S.A.M.L.A.R.B Spectral Aquisitons of Material Lands And Resources Bureau

Get some things off your nightmare chest

You've been dully aware of this thing called a Nightmare Chest that you got your hands on some time ago. You're not sure what it is, but you know that you can open it and take...things out of it. Things is the only way you can possibly describe them. Concepts, ideas, images. Just things. You reach into your pocket and produce a small wooden box. It's plain light wood with the exception of a darker circle of wood in the centre of the lid. You swing it open and take a peek inside and you see...Oh. You slowly close the box. Well...That was...You'd rather not think about it. You think you'll be keeping that box closed unless you can think of a legitimate reason to open it. That has...put a lot of things into perspective. A lot of horrible things you didn't want to think about. Maybe that's why you have it? To keep all the horrible things you see and do locked away until you need them for something? Why you would use these memories on someone is beyond you, but you feel you will in the future. You weep softly. You deserve it.

>Before you head deeper, as a quick act of petulant defiance, piddle in the pools of stagnant lava.

You pull yourself together. You're in a new place, a new world, a new time. New people to meet, new experiences to have, new- Damn but you need to take a slash. You look around the area for a proper receptacle for your golden gift. There is the toilet, you noticed when you first entered, but that doesn't seem quite right to you. It seems like what they want you to do, who is they? Better that you don't ask, THEY could be watching! They expect you to use the toilet to urinate. Well, Action Sam isn't the kind of man to just use the toilet because it's expected of him! You unzip your pants and pull out your John Thomas, and let loose a torrent of gleaming yellow water into one of the bubbling lava pits. At first, relief, sweet relief. Then burning. You've heard about this, something to do with an infection of the John Thomas. The burning gets worse, to the point at which you begin reflecting on how distinctly unreasonable the pain is being. You take a look. Oh. Oh there is a hole there now. The Lava must have jumped up onto your trail of urine and followed it to the source, thence to burn away the pollutant. Wow, this place has a bit of everything, such advanced tech. Self-cleaning lava. How best to react to this situation, you wonder to yourself? Well maybe you shou- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! You black out.

You wake up and pat your groin, it's still there, you look around yourself. You're back outside of the lift, exactly where you were mere moments ago. You look ahead. Your own dead body is lying on the ground being consumed by the semi-sentient lava. You realise that you can die in this world, but that it doesn't seem to take. Your dead body turns and looks at you, whispering an unheard plea for help as it is sucked bodily into the lava. You file that away in your mind...far away. As deep as deep goes, so deep that you'll never remember it except for in the dead of night when you wake from a dream screaming so loud the neighbours call the police worrying that you're being murdered OR committing a murder. Okay, it's gone, let's not think about that ever again.

>Wistfully fantasize about roasting marshmallows over the lava pits. Every maladjusted freak-child's dream.

You look at the lava, and wish you could roast marshmallows over the hot substance. You saw marshmallow roasting so often on the TVs in shop windows. You weren't allowed to watch such fun activities on your home television. Your parents worried it would give you too much hope in life. You seem to think there is something that should advise you not to roast marshmallows over the lava, something you can barely remem-NO.
...That was odd. Your brain almost punched you in the head for thinking abou- NO GOD DAMN IT NO!

…You decide to stop thinking about whatever you were thinking about. You have made zero progress.

You are standing in what...seems to be Hell. To your left is a port-a-loo with an old joke on it. Before you lies a screaming path deeper into the Hellscape. Behind you sits an elevator. It starts speaking. “Human Resources Department. Human Resources Department.” It repeats.

What do you do?

Inventory:

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Shard of glass embedded in head.
Blood (Hands)
A sense of smug self-righteousness
Mango Cat Tape

Nightmare Chest:

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An Office Complex in a sea of screaming faces and stars
The Concept of Eternity in an Office Job
Being Called Sammy Boy
Lady Blaze's Bloody Horrible Appearance
Small Fruit
Everything about your current situation
Germans who think they are funny.
Your own body pleading with you to save it as it is consumed by lava.