Monday, January 27, 2014

Live, from a Static Station Near You!

"Filmed live and on location from across the river Styx, deep in the Fields of Punishment, at the one and only Screaming Tower. Tonight we bring you Tower TV's hottest new show, 'Wooden Wails and Words', where your words will most certainly come back to bite you ensuring a wail of a good time for everyone else!

And here is your host, the crimson haired wooden beauty, the one and only, WOOODDDDEEEENN Girl!"

The crowd cheers, going absolutely wild. They were crying, their bodies torn and minced. Many of them were missing pieces. Some of those pieces seemed to have been poorly sown back on or replaced with a wooden part of some shape or variety. I could see one poor soul had had a foot sown to his wrist to replace a lost hand. It was the wrong color from the rest of his body. White, when he was clearly black. He stood out because he had a hard time clapping it and I think as a result of that he was clapping extra hard. Like he was afraid his claps weren't gonna make enough noise to satisfy his mistress.

He, like all of them, was in visible great pain, but still they fought against it to shout and cheer. For that was this rooms game. And by this point they've long since learned that losing only brings greater pain.

Wooden Girl:
"Thank you! Thank you! Oh, please. This is embarrassing."

She says a lot of things she doesn't mean implying she might want you to stop. But high above her sits an octagon. And on each side of it, it has directions. Like 'cheer'. And the game is Simon says from there. Regardless of what is said or what you hear, you do as the sign says.

She giggles and looks out at the crowd, spinning in the middle of the room and taking in the applause.

 "Come now, this is just too much. We have to start the show."

But still the sign reads cheer. Frantic desperate eyes jump back between her and the sign. They're tired and the mixed messages are almost more than most of them can process.

"Gosh, can't you control yourselves?" she laughs, her face cracking and her smile reshaping to reveal a big, bright, sadistic grin.

High above her the sign finally changes. 'Cheer Louder.'

The crowd panics, as they slowly becomes aware of their mistake. They were already giving it all their poor tattered bodies could give. The sounds in the room turned more frantic and violent as the crowd desperately tried to up the volume of their cheers, many of them standing. Others slamming their hands as hard as they could together trying to generate something louder than before.

"You call this devotion? Where is mommy's love? Don't you just /love/ me?"


The new order gave many pause. Anyone thrown off enough to stop was pulled violently under the stands by their strings. Desperate die hards with some fight left in them grabbed at their seats, screaming in agony.

Those who didn't falter started stomping their feet and positively screeching. It was all they could do to make themselves any louder. I had to cover my ears as the crowd approached deafening levels. I could make out Mother laughing over the crowd. She was loving every minute of this.

'Shut up and sit down'

Everyone grew quiet. Many of them breathing hard, but trying hard not to breath too loud. Anyone who had managed to hold onto their chairs long enough crawled back into them. A quiet sob could be heard across the room.  Loud enough, it seemed, to catch Mother's eye. She stopped and turned toward them. They didn't even see her. They had broken into an inconsolable fit of tears and sobs, curled up into their own lap.

Sobs turned to screams so quickly as she was slowly dragged under the stand, clawing and screeching at the top of her lungs. A brief break in screaming gave way to begging. "N-NO! I'M SORRY! I'LL BE QUIET! I'M QUIET! NOOOOO!"

But her begging would go unanswered. And from there it was just... just more screams the rest of the way down. Everyone around her had inched away, least they get grabbed and dragged down with her. The surviving audience shifted uncomfortably sniveling in their seats, terrified to make so much as a peep.

"Finally," she said in relief as if none of that had just happened. "I thought they'd never settle down," she said to the camera.


And a quiet wave of uncomfortable laughter filled the room.

"Without further a do, lets introduce tonight's guest, Fracture!"


I stepped out from the one spot in the room that didn't have any light being cast on it to reveal myself and after a brief moment the crowd worked itself up into another roar of cheers.

I waved my hands up, egging them on.

'Cheer less'

But almost as if directed to do the opposite they fell quieter and less enthusiastic as if unimpressed once they had actually seen me.

