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(CYOA) The Last Article -PART 2

Jester

Arbiter
Joined
Mar 24, 2013
Messages
1,493
Purge xeno, mutant, heretic... not today.

RUN AND CALL FOR INQUISITION
 

WetWorks

Arcane
Patron
Joined
Oct 10, 2007
Messages
3,532
Location
Facedown in the mud
Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
It is coming for me, sliding up the hammered car door.

With panicky resolution I reach for the glove box, rips it open and fumble around inside while the edge of the yellow liquid pools up to the window, it’s mass still seems to be coming from up the road and a shiver with an unconscious thought of just how big this thing really is.
My hands find the indifferent steel inside the small compartment, scrambling over IPad and post-it notes filled with idle scribbling.
With a rising desperation caused by seeping yellow goo sliding into the passenger seat from the cracks in the door, I swing out my hand, my old .38 ready for blood. The yellow shape is bulging, angling it’s way in through the passenger window, already a glob on the passenger seat, barely inches from me. The muddy, plodding sounds continue now mixed with the groans of pressured aluminum. There is a stench in the air. A protruding stench of filth and watery dirt and it makes me sick to my stomach and frenzied in mind.

I fire directly into the descending body of some great alien creature. There is a great overpowering sound as I grow slightly numb in my ears, and the surrounding darkness lights up with the miniscule explosion. I hit a great stream of pus that is coiling into my car, leaving a splattered gap showing it’s cancerous transparent innards, but the thing keeps coming.
The passenger seat is filling up and heaving itself on its base, stretching a blotchy tendril appendage towards my legs. I fire again and again as I scream with wretched powerlessness. I fire and fire and the slugs hit but the mass just keeps on coming, like had I just fired a gun into a tornado or a tsunami.

It is coming for me.
I feel it’s nearness. It touches my leg with the barest of glances and I am filled with a great dreadful sensation of both acidic burning and horrible crushing power. My mind goes into panic and I put the gun in my mouth to end it before it can get me.
To end it like I planned, to end it with dignity and with control of my fate.
I close my eyes as a I attempt to picture something soothing, but I am overcome with a melancholy sense of regret and a horrible will to live.
I pull the trigger with unwilling, almost traitorous, shaking fingers.

The gun clicks empty inside my mouth.
Instead of black oblivion I taste gunpowder residue from the last slug.

It is coming for me

The entire left side is filled with the sickly yellow color, there is a great pool of thick yellow liquid on the hood and the windshield, and I hear bulging sounds on the roof. I am surrounded. A wave of infecting yellow mass engulfs me. I can feel a crushing power on my bones and flesh, and worse, I can feel it entering my pores filling the spaces and crevasses in my body with a strange, terrifying, suffocating sensation. With a mind primal with panic I make a last bid for life attempting to open the car door to escape into the night, but something forces itself into my urethra and anus filling my abdomen with liquid burning causing me to SCREAM SCREAM SCREAM.

I find my self whimpering and telling the mindless thing to wait, please wait, hold on, no no - an unconscious attempt at bartering with alien minds from beyond my understanding, my debasement thus complete. Then it fills up my mouth and nose with a mass that tastes and feels gooey and sick sliding its way into my lungs and brain. I can feel burning and violent pressure on my skeleton and hear bones break. I cannot scream since my mouth is taken over with a groggy suffocating terror that moves inside me, but I can sense everything happening to me freezing my mind in this appalling moment. All I have left is extreme self-pity and betraying thoughts: “I DON’T DESERVE THIS! I WANT TO LIVE. PLEASE GOD, PLEASE GOD, PLEASE!”
Then I feel it completely engulf me, I am entirely encapsulated inside it’s bulk and my ribs start to crack. I sense it on my eyeballs and even stirring behind them, and they give way. I feel them bursting inside my skull turning into liquid salt, flowing up into a mind that is being devoured by some great yellow thing from the road.


I am Sonny Johnson, and this is the story of my demise.
I suffered.
 

Nevill

Arcane
Joined
Jun 6, 2009
Messages
11,211
Shadorwun: Hong Kong
I guess if you present people with the complete retard option in the first update, they'll vote for it just because they want to read the hilarious death scene while they don't yet care much for the character.

Happened in Random's LP as well with this charming choice in a firefight:
E) [Tactical Genius?] Run out there carrying the trash can as cover and leap off of the second floor onto the first floor to distract the enemy, then toss the trash can at them for victory!

I mean, how can you not vote for it?
 

WetWorks

Arcane
Patron
Joined
Oct 10, 2007
Messages
3,532
Location
Facedown in the mud
Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
I guess if you present people with the complete retard option in the first update, they'll vote for it just because they want to read the hilarious death scene while they don't yet care much for the character.

Happened in Random's LP as well with this charming choice in a firefight:
E) [Tactical Genius?] Run out there carrying the trash can as cover and leap off of the second floor onto the first floor to distract the enemy, then toss the trash can at them for victory!

I mean, how can you not vote for it?

:lol:

Talk about asking for it.
 

