Posts Tagged ‘AYCOoB’

Posted: November 17, 2014 by fischfail in Gaming, Updates
Tags: , , ,

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The first night is always the hardest. Strangers in a strange land, brought together under stranger circumstances.

Sometimes they trust each other just enough to make it somewhere and almost make a difference. Other times some crazy woman with a bag full of books gets everyone killed off before they even know each others’ names.

This, of course, has all happened before. Many times, but this time is different. I can’t tell you how I know that, but I do…

A new environment. New enemies. New friends. New friends that might become new enemies (and vice-versa!). New weapons. New rules.

More coming soon.

tacopocalypse

AYCOoB: Burning Wrath of God – The Silence

Posted: November 27, 2012 by drezirale in Gaming
Tags: , ,

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(To my family, even though you are all with God. You’ll never leave my heart.)

May 16, 2014:

It’s a little quieter than usual. I’m actually not used to this. Not but a few moments ago this area echoed with the sounds of gunfire and explosions. However, there is now and eerie calm along the land. Perhaps it’s so strange to me not because the fighting has taken but a momentary pause, but rather it’s because I am truly alone now. I’ve just finished burying my brother–the very last family member I had. I’ve seen each member of my family murdered before my very eyes in this past year. I guess these are the things that happen in a war. Whatever the case may be Jerusalem is quiet… for tonight at the very least.

I’ve manage to find an abandoned house located near The Mount of Olives. The house is not in the safest of regions as it’s in Palestinian territory. I believe no one saw me enter and it’s boarded up nature–possibly by it’s prior residents, will aid in my concealment. If I were in fact to be attacked at this very moment there is not much I could do to defend myself as I have exhausted all of my ammunition for my pistol. At this current moment I have but a knife, simple provisions to last me a few days, and… this. This is the map my brother was carrying, the map that lead to his death. I cannot believe I still have this cursed thing. This map highlights all of the Palestinian encampments in Jerusalem, the camps my brother intended to assault.

Should I continue his mission? Should I take revenge for my family members who have been lost in the God forsaken war? I don’t even remember how the fighting even started, or which side is right anymore. Why did I even bother enlisting as a soldier. All of the men in my family did and they are all now dead. Does any of this fighting even matter? Has this land ever seen a time of peace? Why can’t the fighting just stop? Not just for tonight but forever. Both sides have lost so much it just needs to stop! Though, tonight it’s peaceful. If someone should happen to find this and never awaken… please remember my story. My name is Vayichar Af Hashem and today is my thirteenth birthday.

AYCOoB: Something bad has happened… Part 4

Posted: August 27, 2012 by fischfail in Gaming
Tags: , ,

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Author’s note: It has been a while since we last visited the tragic story of S3v3n, and you may want to reacquaint yourself with the rest of the story before continuing on. The chapters, if I may be so bold, can be found at the following links: “The Flood,” “The Storm,” part 1, part 2, and part 3.

 Although I lost the original writing of Part 4, and this is a remake, I could not let the story just fall to the wayside. When I first began writing the “Something bad has Happened…” series, it was only supposed to be a 4 part series, and the one reason I could never finish part 4 is: I am in love with S3v3n and Kara. I couldn’t just leave there story to end as such. And as such the new plan is to continue this series until I feel it complete.

I hope you continue to enjoy this story as much as I have.  With that, I feel it is time for the story to begin once again…

I’m not really sure what happened after I collapsed. I remember falling to the ground, screaming in pain, and wishing to die, but after that nothing.

I awoke to an odd tickling sensation. Keeping my eyes closed and enjoying the soft sounds of wind, I brought my hand to my chin and briefly rubbed my cheek. My hand felt cold and clammy, but wholly there. This entire thing has been some long strange nightmare. Everything was actually fine, and I couldn’t explain the tickling sensation so I assumed fucking fly’s were feasting on the charred, disfigured remains of my flesh.

The wind was steadily growing louder… No, that wasn’t right, it was growing…. Closer. But that is impossible. Wind doesn’t get closer, it is constant, unless you move towards it. The “closer” the sound drew, the more it reminded me of… “Gizmo.” It was a certain whirring that I had come to associate with him. How I missed him.

But there was one problem, this sound was coming from every direction at once. I finally opened my eyes, above me I could see thousands of cables running through the air; to my left I could see a bank of digital screens, like the one in my helmet; to my right a reflective surface, the word “funehawse” came to mind, but that was probably wrong.

I had seen them before, of course, but there was something wrong with this one. It distorted your image in some way that seemed to make no sense.

It made the viewer have a long scraggly beard, and gave them shiny limbs… And changed the color of their eyes… How peculiar?

I swung my legs to the side of the bed I was on… No bed was not the correct term, it was more like a soft table, and sat up. After a slight dizzy spell passed I was able to look at myself more closely in the “funehawse,”  how peculiar indeed.

“S3v3n, you have awoken, how do you feel?”  I recognized the sound of the voice almost instantly. It was CDQ5…. “John.”

After a moment of refusing to answer, the man-monster machine-thing spoke again: “Sorry, we had to sedate you. You were becoming a danger to both yourself and the forum, it was something that could not be tolerated. You should once again be fully operational, if you would follow me, we can begin moving forward.”

…Sedate me?

I brought my left hand to my face, the image in the funehawse matched my movements exactly, this time I could clearly feel it, the funehawse wasn’t playing tricks on me, I had a beard… A long one.

“How long have I been asleep?” My voice still sounded… Off. Then the memories came flashing back to me. Painfully fast, and in terrifying relief. The explosion. The missing arm. The… Voice modulator.

