Has someone checked his pulse? I mean, sometimes I appear that way, esp when I'm GHBed to the gills, but if you play Bryan Adams music, I'll usually fly into a rage and shake out of it. So maybe try that.

I'm pretty sure he's in the middle of three days off in a row, so who knows what he's up to. Other than obviously NOT LOVING US ENOUGH TO WRITE SOMETHING!
Maybe we can rouse him with more drug talk, it's definitely a shared interest. I'm unfamiliar with GHB but Erowid is telling me that it's something worth looking into.

Yeah, I'm feeling pretty neglected here. Guess I'll go... play ESO or something *kicks the dirt*

Wish I wasn't working all day, I'm only vampire rank 2. Shameful.

Turn 7

Everything in Alan told him to just chalk this day up as a loss, go somewhere, jack in, and play in the net for the rest of it, but he really needed that money. Somewhat reluctantly, he looked up at his would-be benefactor and asked what his plan was now (4), before turning to the medical drone and testing its understanding of English by asking if it could download illegal multigender cyborg on wachine machine porn. The little robot looked all-to-knowingly at the request, but slightly sad that no one wanted to try its prized butt cupcake that it had made just for them.

Ty's internal IntroDyne Maps^TM app had located and tagged the secteam and his extraction both converging on his current location. Unfortunately, it looked like the secteam would arrive ahead of his friends. He'd be damned if he had to help fill out the mountain of paperwork that constituted a taxi self-destruct report.

"We need to move. Now." (5)He gestured toward a basement access door that was hanging slightly ajar. "Down there." He knew from his map interface that the basement, like many in this district, had sewer tunnel access. He then sent a brief mem-to-text message to Xil, telling him he needed to reroute and meet them at a nearby hair salon.

"Wait a minute there buddy!" demanded Henry, the owner of the establishment. "That's employees only! You gotta wait here to give your report to the secteam!" But Ty and Alan were already moving down the stairs. Well shit, Henry thought. He had just gotten the place running again after the last incident--a gang of hyped-up, drug-addicted Street Snakes trouncing the place, beating poor Henry half to death, and defecating all over his prize-winning batter. He could still hear their cackling laughs echoing through his nightmares--the sort of laugh that only belonged to 80's movies' cronies (you know the one). A single tear rolled down Henry's cheek. He just wanted to be successful and share his love of cupcakes with this dystopian nightmare of a city, especially since his wife left him, and this store was all he had with which to support his dying little daughter.

Gerard, sad that his probably delicious cupcake was so unwanted by the men he had nearly killed, began searching for other ways to help them. He already had gigabytes of the videos that the boy had asked about downloaded to his drive--that was one of the first things he did when he came into his new metal body. The other man was obviously distressed about the secteam arriving and questioning them; perhaps Gerard could do something to buy them some time. (6) He began flying around the room, looking for machines he could interface with, not quite sure what he was looking for exactly. As the sirens grew closer outside, and his new friends disappeared down a stairwell, Gerard mounted the holographic menu board projector above the counter. He began gyrating and humping the projector as he attempted to insert his male coupling arm into the female interface port of the projector. He finally made it, coupling so hard with the menu projector that he thought he might have actually taught it how to love.

Gerard's cortex flooded with various types of cupcakes and their respective prices, even seasonal ones that the menu hadn't had on display that day. He drank in all the glorious secret knowledge as he attempted to hotwire the projector to do his bidding. As he was interfacing, a spark of human emotion flooded the little robot's brain. Gerard knew that, had he had his human parts, he would be all sticky right now, recognizing what passed for an orgasm in his new body. However, his spark exploded down his coupling arm and into the projector's interface port, corrupting her circuitry with some sort of virus which quickly spread through the network to all the other connected machines in the store. Gerard knew exactly what was going to happen, and he knew he needed to get out of there quickly. He dismounted and flew to follow the men down the stares, without so much as telling the projector goodbye.

The secteam strode into the shop just as everything blew up in a mess of fire, smoke, blood, and sweet, sweet frosting. They were too busy licking their fingertips and looking at the man who had been standing behind the counter be ripped to shreds by flying shards of exploded oven and cutlery to notice the inconspicuous med drone slip through a doorway and close it quietly behind himself.

Gerard caught up with Ty and Alan as they descended a ladder from the basement down into a dimly lit arched tunnel.

"This way," Ty stated, leading Alan and the robot down the tunnel, making a few sharp turns here and there, and attempting to not fall off the edge of the walk into the muck that flowed slowly by them.

An ominously high-pitched cackle of crony laughter began echoing from seemingly all around them.
"Whadda we 'ave 'ere?" came a voice from somewhere in the darkness. "Looks azif we gotsus some lost litt-ul mice 'ere wandered into Street Snake turf!" The laughter cackled again from all sides. A sudden light illuminated the tunnels around them, displaying a crowd of inappropriately adorned teens, tweens, and 'nagers, wielding all manner of weapons, from laz guns and razer knives, to chained spikes and nails through boards. The gaggle of Street Snakes stood directly ahead of the the trio. A light coming from a tunnel to the side of the gang indicated that their hideout was probably that way.

"So, wat bidness you lot 'ave with the famous Street Snakes, eh?" the apparent leader questioned, followed by a chorus of "Street Snakes Rule!" from behind him.

Sorrryyyy! I was mostly catatonic yesterday, then slept until 3pm today, then went and donated plasma so I could get my ESO account back online, then got super frustrated that even though they took the money from my plasma card, it "couldn't be processed" because it's apparently reading as a gift card, so now not only can I still not get on ESO, but I'm also out $15 that I could have spent on beer until it gets credited back to my account in like a week.
Also, the twelve hour rule only applies to players. So suck it.

