Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round Two: Interplanetary Circus
10-15-2012, 01:54 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by -Benedict.
It's very difficult for a city to smile. One generally needs a mouth for that sort of thing, or at least the sort of coherent motivation to feel happiness. So ordinarily, a thing like Gomorrah wouldn't bother. Not worth the effort, usually.
But it had been some time since the last time it'd killed someone properly- a real person, something that wasn't already under its control. So long since its presence had been so fully realized, since its power had run unchecked through its host. It was exhilarating- and it's very difficult for a city to be exhilarated.
And if it weren't similarly difficult for a city to feel immense, crushing disappointment, it most certainly would have felt such an emotion in the moments following.
Everything evaporated. Blackness enveloped the world, and the creations of the Gamexus flickered out of existence as if they'd never been there in the first place. Steelwork and masonry vanished without a trace, leaving behind an immense crowd of shades. They were confused, for a while, before they started fading out of existence, no city to support them. Those that remained stood and watched for a bit, transfixed by the blackness around them. They didn't pay very much attention to the man on the dragon, nor to the woman who appeared and talked for a time.
Then the void was replaced with a cramped bedroom, and Gomorrah began to shrink, and then all of a sudden it was motionless.
And all of a subsequent and entirely different sudden, Gomorrah was at the circus. If it had known to expect things, it'd have thought something like "That was unexpected." It had tasted circuses before- plenty of people, plenty of chaos, but altogether too much joy. It wasn't ready to make itself known, and it took in its surroundings before deciding upon an appropriate set of shades.
It was in a large tent- to call it a tent was perhaps to do it a disservice, because it was really more of a stadium that just happened to have glimmering cloth- was it cloth? draped over the top, magnifying the shimmering starlight above. Down in the ring, a variety of extravagantly dressed people led strange alien beasts in an acrobatic performance. The crowd was ablaze with excitement, with cheers and shouting filling the air with mirth.
Gomorrah was going to have to do something about that. For the time being, it began to remember- it remembered a baseball game, between the home team and their rival players. It remembered the hostility in the stands, the cheers drowned out by opposing boos whenever someone hit the ball. It remembered loudspeakers crackling as commentators apathetically worked the crowd. It remembered the grime and stench that drifted from the halls, the pickpockets who made a few people's day a little worse. It remembered it all, but had to stop itself. It couldn't stretch itself too far. Its appearance would undoubtedly cause a panic, and while panics were generally great fun, they had a tendency to end. It'd have to take things slowly, at first.
It started to really Remember, and a small part of the city came alive. Bill Bisbano sprang into being, wheeling his hot dog cart around the tent and cursing his low supply of mustard. Nick DiAngelo appeared, disinterestedly droning about his three-penny cotton candy. Bill shot an angry glare at Nick, despising the teenager for filling up the crowd and stealing his business. A host of other competitors emerged from the shadows and began to peddle peanuts and other snacks. A few empty seats filled up with spectators, many of whom felt no reason to respect the stadium's prohibition against alcohol. Gomorrah decided to avoid remembering the baseball players, and its spectators were perplexed for a while before drunkenly gaffawing at the three-headed Goggwheggler from Begbon IV. A few more shades appeared, composed of formless smoke. Perhaps they would have seemed out of place, if people hadn't already resolved their xenophobia regarding the sentient gas people from the Lolor system.
The hard part was done, so Gomorrah began to work on the minds of the audience. They were enraptured by the show, amazed by the wonders taking place in the ring. That was no good- Gomorrah started to numb them, slowly taking away their enthusiasm and replacing it with boredom. The joy, bit by bit, was being drained from the southern end of the tent. Gomorrah was beginning to spread.
It's very difficult for a city to smile. One generally needs a mouth for that sort of thing, or at least the sort of coherent motivation to feel happiness. So ordinarily, a thing like Gomorrah wouldn't bother. Not worth the effort, usually.
But it had been some time since the last time it'd killed someone properly- a real person, something that wasn't already under its control. So long since its presence had been so fully realized, since its power had run unchecked through its host. It was exhilarating- and it's very difficult for a city to be exhilarated.
And if it weren't similarly difficult for a city to feel immense, crushing disappointment, it most certainly would have felt such an emotion in the moments following.
Everything evaporated. Blackness enveloped the world, and the creations of the Gamexus flickered out of existence as if they'd never been there in the first place. Steelwork and masonry vanished without a trace, leaving behind an immense crowd of shades. They were confused, for a while, before they started fading out of existence, no city to support them. Those that remained stood and watched for a bit, transfixed by the blackness around them. They didn't pay very much attention to the man on the dragon, nor to the woman who appeared and talked for a time.
Then the void was replaced with a cramped bedroom, and Gomorrah began to shrink, and then all of a sudden it was motionless.
And all of a subsequent and entirely different sudden, Gomorrah was at the circus. If it had known to expect things, it'd have thought something like "That was unexpected." It had tasted circuses before- plenty of people, plenty of chaos, but altogether too much joy. It wasn't ready to make itself known, and it took in its surroundings before deciding upon an appropriate set of shades.
It was in a large tent- to call it a tent was perhaps to do it a disservice, because it was really more of a stadium that just happened to have glimmering cloth- was it cloth? draped over the top, magnifying the shimmering starlight above. Down in the ring, a variety of extravagantly dressed people led strange alien beasts in an acrobatic performance. The crowd was ablaze with excitement, with cheers and shouting filling the air with mirth.
Gomorrah was going to have to do something about that. For the time being, it began to remember- it remembered a baseball game, between the home team and their rival players. It remembered the hostility in the stands, the cheers drowned out by opposing boos whenever someone hit the ball. It remembered loudspeakers crackling as commentators apathetically worked the crowd. It remembered the grime and stench that drifted from the halls, the pickpockets who made a few people's day a little worse. It remembered it all, but had to stop itself. It couldn't stretch itself too far. Its appearance would undoubtedly cause a panic, and while panics were generally great fun, they had a tendency to end. It'd have to take things slowly, at first.
It started to really Remember, and a small part of the city came alive. Bill Bisbano sprang into being, wheeling his hot dog cart around the tent and cursing his low supply of mustard. Nick DiAngelo appeared, disinterestedly droning about his three-penny cotton candy. Bill shot an angry glare at Nick, despising the teenager for filling up the crowd and stealing his business. A host of other competitors emerged from the shadows and began to peddle peanuts and other snacks. A few empty seats filled up with spectators, many of whom felt no reason to respect the stadium's prohibition against alcohol. Gomorrah decided to avoid remembering the baseball players, and its spectators were perplexed for a while before drunkenly gaffawing at the three-headed Goggwheggler from Begbon IV. A few more shades appeared, composed of formless smoke. Perhaps they would have seemed out of place, if people hadn't already resolved their xenophobia regarding the sentient gas people from the Lolor system.
The hard part was done, so Gomorrah began to work on the minds of the audience. They were enraptured by the show, amazed by the wonders taking place in the ring. That was no good- Gomorrah started to numb them, slowly taking away their enthusiasm and replacing it with boredom. The joy, bit by bit, was being drained from the southern end of the tent. Gomorrah was beginning to spread.