RE: MINI-GRAND 8801: ROUND ONE - GRIMEWORLD
08-07-2026, 09:35 PM
Somewhere, somehow, a dude is rudely interrupted from its lashing-together of logs to make a raft for some other, would-be seafaring dude, hurtles through a void, and gets told to kill some other folks (not dudes).
It then landed on its feet, took one step, and immediately pitched backward, stirring up a powdery cocktail of hydrocarbons, rust and mold. Backpack still well-provisioned, it thinks to itself, before extending its legs a little like a snail's antennae until feet met industrial iron floor.
The dude wiggled a bit, uttered the ancient quadriceps-manifesting-spell of "mmm!" and heaved itself back to upright again. It took a further swayful moment or two of finding a new center of gravity atop longer-than-usual legs, but it got there eventually. The dude dusted itself off, checked its backpack was closed, and-
"Mmm." The two little black eyespots on the dude's face narrowed microscopically. Its bucket hat was missing.
It looked around. Most of its surroundings seemed to be made up of the same material as its bucket hat, in varying advanced states of decay. It looked up. What sparse polygons of sky remained visible beyond the overhead strata-web of architectural skeletons was also a color like "decay".
"Mmmmmmmm." The dude shimmied out of its backpack, and started feeling around in it for freeclimbing equipment. It didn't even have to pause its visual calculus of the best path up, finding its favorite coil of kernmantle sheathed climbing rope (and its cloth bag of carabiners) by touch.
This killing business would just have to wait - it wasn't a dude who killed people, after all, it was a dude with a fuckass bucket hat. Priorities.
It then landed on its feet, took one step, and immediately pitched backward, stirring up a powdery cocktail of hydrocarbons, rust and mold. Backpack still well-provisioned, it thinks to itself, before extending its legs a little like a snail's antennae until feet met industrial iron floor.
The dude wiggled a bit, uttered the ancient quadriceps-manifesting-spell of "mmm!" and heaved itself back to upright again. It took a further swayful moment or two of finding a new center of gravity atop longer-than-usual legs, but it got there eventually. The dude dusted itself off, checked its backpack was closed, and-
"Mmm." The two little black eyespots on the dude's face narrowed microscopically. Its bucket hat was missing.
It looked around. Most of its surroundings seemed to be made up of the same material as its bucket hat, in varying advanced states of decay. It looked up. What sparse polygons of sky remained visible beyond the overhead strata-web of architectural skeletons was also a color like "decay".
"Mmmmmmmm." The dude shimmied out of its backpack, and started feeling around in it for freeclimbing equipment. It didn't even have to pause its visual calculus of the best path up, finding its favorite coil of kernmantle sheathed climbing rope (and its cloth bag of carabiners) by touch.
This killing business would just have to wait - it wasn't a dude who killed people, after all, it was a dude with a fuckass bucket hat. Priorities.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow