A Very Serious Adventure

"Sirius!"



"You have an assignment, Sirius."



"Thank you, Sir. I'll get to it right away."





"...I see. I don't suppose there's a chance someone else could take this one?"





"No, of course not. What was I thinking?"





You are Sirius, the angel. You really, really, hate silly things.

Right now, you are in the utterly ridiculous land of Zazuzu Zuzezula, which proclaims itself the most ridiculous nation in the world. And from what you've seen on your past missions, it has some stiff competition.



You get the feeling you're going to hate it here.

So why exactly are you here, again?

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Pictures by the wonderful and talented Ed.

You are searching for an ancient artefact with a name so stupid you flatly refuse to repeat it out loud.

You are here to divinely aid Nopor Puss.

You are here to fill in as entertainment for a child's birthday party.

You are here to MURDER EVERYONE EVER.

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eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

>You are here to help dispose of some unacceptably serious paperwork that has been making far, far too much sense. With fire.

You are here to find the Cursed Temple of Ra, a charming little mom-and-pop diner that's been stolen from Moderate Consterlenbourgh, possibly while working in a Nopor Puss cameo or two. (You DESPISE him.)

You're here because, for some reason or another, God hates you.

>You're supposed to help the king of Zazuza... Zazuzazu... this land pick some new court jesters by judging a tomfoolery competition.

>TO BE A POKEMON MASTER

WHAT DO YOU MEAN, WHY

Deliver a letter. But that doesn't matter. You'll never get around to it, the whole place is too damn farcical. You're going to, like, take an alleyway to save some time and a couple of really AWFUL three-card Monte dealers will accost you, but end up taking a shining to you, and start following you like lost puppies and commenting on everything you do. You'll spend a couple of hours trying to shake them as their helpfulness gets in the way of things and they drop the letter in the puddle or something; the short, fat one (there always is one) will offer to draft up a new letter for you, like "F" or "Q." But now they figure that they ought to be repaying you for their mistake, make right, and OH LOOK, DOESN'T THAT CONVENIENTLY LET THEM FALL INTO THE SERVILE ARCHETYPE. You'll go somewhere to hide when you think you lost them in the crowd, like behind a watermelon cart that you thought sold watermelon but only smashed it. In the process of hiding, you'll bump into, literally bump into, a beautiful and level-headed woman. You introduce yourselves to each other and have a sweet moment, marred a bit by the comedic misunderstanding that the watermelon gunk on your shirt is actually blood. You'll have already agreed to go on a date by the time the two fuckleheads catch up to you and tell you that that's the king's only daughter and heir to the throne or something! Nah, that's too high-ranking. A lord's lady? A duke's dame? One of those three. But whatever the rank, that dude is basically retarded in the truest sense of the word. Anyway, she has an arranged marriage and the dude who is set to marry her is basically evil incarnate and has a plot to marry her then kill the king or her or both and then take the money. He has a lackey with a hump on his back and yellow skin, but his teeth are perfection, because, you know, juxtaposition. The bad dude abuses his lackey. Nobody else catches on to any of this, besides you, who only gradually figures it all out over the course of Acts II and III, and nobody believes you until jussst the right moment, when the lackey switches sides, the three-card Monte servants finally pay back their due with a big sweeping save-your-life moment, which in no way karmically equates with a dropped piece of paper but whatever, and the bad guy gets a pie in the face or shoved into a river or some other underminingly silly repercussion that also doesn't add up karmically to what he planned to do and-or did do. Three months later, you and the girl get married. The three-card Monte guys are there, they cleaned up their act. They now own a casino! RIMSHOT. And whatever the king guy's flaw was he's clearly shown to have that under control -- if he had bad eyesight, he's wearing glasses; if he had marriage problems, him and his wife hold hands, give each other warm looks and share a little kiss after the "you may kiss the bride" part of the speech; if he had a profound lack of pants, he will now be wearing 12 pairs of pants because he missed the point. The lackey dude is still as ugly as ever, but he found someone JUST as ugly as him! Awww. That's right, you little lackey, stay in your place and NEVER aspire to ANYTHING higher. At the end of the wedding, you all reprise the opening theme triumphantly. Curtains.

The job you were given was to deliver something. That no longer matters.

The reason you are here is to level every last bit of this nightmare.

Wait, did I say deliver something? No, you were here to wash some royal's car or some other equally demeaning task.

As you clean your face, you reflect on the mission. Frankly, even the very description of it is ridiculous, but you don't have much choice in the matter.



Let's start from the beginning. Ultimately, what you're here to do is stop a war.

You are here to find the Cursed Temple of Ra, a charming little mom-and-pop diner that's been stolen from Moderate Consterlenbourgh, possibly while working in a Nopor Puss cameo or two. (You DESPISE him.)

It all began when a certain troublemaker who had nothing to do with either country decided, for no reason at all, to steal Moderate Consterlenbourgh's prized Cursed Temple of Ra (piece by piece) and hide it in Zazuzu Zuzezula.

You are searching for an ancient artefact with a name so stupid you flatly refuse to repeat it out loud.

The theft of the temple alone wasn't much of a problem, but within the temple (according to legends, hidden in the depths of the kitchen), there was an artifact of great importance to Consterlenbourgh's prosperity. The artifact was called... ugh, no, you don't even want to remember, it was so incredibly stupid. Let's just call it the Artifact for as long as we can help it. Nobody's sure what it actually looks like.



In any case, the loss of the Artifact soon brought both nations to the verge of war.



This was made worse by the fact that they didn't share a border.

>You're supposed to help the king of Zazuza... Zazuzazu... this land pick some new court jesters by judging a tomfoolery competition.

However, the Heavens have noticed an opportunity to solve this problem. According to tradition, Zazuzu Zuzezula has a competition for a new court jester every year at about this time.



And, according to Zazuzu Zuzezula law, the new jester must be officially ordained at the Cursed Temple of Ra, where they must complete a series of trials to prove themselves truly worthy.



You've got to make sure the right person wins, and follow them to the temple so you can retrieve the Artifact and end the war. There are just two problems - well, aside from the silliness of the whole business.

>You are here to help dispose of some unacceptably serious paperwork that has been making far, far too much sense. With fire.

The first obstacle is a legal one.



When the Jesterial Ordainment Act was originally passed, the Cursed Temple was all the way over in Moderate Consterlenbourgh. Consequently, there are efforts being made to change this, with a rush to complete them before the contest, because the law just isn't as ridiculous if the temple is in the same country.



The legislators working on this aren't very happy, because they've had to cut corners and actually make some sections of the new law sensible, which threatens Zazuzu Zuzezula's national reputation.



But they're on the last page, after which they'll just need the King's signature.



You'll have to delay the process so that this year's winner is still sent to the Cursed Temple.

> To keep watch over a clown who entertains children

The second problem concerns the actual winner of the contest.



If an unworthy jester takes the trials and fails, the temple will collapse on top of the Artifact, destroying it.



To prevent this, the Heavens have sent you to guide one Jonathan K. Chucklesworth, currently working as a children's entertainer, to enter the contest; Johnathan has been determined to be the most worthy of the honor.



However, the Heavens believe that the forces of evil may try to interfere, in hopes of prolonging the war.



So you need to find this Chucklesworth person, keep him safe from any attackers, and make sure he wins the contest.

In short...

You're here because, for some reason or another, God hates you.

Somebody up high really doesn't like you.



Anyways, you've got to fix this whole mess somehow. Where are you going to start?

Go find John.

Get ye ice cream!

Head to the Guffaworth Memorial Jester Stadium and search for John.

Look in the very last possible place this Jonathan K. Chucklesworth could or should be. Knowing this land, he'll be there.

>Burn the parlament.

That'll delay them.

Don't forget the duck.



Wait no fuck I meant to duck I meant to

Oh God I'm sorry

Yeah find whatsisface or whatever.

>The paperwork thing sounds like the most pressing thing and also the least silly thing. If the king signs that, this entire farce of a mission is over before it's even begun! Let's start with that.

Duck. There's a pie incoming.

> Might as well get the paperwork out of the way.

>Is that Jonathan right next to you? The hair's the same shape as the silhouette.

Get ye ice cream!

No. Just no.

Besides, you don't actually need to eat or anything, you're an angel.

>Is that Jonathan right next to you? The hair's the same shape as the silhouette.

What silhouette? Why did you even think that? Ugh, this place must be getting to you. You should try to get this silly, absurd, and frankly ludicrous business done as soon as possible so you can leave this horrible kingdom.
Besides, that's clearly a girl.



"Hey Suzette! I'll have the usual!"



"Sure thing, Jonathan! Here you go, one fudge ripple surprise!"

>The paperwork thing sounds like the most pressing thing and also the least silly thing. If the king signs that, this entire farce of a mission is over before it's even begun! Let's start with that.

Ugh. Here you are.



Oh, look, a doorman. Well, maybe you can explain to him that you need to get inside.



"Zathruga ichrigi tuosuvo!"
You have no idea what he just said.

So, how are you going to get past him and into Parliament?

>Just walk past. You're an angel, what's some gibbering clown with a sword going to do to you?