Mini-Grand 5801 [Round 1: Gridlock]

Loading Mini-Grand Framework... Done.

Generating Administration Personality... Done.

Oh, come on. Really? Not cool.

Generating Characters... Done.

Four beings suddenly found themselves nowhere, able to see one another but nothing else. A synthesized voice came out of the nothing surrounding them.

"Alright, let's get this over with. You four, listen up.

"The first of you idiots is just called Anne. Her last name doesn't stay the same, it changes whenever she uses a different ID card. Each one... God, I can't believe this shit. Each one gives her a different ability based on a bleedin' pun.

"Moving on, this teal loser is called Dan 'Digger' Buller. He spent his life away from his homeworld, living on a piece of junk and digging graves to get by. His grasp of English isn't all that great, and I'm not about to coddle him by translating that shit.

"We've also got Ryan Simfitch here. He's some sort of average guy whose accomplishments include 'wearing nice clothes' and 'running some website.' The whole extent of his fighting ability is the training they give nerds in the air force.

"Finally, we have a god-damned safe. Inside is a world-destroying monster abomination or some shit, and it can't do much besides 'be in a safe' and 'be tempting.' Anyone who opens that piece of crap will find themselves and everything around destroyed forever or something."

Generating Setting... Done.

The four generated characters suddenly found themselves moved, scattered in various locations around a section of highway slicing through a massively-hot desert. As far as the eye could see, the road was packed bumper-to-bumper with cars, trucks, and numerous vehicles of intermediate description. All were apparently abandoned, left long enough for sand to be forming piles on the sides but not so long that all the seats had faded.

"Welcome to the I-15, known colloquially as fourteen-hundred miles of jack shit. Right now, you're something like a hundred miles north of Fabulous Las Vegas. Stretching from here to there and for hundreds of miles past is what some call the 'automotive graveyard.' They're the ones who probably decreed this whole place quarantined after what happened in Vegas. Or rather, to Vegas. Others call this place 'the great scrap-yard,' or 'the old nine to five.' They're more likely the marauding raiders who ignore the quarantine and salvage parts to sell elsewhere.

"Now, you four saps get to duke it out here, dealing with the heat, each other, and maybe scavengers. As soon as one of you dies, you're getting picked up and dropped somewhere else, just the three of you who survived. Then, once another one dies, on to somewhere else for just the two of you left to fight it out. You can figure it out from there."

The voice fell silent.

(Characters:)

SpoilerShow

Pick Yer Poison: Dan "Digger" Buller (#33BBCC)
Dragon Fogel: Anne (#FF00AA)
Solaris: Ryan Simfitch (#008000)
Ixcaliber: The Abomination (#800000)

Name: Dan "Digger" Buller
Gender: Male
Font color: #33BBCC
Race: Shill
Weapons/Abilities: Digger's only weapon is a four foot long shovel. The shaft is thick and made of some sort of wood, although Digger's not really sure what kind. The digging end is metal, and although it's had its share of wear and tear it's still perfectly functional. The word "DIGGER" is engraved on the handle.

Description: Digger is humanoid, but it would be hard to mistake him for one. His skin is a bright teal, and he is completely hairless. He stands nearly seven feet tall and has long, stick-like limbs. His hands have seven similarly stick-like fingers, and his feet have seven stubby little toes. Despite his appearance, Digger is anything but weak; Shills are much stronger than they look. Digger's eyes are about an inch larger in diameter than a human's, and the black iris fills most of them. A tiny pupil lies in the middle of each, although it dilates and contracts as needed, giving him impressive night vision. He has flat discs on the sides of his head that serve as ears.

