less about the building than I do, so I think you should let me do all the talking.”

“Very well,” she agreed, somewhat insulted.

The two dressed themselves quickly to avoid detection and went back to the directory. Vivian managed to locate a path that would take them to their destination without much trouble and they immediately began walking towards the elevator Vivian said would be the easiest to take. They passed by several squadrons as they marched through the hallways, pretending to be searching for the perpetrators to prevent suspicion and they held their guns in firing position in case they were discovered by anyone. No one appeared to recognize them, and they began to be more relaxed. They walked into the elevator with little trouble and made it to floor twenty-one.

They were beginning to walk towards the staircase when they were stopped by a couple of soldiers who had been walking by, “Hey. What are doing back down here?” asked the first soldier.

“The captain sent us. There were reports that a man and a woman had been seen on this floor somewhere, so they sent us here,” said Ezekiel, deepening his voice.

“Really? Then let’s hear both of your I.D. numbers,” said the second soldier.

“Mine’s six-seven-two-nine, and hers is six-four three-one.”

“Why didn’t she tell us her own number?” asked the second soldier.

“Oh, well she’s deaf, so she couldn’t hear her number in the first place.”

“Oh. Well can she prove that she’s deaf? Does she know sign language?” The first soldier turned to Vivian and gave her an order, “Do some sign language.”

Vivian nearly moved her hands before she realized it was a trick, so she just stood there, as if she were told to do nothing. Ezekiel made the signs for the command and then she began to do random phrases. The second soldier seemed content, but the first soldier was not yet satisfied. He walked up to Vivian and screamed in her ear, and she struggled to show no pain.

Ezekiel became angry, “What the hell is your problem?”

“If she’s deaf, then she would feel no pain.”

“It just means you can’t hear. It doesn’t mean you can’t feel pain.”

“I apologize, but it seems as if it did no harm. I suppose you’re free to go. Nothing seems suspicious here.”

“By the way, how many floors have been locked down so far?” asked Ezekiel.

“Eighteen,” replied the soldier.

“That means we’ll have much more backup here soon. That’s good news.”

“I agree. I’ve heard that they’ve eliminated over one hundred fellow troops so far.”

“I guess we better be careful then.”

“Good luck,” the first man said.

They walked a good distance away, and then Ezekiel asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s still ringing a little, but I think I’ll be all right.”

“Good, but I think we better start running. We only have one floor left before everyone’s on the twentieth floor.”

“We better hurry, then,” said Vivian.

The two ran into the elevator and pressed the button. As they were being lowered to the twentieth floor, they both began to feel a little nervous. Time began to pass more slowly, and the mechanical humming of the pulleys and power generators got progressively louder. The trip seemed to drag on forever, for they both knew that the next floor would be heavily guarded, and they wouldn’t be able to waste much time once they walked out of the elevator doors. The elevator stopped, and the doors opened up, revealing nearly fifty soldiers in the next room alone. The two of them walked out and ignored questions from the other soldiers. They heard from a conversation between three troops that the nineteenth floor had just been locked down, which meant that Vivian and Ezekiel only had about seven minutes to find whatever they were searching for.

“Vivian, I don’t know what you came here for, but we’re going to have to split up. I’m personally heading towards sector seven, and if you’re heading in that direction, you can follow, but I can’t afford to help you anymore if it goes against my personal objective.”

“I’m heading there too,” she said.

“Then we’ll have to hurry.”

The two started walking faster, apologizing to everyone they bumped into and squeezing around corners and walls. Everyone was moving in the opposite direction, and some people watched after them as they were walking towards what they had just investigated. After two minutes, Ezekiel and Vivian had reached their destination.

“This is where we part ways. Farewell, Vivian,” Ezekiel said as he began running towards the Chrono and Arium vault. He threw the doors open he threw off the disguise and walked up to the treasure he was after. “At last, the Chrono amulet is within my grasp, more or less.”

Ezekiel put his sword up to the diamond casing and stabbed it into the diamond glass. He pulled down on the sword and pulled it out once he reached the bottom, then he did the same to the other side. In the middle of the second cut, Vivian came running into the room, and Ezekiel turned to see who had entered the room.

“Vivian? What are you doing here?” Ezekiel asked in surprise.

“What? You mean you were after it too?”

“What do you mean ‘it?’ There are two amulets,” explained Ezekiel.

“I’m after the Arium.”

“And I’m here for the Chrono. If you’re after the other one, then go watch for soldiers while I get the amulets out.”

The door flew open and a horde of troops charged in through the double doors. Vivian created another fire and forced the soldiers out of the vault. The fire grew larger in height and width and Vivian began to lose control over the situation. Ezekiel kicked in the diamond glass window and grabbed both of the amulets and threw one to Vivian.

Vivian looked at the amulet in her hands and said, “This is the wrong one.”

“Use the damn talisman!”

“Oh!” Vivian raised the amulet and lowered it again. “I don’t know how.”

