#lowaw

[m-0thmanz]

hello . hi

[collectivestuck-blog]

67

SHONENSPRITE: SENSEEEEI! SHONENSPRITE: YOU’RE BAAAAAACK! JAMES: Yo. You’ve got a welcoming party waiting for you on this side of the Gate. While you were away, your sprite and consorts have been busy. You left them with the scrap of one robot, and it looks like they kept going. It must have been your sprite who got them the rest of the material they needed. Wolves scamper up the scaffolding around the red and blue mech, toolboxes in their mouths. They use their freakishly flexible paws to hammer and ratchet pieces, adjusting the joints and calibrating the controls. The mech is huge, probably at least ten stories tall, and it’s surprisingly polished in this dusty wasteland. In place of the head sits a cockpit with a clear dome shield, giving the pilot full views of every angle. The torso is a giant face, with yellow eyes and a grimly set mouth. You don’t know how they got the design – maybe your sprite tapped into the pure essence of anime – but it couldn’t be more perfect. JAMES: That… JAMES: Is… JAMES: BADASS! SHONENSPRITE: KYAAAA! You indulge your sprite and strike a pose with him. JAMES: Alright. Let’s fucking do this. You dash up the scaffolding, scattering wolves as you switch back to your favorite vanilla glove. Behind you, your sprite shouts and follows you up. The clear dome parts down the middle, and you slide into the seat. A set of levers and buttons rotates to meet your hands. You’ve never touched them before, but you instinctively know exactly what to do. It’s like you were born for this. SHONENSPRITE: OKAY SENSEEEEEEI! SHONENSPRITE: WE HAVE TO KILL THE MONSTER THAT THREATENS THIS WOOOOORLD! JAMES: Fuck yeah we do. JAMES: But first we have to find my Quest Bed so I can off myself. SHONENSPRITE: OKAAAAAAY! He starts off across the rust-colored plains. You pull the levers, and your mech starts sprinting after him. Each step shakes the ground as metric fucktons of metal pound the dirt. Outcroppings of rock zoom by at breakneck speeds. It’s a little weird that you don’t see any other figures as you go; your mech isn’t big enough to use up the parts of all the robots you saw back when you were exploring. SHONENSPRITE: OKAAAAAAY! You bring the mech to a stop in front of your sleeping dreamself. Looking down at yourself asleep from the cockpit of a giant robot is fucked up. JAMES: Hey spiky dude. Will you do the honors? SHONENSPRITE: OKAAAAAAAY! The robot bends down so you can step out onto the yellow stone slab, and your sprite floats onto the seat in your place. JAMES: Okay, give me a second to get r- You’re floating, iridescent beetles swirling around you. It takes you a second to get your bearings. JAMES: Goddamnit, I said I wasn’t ready! SHONENSPRITE: SORRY SENSEIIIIII! As you fly up to the cockpit, you flip him off. Stupid spiky haired shouting asshole killing you before you say it’s okay. You definitely got stiffed in the wardrobe department too. The cape is kind of cool, if too short, but you’re wearing fucking tights. Prince your ass. JAMES: Okay, where’s this monster we’re fighting? SHONENSPRITE: HEPHAESTUS WAITS IN HIS FOOOOOOORGE! JAMES: And where’s that, shitforbrains? SHONENSPRITE: FOLLOW MEEEEEEE! He zooms off, and you slam your robot into overdrive after him. Once again, you see nothing worth notice. Until you find the forge guards. JAMES: HOLY SHIT! You figured out where all the missing robots went. They’re standing in formation at the mouth of the cave, hands balled in fists in front of their chests. It’s a wall of metal between you and your goal. JAMES: Alright, motherfuckers. JAMES: WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK I AM?! Your voice carries through an unseen speaker, blaring out over the horde before you. It’s goddamn awesome until you realize that it was your sprite shouting the words. The gleaming guardians stand impassively for a moment. Then, in one motion, they part, leaving you a clear path in. JAMES: James Motherfucking Stelios, that’s right. The heat is intense as you pilot your mech in. Flames race up and down the walls, and you can hear the rhythmic pounding of metal on metal. A quick search for some sort of A/C comes up empty. JAMES: ...Damn. You open the clear dome and stare at Hephaestus. JAMES: ...What? It’s like your ears and your mind heard two different things. You’re positive that the sounds it uttered were completely alien, deep bellows, snarls, and roars. But you know exactly what he says. JAMES: A choice? Roar. JAMES: Right, The Choice. Roar. As lord of the forge, he’s offering to make you something. JAMES: Like what? Roar. You are Prince of Light, fated to the realm of chance. He will make you a luck charm. JAMES: Like a rabbit’s foot? JAMES: Uh... JAMES: I thought the god of the forge could make something better than a good luck charm. Roar. JAMES: Or a bad luck charm? Roar. So that’s the choice. Wait, The Choice. You can have a perfect good luck charm, or a perfect bad luck charm. JAMES: What do you mean, perfect? Roar. ...Well shit. The perfect good luck charm would give you complete control over your fate. You would never make another mistake. You could change fortune to your favor at any time ever. You could have the perfect life, free from suffering and anger. You could pull Stephanie from Steve. JAMES: How would this work? Roar. It will cost you your ride. That’s a damn shame, but it’s worth it. JAMES: ...Okay. Roar. JAMES: Don’t ask me which one. You already know, snake dick monster. Flames burst around your robot, which melts into a puddle of silvery goo. You float over it, watching it reform into a small shape. JAMES: And this is perfect? Roar. You reach out and take the pearly white voodoo doll. It’s simple, just a cylinder torso with knobby limbs and a large round head. As you touch it, understanding floods your mind. JAMES: Thanks, dude. Roar. You float out of the cave and swap gloves. -- bebopBelter [BB] began badgering intenseImpressionist [II] -- BB: yo II: hey BB: i need your void powers II: Im busy protecting steve BB: thisll do that better II: how BB: i have the perfect bad luck charm BB: were going to fuck up that white text asshole