'Scowl and stare at. Whisper maybe?'

And they fell quiet. Staring at me. Scoffing. Groans. One or two of them cleared their throats. I could hear some whispering and murmurs.

"That's not nice..." I commented spinning around to look at everyone before dropping into my seat.

"Guess we can't all be winners can we?" she giggled, trying to slick her still motionless hair back before all of her joints suddenly gave out and she fell limp into her chair like a doll tossed aside when it was done being used. After a moment of not moving or saying anything at all, as if someone had started playing with the doll again out of the blue, she sat straight up like a person and looked at me. Her eyes locking on mine.

"So, first time on the show. That's a lot of pressure. How are you holding up over there, child?"

"I got to say, Mother, I'm feeling pretty good. This may be my first time on 'Wooden Wails and Words' but I saw a lot of screen time on your last talk show, 'Wired for Words'."

"My I had almost forgotten about that old show. I think you were one of only ten guests to survive on it. What a grand honor."

"Well as I understand it, it had ten episodes, only aired when I visited, and I was the only guest on very episode. So yeah. Great honor. In fact, it was quite possibly the greatest."

"Aww, honey child. Is that sass?"

"No Mother. I loved having my very own show dedicated to me."

"Aww, child. If you keep answering so well, how am I ever to find cause to harvest that beautiful tongue of yours."

"You'll never know and I'll never tell," we both said at the same time. An old catch phrase. She loved running gags.

"On where do the years go? It feels like just yesterday you were this tall and scared to death I was gonna rip your stomach open and coat myself in your entrails."

"Oh Mother I... am still very much afraid that."

"Aww. Baby," she says said putting her hands up against her static grin. "If only I could make you short again. Hmmm.... do you really need your knees and shins?"

"Uh, yeah. Very much so," I said hugging my legs.

She squeed at what I assume was me being awkward and adorable. I let my legs back down. Now was not the time to start acting like a terrified child.

"Stop it."

"Oh you. Is wittle fwanky getting shy?"

"Fuck you."

"Oh the profanity too. I've missed this. Don't you like being called Franky? Didn't you pick that name?"

"No. I took the name Frank Tanner. Not Franky. There s no 'Y' in it. No 'E' sound."

"Oh my how you took it though. That poor doctor. He lost his job, he lost his family, and he lost his home. And then you went and took his name. Have you no shame, Franky?"

"Are we doing the rhyming thing now?"

"Surely you've nothing to gain, beyond inflicting agony and pain, by taking another man's name."

I groaned. Rubbed my temple. I hated this little game of hers.

"I just don't understand Franky, what was wrong with your old name? That cute little title you had given yourself when I first met you was adorable."

"Well as it turned out, 'the Fractured Guardian' is shit name. And it didn't hold up when I stopped living in a barren fucking wasteland and had to deal with real people."

"Aww. It was not. I don't understand why you ever gave it up. You were /so/ proud of it. Run the clip."

The lights dimmed and a screen in the back of the room lit up. It started playing an old home movie. Best I could tell, it was from Mother's perspective. Which is odd, because I know she didn't have a camera then... I theorize she may be able to project memories as film. And alter them too. Let me tell you, I know for a definitive fact that I didn't have a labcoat and a cowboy hat back then. My fabulous fashion sense didn't get to blossom until much later in life.

"Why hell there tiny person. Why are you so small."

"... I'm not small..." I commented looking back at the door and at my surroundings. I was clearly terrified. Particularly of the string. A mass of it wiggled at me and I backed up hard against the wall to get away from it. That string had already taken so much from me.

 "Don't be stupid. You're like a tiny life size doll. What is your name? Is it Liar? Please let it be Liar. That would be perfect beyond all reason."

I was a defiant little shit. I was in a room, covered in guts and blood, standing before a living breathing talking doll and I somehow found my nerve. I glared hard at her, stepped out from the wall into the middle of the hall, puffed out my chest as much as I could with my hands to my sides and announced, "I'm the Fractured Guardian. You're gonna stop hurting people now!"

Mother fell silent for a moment. Stunned. And then the sound of constant cracking could be heard. My young self had a visible flinch with every crack of what I must assume was her face shifting to adopt a big grin. 

"Oh my wooden me, you are THE most precious thing I have ever seen. I'm keeping you."

And then the screen went black and the lights turned back on as strings struck out at me.

"Just how could you ever give that up?"

"Are we still talking about my name or is this suddenly about when I left."


"Classy. We both know why I left. You're a scary monster."

"That's Mother Monster to you, brat."

"I know, /Mother/. You're not my Master. I had to get back to Father."

"You should have just signed up with me. We would have made such wonderful things together. I wouldn't have even discarded you when you broke. You would have gotten a glass case. /The/ highest imaginable honor. You'll be lucky if anyone can be bothered to bury you now."

"Yes, yes. I... really missed out there. Clearly, becoming a doctor and saving lives is a fruitless effort. I should have just let you use me like a rag doll and then let you shove me into a glass case when I stopped being fun. I was so blind."

"We'll don't try going back on it now. That ship has sailed.  And then I sunk that ship and lit the sea on fire so you can just go fuck yourself."

"I'll just have to try to find some way to cope."

"More fruitless efforts. Its like you never tire of them. We've strayed from topic. I believe you were about to tell me why you were stealing training methods from other Fears to form your cute little sub-cults."

"That... is not what we were talking about... its also not true."

"Really now? Your Fire Cult isn't a collection of rage cases being taught to worship your Father in an effort to divert would be Crimson Knights from falling under the sway of the ever Dormant Brute as preventative measures to keep the Brute under lock and key?"

"... No?"

"And your Mask Cult isn't a reapplication of some of the methods used here in this very tower to condition and create 'Chosen', my will less loyal lackeys? "

"I'm sorry Mother. I need you to speak up. I can't hear you over the sound of how incredibly butt hurt you are."

A string from above me slung around my neck and lifted me off the ground choking me while Mother pulled out a phone from someone in the crowd. Another string got out my own phone and put it to my ear as Mother dialed, stomping at me in a huff. I heard one ring go off beside my head before the string pressed the button, answering for me. About an inch from my face, Mother screamed into phone.


"Y-Yes..." I forced out between wheezes.

And just like that, the string around my neck undid itself and I fell hard to the floor, followed by my phone.


"Why are you here Fracture? What the fuck do you want?"

"I had an idea for a little show and I though you would be perfect for the lead role, director, and writer."

I looked up at the sound of cracks. Her glare had turned into something far more inquiring.

"Go on."

"So here is the deal."




"Hmm... it shows promise. With my guidance, it could be a master piece."

"Does that mean you're in?"

"One condition."

"Uh, sure. Shoot."

"I'll want a hug."

"I swear to god if you-"

"Oh come now Fwanky. Do you think I would ruin this beautiful Mother and Son bonding moment?"

"... Fine."

So I opened my arms and we hugged... and I wheezed and groaned and then coughed up blood.

She had stabbed one of her wooden hands deep into my gut.


"Dumbass," she said letting go of me and letting me drop hard on the floor.

"Have fun walking home! Oh, and be back bright and early. I want to start on this immediately!"

I hacked up some more blood and pulled out my medical kit. "S-Sure... thing," I called after her.

I had a long trip home ahead of me.

But as you can see I made it. Yay me... fuck my life.

The Lord Guardian Fracture, out.

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

The Screaming Tower (of Flesh)

So, I've explained some of the hard details of my trip. The expository stuff. The whole map quest review.

All that stuff is kind of important for context here. More or less, at least. I didn't want it interrupting my explanation of the trip itself. There was a lot of exposition after all. Sometimes its best to just rip off the band-aid and be done with the hard part. That way you have more time for the fun stuff.

That way there's nothing there to interrupt the flow events that didn't have to be there.

