Re: Epic Clash Round 1 - Dungeon of the Crimson Fish
02-20-2010, 02:08 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
If someone were to enter Thomas' mind, they would likely be rather surprised to find themselves in a moderately-sized, apartment-style room, approximately nine meters wide by six meters deep, divided up into a central living area, taking up about a third of the room, and four individual areas, each taking up one of the four corners.
The central living area is mostly empty, with a beigeish carpet covering the floor and an old brown couch against the rear wall. The opposite wall, which we shall be arbitrarily call north, is rather peculiar. At first glance, the entire central third of it appears to be a full-height window, but when you really look at it, it seems to expand, taking up your whole field of vision.
The walls of the northeast sixth of the room are concealed behind an indoor rock-climbing rig. The carpet here is a dark blue, and there is a door set into one of the walls with a vaguely oriental image of a crashing wave emblazoned upon it. This door opens into a small bedroom.
The southeast corner of Thomas' mind looks like it was taken out of a gym. The walls are lined with mirrors, and there are several sets of weights on a rack and a basketball hoop. The floor is hardwood, and there is another door in the wall, this time with a flame pattern etched into its surface.
The southwest corner is the exact opposite of this one. Its walls are covered by bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling, and they are crammed full of books of many various shapes and sizes. There is also a desk here, with a computer terminal on it and a few papers scattered around. Again, another door, this one with a rather modern-looking stylized mountain on it.
The final sixth, the northwest, looks more like a stage than a living area. It has a podium in the centre, facing the east, and there are curtains covering the walls. It all looks like something a politician would give a speech in front of. One of the curtains conceals another door, this one bearing the image of a waving flag.
More than anything, though, all elemental imagery aside, it looks lived-in. The carpeting is worn in places, and the couch sags in the middle. It's a home.
In actuality, it's a home to four individuals, all of whom bear a striking resemblance to each other. At the moment, Eric was sitting on the couch, wearing his usual shirt-and-tie combination, staring blankly at the window, trying to wrap his head around the musical talents of feathers. Walt lay in bed in his jeans and t-shirt, staring at the ceiling and muttering about how robots shouldn't even need fingernails in the first place. Greg had rolled out the standalone whiteboards, and he was furiously trying to figure out a way for this story to make logical sense. He had taken off his usual tweed jacket and it lay strewn over the back of his chair.
All three were shades of black and white. The only person in the room in colour was Bern, who was sitting on a stool in his area, ignoring the completely ridiculous story Spender was telling. He'd gotten frustrated by the others' complete mental failures and had taken control before one of them did something stupid.
Thomas was wandering around the generator room, shifting some of the rubble to clear out one of the exits while Spender worked and rambled.
If someone were to enter Thomas' mind, they would likely be rather surprised to find themselves in a moderately-sized, apartment-style room, approximately nine meters wide by six meters deep, divided up into a central living area, taking up about a third of the room, and four individual areas, each taking up one of the four corners.
The central living area is mostly empty, with a beigeish carpet covering the floor and an old brown couch against the rear wall. The opposite wall, which we shall be arbitrarily call north, is rather peculiar. At first glance, the entire central third of it appears to be a full-height window, but when you really look at it, it seems to expand, taking up your whole field of vision.
The walls of the northeast sixth of the room are concealed behind an indoor rock-climbing rig. The carpet here is a dark blue, and there is a door set into one of the walls with a vaguely oriental image of a crashing wave emblazoned upon it. This door opens into a small bedroom.
The southeast corner of Thomas' mind looks like it was taken out of a gym. The walls are lined with mirrors, and there are several sets of weights on a rack and a basketball hoop. The floor is hardwood, and there is another door in the wall, this time with a flame pattern etched into its surface.
The southwest corner is the exact opposite of this one. Its walls are covered by bookshelves that reach up to the ceiling, and they are crammed full of books of many various shapes and sizes. There is also a desk here, with a computer terminal on it and a few papers scattered around. Again, another door, this one with a rather modern-looking stylized mountain on it.
The final sixth, the northwest, looks more like a stage than a living area. It has a podium in the centre, facing the east, and there are curtains covering the walls. It all looks like something a politician would give a speech in front of. One of the curtains conceals another door, this one bearing the image of a waving flag.
More than anything, though, all elemental imagery aside, it looks lived-in. The carpeting is worn in places, and the couch sags in the middle. It's a home.
In actuality, it's a home to four individuals, all of whom bear a striking resemblance to each other. At the moment, Eric was sitting on the couch, wearing his usual shirt-and-tie combination, staring blankly at the window, trying to wrap his head around the musical talents of feathers. Walt lay in bed in his jeans and t-shirt, staring at the ceiling and muttering about how robots shouldn't even need fingernails in the first place. Greg had rolled out the standalone whiteboards, and he was furiously trying to figure out a way for this story to make logical sense. He had taken off his usual tweed jacket and it lay strewn over the back of his chair.
All three were shades of black and white. The only person in the room in colour was Bern, who was sitting on a stool in his area, ignoring the completely ridiculous story Spender was telling. He'd gotten frustrated by the others' complete mental failures and had taken control before one of them did something stupid.
Thomas was wandering around the generator room, shifting some of the rubble to clear out one of the exits while Spender worked and rambled.