Serial Killer Round 43 - Welcome to the Killtona 500 (Finish Line Reached! Race is Over!)
- Thread starter NeoAC
- Start date
So I'm still missing votes from a good chunk of people. I've been pretty generous lately what with people moving for school, and me getting drunk to go see a concert, but no more! If I do not get enough votes by this time tomorrow to execute someone, then I am killing someone off!
Forgive my lateness, but I had a lot of school stuff to do this morning while being sick, so loads of fun. Anyway...
[HEADING=1]THE EXECUTION HAS BEEN DECIDED![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Only one person was left to vote, and since they won't be voting for themselves, I think we can put this one to rest. Who will be next to swap their car for a hearse? Check the PMs.[/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Only one person was left to vote, and since they won't be voting for themselves, I think we can put this one to rest. Who will be next to swap their car for a hearse? Check the PMs.[/HEADING]
I wonder if there are any game related PMs floating around by now... The killer must be stopped! :O
Really feeling that love.
I don't know what tempted me to move, of all places, to a town called Murderville. It might have been a morbid sense of curiosity. It might have been the relatively low cost of living (very tempting to a poor man trying to pay his own way through college). It might have been a complete lack of anything to lose. I should have taken the hint. It's too bad I didn't have enough money left to move again after the killings and lynchings started. Newton's Third Law at its finest.
It's a funny thing, waking up early every morning and being surprised to still be breathing. Coming home late every night, expecting the street to be full of blood or fire or sharp objects pointing at me, only to be greeted by the empty silence that my little corner of the town basks in. If the paranoia doesn't get to you first, that feeling of the moment, of being alive, is something everyone should experience. Just as long as they skip the inevitable conclusion.
I've built up resistance to crazy over the years. So once the gripping fear for life passed over, I decided to try getting out a little more. Small things. Doing my grocery shopping in the middle of the day instead of at a time that anyone decent is in bed. The locals seemed normal...ish; but, it's not like I'm all here either. I somehow managed to work up the nerve to go on their last lynching. I even brought rope. People have been giving me more and more strange looks recently, though.
It's darker than normal coming home tonight, the moon and stars covered with clouds. Normally I would enjoy this darkness, but it's a pain in the ass when I almost run over someone's cat. Or that dog. Or that porcupine. Or that...I don't even know what that is. Must be my mind playing tricks on me after a long day. I park my car and start walking up to my door. I'm about to unlock my door when I see movement in the chair right beside me. Instinct kicks in and I kick off. Crouched halfway across the tiny yard, somehow still on my feet, I hear a person chuckling.
"That's some pretty good distance."
Only one person. A little soon for the killer to be acting up again, but I'm not going to stick around and ask them about it. Options. I need options. Like running, that sounds good. I need to get away. I need to turn around and run to my car an...where are my keys? Did I drop them when I leapt back? It'll take too long to try and find them on the ground in the dark, and I'm not much of a runner. I need more options. Fight? Against a very likely armed killer? Not smart. Buy time? For what, though? Damn, my options suck.
"Um. Thank...you?"
"You know why we're here, don't you?"
"We?"
Standing up, I can hear it now. Footsteps from every direction are shuffling and crunching against the grass and pavement. Things just got a whole lot worse. I might be able to fight off one person. In this dark, I might even be able to hide. But against people definitely armed and with torches? I'm well and truly boned. I might as well get as much snark in while I still can.
"Oh. OH! You think I'm the..."
"Little slow on the uptake, aren't you?"
"I have my moments. Exchanging a lot of banter with someone you're about to horribly execute, aren't you?"
"I have my moments. Get the rope from his trunk"
The sound of shattering glass to my left brings a wince to my face. Dammit, I like my car.
"Was that really necessary?"
A slight beep and a clicking sound shortly after, followed by jingling keys in front of me tells me that all possible hope of running, and survival is gone.
"Yes. Yes, it was."
Nothing kills snark quite like the irrefutable fact that you've been completely beaten.
"Fine. Just get it over with. What's it going to be? Are you going to tie me to the back and drag me along a dirt road? Get more cars and have me drawn and quartered?"
"Oh, no. We have something special for you. Tie him to the hood. Make sure he can't move anything."
Well, at least it doesn't look like they're going to be predictable. I just hope I leave a giant, bloody mess that somebody, I don't care who, is going to have to clean up. Fighting against so many would be pointless, so I walk over to my car, hop onto the hood, and spread eagle. More strange looks from the locals. What else am I going to do at this point? It's not like arguing my case is going to accomplish anything besides a soar throat. I know what they did to all the other victims of our misdirected rage. Now tied up, mostly naked, and three torchbearers on either side of me, I could see the faces of all my accusers. Not that I knew any of their names yet. The one that greeted my stood front and center, about ten feet back.
"Alright. Bring it over."
"It?"
I try to swivel my head around to get a better look at the new commotion. Some piece of hardware is being wheeled out to the leader of this merry band. It almost looks like a vacuum cleaner. But the hose is too long, too thin. And the end looks more like a pistol with an overly-long barrel.
"Um..."
"High-pressure water jet. Industrial size machines can be used to cut steel. This is only a home-edition, used for things like getting paint off a house quickly. But it'll work just fine."
"Joy."
So much for a giant, bloody mess. It'll all be washed away, along with the rest of me. The cats, dogs, porcupines, and the what's-its will take care of the scraps. I look up at the sky while they finish setting up. The clouds are gone. I've always avoided looking up at the night sky. It's always made me feel uncomfortable. Made me ask questions. Feelings and questions that I cannot put into words. No better time for that those sorts of things than now, I guess. The device that will end me is turned on, and I can't help but look at what happens. Leader points the nozzle at my bare foot and fires.
Pain. Lots and lots of pain. My scream pierces the otherwise silent night sky. I watch only for a moment, as the slow process begins. The skin is stripped away quickly under that much force. If only all my nerve endings were in my skin. The muscle goes much more slowly. Containing my screams is all I can do as skin and muscle are torn away piece by piece. Working slowly up. Leaving one leg in tatters to make sure my other leg isn't getting off easy.
I look up at the sky one last time. I can't see the moon or the stars anymore. Not through the tears streaming down my face. As the water reaches my belly, I pray to whatever powers there are. God. Allah. Thor. Flying Spaghetti Monster. Everything everywhere. Give me release. Give me something. And as the water reaches my internal organs, the pain is finally too much, and I slip into my beloved darkness. My beloved silence.
It's a funny thing, waking up early every morning and being surprised to still be breathing. Coming home late every night, expecting the street to be full of blood or fire or sharp objects pointing at me, only to be greeted by the empty silence that my little corner of the town basks in. If the paranoia doesn't get to you first, that feeling of the moment, of being alive, is something everyone should experience. Just as long as they skip the inevitable conclusion.
I've built up resistance to crazy over the years. So once the gripping fear for life passed over, I decided to try getting out a little more. Small things. Doing my grocery shopping in the middle of the day instead of at a time that anyone decent is in bed. The locals seemed normal...ish; but, it's not like I'm all here either. I somehow managed to work up the nerve to go on their last lynching. I even brought rope. People have been giving me more and more strange looks recently, though.
It's darker than normal coming home tonight, the moon and stars covered with clouds. Normally I would enjoy this darkness, but it's a pain in the ass when I almost run over someone's cat. Or that dog. Or that porcupine. Or that...I don't even know what that is. Must be my mind playing tricks on me after a long day. I park my car and start walking up to my door. I'm about to unlock my door when I see movement in the chair right beside me. Instinct kicks in and I kick off. Crouched halfway across the tiny yard, somehow still on my feet, I hear a person chuckling.
"That's some pretty good distance."
Only one person. A little soon for the killer to be acting up again, but I'm not going to stick around and ask them about it. Options. I need options. Like running, that sounds good. I need to get away. I need to turn around and run to my car an...where are my keys? Did I drop them when I leapt back? It'll take too long to try and find them on the ground in the dark, and I'm not much of a runner. I need more options. Fight? Against a very likely armed killer? Not smart. Buy time? For what, though? Damn, my options suck.
"Um. Thank...you?"
"You know why we're here, don't you?"
"We?"
Standing up, I can hear it now. Footsteps from every direction are shuffling and crunching against the grass and pavement. Things just got a whole lot worse. I might be able to fight off one person. In this dark, I might even be able to hide. But against people definitely armed and with torches? I'm well and truly boned. I might as well get as much snark in while I still can.
"Oh. OH! You think I'm the..."
"Little slow on the uptake, aren't you?"
"I have my moments. Exchanging a lot of banter with someone you're about to horribly execute, aren't you?"
"I have my moments. Get the rope from his trunk"
The sound of shattering glass to my left brings a wince to my face. Dammit, I like my car.
"Was that really necessary?"
A slight beep and a clicking sound shortly after, followed by jingling keys in front of me tells me that all possible hope of running, and survival is gone.
"Yes. Yes, it was."
Nothing kills snark quite like the irrefutable fact that you've been completely beaten.
"Fine. Just get it over with. What's it going to be? Are you going to tie me to the back and drag me along a dirt road? Get more cars and have me drawn and quartered?"
