Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
02-15-2012, 09:41 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by -Benedict.
Bound. Trapped. Stolen, taken, kidnapped, burgled, snatched. It knew, it knew it had been displaced, that it had been ripped from its host. Gomorrah would have missed it, really. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, so alike itself. So many men and women screaming, fighting, killing, giving into chaos. It would have been heaven, if Gomorrah could have overseen the last moments of its destruction. That city barely needed its help. Would have missed it. Would.
Would have, if Gomorrah were the sort to do that kind of thing. Gomorrah didn't miss. It didn't long, it didn't imagine. It was, and it was to the exclusion of the being of everything else. So having been bound into a form, carried across an impossible distance, and dropped into the middle of nowhere... it had no opinion on the matter. No sense living in the past, it'd say, if saying was a thing it did. And it wouldn't be aware of the hypocrisy there, either. Living in the past... more like dying in the past, in the present... if it had the volition to contemplate such things, it would swiftly give up.
Unbound, Gomorrah got down to the business of being.
Gomorrah expanded. It would not be confined to a shifting shadow. It would make itself known, feared. It reached out, trying to take hold of something, anything. A city, a hamlet... just a building? Anything? It could feel that the world wanted to be molded, to be remade. The rolling plains were unsuitable. Empty and open, lit in a way . No clouds, no dark and shadowed corners, no sealed-off rooms which the law could not touch. No dimly-lit streets for mobs to swarm down. No smoke, no disease, no strife.
Clearly, it had to go.
The city was barely prepared for what it found. Lines of being, like its own, waiting and ready to answer the call. Digital models of skyscrapers, of cars, of waypoints and badly rendered men wielding automatic weapons. Everything it needed, at its fingertips. Metaphorical fingertips. That and more- bits and pieces of other worlds, things that defied reason. Men in impossible powered armor, monsters with strange proportions, scads of children with big hair and pointy swords, or pointy hair and big swords, or big pointy hair swords. Spacemen and gods and soldiers and demons. It was all there, it couldn't be there. The city was overwhelmed.
It withdrew from the ley lines of the landscape, taken aback. Or, it would have been taken aback, if it were the sort to do that kind of thing. It moved, it carefully reached for the layer of this world that held the familiar. It would create a host for itself, building by building.
The earth shook, and a building was called up from beneath the formerly placid soil. The world, apart from Gomorrah's intervention, began to call up the associated city. Fragments of Los Angeles, New York- a lot of New Yorks, actually, it appeared to be a frequently reused setpiece in the archives of the Gamexus- tall stonework, brickwork, and steelwork grew, snapshots and pieces of the games that inhabited the plane. A surreal patchwork of architecture blossomed on the hilly countryside, cities overtaking cities and establishing their foundations.
War loomed on the horizon. The sound of battle... oh, it had been so long since the miasma had fed on the battlefield. Perhaps it would move, soon. But at the moment... it was content to be. Unassailable.
Right?
Bound. Trapped. Stolen, taken, kidnapped, burgled, snatched. It knew, it knew it had been displaced, that it had been ripped from its host. Gomorrah would have missed it, really. A wretched hive of scum and villainy, so alike itself. So many men and women screaming, fighting, killing, giving into chaos. It would have been heaven, if Gomorrah could have overseen the last moments of its destruction. That city barely needed its help. Would have missed it. Would.
Would have, if Gomorrah were the sort to do that kind of thing. Gomorrah didn't miss. It didn't long, it didn't imagine. It was, and it was to the exclusion of the being of everything else. So having been bound into a form, carried across an impossible distance, and dropped into the middle of nowhere... it had no opinion on the matter. No sense living in the past, it'd say, if saying was a thing it did. And it wouldn't be aware of the hypocrisy there, either. Living in the past... more like dying in the past, in the present... if it had the volition to contemplate such things, it would swiftly give up.
Unbound, Gomorrah got down to the business of being.
Gomorrah expanded. It would not be confined to a shifting shadow. It would make itself known, feared. It reached out, trying to take hold of something, anything. A city, a hamlet... just a building? Anything? It could feel that the world wanted to be molded, to be remade. The rolling plains were unsuitable. Empty and open, lit in a way . No clouds, no dark and shadowed corners, no sealed-off rooms which the law could not touch. No dimly-lit streets for mobs to swarm down. No smoke, no disease, no strife.
Clearly, it had to go.
The city was barely prepared for what it found. Lines of being, like its own, waiting and ready to answer the call. Digital models of skyscrapers, of cars, of waypoints and badly rendered men wielding automatic weapons. Everything it needed, at its fingertips. Metaphorical fingertips. That and more- bits and pieces of other worlds, things that defied reason. Men in impossible powered armor, monsters with strange proportions, scads of children with big hair and pointy swords, or pointy hair and big swords, or big pointy hair swords. Spacemen and gods and soldiers and demons. It was all there, it couldn't be there. The city was overwhelmed.
It withdrew from the ley lines of the landscape, taken aback. Or, it would have been taken aback, if it were the sort to do that kind of thing. It moved, it carefully reached for the layer of this world that held the familiar. It would create a host for itself, building by building.
The earth shook, and a building was called up from beneath the formerly placid soil. The world, apart from Gomorrah's intervention, began to call up the associated city. Fragments of Los Angeles, New York- a lot of New Yorks, actually, it appeared to be a frequently reused setpiece in the archives of the Gamexus- tall stonework, brickwork, and steelwork grew, snapshots and pieces of the games that inhabited the plane. A surreal patchwork of architecture blossomed on the hilly countryside, cities overtaking cities and establishing their foundations.
War loomed on the horizon. The sound of battle... oh, it had been so long since the miasma had fed on the battlefield. Perhaps it would move, soon. But at the moment... it was content to be. Unassailable.
Right?
Spoiler
![[Image: cityrise.png]](https://www.majhost.com/gallery/spacetimeCounselor/PSC-Misc/grandbattle/cityrise.png)