Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)

Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.

Loading Mini-Grand Framework... Done.

Generating Administration Personality... Done.

Now what’s this then? Can’t see a damned where’s my monocle?

Generating Characters... Done.

Four beings suddenly found themselves nowhere, able to see one another but nothing else. A synthesized voice came out of the nothing surrounding them.

"Oh, good day, chaps! At least I think you’re chaps. Still can’t find my bloody monocle, you see. Has anyone - oh, there it was all along. Forget my own head next. *sounds of muttering and reaching for monocle behind nearby bin.* Excellent! But where are my manners? If you would allow me to introduce you all...?"

"Well, we’ve got [color="#FFFFFF"]...Nothing to see over here.
Moving right along."

"...right along to Cobra, our resident Fang layonin! Why call him ‘Cobra’ if he transforms into a wolf? No one is particularly sure on that point - although he might just transform into something else for a change!"

"Ah, and here we have Cadan! His primary offense is his razor-sharp tail and his powerful legs. He’s got a passionate fondness for routine! "

"So it is such a pity that when it comes to routine, Conte here isn’t precisely the most stable. She represents a Temporal Ontologic Glitch/Anomaly, which means that the only routine occurring is going to be her loose canon to play with."

"Finally, we’ve got a whole mess of chaps over here! This is an entire Grand Battle, the Tremendous Rumble! Remember them, because these fellows are going to be fighting each other to the death as well!"</font>

Generating Setting... Done.

The four generated characters suddenly found themselves moved, scattered in various locations on the inside of a rotating space station, a sphere two kilometers in diameter. At one pole was a huge window easily half a kilometer in radius, streaming with sunlight reflected from an even huger parabolic mirror attached outside. At the center of the sphere was the focus of the mirror, creating the illusion of a miniature sun. Stretching from the ‘sun’ to the other pole was a large axial tower, a shaft around which the sphere rotated.

Ah, that’s all done then. This is Bernal Sphere Upsilon, a space habitat designed for scientific research. Now normally, such a Bernal Sphere would be powered by solar energy, but you can’t have THAT for SCIENCE! If you’ll just look up at the sun - don’t worry chaps, it won’t hurt you until you begin - you’ll find yourself looking at the most powerful manmade hydrogen fusion reactor in the Solar System! It powers an equally superlative particle accelerator built around the equator, which...

...Well, I see I’ve near put you all to sleep, so how about I leave it at this? All of you - yes, all of you - are going to battle each other to the death, until only one of you remains! Well, pip pip! Get to it!

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.

The space station floated in nothing.

Her name was Bernal, and she was married to Athena, that great goddess of wisdom and knowledge. Exploration and discovery were committed in her bosom.

The nothing wrapped around her, Bernal, married to Athena. It hugged and pressed and smothered the great building, floating in the sky. The resilience of the woman was just enough to prevent her collapse under its nonexistent weight, and the greatness of the nothing was enough to prevent her from freeing herself from its bonds.

But then more nothing was added, and the cup overflowed.

In a deep, unsupervised storage area of the building, floating in the endless sky of nothing, a window began to crack.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Ixcalibur.

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Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Eximo Pulvis used its limited brainpower to analyze the situation. The room it was in was... well maintained. Not a speck of dust to be found in the room.

"Analysis complete. Status: Clean. Proceeding to next room."

The undead vacuum cleaner attempted to go through the metallic wall to the next room, but it proved a little bit too sturdy. Finding this course of action to be ineffective, it manipulated the handle on the metal door and went through the normal way. What it found was a couple of contestants from the battle within this battle, staring each other down. It looked likely to get ugly.

"Status: Clean. Further analysis dictates cleanliness is unlikely to be maintained for long. Making note of location to return later."

The two combatants stared at the vacuum momentarily as it passed between them and left through another door, before continuing their staredown.

This place was really very clean. Somebody was doing their job right. He stopped when he bumped into somebody. A resident of the facility, perhaps?

"Oh, what's this! A vacuum cleaner? Well I suppose I'll bring it back over to a supply closet."

"Do not interfere. Survey incomplete."

The man in the labcoat picked up the surprisingly heavy vacuum cleaner.
"Weird. It looks kinda strange, and I guess it's got a sound chip installed?"

"This is your final warning. Cease interference or be terminated."

"Did Greg do this? I always told my superiors that they've gotta give him more to-"


The bloody mess that used to be Reginald, if the nametag was accurate, was spread a couple of yards around the hallway.

"Status: Filthy. Blood, human tissue, stained clothing. Proceeding with cleansing."

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.

Cadan looked around in confusion, trying to figure out what had just happened. He had the strangest feeling of deja vu, as if this wasn't the first time something like this had happened to him; however, wait. But that wasn't possible; he'd have remembered if it had. There we go.
Oh goddamnit I didn't mean to hit that enter key. Guess I'll just be rolling with a new paragraph then.

