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+--- Thread: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel & Resort (/showthread.php?tid=7167)
The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel & Resort - Ixcaliber - 04-23-2026
On an endless plane, divorced from both time and space The Oddball continued its ceaseless repetitions of empty gestures and empty patterns. The Oddball was perhaps the least of all of the Hosts. It was a matter of some contention whether it was sentient or whether it was a broken simulacrum of consciousness. It had once described itself as "a conglomeration of self and not-self looping, stringing, through the planes; an empty plurality made manifest". But nobody had been around to hear it describe itself as thus.
Physically it was an enormous orange billiard ball with a large number 5, a fez and a multicoloured scarf wrapped tightly around itself. This shape was perhaps the only constant reliable aspect of itself, and even that seemed entirely arbitrary; worn only due to the fact that to exist in physical space you must have a physical form.
There was no time here in this pocket of unreality, but it would not be entirely inaccurate to say that it had been doing its current activity forever. Step one: Hear about the existence of other Big Fights. Step two: Find eight entities. Step three: Bring them here and tell them they are now in a fight to the death. Step four: Throw them off into a universe somewhere. Step five: Go back to step one. Each cycle a discrete Mondo Ruction occurring somewhere out in the infinite probability space of the universe, and yet as it repeated and repeated, somehow even the infinite began to become full. Reality itself was beginning to twist and buckle under the strain. Time passed inconsistently. A creeping sense of artificiality seeped across dimensions, souring even worlds that managed to avoid The Oddball's attention.
It was beginning to be a problem.
It is impossible to say whether The Oddball understood the consequences of its actions. It did not seem to perceive the perpetually expanding sour possibility space it sat at the centre of. It certainly was not keeping abreast of its many purposeless conflicts it had initiated. If it had such a thing as a self it seemed only interested in creating hollow instantly discardable simulacra of the works of those more purposeful than itself. There was no acknowledgement of how the strings of existence strained and broke by its ceaseless hand.
As always a selection of eight entities snatched up from throughout the whole of probability space stood in a rough circle looking at one another. They were held in place by the most powerful force in the known universe: narrative obligation. They stared at the billiard ball, perhaps one of nature's most incongruous shapes.
"We have taken you for a battle to the death." It said, though it might be more accurate to say that all the sounds that made up that sentence had just coincidentally have happened (causeless) in a coincidental sequence that made it almost sound like a sentence. It was unnervingly both intentional and unintentional and it made the contestants' skin crawl (such as those of them that had skin).
In lieu of any actual introduction, the contestants find information shunted scattershot into their minds, random haphazard facts about those who stood around them.
The Ovipath, the creature from the vibeplane, the squirming constantly reforming mass that crystallizes and reshapes itself in response to perception from sentient beings. It is a perception fish seated on a separate layer of reality that would normally only perceive the standard dimensions of human experience as a footprint beneath its actual self. To have its perceptions squashed down to inhabit only those human dimensions is as disorientating as it is insulting.
Its true form (the self that exists on that higher level) is perhaps impossible to describe in terms that map to the human understanding of physicality but let's say all of its limbs are worms and allow ourselves to stop thinking of the Ovipath for now.
Grey, the living supreme paragon of motorcycability. The shining ideal that all motorbikes were built to try to capture. She is the platonic ideal of the Motorcycle. She is freedom. She is wonder. She is all glistening cylinders of metal and the wind in your hair. To see her is to fall in love with the horizon. Humans have tried again and again to build her in effigy and every motorcycle that exists is a pale imitation to her glossy curves and perfect angles. She is beautiful and if it would be so easy to dedicate your life to her, just one slip and you're hers forever.
PROC13372, a procedure rod. A strange shimmering skyfish, propelled by undulating fins. They shine in a whole rainbow of greys. Procedure rods are a common sight in the heart of the plane of order, where they exist as living conduits for Law itself. This strict adherence to the universal force of order flows through them; a living thrumming heritage passed down through the generations from a time when Law was a physical entity that walked among them.
