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Round 1: Snowbeat vs rednothing
Larlar
consecutive normal brunchesModerator, ClubPA Mod Emeritus
consecutive normal brunchesModerator, ClubPA Mod Emeritus
Snowbeat:
[vidurl=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2KJm4SqayE]Prisoner 24602[/vidurl]
Shadows darted through Entropy, leaving blood-red trails wherever they went. A suited guard gutted in seconds, gurgling his last in a soot-stained alley. A sniper on a roof pinned to a wall with a blade through his throat.
Shadows leapt the other wall, climbed the moon-lit facing, and broke through securities without a single bleep on the guard station’s console.
Shadows crept through darkened hallways, strangling occupants in their sleep or rolling gas grenades under doors.
Shadows snapped the lock on a certain door like a twig, walked up behind a certain man sitting in a chair, their features gradually becoming recognizable as light dawns over the distant horizon, and-
Sunlight burnished the walls of the fortress a blinding white and drowned the flashing blue lights of the prefect vehicles. The sky was a perfect blue, the shape of the Bogey Moon dim. It would have been an excellent day, except for the fact that I was woken up to the sound of the com buzzing in that peculiar tune unique to calls from the prefecture. It had been so long since my last call from them I had quite forgotten that I was not alone and knocked my bedmate to the floor in my rush to get to the other side of the room.
“You’ve reached Investigator S.B. Street, solving unsolvable crimes, capturing uncapturable criminals, and heliographing unheliographable acts since-â€
“Fuck the spiel, Street. You’re needed at St. Berque’s,†the whip-like voice of Chief Bemis cut through.
I sighed. Henry Bemis was an excellent prefect, but his sense of humor needed work. “Why, Chief, whatever for? St. Berque’s is a prime place for your apothecarial needs, but the only crimes committed there are by frustrated patients and lovelorn nurses. Hardly the type requiring my special skillset.â€
“On the space-suited body of Jesus, Street, lose the fucking thesaurus and the two-chit whore that’s in your bed and get down here or I’m going to “accidentally†lose your license in the disposal,†Bemis snarled.
“For your information, she’s currently on the floor, not the bed, but-â€
The com beeped and shut itself off. I grinned and threw my fists into the air with triumph. Finally Bemis was giving me the chance to make good with the prefecture and get the chits flowing again. Ever since that Burden case… well, never mind.
I smiled and turned around to the whore, who was busy picking various damp garments from the folds of the bed. “Well, you heard the man.â€
The sun glinted off of the finish of the prefect’s vehicles as I trudged up the hill towards St. Berque’s. The hospice lay on the summit of a hill that directly bisected the Eastern Curve from my current perspective. If I had been new to Entropy, I suppose it would have been quite a stunning sight: the speckled grey band stretching impossibly wide across the sky, slowly receding into the sky as it rose higher and higher.
St. Berque’s was a hospice in the Discoursian style: all sharp angles and slippery, sloping roofs. It made an imposing crown for the hill, which towered over the surrounding buildings. The whitewashed walls were, as previously noted, quite blinding and combined with the steep slope and the pervasive heat I was beginning to sweat into the lining of my suit.
As I reached the front gate of the building, I noticed with pleasure that Bemis was standing under a massive pre-fab pavilion. I maneuvered my way between bustling groups of prefects and into the cool shadows. Bemis looked up from whatever he was doing and registered my presence with a raised eyebrow and a cool glare. I waved sweetly at him and reclined against an innocuous-looking console.
As Bemis didn’t seem too hurried in greeting me, I took the time to survey the scene. There were at least fifty prefects busily working underneath the huge tent on various computational machinery, while a steady stream of various vigilum staff were flowing in and out of Berque’s. Actually, after a few moments, I noticed that more and more perfects were congregating under the roof of the pavilion. Indeed, some sort of meeting was taking place. I attempted to listen in, but to no avail: it had been noisy when I had first walked up, but now it was positively cacophonous.
Suddenly, Bemis reached a hand over the crowd and made a curious gesture. Too late I realized that he was clicking a button on a tiny remote control when a huge holo-screen opened up behind me, projected from the bulky grey console I had been leaning against. I quickly scrambled out of the way, but as I turned around to get a better look at the projection, I was frozen in my tracks.
Now, normally I am not squeamish, but the horror that was currently floating five feet off the ground was far beyond the normal degree of gore that Entropy normally garnered. The poor soul depicted had suffered an amount of damage that would have been comically over-the-top if it hadn’t been so gruesome. He had been literally torn to pieces: limbs and unidentifiable bits of flesh were scattered around the blood-spattered room. Barely a torso remained sitting in the chair; it resembled little more than a chunk of ground beef someone had dressed up in a man’s evening gown as a sick joke.
I heard a number of the more easily disturbed prefects retching in the background, but I was not so affected. I quickly glanced over the wounds, fascinated by the barbarity that would have been necessary for such a crime. I looked at Bemis, who was grimly looking at the heliograph. I could tell that he had actually seen this horrific sight up close.
