The Gang of Five
The forum will have some maintenance done in the next couple of months. We have also made a decision concerning AI art in the art section.


Please see this post for more details.

Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.


Messages - LoyfeCycleProtector

Pages: 1 2 3 4 ... 38
21
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: February 28, 2020, 10:23:47 PM »
Diddy scratched his head to pretend to look bashful and cute. It was a trick that had wooed Diddy many times and for the moment still worked on Junior. "Aww, we don't have anything fancy like that on kong island. We just barely opened a mail office. We get our letters sent in via seagull delivery-- we're a bit behind on the times." He titled his head thoughtfully. "Although sometimes we have little mini plays during our island Luau's. Mostly ad libbed stuff to entertain friends: most kongs don't have the patience to memorize a script."
Junior simply nodded, his eyes on his pizza and looking lost in thought.

---
"Hey there, Mr. Stripetail," Usso sighed, rubbing his temples. "I'm calling from my room on the Spire. I, uh... well... is there anyone on the ship trained in psychology? Anyone with therapy training? I used to see one pretty regularly back at Casarellia to, uh, work through some stuff." He paused, looking at a picture he had on the dresser. It was a picture of him, the Shrike Team, Mrs. Marbet, and Oliver. Not counting himself, Mrs. Marbet was the only person in the picture who wasn't killed in the war. "I could really use something like that now. Do you know anyone I could talk to, maybe?"

---

From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien, April 26th, 1998

Today, we took a look at Type-0’s completed computer simulated model. The Chariot, The Hangedman, The Fool, Death, The Sun, and The Hermit were all monstrous. This one looked… it looked human. Not a ghoul, or a gargoyle, or a spider… a fairly normal human. With a few exceptions: it would have horns, and its hands and feet have expanded but reduced digits.
And there’s something else… something we never could have predicted from the gene structure alone. If this computer model is correct, it’s brain structure… It’s unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. We don’t know exactly what it would mean if it were made, but we have a hunch. A world-shattering hunch. It may actually be far too dangerous for us to ever attempt to fully create—we may need to simply used simulated model for some of the data. I hate that thought. Simulated data can’t compare to real data.

Our simulation of its brother strain, Type-0000, is woefully incomplete. We can’t even produce an image of what it would look like. But we have similar questions about its brain structure. It’s funny, it’s… almost breathtaking to think of the implications if these hunches  of our are correct. Type-0 and Type-0000 wouldn’t just be monsters like the others. They’d be capable of feats undreamed of save for humanities wildest fantasies.

I asked all those present if I could name Type-0 and Type-0000. The staff had no objections: while certain staff had more personal work invested in each of the other strains, everyone knows these two were my life’s work. The two keys: the support beams that would turn everything we’re doing into true medical breakthroughs. As had become our little tradition, I shuffled Sampson’s tarot deck and drew two cards from it, one from the top and one from the bottom.

I know it’s hard to believe, but I knew what I was going to draw before I even saw them. Many years ago, at the circus with my father, an old woman had done a Tarot reading for me. She told me everyone has a card that shows their inner being and outer destiny. She had me shuffle the deck, and then she drew the top and bottom card from the deck, and told me that the top card was the card of my destiny, and the bottom the card that represented my inner self. My life’s card, and my destiny’s card. The card of my destiny was The Magician. The card of my inner self was the Wheel of Fortune.
They were the very same I drew today.

I gave Type-0 the name ‘The Magician’. I never had a concept of luck or fortune, but I’ve always believed in fate. With Daniel’s own fate in my thoughts, I named Type-0000 ‘The Wheel of Fate’.

Tomorrow we shall see the Chariot come to life. God help us all, I fear the worst. Cyril and the others we've been reviving have already given me a share of nightmares, but at least, at LEAST they're still vaguely human looking. When that sixteen foot tall abomination in armor starts moving... I don't know how I'll react to it. I don't know how the staff will react.
For the Hangedman, we've selected a body to begin the genesis. A child who had died at a young age. Instead of growing the body to full dimensions and then stimulating the resurrection, we're going to do a full mutation at the corpse's current size and then allow it to naturally grow for a better data set. Assuming the resurrection with the Chariot doesn't go disastrously wrong, we should be able to get it up in a few days.

22
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: February 21, 2020, 09:02:29 PM »
Diddy and Junior both dove into the pizza without care or a hint of politesse: they were starving after the terrifying ordeal with their folks, and pizza sounded like just the thing to hit the spot. Diddy was a bit more generous about making sure the two girls had plenty of slices left over to eat as well, given his heroic upbring. Junior was a brat through and through and largely ignored the girl's warning about Stripetail having to pay. But even as the bratty koopa prince stuffed his face, his eyes caught something that Diddy's didn't. A certain...look that Wendy and Dixie gave each other that he chose not to comment on. But he stored the observation away, ready to ask at another time.

-----

From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien, March 28th 1998

Two days ago we completed our full-sequence computer simulations of formula Types 0011, 0028, and 8830. In the traditional manner, we’ve named them Death, (we'd already named The Fool), and The Sun. All are hideous, just like the others were. Each image to appear on the screen seemed to sow more and more unease in our staff. The first wasn’t… terrible. Death would end up being just a humanoid with gigantism and extreme upper body muscles, not too terribly unlike The Chariot, although theoretically it's physical tenacity would far surpass Type-27's or, indeed, ANY of our other strains: the thing would be damn-near bulletproof. The Fool is even easier to accept on its mere concept: it has sloth DNA as its basis and, sure enough, it looks just like a sloth. Simple, really. One only has to ignore the fact that it’d be as big as a grizzly bear, have razor sharp teeth, a ravenous carnivorous appetite, and extremely enhanced muscular speed to the point that it could easily chase down a human being if it so desired. The Sun is the one that seems to unnerve my staff the most, though. It would take the form of a tree. And one would think that was a fairly benign form for one of our sequences to take, wouldn’t it? Just a simple, inert tree. Not a humanoid muscular giant or an ultrafast, ultra aggressive sloth: just a tree. The only problem is that it would be a tree with a snaking root structure with a biomass that would exceed the total weight of five blue whales, musculature along its xylem fibers so that it could move its roots and vines like an octopus’s tentacles, and apical meristems with razor sharp mouth-like teeth. It would also have the propensity to attack living organisms like a more sentient version of a carnivorous plant, and given its sheer size it could easily consume every living being within an area the size of a skyscraper. In short, it would make Audrey 2 from Little Shop of Horrors look like a desktop fern.

