> IZZY: Fail to resist temptation. You hate yourself a little more with each passing dumb thought.
> IZZY: Load up SBURB client.
With your own stupid thoughts pushed aside for the moment you take your discs out of your jacket. It was the only safe place for them, as you didn't want to risk launching them across the planet with your ridiculous sylladex.
==> Alright! Looks like Alice has already set up her end of things.
Now all that's left to do is install the game.
> ENTER. Hoo boy. That looks like it's going to take awhile. Thankfully you have your favourite sites to visit to kill some time while Sburb does it's thing.
> IZZY: Kill time. While the Midnight Crew is a pretty radical comic, giving you hours upon hours of entertainment alongside the previous hit comic Problem Sleuth, the hiatus' it has become near known for can get long, near unending really. The current one has been ongoing for what seems like years already. You know it'll be great once the update drops, however to not see something you hold so ear to your heart in so long is really, really shit.
To fill the void, though, you read meidnite kre w. It's so super funny and stupid, yet engaging all the same. Truly, a mastermind crafted the historical art piece of a site known only as mspantaventores.conk. Pregrem Slut was not AS good, but hey, not everything can hold up to previously set standards.
==> While reading, you quickly shoot Alice a message, letting her know you've finally connected to her.
-- octadOrchid [OO] began pestering bloodQueenium [BQ] at 21:15 --
OO: i got the game all going and stuffffff
OO: replyyyyy to meeeeeeee
==> She'll get back to you when she can.
You DID sort of lollygag for a half hour, so the least you can do is give her some time to get her bearings too.
While you're all caught up on your comics of choice now too, so the only thing left to do is get your room in tip top shape for when you start playing this catastrophically terrible game! Woo-hoo. More heavy lifting.
Your poor arms are going to be jello.
> IZZY: Be the other girl. You are now the Other Girl.
While this may only be your twelfth year on this planet, it also seems to be your last. Today, you are going to play a game with your BEST FRIEND, Izzy. The game in question has, to your unending knowledge, murdered another friend. Really, more of an acquaintance than a friend, only knowing him via Izzy and her constant need for friendship and validation that she isn't a complete moron. You love that girl, but she is about as intelligent as a dog trying to find a ball that has not yet been thrown.
Nevertheless, as stated prior, you are about to play a game. Or, rather, you WERE about to play a game. As of this moment, you have been GROUNDED by your guardian for calling her a 'Bitch', and claiming she does not understand your lifestyle. Said lifestyle is not a choice, you were born into this role. The role of being BETTER THAN EVERYONE AT EVERYTHING. Including, but not limited to, being better on the internet, claiming the only computer in the house as if it were your property. Every waking moment spent searching through the topography known only to the most unique of beings, called BLOGS. For you, these blogs are less of a trivial thrill seek, and more of an obsession. To see these blogs, and the people behind them, updating to their every movement is truly literature the guttural bunch of sewer dwellers you call peers will never truly understand.
Your other hobbies are many, spanning numerous fields in the search for the ONE TRUE INTEREST. One which has escaped you since your birth. However, the search has led you to many things. Like ROLEPLAYING AS A VAMPIRE on the forum you met Izzy on This forum was the start of it all, so many years ago, helping to mould you to the person you are today. As well as create the name you were meant to take on.
You could easily spend hours running through the various name choices you've accumulated over the years, however you are kind of strapped for time. So, to make this simple, you pick up your trusty NOTEBOOK, turning to the two pages you've dedicated to such shenanigans. Here, you see all of the terrible names you've considered, as well as your DISGUSTING legal name, and your FAR SUPERIOR online persona.
Your ( fake ) name is ALICE VON WONREICH.
You have a myriad of INTERESTS. All somehow pertaining to your image as a SCENE QUEEN who has amassed followers on all possible social media platforms available in the year 2009. Your favourite is MYSPACE, however. It is where the truly spectacular folk you admire and wish to be gather, become friends with one another, and even begin dating. One of the many who got their start on the platform was none other than DAHVIE VANITY, who is the king of SCENE KIDS. In your eyes, at least. You have gotten into more than a few altercations regarding whether he is a viable overlord, or whether it should be JEFFREE STAR to take the limelight, shadowing the dedicated cult of girls and boys alike that seem to call Dahvie a god. While you do view Dahvie as superior, you are also a fan of Jeffree, and can see both ends of the debate with a relatively neutral stance.
Movies have been a point of contention as of recent, what with other kids of your culture ruining the chances of actually decent scene kid moves being brought to theaters. You have bore witness to the creativity within your community, yet the negative atmosphere of it all has made outsiders wary, fearful even. None of your favourite INDIE DIRECTORS will ever see the light of day. Oh well. At least you still have TIM BURTON.
You also have a fondness for SERIAL KILLERS. One in particular has been an object of interest since you discovered him only a year ago. The Night Stalker, RICHARD RAMIREZ. Truly, he was a dastardly man, yet the fascination with his wrongdoings has fuelled your love of MUTILATED BODIES, as well as your need to become a wonderful GORE WRITER.
With proper introductions out of the way, you mull over what you should do next.
Although you could very much argue your position atop of the fashion ECHELADDER, you instead choose to not start shit with yourself, yet again. The last time your internal debate lasted well over six hours, landing you in grounded town for skipping school, albeit unknowingly due to how heated the back and forth had gotten. For now, you opt to just don the scarf in a rebelliously asymmetrical fashion.
Truly, you are the queen of picking matching clothing. It is you.
>R???: Crank your stereo.