Like this opener. Its entirely unnecessary. Its the kind of thing a high school brat might add to the beginning or end of an essay to make it longer if he hadn't reached a mandatory word count. The kind of thing a crazy old proxy might apply to his blog post because he felt the post was too short and preferred that the post look long so he could feel good about himself. Like he had accomplished something more than just pointlessly rambling about the more interesting parts of his life to a cold unfeeling computer in an effort to distract himself from his inescapable fate of killing or destroying every kid hes ever saved.

... Just... trying to feeling like I'm making a difference for once... 

I mentioned in the last post, that this door is hard to find if you've never seen it before, if you've never been. Well this is far from my first run in with that fucking door. My first trip very nearly killed me... but in hindsight that isn't surprising. This is no world for children, after all. You get what you get when you follow tall faceless strangers into even stranger places.

Being the expert I am now, I know the trick. At least the trick for us lowly mere mortals. 

There is a spot you can stand in the real world that correlates perfectly with the door. If you should path in from this spot, you will find yourself within a few steps of the door. If you do it exactly right, within one step. You can't get any closer. I've tried. Once in, you always have to take that last step. (Look at all that exposition I still had in me? Isn't that fucking great? Doesn't it do wonderful fucking things to my story?)

Now I've got this down pretty good. I know exactly where to stand in relation to the rock so I'll just about always land a step way away.

A step is no where near close enough.

The fuckers guarding it are fast. Its like they know you're coming. They probably do.

So I appeared where I always do when I do this, one step away. My surroundings are immediately engulfed in an ear shattering screech coming from the denizens guarding the fucking thing. As I mentioned in the last post, the one with with spider legs almost ran me threw with its fucking horn. I appeared just behind it and it near instantly threw itself on its back trying to get at me. Stupid thing. I side stepped it and the tendril another one had swung at me. I saw the two forces collide with each other before they realized their mistake. Then I ran through the door before any of the other denizens watching the spot could get involved.

Once on the other side I couldn't dally.

"One, two, three, four, five," I counted, immediately running ahead from the spot I had landed at. I knew I was safe five paces away from the tree. I can't be asked to risk less than that. Not when I know five is safe.

I turned a moment to make sure I had the spot memorized. Looked up and tried to count the number of floors up you had to be to get to the first windows that were higher than the tree. Ten stories, I figured. Seemed right....

The rest of the trip was easy. The patch work vultures outside usually don't bother you... no she'd much rather you made it inside so she could play with you in the same place where she keeps all her other toys. More toys equals more fun after all. Always... so she tells me.

I looked up at the endless spire a moment before stepping in.

I marveled at the solid cylinder of living, likely screaming, flesh that stood before me. I've been told I'm wrong about that before. That its made of stone, not flesh. Simply coated in flesh from her victims. 

Not what I see. I see an impossibly tall tower of living, possibly breathing, moving tissue... the strings and vultures bring her broken toys screaming up high to where I can't see them... to where I eventually can't hear them. At first I thought they were dying up there but now I'm pretty sure they're just being dragged so high that the sound isn't carrying to me at the bottom.

It sickens me to think that what I'm seeing isn't an obscene work of art... but a work in progress...

"Higher than Olympus," she once told me.

"Higher than the sky," I retorted.

She giggled, paused a moment, and then turned to me. "That's not the important part."

Priorities... I suppose.

But I'm sure that bit of dialog will read funny and only serve to confuse you, the reader. Ignore it. Its just me reminiscing about past visits and old conversations.

As far as we are concerned with this story, I'm still just looking up at the impossibly tall tower of living flesh.

So lets stop that.

I heaved a heavy sigh. I hate this part... the actual visit... her.

I threw the door open. She was waiting for me. She pretends she wasn't. She was. She always is. 
Like I'm supposed to believe she was just standing on the other side of the door on the first floor of her massive tower with her back to the entrance and looking at the ceiling on a whim. Because somehow that was just the place to be and that tile on the ceiling there was just the coolest thing ever for that moment right before I entered.

She suddenly turned. Her face went from a plain expression to one of joy in an instant, causing a gross amount of noise as her wooden face cracked, reformed, and then cracked over and over again, maybe 100 times in that moment, to distort and shift her carved features until they resembled a bright happy smile.

"Oh Baby!" she declared. If I didn't already know it was an act, I just might have thought she was genuinely surprised I had dropped in. But she wasn't. Nothing more than theatrics...

"Hello Mother," I replied with a grown. I knew what was coming next.

"If I had know you were coming, I would have done something with my hair!"

"I'm not gonna say it."

Her frown... no, not frown. Her death glare came fast. The cracks in her face to shift her expression happened even quicker than before, adding a violent and more agressive undertone to change. 

"Say it, or else."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Must we do this every time?"

"SAY. IT."

I could practically feel the strings brushing my shoulders as they dropped down from the ceiling above and swayed back and forth behind me. My last warning... a final threat.

"... What hair."

Her expression snapped and cracked until it resembled someone being shy. She held her limb up and put her hand to her hair and gave the smooth unmoving surface that was her hair a stroke.

"Why, this hair silly," she remarked with a giggle. I could hear yelling and begging starting to get louder behind her. I watched as two strings dragged a masked proxy into the room kicking and screaming. I often wonder if its actually a proxy or if she just puts masks on them when I visit to fuck with me.

She just stood there, her face slowly cracking from surprised to a bright shit eating grin as the yells and pleading got louder and louder. Once the poor proxy was right behind her, the strings pulled up, first lifting him forcibly to his feet, and then up in the air where they would keep him dangling leaving him to struggle and scream in place as the thin strings dug into his wrists.

"Just give me a minute, I'll fix it right now," she said joyfully as the two strings that were at my back went around us and wrapped to the poor proxies ankles before slowly lifting him up, starting a whole new wave of screaming from him as he was slowly positioned over Mother's head.

The last set of strings came in from god knows where, and each one attached themselves to the poor proxy's belly button coming in from either side. His screams reached a while new decibel, turning into screeches of pure agony, as the strings on his belly button started pulling all at once... ripping his gut open... pour his insides out on the floor behind her.

Then slowly, the body of that poor fuck was lowered down til it sat on the back of her head like a crown... the giggling started again as the strings started violently rotating the corpse back and forth on top of her head until the hole in his gut was forcibly made big enough against the back of her scalp to engulf her hair. Once she was satisfied, the corpse was raised off of her once more and then dropped on top of the pile of guts...

She ran her hand back down her newly dyed crimson red hair.

"That's better," she said tilting her head, cracking her grin wider, and quietly staring, waiting for a response from her captive audience.

Because that's what she wants. Its the whole reason behind everything she does. Its in her very nature. She is an object of entertainment. And the whole purpose behind all forms of entertainment... is to get a response. Any response.

She just... can't help it.

But I know better than to deny her of her prize.

So I did what I always do. I laughed. It was funny. Had to be. I needed it to be... can't let her hear you scream, least you find she likes your sound.

"You hardly need to dress up for me. You always look good, Mother."

"Aww, aren't you just an absolute DOLL, baby," she responded with a chuckle, unable to stop herself from laughing at her own joke. "What can mommy to do sweet'ems today?"

I cringed, which was a mistake. Its only gonna encourage her to spew out more pet names.

"I have an interesting project in mind. Something I would need you for. Something I thought you might actually find to be really fun. Its right up your alley. The perfect part. A role you were born to play!"

"Ooooohhh~?" she asked, sounding excited.

"That's right," I said pulling out a thick folder full of papers. "Here's the detailed proposal."

Her face dropped in a sudden violent motion with a noisy cluster of cracking noises. "That looks boooorrrring... can you explain it in say... an interview?!" she asked immediately perking up in excitement over her own suggestion.

"Yeah... sure," I said putting the folder of blank pages away. I already knew what her response was gonna be anyways so I didn't bother actually writing anything. "Lets get to it. I want to be on TV!" I responded sounding, hopefully, exited.

And off we marched, up the tower to the set she had already made for the show she wished to interview me on.