Writing it down, it sounds almost funny. Oh look, a giant man with an upper body strong enough to lift a stone column with the ease of a baseball bat! An enormous sloth that moves with the speed of a deranged, flesh hungry tarantula! A tree that can infest every crevice of a ten acre area and eat anything that comes close! Are we doing lifesaving medical science here, or coming up with creatures for some Hollywood shlock film? I’ve had more of the staff turn in their resignations: it’s becoming harder to find the funds to pay for all of their silence. I don’t know what I’m to do if more decide to leave. I’m almost out of money. I’m… I’m hesitant to think what I’d have to do to ensure none of what we’re doing here reaches the ears of the authorities should more of my staff try to leave.

Soon we will be ready to finally create our first full sequence mutation. We’ve chosen a corpse with the most suitable residual genetic structure to bring "The Chariot" to life, and are ready to begin the procedure. We've already fitted it into the containment armor, and as I write, I'm reading an email detailing how the corpse is beginning to grow in size to meet the projected dimensions. We've flooded its nervous system with neurotransmitter antagonists, so the mutagens shouldn't cause it to come to life until the corpse's body has been fully mutated. At the same time, we're making preparations for "The Hangedman". I shudder to think of those abominations on our computer screens being brought to life, but it must be done. The data we'd obtain is too crucial for us to abstain from a full sequence genesis. They only need to be animate for a short while, and then we can terminate them. I expect more staff leaving when its done, and if that’s the case… I have a desperate last plan to ensure their 'silence' if I do indeed run out of money to bribe the staff. I have one staff member with an extensive military background and an extreme commitment to our cause...

On a bit of more positive news, I heard that yesterday they finally managed to resurrect a cell using our most important strain: Type-0. I wasn’t there to see it. I spent the whole day at the hospital, with Daniel. I don’t know if I will succeed in my quest: every moment I have left with him is precious to me. Even though Type-0’s trial is a massive breakthrough, we’re still so far from our goal. So many things could still ruin us.
His voice is getting weaker, but he still has that wonderful smile he’s had even as a baby. I tell everyone I can that he has so many of his mother’s features. He’s growing into such a fine young man. I’ve never been a very religious man, but last night, for the first time in my life, I prayed.
Please, god, just let my son live. Nothing else matters. Not even my own life matters. I would do anything. Anything. Please… Please…


23
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: February 17, 2020, 09:27:36 PM »
From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien
March 15th 1998
It is the ides of March, and on this day, we have brought a man back from beyond the grave.

The body we used was badly degraded from how long it had been in the graveyard, and we all knew that what we had strapped to that table would not be pretty to look at once it was reanimated. We did that on purpose—we wanted to see how completely the Chariot’s genes could resurrect its muscles, and the Hangedman its organs. We wanted to see how our sequences would function on even the most degraded of material. The subject had no family and had been dead long enough that no one would miss the body and headstone disappearing. It was missing an eye, and the lips were rotted away. The victim was balding, having left the world in his late forties, and had died of a stab wound, apparently from some long unsolved murder that nobody cared enough to try to solve.

I was unprepared. We all were unprepared. Seeing that… that thing that was once a man struggle against its bonds and gnash its rotted teeth like a hungry beast awoke a deep seated memory in my mind. The memory of when I had first read Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein as a child, and how the doctor’s horror didn’t spring forth until his creation began to move.
The staff were even more appalled than I was. Some of the researchers demanded we destroy it. I refused—as hideous as this thing was, as partial and incomplete it’s resurrection was, we had done the impossible. We had brought a deceased human being back into the realm of the living. Without hyperbole or ego, I can humbly say this is the most astounding breakthrough in the known history of medical science. Beyond a game changer. Now we just need to perfect our technique so we actually get a regular human being back from the grave instead of this animalistic horror.
He have a holding cell already prepared to keep and observe our specimen. It is, thankfully, not very smart. Just like the Hollywood zombie monsters, it seems to have only a simple, brute intellect. Yet, it has also surprised us in some ways. One of the first tests we did was to put tools in front of it and see how it would react to them. This mostly a practical test on our part, to better make precautions to prevent a nightmare scenario of it ever breaking out of its containment. It ignored most of the tools, like a mindless zombie would, but then it fixed its eyes on a pair of hatchets. According to the headstone, the subject had been a woodsman when he was alive. It took the two axes and swung them around fairly expertly, as if it retained some long buried memory of the motion needed to feel a tree.
Given it still has some aspects of its humanity when it was alive, we decided to give our subject the same name it had when it was a man: Cyril. Monster, zombie—whatever the outside world will one day come to call our creation, it is the first axeblow against the barrier of mortality that threatens to take my son from me. I will create a horde of monsters like this if it means stopping that from happening.

------
"He keeps mentioning a son," Joshua said suddenly, his icy blue eyes looking up from his reading. "And keeps bending all his actions to that one excuse of saving his boy. The man was clearly obsessed."
"Just keep reading," G said as he carefully lit cigar.

