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Edited by Tartan 118:
7/11/2014 11:35:25 AM
36
The Floodyssey II: B.next's Destiny (finished nao)
The world is changed.
I read it in the updates. I see it in the posts. I feel it in the Likes.
Much that once was is lost, for few remain who remember it.
It began with the foundation of the Forums. Three for the heart of Bungie: the Septagon for its community, ancient and proud; The Universe, for all of Bungie’s most beloved creations; The News Forum, a grand repository of all tidings from the lords themselves.
Next came a new breed, quieter but more focused: The Voting Booth for the community’s voice; The Gallery for its hands and minds to craft its own interpretations of the lords’ creations; The Classified for the rampant recruitment of eager volunteers for budding bands of brothers, though many cries fell unanswered into the dark abyss of eternity.
The game forums blossomed with every new era; each shone as a beacon in the mediocrity and despair of the Internet, gathering all towards their alien worlds, beautiful, yet menacing.
Then there was the Flood, whose denizens above all else crave anarchy.
Equilibrium was brief; The Flood boiled and writhed in its freedom. The fires of war erupted as its peoples spewed hatred at each other. Towers as high as mountains tumbled into themselves as walls of text collapsed into nonsensical pits, snapping and churning any who dared challenge or enter their illogical arguments. It is in this bedlam, dear reader, that we find ourselves.
“TAKE COVER!”
Dr TimothyLeary looked up. “Another attack by COWPIE?”
“What?” Bungie Sam cried back. “No, Challenger X being a dick about lonepaul again.”
“Oh, ok.” DTL nodded. “We’ll need a counter: Capiton!”
The disgruntled Myth zomble turned to him. “Yuh-huh?”
“Prepare your wang.”
And then every cheered.
“Potassium cannons are ready!” Camm kalled from her korner.
“Canon cannons ready,” Lord of Admirals and Chronarch added.
“Awesome,” DTL responded. “Tartan, is the parody canon cannon ready?”
“What? Do you even know about the parodies?”
“[i]Whaaaaaaaa?[/i]” Camm chimed Britishly.
“ERMAGERD CERGHMMTERCULERGH" Tartan gushed, the red bits nearly popping out of the holes in the 8. “I have a banana here with your name on it. And I don’t mean the fruit this time.”
“One banana?” ChaosFighter laughed heartily, his white-on-black, bird-on-shield emblem proud on his chest. “I have MORE THAN ONE. MOAR.”
Tartan grinned at him. “But less than three?”
“Oh, of course,” Chaos gleed.
“I mean fewer. Damnit. Doesn’t work with proper English. Do I need a semicolon there? Guhh.”
“MENTLEGEN!” DTL thundered. “Damnit, you got me so mad that I said-”
DJ Mentle span on his chair, staring at everyone with his horrified Reach marine face. “ohai…. and too far. Okay, back to work.”
“Damn straight!” DTL yelled. “This is [i]important[/i]!”
edableshoe span on his chair too. Somehow. Maybe he used shoelaces. “Spinny office chairs for everyone… nausea for everyone…”
“beatingadeadhorse.gif” SonOfTheShire opined, kicking his hairy hobbit feet playfully.
DTL facepalmed. “Did either of you have a point? We’re in the middle of a battle here. A really important battle for the sake of the-”
“Well, there’s what sunk Kitchen 8 and Schwippy Tree,” Ch33zyburrito fretted, ch33zing about and pointing at the radar screen. “THEY’RE SINKING THREADS WITH A GIANT
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“Okay, that’ll do for now!” DTL snapped, his double chevron aquiver. “In between that, Rose, the army of Camnator alts led by Comms Officer not because they’re the same person but because ‘Officer’, Fox News spreading propaganda because ‘news’, and angry0lbgrampa, PSU and BADMAGIK just generally being terrible human beings, what else we got?”
“If by ‘we’ you mean the British master race,” lonepaul piped up, the Hunter watching everyone wryly as he approached a Cabal monstrosity, “then plenty.” He snapped his fingers. “ARGH! No, say I clicked my fingers!”
