Subject: I will also be watching this (for different reasons)
Author:
Posted on: 2015-08-21 15:45:00 UTC
Since, well, I just only got back here, so I am back to square one and nowhere near to getting my Permission. Guess I will have to settle just watching this thing with glee. If it turns out anything like the first mission, this is will so cool and funny!
Welcome to another (super belated, whoops) round of Write the Genre! For the (pretty much everyone) who hadn’t been around for this before, WtG is a round robin game, focusing on agents Cris Wirewood and Myall Bromia, who reside in RC E#. There’s nothing suspicious about this, promise. However, they have something of a problem: The genre thingmabobby (properly called a ‘genre and style regulator board’) for their response center’s console isn’t working properly so, it’s rather inclined to go haywire and change to random genres. Especially when agitated.
The previous mission can be found here, for those of you willing to read it, but the quick rules are thus:
1.You have to have Permission, or either have cowritten with someone who has Permission before.
2.After claiming the next turn, you have two hours to write it and then post. This is to prevent it from taking forever, and to give enough time to write a bit. If you don’t post in that time frame, someone else gets the opportunity to claim and write it.
3.You have to write said turn in accordance to the genre or even writing style given; the last one went everywhere from nature documentary to Dr. Seuss.
4.After finishing, don’t forget to include a genre for the next person to go with! Again, it can be pretty much anything! The sky’s the limit.
The mission(s) for this game is going to be Professor Lupus and the Curse of the Wearwolf and its sequel.
“Cris. Cris-y.” Myall Bromia poked her dozing partner, who was currently slumped over their console. Saying her name while poking didn’t work. “Hey, hey.” A wicked look crossed her face and she grabbed the sword in scabbard at Cris’ side, before she said, in a reasonably on-point imitation: “Hey! Listen!”
Cris Wirewood straightened up in her chair, in a panic, trying to grab a sword that wasn’t there. “Navi, no!”
“You really have to stop falling asleep in here,” Myall said. “It’s just asking for trouble.”
“Like you?” She scowled. “And be careful with that, I know how clumsy you are.”
“Clumsy? Moi?” Myall gestured wildly. With the sword pommel in hand, like any reasonably not-so-sane agent. The scabbard flew off the sword, and hit the side of the console with a loud THUNK.
_
The next genre is Spy.
Lupus steps into the piotion class and sits down. We see professor snake teaching. A mini-Acromantula scurries by.
"Hello Lupuas and McDongaldol and Saursman you are late fifteyn points from Buffalocharge house and form Gohsthand horse (remember becase the houses are difrent in past). "Today we are makling the piotion of Pollyjooce to turn you into a norther person! Ok"
The agents stare at the scene. A stray quote mark passes by, idiot crow style. Myall says something.
"Did everybody just talk all at once? And why is it feeling a bit breezy?"
Cris notices a bunch of strange P-shaped symbols blowing by the window. He says something.
"Because there are no paragraph breaks, and a missing quote mark caused the sentences to blend together. Also, Dongaol? So mature..."
He sends the mini through a portal, and then does the same for another one (prof Snalke). Meanwhile, Snape says something.
"Ok we need some sliver for the poition"
Then he goes to the cupboard and says something else.
"But we tooks all the Silver whuspered Sarumans "OH NO"
Lupus suddenly takes over the class and cries out something.
"Oh no ther is no silver left MOULDERMORE MUST OF BORKEN IN AND STEELED IT!"
And all the while, the agents stare at the scene in utter confusion. Cris mutters something.
"What the hell?! Remus is still a STUDENT!"
Myall covers his mouth, whispering frantically.
"Shhh, be quiet! What if they hear you?!"
**********
Next genre: Computer code/programming language! Write the next part of the mission as a computer program in the language of your choice (C++, Java, etc.). Subroutines and object classes are optional!
Ten: charge badfic Sues
Twenty: Sues bad? Yes or no.
Thirty goto ten.
---
HAIKU PROMPT.
Dumbledore arrives;
Agents hope - but he's bad too.
The chapter ends (phew!).
Next genre: Slapstick Comedy.
Alternate 'that's not a genre' prompt: Sci-Fi.