24
Role Play Discussion / Re: Insane Cafe 4
« on: February 17, 2020, 09:25:55 PM »
Hey guys, I'm back and about to put a post up

25
Random Role Play / Re: Ask the Characters
« on: December 01, 2018, 06:14:13 PM »
Bowser Jr.: H-hey! Keep it down, that's top secret info, aabicus!
Diddy Kong: What he means to say is that we're not out and aren't ready to be out yet for... family reasons.
Bowser Jr.: It IS a funny story how this all happened. Do you remember, Diddy?
Diddy Kong: Of course I do. It was at a Super Smash Brothers tournament. All the fighters there room in a mansion owned by the Master Hand for the tournament. For as long as I knew him, Junior was always a troublemaking little twerp in our home dimension--
Bowser Jr: Yep.
Diddy Kong: -- and he was an even bigger trouble making twerp at the mansion. He was always pulling pranks and getting everyone else angry at him. But he was always particular about it with me. He'd make sure I was around to SEE the pranks, but I was never the target. Then, after we had a heated match, we had a confrontation that ended with me punching him in the face. I thought he'd get pissy and hit me back, but he just looked genuinely hurt in this way I didn't understand at the time and ran off. I mean, surely he knew that was what I was gonna do, right? What else was he expecting? But I ended up confronting him again to apologize. And then things got heated again because he was being a sulky little pain in the tail. I said something that made him cry. I was angry. I mocked him as hard as I could for that, tried to hit every vulnerable point I knew he had. I was almost positive he was gonna deck me in the face for the things I said, but I was so happy to lash out at SOMEONE for all the things that were going on in my life at the time that I didn't care. But he didn't hit me. He kissed me instead.
Bowser Jr: You bet I did. I was smooth as silk back then.
Diddy Kong: Yeah right. He ran off crying as soon as he did that I kind of just stood there thunderstruck. Just a few days prior Dixie had broken up with me. She was gentle about it, but it still destroyed me. I was nearly in mourning. We had been dating so long that I was sure it was gonna be forever. But... with her gone, feelings I had had for awhile towards boys but have always hid kinda came to the forefront after that kiss. Apparently, Jr. had had feelings for me for years, and had been low key trying to catch my eye for quite some time. When he found out I had broken up with Dixie, he apparently saw that as his chance. And it was. Things kinda got wild after that, right Junie?
Bowser Jr: Oh yes it did. But... that would be telling, wouldn't it? Hehehe.

26
Random Role Play / Re: Ask the Characters
« on: December 01, 2018, 03:28:21 PM »
Bowser Jr.: Muhahaha! Guess what, losers? The great Bowser Jr. has decided to grace you with his presence! What a lucky day for you this is!

Diddy Kong: Yeah, sorry about him. I mostly keep him around to entertain the dinner guests, but he's not too funny.

Bowser Jr.: Oh shut up, Didds. Anyway, we're here to answer your stupid questions, I guess.

G: Within reason, of course.

Thomas Rogan: And that means no asking about classified information.

Joshua Graham: There are things I'd rather keep to myself as well.

Joseph Defago: Hah! I'm a perty open book. Ask away!

27
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: December 01, 2018, 03:24:11 PM »
Junior and Diddy high fived each other. "Alright! Let's get that pizza!"

---

The phone wasn't picked up until Usso was talking on the answering machine. He suspected that might be the case-- Mrs. Marbet had grown very reclusive after her son was born.
"Usso! Hello!" Marbet said on the end of the line. There was a sound of something being whipped. "I heard you were out on some big adventure. We've been so worried."
Usso gave a half-wince, half smile into the phone speaker. "I'm sorry for worrying you guys-- I'm fine."
"They're feeding you well?" she asked kindly. "You're not miserable?"
"They're treating me well out here," Usso said as he gripped the cloth of his jacket that lay over his heart. He had watched both his mother and father die horrible, violent deaths in the Zanscare war. Mrs. Marbet was the closest thing he had to a mother anymore. And she seemed to know it. "I-I really am sorry for leaving you all on such short notice, I know you could use my help with the baby around."
There was a muffled sniff at the other end of the line that made Usso's heart sink. "Oh, I'm doing just fine over hear," came the cheery response from Mrs. Marbet. "The baby is a big handful, yes, but Shakti and Suzy come by sometimes to help out. But even then, I wouldn't be much of an ace soldier if I couldn't handle one little kid around the house." There was a light laugh at the other end of the line. "Oh, but enough about me, I want to hear what you're doing out there! Shakti doesn't even know. NONE of us do."
"I know, and I'm sorry for that it's just... just a little hard to explain it all," Usso said. "But I AM doing well, I promise."
"Are you sure? I know you brought the V2 with you. I just guessed that means you were doing some kind of military detail."
"... Kind of," Usso said as he held his forehead. "It's just guard duty. I'm not asked to go and seek out anyone to fight. I wouldn't even want to."
"Is your CO giving you trouble?" Usso clenched his teeth as the response 'No more than Oliver did' bubbled up and he crushed it before it could leave his lips. "Oh no, he's very nice. Very wise-- I wish you could meet him. There's a lot of folks out here I wish you could meet. So many interesting people from all walks of life."
"...That does sound interesting," Mrs. Marbet said, a note of sadness in her voice. Haro had stopped bouncing and chirping behind him, noticing Usso's grip on the phone was getting shakey. "Mrs. Marbet?... Y-you're not, uh... Y-you're not feeling too lonely, right?"
It was a question he had planned not to ask. He didn't want her know how much he worried about her. There was a slight pause, and the sound of something being wipped. Another muffled sniff.
"No no no, your little farm is just down the road. I'm never really alone out here."
Usso bit his lip. "... I could come home," he said. "I-if you need it. If you ARE lonely. I know raising the baby alone must be so hard without Oliver." There. He said it. He felt like he had to: the only chance he had at an honest answer was if he was being honest himself.
Mrs. Marbet answered with a slightly shaky voice. "I-it is a little hard, I won't lie," she said, and this time she gave a sniff that she didn't bother to hide. "Maybe I am lonely some days... well... maybe more than just some. But I know what you're doing with all this money you're sending in. I couldn't ask you to come back just for my sake." There was a sad laugh at the other end of the line. "I'm not even sure you coming back would help, if you know what I mean."
A few tears fell down Usso's face. "But... what you CAN do," Mrs. Marbet said, her voice starting to break, "Is promise me, from the bottom of your heart, that you'll come back to us in o-one piece. Can you do that, Usso? And promise to keep it? I... I don't want to lose anyone else." There was a slight sob at the end of the line, and the sound of a baby starting to cry in the background.
"We've lost so much. I don't... I don't think I'm fit to lose anyone else. Please. Promise you'll come back alive. Even if it means having to run from a battle to survive."
Usso wiped tear that were now streaming freely down his face. "I-I'll come back, Mrs. Marbet. I promise. Nothing b-bad's gonna happen."
"... I guess that's all I can ask for. Stay safe, Usso. Call me if you ever need anything, I'll do my best to help."
"I will. Thanks, Mrs. Marbet."
"My pleasure. Goodbye. See you soon, I hope."
"Bye."
Usso hung up and cried openly while Haro looked on, puzzled.

---
From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien

February 9th

Vertebrate trials have been very stressful on the staff. We started with lizards, then mice, then bats, then moved our way up to primates. It’s not that the tests have been unsuccessful: quite the contrary. They’ve been astoundingly successful: almost anything dead we inject with these genes as well as a few factory cells to house the protein synthases will come back to life.
But they don’t come back to life gently. Both of our working strains seem to instill extreme aggression into any multicellular organism that is revived. The instant they come back to life, they shriek and snarl and try to attack the researchers with terrible ferocity. Given that they have substantially increased physical strength after the resurrection, this has become a serious safety issue for our technicians. One of them was mauled pretty badly. It has everyone spooked.
We’ve begun the habit of doing automatic injects with a robot arm behind heavy plexiglass. Thankfully they don't seem to show any aggression what so ever towards each other—even if they were predators and prey of each other in life—so we’ve been able to house many individuals together in the same pens. The plexiglass also helps hide the shrieks. And the smell.

We’re also preparing for the inevitable full sequence resurrection of The Chariot. One of our techs brought up a novel solution to keeping the Chariot both protected and less upsetting to look at for the rest of the staff. He has a hobby of welding together historical armor, and he offered to come up with a suit that would bind to the Chariot’s theoretical dimensions. Today, he showed me the final design. I wish he made a design that didn’t look so sinister, but it will do well enough for how little we planned to leave the thing alive. The gas mask was a good design choice—with how high its body temperature will be, its mere body heat could end up being an actual fire hazard, even when we have it completely restrained. It should at least be a step up from what it would end up looking like without any covering on it. We’re bleeding talented staff—as silly as it seems, anything that would put my worker’s minds at ease is welcome. Even a suit of knight’s armor.
I saw that my tech had also scratched out a drawing for something else one the back of the design sheet he handed me. Some kind of weapon. When I pointed it out, and he said that was simply a weapon from his own collection: a historical axe-like polearm from Russia called a bardiche. For how big the Chariot is, it would be able to weild it like a hatchet. He claimed he only put it in the design as an artistic flair.
I told him to bring this bardiche of his to the mansion anyway. Obviously we’re not going to let the Chariot get anywhere near a deadly weapon like that for the short time that we’ll have it alive, but I can think of a few other uses for it. It would certainly help in cutting up some of these bodies we’ve been sneaking out of the cemetery.

And, of course, partial sequence human trials are coming up soon. We can only hope for the best. I don't expect it, but I can hope.

We’ve also successfully gotten two of our other strains to sustain cellular restoration Type-6803 and Type-0028. It was a bit less exciting than when we had gotten the Chariot and Hangedman strains to work, but there was still cause for celebrations. Our techs all agreed that we should name them the same way we had before. Sampson brought out his deck again, and soon we had two names: The Hermit and The Fool. Since Type-6803 was based on spider DNA, and spiders tend to be loners, we gave it The Hermit name, while the sloth based Type-0028 was given the name of The Fool. I suppose we’ll run through every name in the tarot deck at this rate. It doesn’t matter, I suppose: the important thing is that the two strains work, and can begin invertebrate testing with spiders and leeches.

I haven’t been sleeping well. I imagine a lot of us aren’t. But while my staff probably have nightmares of zombies and the awful test subjects we’ve been concocting under the mansion, I dream of Daniel’s death. It’s the same dream, over and over, and each time its feels so real.
We must succeed with this research. We MUST succeed!

28
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 29, 2018, 07:48:29 PM »
Junior and Diddy hugged them back, glad this situation was well and truly done with. Hopefully, anyway.
The boys perked up when they heard that someone else was buying.
"Pizza sounds great!" Junior said and Diddy nodded. "Oh and, uh, in light of all the money we now owe, can we have our first check?"

29
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 28, 2018, 07:50:06 PM »
Junior felt a flutter in his heart, and smiled back just before the portal to his father closed. He was glad he had listened to Rogan—his dad may not always gel with how he truly was deep down, but he did love him deeply all the same.
That point was highlighted by Diddy immediately throwing his arms around the koopa and tearing up on his shoulder while Junior, at least on agreeable terms with how his meeting went, blinked in shock for a moment before worriedly hugging his boyfriend back.
“That was awful, Junie,” Diddy heaved, instinctually slipping into using the most private nickname for Junior he had—one he usually only ever spoke to Junior when they were alone. “Awful. I’ve never seen Donkey act so distant from me…”
Bowser Jr. hugged the kong patiently, wanting to make sure whatever he said next was said in just the right way. That was what was the one positive thing about moments like these: when someone was this distraught, they usually didn’t expect you to answer anything immediately. They just wanted to let the pain out.
“… So what’s the problem? That means you didn’t have to smell him!”
Diddy lightly punched him in the chest and chuckled through his sobs a little.
“Dork,” Diddy said as he kissed Junior on the cheek. He didn’t stop hugging him—he needed this moment of closeness to the boy he was so fond of.
Junior simply turned to Stripetail. “Thanks for helping us out, Stripey,” Junior said while offering a tired smile. “I owe you for doing all this for me and Diddy.” He looked over to Wendy. “And thanks for keeping quiet about us, sis.”
“Y-you too, Dix,” Diddy said, starting to get a handle on himself.