Cadan jogged along the corridor, peering out the window into the blackness of space. Back on his homeworld, he recalled stargazing and misplaced participle or whatever the heck that is. Son of a monkey. He recalled stargazing back on his homeworld; he had enjoyed errrrrr he had memorized all the constellations, but from this point he could see none of them. The realization that he was actually in space, beyond the atmosphere, wait, stop. It suddenly hit him that he was really beyond anything he had ever known. He was totally outside his sphere of knowledge. As far as he knew, had known rather, actually let's go with knew after all, the sky was the floor for the gods; to go above it would be to meet them, and they frowned upon mortal contact (make that "had frowned") in all the myths and legends he had ever known. He shivered, peering cautiously around a corner, expecting to meet one of the immortal guards that served them at any second. To his surprise, and fffff a humanoid cloud of black smog roiled lazily from another turn further ahead, and began walking down the hall towards Cadan. He dived back...make that ducked back, and stood up straight as he could against the wall, hoping the being hadn't seen him. The god's immortal guards were known to take many shapes, and whatever this thing was, he had nothing else to believe about it.

[Image: zjQ0y.gif][Image: vcGGy.gif]
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

The Bernal Sphere was large, but then again their group were many. Raiders, thieves, children, races of incomprehensible shape and customs. There was magic and science, flying through the air, a secret blend of hot and dry, cold and wet.

It was yin and yang, not balanced, but empedoclean shapeshifting. There laid knowledge in his every step. The life he led was his, and he walked it with the flair of one who mastered it. It rooted in him. Rituals, tradition, progress, the world, the village, blocks and dust that both built lives.

His steps were his, but they belonged to something greater. Something golden. Honey that dripped steadily, with the flow of time and soul. They called it culture in days before space. Where stars were light, when the sun was god.

Caution in his moves. An intricate, neverending dance. Such fumed his being. With lines and roads and stories that took their time to become themselves again. Folklore wrapped his arms in circles, smoke drafted in the air, suffocating that which wasn't air.

Dances with the world, you are so intelligent.

Every clap, every jump, every way his sound died and refracted in the world he called his, it was prepared long ago. Treasure of the Pentecost. Divine rite of first contact. Then, he stood. Faceless and voiceless, tamed after a primitive high. A black bubble, his spring of youth.

He saw a young girl. The tiles danced around her, ticking clock that shaped her will. Azure sands, lakes that became seas. She carried an oasis in the back of her head. She had eyes in her heart alone. When those eyes met his face, the butterflies stood fast. Snakes that curled and rustled hid with Alicia. She giggled and hid.

And confusion slithered back at Miasme. He paid her no heed, this land was as young as she was. There was no need for plague.

It was then he spotted the strange creature peering at him.

Cadan was pretty sure that a god, if he was, or rather whether he was benevolent, was of no intention to have mercy on those who dared venture past the sky. Already his mind raced to come up with an excuse that probably didn't sound – that didn't sound coherent as much as it sounded apologetic. He'd feel compose (I have no idea) act lowly around the god of smoke, which he assumed to mean night, but just in case he wasn't lowly enough yet, he took a breather moment to gather his thoughts, or rather pick himself up again. Preferably behind a wall.

His tail however, thistle leaf denoting his presence.

To Miasme the Tremendous Rumble was a xenotokos. Carrier of cultures unlike his own. He drew wrong conclusions, lines in the sand, an approach that lasted no longer than the fickle wind could blow it. Multicultural tumbleweed.

Since that's apparently how they greet people here, Miasme responded to the classy lady in white down the corridor by hiding behind a wall.

quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.




for its home.

Ripped from its hands,

it lashed out in rage.


The cup is overflowing, and time is ticking, for the despair of nothing is emptiness in totality.


He was a man of nothing,


The single janitor in a research station-

work was endless and tiring




He walked through one of the lower decks. He heard hiss, a mournful snake.

He did not check the noise, and his heart emptied.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

This universe is not my own. This universe does not know me.

The awareness registered moreso as an afterthought than a cognitive thought, quickly pushed aside by the more urgent matter of survival. Conte had been transported onto the upper levels of the Bernal Sphere, right in the middle of the rapids of a river and before she had time to react the current had swept her off her feet and down the artifical rivulet. The current tossed her one way and the other as it passed her like a soccer ball through the bends of the river. Disoriented, her mind went into sensory overload as her instincts tried to focus on the urgent matter of getting herself out of the flow of water.

"Help! HE-eee..."

Conte's head disappeared under the surface of the water. Panicked, she tried to breathe in and swallowed a mouthful of chilled water. Acrid and chloronated, this river had not come from a natural source. She choked on the water, but without any air to intake she just took in another mouthful of water. Acting on a reflex, her throat contracted as it tried to remove the foreign matter from her stomach. Survival instincts finally kicking into gear, her limbs propelled her forward in a direction she hoped was up.

Surfacing with an almighty gasp,tears running down her face indistinguishable from the water, her arms flailed as they attempted to keep her head out of the water. Breathing heavily, she had little breath remaining to make any noise , yet scream she did as she turned the last bend of the river and saw it peal away over the edge of a cliff.

