DIR Return Create A Forum - Home
---------------------------------------------------------
Fall Of Cleveland
HTML https://fallofcleveland.createaforum.com
---------------------------------------------------------
*****************************************************
DIR Return to: The Collaboration
*****************************************************
#Post#: 767--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 25, 2012, 9:42 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Dude, that was some hilarious shit right there.
#Post#: 768--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Tabula_Rojo
Date: June 25, 2012, 11:41 am
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Giant_Neckbeard link ---
> Uni ... shows them how to eat the grass
>
--- End Quote ---
Great story Neckbeard I have a problem with that one bit I'd
imagine that most fluffy owners wouldn't wanr there fluffy to
eat their grass unless like they were too lazy to mow it, also
this kind of fouls up the idea with the astroturf
#Post#: 769--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Giant_Neckbeard
Date: June 25, 2012, 11:48 am
---------------------------------------------------------
Hence why I post the 'rough' ideas here so people can pick out
my errors, then I go back, re-write them and bring them back
again to get rubber-stamped or further polished.
Also, I cannot get the Static Cling out of my brain.
Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh why did I write that?
#Post#: 770--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: fluff_n_stuff
Date: June 25, 2012, 12:18 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Ginger: I'd like to know why I didn't think of a fluffy pony
show idea first. I'd also like to know who would think I'd be a
good idea to try to do such a thing live. It's a great story and
most importantly, it's funny as hell.
Now: Carnival games? Carnival games.
>You are a teenager from Cleveland
>You've secured a summer job as a "game operator" for Spaghetti
Land
>Really you just hit the button when the fluffy plays one of the
carnival games so that it wins.
>Your experience at Cedar Point from last year was pretty
helpful, but the interview mostly wanted to know what you
thought about fluffies.
>You never had one, but they're sort of cute, you guess.
>After a quick background check, you're just another polo shirt
wearing schmuck pressing buttons for nine bucks an hour.
>It's not bad really, but your job training was weird.
>Mostly it involved making sure that fluffies didn't kill
themselves on the games.
>How anything could hurt itself on these games, you have no
idea.
>Fluffy basketball has a ball tied to a string that rotates
through the basket when pushed. Maybe they could get tied up in
that?
>Maybe the nerf "knock down the monster teeth" could put out a
fluffy's eye?
>Hell, the most dangerous thing is probably the arcade. It has
an modified skee-ball machine where every ball scores a hundred
points.
>A fluffy could probably crawl up in it and get whacked by the
wooden balls, but that's about it.
>How could anything go wrong at a "Test Your Strength" that goes
off at the slightest touch?
>You also got paired with a fluffy companion to help you
interact with the customers.
>Your fluffy is a pretty pink pegasus named "Filly."
>She's mostly just sits at your feet to draw in the fluffy
stallions.
>"If onwy a big stwong fwuffy wud wing dis beww faw meh!" she
chirps as a fluffy and their owner pass. "Dey win big pwizes!"
>Such smooth moves from the fluff ball immediately draw the
attention of purple fluffy stallion.
>You smile as a fluffy approaches. The fuzzball is clearly
enamored with the pictures of an absurdly muscled fluffy flexing
and your pink companion.
>"Pwetty fwuffy wan me wing beww?" he asks his owner. "Dis fow
stwong fwuffies?"
>"That's right, Atlas," says the owner. "Why don't you ask the
nice lady if you can try?
>"Wan twy! Wan twy!" he says, jumping up and down. "Atwis
swongest fwuffy!"
>Adorable.
>"Only the strongest fluffies can do this," you say. "It's not
for weak, girly fluffies."
>At that queue, Filly jumps off the platform and onto the padded
catapult mechanism for the strength machine.
>The flashing green ball goes up about a foot, and clanks back
down.
>"It too hawd!" Filly whines. "Need big, stwong fwuffy wike
Atwis to wing beww!"
>You fluffy friend is a natural sales... thing. She steps down
off the padded mat, and smiles.
>Atlas screws up his face and starts stomping his hooves.
>"Atwis wing dat beww fow you!" says the purple stallion. "Gif
you biggest pwizes!"
>He leaps from the platform and onto the catapult pad.
>The ball flies to the dizzying height of a foot.
>"Uh oh!" you say. "Looks like some fluffy's not strong enough
to ring the bell!"
>You smile at the owner, nodding toward the price list.
>The owner discretely hands you a ten dollar bill.
>"Try again Atlas," you tell the fluffy. "I'm sure that a big
strong fluffy like you won't let a pretty mare down."
