tt: burnout

[mototastic]

(heads up that even tho i just started this blog i am taking a break from it as well, mainly because i am really self-conscious about my rping and often embarrass myself with my writing and it has really been affecting me poorly. sorry!!!!)

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

“Dylan, huh?” Street said, paying no heed whatsoever to Dodger’s warning. The grin was stil on his face and his eyes were locked on her. “That is a pretty name!” Actually, he’d always though it was a guy’s name, but hey, she was cute, so she made it cuter. (Or something). “Well nice to meet ya! I’m the Turbo from TurboTime Street, but ya can call me ‘Street’ if that’s easier. Most people do. You like my ride?” He gestured to his Mustang. “There ain’t no pansy little go-karts where I’m from!” 

Arc slowly shook her head as she stared at Street. Quasar couldn’t believe it either. Cleary, he wasn’t going to leave, not with an attractive woman around. 

“Yeah, we’ll stay,” Arc said to Moto. “To stop this idiot from gettin’ himself killed…knock it off, Casanova! She looks just like me, how the hell can ya even…?” 

[mototastic]

A grin flashed across her face at his compliments. “Aw, thanks, Street! And --” she paused briefly to take a look at the car he was referring to, “-- gee whiz! I’ve never seen one of those before. Well, I haven’t really seen a whole ton of cars in the first place, since, y’know, there ain’t any in this game. But that’s awesome!” It wasn’t often she made friends, so she was actually pretty thrilled that this guy had taken a liking to her.

Dodger, on the other hand, was completely mortified, not only because this stranger that they had just met was flirting with his sister, but also because the aforementioned stranger apparently wasn’t leaving anytime soon. He shot a disbelieved look at Moto -- while he respected him, he had to admit that occasionally his decisions as the leader were questionable.

Moto knew that he would have to keep an eye on this newcomers, seeing how he still didn’t fully trust them, but so far they seemed harmless. He was pretty certain if they had been up to something, there would’ve been a bloodbath after Dodger stuck a glock in their faces.

“Alright, then,” he said finally, turning around and gesturing them to follow, “This place isn’t the biggest, but its got its interesting sights. If we’re lucky, we’ll come across, well, the other two racers. But no worries, they’re not as ... unpredictable as, uh, a certain someone.”

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

As Dodger marched towards them, Quasar started to back off and Arc changed her mind about the swords, figuring with his attention focused on Street she could run him through fast enough for them to take his gun away.

She never even got chance to draw them before the other racer appeared, however. Street didn’t know what the hell to think as Dodger was pulled away: he kind of wanted to kick his ass, but he was also starting to wonder if the other racers were just as trigger-happy and what they’d do then. He was no stranger to being shot at, but it was a bit different outside of his game where he could, well, die. 

At least, that was until he saw that the newcomer was an attractive woman.

Because then all his thoughts boiled down to ‘ten out of ten, would bang’.

A grin crossed Street’s face as he leaned down to her level. 

”Heyyy, babe, it’s totally fine,” he said. “It’s just a misunderstandin’, nuthin’ more, nuthin’ less. So what’s yer name, sweetheart? Is it as pretty as yer face?”

Arc turned to stare at Street with her mouth open and Quasar facepalmed so hard it was a miracle he didn’t break his nose, groaning as he slowly dragged his hand down his face. 

"Are ya serious right now?” he cried.

[mototastic]

The new racer, blinking at the sudden change in mood, opened her mouth to say something before Dodger pushed her aside a bit and, thankfully not using the gun this time, jabbed a pointed finger at Street’s face.

“Alright, now that’s crossing the line, pal! Ya don’t go hitting on my sister or next time, I will shoot y --”

“That’s enough of you!” she snapped, shoving him back behind her before turning back to Street, “Uh, really, don’t worry about him, he’s got a terrible aim. I’m Dylan, that’s Dodger, who I’m sure will not cause any more trouble for you, right?” 

She turned to look at her brother for an answer, who refused to respond, only glaring daggers in Street’s direction from behind his helmet visor. 

“They say they’re only here to look around,” Moto, who had only been a bystander all through this, finally said, not moving from his position, “And we’ll let them -- well, y’know, if they still ... want to.” After all, he knew that they hadn’t exactly given off the best first impression ever.

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Oh, crap! That about summed up the reaction all three leaders had to suddenly having a glock in their faces. Quasar jumped back and Arc did the same, instinctively reaching for her swords before thinking better of it. If she drew those, she had no doubt he would start shooting. 