"Oh, no. We have something special for you. Tie him to the hood. Make sure he can't move anything."
Well, at least it doesn't look like they're going to be predictable. I just hope I leave a giant, bloody mess that somebody, I don't care who, is going to have to clean up. Fighting against so many would be pointless, so I walk over to my car, hop onto the hood, and spread eagle. More strange looks from the locals. What else am I going to do at this point? It's not like arguing my case is going to accomplish anything besides a soar throat. I know what they did to all the other victims of our misdirected rage. Now tied up, mostly naked, and three torchbearers on either side of me, I could see the faces of all my accusers. Not that I knew any of their names yet. The one that greeted my stood front and center, about ten feet back.
"Alright. Bring it over."
"It?"
I try to swivel my head around to get a better look at the new commotion. Some piece of hardware is being wheeled out to the leader of this merry band. It almost looks like a vacuum cleaner. But the hose is too long, too thin. And the end looks more like a pistol with an overly-long barrel.
"Um..."
"High-pressure water jet. Industrial size machines can be used to cut steel. This is only a home-edition, used for things like getting paint off a house quickly. But it'll work just fine."
"Joy."
So much for a giant, bloody mess. It'll all be washed away, along with the rest of me. The cats, dogs, porcupines, and the what's-its will take care of the scraps. I look up at the sky while they finish setting up. The clouds are gone. I've always avoided looking up at the night sky. It's always made me feel uncomfortable. Made me ask questions. Feelings and questions that I cannot put into words. No better time for that those sorts of things than now, I guess. The device that will end me is turned on, and I can't help but look at what happens. Leader points the nozzle at my bare foot and fires.
Pain. Lots and lots of pain. My scream pierces the otherwise silent night sky. I watch only for a moment, as the slow process begins. The skin is stripped away quickly under that much force. If only all my nerve endings were in my skin. The muscle goes much more slowly. Containing my screams is all I can do as skin and muscle are torn away piece by piece. Working slowly up. Leaving one leg in tatters to make sure my other leg isn't getting off easy.
I look up at the sky one last time. I can't see the moon or the stars anymore. Not through the tears streaming down my face. As the water reaches my belly, I pray to whatever powers there are. God. Allah. Thor. Flying Spaghetti Monster. Everything everywhere. Give me release. Give me something. And as the water reaches my internal organs, the pain is finally too much, and I slip into my beloved darkness. My beloved silence.
I hope this suffices for "deathing it up accordingly".NeoAC said:
@Twinkies: Indeed it is. Very impressive initial death.
[HEADING=1]TWINKIES HAS BEEN EXECUTED![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Apparently the tasty treats don't last forever and another driver is put down. But he was not the killer! Who will pay the price next?[/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Apparently the tasty treats don't last forever and another driver is put down. But he was not the killer! Who will pay the price next?[/HEADING]
Been a while since I've had to do one of these...
I will note that while 'schemery' isn't a word according to Firefox, I think it should be. Schemery: the act or practice of scheming.
Even suspended high above the racetrack, thanks to the use of an experimental hoverbike, one still has to follow the route like everyone else. No cutting corners or cheating your way into first place. I learned that the hard way. Got shuffled down a good portion of the places thanks to an attempt at shortening the last corner on the first lap.
Below me, fires had broken out, and the sound of repeated explosions echoed up to my lofty position in the skies. People were crashing out. There was a murderer on the tracks, sabotaging the race. Just as predicted by my (entirely metaphorical) brothers and sisters, my partners in schemery. I don't really know why I entered the race. Spectating is much better for one's health.
Hindsight, thou art a heartless witch.
A good portion of the racers had already been forced out of the competition, and out of life itself. Still I kept driving in an attempt to pass even one opponent. The slightly uncomfortable contraption I was riding was a gift, a foray into recent technological developments that could some day improve the lives of the citizens. More accurately, the short lives.
The bike's communication screen flickered to life: glancing down at the short message that had popped up, my heart sank. It was inevitable. Such was the natural way in Murderville. But me? Really? Whoever this person was - despite my connections, their identity eluded me - they needed to prioritise their kills properly. I am - was - no threat.
Unless... no. Impossible. They couldn't know about it. About us. And there isn't a mole on the inside. We know each other too well for there to be a traitor in our midst. So perhaps it was just dumb luck that I had to be the one to go.
A warning light began to blink, in the shape of a crosshair. Something was locked on to the bike's movements. Then more of the same began to show up. I didn't bother to outrun them. It was inevitable, and there were too many.