>Atlas climbs back onto the jumping platform and stomps his
hoofs, clearly trying to psyche himself up.
>After a moment, he leaps high into the air...
>Well, it's actually less than a foot.
>But Atlas slams into the catapult pad with all the force of a
wet towel.
>You put a foot on the win button, and the bright green ball
flies up the backboard. The bell clatters with a cheerful chime.
>"I WIN!" atlas yells. "Atwis am stwongest fwuffy! Gif biggest
pwize to pwetty fwuffy!"
>Atlas selects a big stuffed hammer, and presents it to Filly.
>"Ow, fow me?" asks Filly. "Tank you! Bu you keep it to wembeh
meh!"
>Atlas give filly a big hug, and walks away with the big stuffed
hammer clutched in his teeth.
>You're pretty sure that they trained Filly by having her watch
Betty Boop cartoons. She's just so good at manipulating
fluffies.
>You notice a green unicorn still over near a bush. He's been
standing there for about fifteen minutes.
>His owner is nowhere in sight, and he's just staring at the
flashing green ball as it goes up and down.
>He's kind of creeping you out. You radio for someone to come
pick up the lost fluffy when he waddles out of the bush toward
you.
>Filly notices him waddling up. "If onwy a big stwong fwuffy wud
wing dis beww faw meh!" she says.
>"Filly, we only do that to fluffies with owners," you remind
her.
>"Sowwy!" she says. "I twy wemembeh!"
>The green fluffy unicorn waddles up to you and glares.
>"Hi fwiend!" says Filly.
>"Shut you mouf, swut," snaps the green fluffy. "Wan dat baww!
Gif dat baw ow gif big ouchies!"
>Holy hell, you didn't know fluffies could talk like that.
>"Now that's no way to talk to a lady," you tell him, trying to
keep you cool.
>Don't want to lose this job like your gig at the mall when you
punched that creeper in the mouth.
>"I nawt twakin to you, munster!" the fluffy yells. "Wan dat
baww and I gunna take it!"
>The fluffy barrels past you and Filly. You take a step back,
and your foot accidentally depresses the "win" switch for the
strength tester.
>The unicorn bounds off the platform and ricochets off the jump
pad toward the ball.
>Just as his mouth wraps around the flashing ball, it rockets up
the machine.
>You watch in horror as the fluffy's head flies towards the
bell, and turn away just as the muffled clunk of fluff on bell
reaches your ear.
>It's followed immediately by a horrible pop that sprays fluffy
skull and brains all over your area.
>Filly defecates herself in fear as the decapitated corpse of
the green fluffy splatters against the midway.
>An eyeball lands at your feet, and you feel your corn dog lunch
returning with a vengeance.
>As you hang your head in a trashcan, you hear the whine of an
electric motor pulling up and the familiar voice of your
supervisor giving instructions.
>You look up from the trash can to see a crew has already gotten
rid of the fluffy pony's body and started cleaning up the scene.
>"You okay, Anonette?" he asks.
>"That was horrible!" you tell him. "He just jumped at the ball
and his head...! Oh god, the sound! I'm going to have
nightmares!"
>He kind of chuckles, and shakes his head. He pulls a flask from
his pocket and offers you a swig. You happily accept.
>"We tried to fluffy proof everything," he says. "But as you can
see, the fluffy's creativity in killing themselves knows no
limits."
>"If you'd like I can put you on concessions," you say. "Worst
you'll see if a fluffy choking on their own hoof or drowning in
a large soda."
>Food service? Ick. You'd rather deal with fluffy guts.
>"No, I can handle it," you say. "Besides, I like Filly."
>"Who?" your boss asks. "Oh, your companion fluffy. Yeah, don't
get too attached, they have a nasty habit of winding up like...
well that guy."
>He thumbs back to the now sparkling strength tester.
>"Welp, gotta go," he says. "I'll check back on you in an hour."
He hops back into the golf cart, and speeds away for other clean
ups.
>You look over to Filly, who is now smiling and trying to pull
in customers.
>"If onwy a big stwong fwuffy wud wing dis beww faw meh!" she
says, sashaying around the midway.
>If an adorable little pegasus fluffy can get over it so
quickly, so can you. You and Filly are a team, and you're in
this together.
#Post#: 771--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 25, 2012, 12:34 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Fluffy booth babes. You're a genius, Vanner. Great story.