Street quickly raised his hands as a sign of peace. 

“Whoa whoa whoa! Buddy, calm the hell down! We was just wantin’ to say hello! We’s all part’a the same franchise here!” 

“And why would we want to take this game when ours is just like it?” Arc added. “Except, you know, with actual NPCs. Unless you shot all NPCs.” Quasar glared at Arc for saying that, not believing her snarky remarks would help here. At all.  

[mototastic]

Clearly unsatisfied with the responses he received, Dodger’s rageful expression only hardened as he began marching towards the group.

“I don’t believe ya!” he exclaimed, frantically waving the gun’s muzzle in Street’s direction, “A ‘T’ on your head doesn’t mean jack squat! You’re intruders, intruders are threats, and around here, threats either get out or get bullets through their brains!”

He sucked in a breath to continue, but before he could get the words out, he was silenced suddenly when a third racer, donned in almost identical clothing to his own, roughly yanked him backwards, causing him to accidentally fire a shot upwards in surprise. Looking almost as angry as he was, she spun him around and pulled him forward.

“What’s wrong with you, you moron?! You can’t just go around threatening to shoot random strangers!” she cried, shaking him as she spoke, “And quit playing leader all the time! Turbo’s the leader --” she then thumbed over her shoulder at Moto, who had been standing off to the side, “-- and he’s alright with them being here, so lay off!”

Dodger, after finally pulling himself away, whipped back around to face his unwanted visitors with a lowered brow, but was shoved behind the other racer before he could do anything. She grinned nervously. 

“Sorry, he tends to be a bit ... uh, unpredictable.”

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

All three were surprised that Moto knew of their game already. 

“What, really?” Street exclaimed. “I’m not used to meetin’ people who’ve heard’a us!” And Moto said about six years, which could easily mean seven years really. Street didn’t remember their game’s early days well at all, but he looked at Quasar, hoping he could remember them better and therefore know where Baxter had purchased their game from. “Uh, could that’a been us maybe?” 

Quasar was still on edge despite Moto moving his hand away from his gun. He wanted to leave now, if he was honest, and he sensed that Moto wasn’t exactly eager to give them all a big family hug. He slowly shook his head at Street’s words. 

“Pretty sure Baxter got us from BMI, dude,” he answered, not once taking his eyes off Moto. “Not that I remember being sold, but that’s where everyone said he got his newer machines from. So no.”

“Huh.” Street raised and lowered his shoulders. “That answers that, then. And, well, no, we ain’t actually from this arcade, we’re from another one near here. But we heard yer game was in town and we had nuthin’ better to do, so I mean, why not? Why not come over and see what yer like? After all, I hear yer game’s just as chaotic as we are.”

“If it means anythin’, we didn’t mean to come at once,” Arc added, glancing at Street and Quasar. “It just kinda…happened. Ya wouldn’t believe the stupid coincidences that happen to us, ya really wouldn’t. Or just the stupid things in general that happen to us.” Or because of them…

[mototastic]

There was another arcade nearby? He knew you could jump between games, but he didn’t even realize that game characters could travel back and forth between arcades. Then again, he rarely even left his own game, so it wasn’t too surprising that he wasn’t aware of all these things.

While he still hadn’t fully given them his trust, Moto’s negative feelings towards them were gradually starting to subside. He supposed it was only natural for sprites of the same franchise to be curious about their counterparts from other games, and as obnoxious as they were, he figured that these newcomers really did mean no harm.

“I see,” he muttered, “Well ... I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let you take a quick look around. Note ‘quick’, ‘cause a number of my colleagues don’t exactly approve of unexpected visitors. For instance, there’s a certain one who’d likely wanna pop a bullet in each of your heads if he --”

“Turbo, get back!”

Before Moto could react, he was roughly shoved to the side by a taller, blue-clad individual who, for whatever reason, was still wearing his helmet and most of his racing gear, despite the arcade being closed. He cocked the lever of a glock he was holding and began frantically pointing it back and forth between the three visitors, his eyes darting wildly from one person to the next.

“You try anything, and it’s over, you hear?!” the blue racer spat, “Why are you here? Are you criminals? Spies? Assassins?! You here to take over our game?! I’d like to see you try!”

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Street heard Moto’s voice and spun around to face him. He barely noticed the gun in its holster: he did see Moto’s hand on it, but he assumed Moto would take his hand off once he saw they came in peace. As it was, he smiled and waved in greeting.