30
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 28, 2018, 07:16:33 PM »
Junior gritted his teeth, his face still read from a combination of anger and humiliation. Then he remembered.
‘Believe in yourself.’ That’s what Rogan said. Well, ignoring that sure as hell didn’t do him any favors. What more harm could be done than by heeding it?
He looked up at his father straight in the eyes across the portal—across the vast depths of space—or the first time since this dressing down began and opened his mouth.
“Whatever happens, papa, I just want you to know: I love you. I screwed up, but I hope you still love me too. That’s all I ever hope for.”
---
From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien

January 13th, 1998

The strain Sampson nicknamed ‘The Hangedman’ is coming along smoothly: tomorrow we will begin vertebrate lazerus trials. Unfortunately, the ‘The Chariot’ is still causing a lot of problems and will likely need a few more weeks before getting even close to that point. I’m not sure Daniel can afford to wait through all these delays… the doctors said he’s lost almost thirty pounds just in the last month. I don’t have forever to modify these sequences. They must be ready by the end of the year at the absolute latest.

As I had feared, a few of our staff left shortly us after viewing our computer models for the complete mutations. I quietly arranged for their silence and allowed them to leave. Lord knows, if my son’s life wasn’t on the line, I would have done the same. Nobody wants to be in the business of making monsters like these.
My benefactor, Caleb Goldman, has been asking a lot of detailed questions about my work lately. I always knew he had a research background, but I hadn’t thought he’d still be so up to date on current genetic sequencing techniques. He seems to understand my research better than most of my own workers!
Part of our agreement is that I hand over all my findings and formulas along the way. He and I have long had a history together; our two families have historical ties going back many, many years. But some of the things he says to me… What wound has humanity placed on him, for him to hate it so? As I start to see theoretical resurrection to turn into  reality before my eyes, the more I worry just what he plans to do with my formulas once it is finished…
Mr. Thornheart has asked for some material as well. Just like my boy, he has a terminal illness—what kind of man would I be that I would deny someone else the resources to avoid the same fate I desperately try to keep Daniel from? But I don’t trust him at all—I plan on keeping as much away from him as I can.  Even Caleb has tacitly admitted to me in private all the reservations he has about the man. His family also has deep ties to ours. I wish it didn’t. As much as Goldman’s ideas of humanity and natural order unnerve me, Thornheart’s ultimate motives are far more naked and far less… “romantic” than Caleb’s.


31
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 27, 2018, 07:32:23 PM »
Junior bunched up his fists, anger budding up as a vein on his head. He was angry because he was ashamed. Around Diddy, he was okay with showing shame. But in front of his father? His father always taught him that shame was weakness-- confidence was power. But he was also angry because he was hurt about being called a coward by his father. He spent his whole life trying to be brave for his father, and he knew that. How angry must he be to be purposefully choosing that word?
Junior simply nodded his head in submissive agreeance to the amount of money he was to give away. Money honestly meant less to him than his father's disapproval.

32
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 26, 2018, 09:13:20 PM »
Junior bit his lip and nodded, taking Rogan’s words to heart as best as he could. When Diddy walked out the door Junior could sense the distress in his boyfriend in wafting, empathetic waves before he even saw his tear reddened eyes. Knowing his father was likely in earshot at this point, he merely hugged Diddy, gave him quick peck on the cheek, and mouthed for Rogan to take care of him as he stepped in to Stripetail’s room. There was a portal in the middle of the room, and beyond it, the koopa king sitting on his throne. He did not look happy.
Putting his worried thoughts about Diddy aside for just a moment, he remembered Rogan’s words. And promptly ignored them.
“Heeeey dad!” Junior chuckled in an unconvincingly display of casualness. “What’s-uh… w-what’s up?”

33
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 26, 2018, 07:26:50 PM »
Diddy was surprised to see the kart restored. ‘Man, it must be nice to have magic,’ he thought to himself. All in all, he was just glad this was behind him. "Thank you, Stripetail," he said graciously.
For now.
After all, the lies wouldn’t stop with this, would they?
-
Outside , Rogan continued.
“I tell my daughter that phrase so much that she wishes I’d shut up about it some days—I know. I’m her father, and I can read her like a book, whether her lips are moving are not. Just like your father can to you. Love does that when you have kids. I swear, sometimes I wish I COULDN’T read Lisa so well as I do. Part of that is that she’s just so damn much like me it almost hurts. I can practically see every mistake and every bad decision going on in her head before she makes it, and I just wish I could make them all go away for her, because they’re the same mistakes I’d make as a young man. But I can’t. As a parent, it’s my job to let my child screw up from time to time, so she can learn from it. Just like I had to learn it.”

Rogan pointed his cigar at Junior. “Yes, you screwed up. And I can’t promise you that your dad won’t get the feeling there’s something more to all this than you and Stripetail are gonna tell him. Again, us dads just have that sense of intuition.
If you’re afraid that you’re dad is gonna see some part of you that you think you’ve kept hidden from him—some part that you think will make him suddenly not love you anymore—that’s YOU being afraid of yourself. Because I guarantee you, whether he suspects anything about you and Diddy or not, your dad has seen exactly who you are as a person this entire time, no matter what you’ve done to try to hide it from him. And he still loves you to death.”

“So yeah. I’m telling you to believe in yourself. Because you’re already all you’ll ever need to be in the eyes of your pop, kid.”
---

From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien
December 14th, 1997

Today, our computer generated model of a full theoretical revival using the entire sequence of each independent formula strain was completed. Our lead bioinformatics technician gathered us all around to see for ourselves. I caution everyone that the results may not be pretty to look at—these were, after all, only individual pieces of the puzzle of resurrection. It turns out I had severely underestimated how profound these mutations were in full sequences.

I had seen George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead as a child in theaters. That was just before the movie ratings system came into place, and I was far too young to have seen it when I did. The nightmares I had lasted for months. The chill that ran down my spine as I saw Type 27 superimposed on the screen was the same that I had once felt seeing the cinema’s first zombies on screen all those years ago. It was monstrous looking—a misshapen, skinless behemoth of a ghoul with abberant muscle tissue growing out in odd places like snaking tentacles. Bone showed at the joints. The eyes were little more than sunken black holes with glowing red coals in the center. It’s body temperature would theoretically be an obscene 250 degrees centigrade. It was humanoid in shape, but it was no human being. Not even close. The others had similar reactions to mine—they were appalled.