“Please S3v3n, if you would please follow me, I will explain. There is something I want to show you.” I shakily stood up and took a few steps. It felt as though I were stepping through mud, my legs were stiff. My boots produced a strange tinking sort of sound. It wasn’t a sound I could immediately place, but with all that happened, who knew? I followed “John” through a maze of corridors and doorways, if he didn’t bring me back I could be lost forever.

Finally, we arrive at a large door, and I can no longer take the silence. “I suppose whatever is behind this door is going to explain everything to me?” I can’t so much as hear “John” as feel him inside my head.

“Yes, but you may want to take a moment to steel yourself, this images behind this door and what they represent can be a little troubling to take in at first…” With that he unlocked the door and pushed it open.

As we walked in, I immediately noticed that I could see where I shouldn’t be able to. And something became immediately clear, although I am not sure how… This was a flesh slave farm.

The image, try as I might to explain is impossible. Imagine a person, connected to every type of testing machine in existence, with cables actually inserted into their body. Imagine, if you will that same person with a facial appearance that combines absolute terror, complete and total pain, and pure bliss all at the same time. Now suspend that person in a tube filled for pinkish goo. To make it all worse, imagine that person having both legs and arms removed for some unknown purpose. Finally, imagine that person’s flesh dissolving away, exposing muscular tissue and in some cases bone.

Now, take that exact scene and replicate it…

Hundreds, if not thousands of times.

“John” was speaking again, he was always speaking… I tried to focus, but this room was overwhelming, it was too much to take in at once…

“If you would follow me… I will explain.” With that, he lead me to a chair, in front of a bank of displays. Before I could protest, I felt myself being secured into place by straps unseen.

After all that has happened my fate is to live for an eternity as a… Science project?

I felt a moment of utter bliss stemming from my right forearm… The forearm that was no longer there. I remember it getting blown off, I saw it on the ground with my own two eyes.

“We were able to reattach your arm… Well a arm, at least, I think you will find this one superior to the one you lost…” The conversation ended at that. I looked down to see an arm there, directly in the place it should exist.

Except this one was metal, and appeared to have quite a bit of functionality, although I would be damned if I knew how to use it.

And there, directly in the middle of my forearm was a cable that ran from the ceiling and into my arm. If not for the feeling of sheer bliss, it would have been terrifying.

“Relax, S3v3n, it will make sense very soon…” And with that, I felt my right arm tense, my vision blur, and then darkness.

A darkness I never thought would end, but as I was beginning to lose all hope, there in the distance was a tiny glow. I glow I knew I must follow if I ever wanted to make it out of this…

Whatever the fuck this was…

 

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It’s been a good run so far with FFI, and although we have a few slow-downs recently, we’re still growing every day.

Rainy Lake - August 2011-13

Rainy Lake - August 2011-13 (Photo credit: fabfotophotography)

If you are a reader of one little blog, casual or otherwise, you most likely won’t understand the title of this entry, and that’s a-ok. If you’re an author, most likely you won’t either, but you should and shame on you.

This date, August 13 2011, was when over one-thousand collective brains got to see the beauty that is Fisch Fail Inc. It was also the day that I noticed our blog was becoming something of a big deal. Honestly until that point I mostly blogged for no one, except for maybe myself and Mr. Fail, but afterward I began doing it for a lil ones… I mean the readers.

Seriously though; you guys have gotten us to new heights, and for that I am thankful.

A lot of crap has gone down recently (more on that later) so the blog has gotten somewhat neglected as of late, but hopefully that will change and more posts will be on their way.

Here’s to getting 1000000 views before the end of the year!


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Fisch Fail, INC, is still a baby, still growing, still something…infant

If we were a human baby, we would be learning to speak, and maybe eat something that didn’t have the consistency of baby food. But fuck, we’ve already moved on to tacos and alcohol… Says something about us!

Anyway, yesterday we hit a random milestone… 20,000 views (and damnit, I was going to make sure I got to make this announcement!).

So, it took us nearly a year and a half to get our first 10,000… It took us 6 months, to get our second.

Lets try and beat that record (for us) even quicker.

Tell everyone about FFI, let’s do it!

 

 

 


Minute by Minute

Image via Wikipedia

So another day, another post.

I took a brief step away from the blog, mostly out of being busy as hell, partly, honestly, from bitterness.

I come back to the blog and find that some people are actually POSTING again?!?

Everyone tell Drez to stop distracting me and to do his homework…

…Okay, now that’s done and over…

I have absolutely no clue as to what I should be writing about these days. I mean hell it’s not really hindering me, because I can ramble on uselessly for pages…

…like. right. now.

I suppose this is basically a life-of-luz-update.

Sidenote: Luz-Obliterations or was it LuzOb-Literations? whatever… is NOT going away forever, I just haven’t been reading from my Kindle in forever (I have a first ed. hardbound Larry Correia book I’m working on) so as soon as I start Kindling (?) again I will be posting more rough-as-cowshit Luz-Whateverthefucks.

I HAVE A LUZOB GLASS! thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Fail (or whatever… don’t you love my vague days?!?) and will most likely be posted by one of them or myself. If I had my sd-to-usb reader on me I’d post it now… oh well.

Man I LO~OOOVE when people little effeminate ringtones go off in a dead quiet space… then persist because the douche-tabogan has big-ass headphones on and cannot hear said effeminate ringtone… THEN persist to get jingly-balls text messages… I swear if my Give Everyone One Free RPG Round a Decade law ever came into effect…

In time, my friends… in time.

Okay… so now about other “projects…”

Well certain things are on less-then-temporary hiatus (most of my broadcasting and rpg shit) others are just pretending to hide under the surface…

Soon…

Apparently we’re gonna hit another FFI milestone here soon, and I’m sure one of us will keep you posted when we get there…

But yeah, I’m tired of writing, and I want a submarine sandwich (who says that anymore?) so I think I’ma go do that.

Lastly; I just got accepted into a very awesome and very terrifying University program in WEGJGWJHGERHERH and this may begin encroaching upon my reading/writing/breathing time… but we’ll see!

 

ps: oh, apparently it is LuzOb-Literations…

The story of Eric “Bjorn” Edredsson

Posted: October 4, 2011 by Grimnir in Anger, Gaming
Tags: , ,

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(this is the account of a new player character in AYCOoB)

 

Through a translator, Bjorn told us the story of how he came to us:

We fought as hard as we ever had, but their strength was in numbers. Warriors of the Christ god came in the dark of early morning and began the attack.

I failed them.

I failed to protect my people, and no matter how many of them I struck down with my sword, another of the attackers would take his place. And then I was all that was left, Fighting off a crowd of our assailants. an arrow found it’s way to my back and I fell to my knees. All I could do then was watch as the animals took fire to my village and stole away our women and children. The men they had captured were slaughtered without honor, bloodshed for it’s own sake. I closed my eyes as I felt a darkness suddenly take me and the world went black.
When next I opened my eyes I let out a cry and leapt to where my sword had fallen, but in vain for I was in this strange place with all of you staring at me. And you all speak so strangely to me, and wear such strange clothing. You tell me it has been a thousand years or more since my people lived in this world and these strange objects that make fire and sound are all new to me. I don’t know how I am here with you, but by the sword in my hand and gods on high, I will protect you all until my dying breath. I thank you for watching over me during my time in the darkness.

I will protect you as I could not protect my people and I thank the gods for giving me a chance to redeem myself.

May the gods watch over you

Måtte Æser ser deg

Ullersson

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Hello, this is part of an ongoing mini-series, please make sure to read the first chapters before continuing. They can be found at part 1 and part 2. If you are a returning reader, thank you for sticking with this series for this long.

Looking back now, I distinctly remember a small, dim light. I stepped inside, the helmet immediately switched to night vision mode. And then the world briefly exploded, the helmet switched to blackout mode, it muted the outside world, locked down, and started pumping pure, clean oxygen into my lungs. Someone set off a toxic flash grenade. My helmet saved my life once again.

Lot of good it did me. I still couldn’t see, hear, or smell anything outside the helmet. Then I felt an explosion of force at the back of my neck… I was falling into a bottomless pit of nothing…

And then I was back, there was a white-hot, searing pain in my right arm, in my bicep. I screamed, I was falling backwards, I felt dizzy, and my body was burning and freezing at the same time. What the fuck just happened?

Then there was silence and my helmet slowly exited blackout mode, I could see the ceiling arching high above. I lifted my head and such an immediate sense of vertigo caused me to vomit. Just my luck… The fucking helmet was still locked into place…

After a few moments, I lifted my head; my arm was still burning hot. I couldn’t see my hand, and I figured it out. When I fell, I landed on my hand, probably breaking a bone, and the damn thing was lodged under me. The helmet opened itself: I sat up. “John” was standing there with a pile a burned, charred shit around him. The smell hit me and I vomited again. It was something I had experienced before. Something that had happened to me before…

It was charred flesh.

I was finally able to stand up, I felt strangely unbalanced, and this fucking broken bone HAD to be fixed… I noticed something on the ground; it was an arm, separated in the…… forearm, still holding a bomb, still wearing a ring…

Still holding my bomb and wearing the ring that “Baby Doll” had given me… I looked at it with confusion; this had to be a dream. My arm was burning again, I looked down not expecting to find anything… And I wasn’t disappointed.

That was when I fainted…

I woke some time later, I could hear a faint beeping that was steadily growing louder, and it was drilling into my head. A steady, grating sound, which I would have killed to stop… And then it stopped just as suddenly as it had started.

I noticed my helmet was no longer in place; I was also stripped down to my pants and boots. I could hear “John,” but he sounded far away, and like he was under water.

He was standing right next to the bed, after focusing for a few minutes; I was able to start making out what he was saying…  “…… to me.  S3v3n, if you can hear what I am … reply to me. Speaking will be no …, you just have to think about it.” I wanted to scream that I was fine, but I found it difficult. I focused on the innate ability to speak.

“…hut up! You fuckin……” My voice sounded strange and it was painful to speak, the helmet had obviously not stopped the flash bang in time. I wanted to ask what the fuck happened, but I was back asleep…

I have no idea how long I was out this time, but when I woke up, I found myself starving and actually able to ask for food, I noticed something still sounded strange with my voice. Maybe food will help.

“John” brought me some food, some sort of high protein meal. It tasted like fucking chalk, but I felt better almost immediately, with the exceptions being my throat and arm…

My arm! I had forgotten about my fucking arm, I tried to lift it and found it secured to my body…

“What the fuck happened to me?” I was hardly able to ask the entire question, I started feeling dizzy again. I set my head down.

“S3v3n, I am sorry about what has happened to you. There was a group of rogue individuals who somehow made it past the first barrier of the forum. They apparently waited in darkness for the first signs of entry. Their plans were to take whoever walked through the door hostage and gain admission into the forum. I promise you, you are safe now, this should have never happened, and I am sorry you were caught in the crossfire. Most of the forum is scouring the area for a missing system, the one that is believed to have allowed the group admission in the first place.

You may find it hard to speak for a few days; we had to replace your vocal cords with a voice synthesizer. Try and rest for the next few days, they are going to be rough for your body.” He was still speaking, but I was falling back asleep, I doubt anything else he said had importance. After all, he told me everything I needed to hear…

“John” was still standing there when I woke up again. I was able to sit up, and even though my arm was still wrapped to my body, I knew that it ended in the middle of the bicep…

Great, a cripple in the world where any single handicap means death… “Am I allowed to stand up and walk around? Or is that against some fucked up rules?” I sounded harsher than I had meant, but I wasn’t in a good place.