“’Sup, bro! I’m another Turbo like you - see?” He pointed to his cap. “My game’s TurboTime Street, from 2007. This here’s Quasar, the closest thing my game’s got to ‘the yellow racer’.” He gestured to Quasar, whose eyes were locked on Moto’s gun, and he felt far less optimistic about their situation than Street. 

Poor Street, he greeted every new Turbo hoping they’d be like him and not like the one who’d bricked RoadBlasters, but Quasar had grown to believe big egos and hostility were the rule, and Street had yet to realise he was the exception to it. So why had Quasar come, then? Well, he’d only intended to to see if the game was real before his gang set off to find out themselves, and they would start a fight. He hadn’t even been sure if he’d enter the game when he’d set off: the only reason he had was because Street and Arc had. 

There came the sound of the Corvette’s door slamming and Arc drifted over, her swords clinking against her back. 

“And this is Arc, the closest thing to ‘the blue racer’,” Street said, sounding a little less enthused. 

 Arc stood beside Street with one hand on her hip, her eye flicking over Moto.  

“Nice mullet,” she remarked. “I hope ya ain’t thinkin’ of usin’ that gun…”

[mototastic]

He didn’t say a word as the three strangers introduced themselves, his eyes scanning over each one of them individually. From what he could tell, they didn’t seem like a very dangerous bunch, but then again, he had literally just met them. They could be peaceful, but on the other hand, they might just be putting on an act.

At Arc’s words, his eyes narrowed slightly, but after a short moment of hesitation he wordlessly removed his hand from the holster and crossed his arms. Sure, he didn’t trust them, but he knew he should only be threatening to use his weapon only if he needed to, as much as he would’ve loved to pop a bullet in this new Turbo’s forehead right about now.

“TurboTime Street, huh,” he finally responded after a moment of silence, raising his brow, “Yeah, I’ve heard of that -- saw one of those across from my game in an arcade auction about six years back. Never really got a good look at its cast until now.” 

He briefly fell silent again, before continuing almost monotonically, “So, why’re you here? Coming to pay the new guys in the arcade a visit, I’ll assume. I’m sure it won’t be long before you meet the rest of this game’s crew, now that you’ve made your presences, ahem --” he cast a quick glance at Street, “-- known.”

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

First came the Mustang, which turned left and slowed to a halt. Next came the Corvette, which drew up behind it. Finally, Quasar shot in on his motorcycle and stopped beside Street’s window, which lowered as Street turned to look at him.

“Small world, ain’t it?” he remarked. 

“Apparently so,” Quasar answered, pulling a comb out of his pocket to fix his oh-so-important hair. 

Street got out of his car and looked around. His first impression was that it looked strikingly like his own home, far more than he was expecting it to, if he was honest. The main difference was, Burnout’s city seemed - well, kind of dead. Speed City was an endless cacophony of noise and colour that hit like a tidal wave the moment the train doors opened, but this place… 

“Where the hell are the people?” Street exclaimed rather loudly, holding out his arms from sheer disbelief. 

[mototastic]

From where he was sitting, he was easily able to see the three vehicles come to a halt a short distance from the exit wire, all of which stuck out like a sore thumb in the dull setting. Looking at the drivers, whom he didn’t recognize from any game whatsoever, he was unable to tell if they were friendly or not, and he wasn’t too keen on finding out, either. Though, he supposed that if he wasn’t the one to confront them, someone like Dodger would find them, and that was a situation that would undoubtedly lead to violence -- he knew that he needed to face these strangers himself and simply hope that they didn’t do anything drastic to draw attention to themselves.

Before he could leap down, he was stopped by one of the newcomer’s shouting, which echoed and bounced off the walls of every building to the point where you could’ve likely heard it five miles down the road -- there was no doubt that every one of his colleagues, wherever they were, had heard that. So much for not doing anything drastic. His teeth grit and his hand instantly shot to his gun holster, and while he stopped himself from ripping the pistol itself out, he gripped it tightly in the case that he might need to. He leapt from the wall, sticking close to it before he finally marched into view.

“If you’re looking for the people, broseph, I hope you like long and ... probably frustrating scavenger hunts.” I wouldn’t worry though, he thought bitterly to himself, they’ll probably all come running here in a snap, after hearing your little announcement. 

“Who are you.”

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Of course, Street saw Arc in his mirror, and, of course, it annoyed him. Quasar not so much, because he liked Quasar, but he could honestly do without Her Majesty Queen Elizabitch.

And seriously, what the hell? How had they had the same idea at the same time? What kind of coincidental bullshit was this, even by TurboTime Street standards? 

