=>Dungeonstuck 6348072951

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Work on your pet project its a Weapon of mass.....Distraction!!!!


You decide that you're bored, so you pull up your pet project. It's a game that you've been working on, but it's only in the starting stages. Your idea was to make a game that allowed people to interact with the environment of other people, even in different places. So far you can only run small simulations, but hopefully you'll eventually make it a real thing. You're entirely stuck on the title though.
You pull up a file of one of the simulations that you've been running for a day. So far the only thing that happened was the client character being crushed by a refrigerator. The server player's AI is still in it's working stages, so a lot of the simulations are prone to this type of accident. You set up another simulation, running parallel to the one going on, but with different character names. You set the client player to be a caucasian 13 year old male with black hair and glasses. You set this simulation to run for 1 day, and close the tab.

[wolftamer9]

>Other friends: finally log on.

> Finally begin your online DND session.

EDIT: FINE.

> Umm.... IDK... work on your secret OTHER project that involves reality portals or something.

[TribulatoryTerminator]

> Umm.... IDK... work on your secret OTHER project that involves reality portals or something.

You would, but unfortunately, you don't have one! Anyway, reality portals are impossible according to Euclidian physics, or so you've been told. Either way, you have nothing to do. So naturally, you go to your room. You're a nice guy most of the time, and you are gracious enough to show us your room which is indicative of your personality. Thank you!

You enter your room and look around. On the right wall is your futon. You use one because you like being anticonformist. In fact, most of the stuff in here is because of that. Your sheets are covered with pictures of lewis structures for Ammonia. You don't know why, you picked them out when you were a little kid, and your parents never stopped you. But you guess that's the reason you like chemistry so much. Or one of them, anyway. On the walls above your moderately decorated sleeping arrangements are several posters. your favorite one has a big picture of Chemistry Cat with a punny caption. The other ones respectively are: One with a picture of bouillon cubes, one with the alphabet going backward, and a final one with dogs playing poker.

On the opposite side of your room is your desk. It's cluttered with all types of books, books about chemistry, and fantasy, and secret wizards. Somewhere in the ever-increasing pile of literature can be found your Captchalogue deck. You use the Ouija modus, leaving your choices of what to use and when up to the spirits. You of course use this semi-ironically, because spirits are fake fakey-fakes. You decide to dig through the pile of books to get to it. This quickly gets tiring, so you're struck with a genius idea! You captchalogue all of the books. Your deck now contains:
1 (ONE) CHEMISTRY FOR DUMBASSES
1 (ONE) LAPTOP
3 (THREE) SETS OF THE KING OF THE RING TRILOGY
18 (EIGHTEEN) TINY CHOCOLATES
1 (ONE) CELLULAR PHONE

There, much better. You slip the Captchalogue deck into your pocket, presumably to show us how it works in action later.

[Naristar]

decide to eat chocolates

[FeelingsofDisorientation]

>Phone: Ring.
>Modus: Refuse to give up phone.

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Decide to eat chocolates.

You immediately take the captchalogue deck back out of your pocket to use it. For a few minutes, it just sits there. Then a floating ghosty keyboard shoots up in front of to deck, and letters start showing up. The first one is C. This could be any of 20 things in your deck. The next letter is H. That narrows it down by 1.

The next letter is...
is...
...
E

Your CHEMISTRY FOR DUMBASSES book is catapulted out of its card and hits you directly in the face. It hurts a lot. You recaptchalogue it, and decide to stop messing with your deck before everything in it gets weaponized.

[Velmen]

> Peruse your 'CHEMISTRY FOR DUMBASSES' book, and take solace in the fact that it isn't as terrible as 'CHEMISTRY FOR ASSHOLES'

Alternatively

> Get back to the current task at hand, which is...

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Peruse your CHEMISTRY FOR DUMBASSES book and take solace in the fact that it isn't as terrible as CHEMISTRY FOR ASSHOLES
>Get back to the current task at hand, which is...

You attempt to take out your CHEMISTRY FOR DUMBASSES, and thankfully, the 'spirits' allow it. You open it to your previously opened page, 4563.82. STOICHIOMETRY FOR THE FAINT OF MIND. It's full of complex diagrams and equations, all of which are really of no use to you whatsoever. You've known this stuff since you were just a little kid. What really annoys you is that the book never, anywhere in its massive girth, mentions how to pronounce 'Stoichiometry'

Stoik...
Stoish...
Starch...
Shit...

Yeah, you aren't getting anywhere.

You instead decide to check back on your simulation. The time it ran for in-sim was about a day so far. You pull it up on your laptop. The boy, unnamed as of so far, has managed to drop a toilet on himself. Both of his legs are broken, and he's unable to move. The other players so far have done nothing. You close the simulation, and open up your email. A flashing icon is up, indicating that one of your friends wishes to talk to you.

[Velmen]

> Converse with your online compatriot!

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Converse with your online compatriot!

You click on the flashing icon. Your friend has been talking to an empty computer for a while now.

show spoiler

hide spoiler

KS: Hey, 6ryce.
6ryce, are you logged on?
6ryce?
I'm just going to keep 6othering you until you answer.
6ryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyycccccccccccccce eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
6ryce.
6ryce, you 6allsack, get on!
This is 6ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrriiiiiiii iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!
BP: Dude, what the fuck is wr0ng with y0u? I was just away fr0m my c0mputer, spamming me w0n't get me back 0n!
KS: It's just... no6ody else is on right now. Not even HL. She's usually always on. And willing to listen to my annoying 6ullshit.
BP:Fine, geez. Y0u seri0usly need t0 w0rk 0n y0ur ADHD. It's like y0u're a whirlwind 0f flaming w0rds and shit, bringing destructi0n 0n any0ne wh0 is 0ffline.
KS: Sorry, 6ryce.
BP: It's 0kay. Y0u're just a massive flaming pain in the ass. S0 what did y0u want t0 talk t0 me ab0ut anyway?
KS: Well... nothing, really. I was just 6ored. I spent three hours running around waiting for the game to come, 6ut no luck. So I got on here, and 6othered you until you answered.
BP: You suck. I'm l0gging 0ff.
KS: 6ut...
No!