Type-041 was less Romeroesque to look at, but even more misshapen. Bat tissue had been the basis of the formula, and sure enough the thing on the screen looked like a gargoyle: a man-bat hybrid with enormous wings, a beak, and elongated limbs. The fact that the model on screen still had skin seemed to make it more tolerable to the staff—there were no horrified gasps, at least. Only a cold, grim silence. It was not more tolerable to me: I thought it looked no less hideous than Type-27.

Everyone now looked to me to say something to them about these creatures that we were all now tasked with creating over the next few months. I gave my best rousing speech to them that I could manage. I felt like a fraud. I know what we’re doing is unnatural. But if Daniel is to live, this research must continue. So I said what I could to calm everyone down. Type 27 was missing its outer skin—we had always known that was likely to happen, I told them. The formula dealt with inner muscle tissue, not the dermis. While it is likely that this… thing will need to be made at some point to complete our data, it will certainly be housed in something to make it more presentable and stable during our research. And swiftly euthanized once our data has been obtained. It would be no more than a very short lived exercise in practical application, something we were to make once, briefly, to ensure that it would never accidentally be made again in our ultimate quest to save human lives.

Yes. Phrasing it that way seemed to help. After the initial shock wore off, some of them even seemed morbidly excited at the task before us. One of our techs suggested we name these creations, and I thought that was a useful idea. It would help ease some of the apprehension the staff no doubt must have felt about our work after seeing these images. It was easier to accept something if you gave it a pet name, after all. I was hoping for something that might lighten the mood for everyone, so I suggested Batman for Type 041, which got a laugh. But it was Sampson, our mortician, who came up with the winning names.
He’s a strange man. He never goes anywhere without a deck of Tarot cards with him, as if he were a gypsy fortune teller. The strangest thing is how often his little reads end up being right. Obviously it’s not real magic, but it is at least very real intuition of how he reads whatever he draws from that little deck.
Sampson whipped out that tarot set of his and drew two cards. It was two of the trumps: the Chariot, and the Hangedman. I don’t know why, but at that moment, those names seemed so fitting, as if destiny itself had suggested them. Now, it seems they’ve stuck.

34
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 25, 2018, 06:23:31 PM »
Diddy cowered before Donkey Kong’s accusations. He hadn’t really stopped to think how much all this breached Donkey Kong’s trust in him. He really seemed to see this as some sort of betrayal. Diddy would have liked to blame his koopa boyfriend’s bad influence for why he had been so unusually careless with Donkey Kong’s trust, but really, was this any different from all the times he had been fooling him with Jerry before? Or the times he flat out lied to Donkey Kong to cover up why he sometimes spent entire nights away from home? Or when he had to explain away the video game noises coming from his bedroom whenever Junior decided to sneak over?
There was a lot of things he had and was still keeping from Donkey Kong.

Then, he had a sudden gut feeling. It was a very strong one. The hell with it, he thought. Why not just tell him? Why not tell him right here, right now all the things he’d sometimes tearfully rehearsed doing in his own head so many nights before?
Donkey Kong… I’m dating Bowser’s son. I’ve been lying to you all this time because I’ve been so terrified you’d never forgive me for doing that. I never wanted to have anything like this happen: please. Please forgive me. Please don’t hate me. Please say you still care about me.

But the moment passed. He kept his mouth shut. A tear fell down his face as he cursed his own bottomless, worthless cowardice. It was easy enough to explain away as him just being upset at getting such a dressing down by Donkey Kong.
In the end, with all the things in his heart he was afraid to share with the kong who was his uncle and his hero and his idol, he simply said: “I’m so sorry…” He wanted to add that it would never happen again. But he couldn’t. In truth, he was going to go right back to lying to him after this. Diddy clapped a hand over his eyes to hide his tears. He couldn’t even bare to look Dix in the eyes right now, he was so ashamed of himself. When asked about all the technical details involving money, he merely nodded to all of it.
-
Junior paced and paced.
“Uh… Mr. Rogan?” he asked, and maybe the fact that he used ‘Mr.’ was giving his desperation away a bit. He wasn’t in the best of mind to think about those kind of things. He was too scared about facing his father. “You, uh… y-you got any of that advice you wanted to tell me? To make me feel better?”
The battle hardened agent in the brown detective coat leaned forward in his chair as if he had been patiently waiting for his moment. He gave a gentle eye over to Wendy to let her know her brother was in safe hands. He opened his mouth.
“Believe in yourself,” he said.
 
Junior waited. Rogan didn’t elaborate. Junior leaned forward, blinking.
“Uh… is that it?” he asked. “That’s your big motivational speech? That’s what you think is good advice, old man?” he shook his head in disbelief with a jittery laugh. “I could have gotten a better answer out of a fortune cookie! ‘Believe in yourself’, c’mon. Who the hell said me not believing in myself or whatever had anything to do with this?” Given this was Rogan, he expected Rogan to level him a threat to shut his trap at that. In fact, he hoped for it. A nice, brisk threat from a tough male figure like him would surely do him more good than mealy mouthed garbage like ‘Believe in yourself’.”
But Rogan didn’t threaten him. Instead he just smiled, and lit a cigar.”
“Yeah, its thrown around a lot,” he said as he clicked his lighter on. “And I certainly drive my family crazy with that little phrase.” Junior tilted his head a little in confusion.
----------