WetWorks

Arcane
Patron
Joined
Oct 10, 2007
Messages
3,532
Location
Facedown in the mud
Project: Eternity Codex USB, 2014
PART 2

I wake up in the middle of some horrible nightmare. I can’t recall what it was about, but my brow and body is sweaty and I feel confused and scared for a few seconds. Then the dim reality of my motel room with it’s cheap, worn furniture fades in, and my breathing calms down. Outside I can see the pale, blue glow from the neon motel sign promising service 24/7.
I sit up, reach for my teal handbag and grab cigarettes and lighter. So, I light up even though I promised myself I wouldn’t smoke any more cigarettes that day, but I tell myself that since it is half past one it technically is the next day. This is my last cigarette today then, I promise myself, knowing full well that it is a lie that I’ll be smoking at least a few more cigarretes come morning.Strangely, the taste of tobacco gets me thinking about Antonia and her perfumed smell, and miss her instantly.
I miss both her and little Ramon, picturing them fast asleep back in the city, hundreds of miles away from this dingy motel in the middle of nowhere. I can picture their breathing bodies, the sounds of their breaths (even Antonia’s snoring), and for some reason I tear up while I take another drag on my cigarette. I smile at my sentimentality, me, the tough dike, crying alone in her motel room because she can’t handle the job, the loneliness. Maybe I’m not such a tough girl after all; maybe I’m just as weak as they want all women to be. I laugh a little as I dry away a tear and take another deep drag on my cigarette. I sit there for a while, looking at the blue glow without really seeing it, lost in thoughts. After finishing the cigarette I find my cell and stare at the background picture of Antonia, admiring her auburn, curly hair and her shallow dimples. For a moment, I am seriously tempted to call her, but I resist the urge. After all, It’s four in the morning back home, and as much as I want to hear her girlish voice speaking out my name, I don’t want to piss her off. Instead, I toss the cell on the bed, get up and start dressing myself. I leave off the bra, but get my professional looking blue pantsuit back on, and pull it in place so It doesn’t look too messy. I find a few bucks in my bag, enough to get a coke from the vending machine, brush my sweaty hair a little so I don’t look so much like someone who just drowned. Of course I can’t help center on my nose, my weakness, my nemesis. I guess I am much like a stereotypical girl in that sense as well, even if I would never say so to Antonia. I used to hate that crooked nose, but age has tampered my hate somewhat. I remember the kids from my neighborhood calling me “crooky” because of that tiny left bend, and even if I’ve never heard anyone even mentioning it too me while I have been an adult (not even Antonia in bed) I still automatically focus on it every time I look in the mirror. Perhaps I should just give in and become one of those plastic surgery people the TV is so chock full of. I laugh to myself.

After my reflection release me, I step out into the cool spring night, met with only the low hum of the vacancy sign, lighting up the tiled path to the motel office. There are mounted glowing lamps on the motel walls. It’s beige façade is slightly peeling. It is a place much like any of other damn motels I’ve seen hundreds of times now, and I am sick and tired of them. The automatic sliding door to the motel office open, and I find myself back in the vaguely orange colored room with the scratched counter where all the information folders rest. These folders are all about tourist information and restaurants in the area, it’s the same kind of folders you have in the rest of all these kind of motels. There is a great oaken shelf behind the counter with rows upon rows of little cubic spaces, filled with keys to the rooms and the assorted junk like staplers, pencils, an old football and what looks to be a stack of Gideon bibles. The place is empty; there is no one behind the counter, and no one in the green chairs along the walls. Instead I am met with the smell of something burning – tobacco obviously. Then I notice a small stream of smoke wafting up from behind the counter. With impulsive curiosity, I lean over and see what looks to be a cigarette slowly smoldering on a lightly scorched and piece of carpet (obviously cheap carpeting). Next to the little funeral pyre lies a pair of imitation designer glasses. They look dropped, not put there.
I stop at this sight, my mind not entirely able to form a realistic narrative behind what I am seeing, but finally decide that the gross little manager, who checked out my ass when he thought I wouldn’t notice, must have been in a hurry in order to literally drop everything he had. The explanation doesn’t calm me; the sight is entirely eerie and feel myself becoming apprehensive, like that time back in Butte.

“Hello?” I call out and look around. There is nothing else to see as far as I can tell, there is a door leading into the back room, probably to the private area. “Is anyone here?”

There is no reply.

I resolutely walk past the counter, pick up the slightly warm cigarette and stomp on a few cinders in the carpet, causing a burst of tiny, dying sparks to fly upwards and turn black in midair. Then I put out the cigarette in a tray behind the counter, and find it already half-full. That little repulsive clerk had a cigarette in his hand when I first entered, and it looks like he has been working hard on the lung-cancer during his shift.

“Hello?” I call out again. Everything is quiet.

I’m starting to worry, a feeling up discomfort knotting up my stomach. I walk out the glass door and look into the night. The motel is quiet and illuminated by the rows of lamps on those beige walls, none of the rooms look inhabited but there are three cars in the lot. Just down the road lies the town of Cider Creek, looming black and flat with a sparse row of streetlights showing off the towns unimpressive main road. I call out again, wondering if the manager is out here urinating, but the glasses and the cigarette on the floor has me on pins, and I just know that something is terribly wrong.


Start looking for the manager in the private quarters.


Get back up to the motel room, pack up and get the hell out of dodge.


Get back to the motel room, get the cell and call the cops.
 

GreyViper

Prophet
Joined
Jan 10, 2011
Messages
1,523
Location
Estonia
Phone wont work and manager is dead. I suspect we cant just leave due some macguffin. Im still amused by the people who believed that shooting a eldrich blob would work. this story is survival horror, so assume most normal I win options are going to fail. Also notice two options end up at motel room, guess what that hints. :P

My vote goes to Start looking for the manager in the private quarters.
 

Nevill

Arcane
Joined
Jun 6, 2009
Messages
11,211
Shadorwun: Hong Kong
You are right. We can't shoot the eldrich horror. This is a job for the cops.

Calling them now.
 

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