(We are now on the last chapter. Come on, folks, we can do this!)
hS
Myall and Cris followed McGonagall and Lupin to the common room for Ghosthand House (the comoon rom looked a bit like a giant CD made of silk), where they picked up Saruman and proceeded to the dungeons.
"This needs to end soon," said Cris. "The minis don't step, and they're starting to get restless."
Behind the agents walked three mini-Balrogs. sawsman accidentally stepped on Saurman's heel.
Saursman growled, "Oh, wise guy?" and stepped fully on sawsman's foot, leaving him hopping.
On the other side, Sarsman said, "Leavum alone!" and slapped the back of Saursman's head.
Saursman spun around and glared. "Whatsa big idea?" He poked the other demon in the eyes with two fingers.
sawsman laughed, "Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck!" and tried to hit Saursman on the head with the flat of his saw blade, but hit the slightly taller Sarsman instead.
"Knucklehead!" Sarsman reared back his whip.
Myall rolled her eyes. "Ugh. Enough!" She sent them back to OFUM.
The canons had gone to the dungeons to see if Voldemort had been hiding there, but had instead found a ghost that attacked them. Considering how non-interactive Potterverse ghosts are, it probably shouldn't have been as much of an action scene as it was.
Eventually, Lupin expextro did a expextro petrolium spell, hitting the ghost in the face with a ghostly, glowing mini-Aragog, dripping with oil.
"But it wasn't really a ghost!" Cris announced. It was really old man McTrollerson!" She unzipped the ghost outfit and let the troll out.
"ohno net gain!" it cried.
"Here, let me clean that petroleum up!" Myall sprayed the troll with a blast of water from a giant seltzer bottle.
"Some dinner with your drink?" Cris asked before shoving a cream pie in the troll's face.
"Wah" cried the troll, who tried to stand up, but slipped on a banana peel.
"We'll help you up!" cried the agents. They each took one hand and hauled the troll to its feet, zapping its hands with joy buzzers in the process.
"Baawww" whined the troll. "Dis somhew count as banisnmens!" It vanished.
((And tag back to July for the finale!))
I... can't write this until I get home from work? So I'mma put my claim in now, while there's still time, and hopefully think up something fun to end this on. =]
I've only just got in from work.
tiredgrace can into sleep?
tiredgrace cannot into sleep.
uuuuuuuuuuuu-
I guess it's moderately specialised if you want a working program...
If no-one grabs this by tomorrow, is there a problem with me doing it to keep the game rolling? Writing a story as a working program sounds like my kind of fun. ^_^)
(And either way: can we make the next few 'easy' genres? I think people have been scared away by the complex set in the last few rounds - mine probably included.)
hS
This one's had some bugs I wasn't expecting, mainly because of how the first one ran so relatively well.
I had to give up after five minutes, because I’m unable to read the badfic; it makes my brain bleed.
HG
Silent movie... okay, potentially specialized, but less so. I definitely would have taken it if I'd checked the Board earlier. Pretty fun.
~DF
See, I mainly just know some HTML and whatever code the wiki uses, plus tiny things here and there that are good for other websites. I know enough to make things work and play around with things (broken URLs, various things in WordPress), stuff like that--but I've never written a computer program, and have barely the idea of a clue of where to start. So it's less that this one scared me off as that I literally can't do it without first taking a course in computer programming or doing a *lot* of research.
So, uh, yeah. Some less specialized genres could be useful :) I've definitely enjoyed reading what's been done so far, though.
~DF
Considering my mom's currently working on her degree in computer programming and the most experience I have with that is listening to her scream at her homework... yeah, it kind of scared me off. ^^;
And awesome job with the Mangamatics! I'm reminded of the fact that there actually are manga-style textbooks for math, physics, etc. XD
I am so indescribably happy right now!
hS, you are a boss. An absolute boss.
To describe how Cris and Myall felt as they forged on into the next chapter would be to describe one who is shaken beyond belief, terrified and terrorized by the trials and tribulations of both badfic and a changing genre. With the wind of the vaporized train at their backs and the replacements ahead of them, the agents found themselves in the strangest of place - one would describe it as a combination of a castle and a library, or perhaps a writing desk.