Little did he know, Arc felt exactly the same about his presence. Her heart had sank upon catching up to his Mustang, and she’d even considered going to the Arena instead and investigating this new TurboTime later, but it was too late for that now. They’d come out of their game (giving Game Central a collective heart attack but thankfully not killing anyone) and had left their arcade behind, rumbling through the wires in search of ‘Buster’s Games’. 

And it looked like their search was over: there was an entrance to a surge protector dead ahead. Street pushed down his accelerator and shot through into Buster’s Game Central equivelent, giving them a collective heart attack (but thankfully not killing anyone). Street saw the entrance to TurboTime: Burnout and turned straight towards it, Arc and Quasar doing the same.

[mototastic]

For a game that was normally exploding with the sounds of rapid gunfire and the roaring of engines, it was unusually quiet afterhours. While Moto could consider himself somewhat close to his colleagues, they usually went about their own individual business, doing who-knows-what until the arcade opened in the morning. In a game as vastly sized as theirs (which, for the most part, took place in a modern urban setting) there were a good number of things you could occupy yourself with. Talking to people around the place was a bit harder, considering how there was a total of four other residents, save for the occasional pedestrian that would appear in-game. Though, he wasn’t sure if he should count those as “residents”, since they were only projected images -- and with almost no friendly visitors, he had to admit that it did get rather lonely in here, on occasion.

Speaking of visitors, he could’ve sworn he heard an engine -- multiple engines, in fact -- up at the exit wire to Game Central, which was visible in the distance from where he was at. While he couldn’t see the vehicles they belonged to, he could easily tell that the ones he was hearing did not belong to any of his colleagues.

He’d spent the past few minutes sitting on top of a cement wall, fumbling with a busted lighter in an attempt to fix it and, having grown frustrated with it, tossed it aside before turning to look at the wire with a narrowed brow. He hadn’t been expecting any visitors, nor did he recall ever seeing another racing game in the arcade from behind the console screen. Perhaps he’d been wrong.

[street-turbo-deactivated2016051]

Closed RP with mototastic

The door to Street’s hut crashed open, and there stood a grey-skinned man in a red leather jacket, one hand against the frame as he panted heavily from exhaustion. At last, he looked up, his eyes wide with alarm. 

“Turbo!” 

Read More

[mototastic]

Normally, when a new game was plugged in at an arcade, sprites from every corner of the building would come swarming in to exchange their greetings with the newcomers, hoping to help them settle in and feel right at home in their new environment. 

But in this particular game, the cracked and beaten roads were completely empty.

Sure, Burnout was brand-spanking-new to this arcade, but by no means was it a “new” game. No -- it had been standing strong for a good twenty years. Though, one would easily lose track of how many times this same exact cabinet had been sold and purchased, repeatedly shipped back and forth across the country, bouncing from one arcade to the next. It couldn’t stay in one place, it seemed. But why? 

There were two answers to that question. First of all, owning a copy of this game was every arcade owner or hardcore collector’s dream -- with only five-hundred copies ever created (the number was likely lower than that by now), it was constantly sold for a wickedly high price, purchased, and sold again for an even higher price. Nobody who had it ever seemed to want to keep it, simply due to the fortune you could make off of it when you threw it up on eBay. Secondly, it wasn’t the most popular among actual players, for it was an outdated game with poor graphics compared to those of more modern ones. On top of that, many family-friendly arcade owners who had not looked enough into the game had bought it on a whim, not expecting it to contain such insanely graphic content solely because of the “TurboTime” slapped on the front of the title.

Turbo didn’t really think too much of all this moving around, nor did he let it drag him down. Sure, he didn’t exactly like it, but he was pretty much used to it at this point.

The constant moving had, at one point, forced him to adopt a nickname -- “Moto” is what he called himself -- to distinguish himself from the other Turbos in the arcades he would arrive at. While nowadays the probability of an original TurboTime popping up in an arcade had decreased significantly, he had grown so used to having to call himself “Moto” that it eventually stuck. It was the only name he went by now, regardless of whether or not there was another Turbo in the arcade.

Now, the residents of this particular arcade, a rather small one known as simply “Buster’s Games”, had had their experiences with TurboTimes in the past -- bad experiences, to say the least, which kept them from even considering to pay the newcomers a visit. Not that Moto really minded, or cared.

After all, he wasn’t too fond of strangers who just came barging on in without warning.

[mototastic]

WELCOME TO TURBOTIME BURNOUT.