Baller .pce
A young man sits in his bedroom. His name is Nico Roponi, and it's his day off. He was going to play a game with some friends, but it seems that will have to wait for later. Nico doesn't do well with waiting. He takes a set of juggling balls off his dresser and begins to practice.
Round and round the balls go. Nico thinks about planets orbiting the sun, thinks about a funny send-up of Isaac Newton he saw in that Kids WB cartoon Histeria, thinks about old-timey pantaloons, thinks about court jesters. His thought train has come full-circle, in a way.
His balls have come full-circle as well, have been coming full-circle for who knows how many minutes. Nico gets in a kind of trance once he starts playing with his balls. He finishes with a high-flying flourish and lets the beanbag balls fall one-by-one onto his bed. He wouldn't say juggling is one of his best skills, but it's gotten him laid at a party at least once.
pastelPerfect began pestering arousingAntagonism at 12:09 PM
PP: man kinda lame of TT to get us all hyped of that game and then bail
AA: Well, it IS the middle of the day. We all have things to do.
AA: Plus, have you seen the download time on this thing?
AA: This game is HUGE.
AA: I hope I don't have to delete any schoolwork to fit it on here.
PP: i will buy you another dongle if you need it
AA: God, I wish you would stop calling it that.
PP: haha
PP: u wanna come over?
AA: Can't, I'm in the middle of a project.
AA: Finals are coming up, you know.
PP: yup
PP: cya tonight when we play, i guess
SBURB is installing…
Estimated time remaining: 49 minutes
"Jeez," Nico groans to himself, looking at the laptop on his desk. He can't wait that long to try this game. He has to find something to do. He texts another girl.
PP: wyd
PP: i need someone to keep me company lol
She doesn't respond. Nico goes upstairs.
Pack-Stuffer ~ATH
Many years in the future, a Perspicacious Sojourner, his black carapace wrapped in faded, shredding cloth to protect against the harsh wasteland winds, has arrived at a destination he's been watching grow on the horizon for many hours as he crossed the lifeless, sandy expanse of this formerly glorious planet. The structure he moves toward is spherical, lodged haphazardly in the crater it made when it landed. Once plated in white metal, it has been stained yellow by the radioactive desert sands, which stir ferociously in the wind like living whips. A large gash has been made across the horizontal axis, exposing the dark maze of rooms inside. This is the Sojourner's entry point.
He uses a grappling hook to scale the short distance from the ground to the opening, then climbs inside. It is dark, but as his eyes adjust to the darkness, the Sojourner notices dim lights within the darkness – blue, lining the floor. These must be the emergency low-power guide lights. It's amazing this thing still has any power at all after the centuries it's been here. Precariously, the Sojourner follows the lights into the darkness, with his hand on the wall for stability – the whole place is tilted slightly to the left.
The halls wind about, and he finds chamber after chamber with the hatches sealed, unable to activate the lift mechanisms without the required power. There's always a manual option, but of course, the doors have also rusted shut. He presses on into the darkness, hoping that one of these doors down the line will open.
Finally, he spots a supply cabinet on the wall. It's just as rusty as the doors, but the Sojourner applies his trusty crowbar and pops the hatch open. It lets out a pressurized hiss as a cold cloud of ancient sealed air rushes to join the rest of the world. Several small yellow packages fall out. Nutrient Cubes –basically astronaut food, an easy find. There's got to be more in here, though. This wasteland wanderer is getting sick of Nutrient Cubes for every meal.
Further down, he sees a strong glow coming from around a corner. Could it be working machinery? Or something else?
He hurries to the corner and spots it: a hexagonal shape, brimming with pulsing golden life energy, lying in a corner. He rushes over to it, then carefully bends down to examine it. At the same time, he begins to hear movement from the other end of the corridor. He's not alone in here.
He spins around – there's even less time than he thought. A ragged figure shuffles down the corridor, bumping gently into the wall with each step, heedless of the tilted floor. Its decaying clothes hang off of it in strips of magenta, and a foul black liquid bubbles from the mouth hanging open beneath its white, lifeless eyes. Looks like the Sojourner won't be able to save his find after all. He's going to need it now.
He grabs the edges of the hexagonal shape firmly, crushing it with all the might in his thin arms. It suddenly shatters, dissolving into a glowing golden mist that rapidly osmoses into his body. The effect is temporary – he's not the type of being these things were made for – but it'll do in a pinch. He swings at the shambling Ghast, and his twig of an arm is transformed into a mighty weapon. He punches right through its soggy, broken skull, spreading a trail of fetid goo, and the Ghast collapses into a heap.