"What is this place?" asked Myall.
Cris checked the Words. "Hogwrotes, I believe. I have a very bad feeling about this badfic, for there are as many mispellings in this passage alone as there are stars in the night sky."
At once, two more mini-Aragogs, namely Hogwrotes Sckoole, and McDongaol, and another mini-Balrog appeared, and as Bumbeldore declared that it was "tim for a feast", yet another of the miniature spiders came crawling out of the darkness.
The agents sent the minis to their respective OFUs before they could notice, and just in time too. For the replacement, having spawned yet another mini-Aragog, declared that there were four new houses: Buffalochrage, a good house, Ghosthand hoyse, an evil house, and Parrotfaether house and Ratrunns house.
Not!Saruman stepped forward, and the Sorting Hat was lowered onto his head - "Saroman you are to bein Gohsthand house!" it declared.
"but that is an evil house I don't want"
"hahahaha" laufed sorter, as the agents shook their heads and exchanged shattered, broken glances.
"The strange feeling, oh how it has returned," said Cris. "We could be dealing with... with... a trollfic!"
As yet two more mini-Acromantulas appeared, Not!Lupin and Not!McGonnagal were sorted into "Buffalosharge house". The fic then spoke in a long sentence about the students going to bed, for want of a missing quote mark.
The chapter ended, with all the abruptness of a chapter being cut off. The agents just stood there, apalled, confused, and scared.
----------
Well, that was fun! The chapter to cover after this is Chapter 5. Next genre: Epic Poetry!
Sorry to disappoint any Homer fans out there, but I think nothing says "Epic Poetry" better than the Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse of Beowulf.
* * *
Time skips swiftly until the students
now awaken, but where are we?
"The common room," cries Cris, confused,
"Did the fic destroy the dorms?"
The students leave, head for their leson.
They do Defence against the Dark Arts.
First they fight using fliepdno.
"Grrr... that's from the games," grumbles
Myall marking down the charge.
Cris says "Canon's so corrupted,
does it really make a difference?"
Myall merely mutters "Yes."
Lupus fails at flipendo, and so
denteintion he must do.
The teacher locks the door, and, laughing,
now casts off the cloak he wore.
The fearsome foe: voldermores father.
Mouldermore is now unmasked!
Fighting fiercely with fluipdeneo,
the poor pupil he has pushed
into a wall. Lupus is wonded.
The student struggles to stand back up
then, from his wand, white lite
bursts forth, bright and brilliant.
It's sent, strongly surging, striking
his foe right in the face.
The boy is "more powaer," Mouldermort mentions,
before becoming black smoke to escape.
The agents look as Lupus leaves
to tell dumbelore what took place..
"Such a senseless scene," says
Myall mopping up the minis.
Cris is searching all the classroom,
prodding and poking till a plothole
is found. Reaching in, she soon retrieves
the true teacher who looks troubled.
"What happened? And where was that?"
The agents quickly close their eyes, and Cris
neuralyzes the nice man. "Nothing happened.
You dozed and dreamed it."
He nods dumbly, then departs.
* * *
Keeping with the poetry theme, next chapter: Limericks
Now, the console thought it was the time
To declare that its agents should rhyme.
The pair wailed in grief
And their gnashing of teeth
Illustrated that damned machine's crime.
But their thoughts had to bend to their work
As the space-time around them did jerk.
Myall - with skill galore -
Made no noise on the floor.
Cris then promptly crashed into the berk.
The pair knew there was no time for craic,
For their environs now were pitch 'drak'.
Minis showed up once more
And then "Dsumbledore"
Chomped on Cris's - er - um... lower back.
Myall didn't bother to inquire;
The fic so far was just Dumbeldire.
With a brief "Jesus wept"
The man knew they had leapt
From the frying pan into the fire.
Lupus seemed to be doing the talking
Though a better term should have been "squawking"
Into random all-caps
Lupus' English did lapse
And at this, our fair heroes were balking.
"It was MOULDERMORE" shrieked the not!Lupin
To the ire of the agents stood snoopin'
"His mum kidnapped a Muggle"
Hissed Cris, with a struggle,
"Upon canon this story is poopin'."
"Does the letter g no more exist?"
