Sonic Blastman's Dilemma, Vol. 1

Tue, 08/10/2004 — Fasteriskhead

"Uh, yeah, er. Look, lady, I was happy to save you from that runaway train or whatever... it's like part of the job as a superhero, saving lives and whatnot. I uh, I mean you don't even really have to thank me, I do this all the time. And uh geez stop STARING at me like that if you could, it's kind of freaking me a little. Look, it's really no problem, this is like a second nat-WHOA WHOA WHOA where's that other fucking HAND of yours lady please please you can QUIT that right about now thanks. Not interested, no no no, Jesus Christ I am so finding a rock or something to put you down on right this minute. And I mean... uh... you really can't TELL? Y'know, just from LOOKING at me? The boxing gloves, the scarf, the charmingly retro-futuristic moniter in the chest, the visor or whatever this thing is? I mean, it's not blindingly obvious at all?

...What? No no no, nothing at all, nothing at all. Look uh, I gotta go rescue some other people and uh you know. You can probably find your own way home from here I guess, and uh try to be avoiding those runaway trains from now on. Later miss, uh, whatever."

The Homos (my custom MOO2 race)

Mon, 07/19/2004 — Fasteriskhead

BACKGROUND:
The Homos were originally engineered by the Antarans as an attempt to make a highly intelligent race of thinkers, philosophers, and scientists; to their surprise, however, all their creations ever wanted to do was suck dick like crazy. Dumped off on a backwater planet and left for dead (for the Antarans wanted nothing more to do with their gay ways), the Homos proved surprisingly resiliant considering their massive handicap of having to pound down a cock every few minutes. Rallying around their pink triangle flag, they now look up briefly from one another's crotches to gaze at the stars and wonder if, perhaps, there is anyone out there as faggy as them.

PICKS:

1/2 Food (-5)
-working in the fields would probably get their new outfits all dirty and grungy, and they have to go see the opera tonight.

-20 Ship Defense (-2)
-they are just way too busy choking down dongs to pay attention to their viewscreens.

-10 Ground Combat (-2)
-too fey and feminine to handle a rifle, also distracted etc.

Democracy (+7)
-it's a tough choice between this and a Unification government, but gay people are slightly funnier as squabbling girly men than mindless zombies wandering around groaning dongs... DONGS...

Cybernetic (+4)

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COCKRUB WARRIORS RULE

Thu, 07/15/2004 — Bloiffy

-------------------
|ASCIIARTBYBLOIFFY|
|                 |
|                 |
| 8====|)~(|====8 |
|   -DICK2DICK-   |
|                 |
|                 |
|ASCIIARTBYBLOIFFY|
-------------------

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The Videogame is All That is the Case

Tue, 07/13/2004 — Bloiffy

In the words of Wittgenstein, "Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language."

The idea that the very problems of philosophy itself are not so much problems, that the questions asked are not really questions at all and all simply arise through a fundamental inability to define our own language's semantics is one that has plagued me night and day for as long as I can remember. Or at least, those fleeting moments of lucidity between times when I am tied down in the darkroom at the back of the Hole in Juan club, being forcefully penetrated from all sides by men wearing police hats, tiny leather jackets, chaps, huge handlebar moustaches and leering, lecherous grins. Also sometimes they have cigars hanging from their mouths. Those moments, periods whilst the semen dries into the rags that remain of my clothing, and the pleasure-pain that blinds my every thought slowly begins to recede, I ponder upon these things.

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~do you remember love?~

Mon, 07/12/2004 — Rev. Ragu

Hi there! My name is Brandon, I'm twenty-one years old, my astrological sign is scorpio, and my measurements are a SE-CR-ET. Basically, due to my lack of education and severe brain-damage stemming from my participation in an underground brawling circuit to bring honor to my motherland (The Democratic Socialist States of Canada), avenge my best friend who was murdered by the evil overlord DALK KRAIZER (One-time VBF champion and former Prime Minister Bear Hugger, we hardly knew ye), determine the fate of the world, and just plain do it for THE LOVE OF THE FIGHT, I was brought into this project to both fill their affirmative action handicap quotas and to bring an extra spicy taste of exotic Canuckian sex appeal to the table. Certainly, I may be mentally deficient, but much like a poor, hairy, broad-chested, budget-Labatts-and-Back-Bacon stinking Paris Hilton, you can see past that pesky lack of inner beauty to my GLISTENING MASCULINE PECTORALS. That and there's some poorly-shot videotape of me circulating around, and let me just say that I was young and stupid and that Bloiffy is a rotten son-of-a-bitch.

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My name is STEREOTYPE WITH AN 'A'

Mon, 07/12/2004 — Bloiffy

Good day, good sirs. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Bloiffiko Breadman.

I was entreated into becoming part of this jolly peregrination into the foothills of gaming's past, present and future history by my fellows-in-arms, who surmised that I might lend them expertise in areas that only ten percent of the world's population might be able to give. Yes, I am here to express the opinions and ideals of the homosexual minority. As any self-respecting videogamesplayerperson should know, it is vitally important to have the sentiments of someone who is sensitive and thoughtful, and likes CHOKING DOWN BIG FAT DICKS!!! Oh yes, I promise to give a Wildean insight into the nature of videogames, with articles such as: "Why We Must Pause and Evaluate the Nature of Chun Li's Underwear When She Performs a Spinning Bird Kick" and "De Profundis: Suffering Is One Very Long Moment... When You Keep Falling Off Those Fucking Ledges."

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