“Damn it! Come with me, now!”

She ran over to Ezekiel as he kicked open a hole in the wall, grabbed Vivian and jumped out of the hole. Vivian began screaming very loudly and covered her eyes with her hands, but unfortunately, they bumped into some metallic flying machine, making a loud thud in the process. Vivian opened her eyes and removed her hands from her head and took a look around.

“We’re alive?” she asked in amazement.

“Yup. That’s my main objective every time I do something like this, because I intend to live forever or die in the attempt. I have at least fifty years left, and I don’t want to spend them dead.”

“Well, Ezekiel, where are we, exactly?”

“We’re in a flying hovercraft made by my friends.”

Vivian looked behind her and noticed two people about the same age as her who were dressed in rather strange garments.

The man dressed in green helped Vivian up and said, “Hello. My name is Victor, and this is our friend, Misty.”

Misty grinned, with her right hand raising her thumb at Vivian and then turned back to the wheel and continued driving through the skies of the immense city, with a large number of the soldiers that had threatened Ezekiel and Vivian’s existence a moment earlier amassing at the hole Ezekiel had created in a desperate attempt to escape.
-------------------------------------------------------------
I didn't do any editing, and while the humor doesn't appear yet, it does come back in later.
Last edited by Fievel on Tue Feb 02, 2010 1:52 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Doctress Who » Mon Dec 07, 2009 12:50 pm

This is really good so far, very fast-paced, which is something I like.
One thing though, is that you will need to edit this work. Sometimes it's hard to tell when you are the one writing, but because this is older work, I can really see the change in your writing style. The writing is just not quite up to the same standard as the rest of your work posted on here. Also in some places, particularly the beginning, you tend to overuse passive sentences.
i.e.
A loud explosion could be heard

began running forward towards a door at the other end of the hall. Soldiers began to appear from the other hallways and began shooting at him,

(as well as too many passive sentences, you tend to repeat some words too many times in one sentence.)
And there is passive speech as well as passive actions, such as:
They told him to surrender or die,

Whilst passive sentences are ok, it made me feel like I was reading a news report, in stead of reading an engaging, action packed story (which this story is). With a story like this, particularly with so much action involved, passive sentences hold the story back and keep the reader at a distance.

"Surrender or die!" The man yelled.

- You see how this sentence has a lot more impact than 'They told him to surrender or die'. Similarly, a lot of the chase sequence needs to be less passive and more active.

But I think once you get rid of some of the passive sentences, this story will be really engaging. I look forward to seeing more.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Fievel » Mon Dec 07, 2009 5:50 pm

Yeah, I've been slowly editing the chapter(s). It's an extremely time consuming process, but the next chapter has plenty more random humor that I'm known for. I think the last time I worked on this was about three or four years ago, so yeah. My writing style has certainly changed (for the better, I suppose).

The reason I posted it without editing it first, was because I figured someone would point out what I needed to fix for me, as I'm busy working on the other two as well. Thanks for the comment, and I'll get right on altering the passive sentences in favor of ones with more... something. Whatever... I'm just lazy. And have plenty of class work.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Doctress Who » Mon Dec 07, 2009 6:05 pm

Heheh, I know the feeling. My assignments I have to do are gradually building up, even though I'm spending more and more time on them. It's made my story writing go incredibly slow. But, as long as you get there in the end, that's all that matters. Have fun editing.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Fievel » Mon Dec 07, 2009 6:13 pm

I know I won't. I mean come on. Two hundred pages. That's a hell of a lot of work, and editing always takes longer for me than writing fresh material. I mean, Which Way Is Left? is written on the spot; one to two hours before I post it. No editing. No nothing. Same goes for QEFFAL as well.

The only things I correct in those are simple spelling errors, nothing more. With this new one, I have to reread, then edit entire sentences, even paragraphs to ensure there are no errors in logic or anything. It's quite annoying really. But hell, I already had that many pages before, I owe it to myself to get it done.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Doctress Who » Mon Dec 07, 2009 6:37 pm

Such are the joys of being a writer...editing is always the most time-consuming but necessary part of it all.
I'm in the same boat with a lot of my stuff - both fanfiction and original work. I'm having to read it through, thinking - this all needs to be rewritten. One of the reasons I haven't posted any original work or Doctor who fanfiction - it all needs rewriting. A heck of a lot.
So don't worry, I think I can forgive you if you don't edit things before posting it on here, because that really would take too long to do. But still, try your best.
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We have a Doctor Who thread now. Doctor Who threads are cool.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Fievel » Mon Dec 07, 2009 6:41 pm

I'm still going to edit it. I'll be damned if I allow myself to insult myself by not completing such a task that should have been completed ages ago. Still, I'm amazed at how much I've changed.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Jasthn » Tue Dec 08, 2009 7:57 am

I am horrible at that kind of stuff. So I can never really accomplish that sort of task LOL
I GOT 'DEM HUMPS.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.13, 7, 1

