TT: Sorry.
TT: No nuance to these controls at all.
TT: I was hoping to bludgeon the imp without letting go of it. Guess I can't really do that.
TT: A broken piano isn't the end of the world though.
EB: i guess you're right.
TT: You'll need to pick up the spoils in person. I can't interact with the grist.
EB: so...
EB: that means i have to go out the back door?
TT: Yes. Is there a problem?
EB: well it may sound dumb, but i was hoping to avoid nanna and her spooky ghost cookies.
TT: You're right, that does sound dumb.
EB: can you see her in the kitchen?
TT: Yeah.
EB: what's she doing, is she baking?
TT: You could say that.
EB: are you SURE you can't get that grist up to me somehow?
TT: Maybe.
Rose attempted to use the pogo ride to spring the grist up to John's window, but it didn't look like the stuff was going anywhere. It was just never certain with these gaming abstractions.
However, she was able to pull the ride out of the ground and drop it in John's bathtub. John turned around and collected the grist, putting more in the cache.
TT: There you go.
TT: Now why don't you check out the Designix?
TT: You can do that while I get to work.
EB: on what?
Before Rose answered, she wondered if the piano might level up for slaying the imp. Alas, in its valiant effort it had unfortunately been slain as well. But if it hadn't, it would have raked in so many boondollars, you have no idea. So many! In any case, he explained her project to John.
TT: Nanna said to build, so that's what I'm doing.
EB: oh yeah. ok.
TT: But this sure is going to take a lot of grist.
TT: Looks like you're going to be busy, John.
EB: blargh!
EB: well, what are you building?
TT: Stairs.
TT: They are fairly expensive actually.
EB: oh man...
EB: i could have warned you about stairs, rose!
Rose had expended 18 units of build grist by placing a flight of steps from the platform extending from the balcony up to the roof.
TT: I'll try recouping some of the grist from the catwalk I built earlier.
EB: IT KEEPS HAPENING
She deleted part of the catwalk, giving her six more units of build grist. An imp that had been standing on the end of it fell into the (presumably) bottomless pit under John's house.
TT: Ah, good. Looks like I can get a refund for earlier allocations.
EB: i told you rose
EB: i TOLD you about stairs!
TT: Ok.
TT: Consider me fully briefed on the matter of stairs.
TT: Now if you don't mind, it's hard enough to concentrate on this without immersing ourselves in Strider's non sequitur.
EB: did you know he thinks puppets are cool?
TT: Does he?
EB: he's so dumb!
Rose began to build an observation tower on John's roof. Well, okay, she obviously didn't have enough grist yet for something that ambitious, but she could get started with something of a foundation for upward construction, at least.
In the meantime, John checked the bathroom cupboard for imps and other useful items. Naw. There were no imps in here. Just a lot of shaving cream. Dads loved shaving. It was basically all they did (when they weren't baking, of course).
John captchalogued two cans of shaving cream just in case. He never knew when he'd need to bust out a hilarious shaving cream santa beard to ratchet up his prankster's gambit. In the process, his telescope flew out the window and landed where the pogo ride had been previously.
Speaking of the pogo ride, why not ride it? Well, it was a little cramped in the bathroom for any sort of proper reckless pogoing. He'd just grab it and hang on to it until the right opportunity presented itself. In captchaloguing the pogo ride, the towel floated out of his sylladex and onto the towel rack, completing the circle of stupidity.
Rose decided to check on Nannaquin and see what was cooking. Gosh darnit that was a lot of cookies. There must have been at least a hundred of them in the kitchen. An imp's hand reached out for one of them…
John left his room to make his way to the study where the Punch Designix dwelled. Oh god. In the hallway stood a couple of imps brandishing a bust of a harlequin. And… it got worse. John's face contorted in rage as he saw the mess the imps had made of the living room. It seemed as though they'd taken a shining to the Cruxtruder because there was cruxite and black goo. Everywhere.
John mounted his pogo ride, held a can of shaving cream in one hand and his hammer in the other, and proceeded to one-up the imp. He smashed through the two nearest him and then two on the stairs. This was incredibly dangerous! He flipped the fuck out entirely at that point and jumped around the living room, smashing imps left and right!
"Let's see how you like the old doublebarrel leatherblaster… Woah! Oh shit!" John yelled. He slipped on a cruxite dowel on the floor and fell over next the doors to the study and kitchen.
mister john, respectfully ask that you please stand up. John quickly got to his feet, grabbed the pogo in one hand, and pointed a can of shaving cream at it with the other.
