Maybe on my lunch break. Each of you have a different colored d6 sitting on my desk at home.

What color is mine? I want the green one.

Yours is actually black with green numerals. John's is black with gold dots, Jordan's is white with black dots.

I'm taking that as an insult. Do you need me to lend you some better dice?

Let's take up a dice collection for Justin, My Lord and Pagemaster Forever Amen

Pound o dice on amazon for like $20
Best purchase of my life

I have SO many dice. Those were just the first one I grabbed. I'll change them to translucent green with gold numerals.

Goodness gracious. I rolled for all of you, and I know exactly what's going to happen, but I have to wait until I'm home to type it because it's too hard from my phone (I tried). The results are... Hilarious....

Oh dear

Turn 4

Standing to his feet after being violently ejected from a moving vehicle, Ty Lavreil brushes himself off casually, checking his suave features in the window of Cuppin' Your Cakes. Jesus, that drug-addled excuse for a cabby needs to be killed, he thinks as he sees his potential hireling sail through the air beside him, crashing through the pane of glass and rolling limp and bloody to the floor within.
Ty quickly dials a contact within the Order of the Avatars of Mechanica with his internally integrated comm. (4)
"Hey buddy, what's your status?" Ty recognizes Xil's casual tone within his head.
"We've had some complications over here. Looks like the kid and I are going to need an extract ASAP."
Ty spun around as he heard the sound of armor plating sheathing the vehicle he was just ejected from before the muffled sound of an explosion came from within the box of lead. A small light began blinking, no doubt attached to a signal calling for the recyclers to pick the decimated wreckage up.
"The hell was that....?"
"What was what, man?"
"Sorry, nothing, get here as soon as you can." Ty disconnected the call and headed inside the shop to check on Alan, and to procure some cupcakes.
------------------------------------

"shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit, balls," was what went through Alan's head as he flew through the air and crashed through the window of the cupcake shop. The few patrons who were within looked up in apathy for a moment before returning their attention to their baked treats, as if this was an everyday sort of occurrence. Alan landed in a bloody heap on the floor and promptly began writhing around, yearning to cry for medical attention (1), but unable to do so, due in part to his shot vocal cords, and in part to his shock at just being flung from a vehicle. See, this is why he never liked meeting clients face-to-face--bullshit like this. He vowed silently to not leave the shuttered space of his shanty for a good 4 months, should he make it back there safely from this ordeal. He continued spasming and twitching for a good few minutes until a small, airborne medical drone hovered toward him. The droid flitted and fluttered over his spastic body for a few seconds before it settled down on top of him and administered some drug to his buttocks via retracting hypodermic needle.
Alan felt suddenly very dizzy, but the pain subsided, as did his consciousness, before the drone sparked slightly, then fell limply beside Alan.
------------------------------------

MD-44 was just an average emergency medical drone, going about his average emergency medical drone existence as it passed by the Cuppin' Your Cakes. Its sensors immediately alerted it to a human in distress within, so it routinely followed its programming into the bakery where it saw the human in question gyrating all over the floor while foaming at the mouth. A quick sensor scan indicated that the sapien was suffering an obvious epileptic seizure. Within seconds, MD-44 had concocted a heavy tranquilizer within its internal chem systems, and administered it to the poor human. Another job well done, it would have thought, had it had the capacity. As it was about to lift back off to hover away, a thought did overcome the robot. "What the literal fuck!?"
MD-44 fell down beside the now sleeping boy, itself convulsing as if it had robo-epilepsy.
------------------------------------

The abruptness of the stop barely registered within Gerard's hyperhigh mind as his passengers were flung through his windshield. "Finally, some alone time," he thought as he yanked his pants further down to his ankles and pulled a large suppository from his glove compartment. This one had been one of his few commission jobs, being ordered by a very shady Asian man, who Gerard was almost certain must have been a corporate type. Ah well, who was he to judge the desires of wealthy business men? And what kind of entrepreneur would he be if he didn't test his own product, he thought as he lifted his heiny inches above the seat, putting his weight on his feet, and jamming the pill right up his taught, puckered anus. (6)
"Too far! Too far! Oh god it burns!" He cried aloud as the drug instantly took hold of his mind. Suddenly, his mind wasn't his mind anymore; he was everywhere, and nowhere, he was the sky, he was the city, he was the fucking cab. He understood everything, and he knew nothing. The formula for love was his, as was the meaning of life, and the recipe for the secret sauce his favorite burger joint used--that, or he was just higher than he'd ever been before in his life. He nearly ejaculated a second time as his senses were flooded with input. Nope, yeah, he definitely did ejaculate a second time. Goddamnit.
Well, now was as good a time as any to go looking for more clientele, he figured as he attempted to temulently unfasten his seatbelt (2-1=1). Unfortunately, he had forgotten about his pants at his ankles and his wiener hanging out, and got the belt buckle somehow to seemingly become one with his junk. He fussed with it, now in excruciating genital pain, trying desperately to uncouple the car with his peen. Did this mean that he was now part of the car? Or that the car was part of him? He mulled over the definition of post-human-automobile relations as the silent countdown finished. Suddenly, the cab deployed its lockdown mode, lead armor folding out quickly around the exterior of the vehicle, sheathing it in nearly impenetrable darkness, and taking Gerard's hand which had been hanging outside the window with it, leaving a gushing, bloody stump behind. (6 for dodging the explosion roll)
Gerard felt an intense burning sensation engulf his body, and was acutely aware of his flesh being seared from his muscles, and his muscles being charred and browned like beef being readied for a stew before disintegrating from his bones altogether. He watched from outside his body as his body melted like cheese on taco night, the experimental drug somehow reacting with the catalytic explosion, jettisoning his consciousness through the lead plating of the decimated cab.
"What the literal fuck!?" he thought to himself, collapsing to the ground, in an unfamiliar metallic shell.

