Recursion of Fate[TEXT] (Let's make a deal)

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-16-2012, 07:57 PM

>EPICLY DRAWN ADVENTURE: Begin

You cannot begin an EPICLY DRAWN ADVENTURE because the author CAN'T DRAW WORTH A DAMN. You must settle for a MEDIOCRE TEXT ADVENTURE.

>MEDIOCRE TEXT ADVENTURE: Begin.

A young man of sixteen years old stands in the middle of his room. He is wearing an OVERSIZED LAB COAT and a SEMI-PERMANENT SCOWL. He is scowling because it is 5 am, much earlier than his alarm would usually go off. He was rudely awoken by a loud noise downstairs, likely cause by the house's only other occupant, his FATHER. I mean, its not like he was going to sleep the whole day away. He did have plans, but they didn't start at FIVE IN THE FRICKIN' MORNING.

Why is he wearing a lab coat, you ask? Because it's a Saturday morning, that's why. How about you stop asking useless questions and try something productive. Like find out what this guy's name is.

**trulyElse** · 01-16-2012, 08:00 PM

Chester Ellis.

**Naristar** · 01-17-2012, 01:52 AM

Wren U. Commins

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-17-2012, 08:44 AM

>Wren U. Commins

No way. Your Dad may be a jerk and an idiot, but even HE isn't mean enough or stupid enough to name you Wren. I mean, isn't that a girl's name?

And Commins? Nothing Commin about you. You're exceptional.

>Chester Ellis

Your are CHESTER ELLIS, a young man with unruly red hair, green eyes, and many freckles. You know everything there is to know about PHYSICS and most other SCIENCES, and to hear you tell it, most everything else. In fact, you consider yourself a GENIUS, and are not afraid to let everybody know. You are also well versed in many MYTHOLOGIES, especially GREEK and ROMAN, although you yourself are ABOVE SUCH SILLY SUPERSTITIONS. You despise ignorance in any form, and seek to rectify it wherever it occurs. You consider yourself something of a WISE MENTOR FIGURE to your friends, while most everyone else considers you a KNOW-IT-ALL ASSHOLE.

As was previously mentioned, you have plans for later today. Three friends of yours are coming over to play a game that just came out. Your sure nothing unexpected will happen.

But, as was also previously mentioned, its FIVE IN THE FRICKIN MORNING, so you have to burn about five hours. Thanks a lot, Dad.

You are standing in your bedroom, with a variety of your personal affects surrounding you. POSTERS OF FAMOUS SCIENTISTS, such as Tesla or Einstein, as well as a periodic table of the elements. Your BOOKSHELF is filled with various BOOKS and FIGURINES, and on your desk sits your LAPTOP. And of course, the ordinary fixtures of a room are also present. There is a BED, with unremarkable BEDDINGS such as blankets and pillow, and a CLOSET, filled with various CLOTHES as well as an abundance of your PHYSICS OBSERVATIONAL TOOLS (which many would foolishly mistake as CHILDREN'S TOYS).

What do you do?

-----

Inventory

**Naristar** · 01-17-2012, 10:18 AM

HAHA its ok it was a joke name
Please don't try to figure it out I'm ashamed that I thought of it!

Do some arobic exercise!!
(

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-17-2012, 10:54 AM

>Do some arobic exercise!!!

Arobic? Don't you mean aerobic? Moronic thoughts can't even spell themselves right, can they?

Besides, what would arobic even mean? Aerobic is "living in air" literally, so what? Aro... maybe based on aroma? So... smell exercises?

No. This is stupid. Why are you even entertaining these thoughts?

>Do aerobic exercise.

There, fixed. Actually, not a bad idea, now that you think on it. Might be able to spend a few minutes with this.

You grab an OSCILATION VISUALIZATION CORD (often confused with a JUMP ROPE buy the uneducated) from your pile of PHYSICS OBSERVATION TOOLS in your closet and start to perform a complex series of COORDINATION TESTING ROUTINES (often mistaken for JUMP ROPE TRICKS) to not only exercise your muscles and cardiovascular systems, but awaken your cognative abilities.