“Bongistanians!” bellowed IIx luke xIII, surprising everyone by looking like Kat but having a male voice. “Assemble!”
Somewhere, Big Ben- well, not somewhere: London. Big Ben struck seven o’clock. There was a rush of wind smelling of salted chips drowned in vinegar, accompanied by fried cod, as well as tea, teeth, and stereotypes. DTL blinked. Camm moistened.
“BEHOLD!” cried the gleaming humanoid titan of Union Flag and TARDIS that now stood before the The Flood. “CORN- I mean PSYCHOLEMON GATSBACON.”
Zizou looked on, his glorious mane sagging with the disappointment that he lived in the Republic. Or does he? I think he does. Let me check my PMs. Aaaaaaaand all we’ve talked about is Game of Thrones. Oh well. At least you’re in, Ziz. ;)
A Cheese Potato also looked on. He lives in Australia. No debate there. The cheese sagged and the potato sagged. Then perked up happily with this cameo.
edableshoe span back to face DTL. “Oh yes, I remember what- Sir, call from the president for you.”
DTL inhaled deeply, his eyes on the Transformalike’s iron hide, clad in Lemon’s impenetrable sarcasm. Maybe there was hope. He turned to the screen. “Ooh, I love the little tickly sound Skype makes… Sir. Wait, you’re not Tartan.”
“I’m glad you noticed,” Plasma Eagle replied. “What’s the situation?”
“With the awesomeness of the Brits and all of us working together, we might just stand a chance,” DTL explained.
“Yay!” Tartan cried suddenly, leaping from his chair. “Brits AWAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!118”
“Wait,” Gatsby murmured. “Tarty, if you keep using your own number instead of Bungie’s to unite us all, this isn’t going to-”
There was a crash.
In a hail of crumpets, Jammie Dodgers and bow-ties, the Brittron 7000 collapsed to the ground and the screen shook like in a cartoon. Go on, shake your computer screen. Yes you, INSERT FLOODIAN NAMEDROP HERE.
“Me?”
“Shut up, Beetle.”
“By Marty’s melodies,” Eagle sighed, rubbing his forehead, or at least attempting to. Because he’s a bird made out of plasma. “What in Seven, uh, Sevens are we going to do?”
“Sir, new contact,” burrito began, making everyone spin towards him, and therefore feel sick once more, including DTL even though he was stood up and not on a chair, the silly ragamuffin. “Okay, can I-.... unknown classification.”
DTL glared at the radar over shoe’s shoulder. An ankle, if you will. Or not. Let’s go with not because it was burrito who’s in front of him. “KakaCarrotCake, obligatory Dragonball meme reference?! I mean, what does the scouter say about his power level?!”
“Btw it’s Vegeta who says that, but I don’t think- uh, IT’S OVER NINE- Oh, wait, my bad, it’s…. [i]7777[/i]!”
The very air itself shuddered and thundered. There were cracks in the very seams of space and time, and reality itself seemed to distort.
“whut” Hipi said Dinklagely.
The roof ripped off. The Flood stared upward in awe as a septitude of ...oh, okay. Google Docs reckons septitude is indeed a word. Uh, where was I? Oh yeah, [i]a septitude of lightning bolts cracked the sky and should I stop the italics? Too much?[/i] Okay. And stop interrupting myself, probably.
Lightning bolts cracked the sky as a figure descended from the heavens, clad in bronzed or purple or his favourite coloured armour, and sporting a pair of sunglasses and a smug grin.
“ALLFATHER ACHRONOS,” Elegiac wailed in fear, fearfully fearing that this was indeed his final stint of shitposting, despite being a well-loved member on Our Side, or is that just me?
“Has the day finally come?” Forky croaked, gazing at the sky until his neck ached. Or his fork tines could go no higher. And consequently ached. “Ow.”
“What, July 7th?” Achronos asked. “Yeah.”
“Awesome,” True Underdog grinned from the HFCS bunker, deep under the bowels of The Flood HQ. That’s right, [i]under[/i] the bowels. This shit goes deep. “What do we get this year?”