PROC13372 is what would be considered a heretic, one who would use the otherworldly force of Obligation to twist the force of Law into a tool that can be used to control others. Obligation trails from their body like rotting red algae.
The Sparxle Chicks - Mariposa, Melinda, Magenta, Marissa and Magnolia. A girl band from downtown New Town.
Best TV Magazine Wrote:New Sparxle Adventures S05E01 - A Pet Shop To Remember - Saturday 5PM only on Veepo. The Sparxle Chicks return for a new season of New Sparxle Adventures. Following the destruction of their used record store at the end of the last season, how will the girls support themselves, and each other, in this time of crisis, and will they ever get that recording deal with Megaplex Records?
New Sparxle Adventures S05E02 - The Manor, The Meet-Cute and the Monarch - Sunday 5PM only on Veepo. Magenta and Melinda stay overnight at Aunt Mildred's so called haunted mansion. Mariposa meets a cute new girl when she volunteers at the local hospital. Marissa and Magnolia recover the Emperor's Blade with Magnolia's ex Michaela, but will the allure of the blade tear the girls apart?
Stringbox - Dragon Of The Strands. She is not a traditional dragon in shape or form, resembling much more a frankly gargantuan heap of knotted string and rope, at least a mile high and several miles wide. She slithers, her body too big to move entirely in unison. Entire bunches of strands gyrate and pulse out of sync with the enormous mass of bounded twine. She entangles all that she comes into contact with and binds it within her bulk, making it a part of her living treasure horde.
The Saint of Ideas. They were born as the physical manifestation of the Last Angel's Final Thoughts, and that is a heavy mantle to bear. They are a sort of de facto messiah, a being whose duty is to be present and be the living spark of inspiration for a doomed society to help save themselves from their inevitable end. They appear as a glowing dark green humanoid silhouette with the distinctive shape of a twin tube light bulb instead of a head. Somehow, right now, despite the immobilisation The Oddball has enforced upon them, they cheerily preach to the other contestants about the virtues of mindfulness.
Gobbie is a Gabbo, a little brown fuzzy ball of hair with enormous eyes. She is a descendant of Gobrick, one of the original companions of Cruc; their species mythic hero. When their world collided with the Idworld the Gabbos were captured and put to work by the evil capitalistic Glikkons. For years the Gabbos hoped for the return of their hero to rescue them from this new enemy and yet he did not appear. While others maintained their faith Gobbie took matters into her own hands, shaping herself to become the hero the Gabbos needed. Gobbie may only be a small brown ball of fur, but she is remarkably strong and unnervingly fast. And she bites.
Faraxetty Strigantonio is an artificial man. He is a straw man in an old black suit embodying a kind of unsettling emptiness. On the old burlap sack that is his head is drawn a simple friendly face, but even this friendly approachable visage cannot mask his unsettling nature. He moves with a stiffness and a hollowness. It is important to know that he is a referent yet to be coupled with a signifier, his true nature yet to be solidified. He can be whatever you need him to be, so long as you don't necessarily need to trust him.
They are shown each other to each other and they are given the boilerplate speech of why they are here. Seven rounds, seven locations, killing one another until there is only one left. It falls out of The Oddball's mouth as though it means something, as though it isn't a creeping rot out-populating thought.
Reality ripples around them and Round One begins. They are in the Love Hotel. A tourist destination situated within the thoughtrealm of Love, a physical plane of intoxicating, overwhelming love. It is a sickening sensation, like being submerged in emotional treacle, one that can with time warp and twist the very fabric of a person in unexpected ways.
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel - Ixcaliber - 07-12-2026
The lobby of The Crystal Rose Hotel was in some ways extremely sparse and in other ways extremely busy. There were no guests, other than the five girls who suddenly found themselves standing within it, no seats or tables or any furniture other than the reception desk really. A thin pink mist permeated everything, not diminishing visibility but forcing anyone present to view it through a rose coloured haze.