Inventory

**Naristar** · 01-17-2012, 05:30 PM

Trip yourself!

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-17-2012, 08:28 PM

>Trip yourself!

Really? You may not be the peak of physical perfection, but surely you have more than enough coordination to-

BAM!

Ow. Okay...

You have just... completed a pain resistance training exercise. And done so with with great skill. Anyone watching would have surely thought that was an accident. Heck, you practically surprised yourself. And that made the training all the more successful.

So you are lying on the floor now, your oscilation visualization cord flung across the room when you tri- when you performed your training.

Oh hey, you expensive laptop alerting you to something.

**Naristar** · 01-18-2012, 10:36 AM

Well pick yourself Up and go and answer the person!

**trulyElse** · 01-18-2012, 06:19 PM

>Make sure your webcam was off.

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-19-2012, 12:08 AM

>Make sure your webcam was off
Oh come on, you know that you were chatting with a friend last night, but there's no way you...

Oh no.

Oh sweet Jupiter no.

See, this is why you prefer to talk on Pesterchum, this way if you forget to log out, you at least don't have to worry about being spied on.

Now let's see who it was that saw...

Oh sweet Jupiter no. Not this clown.

You don't even know how he got your chumhandle. You've never met this guy in person, and you tend to block him every other week, but this guy doesn't give up easily.

If you could pick out a trait of this guy you like, it would be his dogged determination. You block him, and he just creates another account to continue bugging you. You always know it's the same guy, though.

As for the traits you dislike, that list is considerably harder to go through. Number one on that list is probably the infuriating way he types.

Chatlog:

Pluto claim him you hate it when he does that! He's generally a snarky little prick, but then ends with something interesting or unexplainable before you block him. Forces you to wait until he makes a new account so that he can explain himself.

**Naristar** · 01-19-2012, 12:43 AM

Wait impatiently for his retrun and for goodness sake turn off the webcam

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-19-2012, 02:08 PM

>Wait impatiently for his return and for goodness sake turn off the webcam

That's the thing with this guy, he's never consistent when he get's back to you. Sometimes it takes only minutes, sometimes hours, and sometimes he leaves you waiting for days at a time. You just never know. So rather than sit around like an idiot for Saturn only knows how long staring at a screen, you'd better find something else to do.

But yeah, turn the webcam off, that's an idea. At least if he does come back, you won't be giving him any more ammo against you.

You look at the time in the corner of your laptop. 5:30. Great, only four and a half more hours.

So now what? No-one else is online, not this early in the morning. You could find something to do in your room, but you also have your morning chores to take care of.

**simon.clarkstone** · 01-19-2012, 04:53 PM

> Make offerings to gods.
> Have breakfast.

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-19-2012, 06:46 PM

>Make offerings to gods.

Why would you do that? Just because you have an extensive knowledge of all the mythologies, does not mean that you believe in any one of them.

However, all this thinking about the gods has brought your thoughts and gaze towards your collection of MINIATURES in your bookshelf, depicting various figures from ROMAN MYTHOLOGIES. You have nine in total, including JUPITER and JUNO, the king and queen of the gods, PROSERPINA (sadly you cannot locate a matching PLUTO figurine), MERCURY, MINERVA, DIANA, VULCAN, JANUS and APOLLO.

>Have breakfast.

Yes. Well. Indeed, that would be a productive use of your time.

However, the kitchen is downstairs.

Your idiot father is also downstairs, and if the noise that awoke you is any indication, he is probably in one of his... "episodes".

...Maybe a sacrifice is a bit much. A prayer, perhaps?

Of course, it would be for completely ironic purposes, as your are still entirely above such silly superstitions.

**Naristar** · 01-20-2012, 03:01 PM

get trolled again!

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-20-2012, 09:29 PM

>Get trolled again.

That would be really convenient, but you really have no control over other people's actions.

Oh. Look at that.

comicallyUnhelpful (or whatever he's calling himself now) isn't trolling you, but one of your other chums is pestering you.

Pesterlog:

Well, that was much better than getting trolled by CU.

Now, I suppose back to breakfast?