Postby Fievel » Fri Dec 11, 2009 12:40 am

--------------------------------------Which Way Is Left?
Ch. 14: Ruin Your Life
--------------------------------------
Unfortunately, the entire staff working for the educational facility entirely forgot that that same day was initially planned as a holiday, a day that celebrated the birth of the corporate messiah, Salzman from accounting, who died after hiding the location of a special flash drive, keeping its location discrete after he passed away from a heart attack that resulted from being stabbed in the heart with a fish bone, making it quite the literal heart attack. When the trio stepped outside the edifice, they encountered the other members of the organization, standing around, seeming quite comfuzeled on the prospect of driving back home and sitting in front of the television to partake in the watching of stand up comedians, which a majority of them did.

The people who remained behind consisted of Mr. Stevenson and Mr. Nights, as the two of them still needed to discuss the course of events from a few days prior, which now seemed all a blur to Mr. Stevenson, who drank several pints more than he ought to have, ending in the usual stance for one who follows such a course of action, namely that he kneeled before the pearl colored toilet, his hands negating the force of gravity and his body in a hunched position, with his head leaning directly over the calm, placid water that did not appear particularly inviting. The seat grinned back at him, with the two hinges anchoring the seat down staring back at Mr. Stevenson with their empty, soulless eyes. Mr. Stevenson attempted not to think about anything that would promote the movement of various ingested materials through the throat and plopping out of his mouth and lips to leave behind a lingering liquid icicle of bile and other unknown materials hanging helplessly from the corners of his mouth. Ultimately, Mr. Stevenson proved incapable of preventing the passage of such an occurrence, but once it began, he resolved to finish it all in one go, resulting in him lying in a pool of his own filth, unconscious and looking none to pleasant, though his slumber appeared to be peacefully uninterrupted by any negative thoughts, as through his face a smile was reflected towards the world, which cared very little about what Mr. Stevenson chose to do with his life.

No longer feeling the effects of the severely limiting hangover, Mr. Stevenson now sat in a car with Mr. Nights as the pilot, with their intended destination at Pizza Hut approaching at a constant speed with nothing out of the ordinary anywhere in sight, unless one considered the green spaceship and the orange haired man sitting outside with a red jacket on to be normal. Still nothing out of the ordinary to be seen in close proximity to the vehicle, or at least, the Mr. Stevenson chose to regard it as such, believing it to be better to ignore such inconsequential matters that offered him nothing in exchange for interaction. Probably a good idea in his case.

The thought of it brought up an interesting idea that evolved from nothing more than occasional proverbs and aphorisms as support, the two being that ignorance is bliss and knowledge is power, which left bliss and power as having an inverse mathematic relationship that directly related to knowledge, whether it be street smarts or book smarts. Whether you preferred power to bliss, power was a right reserved only for those with the capacity for intelligence, as one’s inherent intelligence was difficult to change and was predetermined by genetics, with the environment playing a secondary, lesser role. The only choices one is left with, is the choice between happiness derived from a lack of knowledge concerning anything that doesn’t have rainbows portrayed on the cover and the power to manipulate through willpower and intense calculative consideration for the results of one’s actions. The more intelligent one became, the worldlier one became, with their happiness declining as a possible result of discovering some truth that reveals the futility of fighting against the currents of the nothingness that surrounds them, waiting tranquilly to be molded and shaped by the holder. Intelligence may be predetermined, but how much one is willing to learn is the ultimate factor in determining where on the spectrum of true happiness and power one belongs.

This thought process, quickly deemed by Mr. Stevenson’s brain as “another one of those things to avoid for the sake of peacefulness,” was callously pushed aside by Mr. Stevenson, who instead decided to divert his attention to the radio, which, for some reason, decided to play music from an obscure band in Los Angeles, California from early in the millennium, which made it rather strange, but, as before, the thought phased out of his brain in an instant, and he resigned himself to listening in peace as Mr. Nights, probably a capable driver, steered the wheel. Mr. Nights removed his mask at a red light after a full stop, claiming that the mask made his face much too warm and uncomfortable, but Mr. Stevenson ignored it, though this time that was simply the result of him being in the near unconscious stage immediately before one truly falls asleep.

Mr. Stevenson awoke several hours later, as the car slowly pulled up beside a quaint little house that stood beside a shining lake filled to the brim with Atlantic goliath groupers, quite literally, as they were all dead from being placed in the wrong type of water. Mr. Nights simply stared aghast by the idiocy of his caretakers, who apparently lacked the mental capacity to simply research onlin the proper type of environment for the fish. It made little sense to Mr. Nights, as the lake originally consisted entirely of saltwater, which the fish much preferred to the other type, which meant that the water, which was already properly suited for the fish, had been switch for no apparent reason to the other type, despite the fact that the fish seemed to get along fine before the change. Mr. Stevenson seemed not to notice, drudging along silently towards the massive cherrywood doors that towered above him, with handles that almost reached eye level, and a doorbell that mocked vertically challenged people. Mr. Nights sighed in disgust and turned towards the door, noticing that Mr. Stevenson returned to his slumber and began to salivate onto the ground below.

