CHAPTER 1: THE DAMN MUTANTS
Every year it is the same. Every year those damned mutants rise again, and crawl out of their hideout, the a building in Broken Shores. That is, 687.5 x 1419.8 in The City of Home – East, if you have not heard of it. Someone has grown sick and tired of the situation, and would like you to undertake a very delicate mission. We know that a few years back, some daft do-gooders set up the Theft Secure Food Dispenser within a building. The Theft Food Dispenser has been used several times to feed the mutants, in the hope that they will quiet down. With no success, if you ask me…
But the good thing is that the mutants come every day, like lab-rats, and press their lever in hopes of getting food. It should be easy for us, should you agree with our proposition, to give the mutants some good old Spiked Food Sacks to make them docile through this breeding season, eh? 66586 credits and 112893 experience points await you if you carry this mission through before 48 hours. Just use the Spiked Food Sacks on the Theft Food Dispenser, and get out as soon as possible.
Thedeacon: DAMN those mutants!
Metaphysical Demon: Right on, Deacon! Every year it is the same.
Thedeacon: Every year, EVERY year, those damn mutants rise again!
Metaphysical Demon: Well someone has grown sick and tired of the situation and frankly, so have I!
Thedeacon: Frankly, I’ve grown tired of the situation of having to deliver spiked food sacks twenty-six times an hour.
Belamorte: Deacon, have you ever noticed that these damned mutants rise more than once a year? In fact, I’d be willing to wager that these damned mutants rise several times a day. Multiply that times the thousands of people delivering food sacks and you have a big problem with mutants rising.
Thedeacon: Right on, Belamorte. I mean, if the mutants aren’t docile enough after eating 17,000 bags of spiked food sacks, maybe they need to consider changing the recipe? Which begs the question: Are these food sacks “really” spiked? I mean, what if we’re risking life and limb just to refill the mutants’ munchies because the daft do-gooders are too fekking lazy to get off their asses and deliver the sacks themselves?
Belamorte: That might explain why the damned mutants seem to be rising MORE rather than less. Those damned mutants rise so much, I wonder if they ever get a chance to sit back down.
Thedeacon (straightening his back as a serious look comes over his face): I smell a nefarious plot by the evil Omni-Tek Corporation and what I smell is most definitely not good.
Belamorte: I smell it too. Only I’m thinking you just forgot to change your Luxurious Rubber Pants. Do we need to switch back to Nano-Diapers ™ for you?
Thedeacon: I’m a big kid now. And besides, the Luxurious Rubber Pants are a symbol of the plight of the Meta-Physicist.
Belamorte: Or a sign that you’ll be old and incontinent by the time Meta-Physicists will get any real love.
Metaphysical Demon: Or the Luxurious Rubber Pants are to hold in the piss and vinegar of all the Meta-Gimpicists while they beg for improvements.
Thedeacon: Or our creators know that we’ll crap ourselves if we finally get some attention.
Metaphysical Demon: Where do Theft Food Dispensers come from, anyway?
Thedeacon: Didn’t you read the mission description? They come from the “daft do-gooders.” We should have bought stock with the company that makes Theft Food Dispensers. They must make a killing.
Metaphysical Demon: Okay, but where do the daft do-gooders get them from? And if the Theft Food Dispensers were made just for the Daft Do-gooders, what did the Theft Food Dispenser company do before the Daft Do-gooders were around?
Thedeacon (thinking hard): It’s like the chicken and the egg.
Metaphysical Demon: I see. What’s a chicken?
Belamorte: Deacon, we’re getting paid for this. Ask yourself if you really care.
Thedeacon: Why of course I do. Here is ‘Thedeacon caring’. (pounds a fist angrily on the mission terminal): Why, Mocham? WHY do the Damned Mutants rise again? Have we all not suffered enough at the hands of the damn, dirty mutants???? (collapses to his knees and beats both fists against the ground, pulling up clumps of grass and letting it fall through his fingers). DAMN YOU ALL, YOU DAMN DIRTY MUTANTS! YOU FINALLY DID IT. YOU BLEW IT ALL UP!
Belamorte: Deacon, that was the most pisspoor Charlton Heston impression I’ve ever seen. Right now, if I pulled out a dictionary and looked up the word ‘jackass’, I could take a Polaroid of you and stick it on the page. I don’t think anyone would know the difference.
Thedeacon: Ha! You don’t even have hands. How could you hold the camera?