Might as well find out what exactly your father woke you up with this morning.

**Naristar** · 01-21-2012, 02:44 AM

*note crying emote is :'(
Yes run recklessly down the stairs

**simon.clarkstone** · 01-21-2012, 07:06 AM

> Equip juggling club as weapon.
> [S] Descend

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-21-2012, 08:11 PM

>Equip juggling club as a weapon

It would probably be a good idea to arm yourself. Your father may have a hammer, or worse, power tools down there.

You seach through the pile of physics observation tools for a suitable means of self defense. You find your CIRCULAR AERODYNAMICS DEMONSTRATOR, HELICAL GRAVITATIONAL/ELASTIC FORCE MOTION DEVICE, and several SPHERICAL VELOCITY EVALUATORS. After some time spent searching, you locate your UNEVEN MASS DISTRIBUTION PROJECTILES, which may appear to be JUGGLING CLUBS to the untrained eye. You take one and firmly grasp it in your hand. Usually, you use these devices to observe the motion of an object with an uneven distribution of mass, as the name implies, but it will serve in this new, secondary purpose. You contemplate momentarily about taking a second, but then you run the serious chance of someone seriously mistaking them for juggling clubs. And the only people who use juggling clubs as weapons are insane clowns, who may or may not tAlK lIkE tHiS.

>Run recklessly down the stairs.

You do nothing recklessly. And running down the stairs would make it look like you've lost your cool, which never happens.

(Some time in the future, but not too far...

OH FUTUO, OH FUTUO. THERE'S BLOOD, SO MUCH BLOOD WHY IS THIS HAPPENING GOT TO RUN OH FUTUO OH FUTUO OH FUT-

You trip as you recklessly run down the stairs.)

Huh, that was odd. You spaced out for a moment there.

Anyway, time to go downstairs. Walking.

>[S] Descend

What is that [S]? Its almost as if outside forces desire for there to be a soundtrack to your life. But why would that be? And why would they choose such an inconsequential action to be accompanied by music?

Anyway, life sadly does not come with a soundtrack. Though if it did, you begin to suspect that your descent would be accompanied by something like this.

As you make your way out of your room towards the stairs, your find your gaze drawn towards the picture of a beautiful, red haired woman framed on the wall just opposite the door to your room.

Your mother. The mother you never knew, who died giving birth to you. You wonder what your life would have been like, if she had survived. If fate had not played its cruel tricks.

As you make your way down the stairs, you cease being Chester Ellis. You are now an outside observer, desiring a scene that befits such accompaniment. Sadly, you will have to make do with the descriptions of various meaningless occurances happening around this time.

Chester Ellis' steps take him towards the stairs. Our view expands, encompassing the entire neighbourhood in which he lives. In an hour in which most are asleep, few lights are on. The sun begins to make an appearance, rising as our view begins to narrow once again.

We are now observing a young girl in grey, baggy workout clothes. Her left fist strikes a punching bag, repeatedly and with a distinct rhythm. A look of focus is on her face as an older gentleman watches from the doorway, with a smile that was equal parts pride and sadness. Elsewhere, Chester Ellis has reached the stairs and begins a slow, cautious descent. Unbeknowst to either party, his footfalls and her strikes synch, moving to the same unheard beat. Their fates have, for this moment, been entwined, and as they are joined by the fates of others, a great tapestry shall be woven.

Our focus moves again. Swiftly, we find another part of town where an appartment lies dark. Its occupant has been awake, but unmoving for some time, filled with a confusing but unmistakable feeling of dread. Something is going to happen today. Something terrible. Slowly, a female figure rises from the bed, wincing from the few rays of sunlight which filter through closed curtains. She begins to move. Slow, listless steps are made, in time with the other two. A third thread is joined.

Movement. Elsewhere, of course. In a wooded area, a cloaked figure makes steps on an upward incline. Surrounded by trees on all sides, he (for we only can assume it is a he) makes steady progress, seemingly isolated from all things. And yet his steps too fall into the rhythm, and his fate too is seized by the needles of destiny, held tightly, as tightly as he holds the long, thin object wrapped in sheets.

