AbodeFrozen Act 1: The Start of Something Truly Terrifying
A young man stands in his bedroom. It just so happens that only a week ago, the 20th of March, was this young man's birthday. It has been just over 16 years since he's been given life, but the real question is, what is this young lad's name?
Why don't we find out!
Enter name.
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Enter name.
What kind of fool are you? You can not in fact enter his name, since we've already established that his name is already known! He glares at your insolence. He reaches further into his jeans pocket for something.
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Aha! It appears that it's a PLACRONYM with his NAME engraved upon it!
Everyone uses them nowadays, stopping foolish twits from giving out stupid names like candy. What were you going to name him anyways? Arsemuck Derpface? Zoosmell Pooplord? No way in hell would he let that happen!
Examine Room.
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Examine Room.
Your name is JIM HEIMBURG. Today, you are just lucky enough to have the possibility to try out the SBURB GOLD MASTER, just a few weeks before public release (which despite what your OLD POSTER says, is not tomorrow). Of course, you have to play with a bunch of others who will likely ruin the game with their PATHETIC INEPTITUDE. Though you guess that it's something that is COMPLETELY UNAVOIDABLE. You are particularly fond of MACHINERY and COMPUTER STUFF that makes little to no sense to anyone else. You also enjoy COMPETITIVE GAMING on your computer, and absolutely hate SHITTY CONSOLES. You tend to be a bit of a JERK to most of your CHUMS, and often act ROGUISH for no reason at all. You dabble occasionally in THE POWER OF SUGGESTION, and you love screwing with the mind of your worst enemy. You love FIGHTING, and often will go into STRIFES with your robots just for the hell of it. Pity that you AREN’T TOO GOOD at STRIFES. Losing all the goddamn time. You know everything you will ever need to know about SBURB, you are sure of it. You’re going to win this WHOLE DAMN GAME all by yourself, whether or not your co-players MIND. Your chumhandle is analyticalTyrant, and y0oOu 7end 70oO speak in a me7h0oOd s7rangely de7ached and alm0oOs7 alien in na7ure. Every human you know hates it.
You better not even ask about arms.
Jim: Dance like a robot and bleed on your machinery.
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(A/N: Alright, this is my first official project, and I'm quite happy with how it's turned out so far. I only do the writing/storymaking/posting. The drawing is done by UnperfectStranger, who was kind enough to actually do this. Just as a note, if you want a random human for somebody to pester, if you don't actually know their name (which you won't early on), just type any GCAT pair and you'll likely get one, whereas if you want a troll instead, please just name a blood colour. They've got fancy-ass names and I'd rather not put them all down. Ruins the fun. A further note is that Jim's the only human who will have a legitimate typing quirk, because of reasons that will be further investigated into later. Anyways, enough of this long-ass author's note, I hope you all enjoy this!)







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