Pleasant Prison Planet - FSEAC

> Curse repeatedly at companion and throw limp-wristed punches at his stupid vacuous face. His existence is no comfort; it is but a disgusting mockery of the true friendship you haven't had for decades.

What? No, you shouldn’t hit your COMPAINION. Even if it does always stare at you like that… and even if it always does follow you around, watching your every action, never letting you have even one private moment…

>Look at him. Sitting there, grinning that stupid grin. He's taunting you. He thinks you're a joke. Are you going to stand for that? Because I wouldn't. You should teach him a lesson.

...Silently judging you. Criticizing you. Mocking you! YOU CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT ANY MORE!!!!



You send a limpwristed semi-punch at it.



Thok! Of course, this thing is damn near unbreakable, and padded for your protection, so this accomplishes nothing…
Except for activating the COMPAINION’s defensive countermeasures…



ZOTT!
Uuuuugh… you should be careful of that thing. It’s not just here to keep you “company.” It’s also here to keep you in line. To keep you cowed into submission. Its methods of inflicting pain are as numerous as they are sadistic, and you never know just what will set it off.

You hate this goddamn planet. On the plus side, you’re pretty sure that’s the first time you’ve felt any emotion other than a kind of simmering, all-encompassing loathing in years, so that’s something.

>Converse with COMPANION, perhaps reminiscing about incarceration and the reasons for it.

You attempt to converse with your COMPAINION. Your attempts at small talk are met with that same vapid grin. You ask if he knows the story of why you were exiled here… again, silence and that smile. You don’t know if he can’t talk or just likes to torture you with his continued silence. ITS continued silence. Goddammit you refuse to start thinking of it like a person. You’re going to turn your back on this thing, now.

>Try to do some more crimes so at least you get transported to a new cell. You're tired of this one.


>Steal the electromagnetic force.

Unfortunately, you’d need a MAGNOSNATCHER to even contemplate such a feat, and it’s very unlikely you’ll be able to find the components to such a sophisticated device on this ball of dirt. Also, you’d probably just get zapped again. Or darted. Or… probed. Brr. Uh… anyway, it’s unlikely you’d be transferred. You don’t think anyone besides the COMPAINION is even monitoring your activities.

> Draw up crude blueprints for a rocket ship, dimension jumper, or some similar object that might get you off this stupid thing.

You are not allowed paper, or writing utensils. You guess you could go outside and draw in the dirt, but again, you don’t really have much in the way of advanced tech to work with. Presumably there is some sophisticated machinery somewhere on the planet (you have power, after all, and food, and such), and you might be able to cobble something together with it if you could find it, but you’ve been searching for nearly a bajillion years and you haven’t found jack shit.

Leave your room with COMPANION.

Wear Companion on your head.

Okay. But you’re not wearing that damn thing on your head. For one, it weighs like, fifty pounds. For two, it would probably jam a probe into your CRANIAL JACK. You don’t even know what it does, but you’re not too interested in finding out.



Whelp. Here’s the living room. If you can call it living. There’s a chair. Comfortable. Sitting on the heavily padded table, there’s a single book (How to Win Buddies and Influence Folks) that you have read more times than you care to think about. And then there’s the TV. It only shows one of two things on any given day:

A) Reruns of a cheap Sesame Street knockoff called Poppy Lane
B) Reruns of Joanie Loves Chachi

While they were marginally entertaining at first, you have seen every episode of both of them dozens of times over. You hate them all equally.

And over there is, for lack of a better term, the kitchen. You call it that because it’s where the food comes from. The slot poops out a tray of what could be generously called food twice daily. When you’re done, you pop the tray back in and it goes away. There’s also a sink and a single cup. The sink cannot be plugged or clogged, so you can’t drown yourself, and the cup is made out of the same stuff as the COMPAINION, so you can’t shatter it and slit your wrists. You know. You’ve tried both of those things. There is no escape, even through death. You can’t hang yourself, strangle yourself, or suffocate yourself. You can’t jump off the roof, because the gravity is too low. You can’t even bang your head against the walls because they’re all pillowy soft. Oh, and almost everything in the house is lavender. You have grown to hate lavender.

> Dig a hole. Failing that, fashion a shovel, then dig a hole.

Eh. Why not? You head out to the yard.



Lacking a shovel or the means to make one, you get down on all foors and begin digging in the dirt like a dog. It’s demeaning, but at least there’s nobody here to see it.



Oh. Wait.

SpoilerShow

Bluh I forgot his nose in the first panel. OH WELL. I also should have added in a few more frames to that animation, I think... too late now!