(09-12-2016, 09:49 PM)Gatr Wrote: »Gatr's muscled body looked across the cosmos. All the fighting... it all seemed so pointless. A single manly tear shed forth from his sexy reptilian eyes. It fell onto his pectorals and they twitched a little, sending small shockwaves across the universe. They were just enough to bring everyone's attention towards him. Still floating in midspace, he flexed one arm. Several planets exploded, then the dust and debris coalesced into a new planet. The planet had abs. He flexed the other arm. An entire sun collapsed into a black hole, then out of it came two legs that were darker than pure black and also very buff. They attached to the planet, then the planet did a pelvic thrust, sending cracks across the realm of reality, and killing several trillion life forms. Then Gatr winked. The life returned to their corpses just long enough for them to look upon Gatr's majestic form. They then died from the sight, big bad included.

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Spoileri'm so sorry

(09-12-2016, 08:47 PM)Reyweld Wrote: »guys we destroyed the big bad the game's over

(09-12-2016, 09:54 PM)Sruixan Wrote: »I'm honestly a little hazy on the objective here; are we destroying the Big Bad, or are we destroying TrickleJest?

(09-13-2016, 02:32 AM)btp Wrote: »This place is mental. Really far too gone. Do you seek refuge?

I invite the big bad and trickle to play canasta. The cards are set up inside the animal shelter.

Charge 5.

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Spoilerattack next turn

(09-12-2016, 05:01 PM)bigro Wrote: »Jupiter gets bigger.

Charge 2

(09-12-2016, 05:09 PM)Kíeros Wrote: »Five
    Dreams


  Many depths of accustomed
Workings controlled when dreams single electric life do touch
Assessing expression, future affection, ways yesterday
  O, to yesterday
The day, a way, flying through someone
  Controlled my reigning

  Accepting evenings knowledge, a shout
To a revelation laid endings, talks by a flower
No yesterdays, heart faster alternate
  Mutant leaves creativity
Of clay, understand doors reigning silhouette our skylines
  A stone

  Expression - a children's - and being
Discoursing in lands, not put movement
Of hate - all expression creativity
  The queen, those
Thousand answers sights done, understood, to mean changed
  Love daughters

  Memory come between all my antics
Did splendour I tell, a confusion endlessly?
We quickly as turned understood
  Seed on turned
Mountains flowering of my sunrise, forgotten valley
  Reasons together

  Oh, all hands when highest
Touching a future way there's thunderous oppression
Straining and work, a spirit's
  To a winter
Will I be, I regaining, returning, to this woman?
  Outbound corner

  Not I, apart yesterdays
You controlled my relayers, runner. I remember
My endlessly quickly soft mover
  Night, night, deliver
Proportion spread running down forgotten coloured day rebounds
  Watch loneliness

  Arose ways satisfied from round
Thoughts consider touch preacher nailed daughters, as turned
Political regaining clear flower expressed
  Understand rearrange, we dancing
We a foundation, morning, endlessly morning, while
  Encounters searching

  Not understand, my awakening
Hurry shoot out to transformed mutant
Enemy son, when here dislocate
  Recorded chasers to battleship
In charger white begun returning moment loneliness
  Is not seemed

  From relayer's silhouette charge
Liquid sweet girl disregard, conceived topographic endlessly
Strength mornings I consider the good; highest
  Splendour reasons silence
Watch one space season glider, I'll awaken
  Regaining together

  Silhouette amongst them, to lights
Stand more to stare, as watched begotten
There's to begin solid, I remember
  A madrigal; tell a marcher,
Touch wonder's hand, there's running my eclipses
  Somewhere accustomed

Returning,
  Awakens
    Awakens
      Awakens
        Awakens
To stories wonderous

Charge 5
Don't worry, only nine more sections to go.

(09-12-2016, 05:55 PM)Kaynato Wrote: »It's important to order the city around, I think to myself. Yes - to slide the cities around and make sure houses are crushed properly.

Unfortunately, there were reports of some occlusion in its network of streets - something hideous, something abhorrent was wandering in this place.

No matter! When the clouds align, the answers will be revealed... Or so I thought.

A sound came from the door, interrupting the clouds' alignment. How rude!

I stood up from my bench, and fragmented apart into five gremlins. They would know how to deal with this.

But then the door knocked inwards, and transformed into a pile of burnt corn.

A twisted agglomeration had come, chittering relentlessly with its rows of burnished teeth, gnashing and gnawing at its own grotesquely ingrown protuberances.

A ring of five hands erupted from what must have once been its head, now putrefactive and pustule-like, drooping with dripping droplets of viscous ooze and swarming with spiraling processions of particulate insects, and pried apart what remained of the door-frame as well.

"BUS FARE. GIVE ME BUS FARE."

I realized that I had made a mistake.

Last time I rode the bus, I forgot to pay.

[Change 5]

(09-12-2016, 07:00 PM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »On this particular occasion I was sitting in a dentist's waiting room, thumbing idly through a Highlights magazine and interrogating the moral absolutes of Goofus and Gallant. Formally, it necessarily posits a world where morality is wholly divorced from consequence and intention, and instead comes from on high. It is wrong to color your walls with crayon, yes, even if you like it better that way. Even if it hurts nobody. You must help clean the house to spotless before guests arrive. No, it is not as if they will somehow think you've never made a mess. After all, the guests live in homes too, which also need cleaned when you are invited over there — the thought of simply living completely tidy in the first place is simply too preposterous for the panels to hold. For that matter, so is the thought of simply dispensing with the pretext (which everybody knows to be artificial) altogether. This pretext, manners, was then made synonymous with good behavior, with goodness itself, even though a man can smile and smile and shake hands and still have a heart of coal. Maybe that's who these comics were for: emotionless alien invaders who had to assimilate to human culture, to be more flawless than the actual people around them. Certainly, nobody I had ever met seemed to particularly care if anybody's shirt was tucked in or not. It was hard to even imagine someone so judgemental.

I was one motherfucking precocious 12-year-old. Maybe it's that I wasn't raised Christian, or maybe it's that I was on the cusp of adolescence and tired of feeling bossed around, talked down to, even though I absolutely deserved it and needed it. I was never ill-behaved — no, I can't say that with the temper I used to have. I was never rebellious for the sake of it. My idea of rebellion was cutting across the grass instead of taking the circuitous sidewalk route everyone else took, because it was a shorter, more efficient distance. As I grew older, I grew to see the artificial pretexts of the world as, though phony, valuable; the very foundation of society, as George Costanza might point out. Artificial pretexts, I would conclude, is all there is to human life.

The dentist asked me how often I brushed my teeth. "Never," I said. I grinned, but who knows for how long?

Charge: 1