Re: Epic Clash Round 2 - The Wax Colosseum
03-08-2010, 09:57 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
"So," Greg said, standing back from the whiteboard, "do you think it'll work?"
"Well," Walt said, "if it works that way, it could be a good strategy, but... we just don't know."
"I guess we'll just have to find out."
"Still," Walt continued, "I'm not sure we should be playing this tag game at all. I mean, why should we do what this guy tells us? Shouldn't we be trying to escape or something?"
"Simple. We can't. Given what he's done so far, it would be unreasonable to assume that we could overcome him and escape. Our only choice is to play his game and win."
"But what makes us worthy? Why, of all the people here, should we be the ones to survive?"
Greg leaned on his desk, keeping Walt's attention away from the window. He could see perfectly well how Bern's negotiations were going, and he was pretty sure Walt wouldn't be very satisfied.
"It's a matter of logic," he said, adding another diagram to the whiteboard. "The survival of any of the other contestants would result in the survival of precisely one consciousness. Our survival, however, would allow four consciousnesses to live. It doesn't matter that they're us- the only important thing is the number. We are the most logical choice to survive, and we have a duty to do our best in order to ensure that the maximum number-"
A voice outside interrupted him. "Oh, screw you!", Bern shouted, the campfire flaring up and singing Nothing's clothing. "Go back to hell!"
Walt whirled around to face the window. "Dammit", he shouted, "I knew it!"
Bern was seated on his stool on the other side of the room, and Walt started towards him, making it halfway there before Greg's tackle brought him down. "Let me go! He's going to get us all killed!"
Greg shifted his grip, pinning Walt's arms to his sides. "He's the best fighter of all of us, he can manage this on his own."
Walt twisted his head to stare at the window. "He isn't doing squat! Look at this!"
Reluctantly, Greg had to agree. Fire wasn't terribly effective against a skeleton. "Go," he snapped, "wake up Eric. I'll take over for Bern."
"Fine," Walt said, "just get off me."
Thomas blinked, and the fireballs stopped coming.
Nothing smiled, his lack of face serving only to make the gesture even more unsettling. "Giving up already?", he said, "So be it." He raised his scythe to deliver the final blow-
-And the ground beneath Thomas opened up, swallowing him whole.
Greg focused, the stone beneath his feet dissolving into gravel, flowing past him, and reforming above his head. It took a substantial amount of effort, but he was tunnelling through the ground at a fairly good rate. Of course, since he was sealing it back up behind him, he'd need to come up for air soon. He adjusted his path, curving around and back up to come out in a different area of the arena.
It took longer to surface than Greg had expected, and when the stone opened above him, he stopped tunnelling immediately and blinked.
Eric filled his lungs in one breath, relaxing a bit in the relative safety of the hole. After a few seconds, though, he braced himself against the wall to climb out. After all, he still had an active device in his hand, and while there was plenty of time left, it would probably be prudent to get rid of it.
He had just begun climbing out of the hole when he heard a loud click above him. He looked up and found himself staring down the business end of a rifle.
"Out of the hole, buck-o," Michelle said. "Nice and slow."
Spoiler
"So," Greg said, standing back from the whiteboard, "do you think it'll work?"
"Well," Walt said, "if it works that way, it could be a good strategy, but... we just don't know."
"I guess we'll just have to find out."
"Still," Walt continued, "I'm not sure we should be playing this tag game at all. I mean, why should we do what this guy tells us? Shouldn't we be trying to escape or something?"
"Simple. We can't. Given what he's done so far, it would be unreasonable to assume that we could overcome him and escape. Our only choice is to play his game and win."
"But what makes us worthy? Why, of all the people here, should we be the ones to survive?"
Greg leaned on his desk, keeping Walt's attention away from the window. He could see perfectly well how Bern's negotiations were going, and he was pretty sure Walt wouldn't be very satisfied.
"It's a matter of logic," he said, adding another diagram to the whiteboard. "The survival of any of the other contestants would result in the survival of precisely one consciousness. Our survival, however, would allow four consciousnesses to live. It doesn't matter that they're us- the only important thing is the number. We are the most logical choice to survive, and we have a duty to do our best in order to ensure that the maximum number-"
A voice outside interrupted him. "Oh, screw you!", Bern shouted, the campfire flaring up and singing Nothing's clothing. "Go back to hell!"
Walt whirled around to face the window. "Dammit", he shouted, "I knew it!"
Bern was seated on his stool on the other side of the room, and Walt started towards him, making it halfway there before Greg's tackle brought him down. "Let me go! He's going to get us all killed!"
Greg shifted his grip, pinning Walt's arms to his sides. "He's the best fighter of all of us, he can manage this on his own."
Walt twisted his head to stare at the window. "He isn't doing squat! Look at this!"
Reluctantly, Greg had to agree. Fire wasn't terribly effective against a skeleton. "Go," he snapped, "wake up Eric. I'll take over for Bern."
"Fine," Walt said, "just get off me."
Thomas blinked, and the fireballs stopped coming.
Nothing smiled, his lack of face serving only to make the gesture even more unsettling. "Giving up already?", he said, "So be it." He raised his scythe to deliver the final blow-
-And the ground beneath Thomas opened up, swallowing him whole.
Greg focused, the stone beneath his feet dissolving into gravel, flowing past him, and reforming above his head. It took a substantial amount of effort, but he was tunnelling through the ground at a fairly good rate. Of course, since he was sealing it back up behind him, he'd need to come up for air soon. He adjusted his path, curving around and back up to come out in a different area of the arena.
It took longer to surface than Greg had expected, and when the stone opened above him, he stopped tunnelling immediately and blinked.
Eric filled his lungs in one breath, relaxing a bit in the relative safety of the hole. After a few seconds, though, he braced himself against the wall to climb out. After all, he still had an active device in his hand, and while there was plenty of time left, it would probably be prudent to get rid of it.
He had just begun climbing out of the hole when he heard a loud click above him. He looked up and found himself staring down the business end of a rifle.
"Out of the hole, buck-o," Michelle said. "Nice and slow."