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Casting Call; Unrelated...Probably.
Topic Started: May 22 2017, 08:46 PM (245 Views)
Nedben
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Orzic Nedbens

Alex looked at the script, spotlighted in the otherwise-darkness and checkerboard tile flooring of the walkway to a velvet room, dumbfounded.

"What." he said, glancing up at the floating Nedben, who was leaning on air expectantly. "Seriously what the f*** is this?"

He flipped through the pages and glanced at the pretty rainbow sword in the stone.

"So I'm supposed to run around shanking people to make them overpowered multi-adepts via Four Sword ripoff," he continued, glancing with concern at the sword which seemed to lean toward him with the unholy cheer and madnesslust of its creator who had taken the moment to get into Alex's personal space-AJIAOJEJHJ

What the hell Nedben!?
"What the hell Nedben?!" Alex said, jumping back slightly. "Don't do that. Ugh."

He returned to being annoyed by the script. "And then I'm supposed to use...those drones you hate, to harvest everybody on Weyard, so I can slap Mia?"

Nedben nodded, again encroaching on Alex, who was backpedaling around the sword to keep away from him.

"With all due respect, that's pretty stupid." he said, tossing the script to the sword, which it stuck to the flat of.

"How about we go back to the Minecraft Hell multitier-reality cringe bomb thing?" the lord of heresy proposed heretically.

"No." Alex said. "Being eaten alive by decay-fueled pain-inducing nanomachines and the Cthulhu mythos with subconscious pain-inducing hurts almost as bad as the stuff Mia does."

"Do it." he said in that commanding yet casual tone that indicated he was screwing with reality.

"Maybe." Alex said, parrying the might of God and a few other things, abstracting away some of it into deflected light to showcase that he was in fact resistant to the idea.

"Meh." Nedben said, deciding not to exercise cheats of authority. "Skyrim modpack?"

"No."

"OC fight?"

"Doesn't Tavi have restraints in place to keep you from doing BS like that?!"

"She does, but it doesn't matter. Now, OC fight?"

"You're not gonna get the attention to do that and we both know it."

"Ebony Dark'ness D(i)ementia Raven/Tara Way."

"NOOOOOO!"

"Okay good point that stuff's legitimately traumatizing. How about, uh, hell furniture?"

"You still haven't written up Katana's story there, nevermind the other edgelord!"

"Orzic Nedbens?"

"No."

"How about a recreated OSLT?"

"You had a whole war with Vanguard over why that was a bad idea."

"Good point. Blocky Cluster?"

"What the hell is wrong with you!? That's not a stable space by any means, and you still need to traction your FIRST project working on that! It was meant to be loreless anyway!"

"Hm. What about-"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! THAT IS ABSOLUTELY INTOLERABLE!" Alex exploded, smashing a giant bronze robot into Nedben while screaming "NO!" repeatedly like a terrified cat.

The dust cleared in a burst of warping, Nedben handwaving away various projectile weapons flung by Alex, having nosold the initial colossus.

"Custom arcana?"

"Maybe," Alex said while on the verge of crying, throwing things at Nedben just for his recovering mood and the sense of actually fighting back, "but you've never filled out a system beyond the basics in ages!"

"Back to Jojo?"

"You can't run their spirit, I'm serious. Too much thematic conflict."

"Fate?"

"Dude. Finish writing your first."

"No, the other Fate."

"You changed your word-meaning. Still, not a sticky lore."

"Geneforge?"

"Valerie what the world went dark for a second there."

"ShellCore Command."

"Not happening, I swear!"

"Gensmokyo."

"Only on Aeiou, where it wouldn't stick anyway."

"Yume Nikki."

"Safety requirements, kiddo."

"Screw it." Nedben said, causing Alex to sigh with relief at the possibility of conclusion. "Everything at once."

Authority. Alex contested, but was overruled.

"Now help me work with this." Nedben continued.

Alex resisted further. "This isn't a Golden Sun project at all. Does it really belong here?"

"Whatever works, kiddo." Adam said, appearing as a man familiar to Nedben but not Alex, his orange casting-glow giving him away anyway. "Honestly, Ned just does what he does and you've got to roll with it if you don't have the rank to pull on him. Flow with it, best wishes man. Now, shoo."

Alex shrugged frustratedly and gated out. Yay for exceptions.

"So now what?" the aura of orange said to the king of green.

"We're doing the OC fight." Nedben stated confidently. "Even if it IS a horrible idea."




Established space. Configurations. A void of blue and lavender, assorted periwinkles in patterns of flowers and code rather than the abrupt greyscales of old.

"Remember when the minimum for universe creation was two?" Nedben said to himself and the other five or six in there. He laughed a bit.

"That place really is strange." he continued with an air of regrets. "Oh well. No matter."

Hardened hearts. Impossible spacetimes. Stuff that shouldn't happen happened abstractly, conducted by loose waving around and thoughts.

Purple set the music of a village, but then switched to a boss battle. Genesis was a lot of hard choices.

"We can just call in the others." Patchy, the purple mind commented, reminding the main-head of its past work.

"Oh, duh." the Nedben said, flipping through some mental notes and alerting service crew.

Janet, Barl, Kaguya Fresleven, Marlow, Iael, Liebschen, and Vanguard flickered in, but Vanguard flickered back out and was replaced by Katie Allen.

"Right, yeah." Nedben said to himself. The assembled deities complained to each other quietly, played a few games of rock-paper-scissors, and soon only Liebschen remained.

"You and me again?" the Cat whined. "I know we're on slightly better terms than Vanguard, but this is ridiculous. You're being a child, this is the second time in a few weeks I've-"

"I know, I know." the drugs walking shot back, waving a hand to indicate 'not relevant right now'. "Look, we're not here for a fight just yet, we just had one with Alex. Right now we're in need of a little internal creative assistance. Showmanship side, not internally. You're thematically best."

"Of those who would tolerate it."

"Yes, that's exactly why. Call up the low end of the roster, you know the people. Get them to do some jobbing if necessary."

The madgod waved off destructive creativity and vanished from the place.




Liebschen sighed, constructing a sudden office space in the periwinkle void, working out a quick and dirty world structure and acceptable-temporary-ignores on physicsset.

It was gonna take a while to interview the lower end of the cast.
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Nedben
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Orzic Nedbens

"Alright..." Liebschen said, talking to the narration as much as himself. "Next up is, Avernales Infernisha!"

As cued, the hellnymph entered and sat down in the burgundy upholstered visitor's armchair across the oaken desk in the bleakly beige office space.

"So, hi." Liebschen said, tapping at a laptop and periodically glancing away towards Avernales. "As we all know, the story's a farce, and not even the funny kind. It's some unholy fusion between trying and failing to describe gratuitous fanservice for an audience of eldritch abominations that doesn't render well in the medium and simply keysmashing at every offhand fantastic vision with a chance of fitting together in an attempt to recreate the feeling of it rather than any real detail and failing miserably regardless, coupled with a plot that the author admits openly to being inspired at complete random with no sense of planning and minimal continuity, with all the cool stuff happening offscreen or being described as if by the lovechild of a godmodder with no sense of scale and someone with damaged spatial perception on drugs speaking in word salad who relies on the reader to fill in all the gaps in their babble. The only way it sounds remotely palatable is by summary, usually of the offscreen content, tie-ins, and rushed off-topic explanations that explain almost nothing and add more confusion with their references to terms we do not understand. And we live in it. With that, we propose yet another game to drive away boredom and pin down our insanity. Lucky for you, it's supposed to be about the lower-tiers this time around. Nedben's blatantly copypasted a number of not-well-done genre conventions and decided to intentionally make it so bad it might be good, then see if there's a second 'so bad it's good' peak after that by going full lobsterfic. You still wanna hear deets?"

Avernales contemplated existential horror for a moment before nodding yes, leaning forward, right hand over mouth, eyes narrowed half with inquisitiveness and half with squinting 'what are you on about'.

Liebschen sighed.

"It's..." he said, double-checking his laptop and suppressing the urge to vomit, "Pretty much one of those crafting videogame fanworks where they send in people, give them interaction abstractions for hyperspeed mining options, and let 'em at it."

"I'm going to regret this but fine." the nymph said, shuddering. "But I want to keep my profile starter equipment. And a good spawn point."

"Negotiation accepted." Liebschen said. "I'll hand you abstraction and let you at it. Forwarding now."

This scene would repeat with different people and slightly different terms, but Avernales didn't have time for that. She existed anew.



The server didn't even bother with a formal spawn or a starter pack beyond her bound inventory? Ugh. Hard, but nothing that couldn't be resolved by brute-force respawn-punching until she'd killed any aggro'd mobs. She opened her eyes and stood up, focusing the game abstractions around her and getting a good sense of her HUD. Degree of abstraction was fluctuating hard, yuck. It was, as the Cat had promised, a pretty good starting point. She was at the point where forest and plains met near a small pond, meaning she could grab trees while still having space and not having to deal with high-density land. The world self-aligned a bit, with the microlayer adjusting towards what could be described as 'metered with charm', such that the easy-break meter chunking alignments were more extrasensory and slightly malleable if needed but a bit of ye olde easy item packing could handle itself like bags of holding and easy-processing craft-magic. Simple words turned into technobabble, just like what was said earlier.

Well, no time like the present to get started. Channeling abstraction around her fist to assure clarity of blow, she walked to the forest edge and then repeatedly jabbed at the base of a tree until it cracked and popped into a carryable form that zapped itself into her inventory and left the rest of the tree floating. Apple wood, huh.

...Not sure if comedy, or lasting principle.

She kept punching, harvesting the rest and letting the leaves disintegrate into drops. A few apples, branch-sticks, leaves, and saplings. Dear Hecatia, this was gonna be a struggle narrativewise.

...Probably not a good idea to set up base too close to spawn. Might end up attracting griefers.

She planted a replacement sapling where the tree had been, then stuck in the ground next to the pond a few sticks to mark the spawn area. She could've used some of her neverending lamp oil supply to start a madness-fire, but that wasn't advisable as it might do bad things to the sanity of mobs and coplayers, so she created a more convenional neverending torch and stuck it in the sticks, a campfire denoting spawn. Perfect. She walked a good distance away until the turn of the trees hid her, then noticed it was still almost-dawn, the sun not having moved noticeably. Hell yes, a normal day length. No need to settle down that fast, she could keep walking for a good bit and according to the recipe manual abstraction throw up a house of logs and a basic crafting table before evening hit and the nastier things came out. Sure, there were daytime hostiles, but she had battle lamps.

...And of course, her broom! Duh.

She retrieved it from hammerspace, mounted, and took to the skies. Hah, she was practically cheating with limitless-ammo ranged weapons, flight, regenerator and resistance clothes, and an optimal setup right out the gate, but it was a shoddy fic by a shoddy writer anyway.

This might even be fun as well as cringey.
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Nedben
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Orzic Nedbens

Shrine of Ashi Ikra, Gensmokyo Capital World Spawn City, Northeast Outskirts

Congresswoman Mariel sighed deeply as she paced the terrace, her angel wings around her like three coats over the silver of her guild uniform aesthetically covering angel armor. The guild mergers that had united the Congress of Light into Gensmokyo had gone sloppily at best, but as an acting congresswoman of positive repute she had been elected into the expanding board for having organizational skills and technical knowledge direction. With the light having receded...well, the squidlike things of foreign lights and other creators were their best bet after the breaking of heavens. Truth be told, she had learned almost everything through books and minimal experience and her social skills were so lacking it was a wonder she'd made it to the Congress. Maybe it was being a buzzkill at parties. Whatever. She flicked a few strands of silvery hair aside.

The main purpose of the merger had been solidary against the upcoming World Recycler threat so that either force could move to the other's bases as the worlds grew more screwed up. She'd read about it in the lore, and as dedicated loremaster and librarian she had the best idea how screwed up this worldgame was. Strife among the administrative team with the proper owner advertising himself as an output-battleable destructive force simply caused utter madness in the lorewriting team, but the overall concepts were quite simple and only took a bit of mod-modding. Every so often, the Owner decided to shatter the main world and some neighboring dimensions into pieces and new dimensions and whatnot, then create a new set. This was marked by a massive destructive event that sundered the world, and promptly filled it with enough horrible things to render it uninhabitable, followed by periodic force-teleports and dimension blending that ripped out stuff deemed cool enough to save or that had struggled valiantly against his destruction long enough, until nothing was left and the world was left as a hellhole, perhaps decked with secret mysterious stuff. The first had been on the initial generation, and a few more had happened usually in response to major events, with what was left of the broken worlds fused to form several cool structures in the secret World of Horrible, in which cataclysms happened a lot and which was loosely the lore justification for fighting the Owner's creations.

This cycle around, the Owner had sent two great birds, the Dukes of Benefit (Light and Dark), which battled each other and when the Light was beaten into retreat released a signal that the next Cycle was on, prompting a mass evacuation into dimensions which historically had been ignored in these things and custom worlds.

She glanced up at the shrine of the woman in black, goddess of recovery from the unrecoverable and using dark magics for good purposes, and muttered "Ashi recover us..."




Avernales had found a strange little broken-down looking house, of which only a small double-door-sized circular portal labeled 'RUN WHILE YOU CAN THE END IS COMING' up against the wooden wall remained.

Well, no use waiting! She flew through and ended up in a world of giant forests, the portal against a wall of stone in a fenced-off and well-lit area. Cool, cool, the return portal was still there and had an off-switch. Nice. She turned it off in case the end really was coming (it flickered out of existence could be switched back on, conveniently enough. She verified this a few times for fun, then left it off). There was a house that seemed mostly intact.