As fate would have it—or as god would have it, to Joshua—G walked in through the doors of the Spire’s library just in time to see the two disfigured men about to start the book.
“Hey there,” he said simply, walking over and taking a seat near the two without being asked. The cold didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest, nor did Defago’s awful unmasked visage. He simply kept the same impeccably professional, distant expression as always. Distant, but not unfriendly: not unlike the Joshua and Defago themselves.
“Ahh, Curien's diary. It looks like I got here right in time.”
“That you did!” Defago chuckled, his spiky, black, otherworldy antlers swaying a bit as the canuck laugh. “That you did, m’boy! Mr. Joshua here was jus’ about to read from that there diary. I ‘spect you already know everything tha’s in it.”
G gave a polite smile. “Naturally. But it’s been awhile. I wouldn’t mind a refresher, if Joshua wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Joshua replied, opening the book."I gather that you and Rogan have already done your fair share of work in retrieving this diary in the first place, if the things I've heard about your Curien Mansion case are correct."
“I recommend starting at the middle,” G said before the burned man could start reading. “The things pertaining to the formula start to become important about midway through the diary, as I recall.”
Joshua nodded his bandaged head. The light from the library was mild, even as Defago’s monstrous presence warped the air around them into a more blueish hue. The decorative etchings on the bookshelves were exquisite. A fireplace, guarded behind plexiglass for obvious reasons, provided a small little pocket of warmth among Defago’s cold. It was a splendid little environment to hear a story. Joshua cleared his throat and read the entry he happened to open up on.
-

From the Diary of Dr. Roy Curien
October 6th, 1997

I must have been the last to hear about it—I was busy making arrangements with DBR for new incubators to be delivered to us. Sophia rushed into my office on the top floor of the mansion and bade me to hurry down into the lab below. I knew were conducting our first round of preliminary regeneration experiments, but I had never expected any of them to work, let alone work so very quickly. I raced down to see all my researchers had gathered around the screen.
The video footage from under one of the microscopes was being played back for all of us. I had to see the results with my own eyes to believe it. Some of the staff cheered: maybe I was one of them, I honestly can’t remember, I was so happy! We had done it! We did the impossible: we broke the barrier between life and death. We had resurrected cellular life.
Only two of our strains worked, but this was merely a preliminary run to start with. We hadn’t expected results this profound this quickly from ANY of our formulas. And if Types 27 and 041 could do it, so could the others.

Once some of the excitement died down, questions began to be raised: now that we knew these genes worked as lazerus vectors as recombinants—and worked damn well— what would they do in whole sequences? We will eventually need to find out. Our ultimate goal is the repair of dead tissue in a living human—recombinants have a nasty habit of, well, recombining. A serum meant to heal someone that instead completely altered their DNA would hardly be much of a cure.
Yes, we will need to see what these sequences will ultimately add up to, so we can find out how to prevent it from happening when introduced in human trials. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, however. But this is an extremely good omen. I told everyone I was buying drinks: they’ve earned it for all the hard work that’s lead us this far. I’m so happy I might just have a little myself. I have just gotten off the phone with DBR corporation, and Caleb seemed even more excited than me to hear the news.

I had been so forlorn these past few months. This whole project seemed like little more than a desperate folly. But now? Now I think we might just do it, Daniel. Maybe this isn’t just a bunch of drawn out false hope after all. Maybe fate is finally on our side.

35
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 24, 2018, 07:07:28 PM »
Diddy took a deep breath and entered the room, sitting down on the chair and gave his uncle a meek little smile. “Uh, hey there Donkey,” he said with a nervous laugh.
Outside, Junior was already having a bit of a breakdown. Wendy being their certainly helped, but at heart he was much more a worrier than he tended to let on. Yeah, yeah, he was big braggart, blowhard brat to the world. But that was thing: we was like that to the world’s eyes because that was what he wanted the world to see in him. Confidence: strength. Deep down… he wasn’t like that. He was afraid so often, about so many things.

36
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 24, 2018, 04:34:29 PM »
In the library of the Spire, two hideously disfigured men went about searching the towering archives of Stripetail’s collection for a certain book.
One of them—Defago--was not wearing his protective metal mask or heavy winter wear. There was no need around Joshua—he was bandaged from head to toe. There was no way Defago could touch him skin to skin. Why, Joshua didn’t even seem to mind the unearthly chill Defago’s exposed skin brought to the room. “I enjoy the cold, to be honest. It soothes the burns I have a little. Just a little, though,” Joshua told the Cancuk. Defago was mighty pleased to hear that. He didn’t trust Joshua half as far as he could throw him, lord no, but he seemed a mighty agreeable fellow at the least. Good enough for pleasant company, at least. While searching the library, they talked a little about their pasts. What they were each willing to talk about, at least.
“Ah, so you’re a Moor-mon, eh?” Defago said as his long finger claws carefully flipped through the books, trying his best to avoid freezing them solid or tearing them to shreds.
“Yes. That was what we were called before the war,” Joshua said mildly as he flipped through a book. “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. We had lost or forgotten many of our old ways with the war, though—that’s why we abandoned the term. With new rituals and new norms, we rechristened ourselves the New Caananites. Mormon is just an historical term now, where I come from.”
“’Suppose that means you wouldn’t like a swig o’ my rye?” Defago said with a grin full of yellowed, enormous teeth. His skin was so blacked and blued that the yellow stuck out like a headlamp in a dark cave.
“No thank you,” Joshua said politely, his hands moving with a disturbing dexterity and speed through the rows of books. “I know there was an old text called the Pearl of Great Price that forbade alcohol, coffee, and tea, and that it was sadly lost to history. But the taboo of alcohol never left the New Caananites after all these years, regardless. Even war can’t scourge the tightest held traditions from its victims’ memories.” Joshua paused, his mummified hand landing on a book high on a shelf towards some of the denser material in the Spire’s vast library.
“Ah. Here it is. This is the one G and Rogan said to start with.” Joshua showed the book to Defago who grimaced slightly.
“Oooh, a doctor’s journal,” Defago said, and gave a slight laugh. “I’m o’fraid I’m not too good at readin’ any o’ that fancy science stuff. Not like I could go to any ol’ night school lookin’ like this, eh?”
“Would you like me to read a loud?” Joshua asked, turning his icy, fire-bleached eyes towards the wendigo. Defago’s grotesque face looked hesitant.
“Nah, I ain’t no little boy. I couldn’t ask ya to do that for my sake.”
“I used to be a translator. Just think of it as that: a translation. During my work in Caesar's legion, I had to work with the science team—I picked up most of the words.”
Defago stared for a moment. Then he let out a boisterous chuckle. “Ah, you musta been one helluva translator, the silver tongue you got there, Joshua. Très bien! Read away!”
Joshua turned his pale eyes back to the book. A label on the cover declared that it was a copy of a text now in AMS custody. It was titled “Pertaining to the 1998 Currien Mansion Case--The Diary of Dr. Roy Curien.”
----------------
Junior was used to getting in trouble. Diddy was not. As they approached Stripetail’s room, the kong began to hyperventilate a little. His scaly boyfriend rubbed a claw on his back.
“Hey hey hey,” Junior said with a gentleness Rogan was not used to seeing. “It’s gonna be alright. Here.”
He offered his hand, which Diddy gripped hard. The monkey nodded roughly, as if he were a bit embarrassed to be reacting like this and wanted to signal that this was just a moment of weakness.
“Thank you,” Diddy said through some heavy breaths. Rogan kept quiet, knowing the two boys were providing better support to each other than he ever could. He expected that to change once they had to be separated from each other to meet their families.