"Hey, Franky," she said watching me as we made our way up her tower, "What's with the fishing pole? Gonna put on a show with me?" she giggled, amused by the very notion.

"Nope. Its for something else entirely. You should watch when I use it though. I think you'll get a real kick out it."

"Ohhhh~, sounds fun," she remarked before resuming her task of creepily staring at me in silence with her unmoving face as we made our way to the set.

More to come.
The Lord Guardian Fracture out.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Screams and Things on Endless Strings

So I've been to the tower, something any of you who watch static likely already know. For those of you who don't or can't, that means you didn't see the interview so I'll post that on here later. Not a video of it mind you. Just a transcript. The last thing I need is that bitch somehow taking over the blog because I was dumb enough to put her image up on it.

That would suck.

I see Ji-Je-Jack's little rant earned him a cute little two man following. Nothing quite like capturing the eye of a cabal of cow pun enthusiasts. That was certainly something... special... I guess.

He didn't seem to enthused by the response it earned though, so I don't know if we're gonna get another one of those out of him. We'll just have to see.

But enough about Jack. I'm sure you're more curious about how the trip to see Mother went. Well allow me to elaborate on that with a painfully long cut away explaining far more than you likely actually care to know.

The trip to see her is rough. I only know of one connecting path between the Path of Black Leaves and the Screaming Tower and its typically surrounded by particularly warped denizens. I cannot say who the denizens serve. Denizens are Father's by their very nature but some of the ones that watch this location have strings hanging off them. Some of them have patches of cloth sown over parts of their body that lack skin. Some of them have limbs missing with wooden replacements where those limbs should be. That whole little area features awkward hybrids of elements from Frather's realm and Hers.

I think the most notable of these awkward element blends is the 'door' itself. In this little spot, consisting of two trees surrounded by these extra grotesque denizens, is a single bright red string. This string starts on one branch of one tree and travels from the trunk, up the branch, to a point where that branch intersects with a branch from the other tree, and then travels down this second branch to the trunk of the second tree.

If you walk under the arch this string travels between the two trees, you will find yourself standing before the grand spectacle that is the Screaming Tower. Now you need to stop here and turn around and examine your surroundings to make sure you can find this spot again.

This location is harder to find on her end. When you turn, you'll find yourself in front of a small tree. This tree will be the home to many vultures and to many dolls whose strings are tried to the tree's branches. The dolls will likely be screaming in agony, like most of the poor souls that get hung outside of the tower as living decorations.

This sounds like a notable location but its really not. Its painfully similar to anything else that exists just outside the screaming tower. Being a roost for Patchwork Vultures and a hanging place for dolls is about the norm outside. What makes this tree special is the leaves. This tree, has black leaves. And when you notice them, and not a second before, they'll start to fall. They'll endlessly drop from the branches and disappear right before they hit the ground.

Those leaves are your exit from this place. If you catch one before it can disappear, you'll find yourself /somewhere/ in the path. As best that I can, I've never used this exit and arrived in the same place twice. I'm not sure why. Then again, I don't see why I should see that as odd when all of this is kind of fucking crazy.

Now a word of caution to anyone stupid enough to want to try this, clear your schedule. It is nothing short of impossible to find two specific trees in the Path of Black Leaves if you don't already know where to look. And getting past the Denizens isn't exactly a picnic either. I was nearly impaled by the horned one with the spider legs. God help you if the one with hooves and that fucking tentacle arm get you. Its taken to ripping off limbs and beating that limb's previous owner to death with said limb.

Its not a pretty sight... I don't take others with me on this trip anymore.

Getting to the Path from the Tower isn't any easier. The Dolls and Vultures that watch the tree do virtually everything in their power to make sure you can't catch a leaf. Vultures catch leaves and claw at your flesh. Dolls grab at you. The higher ones that can't reach you grab at and swat leaves in a effort to keep them away from you. Its a ridiculous fucking mess.