“John” signaled to someone with his hand and few people approached me. Great, just how I wanted to die… A fucking cripple getting gang raped in some shit hole by a bunch of fucking slaves…

They helped me stand up; my legs were weak and shaky. Thankfully the supported my body, thankfully I didn’t fall again.

They helped me walk for about a hour, a group of passive souls helping the weak. I almost fell several times, but they never let me actually hit the ground. I can’t being to explain the joy I felt at actually being helped for once in life.

They finally let me go, I made it about ten steps on my own before my right leg faltered and I was lying on my face down on the cold concrete. I screamed, my throat seared in pain… I only wished for death…

AYCOoB: Something bad has happened… Part 2

Posted: September 28, 2011 by fischfail in Gaming
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The Martello Tower in Wasteland

Image via Wikipedia

I must say, I was quite the sight. Here I am, a guy barely reaching five and half feet tall, and weighing a little over 120 pounds wearing a long cloak, a reconnaissance helmet, a hidden backpack, and twin kukris at my side. I looked like some goddamned giant mutated combative turtle or something…

We set out immediately. It was extremely bright out today, my helmet which usually does a very good job at properly adjusting and filtering the sun was struggling between trying to blind me and keeping me in total darkness. And while I am no stranger to the light of day, I do prefer the cover of darkness… It’s when I work best.

We had been walking for about three hours before, what I presumed to be, trouble arose. In the road stood 13 Antar, 5 or 6 Rakers, 4 other Archor, and what appeared to be a Topledo…

God I wanted to kill that one right then and there, but it was a small fish. Killing the piece of shit would serve no purpose in the end and ultimately would make me feel no better…

I pleaded with ‘John’ that we should hide before they could see us, that we should walk around this block… And ignore this group altogether, and approaching them would surely mean our death. He just laughed, said “Shut up, say nothing….. Let me handle everything…” and continued walking. Each step only seemed to be confirming our deaths.

Time stretched out before us: each breath, a lifetime; each step, a millennia…

As we neared them, their conversation abruptly ended, they tensed. I remember thinking: “This is it; this is how I’m going to die. I am not going down without a fight goddamnit. Even if I only take one of them out, I won’t feel quite as bad about trusting ‘John,’ who has apparently found me just to lead me to my death…”

Under my cloak, my hands seek out the worn handles of my kukris. There is comfort in knowing that at the opposite ends of the handles are heavy blades designed to inflict as much damage as possible. And then something interesting happened. The Archor of the group seemed to twitch. My helmet was able to pick up the conversation, something I didn’t even know was possible.

“Who is your friend….. CDQ544386?”

‘John’ simply stated “It is a new flesh slave for VDR. I am hoping it will be able to help install ‘new’ systems…” The unknown Archor seemed to get a laugh out of that. I personally had no idea what the hell they were talking about, however, let me try to explain I have never been so thankful for the tinting function of this helmet. Had any of them been able to actually see my face at that point, they probably would have ripped me to pieces and spread me across the landscape…

Instead, ‘John’ told me to go take a seat on a nearby rock, and being the perfect little slave that I was, I followed the orders. And then my helmet suddenly muted everything that was said. ‘John’ had wanted me to hear that conversation. He had actually saved my life. As all of this dawned on me, I noticed ‘John’ removed small items from his cloak, and even with the helmet’s amazing capabilities, I couldn’t make them out from this distance.

I may never know what was given to the rag-tag gang, but I do know what was handed back: a white brick.

After a few more moments, ‘John’ walked to where I was seated, grabbed my cloak, pulled me to my feet, and continued our journey. He said nothing for a long time, at least an hour, and no matter how hard I tried to strike a conversation, I was unable to. My helmet not only seemed to be stuck in full stealth mode (a mode that blocks all internal noise), but the damn thing also seemed to be locked into place. Finally, I could hear myself breathing again, stealth mode had been deactivated. I stopped dead where I was, refusing to move even another inch until I had some answers

“What the fuck was that? I’m not a fucking flesh slave! What the fuck is a flesh slave!? What the fuck did you trade for? How the fuck can you control my helmet!?” The questions were flying out before I could actually consider what I was saying. I was pissed.

“Listen to me; I did that for your safety. I protected you…  And you are not a flesh slave, that was a….. Diversion. It was necessary. As for the stuff I traded, it is called ‘Hawking,’ and it is none of your concern… For now.” With that ‘John’ turned his back to me and continued his trek along this unknown path. Over his shoulder, I heard him call “Come or stay, it does not matter to me…”

What choice did I really have?

I followed, at a distance… In silence. We walked the entire day, stopping only once so I could eat a bit of food. The day wore on, my helmet slowly starting lightening its screen, and then slowly starting showing everything the grey-green of night vision. Before long, I could see nothing without the helmet in place.

When ‘John’ finally spoke again, he simply said “We camp here for the night. This is the STV forum, stay with me and everything will be fine. Most Archor forums do not like outsiders, and this one is especially strict about that ruling…”

I watched “John” plug into a small hole next to the door, I saw some movement, and then there were screams of pain. And then nothing…

A Man in a Warehouse

Posted: September 27, 2011 by luzob in Random
Tags:

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Modern factory-made machete of US Forces issue

Image via Wikipedia

I thought that I was prepared…

I thought that maybe this enclosure would have something promising, or at least some makeshift shelter until the rain let up.

Fucken hell was I wrong.