The walls were a deep red and almost entirely covered with erotic paintings ranging from tasteful to highly explicit. The floor was tiled in various shades of purple, and strangely soft and yielding underfoot. Scattered at random throughout the lobby were standing signs with depictions of various behaviours and red crosses through them. They read:
Do not proposition the hotel staff.
While on hotel grounds do not touch any other person except within your suite.
While on hotel grounds do not sit or lie on the floor anywhere other than within your suite.
While on hotel grounds do not remove any clothing anywhere other than your suite.
Public decency laws are in effect within the grounds of the Crystal Rose Hotel. If you cannot control yourself report to Quarantine to be held until the next Planar Alignment.
While on hotel grounds do not touch any other person except within your suite.
While on hotel grounds do not sit or lie on the floor anywhere other than within your suite.
While on hotel grounds do not remove any clothing anywhere other than your suite.
Public decency laws are in effect within the grounds of the Crystal Rose Hotel. If you cannot control yourself report to Quarantine to be held until the next Planar Alignment.
The Sparxles took a moment to take in their new environment and then they all started talking over each other, panic evident in their voices.
“Girls. Girls.” Mariposa tried to get their attention for a minute before firmly honking her nose and her airhorn until the rest of the group quieted and turned to their leader. “I know this looks bad, but we’ve been in way worse scrapes than this. Remember when Dracula tried to take over New Town?” There was a murmured agreement from the group and she continued. “If we stick together I know there’s nothing we can’t handle.”
Mariposa was wearing worn combat fatigues, whose camouflage was all colours of the rainbow and designed to resemble many simple shapes such as flowers, stars and custard pies. Her curly green hair was worn down beneath a bright pink combat helmet adorned with a wreath of yellow and purple daisies. She wore a blue and yellow striped assault squirt rifle across her back. Her face was painted white and crisscrossed with exaggerated fake scars in vibrant red and a big wide red grin around her lips, which were set in a serious expression. Though she preferred to be making people laugh her combat training did come in handy in the many emergencies and adventures that the Sparxle Chicks seemed to end up in and she had earned her place as the de facto leader.
“I hate to say it girls but I think we might be behind the 8-ball this time, so to speak.” Marissa said, taking a drag from the ratty cigarette normally kept tucked in the lip of her fedora.
“Don’t be ridiculous Riss.” Magnolia replies, clutching one of her favourite crystals. “Let’s not give up before we’ve even tried to fight back.”
“Let’s keep it simple for the moment.” Melinda says. “There’s a reception over there.” She gestured at a desk topped with a huge plastic window, behind which the shape of a figure in a full hazmat outfit sat indifferently. “Why don’t one of you girls go over and check it out and I’ll see if I can get a signal.” As she spoke she fished a phone out of her pocket, and then began unfolding it, more and more screens and antennas and other unidentifiable bits arranging themselves in a mechanical halo around the device.
Magenta was looking around at the numerous instructional signs and at the figure in the hazmat suit behind their perspex window. “Didn’t the big ball thing say this place was intoxicating? I’m not really feeling anything other than nervous panic at the moment.” Her psymon Stawks rubbed its smooth glass body against her leg. As the other Sparxles confirmed they weren’t really feeling the advertised affects of the thoughtrealm of love Magenta gathered Stawks up in her arms and held her close.
“Okay okay.” Mariposa muttered to herself. “Nola, see if there’s anything you can come up with to soothe Maggie. Mel’s doing her thing. Riss you come with me and we’ll see about having a little chat with the receptionist.” She ran her hand over a water pistol holstered at her waist and Marissa nodded as she inconspicuously checked her own.