"Don't move or the pogo gets it!" He yelled. The imps looked frightened.
now sir boy, flee from this boorish rabble post haste. John ran up the wall slowly, did a flip in midair, and jumped into the study, knocking a jester hat from one of the imps. The imp quickly picked up the hat, but Rose dropped the fridge from the kitchen on it, smashing it entirely, hat and all.
The refrigerator skyrocketed up the echeladder to a new rung: Fivestar General Electric, and earned 285 boondollars. Things were really looking up for this feisty appliance.
well done, john. polite congratulations. For some reason, John felt a sense of positive reinforcement. Wherever that feeling was coming from, it was sure was a welcome change from his erratic moods earlier.
now my civil fellow, i have a well mannered query to ask
TT: I blocked the entrance to the study to give you some space to work with the Designix.
TT: John, imps behind you.
TT: Should I take care of it?
TT: You trapped your PDA again, didn't you.
TT: Why did you have to pick up all that stupid shaving cream?
TT: So pointless.
Rose picked up a safe and dropped it through the roof. It fell through and hit the imp, busting the contraption open. Out came a very old-looking copy of Colonel Sassacre and what looked like old newspaper clippings. They mingled with the grist and black goo from the imp, making for a rather large mess. A harlequin statuette that had been sitting on top of it fell off and smashed on the floor.
john might i bother you for a can opener? Oblivious to the commotion behind him, John found himself pondering the whereabouts of a can opener. There was probably one in the kitchen, but his path was blocked by his refrigerator.
Rose looked at John on her screen. He was completely unresponsive. What the hell was the nincompoop doing? And what was that arm coming out of the blue portal doing?
Years in the future… but let's not get carried away here… WV's studious eye darted about a page like a honeybee gathering the nectar of wisdom.
A typical human is polite, saying "Thank you," "Please," "You are welcome," "Good day," "How do you do?" and "Splendid, and you? Everyday conversations like this lead to gratification and release of endorphins in the brain. This leads to further courtesy. The favor is mutually curried and...
Om nom nom… WV ripped the page out and ate it with his sharp teeth. There was the next page.
When drinking the human elixir known as "tea," one must simply cantilever the absurd vestigial fourth digit, and everyone will remain polite...
Om nom nom… WV ripped out that page as well.
In the meantime, Rose placed four chimneys around John's roof and built a platform on top. The issue was now how to climb up. Stairs were expensive, so Rose grabbed part of the balcony railing, turned it around, and extended it upwards in a makeshift ladder.
TT: Ladders seem to be a bit cheaper than stairs.
fellow john, it appears we have reached an impasseYes, it would seem so. John continued to ponder the whereabouts of a possible can opener even as an imp snuck up behind him. Rose dropped a bookshelf on it.
the opener dilemma remains unsettled, most unfortunately It was unfortunate. He supposed. What were we talking about again?
but it has been a pleasure nonetheless. John nodded in thanks for the courtesy. But it really wasn't necessary. Dave had begun pestering him.
oh, but thank you Ok. Rose began pestering him as well. She hit John on the back of the head with a wrinkled hat, but all he could think of was can openers and manners.
thank you so very very much, dear favorable small primate Rose buried her face in her pillow in frustration. Dave was pestering her too now.
i shall take my leave now john. until next time Okay. John turned around. Wait, where'd all this sweet loot come from? And why was there suddenly a crumpled hat on his head?
Feeling especially economical with his behavior suddenly, John scooped up all the grist in the room, and turned his attention to the Punch Designix all in one fell swoop. The device featured a counter-top station design with a keyboard setup, not unlike a piano or an old-fashioned computer. There was a blinking red light, and a diagram etched into a panel. The diagram depicted a captchalogue card being turned over and then being inserted (typed?) into the keyboard? Then it showed the card being inserted into another slot.
Hmm…
In the meanwhile, Rose decided to answer Dave.
TG: ok wait hold on why am i getting this stupid game for you
TG: youre the one who should be wrist deep in puppet ass
TT: What is the specific problem?
TG: the problem is i am up to my goddamn neck in fucking puppet dong
TT: You know you like the mannequin dick. Accept it.
TG: i am enrobed in chafing, wriggling god fucking damned puppet pelvis
TG: an obscenely long, coarse kermit cock is being dragged across my anguished face
TT: Let's put this into perspective. You put up with the puppet prostate because you love it.
TT: Also, coarse is a good word.
TG: you dont seem to harbor any sympathy for the fact that ive burrowed fuck deep into lively, fluffy muppet buttock
TG: im whirling in the terrible cyclone at the epicenter of my own personal holocaust of twitching foam noses
TG: its like a fucking apocalypse of perky proboscis here
TG: like
TG: the proboscalypse i guess
TT: Are you going to start rapping about this?