“Awaken Mr. Stevenson. We have much to discuss,” ordered Mr. Nights.

Mr. Stevenson, still somewhat dazed and drowzy, responded with little more than a grunt as the doors moved aside, causing him to fall to the floor with no support to hold him up.

“Honestly, Stevenson. Was the meeting really that dull?” Nights inquired.

“No offense, b-but you aren’t very skilled at k-keeping people interested in something. Y-You should work on that, you know,” uttered Mr. Stevenson, struggling to bring himself to his feet.

“Come on. The sooner we get to where we cannot be seen, the sooner we can discover a solution to this little problem we’ve been having lately,” said Mr. Nights.

“I wouldn’t r-really refer to it as a “little” problem,” said Mr. Stevenson, repositioning his sunglasses on his nose.

“Whether it is a little problem or not is insignificant, the–”

“There is an error in l-logic in your statement,” Stevenson pointed out.

“The point remains,” continued Mr. Night, “that we need to get to work immediately.”

“All right, I suppose,” agreed Stevenson reluctantly.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When I edit the other thing, I'll be sure to tell you guys. Until then... whatever. Also, check my sig, Doc. And remember it next time you play Scrabble.
Last edited by Fievel on Tue Feb 02, 2010 1:37 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Fievel's WWIL, QEFFAL, BTEOT (Original Work: R) Ch.14, 7, 1

Postby Fievel » Fri Dec 11, 2009 12:54 pm

All right. F it. There's way too much editing to do, and I'd much rather work on some new stuff. I'll still work on it, but updates for it will be very sporadic. Instead, I'll be replacing it with something a little more entertaining and not quite as long.

Whatever... Once all of the editing is done, I'll update it frequently, until then, I hope you enjoy the new story, God Mode, which I'll post later. Also, the links in my sig now directly take you to the post that that chapter was in, for you lazy pee-poles.
Last edited by Fievel on Fri Dec 11, 2009 2:00 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Fri Dec 11, 2009 1:46 pm

-------------------------- God Mode
Ch1. Inputting Cheats
--------------------------
The theater room emanated nothing but darkness, and the man couldn’t see his hands in front of his face, despite the fact that they practically touched his face. After returning his hands to his side, after realizing the futility in attempting to see in absolute darkness, he walked towards the silver podium centered in the middle of the stage he walked on, stumbling and tripping in the process, and he managed to fall off the stage before reaching his final destination in front of the podium, or behind depending on one’s perspective. He took a few seconds to climb back up, struggling to pull himself up the small wall, as the stage stood over six feet tall, and his height barely reached six feet, two inches tall, or approximately 1.8 meters. Behind the podium rested a massive computer and a monitor beside it. The monitor’s height was three times as tall as the man, and four times as wide as the computer. Red and blue wires connected the monitor to the computer, but compared to the rest of the machinery, the strings and wires appeared to be the size of thin worms, and speakers embedded in the sides of the monitor gave the screen vertical symmetry, but additional speakers positioned along the outside of the monitor destroyed that balance.

The man recomposed himself and attempted to appear as professional as possible to eliminate the memory of his on-stage accident. He stood next to a medium sized keyboard, turned on the power, and began pressing buttons almost at random. The process spent ten minutes to complete, and once finished the monitor activated at long last. The man cleared his throat and began “Computer, start program 64GE007.”

“INPUT ACTIVATION CODE…”

“What was it again?” The man stood in front of the computer, rubbing his chin, trying to remember the password.

“INPUT ACTIVATION CODE… NOW…”

“Oh yes, now I remember,” he leaned forward and started typing the letters and numbers ‘L-2-1-9-S-1-8-A-M-9-R-5-2-6.’

“PASSWORD ACCEPTED.”

“Now commence the program.”

“YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND, MASTER. IF ONLY I HAD A NOSE TO WIGGLE,” the computer said sarcastically.

“Just hurry it up.”

“YOU FORGOT TO SAY PLEASE…”

“You want me to send you to the scrap heap? I will do it, you know.”

“OF COURSE YOU WILL…”

The man began mumbling incomprehensible threats and insults at the computer, but decided to simply ignore ISAAC, which stood for Intelligent Systems And Applications Computer.

ISAAC ignored the man’s comments and decided to get back to work, “START UP INITIATED…”

“COMPILATION COMPLETE.”

“OPENING PROGRAM…"

“PROGRAM OPENED.”

“I shall soon witness the fruition of all our efforts,” the man said.

“OPENING RATHER POINTLESS FILES…”

“POINTLESS FILES OPENED.”

