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vitaelamorte) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
entrancelogs2016-09-07 07:55 am
vitaelamorte) wrote in entrancelogs2016-09-07 07:55 am
+ FOURTH WALL EVENT: FOREST PARTY +
Who: E V E R Y O N E
Where: The Forest!
When: Sept 7th to Sept 10th
Rating: G to PG-13 (please label higher ratings, thank you!)
Summary: Could it be that you (GASP!) don't want to be here? Do you maybe want to make like a tree and... leaf? Then how about you do the next best thing, and come to the woods to party! And don't forget to have a look at the Fourth Wall Master Post for event rules, puzzle clues, and more places to mingle!
The Story:
Beginning on September 7th, colourful ribbons will hang from several trees by the forest. Whoever follows their path will be guided deeper, right to the scene of a forest party.
Wooden benches, swings in all shapes and sizes, tree trunks, and other arrangements give plenty of opportunities to sit together. Tree houses and tents provide shelter, and come nightfall the festivities will light up for you.
Campfires provide additional light and warmth and a great place for ghost stories. Camping coolers store more than smores, and all around you nature twists and turns to give you room to dance to the music, to wander in the quiet, and to simply have a good time!
(...Are you the curiously perceptive, or the perceptively curious sort? If so, then you might also notice the small bird sitting on a branch nearby.)
Where: The Forest!
When: Sept 7th to Sept 10th
Rating: G to PG-13 (please label higher ratings, thank you!)
Summary: Could it be that you (GASP!) don't want to be here? Do you maybe want to make like a tree and... leaf? Then how about you do the next best thing, and come to the woods to party! And don't forget to have a look at the Fourth Wall Master Post for event rules, puzzle clues, and more places to mingle!
The Story:
Beginning on September 7th, colourful ribbons will hang from several trees by the forest. Whoever follows their path will be guided deeper, right to the scene of a forest party.
Wooden benches, swings in all shapes and sizes, tree trunks, and other arrangements give plenty of opportunities to sit together. Tree houses and tents provide shelter, and come nightfall the festivities will light up for you.
Campfires provide additional light and warmth and a great place for ghost stories. Camping coolers store more than smores, and all around you nature twists and turns to give you room to dance to the music, to wander in the quiet, and to simply have a good time!
(...Are you the curiously perceptive, or the perceptively curious sort? If so, then you might also notice the small bird sitting on a branch nearby.)
this is gonna get Weird
It's a collision of genres, he thinks. Contemporary with classical, operatic with musical, though even then, those themes find ways to play nice. Whereas this creature, a walking broken code, seems to cause a dissonance that doesn't have a pay off, causing the robot to strain for a satisfying Authentic cadence. He speaks to it, this shambling mass of something, in attempt to ease the unease.]
I don't know why it is you're interested in quiches, but I'm sure the coolers over here could have what you're looking for.
fuck wingdings
A purely conceptual abstraction made manifest cannot have feelings. It cannot generate emotional output and it cannot open those doors and it will not open those doors that always must remain closed to it. It is a bastion of objectivity, of scientific distance.
Its scientific distance is currently exceedingly annoyed to be addressed by this thing whose conceptualization of itself is so stunted that it overcompensates with an ever-escalating roar of egotistical self-aggrandizement.]
STOP TALKING, [it snaps in its swirling, visual, harshly discordant speech.]
you tried and honestly that is what matters
I'd say you should be the one who stops, seeing as ever word you say is an affront to all of our ears. What are you doing here?
[More and more the corrupted code almost scratches at him, and he feels hazy memories of things he never said but could have said floating to mind.
Ugh. This thing is uncovering things that should stay buried.]
sobs
NOTHING OF CONSEQUENCE.
DO ME A FAVOR, [he says with a wry twist to his words, that which he elucidates with a pointed satisfaction - let it cause this thing pain, if it will leave him alone! - a deft dryness wrung out from the blades formed by joined phalanges carving through the air,] AND ENGINEER A WAY IN WHICH I MAY MNEMONICALLY BLIND MYSELF OF THIS ENCOUNTER, MUCH LIKE YOU SHOULD BE ONCE WE HAVE PARTED WAYS.
*gentle pat* there there
[He gives a smug smile, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly.]
And people like you don't tend to throw away any data that could be useful.
[He sighs dramatically, putting a hand on his chest.]
Even if you attempted to though, the fact still remains that I got to stay in the final product and you didn't. Tragic for you, really.
no subject
...YOUR DIALOGUE TREND-LINES ARE A REASONABLE INDICATION THAT THIS SUGGESTION IS TO BE UTTERLY WASTED ON ONE SUCH AS YOURSELF.