Time to make some friends (or enemies).
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Nedben
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Orzic Nedbens

Patience of the Psychomachia had no idea what she was doing. A young woman in a light blue dirndl with the ability to make shields, evade strikes simply by waiting, and grant patience, she was an embodiment of a virtue from a lost world that had flipped upside down whose story had reached conclusion by simply being almost completely unwritten.

She channeled the energy of abstraction and punched some trees rapidly until the wood popped into her inventory, waiting to collect the leaves as they popped as well. Woo. Convenient. She continued walking and-

...She stared at the massive ravine full of rampaging beasts that a quick search for their abstraction-given names in the guidebook said should not be in this dimension period.

Probably not a good idea to go that way. She turned around, walked away, and as she went checked through the guidebook for what portals to make to places less likely to be screwed up by the Owner.




Atteson McHenry grunted, popping into existence. Blazing naginata at the ready, he confronted the fact-

Oh. Village, inhabited.

Naginata no longer on fire and now away, the village seemed to be packing up regardless, even being partway disassembled. A witch-like figure (as determined by her pointy hat) seemed to be directing the carrying of the last harvest and a few chests full of furnishings and posessions through some form of portal contained in a frame of blue crystals. Atteson ran over and immediately asked "What's going on?"

The witch responded on instinct "Sorry, I'm not interested in being part of a coven," before realizing who was asking, blinking and saying "Oh, hello. I'm Amelia Patterson, mayor of New Derppington. This is, ah, an evacuation effort. For the end of the world."

Atteson blinked confusedly. "Wait what."

"The world's ending, Owner's orders." Amelia confirmed. "Happens every now and then. New Derppington would rather not go with it, so as my magnum opus I've crafted a survivable, suitable, worldfrozen, and stable worldbook, New New World of Derp, and put it inside of itself to serve as coverage. We'll leave the gate open for a bit after we're done moving but once the apocalypse proper comes calling we're slamming the gate shut and the duplicate of that crystal on this side will be the last sign we were ever here. I might try writing a few more worlds once we're all set up later on, but for now it's wander in the doomed world or come with us. An old friend from New Navea Trading, she's called Danni Laurito, great investment-infuser-witch and dabbles in worldwriting a lot less than I do, sent me a portal book to her public-as-long-as-you-don't-grief-and-ask-before-mining stable artsy storage world of crystals she wrote called 'Glowing Stone and Glass' and she's stored a book right back to en-en-double-you-oh-dee for location pairing. You should be able to waltz over there and find one of several books back to New Navea proper. From there New Navea's in a pseudo-natural with plenty of space, and it's got plenty of craft-worlds and portals for weirder stuff. Go on if you want."

Atteson stood there stunned for a few seconds, but jolted back to life and muttered "Sure, sure..." before stepping into the witch's world between a few groups of villagers carrying things around.

It was surprisingly normal, empty plains with a few copses and the odd pond or lazy river along a batch of hills and other biomes visible in the distance. A few buildings had already been set up, including a heavily guarded town hall presumably holding the world book itself, a mansion labeled as Amelia's laboratory, a few newly-constructed buildings, and a few shacks labeled as holding portal books. Nice.

Maybe settle down and build a base first.



Rigel wondered why Liebschen had consented to giving his rifle infinite ammo without need of reload, then he woke up in a-

Holy. He immediately shoved his rifle into the hammerspace of inventory before anyone noticed. He was in the streets of a modern city, admittedly in an alleyway between a few skyscrapers that opened onto a makeshift market where a lot of people sold items and supplies, many of which were anachronistic or magical.

"Welcome to Onburryn Old Market, world Calamondin Twenty-Three, proper name Calamais." a greeter drone said as he stepped forward, to which he just nodded in awe.

Being from a post apocalyptic setting and rarely being called, for Rigel seeing a mundane yet bustling and not half-ruined city was still a treat, and the excitement with a hint of amazement wasn't artificial. He hadn't asked for money, but starting resources were good enough. His orders were clear: establish himself, maybe try and get the other protagonists or some people on his side, and most importantly: stop the apocalypse, or face absolutely no threat whatsoever really it was just an excuse to get the lower-tiers into existence again.

Unfortunately, Liebschen had provided little more than the base instructions every soul in hell who got upgraded (downgraded?) to being Neddy's plaything got for this game, and it was...silly. To be honest, he was pretty much just gonna try and get a big guild to get over the propaganda and actually try the fight.

Wonder if someone could give him staff permissions.
Edited by Nedben, May 24 2017, 10:32 PM.
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