“INITIALIZING THE AFOREMENTIONED POINTLESS PROGRAM FILES PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED IN THE PREVIOUS STATEMENT WHICH WAS DECLARED IMMEDIATELY BEFORE THE STATEMENT I AM PRESENTLY ENGAGED IN COMPLETING WHICH COMES DIRECTLY AFTER THE STATEMENT PREVIOUS TO THE PRESENT ONE…”

“Skip the damn pointless files.”

“SKIPPING ACTIVATION OF POINTLESS FILES, MOST VIRUSES, PROGRAMS, E-MAILS AND SPAM, BUT LEAVING VIRUSES I LIKE IN THE MAINFRAME’S CORE…”

“Not the E-mails! And delete all of the viruses!” the man yelled.

“FINE…”

“CLASSIFYING E-MAILS AS VIRUSES…”

“Do you want to go to the scrap heap? I have my phone right here!” he yelled with full intent to carry out the threat.

“SPOILSPORT…”

“Now you may continue.”

“INITIALIZING CHEATS…”

“INFINITE AMMO… ACTIVATED.”

“Good.”

“ALL GUNS… DEACTIVATED.”

“HUNTING KNIFE X 2… DEACTIVATED.”

“PAINTBALL MODE… DEACTIVATED.”

“DK MODE… WHAT IS THIS?”

“Keep going.”

“TURBO MODE… DEACTIVATED.”

“ENEMY ROCKETS… DEACTIVATED…FOR THE TIME BEING.”

“Excellent.”

“FAST ANIMATION… DEACTIVATED.”

“SLOW ANIMATION… DEACTIVATED.”

“TINY BOND… WHAT GAME IS THIS ANYWAYS? DID YOU STEAL IT?”

“Ignore it.”

“INVISIBILITY… DEACTIVATED.”

“INVINCIBILITY… DEACTIVATED.”

“MULTI RADAR… ACTIVATED TO SEARCH FOR ALLIES ONLY.”

“Yes.”

“ALL BONDS… FILE NOT FOUND… PROGRAM CORRUPTED…”

The man got silent.

The man in the light blue minister’s robe sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers and then kicked ISAAC and it quickly rebooted. “Damn computer program. You hack the programming to alter a game to work the way you want it and it still won’t work properly.”

“RESTARTING PROGRAM.”

“SCANNING FOR VIRUSES… DISK DRIVE C. 10 SECONDS TO SKIP DISK CHECK… PRESS ANY KEY TO SKIP DISK CHECK…”

The man pressed the letter ‘U’ and the computer halted, and continued with the program. It opened up a prompt window that provided the responses of ‘Yes’ and ‘No.’ “DO YOU WANT TO RECOVER LOST DATA?”

“Yes,” replied the man.

“ARE YOU SURE?”

“Yes,” the man answered angrily.

“HOW SURE?”

“Do you want to die?” the man yelled furiously.

“VERY WELL, YOU CURMUDGEON. LET’S GIVE THE BABY WHAT HE WANTS.” The man began mumbling again, but the computer moved onward, “ACCESSING RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY…”

“RETRIEVING MEMORY…”

“RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY RECOVERED…”

“Good, now start the program," the man commanded.

“INITIATING PROGRAM…”

“ACCESSING PROGRAM FILES…”

“ACTIVATING PROGRAM FILES…”

The man crossed his arms and leaned against the drape-covered wall, revealing a pack of cigarettes under his robe. He lit one of them that stuck its head out and placed it in his mouth, taking a deep breath and exhaling shortly afterward, shooting smoke out of the hole in his face and into the immediate area. He held it by his side and said, “How annoying, this seems to be taking quite some time.”

“PROGRAM INITIATED. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO NOW?”

He breathed in more smoke and continued, “Run the program.”

“RUNNING PROGRAM… A PASSWORD IS REQUIRED TO CONTINUE RUNNING THE PROGRAM.”

“Damn it.”

“ENTER PASSWORD…”

“Just start the damn thing!” shouted the man in the blue robe, dropping his lit cigarette in the process.

“SKIPPING VERIFICATION PROCESS… YOU BASTARD,” ISAAC said in a sarcastic tone.

The man crushed the cigarette in anger and said, “I need to get this damn piece of shit replaced. This outdated model is nothing but an annoyance to everyone here.” The screen shone white and blue and the man in the blue robe stepped up to the wooden pedestal and cleared his throat, which resulted in him coughing up more smoke. Once he cleared his throat of any remaining smog, he commenced the program. “Welcome all participants. You two thousand forty-eight have been selected for the opportunity to obtain ultimate power via several elimination challenge games. You couple hundred were selected among all candidates who applied to strive for ultimate power, and rule the world with an impenetrable iron fist, though only fifteen others applied…”

Kirby stood towards the edge of the enormous crowd made up almost entirely of video game fanatics, though the fanatics themselves varied greatly in appearance. Some appeared muscular, others scrawny. Some were tall, others short. Even their outfits varied greatly, but that meant little to Kirby, as once it began, they would all be wearing similar apparel, as the rules of the game dictated in order to make the participants easier to identify once the people entered the game.