"No! No, no, no, NO!" she yelled, eyes focused on the peril she was rushing towards.

Dragging her eyes away from the approaching precipice, Conte saw a wizened oak tree leaning over the edge of the river bank. With seconds left to act, she attempted to paddle to the edge of the river. Two seconds later her arms clasped around a stray tree root. With danger only meters away, she clung to her salvation as tightly as she could muster. Face half submerged in the water, she shut her eyes and attempted to focus on her self-rescue as best as she could. Slowly, tentatively, she extended an arm towards the bank, making sure the other arm kept a firm grip on the tree root. The arm blindly searched through the flowing water until it connected with a solid object. Using the last of her strength, she pulled herself towards what appeared to be a knot in the tree. Torso now out of the water, she could freely use her legs to push herself up onto the bank and into fickle safety's arms.

Crawling on all fours, Conte coughed up the last of the water in her lungs, brown hair plastered to her face like seaweed. Once on a flat space of grass, she turned over onto her back to rest. Expecting to see sky, her eyes lit up when she saw the world she'd landed in. Chest still rising and falling rapidly, she voiced the first thought that came to her volatile mind.

"Oooh. I want it."

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

Unrelenting stalkers. The world slid over them as unsuspecting as their prey. Above them life was gold. Death was gold, they were gold. Halo of fire and death in the sunbaked sand.

But there was no sand here. No gold, only grey.

Like a fish uprooted from the sea, Harena was from the ground. The disk laid twitching, swathes of sand flying around the room it had been stranded in. Image had no need, and Harena had no mind to think it. Still, aware of threat and those that exposed it, the blue warrior dared not disappear.

When in the room, a scorpion entered. Harena turned, with it towers and gates. Come, scorpion. Invitation to the netherworld. Image waved a taunt.

The scorpion ran, up for the challenge. Bloodthirst dripped from his face and evaporated into not the lishtest bit of remorse. This scorpion was daring, but yet foolish. It drew weapons, expecting a fair fight.

Two hunters stood across, both a reputation of invisibility. One would leave with knowledge of the other.

As the field around them drowned in dunes, the warriors greeted, snarled. If they listened closely, they would hear
Nothing between the two.

It came from the window, and flew around, but
The scorpion set foot on the arena like aether rode over the sky at night and made silence. Beasts, hounds, vile creatures that best both died. War was never beautiful. Flowers of blood drew no art. They shone brilliantly, love and lust and sex, but they weren't beautiful.

Locks like swords, conflict that ate hearts and left a trail of victims vain in love.

The flowers on the field faded, turmoil of crashing waves threw them away. It didn't steal his heart, but forever the Scorpion left its skin there. As it dripped, it marked his leave. His solemn leave that begged to savor revenge.

nobody paid any attention to it

On that day, nothing died.

Distance spoke time. It told hours of travel, exile, how they took from the world and were taken from it in return. Loran Twight, in canaän. Oh, the western wind called their name to where the sun set.

You are broken, Scorpion. Don't ever return as you are to reclaim glory.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

In an effort to take in the machination she had been placed in, Conte tilted her head back as far as she could, eyes darting from side to side in an attempt to see everything at once, desperate for sensory overload. When her head had been tilted back as far it could go, she began to arch her back from her lying position to propel her gaze further. Once her body had reached the limits of her extension, she rolled herself onto her front, head propped up in her hands. She was in awe of this seemingly impossible structure, built possibly by a god with a penchant for science fiction.

The Bernal Sphere was covered with lush vegetation, neatly groomed paths and monumental sculptures. It seemed to have been designed by a hundred landscapers, each making peace with his neighbor so that each area flowed seamlessly into the next. It gave the appearance of wandering through the middle of a spherical park, inverted so that a visitor had the pleasure of viewing every inch of the park at the same time. Conte felt as though she was in the middle of a mutated snow dome.

The land was separated into small regions by what appeared to be giant cracks in the land, with the appearance similar to that of parched dirt in an arid desert that had lost its moisture and cracked into a thousand segments. On closer inspection, the cracks in the land appeared to be artificial. They were too straight, too evenly formed, with bridges running across them as if it was planned that way. Conte peered over the side of her cliff, and found it to answer her unvoiced question. She watched the water trail over the side of the cliff, through a net that was designed to catch anything (or anybody) that was unlucky enough to fall into the river, down past what appeared to be a four-story building and into a canal, stretching the length of the man-made fissure and splitting into a fork to flow in multiple directions. Conte turned her attention towards the cliff face that appeared to contain not dirt, rocks and the occasional plant, as she had expected, but windows and balconies, fully equipped with window boxes, deck chairs and other items of a domestic pursuit. The windows were four stories high, and appeared to line the entire cliff face and all other cliff faces on the inside of the behemoth cracks in the landscape of this superstructure. But it was the floor of the canal that enticed her the most. Instead of stone, steel or any other opaque material, the designed had opted for what must have been extreme-strength perspex. Through the blurred filter of the water, she could see stars and empty space. The canal was created to be a visual portal to the outside world.