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel - Ixcaliber - 07-13-2026
The strawman was dumped out in the middle of a large open plaza. It was a bright and lively place or at least it seemed as though it had been at some point. Now the fuschia paint had faded to a dirty peach and though there were many posters and shopfronts the facades were peeling with disrepair. Once carefully cultivated topiaries were growing unkempt, their original shapes (presumably hearts and cherubs and genitalia) were lost, barely discernible only to those who already knew what they were supposed to look like.
Various food and souvenir kiosks were dotted throughout the plaza, with whimsical signs advertising such treats as Cherished Bakewells, Turkish Delighted, Adorable Avocado Float and Kismesis Knickerbocker Glory. Though all were now closed up behind metal shutters. In the distance a theme park with a modest selection of rides, including a single simple rollercoaster, stood silent. There were only three actual buildings visible around the plaza; the largest of which proclaimed itself The Crystal Rose Hotel. There was also the Overflowing Heart Souvenir Shop, and a small building with a much less ostentatious sign reading: Gateway. Beyond these landmarks nothing but pale pink fog in every direction.
Faraxetty climbed to his feet using a nearby metal railing as support. His body moved like a bag of old straw but somehow he managed to find a sort of internal solidity and stand just as a human might. Here in the very center of the plaza he was surrounded by metal railings and flanked by a large wooden sign with a picture of an enormous fuzzy heart-shaped entity and the words:
"Meet LoveMo."
"Get Your Picture Taken With LoveMo."
"Get Your Picture Taken With LoveMo."
and then an additional sign next to that reading:
Love Resort Staff Ask You To Keep Your Interactions With LoveMo Strictly PG13 Thank You.
and hastily scrawled beneath it:
DO NOT TOUCH LOVEMO.
Triple underlined.
Faraxetty looked around groggily, his head lolling to the side and righting itself after every twist of his head. Despite the sign about LoveMo there was no sign of LoveMo. There was no sign of anyone in fact, and this was a fact that disappointed Faraxetty.
Up until recently he had been alone, and by recently I mean that before The Oddball grabbed him up and shoved him into a rough circle with the rest of the combatants he hadn’t seen people before. Their strangeness, their own goals and thoughts and wants had bled into him as he stood suspended there. For the first time Faraxetty felt fear and confusion and curiosity and any emotion other than emptiness. Not necessarily pleasant emotions, but dazzling to Faraxetty after an untold age living in complete emptiness.
And now, in this eerie empty plaza, some new emotion gnawed at him. The dim miasma of love that hung over the resort perhaps soaked deeper into Faraxetty than any of the other combatants due to his deep emptiness. It was an emotion of frissant joy. A longing for and an attachment to which hadn’t yet found themselves something to attach to. Faraxetty glanced once again at the large wooden sign depicting LoveMo.
“I love LoveMo.” he said, trying out the words to see how they sounded. They sounded right and he continued with a growing sense of conviction, “I love LoveMo.”
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel - Ixcaliber - 07-14-2026
The Saint of Ideas found themselves in what might be described as a lavender painted waiting room. There were uncomfortable plastic seats, a table full of magazines, pamphlets and brochures, and a large digital clock on the wall that seemed to be counting down.
The Saint however was thinking about the situation they found themselves in, and the state of their homeworld and what might become of it. They were formed to assist a population dealing with seemingly insurmountable crises, with no projected path to a safe future. Though they had only been alive a short time much of that time had involved meeting with people, discussing the upcoming apocalypses and ways to minimize or stop them all together. They had, by design, become a vital component in how the world navigated unimaginable catastrophe, and now they were here, a million miles away from where they could be of any help to anyone.
Immediately they had two ideas on how to deal with this: 1) win this contest to the death and get back home before they could be missed. 2) maybe it could be possible to invent, or to convince someone to invent, some kind of cross-dimensional communications device so that they could continue to offer advice and suggestions even whilst so drastically physically separated.
“What the fuck are you supposed to be?”
The Saint was snapped out of their pondering by a voice laced with bitterness. They turned to see a woman, humanoid in shape but seemingly composed of pink energy. Around her neck, wrists and ankles were thick black restraints that gave off a shimmering red energy.
