Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → The Way of Moderation has ended (page 566)

Beware: I will spam you back, Cenny (The punishment remains. Strop got excused, he emailed it).

That's because you've never had Shin Ramen before, my dear alt. Think a potent mixture of beef extract, MSG, and capsaicin mixed into instant noodles.

So, if I had replied instead of the person who have the final say on it... You would have spammed Strop?

If you spam that inbox, you spam me.

Thai chili.

alt: MSG is umami in a powder.

Firefly: Quite a novice that she has to ask you that, innit? Carry on.

alt: MSG is umami in a powder.

URGENT:
Strop, i have replied to e-mail.

I feel insulted. No one read my terribly short, and terribly horrible rap. No one decided that they'd break it down to destroy everythign about it.

Armorgames, I am ashamed.

No one read my terribly short, and terribly horrible rap.

No one decided that they'd break it down to destroy everythign about it.

Firefly: Quite a novice that she has to ask you that, innit? Carry on.

(I think Pixie's the only person I'm waiting on now)

Pixel stood there with rosy cheeks pusling with embarressed crimson blood. Rap? Rap?!?! Of all the things in the world Pixel hated; neigh despised(!) it was rap. 'Why couldn't they ask me to compose a conerto' he mumbled soflty. But he new his aim and goal in life was to be a moderator and if included a rap then so be it. He took a deep breath to steady himself and proceeded to with:

<clears throat>

#So I read the application form;
Been my dream since I was born.
If I could time travel? If was an emote?
I just closed my mind and scribbled; didn't care what I wrote.
So many questions they don't need to know these things;
Want to know it all, yeah they think they are kings.

Pixel took another deep sigh his mind twisted with derision and protest and the words coming from his mouth. The lyrics spewing out filled him with hate anguish but worst of all embaressment.

#Sat there in my castle had no worries in the life
Just sat there with my basball bat looking for theives; they are rife.
From when I'm sit in a tree just passing the time;
To know when I'm stood ehre being forced to rhyme.
My life has changed, I fear it ain't no good;
Running round assault courses getting covered in mud.

As Pixel started to pass through the lines about his recent "experiences" he thouht more and more about just how much he had been put through. Previous to the last few months the closest he had got to sport was a bit of football (Association) and being subjected to brutal games of dodgeball and obstacle courses was not to his liking. But he proceeded...

#Chilling with my music had no thought in my head;
Got hit by a dodgeball made my skin go red.
Had to fly up in the clouds to dodge this assault;
Barely had a chance to look back to see who was at fault.
Being hounded by a horseman was a brand new game;
Just felt glad he didn't have a brilliant aim.
Sitting on the clouds laying low for a while;
Looking out for dodgeball which I reckon are vile.

#Next was the assault course man it started out easy;
it didn't last long just ended in catastophe.
I flitted around had little to do,
obstacles below me so I just flew.
Round the corkscrew tunnel, over the plank;
Miss the ugly tunnel man it looked rank.
But a rumblin' started rumblin'
A groan began to groan.
Up came a mod with anger in his eye;
Down came his ally swooped from the sky.
I hid and I dodged.... didn't wan to be seen
If they'd a seen me don't know where'd I'd have been.
I looked at my friends all batterd and bruised;
And I shook my head their in a terrible mood.

#So then I was a lady;
No clue how to change back I was afraid-y
Had to change my whole life;
didn't need to look for a wife.
Just cared about my hair;
and if the boys would stare.
Didn't look for a cure;
thought it was just a bore.

#The trash was piled high; still looking for a remedy
'Voidy came a burnt it; made the whole palce so fire-y
With the place in flames no idea what to do;
Dank had to save it was long overdue.
Didn't know how it cured me but I staked my claim;
I had to be a moderator it was my one true aim.

The end was in sight and Pixel afforded himself a smile. Everyone else may hate his rap but his sole consolation was that he did too.

#I was sat at home chilling filling my life with crap;
Now I'm summoned here and I'm supposed to wrap!?!
So I do my research put on my Gorillaz mix-tape;
Think off how to rhyme I learn from an ape.
I stare out at you all hating myself;
The stress this is inducing can't be good for my health.
Will this make me a mod? Will it make me a God?
I need your congratulations gonna make your head nod.


