Can't show ya the whole project, but hey, here's a small tidbit that I just added to it today:

Activism

It was a dusty trail, so dusty in fact, that each step they took would simply enhance the roving dust cloud that pervaded wherever they go. They had a strong suspicion that they would soon happen upon a dusty little town, because that’s always the way it happened in westerns. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to be using the Western theme today, because it probably would not have sucked as much as what transpired here.

“How long have we been walking?” Herodude asked, wiping off the halfway calcified sweat that coated his brow.

“I don’t know, man, but I know one thing: whoever designed this game is a friggin’ sadist.” Moot, having exerted himself greatly by his speech, came near fainting, then pulled himself back to consciousness with the help of Larry, who cudgeled him with his oversize hook.

“Ow!” Moot shouted with the enthusiasm of some barnyard creature who, after much debate by the development team, shall be unnamed here, but just for anyone who was curious, it’s a tree sloth, since that’s basically the only animal that Moot could possibly be compared to. (for anyone curious as to who raises tree sloths in a barn, I do. So there! Just give the suckers a tree to climb up into, inside of a barn of course, and they’ll sleep for hours! It’s riveting!)

“Okay, it’s about our scheduled time for some random plot development to occur, and I don’t see the floating midget anywhere!” Namere paced around impatiently, kicking up the dust which had momentarily settled after Moot passed out.

Suddenly, beyond the cloud, they noticed something off to the side of the road, and that something was a bigger cloud of dust. After some time spent waiting (the party hit an invisible wall, the edge of the background, in the direction the carriage was coming from, so they decided to stop and wait), a little man urging on a team of horses that, despite their team spirit, were probably going to be signed away in the Fall.

“Good afternoon, strangers!” greeted the loud, obnoxious little man with a top hat the exact same size of his stubby two-foot body. He wore a shirt that implored you to “Save the Chickie-Bums!” along with a picture of the cute, fluffy, and completely irritating little creatures that have yellowish fur, and can be ridden if you press the A button while standing next to them.

Moot was the first to speak. “What’s with the horses?”

“Well, they’re actually just friends of mine. They’re doing a favor by helping me pull this buggy of mysteries and mayhem across the country, to further the cause of the Rights of Sprites.”

“Rights of Sprites?” Kilroy asked incredulously. “The only right any enemy sprite has is to get ooowned!”

“My, my, I see you people need an education in sensitivity. All these other game sprites out there, yes, even the enemy ones, have thoughts and feelings and needs. And beyond that, they have rights. We all have the right to live harmoniously! Let the love spread across the land!”

Namere was feeling the love already. “Yes! We must scour the earth and wipe out they who disagree!”

“That’s right!” Herodude chimed in, having suddenly grown interested in this suggestion. “They will all fall before us!”

“We’ll choke thur supply lines with our dead!” Larry shouted, defiantly extending his hook into the air.

The party was charged up now. For the first time in a long time, they were passionate about something! But something was amiss.

“You don’t get it at all, do you?” the little man implored them, the hat emphasizing his point as he flips a switch and the words “Experience points are murder” appear on the bill, scrolling around it in all their individual-LED-lettering glory.

Unfortunately, by this point, the party’s fervor for this cause was a bit much, and they pounded the little man (and his hat) into nonexistence, then went for a joy-ride on his horse-and-buggy, moving along at blinding speeds up to ten miles per hour.

The horses, fortunately, were very single-minded, and continued following the route they were taking before, carrying the party members beyond the borders of the level and through the pitiful artwork that scourged the edges of the map, until at last, they came upon a mountain.

“What is this place?” Notnilc asked, which was daft, because there was a rather explicit sign right before his eyes. After getting over his prior embarrassment, Notnilc began to exercise his reading madskillz.
“Within this cave (which will henceforth be called the Mysterious And/Or Secret Side Quest Cave) contains the very last of the Chickie-bums, along with about a billion (not exactly, we just can’t count very well) other sprites. The management cannot be held responsible for deaths that occur on the premises. Entry will be considered acceptance of these terms. You have been warned.
-the Mysterious Management



“Well, they warned us, so I guess we can’t sue if we get killed in here, right?” Ekim asked, kind of disappointed that he couldn’t sue somebody for his emotional anguish.

“Nope,” Herodude said, and the party plunged into the depths of the cave.


Inside, it was total darkness accompanied with brief stints of pitch blackness, so Samoht cast the Table Lamp spell, and a mystical table lamp appeared, housing mystical table lamp energies the likes of which mere mortals couldn’t hope to understand.

The walls of the cave were revealed to them now, and they didn’t turn out to be very interesting, except for a couple of graffiti images saying “U SUX I ROX I FOUND THE SECRET FIRST ROOK” and “OMG MY COOLNESS IS EXCEEDED ONLY BY MY AWESOMENESS,” indicating that some mad gamer had already beaten them to this place. This significantly reduced everyone’s enthusiasm for this already rather lame side quest, but nonetheless they pressed on, carrying on even as the Mysterious Cave turned into a Mysterious Tunnel and finally a Mysterious Hole in the Wall, which, upon their entering said hole, led to the Mysterious Giant Mausoleum with No Purpose. There were pillars everywhere, and right there, in the middle, was about a thousand different species of enemy sprites, just chilling, kicking back a few cold ones, maybe having a good time taking a dip in the Mausoleum’s pool. In the very middle of this thronging crowd of enemies, sitting atop a pedestal, was the Chickie-Bum.

“Dude! They’re, like, gonna cook him! We’ve gotta stop ‘em!” Moot screamed an ineffectual scream as he ran towards the mass of enemies, who, upon seeing him, initiated a battle sequence, and the exact same pillars as were there before crashed down on top of the existing pillars.

The group was well-prepared for the onslaught, for although the enemies weren’t really interested in battle, the party was. A few enemies rose up off their spread-out lawn chairs, offering Moot a daiquiri, but Herodude saved him from what wasn’t exactly a threat. In fact, it wasn’t even a threat. It was a friendly gesture, but hey, these folks are single-minded. Hard to get ‘em convinced otherwise when they’re fixated on something.

It was only a matter of time before the group had clubbed, stabbed, impaled, cast spells upon, shot, and otherwise caused pain upon the enemies to the point where they’d all been wiped out, which was probably a huge infringements on several of their rights, such as their right to breathe and their right to not be killed by greedy adventurers out for experience.

The victory dance lasted for hours as level piled upon level, and by the end of it the group was exhausted, since they had to sit through each party member’s gaining the level, then it would tell you how their stats went up, then someone else would gain a level, and, well, it was just ridiculous.

At last, their goal was at hand! And it didn’t even take very long! Namere approached the almost sickeningly cute Chickie-Bum, cooing, “C’mere you cute widdle fluffy wuffy! I can’t believe I just said that. Anyways, back to the cuteness. You’re a good widdle yewwow mutant dog, yes you are, yes you are!”

Unfortunately, no one ever told this particular Chickie-Bum that he was supposed to be nice in addition to being cute, and he immediately latched onto Namere’s leg with its five-inch incisors. After a bit of flailing, she managed to fling it across the room, where it landed, and stood still.

A Chickie-Bum draws near! What will you do? Can’t you just smell that stench of anticipation?

A. You give the Chickie-Bum a Yummy Num Num Treat.
B. You ride the Chickie-Bum
C. You give the Chickie-Bum a gold piece
D. You give the Chickie-Bum a Chickie-Bum that is a chick Chickie-Bum


Are you as excited as I am? Yes you are! Yeeees you aaare! Dat’s good, keep weading . . .

A. The Chickie-Bum, upon ingesting the Yummy Num Num Treat, utilizes the mutagenic powers contained within Fatality Inc. brand Yummy Num Num Treats, and grows gigantic. Within minutes, he eats the entire party, then goes on to wreak havoc across the gaming universe, eventually going on to make his own platform game starring himself and a mute stripper named Starla. You have lost a life, and must now insert a coin, which makes you feel like a loser. But don’t worry, think about it as making me money.

B. Although riding music plays, this particular Chickie-Bum is not exactly domesticated. Larry rides around, his face a mask of glee as his lifelong dream to ride a mutant . . . thing is realized, and is subsequently thrown off the Chickie-Bum and torn into pieces. You have lost a life, I’d tell you to insert a coin at this point but you probably already know that.

C. “You think I’m that cheap?” the Chickie-Bum shouts, enraged. While not exactly certain as to be amazed that the Chickie-Bum can talk or terrified by his mighty onslaught, the party is certain of one thing: they should have offered more. As always, you have lost a life, please insert coin. In fact, put a few coins in. Give yourself more than one credit to work with, man!

D. Now, this was a good idea. “Well, hello,” the suddenly very polite Chickie-Bum said to the newcomer, a female Chickie-Bum that the party suddenly came up with in spite of the fact that the Chickie-Bum they were dealing with was supposed to be the last. In hindsight, the whole “last Chickie-Bum” statement on the sign was probably a clever advertising ploy.

“Hi there, stranger,” the chick Chickie-Bum said coyly, walking away as she uttered the mating call, which sounded similar to a mix between a barking and a clucking noise.

The other Chickie-Bum, seeing this, took off like a shot after the first, and then the party suddenly realized that they didn’t really care about any of this, and left. But hey, despite the fact that they don’t care anymore, at least you didn’t lose a life. You win! *insert victory music here*

- Hey! I never gave you permission to use my lines!

Another good one TQ, but I think the despair is still my favorite

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