“Listen!†he barked suddenly. Even I jumped despite myself. “This… thing was better known as Red Fenix in life. You know what that means, people. We’re going to have the entirety of Fenix Mechanica on our back. I want the psychos who did this in lockup by the end of the month, prefects! I am not going to have the media make a carnival out of this case. I want the CSI crew in Berque’s right now and I mean right the fuck now.†The forensics specialists woke from their disturbed reverie, realizing that he was talking to them, turned and hurried away. “The rest of you I want either back on patrol or keeping the perimeter secure. Get going!â€
The meeting broke up, prefects hurrying away in all directions. I pushed through the crowd to Bemis, who nodded and pulled me out of the pavilion and behind a prefect squad truck.
“Listen, Street, I want you on this like shit on a troll. I have no fucking idea who could or would want to do this and none of the evidence is adding up. I know you have a knack for turning over these sorts of cases, so I’m attaching you to the Special Forensics squad. Sergeant Dot is leading it up, so report to him.â€
I shook my head, still thinking about the heliographs of the crime scene. “Bemis, before you go, I had one question. Why was Fenix, one of the richest men on Entropy, in St. Berque’s, a hospice for the poorest souls on our fair ring? Indeed, why was he out of Fenix Mechanica’s complex at all? They have a medica building; it’s one of the finest on Entropy!â€
Bemis looked at me and grimaced. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Street. I’m paying you to find out. Look, your normal retainer will be filled. Just solve this for me and I promise you, you’ll be attached to the prefecture as a permanent feature from now on.â€
I nodded. “I’ll do my best, Chief.†I held out my hand.
Bemis looked at it and grunted, then turned and walked away.
Oh well.
You can’t win them all.
TO BE CONTINUED (MAYBE?)
Shadows leapt the other wall, climbed the moon-lit facing, and broke through securities without a single bleep on the guard station’s console.
Shadows crept through darkened hallways, strangling occupants in their sleep or rolling gas grenades under doors.
Shadows snapped the lock on a certain door like a twig, walked up behind a certain man sitting in a chair, their features gradually becoming recognizable as light dawns over the distant horizon, and-
Sunlight burnished the walls of the fortress a blinding white and drowned the flashing blue lights of the prefect vehicles. The sky was a perfect blue, the shape of the Bogey Moon dim. It would have been an excellent day, except for the fact that I was woken up to the sound of the com buzzing in that peculiar tune unique to calls from the prefecture. It had been so long since my last call from them I had quite forgotten that I was not alone and knocked my bedmate to the floor in my rush to get to the other side of the room.
“You’ve reached Investigator S.B. Street, solving unsolvable crimes, capturing uncapturable criminals, and heliographing unheliographable acts since-â€
“Fuck the spiel, Street. You’re needed at St. Berque’s,†the whip-like voice of Chief Bemis cut through.
I sighed. Henry Bemis was an excellent prefect, but his sense of humor needed work. “Why, Chief, whatever for? St. Berque’s is a prime place for your apothecarial needs, but the only crimes committed there are by frustrated patients and lovelorn nurses. Hardly the type requiring my special skillset.â€
“On the space-suited body of Jesus, Street, lose the fucking thesaurus and the two-chit whore that’s in your bed and get down here or I’m going to “accidentally†lose your license in the disposal,†Bemis snarled.
“For your information, she’s currently on the floor, not the bed, but-â€
The com beeped and shut itself off. I grinned and threw my fists into the air with triumph. Finally Bemis was giving me the chance to make good with the prefecture and get the chits flowing again. Ever since that Burden case… well, never mind.
I smiled and turned around to the whore, who was busy picking various damp garments from the folds of the bed. “Well, you heard the man.â€
The sun glinted off of the finish of the prefect’s vehicles as I trudged up the hill towards St. Berque’s. The hospice lay on the summit of a hill that directly bisected the Eastern Curve from my current perspective. If I had been new to Entropy, I suppose it would have been quite a stunning sight: the speckled grey band stretching impossibly wide across the sky, slowly receding into the sky as it rose higher and higher.
St. Berque’s was a hospice in the Discoursian style: all sharp angles and slippery, sloping roofs. It made an imposing crown for the hill, which towered over the surrounding buildings. The whitewashed walls were, as previously noted, quite blinding and combined with the steep slope and the pervasive heat I was beginning to sweat into the lining of my suit.
As I reached the front gate of the building, I noticed with pleasure that Bemis was standing under a massive pre-fab pavilion. I maneuvered my way between bustling groups of prefects and into the cool shadows. Bemis looked up from whatever he was doing and registered my presence with a raised eyebrow and a cool glare. I waved sweetly at him and reclined against an innocuous-looking console.
As Bemis didn’t seem too hurried in greeting me, I took the time to survey the scene. There were at least fifty prefects busily working underneath the huge tent on various computational machinery, while a steady stream of various vigilum staff were flowing in and out of Berque’s. Actually, after a few moments, I noticed that more and more perfects were congregating under the roof of the pavilion. Indeed, some sort of meeting was taking place. I attempted to listen in, but to no avail: it had been noisy when I had first walked up, but now it was positively cacophonous.