Myall's voice in reply also hissed,
"Look, I'm trying to rhyme
People's names all the time,
And it won't always work. What a twist!"
"What I'd give to be reading the Fasti;
This stinks so bad I'll need rhinoplasty!"
"Myall, you sound absurd."
"Yes, but rhyming's a turd.
Makes me pine for the video nasty..."
But our heroes, they still had a passel
Of strife, botheration, and hassle.
Because Hogwarts now features:
'Caer[s] of Magikcal Creatures'
A giant - or giantess - Welsh castle.
Hagrind took a chunk of Cris's flesh
Before being portalled to a creche.
"Can't you say Episkey
And wave your wand at me?
I do not want to start this afresh."
So the Muggle-use wand was brought out
And the male agent waved it about.
And he cast a quick spell
That made Cris feel well.
She pressed forward to have a quick scout.
The rest of the class silent as tombs
As the agents analysed the rooms
"Monkey Christ, more minis!"
Cris got down on her knees
"Next time I'm bringing with us some brooms."
But the canons were looking to hunt
A werewolf. "That's enough of this stunt!"
Cried Agent Wirewood,
Just as loud as she could,
"Stop right there, this ends right now, you-"
---
Next prompt: "Found footage" horror movies that are in no way still trying to ride the coattails of The Blair Witch Project, nuh-uh, nooooooo sir. =]
Wish I hadn’t read that fic. I keep making typos, now . . .
> > > PLAY
“Hang on, Crissy!” The view of the camera’s video display suddenly went from darkness to colors, as the camera was swung up by the hand of whoever had recorded it. “I want to get this on video.”
The person in the foreground—Crissy, apparently—slowly turned towards the camera with an irritated look. “May I ask whatever for?”
“For posterity! We’ll be able to look back when we’re older on the fond memories we forged—”
“In a trollfic?”
As the two humans bickered, the background slowly resolved into better focus. Even then, it seemed incredibly unclear. The location seemed to be made of some grey matter with random bricks stuck in the wall here and there. There were torches high up on the walls, which gave off a dull red glow despite lacking any actual flame. There were indistinct robed humanoids sitting at tables, watching the arguing humans, but—
The faces of a spider and fiery demon suddenly dominated the entire view screen, and the one watching flinched, nearly dropping the camera.
“Agh! Don’t eat my camera! Blasted minis!” From the way the camera suddenly jerked, the holder seemed to have nudged the new creatures away. “Just do it, Cris!”
“Fine.” Cris turned her back to the camera and advanced on the seated people, waving a book over her head. “We command this troll to leave this world! The power of Rowling compels you!”
“Avaunt!” said the camera-person. “No trolls in the dungeons today. Or anywhere else on school grounds, for that matter!”
A dark, but strangely reflective, smoke began to settle over the room. The camera began to turn rapidly back and forth.
“Ugh,” came Cris’s muffled voice. “The troll essence was everywhere in this fic.”
“But where’s the troll?” The camera suddenly stopped on a shadowy figure close by in the smoke. “Uh. Crissy?”
The figure lunged at the camera, and a big, green humanoid appeared briefly before the camera began shaking horribly. The one holding the camera screamed. Then, there was a crash, and color returned to the scene. The camera’s image refocused as it accounted for the sudden sunlight. The big green one rose above the camera and snarled. Behind it, a gaping hole showed where the big thing had pushed the camera holder out through the wall of the now fully distinct building—a castle of some kind.
The troll raised its fists above it, but stopped when the camera-person said, “How does that feel?”
The troll gave a rather hilariously perplexed expression, then bellowed as said fists began smoking. It tried to shield its head, but smoke began to appear all over its body.
“You are charged with trolling the Harry Potter universe and fandom, with giving Remus Lupin a nonsensical backstory, with kidnapping a villain out of The Lord of the Rings, with making enough typos to—Woops. Guess that’s the end.” The troll had completely dissolved into ash.
Cris appeared in the gaping hole. “These guys are coming to, so let’s use Reparo on the wall and get going. I already sent Saruman back home, though that might have been pointless if he’s in the sequel, too.”
The camera view jerked just slightly. “Sequel? This thing has a sequel?”