#Post#: 772--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: PhilSrobeighn
Date: June 25, 2012, 1:55 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
;D That was so awes. While L.A. is right and Filly was a
great idea, I really liked the response time on dealing with the
death cleanup; it's inspiring me to write a story based on the
disclaimer in MarcusMaximus's ad. Some quick-talking cool shift
manager speaking quickly in legaleese pretty much reitterating
the disclaimer and encouraging the purchase of a replacement
"and quickly, so your children won't know." Not that anyone
else similarly inspired shouldn't take that up, as I've written
Spaghetti Land pieces and really should concentrate on current
phase stuff.
Also, Vanner, after your request, are you going to make some art
for this? (Personally I'm hoping for Atlas with a hammer in his
teeth and a swooning Filly, but that's just me.)
#Post#: 773--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Mayclore
Date: June 25, 2012, 3:18 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
GUESS WHO'S ANNOYED AGAIN
>You are the commander of an M1A2 Abrams.
>Through your optics, you look over the battlefield.
>Afghanistan? Nope.
>Your four-tank platoon is parked on the Innerbelt Bridge, the
part of I-90 that goes over the Cuyahoga.
>You can see Progressive Field across the river.
>It, like the rest of the city, is a wreck.
>In a perfect world, this bridge would not actually be here
right now.
>Most of the bridges in Cleveland have been destroyed to prevent
the fluffy plague from escaping.
>Unfortunately, all the loud noises caused them to try fleeing
anyway.
>Their corpses have choked the river system, and now the area is
flooding with a fetid brew of dead ponies and their unbelievably
foul feces.
>Northern Command changed their strategy; since the fluffies
weren't bothering to use the bridges, no point in blowing them
up anymore.
>All the four lane bridges, like this one, and the Carnegie
Avenue Bridge half a klick north and west of you, were spared
bombing.
>You're currently engaged in what 1st Armored Division calls a
'leak plugging' watch.
>The four vehicles in your platoon are tasked with stopping any
attempt by the fluffy ponies to escape the rising waters by
using this bridge.
>Backing you up are four Stryker Mobile Gun Systems from 3rd
Battallion, 41st Infantry Regiment, one of the Army's Stryker
Brigade Combat Teams.
>You continue to look around for activity.
>”Damn, this is boring.”
>That would be your gunner complaining, as usual.
“I'd rather be deployed here than a place where the enemy
actually shoots back.”
>That shuts him up, at least for a second.
>”Can't we just drive in there and run over the fucking things?”
>There's not enough oil in Saudi Arabia to power this tank long
enough to run over nine-plus million fluffy ponies.
>On the radio, you hear the platoon commander, a Second
Lieutenant right out of West Point, ask for a report.
“No targets in sight on I-90.”
>A few moments later, you hear that the tanks on Carnegie Avenue
are engaging fluffies.
>You look through the optics again.
>Sure enough, a multicolored, living glacier is slowly making
its way toward your position.
>”Man, I wanna go home.”
“Stop flapping your lips and get the sights on those ponies.”
>With a groan, the gunner begins actually doing his job.
>A white fluffy pony with a rainbow mane catches your attention.
>It's at the head of the pack; perhaps it's the leader.
“You see that one with the rainbow hair?”
>”Yeah, got the reticle on him now.”
>You call down to the loader.
“Canister.”
>He grabs a shell off the rack, pushes it into the open breech
with his fist, then closes the breech block.
>”Round up!” he yells back.
>You belay giving the command to fire until the fuzzy blob
closes the distance a bit more.
>You can't use high explosive, you might damage the bridge.
>Instead, the loader's put an M1028 into the gun.
>They're just about to begin crossing the bridge, almost two
hundred meters away.
>Close enough.
“Fire!”
>The tank rocks as the gunner fires the gun, producing a solid
thunk that vibrates both you and your crew.
>You watch through the optics.
>The fluffies barely have time to react to the noise, panicking
and running in frightened circles.
>A large chunk of them suddenly disappear into a red cloud.
>The round just fired is a fragmenting canister full of over a
thousand tungsten balls, ten millimeters in diameter.
>They fan out into a cone as they fly at a thousand meters a
second.
>They could go through a Humvee; fluffy ponies offer barely more
resistance than air.
>You detect three more thunks as the other tanks in your platoon
fire.
>The fluffies are terrified, but they seem unwilling to go back.
>Probably scared of drowning. They've surely seen the piles of
corpses in the rivers.
>You can see them talking as they run around helplessly, but
you've no idea what they're saying.
>Doesn't matter; time to shut a few more of them up permanently.
“Canister!”
>The round goes into the gun. The gunner picks a distinctive
fluffy.
>The gun goes thunk, and that fluffy, along with several hundred
of its friends, ceases to be.
>The dumb little bastards have no idea what's happening.