I found what seemed to be an uninhabited warehouse, and as usual protocol I kept my eyes on the area for a little under an hour.

Should’ve been a little over an hour.

I wouldn’t be all fucked up if I did.

As I am dressing my wounds I will tell you about the two men that decided (luckily) to come at different times to their little abode; right in the middle of me looking for supplies to bring back home and fuck around with. I like to tinker with this and that in my spare time on the weekends. I have to use the weekends for my tinkerings for two reasons:

I am a survivalist.

I am a college professor.

Anyway this place was practically barren, but very open. The only other appearance was little bits of useless debris and dust. I was eyeing a particularly clean spot to set up camp when I hear it.

Y’know those doors with the weird gears that lifts up as one big sheet? I think it’s called a bay door or some shit. The metallically loud report of someone saying “hello there”…

I thought it would’ve been one of the many MANY security guards I usually come across.

Hell I even know most of the local rent-a-cops by name, and as a joke they may point a club and say to the effect of “C’mon Elton, I told you to keep away from here after hours, or at least to not get caught” and I would be on my merry way.

This man was not one of them.

Wielding one of those collapsable metal batons usually found on gangsters…

or people like me.

You can always tell when someone will actually use a weapon against you when they happen to not be very flashy about it. He didn’t Kung-Fu it around, or even point it in my direction.

Right at his side, fully extended, and ready to knock me something fucked.

Well I knew there was only two viable entrances, and only one was available to me.

That was about two feet from Mr. Baton.

I admit, I hesitated, calling out “I’m sorry, I was just trying to find a place to wait the rain out.”

That was when he flashed a smile that only means I will have to be ready for some shit.

“Son of a bitch” was all I could get out before he charged toward me.

That and my trustworthy machete.

It has a name, but I’m not telling you.

I got a shot toward him before he could, but he was a quick bastard, and he soon realized I was as well.

Despite the B.O.B. on my back.

Another, more calculated blow met his chest, and I could tell that it counted.

I knocked the air from the asshole’s body, and went to knock him another one but he had the impulse to roll away from me and attack.

Motherfucker do you know who you are fucking with?

That one landed but the adrenaline was already flowing through my circulatory system.

Or endocrine, whatever.

Anyway I got him yet again in the chest.

I liked the audible crack and the sound of his strained breaths.

I could make it from here alive.

Another heavy chop to his core and he went down, sputtering viscera from his chest and mouth.

As I was ready to loot his still corpse I heard a familiar sound of chain on gear, and realized the bay door was being closed.

A man stood there.

A big man, looking a bit more menacing then a mere thug or thief, and extracting something from his jacket.

Brass knuckles?

What the fuck are you, some Mafia-style beat-em-up fucker?

I called out to the monster “I’m just a college teacher, I never wanted to hurt anyone! Please just leave me alone!”

His reply?

“I don’t give two FUCKS about you, but my buddy is dead and you’ll be next!”

Diplomacy was going nowhere here…

Exhausted from my last confrontation, I allowed the burly man to make the first move. While about as smart as his “buddy,” he gave me the perfect opening as he charged. I thought I could’ve had him as my blade struck true.

…directly into the padding of his jacket. I would be paying for that mistake.

Soon my head felt around somewhere between here and Cambodia as that meat-paw-with-brass waylaid me. I felt every bit of my body want to seize up and fail me right then and there.

The rest was programed suvival tactics…

bullshit… I dug my heels into the ground and tried running off. This wasn’t going to stop him so I decided that heaving something toward him would at least give him hesitation.

What to throw… not my machete… hell no… So I tossed the only other thing I had on me.

…My pack landed by his feet, landing with a thud straight to the ground.

I wish I took those backpack-flinging lessons… but they don’t exist.

What happened next was somewhere between the most luck I’ve yet to have, and divine intervention.

The big fuck bulled himself toward me, and conveniently forgot about my pack and tripped himself, falling flat on my face. I had to take the opportunity, as anyone would, right?

With the savagery of a wild demon I swung at him with all I had as he got to his knees.

I’ve never been a person who fights.

I am not in the military, nor in a gang or anything like that.

I am a fucking educator.

With that hit you would’ve thought I was a trained assassin.

I felt the blade bounce off of the back of his dense skull, something completely unexpected on my part.

It’s funny the thing your mind thinks of during the strangest events. The first thing I thought of was the fact that I would probably need to buy a new machete, because I wouldn’t be able to pull it from his cranium. Strangely enough in my panic I spine-hit him (with the back of the blade) which knocked him out cold.

Either that or the cement that met his head afterward. Either way he was done, breathing faintly but still surviving my hellish attack.

I contemplated leaving him there, because two deaths on my hands would look less like self-defense and more of murder.

What was I to do with this lumbering satan-beast?

Then the adenaline bitched out on me. The pain that was a deluge of hatred in my veins was the only answer I needed.

I felt his fading pulse through my weapon, and quickly (before a guy with a shotgun or flame-thrower decided to say hello) picked up my bag and screamed out of there.

Fucked if I ever go to that area again. Now I’m here, still trying to figure out all that is broken/lascerated/generally damaged within my person.

More on this later, but for now I’m off to find a place much safer.

Elton Livingston, signing off.

 

Beeble-bip-bip canda…

Posted: September 22, 2011 by luzob in Random
Tags: ,

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So it’s official, AYCOoB is green.

I’ve read through every back entry on the subject once again, and my how far we’ve come.

In the beginning I was just known as Bear.

In the beginning Fisch couldn’t spell for shit.

But we’re here now, and our first run was a decent success, if I say so myself.

Now for the details Mr. Fail can make his own post (I know he’ll want to) but honestly I just wanted to announce my happiness for the moment.