Metaphysical Demon: ‘I’ have hands! Two of them!
Thedeacon: Well then, how come you only use one of them to fight? I mean, Enmity Personification uses two hands to fight and he doesn’t even have any hands!
Metaphysical Demon: The other hand got paralyzed in the incident with the mayonnaise jar and the nanomage female feet.
Thedeacon (slowly standing up) *shudder*.
Belamorte: But since we’re on the subject, whose seven year old child wrote that mission description? Think they might have gotten a little excited with the comma button or is that just me?
Thedeacon: Huh? I don’t, see, anything wrong, with the, mission description,,,,,,
Belamorte: Not to mention the fact that commas aren’t normally used before a conjunction.
Thedeacon: Oh no, I don’t use commas before I conjuct either. I usually like to get her really drunk and rub her feet fir—
Belamorte: Deacon!
Thedeacon: Oh right. The mission.
Belamorte: Why are we doing this, anyway? I mean, you’re level 200. Isn’t the point of getting to level 200 is so you don’t have to ever set foot in another mission? And besides, you don’t have any use for a “Challenger to Behemoth” nanocrystal. Well, judging by the fact that you can barely kill a leet with your gimp attack rating, you have use for it, but this is an enforcer crystal and you’re a Meta-Gimpicist.
Thedeacon (shamefaced): Well, er, it’s not actually for me. It’s for Thedeacon1.
Belamorte: WTF kind of name is ‘thedeacon1’?
Thedeacon: Capital ‘T’, Belamorte. Thedeacon1.
Belamorte: No, he’s “thedeacon1”. I refuse to acknowledge that as a name.
Thedeacon: I names him Thedeacon1 because he’s my alt.
Metaphysical Demon and Belamorte stop to face each other and then shout in unison: “ALT?”
Belamorte: Oh this explains a lot, mister. All the nights I slaved over a hot stove for you, only to have you come home too tired to eat. All this time, you were playing….HIM!
Metaphysical Demon: And how you used to hold me in your masculine arms and plant butterfly kisses on my heaving chest. But all the while you were loving me, you were thinking about…..him!
Level 134 Fixer (turning from the mission terminal to face Thedeacon): Dude. I don’t think I want YOUR mokies. I might get my NCU filled with something else, if you catch my drift. Perv.
Thedeacon: Stop that, Metaphysical Demon! I never kissed your chest.
Metaphysical Demon: Oh but how I wish you would.
/fblock
/ymca
Belamorte: What kind of name is thedeacon1? I mean, I thought you were supposed to be creative or something.
Thedeacon: I *am* creative. I write stories and stuff.
Belamorte: Deacon. I’ve read your ‘stories’. Well I tried to before falling into a deep boredom coma. Is it any wonder why all the coffee and no-doze pills are gone?
Thedeacon: You fell asleep, Belamorte? Well that might explain why you can't heal worth a damn.
Metaphysical Demon: Deacon, I like your stories.
Belamorte: Which only lends credence to my point.
Metaphysical Demon: Yeah totally! Er….hey waitasec.
Belamorte: Hmmm. Looks like the reward for this mission is Challenger to reallybigthing. What exactly does it do?
Thedeacon: All I know is it makes him a hell of a lot more uber than us.
Belamorte: Why would he need a nano for that? Like, he could kill a leet instead.
Thedeacon: Come on guys, we only have like a year to complete this. Let’s get to the grid.
You received a new mission
Your inventory has overflowed! Free up some inventory space or you’re absolutely SOL under our so-called ‘reimbursement system’
Thedeacon: Fekk. It gave me two Spiked Food Sacks. Metaphysical Demon, could you hold onto one of the sacks in your non-fighting gimp hand?
Metaphysical Demon: Mmmmm, Spiked Food Sacks.
Thedeacon: No! These vittles ain’t for eatin’! Promise me you won’t eat the Spiked Food Sacks, Metaphysical Demon. PROMISE. (clicks the ‘enter the grid’ button)
Metaphysical Demon: I pr--
>>>>>>>>You have been disconnected. There could be many reasons for this happening. This could be one of the various bugs introduced a couple patches ago, but we’d never admit that. Are you kidding? No, no, let’s call this a game enhancing feature meant to nerf the evac abilities of Fixers, Doctors and Traders. Just thank your lucky stars you’re an MP. No wait…..YOU’RE AN MP!! LOLOLOL gimp.