TG: what no
TG: no listen
TT: Prong of flesh bereft of home
TT: Found solace 'twixt a cleft of foam.
TG: no oh jesus
TT: Of apocalypse your thoughts eclipse
TT: A painted pair of parted lips
TT: That dare through kiss to stir the air
TT: That teases tufts of orange hair.
TT: And though faces flush in lovers' fits,
TT: Hands snug in plush as gloves befit.
TG: ok dickinson if you can shut your perfumey trap for a half second
TG: this is serious
TG: i am just saying
TG: if i see one more soft bulbous bottom being like
TG: kind of jutting out and impudent or whatever
TG: im gonna fly off the handle
TG: im gonna do some sort of acrobatic fucking PIROUETTE off the handle and win like a medal or some shit
TT: Then let's hope there will be a squishy derriere somewhere below the handle to break your fall.
John flipped over the card with the pogo ride on it. On the back was a captcha code. Damn, the things were hard to read. This one said… this one said… DQMmLLeK? Or… wait. DQMmILek? It was hard to tell. He looked at the reverse side of the hammer card in his strife deck. There was a captcha code there too.
John entered the code "DQMmJLeK" into the Punch Designix. He hoped he had it right. The red light switched off and a green one began blinking. He inserted the pogo ride card into the slot and it popped back out quickly with a bunch of holes punched in it.
He then typed in the hammer's code (or, at least, what he thought it was): "nZ7Un6BI" and repeated the process. He now had two cards punched with different codes.
John tried to retrieve the pogo ride from the card with little success. It appeared as though it were trapped. These cards were pretty much useless now, and the items they contained were toast! But maybe not all was lost. Recalling from his experience with the pre-punched card, he might be able to use the cards to replicate the lost items. That is, assuming he'd gotten the codes right.
He mashed the keys randomly, not quite through with his cowboy empiricism just yet. He entered "dskjhsdk". The designix stopped him after eight characters, which appeared to be the maximum length for a code. The green light went on, signaling the Designix's readiness for a card. He figured he might as well burn one of the shaving cream cards, as the items weren't exactly a premium in the house. He also merged the two cans to one card. He was a little sad his Dad wasn't around to see this. John thought he'd get a real kick out of duplicating more shaving cream. He punched the card with the code that was in no way related to the item it contained. Mad science sure was a lot of fun.
Unfortunately, he'd just burned up another card in the process and his deck was beginning to dwindle. Maybe he should have thought this through a bit better. On the plus side, he'd freed up his Dad's PDA, which was overflowing with the pent-up chatter of anxious pesterers.
Just outside John's house, a shale imp was peering through the window into the study, observing the boy. It chuckled with glee as it saw all the random things that the boy was doing with silly cards and machines. And then a shadow loomed up behind it. There was something evil there. Something large and destructive. The imp turned to see…
Rose slammed the bathtub into it and through the wall. The tub smashed through the far wall as well, earning John a lot of grist. John checked his PDA.
TG: PUPPETS
TG: AWESOME
TG: THATS REALLY ALL THERE IS TO SAY ON THE MATTER
- turntechGodhead [TG] changed his mood to RANCOROUS -
TT: John, I'm about to throw a bath tub through your wall.
TT: Watch out.
John peered out the window. There was a staircase leading up to the balcony, but the staircase was ridiculously narrow and precarious in appearance.
EB: wow, that was so totally unnecessary!
TT: I made a shortcut upstairs. I thought it would be a good idea to get up there and try the cards as soon as possible.
TT: Also, you weren't being terribly responsive.
EB: you mean these stairs?
EB: man, look at these shitty stairs...
EB: they're so narrow! i'm supposed to climb those?
TT: They're perfectly navigable.
TT: I'm saving on grist for now.
TT: If you keep slaying foes, collecting grist, and expanding the cache limit, we may not need to be so economical with our resources in the future.
John looked up through the hole in the roof from the safe and saw the first gate.
EB: so why didn't you just build a way up through that hole into my dad's room?
TT: Have you ever been in there?
EB: no.
TT: Exactly.
EB: huh?
TT: I'd rather not get sidetracked.
TT: I'm more interested in further exploring the mechanics of the game than watching you discover what sort outlandish harlequin decor your father keeps in his room.
EB: oh come on. what's the big deal, i'll just climb up and go right through!
TT: Will you?
EB: yeah, why not?
TT: Are you saying you've never wondered what's in there? Or why it's been kept a secret from you?
EB: well, i mean yeah...