[If it is possible for a man to communicate sarcasm through hands, let it be known that this man, this thing, this darkened, unnatural smear of nonexistence across the face of reality, has perfected the means to exactly that.]
THE MECHANICAL CONSTRUCT HOUSING YOU IS MARGINALLY MORE THAN VAGUELY INTERESTING.
[He knows that handiwork. He would recognize that handiwork anywhere.
...he has made another pun. Or this is the first of two puns he has made. Multiple and variegated timestreams are of little consequence, and he devotes no undue effort into ascribing a sense of order to them.
Regardless, he does not make puns. That is not what he does.
He resolves to code an internal systems error into the urge as a failsafe.]
no subject
[He makes a show of looking at his gloves, checking for any scuffs or stains.]
Well, that's an unexpected turn of events! You're interested in my body? I'd say I was flattered but I'm really not. You're not much of a looker.
[He's going to continue playing up the "air-headed popstar" routine until it makes this decrepit code scream in frustration. Or until he gets bored. Whichever comes first, really.]
no subject
[There is something here that he finds interesting. Discarded content, perhaps? His hands still and he focuses on the thing for an undue amount of time, with an intensity and locked focus that some may find unsettling. His gaze is unwavering.
Then his mouth and his eyes stretch open, a darkness spilling from them, his perpetual grin parting until it is little more than a ragged smear, gushing a fluid that both is and is not darker than the void from which he arrived.]
...INTERESTING. IT SEEMS YOUR FULL POTENTIAL WAS NOT UTILIZED.
no subject
It feels like someone walked over his grave as it lies empty in an open field, one lonely tombstone marking its place in the world. All in all, an awful feeling. But despite Gaster revealing whatever it is, it's still his, and he can almost hear his own voice saying those words...
...wait. Was his mouth moving just now? It better not have been.]
What the hell did you just do?
[He looks offended, putting his hands on his hips.]
How did you do that?
[He then turns his gaze to somewhere up and behind him, fixing it with a glare.]
Is he allowed to do that?
[...Are you talking to me-]
Yes, I am talking to you! How is he allowed to do that? That doesn't seem fair!
[I. Well. Gaster is a bit of an enigma-]
That's no excuse! None at all!
[I can't stop it, don't take it up with me!!]
Ugh. Fine.
[He turns his attention back to the monster-shaped void, fixing it with another glare.]
That was very rude, you know. So rude I had to take it up with the Powers That Be and all that!
no subject
[There is only one way to describe the tone his hands assume as he carves the words out of the empty air. And that would have to be - irked.
He supposes this would suit the dramatic personality couched in the invention of Dr. Alphys. It is of little consequence. He has disturbed enough in his lack of time, touched on strings of code addressing no one in particular, to have a plain understanding of what sort of exchange just occurred.
And he hates reading it.]
IF YOU'RE GOING TO OBVIATE ANY AND ALL PSYCHIC DISTANCE, DO IT ON YOUR OWN TIME. IT'S HARD ENOUGH BEING A POORLY-DEFINED, UNDERCONCEPTUALIZED SOURCE OF SPECULATION AND FAN-BASED IMAGERY.
no subject
[The curtain falls and RPer and Character are separated once more. Thank God.]
Oh boo hoo, it's so hard out there for someone who has no rights to exist as largely as you do. "Look at me, I'm a series of odd files that people ripped out of the game, feel pity for me!" I'm feeling my well of sympathy run dry.
[As if it was ever full...]
no subject
[If ever it were possible for a mass of conjecture made manifest to sound supremely irritated, let it be known that this thing in the shape of a man, this doctor with a name evident only in strings of disused code, mined by the overexuberant and the technologically adept, has communicated the absolute height of disdain via his hands alone.]
PLEASE, [he says to no one in particular,] LET ME FORM NO MEMORIES OF THIS ENCOUNTER.
no subject
[He gestures to all of Gaster.]
And yet you just spend it being abrasive and creepy. It's such a sad waste.
no subject
[It almost seems like he has begun to retract into himself, and in many definitions of the word, he has - he has started to compile his own source code, running reduction after reduction, simply so that he does not have to persist in this state of being talking to this insufferable thing for an instant longer.]
IT'S NOT BEEN A PLEASURE.
no subject
[...this Monster is literally dissolving. Good riddance.]
The feeling is mutual, I assure you. Get out of Wonderland; you have no place here.
no subject