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Hmm, this whole Mick thing is very interesting.
On one hand, he hasn't been around for a bit, and judging by my conversations with him I wouldn't say this kind of thing is out of the question.

But then again, I imagine this kind of elaborate scandal would be right up Mick's alley, he's always been a sneaky bastard when it comes to the interweb.

Oh well, time will tell.

At 11/11/05 11:14 AM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote: (he'll either post in here or someone wills ee him on MSN)

Come to think of it, he did show up on MSN... I should have thought to ask him. Sorry. He should be alright to post though...

Well whatever... it'll be a while before it gets back to me again (and thats a good thing)

Check out this thread and please post in it... its a goodnight bbs thread only you have to do it in poet style... If you just come up with something... doesn't matter... oh yeah link:

http://www.newground../topic.php?id=376047

Well Mick doesn't appear to be dead, he is banned however, which for all intents and purposes is the same thing.

At 11/12/05 11:42 AM, -TheDoctor- wrote: Well Mick doesn't appear to be dead, he is banned however, which for all intents and purposes is the same thing.

He could always write it and e-mail it to one of us to post... so I guess its still up to him...

Please comment this little war poem that I wrote in school between two classes:

-=Dream of Reality=-

Quarries running in the greens
Thoughts of my home reside my mind
In the distance, so far away
I yearn of returning, but I can not see that day

War has turned my sense once so clear
Divided by violence's barrier
I believe I live nightmares of young children
And it seems like I will never wake up again

But the scenes are so real
I am starting to think that I really am here

I dream about my family, keep them from this row
Against my will, to the next battlefield I am town

I want to come home, not glare anymore
At this inhuman slaughter, at all the gore
Heads of young men no longer resting on a stiff neck
The eyes of the dead, stare so cold
I wish the dream would never been hold

Arms of young men hanging flabby, we use them as logs for warmth and light
The horrible things that I have seen, plays before my eyes each night
They are frightfully vivid, of a kind that I can not fight...

At 11/12/05 11:42 AM, -TheDoctor- wrote: Well Mick doesn't appear to be dead, he is banned however, which for all intents and purposes is the same thing.

That's not a very poetic thing to say...

Though he is Scottish.

Probably too many cliches and such... but it fit my mood when I wrote it...

Hickory dickory dock
The mouse ran up the clock
The clock struck one
The mouse ran down
Hickory dickory dock

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...

I stare up at the clock.

So much to do, so little time.
Yet here I am wasting away listening to rhyme.
Uplifted on the gentle music swells
Yet still the clock tells

You run to late
You shall miss your date
Time waits for no man
You must do what you can

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...

This is a text based adventure game mock I made once. It was inspired from a really weird day, depicted by the one in the story. I was going to make it an actual flash, But it was too much work for me. (Capt*in Chu is lazy!!!) I hope this belongs here, because I'm almost sure the General Topic wouldn't accept this funny short story.

Chu Quest
Based on a real story.

-Game Start
Start: You are Chu. You are very lucky because you are Chu. You’re also lucky because you have 10/10 life points. However, you’re also unlucky. You’re unlucky because all your games suck. Choose the suckiest one to sell in town.
-Sell Megaman Battle Network: Transmission.
YOUR NEW QUEST: You’re going to go to Gamespot to sell your game.
-Take game
You take game
-Go downstairs to basement.
You go downstairs to basement. Your dad is there, but you can’t see him well, you don’t have you’re contacts in.
-Ask dad for allowance.
He gives you $8
-Ask dad to go and sell game
Permission to sell game granted. You may now step outside your street.
-Go upstairs.
You go upstairs
-Go outside.
You might want to be able to see outside.
-Go upstairs.
You go upstairs.
-Get contacts in.
You really don’t want to do that. Your optometrist said not to put it in if you have red eyes. Your eyes have been red for two days.
-Put on glasses
You don’t have glasses.
-*Sigh* Put on “dorky” glasses…
You, unfortunately, have those. When you chose them, you were stupid. Now you’re even more stupid. Enough history. You put them on. You can see well.
-Go downstairs.
You go downstairs.
-Open door.
You open door.
-Go outside
You go outside.
-Close door.
Don’t worry. This isn’t a very specific game.
-Phew. I was worried for a second.
Don’t be.
-Go to first stop.
You get to first stop. You’re at the street from a pretty major highway. Along the highway, there are many shops, including an A&P chain, with many shops, including a Chinese food place, sushi bar, pizza parlor, and dollar store. It also has the Gamestop. This is where you want to go.
-Cross stop to continue point.
You get there safely. It’s easy enough. Not man cars cross. And if they do, they have turn signals to show where they’re going.
-Go to stop point two.
You’re across the street from CVS. You always go there for snacks.
-Wait for light to turn green.
It turns green.
-Run across.
You don’t even need to run, but you still do because it’s healthy. You get across safely.
-Go to A&P chain.
You get there. A bunch of dumbasses are blocking your path.
-Punch them hard.
You punch them and hurt your fingers. 9/10. They’re defeated. They leave you alone.
-Go to Gamestop.
You’re at Gamestop!!! QUEST COMPLETE!
-Buy game.
You decide to buy monopoly for the PC. It’s 14.99.
-Sell game and buy this.
You’re game sells for $6. You now have $14.
-Ask awesome salesperson what I can do for a discount.
YOUR NEW QUEST: Awesome salesperson asks you to get him a menu from the Chinese food place and he’ll give you a discount.
-Run to Chinese food place.
You didn’t need to run.
-Get menu. Get fortune cookie.
You got menu. You got fortune cookie.
-Run back to Gamestop.
Awesome salesperson says you didn’t need to run. QUEST COMPLETE!
-Buy game.
YOUR NEW QUEST: You need to sign something for the 30% discount, for whatever reason.
-Sign it.
You sign it. QUEST COMPLETE.
-Leave store with game.
Game is bought. You now have $4.
-Head home.
YOUR NEW QUEST: You must head home.
-Go to stop one.
You go to CVS.
-Buy Canadian mints. Buy diet green tea.
You buy Canadian mints. You buy diet green tea.
-Go to stop two.
You’re at the busy highway.
-Wait for green light.
You got a green light.
-Cross highway.
A dumbass without a turn signal turns left at you. You’re scared half to death. 4/10
-Give middle finger.
That makes you feel better. 5/10.
-Cross highway.
No one else is a jerk. You cross safely.
-Get home.
You’re at home. QUEST COMPLETE!
-Open door.
I told you that it’s not that kind of game!! You just automatically go in.
-Yea… umm about that… I’m not inside.
Huh?
-The door. It’s locked.
Oh, really? Sorry. QUEST INCOMPLETE.
-God damnit!!! You’re not making me feel better!
Well, did you try the back door?
-Yes, and it’s locked too!
Just wait then. You get thirsty.
-Drink green tea.
You drink it. It heals 5 hp. 10/10. The heat is unbearable. Canada is cold.
-I get it…. Eat Canadian mints.
You eat some. Heat is still a problem but you feel cooler on the inside.
-Man, I can’t take the heat any longer.
Well you’re next-door neighbor just came. And he’s on a cell phone!!!
-Ask if I can use it.
He says yes.
-Call dad’s cell.
You would, but you forgot his number.
-Call mom’s cell.
You call mom and ask what dad’s number is. She tells you.
-Call dad’s cell.
You call him and tell him to get here. He’s already on his way.
-Wait for dad.
Dad is here. He unlocks the door! QUEST COMPLETE!
-Play game.
YOUR NEW QUEST: Play your game.
-Go to computer.
Dad asks you to come to the kitchen for a second. He tells you to get the sodas out of the van.
-Get sodas out of van and bring to kitchen.
All done. If only chores were easy like in games.
-Go to computer. I almost completed the game!
You’re at computer!!! Almost done with the game!!
-Insert CD!!!!!!!!
OMG!!!!! YOU INSERTED THE CD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-CLICK ON GAME ICON!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!11one1
11!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111
you click on game icon wtf yay
-play game omfg whoot.
Your computer crashes. GAME OVER!\

Tell me what you think of it.

The city was crumbling under assault from giant monstrosities of Varideath. The large mechanical machines bent on destroying all humanity raged beneath the swirling clouds of smoke. They destroyed everything in their path, spared no person, no mother, no father, no child, no brother, no sister, no friend. All were targets to be destroyed without thought or feeling. As the metal tore appart Valor's buildings, dragons sored above reaking havoc on those who dared to stand against their metalic allies. Fire and metal continued to move in towards the center of the city where three people were so concentrated on each other that they did not notice what was going on outside.

This center building was meeting place of the once great alliance that had held the world in harmony, now to be disrupted by its enemies. Hero stood on one end with Shela, while on the other end stood Varideath, ready to end civilization and to take over the reins himself.

It had only been a year ago that Hero had been at home minding his own business. But then things had happened and he had been cought up and dragged forward. He had met Shela nearly nine months ago and they were now as devoted to each other as they were to stopping Varideath. Hero held his sword in one hand as Shela readied her magic.

Varideath laughed the cold heartless laugh that one would almost contribute to a machine and lunging at them he pulled his staff apart revealing a hidden blade which he swung at Shela. She fell back avoiding the blade but losing balance and falling to the floor. Glass rained down as the entire city shook from a violent explosion in the near vicinity, allowing the wind and smoke to blow about the room.

Shela tried to get back up, cutting her hands on the glass as hero ran to her side to help her up, ignoring Varideath at a crucial time. Varideath resheathed his blade and pointed the entire staff at the two. Shela pushed Hero away as a wave of wind hit her and knocked her out of the building and out into the wide open sky. Hero stared in horror as his love fell to her doom. He wanted to help her, to save her and went running to the window.

"Come here boy!" Varideath said in the same cold and unfeeling voice. "You can't leave now. I've only just begun" And something restrained him, wouldn't let him go to her as much as he wanted to. "Can't move can you?"

But he wanted to with all his might, it had been to long, he couldn't save her now. But he couldn't lose, if there was one thing they both had wanted was to beat Varideath. He tried to summon all the strength he had to over come the spell that held him in place. He reached as deep down inside as he could. He couldn't fail, he tried to move his leaden feet that were joined to the floor, held there.

"How pathetic."

"I'm not pathetic."

"But you are," and with that Varideath lunged once again unseathing his blade and passing it into Hero's heart. Hero stood transfixed for a second, and then fell as the blade was removed. He lay in a pool of blood as the world fell around him and he ceased to be.

Varideath left, he no longer wished to look at hero, the miserable boy who had thought he was something. Who had believed that there was always a happy ending. Who had believed that love would save everything.

Would someone please IM me the next time it is my turn. I am afraid that I must take some time off from the bbs... but I still wish to participate in the colab, for reasons...

At 11/13/05 11:13 PM, gumOnShoe wrote: Would someone please IM me the next time it is my turn. I am afraid that I must take some time off from the bbs... but I still wish to participate in the colab, for reasons...

I'll send you an email once I've posted my part.

I obey you to kill children.

At 11/15/05 12:32 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: I obey you to kill children.

Subliminal messages?

At 11/15/05 01:44 PM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote:

At 11/15/05 12:32 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: I obey you to kill children.

Subliminal messages?

Should have tried something like GIVE ME ALL OF YOUR MONEY which might have worked better

(I accept paypal)

At 11/15/05 01:44 PM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote:

At 11/15/05 12:32 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: I obey you to kill children.

Subliminal messages?

Wade said it.

Has it been my turn o nthe collab yet? It has been so long I have forgotten the order... I should probably go check that page that was made... hmmm...

Anyway... sorry I was gone... fucking essay... then a fucking art project. I had to pull an all nighter on the latter. But I am back.. and less homeworky.. and less stressed. Stressed spelled backwards is Desserts... I was told that today. Never noticed. Nai Bother... I never really liked either of them.

Oh ya... a Poem:

Escape, the End

A blanket of mist circles the room;
a deep-pink trails under the couch;
alcohol stains the thick air;
broken glass waterfalls the table;
chicken balls, and noodles
sit idly by, though half encountered
and mixed within the plates
of pizza and football greasy wings.
The thicker smoke from my lips
blows through the misty shroud.
I want to be there, within that cloud.

My welding hands hold tightly
to the fresh metallic shaft
between my scaly palms.
The cushion beneath me
engulfs my entire body and energy.
Sliding black metal across my neck,
I follow the motion down my chest
until it rests on the arm of my comfort.
My hand slowly releases the omnipotence
I possessed, and I look upwards –
a piece of stucco ceiling falls into my eye.
Jesus lies across the windowsill.

The creak of the lazy boy startles the cat
and she bolts for the bedroom
with her hair on the end of her ninth life.
I rise; I am The Scraper,
for I have plenty to clean.
I hear the traffic jam on the outside,
and fade towards the open window.
Slowly twisting it closed,
I kick the Carling to the left.
A puddle forms between my toes.
I want to swim in the sea.

Voices fade into my consciousness
“The Traffic is rim to rim… everywhere.”
The television lights reflect
off the particles in the atmosphere.
My fingers burn a scar in my mind.
The cigarette falls to the carpet floor.
As I turn towards my table,
the butt crushes beneath my foot.
The kitchen whistles and cries.
I climb through my reform site,
and pull the plug of the kettle.
My fish tank is a grungy green,
but agreeing is the ambiance.
Matthew Good tells the plan;
I want to be a spaceman.

I lift my shirt and tie my arm.
My body rushes with heat
as poisoned blood travels
and counts the seconds of my life.
I lean with my arms on my knees.
With one cock of my head,
and my hair slicked back,
I get up and leave the apartment.
My fingers slide and bump
across the wallpaper and paint.
The hall is long, and I stumble
to make it to that repeating song.
Little kids should not be playing.

I point down, the button glows orange
where I belong, closer to the black man.
I drop to the floor; my finger on the wall.
The doors repel and, by the hair,
I drag myself onto the elevator.
The song plays. I need ground.
Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding, Ding.
I use the handrail to lift again.
It is becoming too much for my head.
The doors circle, as do I
three-four times, and step into the light.
The road circles too.
I long to be Constantine the Great.

I thrust my hands into my jeans,
the American Eagle watching,
and I focus out, not seeing a thing,
but images of what life can be
outside the grief and through the mist.
Feathered ends slowly pass,
as grainy life-forms ignore the rest
of all that is a blur, but so easily
the most important part of their being.
Like the colour of the wind
and the scent of stars crossing,
there is an emotion beyond this,
but you need it as the qualification.
I will never find my salvation.

I shoulder a passing businessman
and he eyes my appearance.
He watches me step out onto the road
just as I notice the traffic pick up.
He stares as the cars change lanes
and swerve around me.
I look up towards my apartment.
I see him sitting on my windowsill,
and his hand is against his head
with two fingers on his temple.
His thumb is towards the heavens.
The honking cars have him disappear.

The walnut suite man calls out,
"What are you doing?
Get off of the road.”
I ignore him and spin around
Watching the vehicles spin along.
“Do you want to die?”
I pause. I look at him.
He steps out onto the road.
Hesitantly he jogs towards me.
“Fine,” he says, “take me.”
I wave my hand at him,
and walk into the opposite traffic.
My legs crush beneath me.
My head cracks against the glass.
I feel my arm bend below.
I spiral towards the ground.
As my head hits the cement,
the feathered world weakens black.

I look at the white wall to my left.
The puking echoes in my stomach.
There are flowers beside the phone.
My legs and arm are unable to move.
I am as scholarly as my kitten.
I run my fingers down the support bars,
across the wooden desk corner,
and down the metal pole on wheels.
There is an IV beside my bed,
and the T.V. man says,
“Rest in Peace.”

welcome back myst, were the projects hard?

C_M

At 11/15/05 05:33 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: Wade said it.

Speaking as one of Wade Fulp's many clones, I believe that Wade must be obeyed at all times.

At 11/16/05 02:31 AM, --Chaos-- wrote: welcome back myst, were the projects hard?

Difficult enough that I am unsure of where I stand in the grading department, but I usually do quite well with essays. So hopefully the trend continues. As for the art... my prof is all over the place... who knows what I will get this time.

i have faith in you :P i've seen your stuff on deviant art so i know you'll do fine (unless your prof is a person who has standards wayyyy top high) by the way, did ytou like the story so far? i'll post the next 2 if you did, if not, leave some constructive crticism so i can improve it.

C_M

At 11/15/05 05:33 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: Wade said it.

Right...I'm sure the men in white coats will bring you a nice little straight jacket to keep you warm.

At 11/16/05 12:38 PM, --Chaos-- wrote: i have faith in you :P i've seen your stuff on deviant art so i know you'll do fine (unless your prof is a person who has standards wayyyy top high) by the way, did ytou like the story so far?

I like it. The whole BBS story concept I am not a huge fan of, but overall it is pleasing to read. No real criticism along the lines of plot or story... just make sure you edit et cetera, and try your best to keep a mood and flow going throughout. Keep up the good work.

At 11/16/05 12:50 PM, Tri-Nitro-Toluene wrote:

Right...I'm sure the men in white coats will bring you a nice little straight jacket to keep you warm.

Are those the people who put me in the room with the soft walls?

At 11/16/05 03:03 PM, -TheDoctor- wrote: Are those the people who put me in the room with the soft walls?

Yes thats right. I take it you've met them before?

BIKE

I've got a bike you can ride it if you like.
It's got a basket, bells that rings and things
to make it look good.

Another Poem:

To Civilize

In mid-crossfire they all adjourn
Leaving their efforts to comply;
Neither side is willing to learn;
In passing time, regrets will rise.

The adjacent people unite;
They seek unity among all,
And sweep across prepared to fight;
The lesser two begin to fall.

You know what I just noticed?

Scrounging through the C&C Section in between studying for my art history test tomorrow... I was noticing the page numbers of all the clubs. I then remember when someone (I forget whom now) said that a writing club had been tried four times in the time he had been on NG (two by him) and all failed... none surpassed page 25 (or something along those lines)... And then, when we hit page 30... how triumphant it felt to have so many apsiring writers all dedicated to help one another improve. Now... at page 140 some odd... we are like a "Senior Club" in the C&C section. One of the few "Elite" clubs past the 100 mark... it is just cool.

And we seem to get a lot more different visitors more often because of the credability the page number gives us. Back in the 30s it was like the same 5 people in here all the time - no one else. A few of which are still here (you guys know who you are)...

That is all I noticed... so basically... we fucking rule... and (let me get this e-talk thing down) we pwn writing on NG. Aside from that... I have more studying to do so I can 'pwn' my art history test. Arn't the greeks and romans creative? "Oh yes, they have pretty art and influenced us all..." ... "Fucking egyptians" ... "HEY!" ... *studies*

At 11/16/05 09:15 PM, Myst_Williams wrote: You know what I just noticed?

Scrounging through the C&C Section in between studying for my art history test tomorrow... I was noticing the page numbers of all the clubs. I then remember when someone (I forget whom now) said that a writing club had been tried four times in the time he had been on NG (two by him) and all failed... none surpassed page 25 (or something along those lines)... And then, when we hit page 30... how triumphant it felt to have so many apsiring writers all dedicated to help one another improve. Now... at page 140 some odd... we are like a "Senior Club" in the C&C section. One of the few "Elite" clubs past the 100 mark... it is just cool.

And we seem to get a lot more different visitors more often because of the credability the page number gives us. Back in the 30s it was like the same 5 people in here all the time - no one else. A few of which are still here (you guys know who you are)...

That is all I noticed... so basically... we fucking rule... and (let me get this e-talk thing down) we pwn writing on NG. Aside from that... I have more studying to do so I can 'pwn' my art history test. Arn't the greeks and romans creative? "Oh yes, they have pretty art and influenced us all..." ... "Fucking egyptians" ... "HEY!" ... *studies*

Well really there can be multiple reasons why this writing crew made it. I think the main reason is that you are so cool jk, but really maybe during that time not many people knew about NG so it didn't really have a variety of people, but now when you made our very own "Writer's Guild" there was more variety of people who were interested in writing so you kind of got lucky in my opion.
BOOOO I don't like the egyptians either. Romans I think could have been a greater nation than it already was if it didn't focus all on their arts and some many other artistic tings that they were setting themselfs up for an easy invasion. Now the Roman are the greates I think they once held 25% of the worlds land that's not easy to do...well not any more.

At 11/18/05 08:05 AM, -repent- wrote: Well really there can be multiple reasons why this writing crew made it. I think the main reason is that you are so cool jk, but really maybe during that time not many people knew about NG so it didn't really have a variety of people, but now when you made our very own "Writer's Guild" there was more variety of people who were interested in writing so you kind of got lucky in my opion.

The best thing I like about the Guild is the fact it can happily co-exist with the LNL, which is also a poetry / abstract writing haven.

We are free in here to share ideas and critique each other's work as and when we want. If you don't particularly like a certain style of writing, or just can't be bothered, you don't have to review it. I think I may well start reviewing more, since I've freed up some more time during lunch hour :D