“Something that didn’t actually happen on Bungie Day,” Achronos explained with a chuckle. The laughter deepened with a metallic echo, and the Overlord’s chest armour unfolded, revealing a chamber in his chest. Reaching into his torso, he heaved out a titanic, oval-shaped object, a fin on one end, holding it aloft.
“Well, I meant the day that Achronos nuked the Flood, actually,” Forky said. “So yeah. Also, Achronos as a nuke-producing cyborg? That's either hilarious or awesome. Hell, why not both?"
“I don’t care,” Smiggles laughed, shaking her head. “I’m totally drawing that shit.”
The bomb tumbled to the earth. The world watched and waited. Then, Achronos whipped out his shotgun and detonated the thing prematurely, much like a Floodian inside a woman. Also, because Achronos is a shotgun whore. Seriously. Bungie Podcast. Listen.
-
1 ReplyEdited by Tartan 118: 7/11/2014 11:37:51 AM(Part 3) “What time we expecting him back?” DTL asked, checking his watch. “Any time now,” irishfreak replied. “Althoooooouuuugh….” Camm sighed, rolling dem eyes. “What?” “Well, the alpha was extended by like a day. So he’s probably still playing it. Getting his fill.” Spawn blinked. “Remind us why [i]you’re [/i]not playing it.” “There’s one Strike, one story mission, some freeroaming, the Tower and one game mode on two maps,” irish explained. “I’ve been playing it solidly since it was available, god knows how I’m still coherent let alone alive, but yeah. I’ve had my fill.” “Okay, I made that bit up.” The Flood turned and gazed in awe: the wait for the beta had begun. “No. Hey. I’m over here.” Oh yeah, and Tartan was back from playing the alpha all weekend, but like 18 people cared. “Lies.” Okay, 8. “I’m sorry, are you laying the smack on yourself right now?” Bitch, I might be. “Talk about a circlejerk. Or just plain selfjerk. Jerk. Wank.” Gatsby looked up: no-one had noticed. One of his feet breathed in the summer heat. “So…” Dropship began, attempting to mask his envy. “How was the alpha?” “Couldn’t have checked out the multitude of threads everyone else made about it, then?” Tartan asked dubiously. “Sorry for trying to make conversation.” “Something I’ve said to Camm, numerous times. And yeah, you will be sorry, when SPLOOSH. Oh my gods. It was so awesome. Like, the gameplay felt as familiar and fun and cool as Halo, yet different enough to be interesting and exciting and new. I honestly feel like this could be the big new franchise Bungie wants it to be, another enormous gaming platform, a cultural entity on which to build endless hours of fun and countless amazing friendships all over again. It felt that good. The gunplay is slick and tight and the enemies are-” “Who tuned out when he said, ‘Oh my gods’?” Brad Pitt asked, Johnson grimacing at the screen with exhaustion. “What a douche.” “ohwaityoureserious.gif” Lemon countered. “If he’s going to take any deity’s name in vain, I’m glad it’s some pagan gods,” Avy added. “Even if he doesn’t really believe in them and is just making fun of Christians, it’s better than misusing the Lord’s Name.” “M’aiq understands that Tartan is writing this,” M’aiq the Liar contributed. “But M’aiq hopes Tartan doesn’t make the rest of this about himself.” “Wait, wait,” HunnedJono realised like the glistening H2 logo he is, connecting the dots and then colouring in the rest of his ...colouring book. “Are you Teh Puma?” “Maybe,” M’aiq the Liar lied. I… don’t know if saying ‘maybe’ could ever be a lie. It’s like a Schroedinger paradox. Or something. “-and though my hand cannon was powerful, the rate of fire was slightly sluggish compared to this auto rifle I found with an equally awesome damage yield,” Tartan ploughed on. “Which gives me an idea for a parody I might brew up for the game. So, there’s the Gardeners-” “Whale then,” Space Whale bellowed. “Are we just whalting for the blueta now or is something else harpooning? What was the Bungie Day seiprise?” Suddenly, power cut. Just kidding, it was Hylebos! No, I’m not saying Hylebos is like a power cut. I’m writing this before Bungie Day, so I can’t- never mind. “Hello, my marine friend,” he began, a smile on his Spiker-barrel face and a ‘Mentor’ badge gleaming on his barrel