Tell you what. Pre order Shadowlands and we won’t completely bork your gaming experience every 15 minutes anymore. We’ll also give you more buffs. You like buffing people, don’t you? DON’T YOU????<<<<<<<<<
Rick Stenlund: WTF? Again? Oh God damn this patch, I went LD again. Always happens when I grid.
Sarah Stenlund (blows a giant plume of dust from Rick’s shoulders): WTF is ‘grid’?
Rick Stenlund (turns his neck to face his wife and both cringe at the sound of joints moving for the first time in weeks): It’s like encoding your body in um, like the Internet to go to a different different place.
Sarah Stenlund (rolls eyes): Different place? You mean like real life?
Rick Stenlund: Hell no. According to the article about me in the New York Times, I don’t visit there often.
Sarah Stenlund: And we all know what a truthful and factual source of news the Times is.
Rick Stenlund: Well written too. All their news is hard hitting and factual, of course. Just like all the other tabloids.
Sarah Stenlund: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Rick Stenlund: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Sarah Stenlund: For a second there I almost thought you were serious.
Rick Stenlund: ROOFLES MAYO, woman! If the staff of the New York Times were living in a Pinocchio story, we could use their elongated noses to replenish the rainforest.
Sarah Stenlund: You’re bad. How could you insult the tabloids by putting the Times in their league? Tabloids are a bit more believable.
Rick Stenlund: w00t! AO’s back up. Now stfu n00b, I’m playing.
Sarah Stenlund busts you upside the head with a bag of nickels for 500 melee damage. Critical hit!
>>>>Reconnecting you to the grid<<<<
Thedeacon: Woah. WTF was that? I had this dream that I was tied to a chair and some woman was attaching jumper cable clamps to my nipples while beating me with a bag of nickels to the tune of “Mr. Bojangles”.
Metaphysical Demon: What the hell is a jumper cable?
Belamorte: What the hell is a nickel?
Thedeacon: never mind.
------In Broken Shores-------
Metaphysical Demon (holding his engorged stomach): Deacon, I don’t feel so good.
Thedeacon: Metaphysical Demon, did you eat the Spiked Food Sacks?
Metaphysical Demon: Why Deacon, I’m wounded that you could accuse me of----Yes okay, alright, I ate your fekking Spiked Food Sacks. Sue me.
Thedeacon (giving Metaphysical Demon a stern look): Okay fine then. At least I have one Spiked Food Sack left.
Belamorte: So Deacon, where is this mission?
Thedeacon: It’s in the “A Building in Broken Shores”. (looks around at the 17,000 buildings) Er, let’s just follow the horribly corrupted graphic that’s supposed to be an ‘X’ on our minimap.
-------Meanwhile, Inside the mission--------
Master Rebooter (straining his arm to push a small red button located next to a computer terminal): Almost…..almost….THERE!
Seasoned Techwrecker (sitting pantless at a computer terminal in the next room with a jar of pepper in his hands): WTF man! I was downloading pr0n! Do you absolutely HAVE to reboot every 30 seconds?
Master Rebooter: Omni-Tek isn’t paying me to just walk down a long hallway all day. That’s Veteran Enforcer’s job. Rebooting takes skill and determination, which is why I’m a master at it. It’s really much harder than it looks.
Hardened Criminal: Oh thweety! /fblock Did thumeone say ‘HARD’? /ymca /adjust
Veteran Omni Metaphysicist: Oh god no, it’s him again.
Veteran Omni Metaphysicist shouts: No, they didn’t say ‘hard’! Now go back into your room and leave us alone!
Seasoned Functionary (sprinkling pepper and Basil over her head): Veteran Omni Metaphysicist, that wasn’t the nicest thing to say. Do you have a problem with Hardened Criminal or something? I would think that 30,000 years into the future, we’d be able to set aside our prejudices. And why are you walking like that?
Veteran Omni Metaphysicist: Well ever since he saw my baby blue Waitt Armor and Pink shield, he’s been…..flirting with me. And this limp? Well, he caught me sleeping one day. You know that big rod he carries around?
Seasoned Functionary: Ohhh say no more. Ow. I mean, OW. It’s no wonder you missed the monthly Omni-Tek enema-thon.
Veteran Omni Metaphysicist: /itch And he doesn’t even have a medical license, either.
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keep em coming 
Woot.