Biography:

"Shill culture is heavy with superstitions regarding the afterlife, to the point where much of their daily lives are governed by them. Unlike most civilizations, most of these superstitions were not abandoned by the time they achieved faster-than-light space travel and joined the growing intergalactic community. Most Shills still lived in dirt huts at that time; the vast majority of Shills cared little about the discovery lauded as the most important one in their entire history by the few who did. Those few promptly took all of their families and blasted off into the brave new intergalactic world they'd discovered. They quickly found out that it wasn't as amazing as it had first appeared, and most of them went back home and returned to a quiet tribal life in shame, trying to forget that there was anything more than their peaceful little village.

Others, however, were eager to adjust to a new way of life...or had no other option. Shill spaceships are not known for their workmanship; there are, in fact, only four known working models at this point, and three of them are located in museums. The fourth belongs to Dan "Digger" Buller, a gravedigger living on the largely-human planet Polmer, and one of only a few hundred Shills who did not return to their homeworld. While it may seem odd that the spaceship has not been stolen, it should be noted that Shill spaceships are not even collector's items; a full tank of fuel for one is worth more than the ship itself."

-excerpt from the Narrapedia article on Shills

Digger hefted his shovel, surveying the shallow pit he had just finished digging. Unlike humans, who sweat when they're hot, Shills vent the excess heat directly out as steam; therefore, had you laid a hand on Digger's shoulder just then, you would have felt uncomfortably hot air coming off of him. Digger pulled out a low-tech walkie-talkie and hit the talk button. "Digger to chapel, come in."

A reply squawked back at him. "This is the chapel, Digger. Are you done with those graves?"

"Graves done. Anything else, or can I bed?"

"Nothing else, Digger. You may go to bed." The walkie-talkie clicked off and Digger grimaced. His English was still rather shaky, even after two years of work, and the chapel administrator was constantly correcting him in the hopes it would improve. There were only a few hundred Shills not living on the Shill homeworld, and their homeworld had been declared a no-fly zone, at the request of the Shill Science Chief, who was the closest thing to a planetary leader the Shills had available when they entered the intergalactic community. Because of this, there were no mainstream Shill translation programs, and the few privately created ones were only a step above useless anyway. Even with his disjointed sentences, his own English skills were still more reliable than one of them.

Digger strode off to his Shill spaceship that served as his home, in much the same way that a trailer van did for some humans. But not on Polmer, of course; the atmosphere wasn't lethal or anything dangerous like that, but it was much too thin, to the point that if a human stayed out in it for more than about half an hour they'd start to feel increasingly weak and dizzy. Happily, Shill lungs are good at compensating for atmospheric density (or in this case, a lack of it), which allowed Digger to take up odd jobs that were tricky or even impossible for the human colonists to do. Many of these duties were already filled by other aliens that needed work and had the necessary biological, or in some cases mechanical, equipment for it. Fortunately, Digger was able to find work as a gravedigger, a job no one else really wanted, and that was both important enough to need a dedicated worker for but not vital enough to sacrifice digging equipment for. Digger didn't earn much, but the concept of money was novel to him at the time, and he had no way of knowing that he was being paid much too little for his work. Not that he cared; as long as he had food and drink he was satisfied. He did entertain some romantic fantasies of somehow finding a female Shill from time to time, but those of course were free of charge. And in time, he had managed to discard most of his deeply ingrained superstitions about the dead.

Digger carefully pulled open the hatch to what everyone else called the "Shillship." He wasn't really sure what they meant by that, to be honest, not even after the chapel administrator had told him it was a "portmanteau," but he laughed along with everyone else because he didn't want to seem uncool, and didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he couldn't speak English very well, even though everyone in the colony already knew about it. The reason he lived in the Shill spaceship was because it was the living space most suited to a Shill occupant that could be found on the entire colony. Even if it was a terribly-designed spaceship, and even if lifting off in it was like flipping a coin with "LIVE" on one side and "DIE" on the other, it did make for more spacious living quarters than most of the other alien workers got. Racism against non-humans on a primarily human colony was very much a reality, although most of the colonists were used to them. Sadly, the most racist ones were the ones in charge, while most of the civilians and workers who mingled with aliens on a daily basis were on a first-name basis with many of them, or whatever was considered a first-name basis in the differing cultures.

