The result of overpopulation in the NES was not a good one. Thre unsanity was stretched thin, and lost on most. Only Alt, Chill, Pierce and Mary, Pickle and Shack, and DB still carried it with them, keeping it close to their minds. They left progressively as they tired of the boredom. . . . P: We're finally out. . . . Alt: Yeah. . .being the god of the NES was too much. I'll let that place kick it's own ass as it's dying. M; Heh, yeah. *slaps P* P: What was that for? M: . . . . P: . . . . Chill: Another ellipsis battle. M: . . . . P: . . . . Alt: They never end. M: . . . . P: . . . . They left quietly from the NES, determined to never return to it. He let the people with randomness in their heads to change the paradigm- he would only check up rarely. Alt: We're out now. . .should we start something new? Chill: Maybe. . . . Alt: For those deemed unsane, they can continue here. When the Chronicle of the NES hits 100 pages, we shall let it die. They left, to return only rarely as long as the NES lived.
This is a restructure of the Neverending Story. Posts should be NES-style dialogue intermixed with relevant bits of prose. Unsanity and humor is appreciated, and is in fact the entire core and purpose of the thread. All are welcome, unless they spend all of their time trying and epically failing to be funny and unsane through obstreperous randomness.
Alt: Amazing. . .these people are able to find so much to do with bricks and baseball bats on a beach. Chill: Yeah. . .should we cross the ocean? Alt: Not yet. . . . Chill: Why? Alt: I haven't filled my torment quota yet.
S: We are almost as seperated as Mary and er.. *cough* Pierce.
P: I'm on the verge of killing you brutally. M: It's the bricks speaking Pierce, put them down... P: *Puts down bricks* M: There. P: Skye, I'm about to kill you. M: Changing subject time? J: Probably ._.
Zega: That's the right person to throw bricks at! Good job!
M: Zega! P: *stares at M* M: ... P: You're not going to do it, are you? M: Nope. You shouldn't eit- P: *throws brick at Zega* M: Hey... That's not going towards Zega Bob: Grah *falls forward*
Alt swept his hair from his eyes, scanning the horizon. The ocean blue stretched out before him, beckoning to be crossed. He took an exhale out of his nose, clearing his mind and momentarily showing emotion - something that rarely happens with him. Chill walked up beside him. Chill: Is it time? How do you know? Alt: Yes. . .and it's because the stars are projectors, yeah. It's time to cross the ocean that breathes salty. Alt waved his hand, conjuring a ship to carry them out. Alt: Everyody! And all of the people in the NES! Everybody: I'm coming along, to? Alt: Yes, along with all of us. We're heading out today, to cross the ocean. Get on - we don't want anyone to miss the boat. We've already missed the plane. Alt's hair was gelled back and parted, like some sort of Mafia conglisiere, and he was wearing what appeared to be a suit. But it was comfortable, so it couldn't be a suit. . . . The narrator, Caleb, decided not to trouble himself with such dainty details, and kept typing. As the final person loaded on the boat, which from the shore looked like some sad-a*s little canoe, but ended up being a beautiful cruise ship driven by Flat Top Tony, who had just received an injury from chasing cheap perfume. He set off by pulling the 'advance with the friggin' plot already' button.
***NOTE: Think of the Aftermath as my story, with a lot of it carried on by user-created dialog. This keeps it fresh. don't do anything but dialog, with occasional narrative pertaining ONLY TO YOUR CHARACTERS AND OTHERS WITH THEM AT THE TIME. Thanks.
M: Great, I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with a loser TT TT P (Thinking): I hope I wash up on a deserted island, just me and the girl of my dreams. M: Please stop thinking that. P: Oh urm... M: *slaps*
P: Maaaannnnnntaaaaaa? M: Jeeeeessssssss? Help please?
Ma: M&P,I'll rescue you IF- A: Emphasis on IF. Ma: If you promise not to make any I'm On a Boatreferences. Ok? A: SamDawg already did... Don't succumb to the temptation... please.
S: So. B: Is he going to help P & M or not? Ma: I'm still thinking. A: You always think: S: Everybody thinks get over it. S: I'll got get them *reaches over boat* *grabs* *pulls in*