More on this later, I just wanted to see a positive post on here.

AYCOoB: Something bad has happened… Part 1.

Posted: September 19, 2011 by fischfail in Gaming, Nerd
Tags: , ,

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Transparentised version of Image:Gluehlampe 01...

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So, its been a few weeks since I last saw Kara. She told me she had a hunch, an idea, a gut-feeling if you will, and she wanted to check it out. I, of course, happily offered my assistance. She simply smiled at me and replied with “Nope, your mission here is too important to abandon… If you need to leave, make a message using our system of secure communication. I will find you when I am done.” and then she was leaving.

I didn’t try to stop her, that’s not my role in life. It is…was Gizmo’s job.

I hope she’s okay… I think I am starting to love her, if that’s even possible out here.

She left at night, which was a little strange, but I trusted her, and I believe that we will be reunited. At least, I hope we will.

That night, I packed my current project away, secured the building after she left, enabled the motion detector (probably the best creation Gizmo ever made, I don’t know how many times that simple fucking device saved us), and went to sleep. But before I go any further, let me describe the motion detector.

It’s a simple device really, and we have several that still work. It is a little battery powered box, about 4 inches by 4 inches, and roughly an inch thick.  There are two little wire connectors in the back. According to the package, the internal batteries are supposed to last a year, at least. We average about two weeks. Gizmo had discovered that when two wires are connected to the back of this device, it provides some power to the item at the other end, say a light bulb or detonator. Pretty cool stuff.

Before Gizmo was murdered, he made us two different models, one that connected to a primitive detonator and the other to an alarm or light. My personal favorite method is the light bulb.

In the morning, I unpacked everything. Generally the projects we work on are meant for us, to help us survive. This particular project was meant for someone else: The Topledo…

I was working for about an hour when the light sitting next to me began to shine. Something or someone was in the safe house, I began stuffing everything back in its home. I pulled on my helmet: a thermal scan showed something strange, a signature that was both cool and hot. Then something terrible happened, he looked directly at me. At least it seems like he was looking at me. The thing was actually staring at the ceiling two stories below. The motion detector seemed to die out, and my helmet started glitching: it had to have. The thing below just disappeared. I pulled the fucking helmet off. I stood motionless behind some metal crates, my rifle raised, focused on that door. I was ready for whomever was coming through that fucker.

Whatever it was in the building made it to the third floor landing faster than anyone should have been able to. I could hear a slight “whirring” noise from just outside the door. Whatever was out there had working electronics, and I wanted them.

The next thing I knew, the room was filling with smoke and I felt dizzy. I remember falling to the ground and getting tired. I have no idea how long I was out.

When I came to, the first thing I noticed was that my mask had been pulled off, and I was tied up. No matter how hard I tried, there was no escaping my bonds. I heard that whirring noise again, it was close. I was able to turn my head just enough to see what I assumed to be an Archor. Sure I had heard of them, but I always thought they were myths. And here was one going through my equipment.

But I was still alive, it was still here, and from what I could tell so was all my stuff.

Almost immediately, it spun around and looked at me. This big hulking half-machine, half-man monster. It wore a cloak thankfully, and the hood was pulled far enough forward that I couldn’t make out any details. After a moment, it spoke.

“Hello, Mr. ‘Seven,’ my name is CDQ544386, however you may call me…….” there was a long pause, “John. I am of the VDR Shelter, although that doesn’t matter. Sorry about knocking you out, but it was the only way to assure your personal safety. I believe you know somebody named ‘Kara’?”

It didn’t wait for a response. “Of course you do, no sense in answering trivial questions. Either way, I know where she is, she sent me to retrieve you. Something bad has happened to her… If you would like, I could take you to her.”

“Is she still alive?”

“Yes, she is, in fact, she is better than ever. I take it, you want to go meet her?” He walked over to me, and helped me up. Within seconds I was untied. “I noticed you were working on improvised explosive devices. However the fuel source was of poor mixture.. I fixed that for you, it now has more of…. a kick. I also modified your gun, it now has an infrared thermal scope and infrared laser. The laser is set to be accurate to 1/10th of a millimeter. I hope that makes up for the sleeping gas. Now if you will gather the rest of your things, we will be on our way… Also, make sure you’re wearing your helmet. It works just as it did before, it never malfunctioned, I was jamming the signal…” He reached inside his bag, and pulled out a cloak, and handed it me. “Put this on as well.”

After a few moments, I was geared up.

AYCOoB: The Storm

Posted: September 11, 2011 by fischfail in Entertainment, Gaming
Tags: , ,

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animal

Image by davedehetre via Flickr

How the fuck could we have been so stupid? Did the thought of having a “home” again cloud our judgment that much? Or was it clouded by the fact that we had meat again? Was it a combination of the two factors that caused us to forget everything we knew and make the worst mistake we could?

Let me go back a little bit, and describe our situation…

Judging from the suns position and the mount of dust in the air, it was early afternoon: a time when no one leaves their safe havens. Which means we were safer, and we wouldn’t attract unwanted attention to ourselves. Everyone who travels during the daylight hours basically wears the same shit: a good pair of boots, long pants, long shirt, jacket of some sort, some sort of head covering, sunglasses, hidden armor, and a backpack. It was fucking hot, but a necessity. I made the mistake of walking outside one without the head covering and glasses. At ten minutes, my scalp was burned and blistered, I might as well have stuck it in a keg of boiling oil, and there was so much sand in my eyes that I couldn’t see probably for days. I was lucky I had survived.