Pixie sighed and trudged off.... he hated rapping more than ever and felt confused as to what exactly he had signed up for.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I apologise to anyone who likes rap I fear this is an insult to the art lol.... and I do apologise for being late next time (hopefully) will be different.

I apologise to anyone who likes rap I fear this is an insult to the art lol

Alright, heeeeere we go! Please note that I am not going to tell you when I expect the WoM to end, except to say that I have my own personal deadline which is non-negotiable. I will be moving much faster and regularly, and I hope that we all will!

---

"AIIIIIIIIIIIITE!" Strop's voice was obviously cracking now. "THAT WAS THE BOOOOMB."

Most of the victestants, most of them having been systematically humiliated, stood back in a slightly subdued throng, wondering just when the evening was going to end. It was well after midnight, so surely the law enforcement would be around to tell them they were making too much noise... oh, well, if a member of said enforcement wasn't making most of the noise.

Just then, Strop made a zig-zag motion with his hand and the house DJ of the night, Firefly, zipped up the music. In the absence of the pounding bass, the silence was deafening. Or rather, the ringing in everybody's ears. Strop reached into his ears and plucked out some plugs. Then he picked the mic up again.

"AND NOW," he boomed before he coughed, and tried again. "And now," he rasped, "Let's wrap up proceedings." He laughed with a whiny whinny before continuing: "I'd like to announce the awards of the night!"

With a dry snap, Strop opened a card he produced from apparently nowhere, and read:

"The Fifteen Minutes of Infamy award for most embarrassing media accessory goes to... Chillaaaaaahhhh!"

Chill slouched to the stage and, for his efforts, received an empty plastic CD case.

"The N**** Whut award for most "Authentic" rap goes to... Maaaaanta! Yeah, let's have it up for him and the musical stylings of DJ Smaaalll Fryyyyyy!"

But Small Fry had already retired from the debacle, so Manta was the only one who received a diamond studded pendant. Made with paper and gems of congealed glue. With the inscription "WINNAR" on the medallion.

"Treasure that always, Manta, that be some srs bling there yo... and last... and in this case least, the Oh No You Din't award goes to: Thooooooad!"

Before Thoad could move, though, Strop walked off the stage. He picked up a tomato left behind from Frank's performance, and mashed it in Thoad's face as he walked by. "There you go buddy. Now where can I get a drink? I'm parched."

As the crowd watched Thoad build up to an apopleptic rage, Strop noticed a familiar stall set up in the corner of the hall. "Just the thing!"



"Hey, rasta mon, hit me up with some juice!" Strop said, flipping fifty cents on the counter. Hermit immediately brought up a suspicious-looking flask, which Strop downed in an instant.

"Ahhh that hit the spot... oh, uh, what's going on..." It seemed the effect of whatever strange potion the horticulturally heinous Hermit was also instantaneous: "Not again," was all Strop had time to say before his knees buckled and he hit the floor with a muffled thump.



Thus ends this round. Note where you are. Note that Strop has passed out...

In the time between now and the next round (approximately 5 days), you are free to come to a consensus as to what you would like to do with the unconscious Strop, as, shall we say, repayment for every mean, unreasonable and embarrassing thing he has forced you to do up to this point. It's the last chance you'll get as a group, so you might as well go nuts. I note that most of you may have a particular, uhm, motivation to enact your own personal payback. If you're up for it, now's the time to do it!

There are some rules:

1) You all must come to a consensus which can be encapsulated in one post, so I know what to take into account when Strop wakes up.

2) Nothing that will permanently damage Strop, or kill him. He has to be able to recover fully. For example, piercings will recover if removed relatively quickly.

3) Don't do anything that requires a description that would earn you a ban on this forum (e.g. sexually inappropriate, explicit, graphically violent etc.), because we will still have to ban you... and that kinda goes without saying.

4) This will not affect the outcome for your character in any way. I am inviting you to do this, and Strop will not remember anything from this night.

Well, that's it! While I write the next few scenes, you may HAVE AT IT!

3) Don't do anything that requires a description that would earn you a ban on this forum (e.g. sexually inappropriate, explicit, graphically violent etc.), because we will still have to ban you... and that kinda goes without saying.