----------------
The blond teenager drummed his fingers on the phone as Haro bounced around happily behind him. “Marbet! Marbet! Marbet!” it cheered. Usso sighed. He was glad one of them was looking forward to this call. He dialed in the number, and put on his best brave face as the phone began to ring.

37
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 23, 2018, 08:43:46 PM »
Junior and Diddy looked at each other miserably.
“My dad’s gonna kill me.”
“Yeah? Well my uncle’s gonna kill me.”
“My dad breaths fire, I’m worse off than you!”
“Nu-uh!”
“Hey,” said a voice behind them. The two boys turned around. It was Rogan, standing with his arms crossed. “Need us to come with you? For moral support?”
Junior and Diddy averted their gaze.
“Thanks, but I don’t think it’ll help,” Junior said. Rogan shrugged. “I have a daughter,” he said. “She’s not much less a pain in the ass than you are. But I love her, despite all the trouble she’s gotten into. I've had my share of tough talks with her. Trust me: I think I could ease your spirits a little. Or at least give you some advice.”
Diddy and Junior looked at each other for a moment. Diddy nodded, and Junior sighed. “Alright. But just stay out of sight while we’re talking with the folks.”
“Right,” Rogan said as he looked at G. “You want to come with us?”
“I feel like you’ve got this covered,” he said as he straightened his impeccable black suit and tie. “I think I’ll head back to the Spire. I heard Défago and Joshua are trying to learn more about the Mag-0 formula. They could use some of my notes.”
Rogan nodded. “Alright, lets head out.”

38
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 23, 2018, 04:23:42 PM »
Junior’s grumpy face softened a little as he heard Flurrie’s reaction to the news that he, Wendy’s little bro, was in gay cahoots with a kong. His scaly tail waggled slightly. He was kind of starting to like this purple, Ludwig-haired fart cloud lady, to be honest. It might have put him off his hard-wired bad guy attitude for awhile, had he and Diddy not heard the last part of what Stripetail said on the ring.
Junior and Diddy’s backs  both went stiffer than a light pole.
“Meet?” Diddy began with wide eyes.
“With my dad and DK?” Junior finished with a crack in his voice. Rogan and G interrupted whatever it was they were talking about to look over in their direction, hearing the genuine distress in their voices.
“Uh… Y-y-you mean SEPERATELY, right?” Diddy uttered with a nervous laugh. “I mean, c’mon—they will DEFINETLY know something is up if they see us together.”
“Yeah,” Junior said with concern etched over his normally smarmy face. “As far as they know we hate each other. We can’t just explain that all away—you GOTTA have us meet them one on one.”
But even in a serious situation like this, the two little immature knuckleheads couldn’t help but smother a snicker at Stripetail’s choice of the word ‘reamed’. That, uh… that word usually had a less metaphorical meaning whenever Diddy and Junior used it.

39
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 22, 2018, 08:04:43 PM »
“Uh, right,” Diddy agreed, but secretly thought that they didn’t really have access to magical doubles at the time they started this journey. And they had worked out just fine before, for smaller excursions out together, but it probably wasn’t the most well thought out plan to think that the façade would last longer than a week.
“And yeah, that amount is fine. Thanks, Stripetail!”

“Uhh…” Junior erred as he scratched at his ponytail band. “I mean I do, but I think I’d remember seeing you if I did.”
“Don’t mind him, he just likes being mean,” Diddy said breezily as he strolled up the Wendy’s friend. “I’m Diddy Kong. I’m Wendy’s brother’s boyfriend. Although you didn’t hear that from me,” he said as he put a finger to his lips to signal this was a secret between them.

40
Random Role Play / Re: Insane Cafe 4: The Insane Frontier
« on: November 22, 2018, 03:03:30 PM »
“Five percent?” Junior began to whine, but Diddy elbowed him so hard it he fell into a nearby collection of garbage cans. Diddy smiled into the ring. “That’s fantastic!” Diddy said into the ring as he threw a stern look at the sulky looking koopa’s direction. “Dk can be bought with a hundred bananas or so—trust me on this. Uh… Not sure how much Bowser’d ask for,” he turned to his boyfriend who was drumming his claws on the rim of the can he had fallen into with a pout and an angry alley cat clawing away fruitlessly at his shell.
“Hey, how much d’y’think Bowser’d need?” Diddy asked.
“How should I know? A lot, probably. And how is that supposed to get our guys out of trouble?”
Diddy wondered that too, but he figured Stripetail had it covered. He turned back to his ring and said. “Uh, you might need to ask Bowser himself for that. But thanks so much, Stripetail. You’re a lifesaver.”

Junior sighed and got out of the garbage can, which caused the cat that had been attacking him to yowl angrily. He dusted himself off, reoriented his royal ponytail, and shrugged at Flurrie. “Eh. Never been much of a theater guy,” he said. He turned to Wendy next, and ignored the hushed conversation G and Rogan were having. "Well, what do you expect? We were trying not to be found! That means not leaving tracks!" The cat from the garbage snuck up on him and started clawing at his unshelled face.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 ... 38