We were raiding a nearby store, one that until recently still operated…

I was in the back with “Gizmo,” a man whose sole purpose in life was to find random, cool shit that could later be traded for other random shit. We were looking through a box when we noticed it in the corner. A rather large deer, if you could call it that anymore. The damn animals had all mutated so much in this fucking wasteland that half of them were no longer safe to eat.

This one was probably no different, but it was meat, and if one of us got sick for a few days, then so be it. It looked delicious. “Gizmo” and  I slowly walked towards the thing, it was asleep and half dead looking, we would be doing it favor, really. “Gizmo’s” crowbar was still in hand, it never really left that spot. He shifted it slightly, grasping it with a two handed approach, and lifting it above his head, he brought the prying end down.

The blood was slightly off in color and smelled dusty, the brains oozed. We had dinner. We prepared it right there, “Gizmo” and I hoisting the damn thing up near the loading dock. I won’t go into details, but our “nice” color neutral, sun bleaching clothing slowly turned reddish / brown.

After a short while, “Gizmo” and I return to the front of the store with a nice haul of medications, food, some real water, some interesting shit to trade down the road, and one dead deer. It was going to be a good week.

The five of us manage to get everything back to our little hellish corner of the world. We re-secured our stronghold, and decided it was time to eat. Like our first full fucking meal in a long time.

The Skag

By the time the food started becoming safe to eat, it was nightfall. We could hear the groaning and shuffling of wandering Skag outside, I wish I could say they were zombies. In all honesty, I would probably feel safer with real zombies than those fucking Skag pieces of shit.

Before long, the noises they made became a chorus, the could smell us and our meat, and of course they were outside, it was nighttime, they were useful. Fucking mutations.

They couldn’t get in though, that place was too secure for a bunch of Skag to break in. We started to eat. I’m thankful we were able to start eating when we did. Our first real meal in a long time will also be our last meal ever…

The Skag became a chorus, “Gizmo” reported the building was completely surrounded by the bastards, now all we could do was wait for daylight.

Then we heard a truly terrifying sound, a truck… And either all the people in it were shooting large machine guns, or the damn things was covered in guns.

Within minutes the Skag were all dead, at least those ones. We had just been saved, however our salvation would not last.

The truck revved its engine, there was a crash, the building shook. After a few more assaults on OUR building, a wall on the first floor came crashing down, we were done…

Of course, they quickly found us. Their clothing and the tattoo on the back of their hand gave them away, these were Topledo enforcers… We were not going to live to see the morning.  The fucking Skag have killed us… Go figure.

We were rounded up, stripped of cloth and kit, bound by the hands, and dragging down the stairs to the devilish “Urban” Assault Vehicle. We drove for hours, even had we wanted to sleep, it would have been impossible for the poking, the prodding, and the beating. As bad as “Gizmo,” “Mags,” and I had it, “Kara,” and “Baby Doll” had it worse. Not only did they receive the pokes, prods, and beatings, they were also repeatedly groped, abused, and molested. I actually began to hope for a quick death.

The truck finally stopped, and the back slowly lowered, we were in a field, and it was daylight. I don’t have to tell you how bad the situation has gotten. We were all untied, and given a shovel and very specific instructions. Being pushed out of the truck, and stumbling to the ground below, we could already feel ourselves burning.

After a few minutes we were all covered in blisters and starting to bleed. The pain was excruciating. They knew we would never make it until the holes were actually dug. We could hear them placing bets on who would drop first, and how long they would last. I was surprised when I heard “15 minutes called out,” it was immediately followed by laughter.

There was no salvation to be found when clouds “covered” the sun. It was going to rain. And even with the best gear, you did not venture into the rain. I felt the first drop land on my back, it instantly burned, peeling the flesh as it trailed down my spine. We were not going to last long, and our chance of survival was dropping by the second.

The rain starting coming harder, we were almost thankful when the sun started coming back out. That is, until we realized that not only was the sun shining on our skin, but it was still raining. I maybe had a one foot deep hole dug when “Baby Doll” dropped to her knees.

She never got back up. “Gizmo” and “Mags” fell to their knees at the same time. Our skin was starting to crack and bleed, we were basically one giant blister. I could smell my skin burning, I felt sick to my stomach.

“Kara” doubled over and threw up, it looked and smelled like death. I feel to my knees, struggling to get back up, deciding we were dead or just not wanting to risk further damage to themselves and their vehicle., the UAV starts to pull away. Once they are out of sight, “Kara” and I painfully using each other and our shovels, we make our way towards the woods. Finding protection from the sun at last.

UAV with hatch closed.

A little inside the woods, we find another mutated deer. The sun and rain have killed the damn thing…

We need some cloths and food… I’m not proud of how we made it back to the city, but we did, we shouldn’t have been able to live months in the wild without protection, maybe it was “God’s way.”

“Kara” has never been the same, and neither of us ever go anyway without full coverage. Hell it would be a horror show if there ever was one

If it is the last thing we do, we will avenge “Gizmo”, “Mags,” and “Baby Doll…” The Topledo will die…

AYCOoB: The Flood

Posted: July 28, 2011 by fischfail in Gaming
Tags: , ,

Flooding

Image by echobase_2000 via Flickr

The following is a rough draft that has been sitting in a folder on my desktop for months now. I haven’t read it since writing it, and it is quite likely very rough. But I wanted you guys to see it, to see something, just so you all remember the stories of “And You Climb Out of Bed.”

You were starting to develop cabin fever, the building that you have made your home, no longer has an actual roof. It has a fifth floor, with four walls, and a ceiling. A staircase leads upwards. At the top are four standing walls with no ceiling, just sky. When you first got here, you spent nights patching the hole in the floor, creating a makeshift roof.