Two figures now dominate our awareness. One, familiar to us, moves downwards, with a slowness than implies hesitation. One, unfamiliar, moves upwards, with a slowness that implies purpose. United only in motion, not even direction, simply motion, they move as one.

Finality is reached, and the threads begin to unwind, for a time.

The cloaked figure reaches a clearing, rising above the trees as he stops at the top of the hill. He rests one hand on a sapling, as isolated as he is, with his mysterious package help firmly in his other, planted into the ground like a flag claiming the land. His gaze wanders over the trees, and not too far beyond them, rows of near-identical houses. His face, though hidden, wears a look of grim determination.

The girl in her training strikes, and the rusted chain which holds the punching bag breaks. The weighted sac falls to the ground with a sound as swift and final as death itself. The girl turns to the man in the doorway, a single thumb upraised in triumph. On her face, a look of ultimate victory.

The figure in the dark appartment stops, seemingly at random. Slowly, she sinks to her knees, and there she stays. The feelings of dread have reached a climax, and with them, feelings of helplessness. Shoulders shaking, hands are brought to her face in a futile effort to stave off tears. On her face, a look of utter sorrow.

Chester stops. He has reached the ground floor of his house. Above lies the bedrooms, where each morning begins just as the last. Below lies the basement, where he works tirelessly for reasons he does not fully understand.

And before him, hammer in hand and nails in mouth, stands his father. On his face, a look of manic enthusiasm.

------

Now, we stand in an interesting position.

We are currently no one. As our vision has gone beyond good Chester and his troubles, we have seen some fragment of the greater picture. And with it, a few new faces. Well, we didn't see all of their faces. But that is beside the point.

Do we wish to continue with Chester and his familial plight, or would we rather "change gears" as it were, and be someone else for a short while?

Don't worry, we'll get back to dear old Ches soon enough, regardless.

**trulyElse** · 01-21-2012, 09:00 PM

>Change Gears: Be the young girl

**simon.clarkstone** · 01-22-2012, 10:39 AM

((That was pretty awesome, especially with the chosen music. Your text has the structure of a good flash (in fact, more structure). The parallels of action came across really well.))

> Be the cloaked figure.

**mysticCharlatan** · 01-22-2012, 04:06 PM

>Be the cloaked figure.

You attempt to be the cloaked figure. Unfortunately, he is a required Mysterious Onlooker^(tm), and is thus uncommandable by us who cannot know his motives for dramatic purposes.

But we might as well be him, and see what he's up to.

You are now the cloaked figure. You have many names and titles, but the one you are most fond of is the Supernal Swordsman.

You reach into the depths of your cloak and pull out your AUDIO TRANSMITTANCE DEVICE. You turn it on to contact your associate.

You say that the package is delivered. You associate says what package. You say the package, the damn package. He says who did you give it to. You say its the codephrase, moron. He says we have codephrases? You say damn it all, why'd I have to be partnered with the idiot. He says that he made your newest device, not to mention the one you are using right now, so how can he be a idiot. You say because you are. He says that's not a valid reason. You say shut up. He says fine.

There is a moment of awkward silence.

You say that you are in position. He says can you see the target yet? You say you haven't even set up yet. He says why did you bother calling then. You say because it was the damn plan, that's why. You say that now that you've reached your position, he should be at his should something go wrong. He says alright, he's there. You say good, over and out. He says wait. You say what. He says sorry, he was joking before, about not remembering the codephrase. You say don't joke. He says alright. You say alright. He says still buddies? You hang up. He knows this means yes.

Suitably annoyed, you unwrap the long device you came up here with. For dramatic purposes, we cannot know what the device is. However, we do know that it takes some time to get set up, and it takes some time to take down. The target isn't in sight yet either, and you don't know how long it will be before he is.

So long story short, you are going to be waiting some time. Not doing much.

Now would be a nice time to be someone else.

**simon.clarkstone** · 01-22-2012, 04:46 PM

> Be immortalLegionette
> Stuff slain punch-bag and mount it over the fireplace

**trulyElse** · 01-22-2012, 04:49 PM

> Be the Girl

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