Suddenly it hit Conte. This place was designed to be used for habitation in outer space. The lower levels of the building were designed to be the habitation and work quarters for those lucky enough to live in such a beautifully unusual environment and the roof of the buildings had been transformed into the outdoor area so that nobody ever felt that they were trapped in a series of corridors and rooms.

In an effort to explore more of this amazing location, Conte unfolded her Hover Buggy and accelerated towards the nearest bridge.


In a secure part of the Particle Accelerator facility, two men sat at a sophisticated piece of equipment, anticipating the events to come. They briefly exchange looks of excitement. The taller one decided some words would be appropriate for this moment.

“Well Jim, this is it. 13 years research, multiple grants, significant setbacks and even a house fire. But we’ve done it. This is the moment we’ve been dreaming about. Thanks for sticking with me on this. I couldn’t have had a better friend and colleague to go through this with. Now fire her up.”

Jim gave a small smile and flicked a couple of switches.

“Same to you Paul. All systems online and ready to proceed in five, four, three, two, one.”

Jim pressed a button on the control panel. In the depths of the Bernal Sphere, the Particle Accelerator began to hum with hungry expectation.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.

Crepitans Bloodbark scoffed at the employee he had so easily crushed. The nature of this place was a mystery to him, but it didn't matter. What was important was getting the hell out of here and back to his important business. The treant smashed through the walls, leading outside the metal rooms to a lush green field. There were dry cracks all around and everything felt incredibly unnatural. Something else felt strange, too.
It was probably nothing.
Now of course, there was one obvious solution to getting back to where he belonged. If it was a battle to the death, he just had to be the last one standing. It would be rather tiresome to go individually hunt each one down, so the easiest thing to do would be to simply destroy everything. A quick look around had Crepitans discover a large metallic battery looking object with lots of moving parts and making lots of strange noises. It seemed important. Breaking it would surely kill somebody somehow.

Nothing stood in his way.

Nothing completely surrounded him, depriving him of his senses.

This had no consequences.

That was odd. The ent was sure something... but no. It was Nothing. He swung a huge thorny branch at the device, easily smashing it up. It sparked and ceased movement. Nothing easier.


Jim's smile faded instantly. Main Generator 5 had gone down for some reason. If it were Main Generator 3, this wouldn't have been a problem, but 5 lacked an auxillory generator. Before Jim could even say anything, Paul was already on his way out.


"I know. I'll be back in no time. I won't let this fail."

"No, Paul, I lo-"

Paul smiled, "I know," and was on his way to solve this problem.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.

Just as Cadan was about to leap out from behind the wall and greet Miasme, he felt a small, furry creature rubbing up against his legs. Looking down, he saw Domino, although of course he didn't know her by name. Unfortunately for Domino, who looked up a moment later, Cadan chose to continue forward with his plan instead of investigate the creature at his feet. He walked out into the hallway and, to his surprise, found nothing there - why did I put a hyphen there? He walked out into the hallway, and, to his surprise, found nothing there, Miasme having hidden behind a wall from Dena, who Cadan found himself staring at instead. He paused, then NOPE. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, until Cadan reached out one of his hands, stepping forward as he did so. "My name is Cadan," he said. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

The girl took his hand in hers and shook it. "I'm Dena," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Cadan." She smiled warmly, and Cadan felt his troubles vanish. Domino made retching noises, causing both of the contestants to look down curiously. Dena was unlucky enough to be the one to catch Domino's eyes, and in a few moments she began to teeter on her feet sleepily. Cadan quickly stretched his arms out just in time to catch Dena as she fell. He started running away from the cat, which gave chase, towards the strange cloud god guard he'd seen, or at least in the direction he had seen him in. He had no idea what had just happened, but for some reason the idea had popped into his head to get help, and he had run with it without even bothering to think it through.
[Image: zjQ0y.gif][Image: vcGGy.gif]
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.


oh okay let's make this a reserve then.
quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by cyber95.