I actually tried to fish a leaf out discretely when I left this time using a fishing pole from higher up on the tower. I was pulled down by the line by one of the dolls. I was fortunate enough to have managed to to catch a leaf as I was falling before I hit the ground. When I was sent to the path, all that downward momentum shifted sideways. I was literally flung back into the path as a result. I landed pretty hard on my face. Thankfully, I skid across ash, dust, and fucking wood so I was mostly fine.

As an aside, I discovered something interesting about the vultures that guard the leaves on my way to the tower this time. I couldn't check many of them because they were attacking me, but I noticed each one had a black leaf sown into their patch work design somewhere. Its small and subtle, but its interesting to note that the creatures watching the tree on Mother's ended are being corrupted by Father's influence like the denizen that watch the door on Father's end are being corrupted by Mother. It makes me wonder if there is anything off about the Dolls hanging on the tree there.

One last important note about the location guardians. It doesn't matter if you're a proxy, a hollow, a chosen, or a willing Doll. These corrupted monstrosities attack on sight. As best I can tell, there are no exceptions.

So... that was how the trip went. I had to deal with all that bullshit.

We'll get into the transcript and any tedious information I can divulge about my actual stay next time.

For now,
the Lord Guardian Fracture is out. (I'm off to ice my ears.)

Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Jack Attack: Issue #1

Hello. Devil here.

So... apparently this is supposed to be a thing now. To help break up the long breaks in between posts while Fracture the Fuck Face Guardian is out and about on some senseless suicide mission for charity, we're gonna have his newest ward/victim/pint-sized-killer make little posts and... rants... I guess.

Because that's what this is. Its a rant. And after this one I'm not so sure we'll be seeing anymore issues of 'The Jack Attack'. Because that kid has serious issues.

For the sake of style, we're gonna italicize Jack.

 So... writing, writing, writing. What's the deal with writing?

Pick an emotion. Any emotion. Whatever you feel strongest about and talk about it. Stupid instructions. How about a topic next time! Jerks.

I... hate Youtube comments... I guess.

Fracture showed me Youtube. The videos are great. They're hilarious... usually. Marble hornets and the like less so. I... I'm supposed to worship a tall faceless man... but he just stands there in those videos. That not badass or scary. He should have fangs and claws and big glaring eyes or something. That stuff is scary. 

I can stand! Anyone can stand! Why aren't people scared of me or each other? I mean seriously. Why doesn't someone just push him over. Hes got scrawny little leg things. I mean, sure they're freakishly long but they look like sticks. Can anyone say timber?

I mean, why does this require sages and mystics and hermits and stuff. Just push him over and put him in jail. Problem solved. 

You want seriously scary? How about that tree place? The one with the ground coated in dead leaves and ash. Where everything was black and white and there were those... things running around in the distance. That shit is scary. Go put him in there. Show the tall guy what it really means to be scary. He could use a lesson in it.

So... comments.

How can you talk to the people who are making those videos like that? Like they owe you something. Like you know better than the guy sitting there recording the stuff. They don't owe you anything. You should feel lucky they still make shit for such horrible on lookers.

You know the farmer doesn't need the cow. He can always kill the cow for profit and go get a new cow. These people don't need to make these videos. They can move on. They can fucking kill you and be better off for it with a fresh start.

Everyone will be better for it. Everyone will be happier.

Show some gratitude. Jerks.

Creepy little shit isn't he?

Devil, outty 9000.

Happy hunting. Happy running.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Wrath is a Shroud

So. It seems I win. Kind of. That may actually be a bit premature. Insanely more so than Picasso's precious commentators seem to realize. Picasso died there. She is not, however, entirely dead. Yet. But at the same time it would seem likely shes probably died ever day of this week. The 'reset' function of the loop, malfunctioning or not, would see to that.

See, a reset function sets you back to whatever state you were in when you first entered. This is true of both items and people. Usually this is done with the core exception of ones memories but that seems to be one the malfunctioning parts. The first malfunctioning part seems to be the people in the loop having to suffer through everything they experienced in reverse as the loop rolls back the clock on them. Its pretty unusual to build memories during that process. Its usually instantaneous for the people its happening to so while it technically does happen every time, Moth shouldn't be noticing it.