Digger pulled the door hatch closed and dropped the shovel onto the table next to it, then tumbled into the cot on the floor of the ship, drawing the covers over his long figure. Because of the thin atmosphere, Polmer nights were cold, and the days weren't much better. Digger's spaceship had no heating, but one of the colonists, a dark-skinned merchant with graying hair, had been kind enough to sell him a space heater for a reduced price soon after he had gotten his job as a gravedigger. When Digger told him how much he was earning, he had tightened his lips, muttered something Digger still didn't understand, and had taken out a red marker and crossed off the last digit on the price tag. From that point on, the man - whose name was Dyson - had taken Digger under his wing, and made sure Digger consulted with him before spending his little pay on anything, a practice which had saved Digger from making some very bad purchases. Digger had been extremely upset a few months back when Dyson had died of a heart failure, and even moreso when he found himself digging a grave for him. He'd put a coin at the head of Dyson's grave, but it was stolen a few days later. He spent a fruitless day looking for the thief before giving up. Dyson's goods had gone to his daughter, back on Earth, who had decided to auction them off. Digger had picked up the shovel at that sale, deciding it was much nicer than the standard plastic-and-metal one he'd been given to do his job with, and spent a few days' worth of free time carefully carving the word "DIGGER," a nickname he had garnered, into the wooden handle with a sharp piece of metal he had found on the ship.

Digger was just drifting off to sleep when his walkie-talkie squawked at him. "Chapel to Digger, come in."

He rolled over with a groan and picked it up. "This is Digger, chapel. What up?"

"Got another order for you, Digger. Some guy just kicked it due to food poisoning. That's what they're calling it now if you eat alien food and it turns your digestive tract into jelly, apparently. Anyway, I know it's late and it's a rush order, but he's stinking up the place, and they're already setting up the service. Digger? Digger, you there? Darnit, Dan, you didn't just roll over and go back to sleep, did you?"

But Digger had vanished between the words "digestive" and "tract," leaving only a glowing space heater, a cot, and an increasingly annoyed man talking on a walkie-talkie, all inside a defunct spaceship found only in three other places in the universe.

Name: Anne (Last name varies. See Abilities.)
Race: Human
Color: #FF00AA
Weapons/Abilities: Anne has the power to change her last name by pulling an ID card out of her wallet. Changing her name in this way will grant her one or more abilities based on the resulting pun.

Examples include:
-Anne Orexic - Ability to become dangerously skinny.
-Anne Tidote - Ability to cleanse poisons.
-Anne Tarctic - Ability to create snow.
-Anne Ellid - Ability to communicate with worms.

Unfortunately, Anne's wallet is no longer very organized, due to the accidental use of the Anne Agram ID card followed by the rest of the cards falling out. As such, while she can find a specific card if she has enough time to sort out the confusing names that mark them now, in the heat of battle she has to just take what she can get.

Description: Anne's appearance and personality tend to vary somewhat based on her current last name, but there are some things that are constant across most appearances.

She has shoulder-length brown hair, and wears a large blue ribbon in it. Her outfits tend towards various shades of pink shirts and blue jeans, unless her current name involves a radical alteration.

Radical alterations include Anne Immal, who is near-feral; Anne Tagonist, who is extremely violent; and Anne Arkey, who will immediately attempt to destroy any nearby authority structure. There may be others.

Biography: Anne was raised as Anne Tagonist, and had an immense and irrational hatred of her brother Pro. In actuality, however, she had been adopted by the Tagonist family as part of a scheme by the Evil Empire (headed by Emperor Evil). When she grew old enough, they used her hatred of her adopted brother to recruit her into the army, where her brutal tactics made her a valuable asset.

Then Pro found out about her abilities and her real name (Anne Ticlimax) and she joined up with him. Along the way, she acquired numerous ID cards, which she used to change her last name in order to gain new abilities.