“Shit. Shit shit shit shit that was a bad idea.”
A loud klaxon was sounding in the area. Honestly, it didn’t LOOK that important. Well okay maybe it looked kind of important but not full-scale emergency alert important.
“Primary generator 5 offline. All non-vital personnel report to escape pods immediately. This is not a test. Once again, primary generator...
It just kept repeating that. Okay. So. Priority: Reach escape pods. Gotta get out of here alive. And, well, that was the point of this whole thing anyways, right? Trickster could feel guilty after he made sure he wasn’t going to die. He wasn’t about to waste time looking for people to save. If he saw somebody on the way, maybe he could urge them along or something. For now, he had to look out for numero one. Uno. Whatever. Wasting time thinking abou-
“Hey, you! What the hell did you do?”
“I, uh...”
Trickster took another good look at the generator. Yeah it was pretty nicely on fire. He wasn’t quite certain how he managed to make it scrap with just his fire, but that wasn’t important. What was important was this guy that looked like he worked here, and he looked understandably upset. The guy was probably ‘vital personnel’ and doomed to go down with the, er, ship? Planet? Sun-powered fusion reactor?
“Look, buddy. It was an, er, accident!”
“Accident!? How is that an accident!?”
“Well I didn’t mean to do... that. Actually I don’t quite know how I did that. Anyways, my point is whoa whoa whoa hold on put away the gun I’m sure we can work this out.”
Trickster didn’t quite expect the... scientist? Yeah. He didn’t expect the scientist to be packing heat. Tears were rolling down the man’s face. Trickster was warming up a fireball just in case. He didn’t want this to get ugly, dude’s just doing his job, really, but he had a bit of a bad feeling about all of this.”
“You’ve just doomed over a dozen years worth of research. Hundreds... or maybe thousands of lives! What possible reason could you have had for destroying that generator? Who made you do it? Why did you do it!?”


Jim had finally managed to find the security camera controls. There was one if these in pretty much every lab, but of course, nobody every put them anywhere that was easy to access. It was set up, and was taking a bit to find the camera near Generator 5. Big place, lots of cameras. With any luck at all, the camera wouldn’t have been destroyed. Ahah! He had it now.
There was Paul, and a mysterious man in a hat opposite him. And the generator right behind! Oh shit. That thing was unsalvageable. He had to get out of here. No ‘vital personnel’ would be able to fix this mess.
Wait a minute... why did Paul have his gun out? He had it ready to-
Paul fired the gun. Just a moment later, the man in the hat pointed his hand out, engulfing Jim’s partner in flames.


“Fffffuck that hurts. I hate bullets. So much.”
Trickster grasped his arm where he had been shot. Yeah, okay, he was probably running low on time now. Ignoring the charred body near him, and trying to focus as little as possible on the incredible pain in his bicep, he ran as quickly as he could muster in any direction that looked like it might lead to an escape.

He almost ran past it, really. He had to jump back a bit when he realized there was a sign next to a door. It had a picture of an orb-looking thing blasting off from a planet. To confirm his suspicions, opening the door showed the word EXIT in bright red letters hanging from the ceiling of the hallway. Not much further now and why were there bodies littered around the escape pod doors.
Yes, dozens of corpses decorated the room that should have represented freedom. Some of the escape pods had clearly blasted off, so at least some people managed to get out, but what the hell happened here? He was answered by the clanking of metal on metal behind him. Some kind of quadripedal robot was standing there.

All of these people were in Clausewitz's way.
At the moment, Trickster seemed to be a pretty clear enemy.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.

An author sat hunched over his keyboard, intent on the screen in front of him. He rubbed his eyes; he'd been at this nearly all night and he couldn't figure out what to do next. He squinted for a few seconds at the screen, then shrugged. It was just a rough draft; if it wasn't working, he should probably just start over. He selected all the text on the screen, his finger hovering over the backspace key.


Cadan quickly reached Miasma, who had elected to hide behind a wall in greeting. Cadan fumbled with Dena for a moment, the idea of tapping Miasma on the shoulder popping into his head, making him intent on that until he realized he wasn't sure if Miasma even had shoulders. He settled for calling out to it, calling it um let's just start a new paragraph here.

He settled for calling out to it. "Hey, cloud...guard thing!"

It paused. "Are you...referring to me?"

Cadan rolled his eyes. "No, I'm referring to the other cloud guardian. Yes, I'm talking to you!" He idly wondered why he had assumed it would be quick on its feet.

"I am not guardian. Whatever that is. Or perhaps I am?" it mused. "Since I don't know what it is, I could very well be one and not realize it."

Cadan glanced behind him, an inexplicable feeling of dread coming over him as he saw Domino strolling towards him. "Whatever you are, I need help. That thing is...umm...well, I'm pretty sure it's dangerous. I need to help Dena but I don't know how. You seem out of place enough to maybe know what to do about it."


The author pulled his finger back after a few moments of contemplation. It was a rough draft, after all, and you don't delete your rough drafts; you saved them for later in case you wanted to go back and look at an idea you'd had but that hadn't really panned out. He moved his mouse over to the File menu, then selected Save As, and began to think of an appropriate filename.

Then, a computer virus his PC had contracted through an email he'd been foolish enough to open decided to activate itself, and his computer crashed, the letters "ROUGH DRAFT TERMINATED" appearing on his screen.


Before Miasma could answer, Cadan made a choking noise, dropping Dena and following her descent to the floor, where he proceeded to vomit blood, clutching his chest. His feet began to disappear, and the vanishing followed up his legs until his head was gone, leaving only bloody vomit on the floor to show he'd ever existed.
[Image: zjQ0y.gif][Image: vcGGy.gif]
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

Photographer really had no idea what was going on.

Like, really.