It hadn’t rained in months, even the cesspools; the areas no one ventured too near where drying up. If that’s what you could call it. What was really happening is they were getting shallower, somehow getting brighter and developing an even fouler stench. They became deadlier with every millimeter of real water that actually evaporated. Even though you could no longer walk around freely in the rain, it was still a pleasant gift to have. It meant the possibility of water that is able to be filtered and thus drank or cooked with.

Generally, that wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, you can even pass fairly close to many of them without any real effects, other than an upset stomach. However, this was one different, it had already been highly acidic, and eating away the “roof” of the building you now call your “home.” If something didn’t change soon, the integrity of it would give away and the resounding force of the collapse would take the upper floors with it. This would continue until the entire building collapsed.

It had already started leaking, and if it couldn’t be patched soon, you would have to venture out into the city to find a new home. Hopefully, there would be a building nearby that wasn’t already inhabited by Rakers, Skag, or To-Once. There had already been too many fights with those disgusting creatures, could you actually call them that anymore.

And then something changed, the air grew cooler, and there was a strange liquid noise, trickling above your head. Another hole in the ceiling… At least everything is already packed away, making it possible to leave in half a second’s notice. There is only one thing left to do. You remove the crowbar from your shoulder-rig. It’s time to start pulling the boards off the door, the same boards you pilfered from the floor of the third level so long ago.. It’s time to leave.

It’s too dry; it has been for too long. There is no saving those boards, pulling them away cleanly for future use is out of the question. Just as the first one snaps in two, you realize something.

The leaking noise you heard, the sound you were certain was coming from the roof, is actually coming from outside. It couldn’t possibly be rain. It has to be the wind kicking up more dust and playing tricks on your mind.

You stop removing the boards long enough to pull on your jacket’s hood, the goggles you generally keep on the top of your head, and the scarf to cover your mouth. It’s unfortunate this system blocks your periphery, your one defense against some would-be attackers, but it also protects you from that damned sun: that hot, burning, ball of hatred that seems to loom in the same place all hours of the day.

You get back to work “removing” the boards, those tiny scraps of hope to keep intruders out. As the next one comes away with a crack and a shower of splinters, one of them sticks to your gloved hand, you try to ignore it but there is something strange about it. Something is off.

The next to be removed would actually allow you to see outside, this is it: time to see how bad this sand storm actually is. But, there is something different about this board; the nails do not want to budge. And instead of the wood splintering, it bends.  As you try to pry the piece of wood away, your fingertips get a slight burning sensation. This is a fine piece indeed, one that you might be able to keep. The heat sensation is purely a combination of the sun-baked timber causing warmth and the over-use of muscles long ignored, left to deteriorate.

The burning intensifies, causing you to pull your hands away in shock and pain. Why won’t this fucking board come free? You flex the stiff muscles of your fingers. You feel something is off, the gloves that have protected your hands for so long feel thinner; incomplete. The burning sensation increases to pure pain, you smell sulfur, you smell… Burning flesh.

You look down, where gloves once existed, protecting your palms, is now raw bleeding, cracked flesh. You grab your crowbar once more, and with strength that you haven’t exhibited in months, rip the board from its location on the door frame.

It is wet. No, more than that, it is soaked. You look outside; it is a downpour, the proverbial storm of the century. This might be worse than the drought.

You leap away from the now open door, praying that such a strong rainfall is end as abruptly as it started. Acidic, toxic poison falling from the sky, your poor roof will never make it through this punishment.

And if it gives, neither are you.

Over the next few hours, you watch the streets flood. It is starting to seep in through the door way. It is time to retreat up the stairs. The second floor is safe, for now. You drift off to sleep, hoping that when you next awaken, the rain will have stopped.

Instead when you awaken, you still hear a slight raining noise. You walk down the stairs and realize the water is now a foot high. The last step completely submerged. What else is there to do, but wait it out, you cannot walk through it, but the time you got to the door, you would be walking on stumps.

You undo your pants and piss down the stairs; you chuckle as you consider it might actually reduce the acidity. As you re-do your zipper, you have a terrifying thought.  The roof!

Running up the stairs, two at a time, you reach the fifth floor in no time. Glowing green puddles are starting to form on the floor. “God, if you are still there, please, let me get out of this?” You hear thunder in the distance. It seems to actually be getting worse outside.

The next day, the third step is covered with water. Just to make sure, you attach an old shoe to a chain, and throw it in the growing lake on the first floor. Within seconds, it is a smoldering piece of useless goop.

You hear creaking from the roof. The end is near.

The creaking transforms into groans, the groans into grinding, grinding into cracking, and finally cracking into an explosive wet noise, until finally you notice the noises getting closer, this is is, this is the end.

You turn around in time to see a torrent of putrid water bringing bricks, steel beams, and disease with it. You are hit by a wall; you instinctively open your mouth, flooding it, your lungs, and your stomach with the deathly water. There is no salvation now, there is no God left.

As you get carried down the stairs into the lake below, your last words are replaced with a gurgling noise.

Less than an hour later, the rain stops, and the ground slowly soaks the water up. The building you once called your home, collapses providing you with the ultimate tomb-like memorial. No one will ever be able to loot your body.


I just came to a harsh realization, I am an angry 80-year man. Seriously, I now take more pills in one sitting than hours I spend sitting at the computer. And the worst part about all of that is…

There are more coming!

So, anyways, check this mess out. This is some of pills I just poured down my throat as part of my daily regimen.

Pills here!

Eh, you guys know the joke by now.

Also, why is every thing that was recommended to me for this article about video games? You damn whipper-snappers need to discover some new words, and start respecting those of your father!

Speaking of gaming, there should be some AYCOoB stuff posted very shortly, I know Eldwardo and Luz are both yelling at me about getting more posted. It is coming soon, I promise.