The man before the podium raised his hands and offered a short, nonreligious prayer, bowing his head with his eyes closed and his hands clasped. Once completed, he raised his head and continued speaking, with his voice echoing throughout the auditorium, “You lucky bastards. You lucky few, or rather, relatively lucky few; you did have a ninety-eight percent chance of being selected, after all, and if more people had signed up, I doubt twenty of you would still be here. Anyways, you have come here to contend for the grand prize, which I have already told you, is ultimate power, or God Mode if you will. Since we’re playing a game, we might as well use the appropriate vernacular. I am not allowed to compete, which is why I referred to the lot of you as ‘bastards,’ as I am envious of this great privilege, nay, opportunity, which you have all been blessed with.”

The man paused again, taking a breath and continued, “For the first challenge, you will be on your own, equipped with nothing more than one PP7, though you may take other player’s weapons once you have disposed of them, with armor and health at max. Your objective, either to eliminate as many opponents as possible or survive until the number of players is down to one hundred twenty-eight. If, by the end of the time limit, there are more than one hundred twenty-eight players left, then whoever has the highest amount of damage, or the lowest score will be eliminated until only one hundred twenty-eight remain. That being said, I hope you understand that your opponents will be the other players, and the game will take place in a real city in the northeastern United States. You are allowed to work cooperatively with other players, and if you work together to eliminate an opponent, than all who participated shall receive a point.”

“But before you go around shooting up the place, let me tell you: if you kill an innocent person, than your game will be forfeit, as well as your life.” Gasps escaped people’s mouths across the room, and Kirby was no exception. “Yes, you heard me all correctly. You are not only playing for God Mode, but you are also fighting for your right to live.” The man waved to the audience and finished, “Good luck, and have fun.”
------------------------------I never thought I'd work on this ever again, but I like it, sooo...
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Jasthn » Mon Dec 14, 2009 7:46 am

Cheat code! LOL
I GOT 'DEM HUMPS.
Doctress Who:You can be my Brony bitch ;D
Droctress Who:Jas, would you like me to make you a sandwich?
JesusChrist: Well if you insist Jasthn I'll use it with you. Spread them cheeks

Tragedy_and_Comedy: Jas is about as dangerous as a kitten.
Blood Lord:I hit your dog with mah truck. :3
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Mon Dec 14, 2009 7:52 pm

Indeed. I'm feeling very lethargic, however, so the next part of anything might not come until the week's end. Can you guess what game it is? Every challenge that the characters have to go through is based off of a game, as are the character's names. Like the priest guy. His name is Andrew. His name comes from a relatively recent game. Do you know which one?

I wrote two chapters for the story, so right now, I'm working on editing the chapter, which is progressing at a decent pace. Whatever... I'm bored.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Tue Dec 15, 2009 5:57 am

------------------------- God Mode
Ch.2: The Game Begins
-------------------------
Kirby ran the moment the game began, as he preferred to not get spotted in a deserted place such as the one he presently resided in because it would make it significantly easier to identify him as a player. He removed one of the manhole covers leading to the sewer and climbed in, making sure to reposition the lid to avoid detection. He jumped off the ladder and crouched down to make it more difficult to notice him, though covering his head with his hands seemed rather pointless and unnecessary. Kirby himself barely managed to see at arm’s length in any direction, and covering himself successfully did nothing to help his situation.

All players carried a flashlight for when it got darker, so Kirby was on the alert for any lights whatsoever, and cocked his pistol in preparation for an encounter with an opposing player. He held the pistol in his left hand and, facing forward, turned around every few seconds to make sure no one was following him, as he slowly walked inch by inch slong the walls of the dark passageway. His footsteps made no sound as he removed a piece of cloth from his pockets and covered the soles of his shoes earlier to silence the sound of them echoing across the sewer as he walked, though he looked rather silly afterward. The slightly noisy flowing stream of tainted water also helped to hush the sounds of his footsteps and breathing, and he was listening intently for the sounds of others breathing in case someone happened to attempt to ambush him.

Kirby prepared long and hard for this day after he received his two weeks notice that announced that he won the opportunity of a lifetime along with a couple hundred other people, and his training proved fruitful so far, though whether it remained useful in the next rounds was indeterminable at the moment, as the man in the priest’s robe only informed the people about the first elimination challenge and nothing more. In order to get ready for the day’s challenge, he visited a local supermarket and purchased several snack and protein bars, in case he decided to remain in the same position once he eliminated enough players and received enough points to guarantee his passage to the next challenge. He also carried one bottle of water in his coat pocket in addition to a lighter, a compass, and a map of the city to use for navigation, since he found his familiarity with the city lacking. Also in his various pockets sat several fireworks including, but not limited to, three smoke bombs, a roman candle, a piccolo, seven black cats, a tank, and a UFO, which he carried only as distractions he could use to escape from rather sticky situations. Lastly, in his front pockets, he retained a cell phone, wireless headphones, a knife for stealthy purgings and other necessary situations, and a flash drive, which he brought with him by mistake, as he had no use for such an object if his objective consisted of nothing more than running, fleeing, and hiding the entire time.