The human in view shrugged. She pulled out a wooden stick and climbed out through the hole. “Let’s just get it over with. But first, Accio camcorder!”
The viewpoint suddenly and quickly flipped around, somehow being in Cris’s grip now, with the former holder, another human, laying on a buttress of the castle and covered in dust. “Hey!” yelled the prone human, just before her face whizzed away, the camera showing a rotating view of castle walls alternating with the blue of the sky and the green of grass. (And a final, distant audio recording of Cris saying, “That shouldn’t even work at Hogwarts, anyways.") Then, the screen went black.
[] STOP
The one viewing the video slowly let its arm drop to its side. What the hell did I just watch? wondered Slender Man, still none the wiser as to why humans always seemed to be waving cameras around, and still short twenny dollas. It dropped the camera under a tree and wandered away.
Had it stayed a little longer, it would have seen the video viewer suddenly start playing again.
> > > PLAY
The camera lay on its side, grass on the left side, the edge of the castle at the bottom. A breeze stirred the grass, and a bit of blackish ash was swirled up into the air . . . into the shape of a trollish face.
“Ill bee bach”
[] STOP
The next writing prompt is: Manga/Anime style!
OR alternate super challenge prompt: math textbook style!
qwerty
But two hours from now is just after I get to work, so it'll be more like 3-4 hours before I get it done.
Given the time, I don't think anyone else will be doing it, but I guess if you do, I can't get too upset.
hS
Yeah, as you probably already noticed, I'm back.
I saw a therapist for an assessment last week, and she signed me up for a series of Anger Management workshops beginning this coming week. Fingers crossed for that. (But not too heavily crossed, otherwise I won't be able to type the Epic Poetry!)
...do you guys think we can take this to The Other Board? It sounds like so much fun so far, and I'd hate to see it bumped off the front page before it's done.
Each game is a new mission.
When it finishes I put it together in a doc. Consider it a spinoff the whole community shares.
(Advance apologies to everyone who knows more about Japanese culture than I do.)
*Drums and flute sound, played by the A/V Division. The usual kagami-ita backdrop shows only a generic grey wall, rather than a pine tree. One figure in matching grey sits there, back hunched and facing the wall. A second figure steps onto the stage, clad in a kimono mixed with Ancient Egyptian elements, and bearing a cat’s mask and a black fedora.*
“Greetings, travelers! I am Bast, the Grey Lady, come to tell the tale (continue, really) of two samurai warriors poised to venture into the lands of the wizards’ school.”
*Chanting begins as two samurai in grey armor arrive on stage from either side.*
“These are the warriors, Cris and Myall!”
*Bast glances at Myall.*
“Who has been mysteriously genderbent, once again.”
*Myall is handed a more masculine-looking mask by a kuroko. She turns his face away from the audience to switch them.*
“I mean, seriously, girl. Is it the name? You can get a nickname. Ahem! These warriors of plot will now prepare for their journey. Before they leave, they must seek protection for their mind!”
*Entering from the left side of the stage, one figure whose mask bears the facial hair of Doctor Freedenberg, another holding a fan painted with a riding crop—the symbol of Meir Brin. They dance, waving their fans around the heads of the samurai, shaping barriers around them. Before they leave, they each give one fan to one samurai. They hold the fans before their faces, allowing the audience to read them for the first time. Cris has received “COCOA” from Freedenberg; Myall has received “BLEEP” from Meir Brin.*
“They must gain protection for their bodies!”
*Entering from the right side of the stage, one figure with the helmet of Osbert, another figure dressed all in green, with a green mask, yeah, it’s the Jolly Greenman. Deal with it. They cross to the center of the stage, and enter into a mock battle with their fans. Cris and Myall turn to watch raptly. After the fighting dance is completed, they bow to each other, then to the samurai, awarding each a fan, which they display over their shoulders. Cris has received “TRAIN” from Osbert; Myall has receieved “EQUIP” from the Greenman.*
“They must also gain the gift of stealth from the eyes of the unknown enemy!”