chest. “The Bungie Day treats will arrive shortly. Head over to bungie.net now to see if they’re on the front page yet. The big news this year is that… nah, I won’t spoil the surprise. :)” “Like you could,” Dropship snorted. “Actually, Mentors are given early access to… no, just kidding.” “Ninjas got early alpha access,” Wolva Wonka countered. “But I’m not a Ninja,” Hylebos pointed out. “Now, let’s add some colour in this place, shall we? Ah yes...” He raised a hand to the sky. Darkness clouded the impenetrable white, gathering towards where Hylebos curled a claw. Because of like clawing your hand with power. Clenching it, but not into a closed fist. Lightning leapt between storm clouds, thunder roaring in the sky. The clouds grew denser and denser, the mass growing ever larger until it swallow the rest of the white above. Then, they dispersed. A flawless blue sky emerged from the darkness, streaked with white contrails high above, arcing over an enormous orange dessert “Orange jelly?” Dropship asked, wibbling. Lemon loured. “Not lemon. Damnit.” I mean an orange desert, a soft breeze whipping up fingers of sand, crumbling rocks and dry plants dotting the landscape, choking on the dust. “a baren landscape, desolate and endless,” BlueSkyfish concluded. “thats what bgunie.net became after that update?? Come on tarrrrtan, you can descrieb bettur” Damnit, Skyfish, there’s not much to say about the place. And what are you even doing here? When was the last time you were on Bnet? Get back to the weeaboo, anime, Dark Souls and Japanese shit only site with Pyro and Teapot and Jeffers and Stu. Anyone else on Bnet remember Pyroshark anymore? “Well, it’s not entirely barren,” IngloriousWho remarked, looking around as the wind descriptively whipped everyone’s hair and Recon’s ...glasses. “Look over there.” He pointed to an enormous, gleaming, bronzed metropolis in the distance, dozens of towers soaring skyward, encased in a gargantuan glass globe. I have to say, it looked a lot like a pipe organ. “Holy TARDIS of Gallifrey!” Tartan exclaimed, holding that delicious hair of his. “TARDIS…” Engrapadora realised. “...Are we on some planet from Doctor Who?” “Not just some planet,” Chronarch explained. “[i]The [/i]home planet of the Time Lords. Question is, why does Bnet look like a place from a British scifi TV series?” “Because,” Hylebos began, floating above like a Wizard from the Moon, “look! ….Hold on.” One the side of the barrel of the Spiker, as is his avatar, and once I’m done with all this I’ll go back and make everyone else look like their avatar, a device popped out; a very tiny projector, uh, projected a hologram that everyone frowned at until they realised it was a mirror image of Bnext. “And… uh, it’s really hard for me to do this as a Spiker without arms… thank you, Tartan. And unmute, unmute, unmute… ad infinitum… there!” The projection disappeared and he span around, pointing to the sky. “Now do you see them?” “Well, we could all see them,” Roose Bolton said, grimming like a hardass Northern bastard. Unlike Ramsay, who is an actual Northern bastard and therefore didn’t need the word ‘like’. “but look!” Gojira pointed with a giant, scaly finger the size of a bus and my penis. “ARCADIA!” “No, but this is why Bnet looks like Gallifrey,” Hylebos said. “The Thyme War- I mean, the Flame Wars.” Many members shook their heads in dismay, others gasping with terror as they realised what they were seeing: the enormous backside of a black woman bouncing up and down against the sky, rubbing a fire against the sky trenches around the planet. Behind her, lounging on an armchair, a tremendous, kinda chubby boy with dark hair in a crew cut, lazily tossing crumpled green notes at her, a lit joint held between his lips, and a TV beside him, Xbox 360 controller in his hand as he played Babby’s First RTS. On the other side of the horizon, another hundred clones of the boy stormed the sky trench, burning it with their blunts and commanding hordes of brightly-monochromed Halo characters, all overwatched by a shadowy figure, the crimson fires of war burning behind him as his eyes blazed a menacing red. Probably because of all the weed the Camnator alts were smoking.
