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Choose Your Own [chat] 2
Bogart
Streetwise HerculesRegistered User, Moderator Mod Emeritus
Streetwise HerculesRegistered User, Moderator Mod Emeritus
The Miskatonic University is not large by the standards of modern temples of learning, but it has a reputation like no other. Few seats of learning have quite the turnover in staff that Miskatonic seems to bear, and fewer still have such dazzling and well-secured collections of eldritch artifacts on its grounds. And no other, surely, can boast that it's Assistant Dean has been found in his office, dressed in robes not altogether unlike that of a religious order, disembowelled and placed carefully in a pentagram drawn in his own blood last Tuesday morning.
It is this last unhappy occurrence that sees you peering at the dark stains on the floor of Dean Lumley's office, the august Dean himself behind you nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another as he mutters under his breath about the University's reputation. Plainly, this is no ordinary murder, and Assistant Dean Rufus Campbell was no ordinary academic. Foul deeds are afoot, and their source is perhaps fouler than any here suspect. That trace of greenish slime leading to the window the cleaner has not quite managed to scrub out sets your mind racing, as do the fragments of university gossip about the Assistant Dean's occasional lectures on matters perhaps not best suited to impressionable young minds.
But who are you, investigator? What brought you to the fog-bound streets of Arkham and the darkening corridors of the Miskatonic University to stand here, about to embark on the most dangerous adventure of your life?
You are Professor Sylvia Rathbone, visiting scholar from the dreaming spires of Oxford's little-known but well-funded St. Derleth University, home to one of only three known copies of Abdul Alhazred's Necronomicon. Young, considering your impressive achievements in extra-dimensional science, somewhat austere in manner but focused like whatever the mid-1920's equivalent of a wicked cool laser might be when investigating. You are eminently qualified to look into paranormal phenomena, and your reputation as the foremost mind in the field of eldritch research proceeds you. Turn to page 114.
You are Mr. Whiskers, a cat. Turn to page 356.
It is this last unhappy occurrence that sees you peering at the dark stains on the floor of Dean Lumley's office, the august Dean himself behind you nervously shifting his weight from one foot to another as he mutters under his breath about the University's reputation. Plainly, this is no ordinary murder, and Assistant Dean Rufus Campbell was no ordinary academic. Foul deeds are afoot, and their source is perhaps fouler than any here suspect. That trace of greenish slime leading to the window the cleaner has not quite managed to scrub out sets your mind racing, as do the fragments of university gossip about the Assistant Dean's occasional lectures on matters perhaps not best suited to impressionable young minds.
But who are you, investigator? What brought you to the fog-bound streets of Arkham and the darkening corridors of the Miskatonic University to stand here, about to embark on the most dangerous adventure of your life?
You are Professor Sylvia Rathbone, visiting scholar from the dreaming spires of Oxford's little-known but well-funded St. Derleth University, home to one of only three known copies of Abdul Alhazred's Necronomicon. Young, considering your impressive achievements in extra-dimensional science, somewhat austere in manner but focused like whatever the mid-1920's equivalent of a wicked cool laser might be when investigating. You are eminently qualified to look into paranormal phenomena, and your reputation as the foremost mind in the field of eldritch research proceeds you. Turn to page 114.
You are Mr. Whiskers, a cat. Turn to page 356.
Bogart on
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>protect Duke until the end of the adventure
have we forgotten the directional nubbin and the trackball
yes
well
had
I really want the narrator from the CSB videos to speak at my funeral. A post mortem discussion of my death. "Tom died peacefully in his sleep, unlike his screaming passengers."
I accidentally a word from that url and thought this was going to be about how Jojo is real.
Switch - SW-7373-3669-3011
Fuck Joe Manchin
Exciting and terrifying. It's amazing how the difference is a matter of where you're observing from.
True. The Year of the Six Emperors is equally intense, especially how the last emperor standing is a thirteen year old boy.
this is fascinating
i've heard it like 400 too many times already
Eh, I still like it. Is good song.
eh
~ Buckaroo Banzai
Which part? All of the CSB videos are like this. Someone did something dumb from a policy/procedure/design perspective and then something exploded.
ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
doom
Doom
DOOM
The first shot of the Franchise Wars has been fired. In a few months we will get the glorious hygiene revolution that is the three seashells.
Your Marios need more RAM
Is it because you're actually forty-seventh generation Roman but don't know or care when you're spitting?