Tunnel snakes rule!

You couldn't have posted this (today anyway) with better timing. I just sat down with mah Jimmy Johns on my lunch break.

Alan is going to try to not shit his pants in terror and duck behind Ty.

Fancy Feast wrote:

Alan is going to try to not shit his pants in terror and duck behind Ty.

When you actively try to not shit your pants, I hope you realize what happens on a fail......

Hippopoctopus wrote:

Fancy Feast wrote:

Alan is going to try to not shit his pants in terror and duck behind Ty.

When you actively try to not shit your pants, I hope you realize what happens on a fail......

Just trying to be realistic :p

Ty will boot up all integrated defense systems, ready weapons.

And probably try not to shit his pants, but that's not an official action.

I'd say Ty is a lot more combat oriented and considerably braver. Alan just wants to go home and jack off to some illegal multigender cyborg on washing machine porn.

If my internal apothecary is capable of concocting a steroid of sorts to boost tys reflexes/concentration then I'm going to make that and inject him with it 
If I any shots are fired then I'd like to further test my new body's capabilities and attempt to make and spay a sleeping gas in the direction of the enemy.

I saw the vent on top of the droid you drew and thought maybe it was possible but if that seems like a bit of a stretch to anyone then consider it voided from my actions.

profxmas wrote:

I saw the vent on top of the droid you drew and thought maybe it was possible but if that seems like a bit of a stretch to anyone then consider it voided from my actions.

The beauty of a game like this is that you can attempt to do incredibly ridiculous things/ pull moves completely out of your ass, and the die will determine if you can in fact summon a holographic army of zombie dragons or whatever you want to do; just know that the more ridiculous the move, the more dire the consequences of failure will likely be.

Turn 8

Alan lets out a frightened and entirely girlish "eep!" as he tries to hold his bowels at bay while ducking behind Ty to use as a human shield. He ducks too hard, too fast though (6), and accidentally missteps, slipping on a moist piece of brick flooring and falling into the disgusting river of bile beside the walkway. All manner of human and cyborg fluids fill every oraface of Alan's body, seeping into holes he thought we certain closed and/ or non-existent. "How ironic," he thinks to himself, trying to gain footing beneath the slow flow of feces and used condoms. He's pretty sure you're not supposed to flush those, but people are stupid. He feels some unseen horror slither past his ankle.

Ty smiles coolly at the gang leader and lifts his hands to show that he's unarmed while simultaneously readying his integrated ID-CS defense systems (4). It's not enough to hold off a whole gang, he knows, but it could come in handy should things get violent.

"Easy now friend," he says calmly. "We didn't mean to encroach, just trying to get away from some goddamned Lazer Sharks up above." Ty is well aware of the Snakes turf war with the Sharks, and hopes this buys them some sort of favor. He feels the satisfying click of hidden weapons locking into their ready states on both his arms as Alan dives headfirst into the river of yuck and he feels the prick of a needle on the back of his neck.

Gerard frantically searches his database for recipes to craft anything that could help Ty or hinder the gang in front of them (1). He finally finds something he's sure will help Ty win any kind of battle. Well, not "sure" per-say, but the name of it sounds promising and all kinds of sciency: "Ultra Nerve Agent 7000: Warning, never use!" Yep, that should do the trick, he thinks as he injects the serum in the base of Ty's neck, ensuring he gets it right into the spinal column.

Now, to deal with the gang--perhaps a sedative that he could crop-dust over their heads. He mixes up something quick (2-1=1), misreading "super seducer" as "super sedater" and promptly gasses the rag-tag group of gangbangers. Wow, he was doing so good at this whole medbot support role thing!

"Whazzat you say?" asks the gang leader. "Bloody Sharks are on our street? OUR STREET!? Where they at, fancy man?" Suddenly, the gang leader's pupils dilate an extreme amount as the little robot sprays something in his face. He licks his lips viciously. "Ya'know what, fo-git dem sharkies.... I have," he smacks his lips again and advances a foot toward Ty, "other fish ta fry." Terrible laughter erupts from the gang behind him, all of their pupils becoming dilated as well. "Whatsay we 'ave a bit o' a rapes-'em-up, eh?"

current status wrote:

Alan: possibly drowning in shit (but without having shat his pants) with things slithering by his feet.

Ty: weapons armed and ready, but with muscles beginning to seize up. Complete nervous system shutdown imminent. Gang-rape imminenter.

Gerard: Entirely too pleased with himself for helping.

Oh god! What have I done  Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.

Hahaha hahah ahahahadhldjhfdafkljd gross


Ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence

profxmas wrote:

Oh god! What have I done  Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds.

Molag Bal would be proud of you, my child.

Edit: Mostly for the rape that is probably about to happen. Mehrunes Dagon would also proud of you though.

Noooo, Ty can't be raped by people with such atrocious grammar. He will immediately regret looking so good, and attempt to release an injection of medical nanites into his system to circumvent and/or repair whatever is attacking his nervous system.

Shit. Well um... Im gonna fling needles filled with anesthesia at the would be rapists.

If you fail your roll and fling meth by mistake, I'm going to disassemble you, repurpose you as a planter, fill you with begonias and give you to my gramma. And yes, I can afford real begonias.

Alan is going to overcome the voice in his head calling out for him to just accept the sweet release of death and try to climb out of the shitwater.

Well, at least no one is going to rape the guy that just crawled out of the shit bath.

Probably