Suddenly, Bemis reached a hand over the crowd and made a curious gesture. Too late I realized that he was clicking a button on a tiny remote control when a huge holo-screen opened up behind me, projected from the bulky grey console I had been leaning against. I quickly scrambled out of the way, but as I turned around to get a better look at the projection, I was frozen in my tracks.
Now, normally I am not squeamish, but the horror that was currently floating five feet off the ground was far beyond the normal degree of gore that Entropy normally garnered. The poor soul depicted had suffered an amount of damage that would have been comically over-the-top if it hadn’t been so gruesome. He had been literally torn to pieces: limbs and unidentifiable bits of flesh were scattered around the blood-spattered room. Barely a torso remained sitting in the chair; it resembled little more than a chunk of ground beef someone had dressed up in a man’s evening gown as a sick joke.
I heard a number of the more easily disturbed prefects retching in the background, but I was not so affected. I quickly glanced over the wounds, fascinated by the barbarity that would have been necessary for such a crime. I looked at Bemis, who was grimly looking at the heliograph. I could tell that he had actually seen this horrific sight up close.
“Listen!†he barked suddenly. Even I jumped despite myself. “This… thing was better known as Red Fenix in life. You know what that means, people. We’re going to have the entirety of Fenix Mechanica on our back. I want the psychos who did this in lockup by the end of the month, prefects! I am not going to have the media make a carnival out of this case. I want the CSI crew in Berque’s right now and I mean right the fuck now.†The forensics specialists woke from their disturbed reverie, realizing that he was talking to them, turned and hurried away. “The rest of you I want either back on patrol or keeping the perimeter secure. Get going!â€
The meeting broke up, prefects hurrying away in all directions. I pushed through the crowd to Bemis, who nodded and pulled me out of the pavilion and behind a prefect squad truck.
“Listen, Street, I want you on this like shit on a troll. I have no fucking idea who could or would want to do this and none of the evidence is adding up. I know you have a knack for turning over these sorts of cases, so I’m attaching you to the Special Forensics squad. Sergeant Dot is leading it up, so report to him.â€
I shook my head, still thinking about the heliographs of the crime scene. “Bemis, before you go, I had one question. Why was Fenix, one of the richest men on Entropy, in St. Berque’s, a hospice for the poorest souls on our fair ring? Indeed, why was he out of Fenix Mechanica’s complex at all? They have a medica building; it’s one of the finest on Entropy!â€
Bemis looked at me and grimaced. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Street. I’m paying you to find out. Look, your normal retainer will be filled. Just solve this for me and I promise you, you’ll be attached to the prefecture as a permanent feature from now on.â€
I nodded. “I’ll do my best, Chief.†I held out my hand.
Bemis looked at it and grunted, then turned and walked away.
Oh well.
You can’t win them all.
TO BE CONTINUED (MAYBE?)
[vidurl=
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2KJm4SqayE]Prisoner 24602[/vidurl] 
Larlar on
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Posts
And I looked so stupid
unfortunately, you're not helping establish that text entries can be worth it
you win by default
who are you
Dammit now I feel bad for not reading it. UGH. Curse you Dru!!!
I'm saying it's terrible and no one should read it
which is unfortunate because there have been some good text entries in the past, but this just reinforces the bias people here have against text
but I don't see how that could happen in the second round
I read the second half and skimmed the first part
my conclusion is that no matter how well something is written for an entry, it should probably be either hilarious or just plain awesome. this seemed to describe something that happened that may have been awesome, and it wasn't hilarious, so it is very hard to enjoy as a one time thing
it was terribly written
actually look at what he wrote
it's crap
I'll admit that I'm lazy and don't want to read the text. And it's almost kind of in line with the fact that they tend to be pretty bad. Sometimes out of curiosity I'll go back and read them, but I dunno. I think I just like the pretty pictures. 8-) No matter how disturbing.
I never said it was well written, silly druhim
Tumblr blargh
However, the ring will never leave your finger, and you will be unable to ever describe to another living person what you see.
if se gives anything an automatic pass it's animated things
Tumblr blargh
"nobody is gonna read that wall of text"
jesus christ. it's a forum battle. you watch until the end of the youtube, swif, or what the fuck ever else it might be. or you read it. get over yourself.
i had a good friend from college come into town on short notice like three days ago, and time that would've gone to this went to hanging out instead. Haven't seen him in about two years, and actual people that I've known for a decade trump internet pals in this case.
so, being a dick about the contest is regrettable, and i am sorry about it, but hey, priorities.
i was going to do a comic featuring me-tesla, which befriended snow and kept giving him expensive classy pieces of clothing, which would then be revealed to have all manner of murderous parts, like spikes made out of fire made of out bees, or whathaveyou.
so, now you can hate either me, or the concept i would've gone with, or whatever.
and yeah, i take the jailing, i did know the rules, so sorry PA.
: /
SE++ Map Steam
The good text entries usually have some form of formatting, though. So hopefully not?
On the black screen
:^:
i choose hate