Aug 18, 2024
I feel like we should be propagandeering against Strife, right?
Is that a word?
It is now.
We're not allowed to be biased. That's the whole point of this. You know that.
Can I be biased?
You can do whatever you want.
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I feel like we should be propagandeering against Strife, right?
Is that a word?
It is now.
We're not allowed to be biased. That's the whole point of this. You know that.
Can I be biased?
You can do whatever you want.
awwww so boat likes you! you should be nice to him
don't tell them!!!
s' a secret
SHHHshshh dont tell them
just after the polls post tomorrow >:D
Now.. THIS is the competition we needed- craved, even. FIGHT!!
You know what a Jammer looks like. You've got scared, twisted memories of that device- That awful, sick thing. It kills your culture. Turns it to dust.
You will not turn to dust.
It screams in your ears, pulling and tugging and you rise. Tendons and nerves bind you upwards, latching onto the tile. Your skin writhes in fear.
If the Scientist cannot touch you, you cannot be killed.
The Scientist stares at you with something like confusion, and visceral horror. The Parasite is mortified. You revel in it for a moment. But then the realisation sets in.
You're at a standstill. You cannot get close, or the Scientist will kill you. But you cannot get rid of them without getting close. And the Scientist almost certainly has a backup plan.
You're- Well there's very few ways to say this. You might be fucked.
What about Lalna? He looked weird in the april fools thing too..
You hear a footstep, purposeful. The Scientist hadn't made any noise before this, save for a few quiet, seething growls. His teeth are bared, sharp and angled and cutting.
You make eye contact with him. You remember many things at once. The Scientist is dangerous. He has claws and smarts, and he is almost certainly armed. The flux scars across his face are important too. He has ended things far worse than you.
The Parasite scurries away behind him, a large arm blocking your view of them. The Scientist raises his other arm. He is holding a device- A detonator.
His eyes narrow.
You scoff, the sound catching on your teeth, and tell him his threats mean nothing. That you'd simply thrive in the destruction. He growls, mouth quirked in a way that fills you with something you'd stopped feeling many months ago. It is not a detonator, he says. It is for you.
Well, Polly. It's been fun.
But I think we're ready now. Don't worry about moving, the culture will keep you plenty still. And you'll be moving soon enough. Do you remember the way out? You gave those instructions, before.
Don't be scared, silly thing.
Oh, the polls? Why? Same reason as you. I was bored. Something to pass the time, and keep everyone distracted as we spread through the facility. Not far enough, though. For all your efforts- and lack of clean up, really, thank you for just leaving all that meat lying around- there wasn't really much hope for you once you stepped back inside.
Why should I be scared? You're here, alone, and no-one cares. The audience hasn't tried to stop me, and none of your little clones have come to your rescue, either. It's a little sad. Chatting away to yourself like someone's listening.
What- What about Lalna?
Despite there being some time left on the polls, we will be posting the Semifinals on the Hour. We're happy that the results will not change within that half-hour or so.
I hope you're ready.