The Sojourner pants with exertion as the effects of the gold mist leave his body. He wipes the goo from his hand on the wall as he stares at the thing he has just destroyed. Down in the direction the thing came from, the Sojourner spots another cabinet, but this one is bigger and bulkier – the jackpot! He pries it open and is met with another cool and quite welcome blast of air. Fresh fruit tumbles out of the leaning cabinet. Apples, oranges, and cherries lay scattered across the floor. The Perspicacious Sojourner quickly gathers them into the cloth sack that hangs from his back.
He hears more shuffling and moaning down the corridor as the rest of the Ghasts approach. He decides it's time to quit while he's ahead and beat feet out of this ancient ruin.
The King's Balls ~ATH
As a dark fleet descended upon the checkerboard planet, a second, smaller force moved to besiege the home planet of their adversaries. Teams of swift-moving Midships the size of cars scattered over the golden spires of the planet called Prospit, blasting furiously at strategic targets located throughout the governing district. Sirens sounded; the Prospitan Air Force was nowhere to be seen, fully engaged in the other battle as they were. It was up to the ground forces.
An Obedient Knight assumed his post at a crossbow turret on the parapets of the White Castle, the central stronghold of the Prospitan monarchy. He turned the medieval hand crank to line up his turret, waited for the approaching ship to enter his range, fired. Midships may fly, but they're not very fast at it. The shot was a direct hit, tearing into the vital engine systems and starting a fire that very quickly turned into an explosion. Bits of the ship rained down on the shingles of the towers below.
"Superb shot!" said a high-pitched voice beside him. The Knight turned to see who it is and was nearly blinded by the eye-watering hot pink outfit of the unorthodox King of Prospit. Traditionally, the aristocracy of Prospit wear robes of pale blue, with accents of soft pink and pastel green; even the King's own Queen still wears the traditional garb. However, a few months ago, the White King suddenly changed his tune. He cast off the traditions of old, ordered a brand-new wardrobe of frilly hot pink, got fitted for a ridiculous powdered wig that was almost half his height, atop which he had perched the tiniest crown. He even forced everyone to start addressing him as the "Super King." And at the moment he stood beside this unremarkable peon, complimenting his performance in the middle of a heated battle like one would compliment a friend's tennis serve.
"Well, you seem to have things under control here," the Super King continued. "I'm going to head off to perform my kingly duties now; you know these things cannot wait. Only a Super King like me can be trusted to handle all this dreadful business.
"I've got a special job for you in particular, Mr. Knight, since you seem to be the one in charge here." The Obedient Knight looked up and down the parapets. They were lined with identical crossbow turrets manned by almost identical soldiers of the exact same rank and experience level.
"In my throne room," Super King continued, unheeding of the Knight's anxious jitters, "I have some balls. They're special balls, and I simply cannot let them fall into the wrong hands. If something bad happens, here, make sure you take them and hide them. Handle my balls with great care, young Knight, hm?" He tittered at this.
"Ta-ta," he finished, waving goodbye as he turned and walked away. "Take care! Best of luck fighting the war and all that!"
The Obedient Knight stared in amazement at the departing King. What choice did he have but to follow his sovereign's orders? He could only hope it didn't come to such dire circumstances. He turned his attention back to his turret and continued firing.
Felt .pce
A young woman sits in her dorm room. Her name is Mara Layton, and she's knee-deep in her sewing. As an art student, her class projects are typically more two-dimensional in nature, but being the cosplay fanatic that she is, she decided to take a Costuming class from the Theater department this semester, and her fingers are paying for it. This is probably the most ambitious costume she's ever taken on (a period-accurate colonial governor's wife's gown that was converted into a fearsome pirate captain's outfit when the narrative in her head took an exciting turn), and she still has her regular drawing classes for which she's putting off the finals projects until the last minute. She definitely doesn't have time for playing video games.
littleBirdie began pestering arousingAntagonism at 12:17 PM
LB: hey can i come over?
LB: i'm trying to pregame for natalie's party but i think mom and dad are totally on to me so i can't be drinking in the house anymore lol
AA: Wow, are you being serious right now?
AA: I'd feel like a dick if I said no, but do you honestly need to drink that much?
AA: I didn't know anyone else in high school that drank as much as you.
LB: omg shut up i only have less than a month left
LB: there's literally nothing important going on rn
LB: at least just let me crash after the party
LB: pleeeeeease :)
AA: Fine, okay, I can do that.
AA: I'll talk to Chel, but it should be cool.
LB: k i'm still coming over early to get ready
LB: byyyyye bitch!