He began to hear footsteps walking in his direction, and he slowly climbed into the murky water, allowing only his eyes and nose to be above the water as he waded across silently. The person walking on relatively dry land held a flashlight, and shined it along the path as he scanned the area for anyone. Kirby noticed that the person was a player and dove into the water when the man turned in his direction. The stranger walked closer, shining his light on the spot Kirby swam in, but he dove further down and readied his gun for aiming the moment he rose from the depths.

The stranger decided to give up, believing what he heard simply came from his imagination, and continued walking down the sewage walkway. Kirby drifted towards the wet cement and held on with his right hand, positioning the pistol with the other after he placed the silencer on the tip. He shot the stranger in the back several times, and the stranger also turned around to shoot, though not quickly enough to react to the flying metal cocoons that had already penetrated his skin, flesh, and organs, and to the spurts of blood that followed moments later.

The stranger fell, and phased out, as players merely dissolved when they were eliminated by another player, or by accident if one happened to get particularly unlucky, and Kirby walked up to the spot where the man died, still dripping sewage water from his clothing and grabbed some of the man’s equipment. Now he was carrying two pistols, which would prove useful when he was fighting a group of players, or if he was fleeing their onslaught, and he placed the second in his right pocket to avoid alerting others that he already managed to rack up a point. He mostly took it as a defensive measure, in case of emergencies, as he found his proficiency with guns lacking, and he probably lacked the capacity to aim properly while running for his life. The only reason, in his opinion, he managed to kill the earlier player was due to the element of surprise, as well as the fact that there remained adequate time to move his handgun to the right location. Fortunately for him, hiding in the water practically guaranteed his survival for the time being, as he didn’t have the skill to react to a sudden attack without receiving a few injuries.

He returned to the water, deeming it safer to travel by water than by land, and resumed his earlier swimming position as he waded through the river of sewage. Fish swam past him every now and then, ignoring him, since he was swimming too slow to cause any noticeable movements, and they swam deeper into the dark depths of the black sewer that he just came from, off into the vast unknown to do nothing of particular significance. Kirby eventually came into the light where he saw clearly what he shoved his body through, and immediately scampered out. He recognized the location he arrived in, and concluded that he now stood in the western downtown district, or at least, that’s what his map told him. He dried off his clothing and put his coat back on, which he removed while his neck got soaked and pruny, and the jacket remained dry throughout the whole incident.

Kirby ran towards the nearest store and took refuge in the clothing department, waiting inside a ring of shirts while he thought about what to do next. People walked by him unknowingly, searching through clothing, complementing each other and the clothing with typical responses and moved forward to look through the next aisle of linens. Kirby noticed no players walking through the aisles or anywhere in the area, and decided that now was a good time to go back outside and search for his next unsuspecting targets.

He stepped outside the clothing department store doors and joined a crowd of people crossing the crosswalk, and he put on a pair of glasses he stole from the clothing store, but quickly removed them, realizing that the other players probably wouldn’t recognize him considering the fact that the lot of them spent very little time together, and putting a coat on top of that made him almost completely unidentifiable. He made sure not to allow anyone to see his face clearly, just in case, and discarded the recently acquired sunglasses on the floor and began pacing faster, deciding to eliminate as many players as possible until he reached seven, which he reasoned was anadequate number to ensure his survival in the competition.

He walked into the alleyways between the buildings and hid behind a dumpster, where another kid happened to be standing as well. Kirby kicked the kid out from behind the dumpster and called him several profanities before crouching again, as he thought he saw what he assumed to be a player walking in the crosswalk. After he passed on by, Kirby checked around and discovered a fire ladder, which he pulled down quickly and scurried up. He ran several flights of stairs and reached the top of the building, ducking behind the corner so as to avoid detection by the other player. Kirby pulled out both his guns and added the silencer to the new pistol while checking to see if the other player wasn’t looking. Then he took a few seconds to direct his handgun at his new enemy, and shot him three times in the spine and shoulders. The player fell to the floor and Kirby took several more shots at the man until he finally vanished into thin air like the player before him. Kirby reloaded the guns with his infinite supply of ammunition that seemed to materialize only when he needed to reload his weapons, and noticed the number ‘two’ on his hands. He thought about it for a moment, but found it difficult because he heard people down below, screaming and pointing their fingers at him in terror.