So it did not surprise me when the first missile roared up behind me, crashed into the bike and detonated with a thunderous roar. The hoverbike blew apart in an almost firework-esque explosion... and so did I.
I watched the televised replay from on high... and gave a minor curse when my body, or what was left of it, didn't even reach the finish line. One more second of acceleration and my head would have made it. Still, it was a spectacular way to go. Out with a bang, if you will. Har de har.
Below me, fires had broken out, and the sound of repeated explosions echoed up to my lofty position in the skies. People were crashing out. There was a murderer on the tracks, sabotaging the race. Just as predicted by my (entirely metaphorical) brothers and sisters, my partners in schemery. I don't really know why I entered the race. Spectating is much better for one's health.
Hindsight, thou art a heartless witch.
A good portion of the racers had already been forced out of the competition, and out of life itself. Still I kept driving in an attempt to pass even one opponent. The slightly uncomfortable contraption I was riding was a gift, a foray into recent technological developments that could some day improve the lives of the citizens. More accurately, the short lives.
The bike's communication screen flickered to life: glancing down at the short message that had popped up, my heart sank. It was inevitable. Such was the natural way in Murderville. But me? Really? Whoever this person was - despite my connections, their identity eluded me - they needed to prioritise their kills properly. I am - was - no threat.
Unless... no. Impossible. They couldn't know about it. About us. And there isn't a mole on the inside. We know each other too well for there to be a traitor in our midst. So perhaps it was just dumb luck that I had to be the one to go.
A warning light began to blink, in the shape of a crosshair. Something was locked on to the bike's movements. Then more of the same began to show up. I didn't bother to outrun them. It was inevitable, and there were too many.
So it did not surprise me when the first missile roared up behind me, crashed into the bike and detonated with a thunderous roar. The hoverbike blew apart in an almost firework-esque explosion... and so did I.
I watched the televised replay from on high... and gave a minor curse when my body, or what was left of it, didn't even reach the finish line. One more second of acceleration and my head would have made it. Still, it was a spectacular way to go. Out with a bang, if you will. Har de har.
I will note that while 'schemery' isn't a word according to Firefox, I think it should be. Schemery: the act or practice of scheming.
Well, I forgot to announce someone had been killed, and now Counter has beaten me to the punch....uh, let's just roll with this I guess...
[HEADING=1]COUNTERATTACK HAS BEEN MURDERED![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Add another to the wall of those who went down testing hover technology, as the Kiwi has been crushed. Who is responsible? Vote now with your best guesses![/HEADING]
[HEADING=2]Add another to the wall of those who went down testing hover technology, as the Kiwi has been crushed. Who is responsible? Vote now with your best guesses![/HEADING]
@Berenzen: Ehh. I don't really see what the fuss is about. Haven't had any dealings with Obsidian, myself.
@CA They've made some of the best RPGs ever, which suffer a bit because of a rushed timeline/lack of funds. They're best known for de-constructing and subverting genre conventions and are widely considered to have one of the best, if not the best video game writing. They were rebuilt from the ashes of Black Isle, so a lot of the people working there did stuff that that company put out.
So: Planescape Torment, Icewind Dale I&II, Neverwinter Nights 2, Mask of the Betrayer and Storm of Zehir, Fallout 1, 2 and New Vegas, Alpha Protocol and Knights of the Old Republic II.
Yeah, that's a pretty damn good pedigree to have, throw on the fact that it's an old-school cRPG made by the guys that have made some of the best games of that genre, and there's your reason why people are so excited.
So: Planescape Torment, Icewind Dale I&II, Neverwinter Nights 2, Mask of the Betrayer and Storm of Zehir, Fallout 1, 2 and New Vegas, Alpha Protocol and Knights of the Old Republic II.
Yeah, that's a pretty damn good pedigree to have, throw on the fact that it's an old-school cRPG made by the guys that have made some of the best games of that genre, and there's your reason why people are so excited.
@Berenzen: Only one of those I've played is Fallout 2, and even then I didn't play much. Kinda-sorta want to play KotOR II, but a few people I know go on rants whenever it's mentioned.
What does 'cRPG' mean? I've seen the term thrown around before but never known what it meant.
What does 'cRPG' mean? I've seen the term thrown around before but never known what it meant.
@CA It's a term that literally just means Computer Role Playing Game. It's a term that now basically means a game similar to those that were made around the turn of the millennium. So top-down isometric with either turn-based or real-time with pause style combat. It's typically very tactical in how it plays rather than having action-based combat. In order to accomodate it, the camera angle is usually in a top-down isometric format in order for the player to be able to see their whole party and make tactical desicions based around that.