Knife was kind of panicking around, telling poor Photographer that he was getting aimed at by a dang gun, and that he should run away or defend himself. He also called him useless which was... pretty mean, actually. Camera, on the other hand, said that they could probably talk this out together. He has always been good at talking to things, he said, there's no need to worry.

He was going to try Camera's way first. Photographer tried to talk to Machine Gun. “H-Hi. I'm a photographer.”

“...I-I take pictures.”

Machine Gun sighed.

Photographer has always been a bit iffy about robots, since they sort of contaminated inanimate things with animate things, and if there's anything Photographer liked less than losing his camera it would be grey areas. Unless they were in pictures. Monochrome pictures were pretty. It's just that he never really quite got robots down, and seeing as one just outright ignored him and walked out the room, he assumed he never really will. Did he say something wrong?


Bernal had means to destruction. Normally Clausewitz searched for an ample vantage point to eradicate opposition, but the confusing layout made him reconsider that approach, and the information he had received from The Minister made him aware of machines that sustained life in Bernal.

Delete the machines, delete the entire population.

The photographer before him was much less of a threat, and as such was quickly discarded as no more than a stammering chair. Clausewitz hurried – even though he had ample time to spare – towards the control room.


Carnegie was in heaven. Around him, science and magic. The Red Dragon, The Green Dragon. An elixir that kept his spirit strong. He was the bird of Hermes, clipped from his human form to live moments surrounded by what he deared.

Luna in Crescent, he was in space.

Everything around him told science. White concrete walls that smelled of sulfur and ammonium, a metal device, he could tell, that was an experiment. He was taking part in an experiment, he was so glad. The little pictures around him drifted like lovers in open air, they were all so happy to be part of this day this is what we worked for all these years today's finally the day. Let's begin, then.


“Lieutenant Conte, I'm glad to see you! As you know, we need a military officer to conduct any experiment. As you might have heard, we have a testing room set up to simulate a miniature sun in a separate pocket dimension in order to visualise the change of mass in... Well, it's complicated. We just need your say-so to start the experiment.”

“Ooh, experiments! Love 'em. Can I push the button?”

“Well, I don't see why n-”

Greg's sentence was cut off as Conte already leaped towards the center of the room, fingers tingling over the control panel. “So what do I press?”

“The, um, blue one. The one that says “C.”

There was no uncharacteristic beep, so Conte made one.


It took about seventeen shots to make all humans in Bernal's security give up or die. Clausewitz reloaded his gun in advance, even though only such few bullets were missing. The sound of his barrel refilling was like an engine that stopped, a humming that never got noticed that suddenly let loose steam and sighed in relief. And then it started again.

The protest of those survivors he spared fell blank as he rammed a metal limb into the control panel. Bernal lost light, lost sight, lost mind. As it spoke, yelled Athena's name and begged her, cripple on the floor, blind and mute except for sirens' wails, begged her to stay.

Except from one room, as someone just didn't want it to.


The cannon geared up with the scraping noise of alchemy, one that he heard before dying and resurrecting and dying like strings that all fell apart but still lived and it was ugly like the night when it bared reluctance and its vile secrecy that swore against him.


He was a man of science staring at the sun and going blind. It was the path he chose and the path that led lower until it drowned him. Until the waves of a sun that grew bigger and bigger beyond salvage drowned him and melted him and he knew that we all melt someday.

Carnegie was dead.

quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.

Well, that certainly was interesting, wot wot. I’m afraid I have some terrible news: It is entirely possible that I may have...misplaced...the round I’d originally intended for you chaps. But! But-but but, I’ve had a look through some of the Paradox Shards - you know the ones, leftover bits from abandoned timelines - and I’ve found the perfect round for you!

There was a moment of lack, of black, of nothing, then the contestants found themselves underneath a clearly artificial sky, projected on the inside of a gigantic dome. It was clearly artificial because many of the holographic panels were not transmitting the overcast day they were obviously meant to, but were rather simply displaying static. In front of them was a strip of desert, nearly half a kilometer wide, stretching from one side of the dome to another. On either edge of the desert a forest abruptly bloomed, creating a biosphere which was efficient, yet almost painfully unnatural. Here and there rivers were seen to cross the desert strip, somehow failing to nourish the dead ground it flowed over yet easily fueling the living.

Welcome to Game Planet Dome...oh bugger, I had it written down somewhere...#421! #000000000421, to be properly exact, but there’s no sense in being overly nitpicky now, is there? The whole bloody planet’s covered in these domes, you know. It started off being a penal colony, then don’t you know, there’s an insane and powerful being that takes over..and then he died and the whole timeline went to absolute buggerall. He spent his whole rule turning the prison domes into sick manhunting "games"...

For the first time, the contestants realized that time had stopped, and they were watching a frozen firefight. They felt their attention drawn to the bullets hanging through the air, then to the prison-garb-clad shooters.

Poor blighters. They’re all forced to kill one of their number every 365 days. They’ve got little brain monitors that check their killcount, and passes out the pain if they don’t match up.

Most of the ‘poor blighters’ wore insane looks of glee, various contestants noted.