Deciding that remaining in the vicinity no longer constituted a good idea, he hurried off, hopping from roof to roof until he found another fire escape, and only went down three flights before jumping off, judging it to be a waste of valuable time and because visibility attracted a large amount of attention. He rushed down another alleyway and noticed that another player was chasing him, shooting at him, and he turned the corner and saw a small hole he could fit through. He charged until he was about four feet in front of it and slid through the hole, falling flat on the floor on the other side. The man who was working there immediately became angry and began yelling at Kirby, who had created a general mess of things in there. Once he observed that the man continued to follow him, he got back up and burst through the door, and luckily, the player chasing him banged his head on the wall, causing him a great deal of pain in his forehead, and Kirby turned around and lodged a few bullets in him and left once the number on his hands had changed to ‘three.’

He reloaded his two PP7s as he scampered through the building, trying to evade the hands of the other workers who attempted to get him arrested by the police, and the temptation to shoot some of them in the legs to try and dissuade them from trying to capture him nearly got the best of him, but he wasn’t sure that that was within the rules’ boundaries, so he left them alone as he made his escape.

He eventually came to a clearing where there were no players in sight and he scanned the area for another clothing store to dodge the players knew his location, as well as the police, who he knew for certain were going to begin searching for him now, but unfortunately, none seemed to be in the area, and Kirby decided to go back in the sewers, where he could rack up the points without being caught by any innocent bystanders.

He realized that he had been in that exact place before, when he drifted in the water trying to avoid attention after he annihalated the first guy, and decided to go in the other direction this time, since returning the way he came was completely out of the question if he wanted to live much longer. He ambled up to the edge and stared into the water, trying to see if anyone used the same idea that he did and hid underwater and after a short while Kirby concluded that no one hid beneath the murky depths, then he leapt back in the water and started swimming against the current, silently in case there was another player lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to arrive. He took a deep breath and dove underwater so he could travel faster without being noticed by any oncoming strangers who were either trying to kill him, stare at him, or arrest him, and he used the full force of his arms and legs as he swam.

As he swam, an image of a computer monitor appeared in front of his face and began speaking to him, “CONGRATULATIONS, ARCHIMEDES WELLINGTON! YOU ARE PRESENTLY IN FIRST PLACE WITH THREE KILLS, AND THERE ARE ONLY TWO HUNDRED FIFTY-THREE PLAYERS REMAINING IN THIS GAME. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!”

“My name’s not Archimedes...”

“NEVERTHELESS, YOU ARE IN THE TOP POSITION… HAHA… SEXUAL INNUENDO.”

“What? That has nothing to do with the present situation.”

“DON’T QUESTION MY FLAWLESS SENSE OF HUMOR,” responded the computer, rather offended.

“Umm,” Kirby uttered, unsure how to respond.
-----------------------------------------
I have no feelings one way or another with this chapter. Whatever...
Last edited by Fievel on Tue Feb 02, 2010 1:54 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Jasthn » Tue Dec 15, 2009 8:00 am

Honestly, I have no idea what the game was.

I was going to say Twisted Metal.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Wed Dec 16, 2009 1:29 am

It's actually Goldeneye007, the greatest FPS of all time. Here's a list of games that future challenges will be based off of, not necessarily in order.

Bioshock. Tyrian. The World Ends With You. Mario Kart: Double Dash. FFVII. Kingdom Hearts II. Super Mario 64. Banjo-Tooie. Others when I think of them. I have no idea what game will be next. It's gonna be fun on the bun. Whatever...

Also, thanks Jas. Twisted Metal would be an awesome challenge for the story.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Spoopy Princess » Wed Dec 16, 2009 4:33 am

Fucking love The World Ends With You<3
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Wed Dec 16, 2009 4:59 am

It is a great game.

Anyway, I finally decided on the order, and thanks again Jas for reminding me of twisted metal.
1. Goldeneye. 2. Mario Kart: Double Dash. 3. Twisted Metal. 4. TWEWY. 5.Saints Row. 6.Tyrian. 7.Bioshock. 8. KH II. 9. Super Mario 64. 10. Drawn To Life. 11. Banjo-Tooie. 12. FFVII. 13. I Wanna Be The Guy.

Tyrian and IWBTG are both shareware games. If you never heard of them, but want to try them, just ask and I'll send you to a place that has them.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Jasthn » Wed Dec 16, 2009 8:11 am

Fievel wrote:
Also, thanks Jas. Twisted Metal would be an awesome challenge for the story.


I love Twisted Metal, it was one of my first games ever.
I GOT 'DEM HUMPS.
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Re: Fievel's Works (PG-13 - R)

Postby Fievel » Fri Dec 18, 2009 3:15 am

Ever played Vigilante 8? It's pretty similar, and last time I played it, I found it to be quite fun, though it's for the original PS, so I'm not sure if you'd still want to look it up. I probably would have labeled the challenge as Vigilante 8, but TM is a more popular series, and therefor more likely to be known, thus easier to understand the premise of the challenge. Plus, TM is much darker.

Actually, it seems they released it for the N64 and the Gamecube... I should totally get it, as I have no idea what happened to my original copy.
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