>Instead of turning away from the loud noises and the bloody
smears that used to be other fluffies, they run at full speed
toward your platoon.
“Fire at will!”
>You hear smaller reports as the Strykers begin firing their
105s.
>They too have canister rounds, a design hastily scaled down
from the 120s your tank uses.
>Each time you hear a gun go off, you see a cloud of red tear
through the massive herd.
>They don't have any idea what to do, so they run.
>They're still coming.
>You cannot fire fast enough.
“We're gonna get overwhelmed!”
>You hear the Lieutenant call brigade headquarters for support.
>They call back and grant it.
“Driver, reverse. Gunner, keep firing.”
>Your tank platoon begins to retreat slowly, still shooting.
>The Strykers, having automatically loaded cannons, provide
'covering' fire while you move.
>You're backing up because you don't want to die in the upcoming
fire.
>As you move, you decide to open the hatch and get a good view
of the show.
>Fluff ponies are backed up forever on the other side of the
river.
>It takes about ten minutes before you see the F-16s coming from
the south.
>By now, everyone's backed way up, including the Strykers.
You're at least three hundred meters from the bridge.
>With the loud noises having stopped, the fluffies are confident
enough to try crossing the bridge in an orderly fashion.
>They stream across just as the F-16s drop their payload.
>The Mark 77 bombs plow into the fluffy clump and detonate.
>A few fluffies go flying through the air. They're the lucky
ones.
>The rest are engulfed in a mixture of kerosene, white
phosphorus, and a classified oxidizing agent.
>They burst into flames immediately.
>You watch them burn through a pair of binoculars.
>You can just barely hear the pops of exploding fluffy ponies.
>Even some of the Stryker crews have gotten out to watch.
>The fire is what finally breaks the will of the herd to press
on; you can see the ones in the back start waddling quickly back
into the city.
>They've decided drowning is better than catching on fire.
>You all stick around to make sure the fire doesn't get too far
out of control.
>The flames exhaust the screaming, crying fuel fairly quickly.
>It's not windy, but you check for floating embers, as well as
damage to the bridge.
>Doesn't look too bad, at least not from here.
>Maybe the stench of burned fluffy flesh will keep them from
trying to cross here again.
>Actually, it kind of smells like an MRE, and you're hungry.
>You duck back into the turret and ask the loader where he's
stowed them.
#Post#: 774--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: fluff_n_stuff
Date: June 25, 2012, 3:22 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Phil Srobeighn link ---
>
> ;D That was so awes. While L.A. is right and Filly was a
great idea, I really liked the response time on dealing with the
death cleanup; it's inspiring me to write a story based on the
disclaimer in MarcusMaximus's ad. Some quick-talking cool shift
manager speaking quickly in legaleese pretty much reitterating
the disclaimer and encouraging the purchase of a replacement
"and quickly, so your children won't know." Not that anyone
else similarly inspired shouldn't take that up, as I've written
Spaghetti Land pieces and really should concentrate on current
phase stuff.
>
> Also, Vanner, after your request, are you going to make some
art for this? (Personally I'm hoping for Atlas with a hammer in
his teeth and a swooning Filly, but that's just me.)
>
--- End Quote ---
I think I'll go with Anonette and filly standing there all smug
as the owner and Atlas walk away.
--- Quote from: Mayclore link ---
>
> GUESS WHO'S ANNOYED AGAIN
>
--- End Quote ---
Heh... Canister rounds are awesome fun.
#Post#: 775--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Lord Anubis
Date: June 25, 2012, 3:26 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Man, whatever keeps pissing you off, it's bringing out some
quality stuff.
#Post#: 776--------------------------------------------------
Re: Story Bits
DIR By: Mayclore
Date: June 25, 2012, 3:41 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
--- Quote from: Lord Anubis link ---
>
> Man, whatever keeps pissing you off, it's bringing out some
quality stuff.
>
--- End Quote ---
I WILL KILL EVERY FLUFFY IN CLEVELAND MYSELF IF I HAVE TO...nah.
Concurrently, I'm writing a super-sappy chapter of Sunny
Gardens, so my annoyance seeps in both directions, I guess.
From the visual aid department, these are the sights and sounds
of loading and firing the gun of an Abrams. The video is kind
of loud, so a warning to headphone users. The rounds being
loaded are kinetic energy penetrators, which are basically
massive uranium darts. The guy you barely see at the right is
the gunner. The commander is above and to the right of the
loader, and the driver is farther in front in the hull, under
the gun.
HTML http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ns5NJVa_XKo
*****************************************************
Page 18 of 55
DIR Previous Page
DIR Next Page