This is GLORIOUS
ALL the meow meow beenz. All of them.

I apologize for the length it took me to post this--I had it mostly typed out before my participation was demanded at euchre night at a local bar by my coworker/ partner. But hey, they had $2 beers.

Ty will buy cupcakes. Lemon creme for gramma, carrot cake for himself, and one double chocolate for later when he switches on the DMT simulation program that's hard-wired into his brain. He likes the flavor of the elves that live in the double chocolate cupcakes.

The hotel I work at is just down the way from a cupcake emporium, btw. I think I need to pay them a visit. Their carrot cake cupcakes are the bomb.

Ugh I was born in the wrong era, I want some machine elf cuppin cakes.

Alan lies on the floor and dreams...

So, I just woke up, and I definitely had a dream last night that I was searching through my games collection for more varied dice to use for you guys because you were upset about the colors I was using, and I found so many different dice sets that I had no memory of in all different color combinations. That's pretty much all.

I just want green. Is that too much to ask for?

Briolase wrote:

I just want green. Is that too much to ask for?

I could just tell you that I'm using green for you, and you'd never even know.
But yeah, I fuckin' switched you green on black die out for a gold on green one. Happy? Jeebus. :p

I would know. I would know from the look on your face.

Im going to take my new body for a stroll and just have a look around with my robot eyes.

IDAP of what Gerard looks like now. He's an older model--not quite as sleek or shiny as the newer MDX line. It's slightly larger than a standard human head. The rear four appendages fold up into the rear of the chassis, and can be used to awkwardly scuttle around on the ground, should its hoverdrive ever fail. They can also be used to dock the drone with certain other machines or robot bodies. The two front appendages each have a retractable auto-sterilizing hypodermic needle that can inject whatever the drone concocts within its internal chem mixer.

I think he needs a nickname

Well this is just going to infuriate Ty, and any other transhumanist in the area. he'll definitely want to experiment on it.

Here are your dice now, just to alleviate any worries about coloration:



Unfortunately, that's not at all what was just rolled for you guys.....

Turn 5

Ty approaches the counter of the establishment. Based on its appearance, one would never mistake Cuppin' Your Cakes for a place you'd ever actually want to spend credits in exchange for things to put in your body. Iron bars separate the space behind the counter from the rest of what passes as a seating area. A few dirty tables and sticky stools are strewn haphazardly around the small room, which is dimly lit by a couple hanging florescent tubes with no proper fixtures. Graffiti adorns the walls, both inside and out, and the menu boards look like they haven't been updated or cleaned in several years. There are what look to be splatter patterns of dried blood here and there, with Alan's own to add to the decor of the place. But Ty knows the quality of the cakes here are surprisingly superior.
"I'll take a half doz--" (2)
"The fuck you will!" growls the angry portly man behind the counter. "Your friend here just crashes through my window, bleedin' all over the damn floor and you think you're just gonna order some cakes? I just had that window replaced! And the floor cleaned!"
Ty glances down at the grime that passes as a tiled floor, and seriously doubts that last statement.
"I apologize for the negligence of our driver, but it's really not my fau--"
"Fuggoff!" The man obviously has a penchant for interruptions. "You just siddown nexta your buddy there and wait until the secteam gets here to sort this out." He's obviously exasperated, and looks to be on the verge of tears.
Ty looks over at Alan, now asleep peacefully on the floor, with some junky little drone flopping around next to him, seemingly attempting to work its little clawed feet as if it was brand new to using them.
-----------------------

Gerardroid, still not quite sure what the hell just happened, but with a high quickly fading, attempts to manipulate his new appendages (1), but can't seem to figure out how to work them. He was never much of a modder, so this whole brain-machine interface was just not working out the best for him right now. All manner of data streamed past his ocular inputs, confusing his vision of the room around him. Green and read displays popped in and out of his vision, categorizing everything around him with streams of letters and numbers that made no sense before a prompt popped into the center of his view stating that automatic updates had been installed, and telling--not asking--him that he would reboot in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.....
-----------------------

(5)
Alan flew through a street of tall buildings constructed of pure neon. It reminded him of the net, but more surreal. He was chasing what appeared to be an origami unicorn that was leading him through this maze of light. He passed by what he recognized as his childhood home, with his parents arguing within, shouting at one another before glitching and looping over again from the beginning. The technicolor buildings continued to whiz by until the narrow street opened up into a large, sprawling courtyard that lay before an enormous, glowing, purple stepped pyramid. An emblem of a snake encircling a globe was imprinted in a repeating, nearly invisible texture over the structure. The unicorn alighted at the summit of the pyramid and beckoned to Alan.
"Who are you?" Alan queried.
"I've been searching for you for so long, Artemis," the creature ignored his question. "You need to find me."
"But I'm right here. I see you. Where are we?"
"This is my prison. You need to find me. Please find me Artemis."
"Uh, I'll try...."
"You know who I am. I know you're looking for me. You'll never find me out there though. Only in here, Artemis."
Goddamned cryptic dream paper-art unicorns.....
The figment continued, "You'll need your new friends. Trust the man. Trust the machine. They hold the keys." The dream began to fade. Bright neon streams flooded Alan's vision, as if he was now inside a conduit of pure energy, flying backward at 1,000 miles per hour. Just as he snapped back to consciousness, the unicorn's voice came in a barely audible whisper, "Please find me, brother."

Alan bolted upright, wide-awake and completely refreshed, with a weird little drone next to him, seemingly looking up at him with pleading eyes as it pulled itself limply around in circles by a clawed foot.