You 0llie 0uty of that conversation, with just a hint of your sanity left to show for it. Sometimes you wonder why you're friends with him.

[Naristar]

because he makes great cookies

[TribulatoryTerminator]

because he makes great cookies

Because I'm horrible at segues, I'm going to use this as a good place to introduce a new character.

A boy, who we can say is almost a young man is standing on the back of his chair, about to perform a long dive onto his bed. He had just gotten off of a conversation with his friend, and he gets bored fast.


>ENTER NAME (Initials are K.S.)

[Legendary]

Khaotic Salamancer.

[Karp]

Kangaroo Shootout

>K.S.: Faceplant into your bedframe, break your nose.

[myto_alkoreath]

Karl Schmidt

[WhyPurpleWhy]

Kevin Streep
Kroked...
Kaine South
Kaede Summers
Kyle de Suzo
Kaiden Sauvhenben

[Kroked]

Kroked Shmoked :P

[TribulatoryTerminator]

ENTER NAME

Your name is Kroked Kaede de Suzo. As was previously mentioned, you have severe ADD and ADHD. Some might even say crippling. But by the time they say that, you probably weren't paying attention to them anymore.
You have a strong fondness for the Monk-icular arts. To you, the epitome of perfection is a man, shaved, sitting perfectly still for hours on end, achieving nirvana. You wish you could become one, but of course that is far, far off from your abilities.
You enjoy baking, it's one of the few things you have the capacity to enjoy over a longish period of time. Your cookies are legendary, even to those who haven't eaten them. Of course, you send them to your friends on their birthdays.

>Kaede: Faceplant into your bedframe.

Unfortunately, you have gotten into this sort of situation all too much, and you manage an enviable midair pirouette flip in midair, saving your nose from an otherwise untimely fate. You land facefirst onto your blue sheets with the cookie decals. Whoo. That was pretty close.

[myto_alkoreath]

>Kaede: Eat the sheets since you are obviously starving. Also, make some odd animal noise while doing it if you feel up for it.

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Kaede: Eat the sheets since you are obviously starving. Also, make some odd animal noise while doing it if you feel up for it.

You start gnawing on your bedsheets. This activity isn't nearly as interesting as you assumed it would be so you start squawking like a parrot. This increases the entertainment capacity of said activity by %9001 percent. It flies higher on it's achievement rung, to the level of RAINY DAY MESSIAH.
After about half a minute of this abnormality, you get up and go to your window again. It's the tenth time in the past hour, and nothing has changed. Wait...yes! A mail woman walks up to your mailbox, puts something in, and lifts the dealie. The flappy dealie. You start squawking like a parrot again out of sheer excitement.

[myto_alkoreath]

>Kaede: Be the parrot. Fly to the mailbox.

[Legendary]

Kaede: Fall to your death imminent unconsciousness.

Kaede: Dream.

[Velmen]

>Kaede: Soar like an eagle and land on the mail woman.

>Kaede: Rush to the mailbox like a mad parrot after a bowl of delicious crackers.

>Kaede: Fall out of the window and dream of phallic images.

>Kaede: Ponder the mysteries of the phallic images that pervade modern culture.

>Kaede: Use your mythical 'penis ouija' to discern the best course of action.

[WhyPurpleWhy]

>Maillady: wonder where that escaped parrot came from. perhaps you should alert its owner it has gotten out of the house.

[TribulatoryTerminator]

>Kaede: Be the parrot. Fly to the mailbox.

>Kaede: Soar like an eagle and land on the mail woman.

>Kaede: Rush to the mailbox like a mad parrot after a bowl of delicious crackers.

You use every bird imagery you can think of to rush to the mailbox. You open your window, crouch on the sill, and leap. You make it around five feet away from your house and land straight on the cold hard, pavement of your empty driveway.

>Kaede: Fall out of the window and dream of phallic images.

>Kaede: Fall to your death imminent unconsciousness.

>Kaede: Dream.

Yeah, you're out cold. The world rushes into blackness around you. A new world however, takes place around it. You look around. There appears to be a bright golden city, with tall turrets and towers that strongly resemble penises. This isn't your first time here, though. You come here every time you fall asleep, and you have been for a long time. Longer than you can remember.
You usually wake up inside one of the five bright, golden towers that slightly resembles your room in your house. There are all of your posters on the walls, but there's also some writing on the walls. In big blue letters, written straight above your bed, were the words: Stay away from the 6right planet., and 6ark6ark6ark6ark. Those have been there for as long as you've been dreaming here.
You start to wander, weaving your way through the large crowds of carapacian people. They are the native inhabitants of this place, the moon of a planet called Prospit. The Prospitians believe you to be their saviour. They have you in their newspapers often, but they don't use your name. Most often they dub you as the Monk of Breath. You don't understand exactly what they mean, so you usually ignore it. You go into one of the other four towers. In it lies a body laying still on a bed, breathing slowly in and out. She's in the same condition as all of your other companions on this moon, perpetually asleep. You're the only one awake. One of the other ones wanders at times, but its never far.