Second malfunction here, Moth is the only one whose memories aren't resetting. Once more, that's odd. Either its doing that out of the pure randomness of that loop's instability or Moth was the first, or last, person into the loop and those were, for some reason, the only ones determined not to have their memories reset by the crafter who last had a crack at that loop's reset function. The best way to keep someone trapped is to keep them trapped in the mindset of first arriving so they can't figure a way to escape so a reset function being designed to work like that isn't unheard of. Granted, this tends to develop ghost memories over time or/and generate different responses over time through the subtle instability it can induce in someone if left in a loop like that for too long.

The combinations of these loops malfunctions has crafted an extra sinister groundhog day effect that's driving Moth insane. Everyday, Picasso and Navi do the same exact thing as if its the first day they arrived in the loop. Then, at the end of the day, Moth is forced to relive every sensations he felt that day as the loop rolls time backwards and sets everything to how it was when they first arrived with the very exception of Moth's memories.

So much like groundhog's day, hes gonna have to keep living through that day until he figures out a way to fix the loop or escape it. And that unfortunately means that every time he dies, Picasso dies, or Navi dies in his efforts to escape the loop's looping, unless he then throws their corpse out of the loop, they will wake up the next day alive and well with no memory of ever dying... with the maddening exception of Moth of course. He'll have to remember and suffer through it every single day until he gets it right.

So they're caught in a near perfect death cycle which almost ensures my victory. As soon as the denizens wander away from that area, we'll send in the Finest to finish them and drag their corpses out into the path. As distracted as they are with the loop situation, it should be an easy kill.

So yeah... I'm pretty sure I've win. But soon. Not just yet. 

And of course, that leaves me open to start launching some side projects.

So, new project. I've announced a new sage... and here is the louder more blatant version of that announcement.

Click the above link to meet the:

Lucifer Proxy Sage

That's right. The Lucifer Sage. The light-bringing sage. In the more traditional sense of what a sage's role usually previous was, poor Azrael would be the shroud.

And I say poor Azrael because unlike the last sage I named, the Feral Rake Sage, this ones probably not gonna want to have anything to do with the role. But as the Guardian, my word is final on all titles I had out... until you die and I name a new one or until the title can be passed on to someone else worthy of the title.

So while the title may draw a lot of unwanted aggression, pile on a lot of unwanted pressure, and all the while manages to not endear any sort of comradery between the sage and his runner peers like it originally did when the titles were first forged,  Azrael is just gonna have to deal with it.

Because I have no idea where the fuck he's gonna find another Shroud sage to take his place. The question he is asking, the light hes looking for... whether he realized it or not hes studying the very essence of what makes Father tick.  And hes not doing it to fight Father like a sword would. Hes not doing it to protect that light like a shield would. Hes selfishly looking for his own light in a desperate effort to simply understand.

And that's the shroud's job, is to study Father at the core of his essence with the sole focus of understanding. In this violent age of murderous runners, this really is a question only an ex-proxy of his age could have the good sense to ask. We may very well never see another shroud again once Azrael has passed...

And hes not even gonna want the job. So it seem, you're all still fucked. Poor you.

So I have a new Sage to play with. Fun fun fun. I also have a second side project I plan to launch as well. Its a special initiative that should help cover the tracks of both proxies and runners alike from the Uninitiated.

Whats an Uninitiated? Its a term your new Sage used once that I'm absolutely infatuated with. I'm totally making that a thing. Like the 'numb', that's totally gonna catch on. I can feel it.

Anyways, I have a plan in the works to add a layer of protection between the Uninitiated and us... a painful plan for yours truly. What else is new? But that's all I can really say about it at this stage.

Well, that and this:
First step, I'm off to the Screaming Tower to meet Mother. Tune into static everyone, I may very well find myself on Tower TV.

Hugs and kisses, 
sages and wishes,
Your's Truly,
The Lord Guardian Fracture.