*The hunched figure stands and turns towards the audience. This performer’s kimono is bedecked with fraying wires and loose buttons, and the mask is a reflective black glass. It begins to move erratically, twisting about in a strange, formless dance. The samurai approach cautiously. As they get near, the Console leaps to the side, and pokes at Myall with a fan. The samurai leap back, then try to approach the Console’s new position, only for the same thing to happen to Cris.*
“Our warriors must gain disguises from the Console, but the machine is most fickle!”
*After many attempts to sneak up on the Console, the samurai begin to act more aggressively, brandishing the “TRAIN” and “EQUIP” fans at it, while the chanting lulls. The Console relents, making pacifying gestures towards the samurai. It then directs several kuroko to bring robes on stage and adorn the samurai with them. The chanting begins again. Myall gains the green and silver robes of Slytherin, and Cris gains the yellow and black robes of Hufflepuff.*
“Fully prepared, the samurai Cris and Myall are ready to venture into the lands of the wizard school. The Console reveals the way!”
*Still twisting erratically as it moves, the Console steps to the kagani-ita and parts it down the middle. Blue fog flows across the stage, and a great castle is visible through the mist.*
(I only capitalized the “c” in “console” because it’s a character in this context. Don’t even start on me.
The next prompt is: tabletop role-playing game! Have fun!)
GM: You enter the fic to hear narration blaring out around you. What do you do?
Cris: I make a Spot Check!
GM: You see Professor Lupin, who is currently a teenager. Can I get a Perception Check?
[dice rolls]
Cris: I got a twelve.
Myall: Twenty!
GM: You can tell that, due to some foul influence, he is not infected with lycanthropy.
Cris: I write it in my charge book!
Myall: You do that. [to the GM] I look around some more.
GM: Suddenly, an owl appears, and 'lupus' exclaims "I got a mail!"
Cris: I write it in my charge book, too!
GM: While you're writing in your charge book, Lupus goes to a train station in London so he can go to 'Hogwrots'. Suddenly, two giant spiders poofs into existence beside you! Roll for initiative!
Myall: Mini Aragogs! Awesome! [rolls] Seventeen!
Cris: [also rolls] ...I got a four.
GM: [also also rolls] You got lucky, the mini goes last. Myall, you go first, then Cris.
Myall: I want to open a portal below the minis so one of them goes to the HFA.
GM: Roll it, then.
Myall: [rolls] NATURAL TWENTY!
GM: You just catch both minis in a portal, and they fall through, screeching "MY PRECIOUSSS!" Sixty experience for both of you.
Cris and Myall: [high five]
GM: Moving on... You follow Lupus to the bus, where you see him sit beside 'Sauruman from Lord of ring'. Lupus greets 'sarmuran', and you see a pair of--
Cris: Great, mini-Balrogs. Are we even a high enough level to face these things?
Myall: [grinning] Guess we're about to find out.
GM: Roll for initiative!
In my head, the GM is the narrator. :D
So, that's chapter one down. Onwards and upwards! Next genre is... children's cartoon or book!
Cris and Myall chased the bus to station nine thre forty.
Cris and Myall followed Lupus and sauruman to Diangonal Aleye and hid behind some boxes. Lupus went to buy a wand. "This is stupid." said Cris.
Cris was not nice. That was a Bad Thing.
Afterwards, Lupus and sauruman went to the palform and got on the train. Cris and Myall got on too.
Lupus and sauruman met Macdonagol. She was a teenager. "That can't be right!" said Myall, and wrote down a charge in her book.
((Well, this was fun. Hope my attempt at making this as short and mind-numbingly simple to read translated well! :P))
Next genre is... hmm. Let's go with "Survival Show", preferably in the vein of Man vs. Wild!
Welcome back to Brain versus Fic. Before the break, Cris was beginning to feel the pressure:
---
"This is stupid." said Cris.
Cris was not nice. That was a Bad Thing.
---
While Myall was warming to her new body:
---
"Well, hello," came a deep voice. It was attached to a very attractive smile.
---
But what happens when their progress on the Hogwarts Express gets halted?
---
[We cut to a green, slightly-faded night-vision camera. It's giving an extreme close-up of Cris's face, which ought to give everyone something to watch.]