[collectivestuck-blog]

16

Your entry into the LAND OF WILL AND WHIM was rather uneventful. Stephanie had direction from Steve, so you knew exactly what to do.

The only way to describe this place is intense. On the horizon you can see a series of volcanoes erupting. Enormous figures – hopefully mecha – clash in the distance. You can make out cityscapes in the dim light, some of which topple as the giant battles envelop them. The air is thick, and you have to shield your face from the interminable breeze.

SHONENSPRITE: KYAAAAAAAAA! SHONENSPRITE: THE CALL OF BAAAAATTLE!

The spiky hair of your sprite is ruffled by the wind (though it did that back in your house anyway). It constantly clenches and unclenches its fists, and randomly it shouts at the top of its lungs. You probably should have prototyped it with something other than the nearest DVD.

SHONENSPRITE: SENSEEEEEEEI! SHONENSPRITE: WE MUST PREPARE! SHONENSPRITE: OUR ENEMIES DRAW NEEEEEEAR!

Sure enough, you can see a pair of DUST IMPS approaching to investigate your house. As Steve said, they share traits of all of the sprites prototyped so far. They have four arms, unshaven faces, circle-rimmed glasses, and now spiky hair. Their shell-like hides are the same dark hue as the crumbling mesas around you.

Well, you never did get to try out your new Strife Specibus.

BIFF! POW!

Gloves: 2, Imps: 0.

Now that you have some Build Grist to spare, you decide to put it to use. Apparently Greg figured out the purpose of the Punch Designex currently occupying your kitchen. It allows you to combine the captcha codes of two objects from your Sylladex and plug into the Alchemiter to create something new. The jackass demanded that he decide what everyone would alchemitize, but you aren’t going to listen to that asshole. You have a few ideas of your own.

First you could use a better way to keep in contact with your friends.

Cell Phone && Glove = DIGITAL DISPLAY

You flip it turn-ways to get a left-hand glove made of a slick, rubbery black material embedded with circuitry. As you flex your fingers, a hologram of your phone’s screen appears above your hand. Now you can check your BadgerBud bulletins with a flick of your wrist.

You could use something with a more combat focus.

Glove || Recording Equipment = MOONWALKER’S MITT

The white glove extends part of the way up your arm. Simply wearing it makes you feel more nimble, like you glide with every step.

Another squad of Dust Imps is headed your way. Looks like you’re going to get the chance to try out your new toys.

SHAMON!