Little sisters can be so annoying. Mara's roommate and best friend, Chel, is busy with finals projects of her own. On the opposite side of the dorm room, she's set up with her ink painting stuff at her own desk. She has her headphones plugged in to her phone.
arousingAntagonism began pestering deeperReaper at 12:19 PM
AA: Is it cool if Ella comes over in a bit?
DR: Yeah that's fine. I'll probably just be working tho
AA: Honestly, same. I don't have time for that girl's BS… Lol
Varmints .pce
A young man stands in front of his house. His name is Theo Jaspers, and even though he has to work today, his Mom is making him do chores. Living at home is such a drag. He wishes he lived in the city, like the rest of his friends, but dropping out of college seems to have dried up a lot of his opportunities. Now he's stuck filling in gopher holes in the hot sun with no reward waiting but an eight-hour shift standing listlessly behind a cash register. At least he has that game downloading on his computer; he can look forward to playing with his friends after work. He has a feeling, though, that it's going to be a long day. He's not sure he'll have enough energy to stay awake and play games tonight.
Leaning on the shovel he's been using, he stares into the bright blue sky. Overhead, a faraway plane streaks across the sky, leaving a thin white contrail. It adds to the gridwork of the many already criss-crossing the sky, and Theo wonders what could be causing it. There wasn't usually this much plane traffic over his house. Must be something in the air.
Theo checks the time. He has to get moving if he's going to make it to work on time. Those guys have a real stick up their ass about getting there exactly on time, and he still needs to put gas in his car.
tortugaTerran began pestering breadZeppelin at 12:22 PM
TT: Hey, I have to leave for work.
TT: Can you finish my stupid gopher hole chore?
BZ: no
TT: ?
BZ: i told Mom i can't go out because of my allergies
TT: BS
TT: Man, you're like that one Calvin & Hobbes comic.
TT: If you do every job half-assed, she won't make you do them anymore, huh?
BZ: you got it
BZ: i'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet
TT: Someone has to get shit done around here.
TT: There's probably no point asking Charlie to do it for me, either.
TT: If Mom asks why I didn't finish, tell her to shove it up her ass.
BZ: roger that
Being the oldest is a real pain in the ass sometimes. Theo spots one of those rodent bastards sticking his head out of the ground and carefully grips his shovel, wielding it like a polearm. He supposes he has time to fill one more hole before work. It's not a gopher-hole he's going to fill, though; it's going to be a grave for this stupid little rat.
Guys Fiery .pce
A young man stands inside his garden-level apartment, staring out the window. His name is Kato Josuke, and the apartment building next door to him is on fire.
tuneHarmonic began pestering swiftJustice at 12:06 PM
TH: hey our neighbor's apartment is on fire.
SJ: Oh my God, what?
SJ: Did you call the fire department?
TH: got a busy signal lol
TH: have you heard the sirens all day?
TH: sounds like they're kinda stretched thin
SJ: Jesus… Alright, I'm on my way home.
SJ: Please tell me it's not going to spread to our place.
SJ: Not that I'm trying to, like, minimize their suffering or anything…
TH: relax, it's fine
TH: i think
By the time his roommate and distant cousin, Aris, arrives, Kato is standing outside with the rest of the gawking crowd. There's a huge hole missing in the brick wall, which may or may not have something to do with the cause of the fire. Aris pulls up in front of their building and gets out of his car.
"Do you know how it started?" he asks Kato, walking up to him and shielding his eyes as he gazes up at the flames.
"There was some kind of explosion, I think," Kato replies. "I heard it just before."
"Oh my god, there's someone up there!" someone in the crowd screams. Kato looks up. They're right.
Luckily for the victims, Kato and Aris are quick-thinking individuals. Kato runs up to the porch, where a tie-dye tapestry is hanging in one of the first-floor windows. He smashes it out with a porch chair and rips the tapestry down. He meets Aris halfway down the front walk, which he is already racing across, and he grabs the other end of the tapestry. They stretch it out and call up to the person trapped in the second-story window.
"JUMP!" they shout. The person does as they're told.
It's not as effective as a fire department trampoline, but Kato and Aris are strong enough to keep it taut. They're also smart enough to keep it over the grass in case it fails. The result is somewhere in between failure and success. The person takes a clumsy but slowed tumble into the grass. Good enough.
Judgment .pce
Three hours earlier, a handsome man stands in a courtroom. His name is Aris Barkley, and he's representing the plaintiff in a civil case. His client, a woe-struck mother, sits at the table beside him. He presents his opening case to the court.