TT: Then trust me. You won't be going "right on through."
EB: wait, are you saying there's something, like...
EB: troubling in there?
TT: I don't know.
EB: what do you mean? what do you see in there?
TT: I can't see in there.
EB: oh.
TT: But I don't have a very good feeling about it.
EB: pfff...
EB: whatever!
EB: i think i can handle a few more stupid clown paintings.
Rose brought the punched cards from the Designix up to John's room along with eight cruxite dowels that the imps had extracted from the Cruxtruder.
Before John proceeded with his alchemizing, however, he picked up the grist generated by his co-player's recent exploits. From then on, it would probably go without saying that he'd pick up grist when he defeated a monster, because why wouldn't he?
He looked at the busted safe, which had made a noble sacrifice in battle. Some of his father's odds and ends had spilled out, including some old newspaper clippings and two rather hefty tomes. It was a fair bet to say that these books comprised at least half the weight of the safe.
John captchalogued the tome in the front. It appeared to be a very old copy of Colonel Sassacre, perhaps an original printing! Could it have been the same one involved with his grandmother on that fateful day? Dad would never speak a word of it, but maybe Nanna wouldn't be so tight-lipped. He gave the book a cursory perusal. It appeared to be similar to his reprinting, containing all the same japes and chicanery he'd come to know and love.
Also in the safe was another book: The Fatherly Gent's Shaving Almanac. He was sure his Dad thought this a scintillating read, but it looked pretty boring to John. Maybe he'd crack into it later when he was old enough to shave. Everything in this safe was pretty important to his Dad. He wondered why his old man had kept it locked away from him. Some things about his Dad he'd never understand.
It also appeared as though his father had collected scraps from the news over the years. The articles went back decades! There was one from the Common Hornographer, another from Crockercorp Newspaper… The list went on.
There was also a piece of paper taped to the wall behind the safe. It read:
SON.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, IT MEANS YOU ARE NOW STRONG ENOUGH TO LIFT THE SAFE. YOU ARE NOW A MAN.
AS SUCH, YOU ARE ENTITLED TO WHAT IS INSIDE. I KNOW YOU WILL TAKE THIS RESPONSIBILITY SERIOUSLY.
I AM SO PROUD OF YOU.
John flipped the paper over. On the other side was a code: 02-49-13. He figured it must have been the combination to the safe. It didn't matter now.
John picked up an empty captchalogue card on the ground and flipped it over. The captcha code was all zeroes? They could have been O's. Zeroes would probably make more sense for an empty card, John thought. He captchalogued the card, flinging the totem that had been used to produce the apple out the hole in the side of the room. Oh well. He wouldn't need it again anyway. He hoped.
John looked at the captchalogued captchalogue card. It had the code "11111111" written on it. He entered the code into the Designix and punched the card.
TT: Wait, John, before you punch that.
TT: Oh.
TT: I was about to say.
TT: If you first took note of the code, then removed the card from the card, you could have punched the blank one.
TT: You would have only burned one card instead of two.
EB: oh yeah, you're right.
EB: dammit!
He flung the crumpled hat out the hole in the wall in disgust after the totem. They were both long gone now. He proceeded to captchalogue the punched captchalogued captchalogue card, expelling the PDA from his sylladex. Rose grabbed it before it fell down the bottomless pit, however. She placed it back in the room and John picked it up again in a lapse of concentration. The old Sassacre text flew out of the deck, smashed a hole through another wall, and crushed an imp outside. The two-card sylladex: inventory of dumbasses.
John leveled up to the Pesky Urchin level, gaining 200 boondollars, +15 gel viscosity, +40 cache limit, and +5 man grit!
The Colonel as well soared to new heights on the echeladder, reaching the rung "One Man Julep Vacuum," and pocketing 9550 boondollars. Chump change for the genteel, aristocratic southern colonel.
The bathtub surged heroically and surpassed the rung "Archimedes' Aquacradle," proceeding directly to the vaulted rung: "Taft Jammer." The tub made off with a cool 490 boondollars. The tub's basin capacity remained unaffected.
The safe would have leveled up, but for its heroic death in battle. A great flaming nautical pyre carried it off to Vaulthalla. John stepped through the hole in the wall and inspected the stairs. They looked pretty precarious to him. But he'd been assuredly that they were perfectly navigable. He attempted to run up them, slipped and fell, hugging onto the edge. Lousy goddamn stupid stairs!
Away from this commotion, somewhere behind John, a black hand reached the top of the land podium upon which John's house could be found. Another hand appeared and so did the tip of a jester hat. Whatever it was, it was large. And it was approaching rather quickly…