Hell. Fucking. Yes.
While your memory of what CD you had in there was fizzy, you can honestly say you're ecstatic at what you hear blaring out, splitting the fine hairs of your eardrums. Without a moment to spare, you throw out the devil horns, rocking out to the SCREAMO that will, more than likely, piss off your guardian. Whatever. Fuck her, she's a bitch.
>R???: Check out CD.
This is a copy of a BotDF EP.
Well, it was. It seems as though the cover is, once again, different from what you had originally bought it as. This cover depicts the two leads, Dahvie Vanity, and Jayy Von Monroe, and the title of 'ALL THE RAGE'. A curious change, but not one that is uncommon within your household. Objects have this habit of changing whilst no one is looking, leading both yourself and your GUARDIAN to thinking you are being haunted. However, whether the existence of an otherworldly being is present within your abode, you also cannot rule out the possibility that one of you is simply sleep walking and fucking with the things.
Well, whatever. You'll pop this into your ARRAY MODUS for now. An incredibly helpful modus it may be, however due to a lack of funds, you were unable to purchase additional captchalogue cards. So, you only have two slots at your disposal.
>R???: Fondly regard mutilation.
You bend down to reach under your side table, pulling a shoe box out from under it.
This shoebox holds all of your DETESTABLE GORE PORN within it's confines. No eyes but your own may gaze upon these beauties, the guts spilling from disembowelledbodies, lacerations sprinkling long since dead carcasses in the perfect kind of tasteful way, and teeth pulled from their oral confine, only to be tossed aside.
Opening it reveals all of that, and more. More that you wish you could stare at all day long, absorbing the details strewn about in every still.
You cannot allow yourself to get caught up in your grotesque hobbies. You quickly captchalogue your precious box for when you have a moment to spare.
Now, you must venture into the outside. And deal with your guardian.
Your given name is irrelevant at the moment, as well as the general curiosity of whether your home is haunted or not, your attention focused wholly on what has been worrying you since you got home from your PART TIME JOB.
You stand at the window, watching as the sky blazes through destruction, contemplating a course of action. The imminent threat of death looming over you, and your sister worries you far more than you'd ever care to vocally admit. You're supposed to be the all knowing elder of the house, yet you have no idea what to do now. In this moment, you wish you still lived in your old house. Vague memories of a bunker below it's basement flooding your thoughts. It would save both yourself, and your sister. Yet, with your parents both being DEAD, you were not able to keep your old house, instead moving to this dilapidated TRAILER PARK in the middle of nowhere, leaving you without a means of escape.
You decide to ignore it for now, instead turning to observe your tiny home.
Perhaps it'd be a good idea to un-ground your sister, and allow her to spend her final moments on the computer she loves so.
Gently, you knock on her door. 'Ruth?' you ask, only for no answer to come.
>RUTH: Be yourself.
You have no idea what that means. Nonetheless, it is about time you make your grand escape.
Perhaps if you stand perfectly still she will not be able to see you. Folklore tells of a gigantic BEAST of which none could escape, unless they stood as still as a statue.
You had mentally prepared yourself to strife your elder sister, yet here you stand, watching as she skulks away from you, the look on her face as indiscernible as ever. To know, or understand what that woman was thinking is beyond your sphere of comprehension, perhaps even beyond the greatest of psychics' comprehensions, as well.
Well, since she doesn't seem to want to fight you, or enforce your status as grounded you decide to not question her or her motives.
-- octadOrchid [OO] began pestering bloodQueenium [BQ] at 21:15 --
OO: aliiiiiiicccceeeee OO: i got the game all going and stuffffff OO: replyyyyy to meeeeeeee
BQ: Holy shit. I'm finally back at my computer. BQ: Sorry for the stint of silence. BQ: My dumbass sister got on my case about me calling her out. BQ: I'm going to connect now. BQ: You ready gurll? OO: thats fine !!! OO: and yeah i am OO: just uh OO: try to ignore my crappy job of moving stuff around BQ: LMAO. Considering I've already seen how shit you are at doing anything physical with my own two eyes, I doubt It'll surprise me much at all.
-- cabriolesnOozer [CO] began pestering bloodQueenium [BQ] at 21:17 --
CO: hey BQ: Ugh. Fuck. BQ: What do you want? CO: game CO: u playin BQ: Uhhhhhhh. Yeah? BQ: I'm Izzy's server host, so don't even bother asking if I'll be yours, shitface. CO: wasnt gonna CO: ur 2 shit 4 me CO: prolly gunna kill izz BQ: Oh my god. Holy shit. BQ: Stop. Just. Stop. BQ: Your typing is giving me an aneurysm. BQ: I need to go to the hospital ASAP. BQ: Which means, oh no! BQ: I can't talk to you anymore! BQ: Whatever shall I do without your presence to keep me company on dark, stormy nights, laying awake 'til dawn as I contemplate when I would be able to speak to your ever interesting self again! BQ: Or, you know. I'll just let my brain kill me instead of all of that garbage. CO: u dyin would b coolz BQ: Disgusting. CO: is sc good to play CO: he wont answer BQ: Oh. Honey. BQ: Didn't you hear? BQ: He's fucking dead. BQ: Soooooo sorry about that. BQ: That your boyfriend is dead and you can't suck his dick anymore. CO: im not gay CO: shut up BQ: Sure you aren't, dear. BQ: Sure you aren't. BQ: Well! Have fun dying! BQ: I have more important tasks to complete. BQ: All of which do not include your beanie wearing ass.