COURT RECORD
BARKLEY: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, imagine you return home from work one day to find your child comatose, simply from playing a video game. This is the situation my client, Dottie Hackman, was faced with on the 14th of March. Her son, Kyle, was found unresponsive at the desk in his bedroom, with the brand-new Skaianet Innocuous Rift virtual reality system strapped to his head. According to the doctors, he was in absolutely normal physical condition for a teenage boy, with no underlying health conditions, but his heart suddenly stopped. What could have possibly caused this?
BARKLEY: For those of you unfamiliar with the Innocuous Rift, let me explain it a bit. It began with the discovery of the Omega Brainwave, which scientists in the employ of the Skaianet Corporation found they could replicate in order to induce stimulation of a subject's five senses – they could project images into the mind, sounds, smells, taste, even physical sensations, like being touched, or being submerged in water. Skaianet patented this technology, and hastily released their first product to utilize it – a completely immersive virtual reality gaming system.
BARKLEY: Of course, when young Kyle Hackman purchased and installed the Innocuous Rift, he agreed to certain liability conditions, as anyone using any sort of software would. Typically, these health warnings are reserved for things like epilepsy and motion sickness. Why would a healthy teenage boy be worried about sudden heart failure? It certainly wasn't something he would have foreseen when agreeing to the terms of service. And, as I will prove over the course of this trial, neither was it foreseen by the company who created it.
BARKLEY: By rushing this untested, highly irregular, and bodily invasive product to the market, Skaianet has accidentally created something lethal, something that works in ways they didn't intend; therefore their terms of service are null and void and they should be found liable for the death of Kyle Hackman. Thank you.
He sits back at the table next to the quivering Mrs. Hackman and eyes the sleazy Skaianet lawyer as he gets up to present his case. He feels a little bad fighting against the company that his dear, generous Auntie works for, but justice is justice. The company's greed shall have consequences.
The trial adjourns for the day in the middle of the lunch recess when Aris informs the judge about the fire currently encroaching on his apartment.
"Tomorrow," Aris tells himself as he drives home. "Tomorrow I'll nail those bastards."
He doesn't know that he will not see the sun rise on this planet another day.
Illegal Street Rally ~ATH
On the darkest edge of the same star system where Prospit gleams like a beacon in the gloom, a dreary planet of violet and obsidian orbits. This is Derse, home to the other half of the war being waged on the planet at the heart of the system. On one side, there is an empty expanse of vast nothingness; on the other side lies the rest of the system, ripe for conquest by the insidious Black Monarchs.
Down on the dingy streets of the heavily populated city-planet, the Monarchs' war means nothing. Many hapless citizens have already been drafted, but for those who remained, either absolved or derelict of duty, the daily struggle persists. For those seeking to eke out a living by honest means, the authoritarian regime's heavy taxes and restrictions weigh on them like an iron pillory. In addition, the merchants and artisans of the city must also contend with the impositions of organized crime syndicates, the true rulers of the lower districts. Between these two ruthless masters, an honest life is no way to get by on this planet.
The unscrupulous, however, prosper here. A towering beefcake known as Hearts Boxcars is one of the four bosses of the crime syndicate known as the Midnight Crew, and he's just collected protection money from an entire block of businesses. He goes immediately to one of the bookies who work for his gang. He places all the money on himself to win this evening's street race. He makes sure to include a threat to the bookie to keep this bet under wraps. If the boss knew what he's been doing with the weekly take, he'd be in some real hot water.
Race time comes, and Hearts is seated behind the wheel of his jalopy, bouncing in the seat as the engine sputters away. He is the first one to peal out when the yellow flag waves, and he remains at the head of the pack until he rounds the first corner on the city street. Citizens on the sidewalks dive for cover as the thunderous street racers rumble by. Hearts pulls ahead, checking his mirrors to make sure no one is behind him, then quickly swerves into an alleyway.
The other racers speed by, his jalopy unnoticed in the dark mouth of the alleyways between two of Derse's massive spire buildings. When the last engine drones out of earshot, Hearts backs up his jalopy and heads another direction, weaving through more alleys and side streets. Let these other simpletons think they have a chance, he chuckles to himself. He's going to make sure he's the first one across that finish line.
As he pulls out of another alleyway, he hears the distant drone of the other racers getting closer. He pulls out onto the street and gets up to speed again, going just slow enough to let the other racers at the head of the pack see him as he guns it across the finish line. His shortcuts have never failed him. He grins with a private glee as he pulls his jalopy over and gets out, holding his beefy hand out to the bookie to collect his winnings. Let the boss call him a worthless gambler. Can it really be called gambling when the outcome is a sure thing?