"Okay, so here's the thing. We were travelling on the Hogwarts Express - next carriage along with a glass pressed to the wall because someone can't cast a Supersensory Charm with a Muggle-Use Wand - but now we've stopped. The not!McGonagall said something about an attack, but for all I know it might have been a conversation about the contents of her attic, God the SPaG in this place is atrocious. Wait. Hold up. Myall, do you hear that?"
[Shakycam moving over to the door, where male!Myall is leaning out to look at something in the corridor. This should also give people something to look at.]
"Myall? Myall, what's up?"
[Myall turns around. Bumbeldore and Bumbelfore the mini-Aragogs are hanging from her sleeve.]
[MYALL, slightly pained] "You, er, you wouldn't happen to have any bacon, would you? Or possibly a crowbar? No, that was someone else..."
[Cris sighs and tugs the two minis off Myall's arm, portalling them efficiently to the HFA]
[MYALL, less pained] "Thanks. I was trying to get a CAD reading on the Dumbledore replacement - must be getting a bit cramped in there, not that I'd mind getting crammed next to Remus Lupin - but he's also sort of stuck in a tannoy system, which this thing doesn't have, and then he was outside fighting some weird OC called Mouldermort, who's Voldemort's father in defiance of both canon and sanity, and then I think spacetime went a bit... odd."
[CRIS] "You're rambling a bit."
[MYALL, looking rather white.] "Yeah, my CAD melted and, um, I don't think the fumes agree with me - oh, uh, uh-oh-"
[We cut to a little while later, with a proper camera; Cris is trying to brush the sick off Myall's robes. A large fluffy boom mic is in shot, which the agents are doing their best to ignore.]
"Are you feeling any better?"
"I think I ran out of lunch to make reappear, if that's what you mean."
"Good." Cris rummaged in her bag. "I've still got my CAD, so we should be alright. Now, what did we pack for snacks? I'm not going to trust the food in a fic like this, no matter whether or not it's Generic."
[A PACKAGE appears by plothole, courtesy of their console.]
"What the..." Myall poked the large box. "Where in the name of sanity did that come from?"
"Australia, according to the tag on the outside. It says it's got lunch points for the Cafeteria in it - OH SWEET MONKEY CHRIST!"
"Shh! Shh! Don't alarm the Sues, the - oh. Oh, dear, turns out I had more lunch left in me after all. Welp, soon fix that!"
[We cut to a close-up of the parcel's contents - a heapin' helpin' of witchetty grubs, bogong moths, and other sundry, wriggly, crawly delights]
---
Will the agents be able to earn enough lunch tokens from the Fictucker Trial? Will Agent Wirewood be made to drink her own urine for different reasons than normal this time? Find out after the break on Brain versus Fic.
---
Next genre: Video nasty!
Outside the train, things were not going well - for canon, at least.
"I have powear to take over the whole world!" Mouldermort bellowed. Throwing out his hands, he cast a wave of horrifying magic on the train.
At the back of the last carriage, horrific creatures from beyond the realms of sanity appeared. They had [censored] the size of [censored], and their [censored] were covered in [censored] [censored], as thick as [censored] and just as [censored]. The poor students had no chance.
[censooooooooooored]
"Is this in the Words?" demanded Cris. "This isn't in the Words!"
"I told you something was wrong with spacetime," Myall groaned. "It must have been those things coming through."
"Did you see how they [censored] that [censored] student?"
"Of course I saw! How could I not have seen? Oh, will no-one put an end to the [censored]ing?"
Cris gave her partner a curious look. "Well, yes. Replacement!Dumbledore. You know that."
"Oh. Yeah."
Bumdleore tried to do a spell but...
... it bounced off Mouldermort and careened back into the train, striking the carriage the agents were waiting in. The blaze of sickly light struck the crate of writhing bugs sent by their console.
Myall's eyes went wide. "Oh, that's not-"
The crawling mass erupted with [censored] [censored] [censored]. [censored] [censored] ran from [censored] [censored] every [censored] [censored]. Cris and Myall fled up the train, ignoring the cries of [censooooooooooored].
"I don't -- know how much longer -- I can run!"
"Keep -- going!" Myall looked over his shoulder at the [censored] [censored] and immediately wished he hadn't. "We're almost -- through -- the chapter!"
then the train arifed into Hogwrots.
