En route

Three days.
Three days and one hour. And you'll arrive. It's a miracle you've managed to stay sane this long, alone.
What is your name?
>_

>Big Zoog, Lord of, of, uh. Lord of... Uh, uhm.... I remember, it was, uh... something something...
>...
>Look, you're Big Zoog, Lord of something-or-other. I don't what it is you are the lord of, but you're Lord of something.

Whitemon

Big Zoog, lord of semi-patience.

zig boog, lort of infinite spaghetti legs

....Gerald. Yes, Gerald is your name.

>Big Zoog, Lord of, of, uh. Lord of... [snip]

Big Zoog, lord of semi-patience.

Your licensed name is Zoog, Lord of Semi-patience. By that point in the war they were running out of titles. Your friends typically call you Big Zoog, or just Zoog. Speaking of:

Your CompicroWave is going off. It seems you have a new message.
>_

It's Vark-Bark, a combinatory consciousness with a fascination for your patient demeanor, as its processors keep it running at 10x normal speed, and even the shortest amount of time is arduous. You get messages from them like clockwork, so maybe don't reply this time?

It's Vark-Bark, a combinatory consciousness with a fascination for your patient demeanor, as its processors keep it running at 10x normal speed, and even the shortest amount of time is arduous. You get messages from them like clockwork, so maybe don't reply this time?

Instead, examine suspiciously meat-and-skin-lookin fruit near the picture.

It's Vark-Bark, a combinatory consciousness with a fascination for your patient demeanor, as its processors keep it running at 10x normal speed, and even the shortest amount of time is arduous. You get messages from them like clockwork, so maybe don't reply this time?

Without further investigation, you have no idea who it could be. You doubt it is any artificial intelligence though. Those have been banned for a while now. Shame, really.

[snip] examine suspiciously meat-and-skin-lookin fruit near the picture.

You have absolutely no idea what these are. Any meat or skin you had when you departed has long since been consumed. These formless objects could be almost anything.

Acctually its pr0b hefpt0. ur a spy. nice

Flip picture frame. maybe there’s something behind.

Possibly those are some sort of strange, smooth, potatoes. Could be good in a stew, if you had the means for that.

Acctually its pr0b hefpt0. ur a spy. nice

You check your messages. It's from your friend who goes by the handle LogorrheaLustrate.

THclientLogShow

LL: hey
LL: hey
LL: heyy
LL: you gotta check this website out man
HH: Sure, link me
LL: here
HH: Thanks
LL: i gtg man but watch it
HH: Ink machine broken again?
LL: haha you know it. cya

Your friend has linked you to the illicit pasta emporium. Pasta, mushrooms, plumbers, and women burn themselves into your retinas. The rush you get looking at such dirty, irredeemable content is like no other. The timer on your CompicroWave goes off of and the display closes, setting you free to do other things. This is one of the few times you have been happy about it's piss-poor design of only working as a computer while the microwave portion is running.

Flip picture frame. maybe there’s something behind.

You examine your picture, or rather your wall-mounted television monitor. You mounted it yourself, in fact. That's probably why it flickers occasionally. You were never much of an electrician. Or much of anything.

Possibly those are some sort of strange, smooth, potatoes. Could be good in a stew, if you had the means for that.

You don't think you have a proper vessel to store potatoes, or a method to heat them. Or any liquids. The timer ticks down, one hour has passed.
>_

Have you checked the cupboards?

Have you checked the cupboards?

The cupboards are painted on

Maybe just pop them in the CompicroWave? Surely that can cook a PerhapsTato.

... Flip the clock. Maybe there's something behind it.

Maybe just pop them in the CompicroWave? Surely that can cook a PerhapsTato.

You place the PerhapTatos into the Compicrowave, and set it to 15 seconds.

The darker ones are burnt to a crisp and the lighter ones become significantly darker.

... Flip the clock. Maybe there's something behind it.

You stick your hand directly into the clock. The 3 warps around it. It feels freezing cold. When you withdraw your hand it is covered in black goo.

Better get that time goo off your hand, quick. That can't be good.

...maybe add some fun details to the portrait on the left?

Better get that time goo off your hand, quick. That can't be good.

...maybe add some fun details to the portrait on the left?

Also, examine the red things in the bowl.

Better get that time goo off your hand, quick. That can't be good.

...maybe add some fun details to the portrait on the left?

You wipe the goo onto the counter, before vandalizing your own TV with a RED MARKER you had in your inventory.

[snip]
Also, examine the red things in the bowl.

These control the speed of your ship. They're rusted together with some kind of red moss, and you currently cannot change your speed. You briefly wonder how you're going to land without crashing.

Examine fork.