Then one day, she was testing out the Anne Agram ID card, and accidentally dropped her wallet with all the other cards in it. They fell out, and she scrambled all the names on them putting them back in.

She was going to organize the wallet, but before she could, she disappeared and was pulled into a battle...

Username: Sollie
Name: Ryan Simfitch
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Colour: This Green, #008000
Biography: Ryan Simfitch is man in his 30's, born and raised in the Boston area, he's spent his life happy and generally normal. Graduating near the top of the class, and happily accepting the "Best Dressed" award for his year, Ryan is more a stickler for fashion than a scholar. That isn't to say he doesn't like conversations about either. After, he joined the Air Force, signing on for an IT position there. Upon his return, he found love and was married. He then got a nice and steady job in his Hometown. In his free time, he met some artistic friends on an unimportant Internet Forum. After one of these friends greatly grew in popularity, he was called in to help with various IT issues and he became an Administrator in those forums.
Description: Ryan is a man in his 30's with Brown hair and a nice clean face. He is a stickler for fashion and is very rarely found not wearing a suit. The man himself is serious and business like, perhaps a tad much, but under that is a very nice man who only wishes for the best for his friends.
Items/Abilities: Luckily, at the time of abduction, Ryan was in the middle of a fun and happy meet-up with various users of the forum he administrated in. As a result, he is in an outdoors suit. In addition, he currently has a Clever Disguise in the form of a Novelty Fake Glasses and Mustache. Currently unbeknownst to him, he also has an enchanted stuffed rabbit armed with four powerful weapons, but tiny weapons, a spear, nun-chucks, a yo-yo, and a crossbow. His name is Verd and he was passed along by various members of the forum. The only other thing he has with him are his IT knowledge and some basic Air Force Training.

Username: Ixcaliber
Name: The Abomination
Gender: None. (It is the preferred pronoun though male if you are going to insist on gender specific pronouns)
Font colour: Dark red for eviltimes
Species: Unknown
Abilities: The Abomination has the ability to rip worlds in twain, to enslave entire civilisations to its every whim with nothing but a thought, to consume universes whole in a fiery inferno of death and destruction if it is bored and desires some light entertainment. It has the ability to take control of reality itself, create horrifying creatures out of thin air, to strip the skin from its enemies’ bones and make them suffer in perpetuity without even lifting a finger.

Technically it can do all of those things... to anything that happens to be within the confines of the safe that it is trapped inside. You know what I’ll write the other stuff first and come back to this.

Description: Inside the safe the Abomination is a vast being, a twisting mass of tentacles and faces forever contorting into horrifying configurations. It is covered with razor sharp gnashing teeth, scores of bloodshot beady eyes staring into your soul. It is the face of death and madness and after seeing it you may never be the same again.

What the others actually see is a 40 centimetre squared safe made from thick black obsidian, carved with glowing red runes. It has a thick black handle, also inscribed with runes, which looks like it would easily turn and open the safe if one was inclined to do so and oh my gosh does it look tempting.

The Abomination is hugely sadistic; it revels in death and destruction even if it is not the one that is causing it. It does however strive to always be the one that is causing it. It is angry, yes, but it is a pent up anger. It knows it needs someone else to help it out of this safe and is prepared to play nice if it believes that it can convince someone to release it, after which it will kill everyone. No exceptions. Seriously do not even think about opening this safe.

Biography: The Abomination was an awful world destroying monster and one day a bunch of heroes or villains or whoever sealed him into this safe to stop him from destroying everything. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since then his powers are slowly starting to manifest on the outside of the safe and now he’s in a Grand Battle.

Abilities Redux: Outside of the safe he has limited telekinesis and the ability to slightly alter other people’s perception of the world. He can’t take control of people but he can be like that little voice in the back of your head which is all like ‘hey why not open that cool safe I bet there is some treasure inside it will be so awesome’.