The train and all its passengers, except for the two agents and the various character replacements, airified, dissolving into the same [censored] [censored] that Mouldermort had. The [censored] horrors were gone.
If I don't come back in a few hours due to IRL things, consider this open for someone else. But for now, I'll see what I can do!
Claiming 'the genre that didn't really exist'.
hS
"For reference, video nasties were dirt-cheap '80s splatter movies like Cannibal Holocaust and the like.
"They ate her! And now they're going to eat me! OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-"
*continues in similar vein for far too long a [censored] take*"
And that is what video nasty is. Apparently.
The video nasty... kinda sorta didn't exist. Think Grindhouse splatter movies crossed with Troma crossed with the mental outpourings of Dario Argento and the other great giallo directors. That was the aesthetic for a generation of horror films - but the video nasty term itself? Conjured into existence by a rightwing media engineering a moral panic to bolster circulation. Looking at you, Daily Heil. =]
I knew it referred to videos that had been banned in England, but I was picturing less horror movies and more softcore pornography, which is why I didn't particularly want to Google it. Unfortunately, I'm not familiar with the genre, so I can't really take it.
Apparently it's the over-the-top slasher movies that nobody ever watches because the gore is just Taken Up to Eleven, past the point of absurdity.
At least, that's how I understood it.
Cris stumbled gracefully to get feet, looking around with wide eyes that were expertly outlined with makeup. "Myall? Myall, where are you?"
"Well, hello," came a deep voice. It was attached to a very attractive smile, which in turn was attached to a tall-ish man class impeccably in a suit. "The name's Bromia, Myall Bromia."
"Oh, I've heard of you," Cris said breathlessly. She cleared her throat. "You have quite the reputation, Mr Bromia--and I should know. I'm your partner."
"And what a partner you are." Bromia sauntered over to the console and worked the controls expertly. "My dear Miss Wirewood, it seems we've been signed a mission." He straightened. "Have you heard from Q lately?"
"No, he's far too terrified to leave DoSAT right now..."
"Then we shall make do without him. Get my gun."
--
Must dash. Next one: comic book.
...Cris was the one who kept becoming male last time, so it being Myall's turn here is completely on purpose. In case you were wondering, and because I had to post in a hurry and forgot to mention.
~DF
A long-barrelled Webley revolver. Six shots. Six lives. Taken. By me.
"Um, Crissie? Are you alright? You're, um... you're crouching on the edge of the bunk again. And brooding."
I turn to look at him. At his face, so free of scars. "You know why! You know what's waiting -- what's out there! In the beyond!"
"Aaaand with the random loud voices. Okay, no more staying up late watching reruns of Christopher Nolan movies, young lady."
"I'm older than you!" I can't look at him any more. Gotta get something. Get my knives. Good for making things as dead as his gun. Their handles are red, like blood, and pain, and loss-
"Okay, Cris, seriously, you have to know you're saying all that out loud, right?"
I am? That's ridiculous. The only people who can hear these thoughts are the dead--
"I haven't got time for this -- oh, for Pete's sake, now you've got me doing it!" Myall pistol-whipped the console a few times. "Give us something else! Anything else! Dress me up as a little girl and get Professor Snape to knock me up! I don't care! Anything's better than this, you smug metal piece of sh--"
---
Next genre: Noh theatre.
I'm horrible. >=]
I just need to, er... figure out how to make one. Not a service I've had the pleasure of using before. =]
What kind of comic book are you talking about here? Silver Age insanity? Booster Gold jibes at the state of the industry? Postmodernist approaches? Persepolis graphic novel style? '90s daaaaaarokay maybe not that one.
Also, I love what you came up with :D
~DF
Let's see what I can do with a mobile phone!
~DF
I would claim, but I've just done ten minutes of searching, and I can't find any clues as to how to write the Spy genre. So I'll wait for something I recognise to come up.
Which will hopefully be during the day. :-/
hS
Since, well, I just only got back here, so I am back to square one and nowhere near to getting my Permission. Guess I will have to settle just watching this thing with glee. If it turns out anything like the first mission, this is will so cool and funny!