All bloody right, perhaps some of them have gotten a little unhinged. What did you expect, this was a prison after all. What you see here is more or less the default state of affairs. I suppose...I’ve blathered on enough. All right! You know the drill - one of you dies, and then we move on! Get to it! Pip pip!

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 1: Bernal Sphere Upsilon)
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.

Locked in a prison
A prison of games
Is a thing that permeates our minds
The spaces between our thoughts
Can you hear him? It’s
Calling your name, like the dust of
Tearing into your
Bones, your
Life, your
the bullets stopped
and quiet nothing settles over them,
they raise their guns,
cry for annihilation,
and become a revolution of destruction
rolling over lands
a mob of nothing
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

As Bernal died, The Minister checked his book of law. “Do you know how much we invested in this?” shattered. Another adage dead.

“It seems you hardly take this offer seriously, my flock. Death by coincidence? Seriously?”

The Minister hung like a death sentence over a black void. If the seven remaining moved their lips, they would taste it. The Black Plague, a parasite on other battles, a stench that extended to the rounds and the characters.

“The next setting is a biodome. Currently it's being used for a game of prisoners, vying for the biggest killcount. It is up to all of you whether you make a name on the leaderboard or end up one more for the score. Good luck.”

A knife hid in the forest, unspeakably green. It walked the silent road, the road of creeping and haunting, dying in silence. He would have to wait, but he was patient. It kept him alive. He heard noises. Mostly guns, rattling and thundering through several worlds at once. He also picked up sounds of twigs cracking. The sound of prey nearby.

Like a stalker.

Stimmt crept closer, no sound, up to the back of the man, no sound. Blood hung on him like a second skin, a grin stiff over his face. He was recharging a bazooka. Artillery he earned and cherished. Stimmt stole his voice, but the man never spoke so he didn't notice. As the knife cut through his throat, the man felt fascinated by having blood flow out of him. He had blood? No, he was a winner, he couldn't have blood. Blood was a gift from the weak to the strong he wasn't weak he had blood all over him. The man dropped dead at Stimmt's feet.

Like a murderer.

*** Contestant-11237-Stimmt has overthrown the third of the top ten in combat. The difference in ran--***

Stimmt cut off the automated voice, and stored it in his pocket for further use. He bent over the fresh corpse, looting it for supplies, food, water, weaponry, camouflage. He equipped himself with what he could salvage from the dead body.

Like a poacher.


The poacher saw an animal. Oblivious to the hunt, it stood and watched the bullets fly. Water dripped off its snout as it shook back and forth to absorb the surroundings fully.


Stimmt couldn't approach Alluvion unnoticed, but the spirit, though aware of him, was unaware of his intent. He was magical, unhinged to the world. Unfazed, he licked Stimmt's face.


Stimmt quickly shut Alluvion up. A mindless gunner had already caught the noise.

he didn't care

nothing was on his mind

nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing

it droned

like a rhythm


it was probably nothing

quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Originally posted on MSPA by Niall.

Conte took a deep breath, then plunged her head, face first, into the muddy banks of the river she had decided was called "Conte Creek". Conte clawed the banks of the river for thick mud and when she had grabbed two handfuls of dirt she slopped them onto her neon blue hair and massaged it into her scalp. Her hunter's instincts, which she decided she had only an hour ago, told her that she needed to blend into her environment in order to avoid be detected by the gun-toting crazies, and a flash of bright blue moving between the trees might be enough to give her away.

Conte had no so much changed her personality as added onto it. Every decision to give herself more personality traits that she made increased and amplified her emotions, thoughts and her desires. She was the gardener to her own mind, and it had grown rather overgrown within the last hour. Were she aware of the potential mental anarchy she was creating she may have done some pruning. While she'd given herself certain desirable qualities, she'd neglected to remove the childish personality that overrid many of her decisions. And why would she? Part of being a child is not wanting to grow up.

Wiping the mud from her eyes, she turned back to her rucksack. It contained her camping supplies, rations and her hunting rifle. She had been treking through the forest with it for the past half an hour, never meeting anyone, never seeing anyone, but occasionally hearing spurts of gunfire in the far distance. Wherever the fighting was taking place, she had seemed lucky enough to have stayed out of it so far.

As Conte reached down to pick up her rucksack, a shadowy shape darted out of the trees, under her outstretched hand and into her rucksack. Startled, Conte took a step back, then cautiously circled her rucksack until she could see into it. Looking back at her from the depths of her pack were two large, piercing, yellow eyes.


Conte reached out a hand in a sign of peace. Two black ears, followed by a head emerged from the sack, then a body and finally a tail curled out behind it. Conte gasped in delight.


An observer more keen than Conte would have noticed that this feline did not actually mew as a normal cat would have, but specifically spoke the word "Meow". Rather sardonically too, at that.

"You're a kitty!"

Conte's inner child screamed with delight, and considering how that inner child took up most of her brain's processing power, so did she.

In the distance, the sound of footsteps could be heard, and the appeared to be getting louder.

Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Originally posted on MSPA by Wojjan.

The lady tiptoes. Feline grace, as they say. Dances around her friends and foes like chess or like war. Brushing against her leg as if coiling around and dragging her under, drowning. She isn't evil, evil just trails her. It happens. Everything happens and this little lady makes it happen. But now she nods, now she dozes, now she falls asleep. What will happen now? Nothing? Everything? The lady decides to read it.

What is in your dreams little lady?

For the first time, the lady's eyes are open wide. When she turns her head, she still sees the same scene. Scraps and scribbles, a torrent of ideas all around her. It flows as richly as wine, but it's wrong, because she's not here to taste it. It is past bedtime for the little lady and she can't savor it and decide it anymore. Everything turns into colors and wires and things and the lady doesn't even notice she's outside again because everything just keeps happening, even outside. Like a gushing eternal stream. The lady knows she drags things along but not this often, not this many.

The little lady stands up, unconscious, pulled straight like a marionette. Her eyes are wide, her mouth is agape, she changes colors like a circus inside her. Her hand isn't a hand, but she scoops the ideas up with it anyways. She shapes that which has no shape. Her eyes are black and stare past the sky, and sometimes red and stare past hell.

A river begins to flow.

It flies.

It breaks.

It's imagination.

And it felt attracted to a young girl nearby.


Dena was scared, and hated it. What was going on? Where was she this time? Why did everyone carry guns? Why did they look at her as if they were animals, as if she was an animal?

She grabbed her necklace and bowed down to pray. Her lips moved, but she made no sound. She muttered mantras, rubies and sapphires and rubies again, she trailed her wristband, a different psalm for every gem. It didn't spawn divination, no Holy Ghost that led her way. It just calmed her down, placebo amongst pacifiers. What religion does. The guns of her assailants disintegrated, the machines that kept them so comatose vanished as well.

The men thanked Dena for what she did, even though she wasn't certain what they meant by that. Still, her words of prayer touched another's soul, and for that she lived. They told what they had experienced, an evil overseer that forced them into battle, treating life and death like heads and tails. Dena was not a priestess, but she measured the moment more pressing than any title one could earn. With holy words she absolved their sins, judging their regret and lack of free action worth the reverence. And as she spoke to her god, she grew calmer still. Her aura widened, like a dome of its own, and more men traded their guns for their will, and sought solace in Dena's sermon. Before long, a following of retired warriors gathered around her, calling her a wonder. A miracle. In her life, she had never been happier.

A young girl tugged at her clothes. Her eyes were tired and bloodshot, but also undulating in colors. Her face, her hands, her nails, her undeceiving smile, all draped in kaleidoscopic bile. Her steps as she followed Dena backing away, she tumbled instead of walking. Only when she fell forward her reflexes begged her to move her feet. She walked as if she was lost in desert, parched and weary and sore and dying.

As her spirit left her, imagination traced her body like a will-o'-wisp. Chance in the vulture's eye.

With Dena's touch, Alicia already recovered, but like an undead. Conte's raw power now laid unguarded in a child's mind.

quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur.
Re: Mini-Grand 5105 (Round 2: Game Planet Dome #421)
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.

Tongue of nothing:
You are like ETERNITY beating in the drums of the mind.
So attracted to that Conte Content.
(you eat your heart out like the wretched god you are)
She sees you
She hears you
She feels you
She tastes you

And for once in her life, she is afraid.
Afraid of nothing.
Why are you afraid of nothing, little girl?
There are no monsters under your bed,
Or boogeyman in your closet,
But Maybe those would make you less afraid,
There's no terrorism or crime,
No arguments or discord,
But Maybe that would make you less afraid.
There is only nothing
Your body writhes as the tongue of Nothing,
Eats out your terror,
The nothings locked in your head.
And why hello marionette,
Unbalanced and just as attracted.
To that little pleasure of Nothing
But to a different girl,
one of faith?

Nothing hears no faith
It is an empty echo
After death is nothing
It's descended into nothing.

So hello, marionette girl,
Unbalanced and just as attracted,
"May we have a talk?"

" I follow "

" destroy? "

" perhaps "

" assistance? "

" confirmation "

" oh girl so full of faith? "

" correct destroy her "

" confirmation "

Wind of nothing left to find
oh girl so full of faith,
and taste her destruction
Preaching so well,
Like Jesus

Muhammad or Gandhi or Buddha or Confucius,

Changing minds and changing hearts
like THAT

what an affront to nothing




There must be one who feels Nothing-ness




it will comb your heart

like prying eyes, snapping crisp night

There you are.
With your nothing eyes and nothing hair
there's nothing in your gun
remove the nothing from your gun
place another kind of nothing within it
you'll be happy the pain will go
(no it won't but you'll do it anyway
just in case it's lying about lying)
you load the gun

Bang bang.

Dena Dena lead inside,
Your eyes are wide with Nothing
surprise and bleeding
not dead, but maybe soon.