“I’m The Saint of Ideas.” The Saint of Ideas said helpfully. “How can I help you?”
It was around about this point that The Saint took another look at their environment and noticed that despite the unassuming air of a waiting room there were heavy bars on the windows, also shimmering with unpleasant red energy, and the single entrance and exit (also barred, also replete with red energy).
The pink energy woman scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Any bright ideas on how to get the fuck out of here then?”
“Well, let’s see…” The Saint didn’t have a mouth with which to smile, but their dark green silhouette shifted briefly to a lighter hue, as they began their deliberations.
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel & Resort - Ixcaliber - 07-18-2026
Gobbie awoke in a large dark room, lit only by the dim glow of a glow in the dark clock, an unfamiliar timekeeping system that communicated exactly nothing to her. Whatever she was stood on was soft and plush and cozy. Gobbie held her blade before her, swishing it in the darkness.
There was a lot running through Gobbie’s head. For the moment all she could do was repeat her prayer to Lady Cruc, wishing for her kindness, her patience and her guidance so that she may soon return to her world, but it wasn’t long before she felt Cruc’s Light move within her, soothing her fears and allowing her to finally consider the situation she was in.
Her reaction to the competition she had been involuntarily placed in is perhaps a little explained by her relative height to every other being that she had been told she would have to kill to return home. She could fit easily in the palm of any one of them, not that most of them seemed to have hands. It’s one thing, already scary, to be placed into a battle to the death and expected to fight other beings for your own survival, it is something else entirely when those opponents are at least five times your size.
Slowly she gathered herself. “Thank you Lady Cruc. I will remember your tireless efforts and rise to your example to whatever I must to protect the Gabbo people.” What would that entail though. She was told that she was here until she killed all of these terrifying strangers, but it didn’t feel like a particularly heroic thing to do. Yet returning home would be to return to her watch, to her protecting of the Gabbos, an unquestionable good. There was no clear path forward that any true hero would deign to take.
And yet like a loose tooth she couldn’t help but consider the possibility of doing what needed to be done. In her most generous estimation gargantuan knotted rope dragon was even if not a ‘bad guy’ per se, some sort of unnatural disaster like a living tornado capable of tearing apart entire Gabbo cities just by accident. There was no accounting for that kind of power. But that said, taking out that thing wouldn’t fix everything, wouldn’t put her back home.
When you’ve got one option and you don’t want to take it, how long can you stand by and do nothing? Oh Lady Cruc. Oh what do I do my Lady? She brought one of her pseudopods to her necklace “What would Lady Cruc do?” she twisted the pieces as she considered.
Her contemplation was cut short as the door opened and a light clicked on. She was in a wood panelled office. There was a computer, a filing cabinet, a large bookcase filled with important looking texts, and on every surfaces there were small photographs, busts, statues and figurines all depicting a scraggly man with a ratty brown fedora and long matted and tangled hair. Most often he seemed to be depicted with a rose held between his lips and surrounded by pink hearts.
The same man was standing in the doorway, his hand frozen on the light switch. Here he was wearing much more casual clothing. A plain shirt, a pink tie patterned with red hearts, torn denim jeans and falling apart sandals. A longbow and quiver was slung over his shoulder. He seemed to react first.
“Jess,” he called into the hall, “we got some kind of fluffball angel in here.”
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel & Resort - Ixcaliber - 07-21-2026
The Ovipath suddenly found itself in the dim aisles of a souvenir store, surrounded by shelves full of trinkets and curios. Much could probably be said of the various and unique tchotchkes that lined those shelves but The Ovipath had more pressing issues.
Its perception of the world had been narrowed to a single slice of reality, a scant three dimensions and a fixed point in space and time centered around its physical mass. “This is outrageous!” It exclaimed. “I didn’t undergo necroapothesosis just to be battered around through the cosmos and have my frame of perception toyed with by living absurdities!”
It flitted through various shapes and forms as it spoke, many pointed stellated polyhedra that thrummed with fury. “Get back down here and fight me, mano a mano, you demented children’s toy!” It shouted at the empty shop. “You ridiculous spheroid! You Baby’s First Omniscience Playset!” The Ovipath continued to howl obscenities in the general direction of the absent Oddball and receiving no response, it only seemed to get angrier and consequently stellate further and further. Finally the insults and demands reduced in complexity until it was simply screaming, and then it glowed a blinding magenta and released a peal of energy that rang out like the distant sound of an explosion.
It didn’t need to catch its breath as it was not breathing, but it did something similar, letting its mental processes cool down again as it assessed its situation to try to find a solution to return to its normal state that did not require it to degrade itself to carry out The Oddball’s juvenile task of slaughtering a collection of single-dimensional ants.
Within the shelves around it various new species formed by the Ovipath’s tantrum were crawling around and trying to make sense of their sudden haphazard creation.
“Hello?” Asked a Crystal Rose Hotel and Resort keyring. “I’m not sure what’s happening. I never used to be able to think or talk before. Can anyone hear me?”
The Ovipath sighed with embarrassment, formed some fingers and clicked them and the newly sentient keyring was promptly reduced to a fine dust. It wasn’t anything personal, The Ovipath thought, it was just always embarrassing when lesser creatures tried to ingratiate themselves to it.
RE: The Mondo Ruction Infinity Minus One - ROUND 1 - The Crystal Rose Hotel & Resort - Ixcaliber - 07-22-2026
Grey found herself in a fancy hotel suite, though as she glanced around it had more of the feel of a particularly upmarket apartment. It was untidy to an extent that hotel suites never really reached due to the temporariness of their inhabitation; it felt lived in in the way only a home really can be. Dirty clothes were tossed haphazardly over neutral beige sofas and unwashed plates and cups were nestled in out of the way spots between books left open and spine up in place of a bookmark. Numerous photographs hung on the walls of a woman with red hair standing in front of various rock formations and pink mist. The far wall held a balcony behind heavy plastic doors and a view that was very similar to ones found in the photographs; thin pink mist partially obscuring rolling plains.
Grey could do little more than take in her surroundings when a door opened and in walked a woman with long red hair and a very familiar face. She was wearing a loose white t-shirt and sweatpants and her hair was still damp as though she’d not been long out of the shower.
“Grey?” She asked incredulously.
Grey stared at the stranger for a moment and then something clicked. “Lily?” She asked with equal incredulity. Without any further words said Grey and Lily were in each other arms, clinging to one another for all they were worth. “Lily I never thought I would see you again.”
Grey hadn’t ever really had a childhood, but in the early days when she was haunting motorcycle factories and inspiring engineers to push their machines just a little bit further, a little bit sleeker, a little bit faster. That’s when she’d known Lily. They were quickly inseparable. Smoking, drinking, riding by the ocean, experimenting beneath the moonlight. Grey had been heartbroken when Lily left, though there was a haziness to that event.
They pulled back, their gazes locked for a moment, the years apart apparent in their eyes, and then Grey leaned back in, her lips to Lily’s. Lily pulled back.
“Hold on a second. How are you here?” she asked, her arms still tight around Grey’s cold metal frame.
“That’s a strange and complicated story.” Grey replied.
“Well, you were always a strange and complicated woman.” Lily half-smiled, “I can handle it.”
“Okay so there’s this big orange billiard ball that has the powers of a God.” Grey explained. "It sounds ridiculous saying it out loud, I've had probably less than five minutes to acclimatise to this myself."
“The Oddball.” Lily sighed.
“Yeah - that’s - wait - how do you know about The Oddball?” Grey pulled back out of the embrace, her eyes wide.
“You’re not the first batch of combatants that it has sent here.”