You have been stung by a bee and died.
You have no way of knowing how much time has passed since, or if indeed any time has passed at all.
You find yourself in the Unholy Citadel of 6ch. You see here the fucking bee, a choir of the damned singing the national anthem of 6ch, and meltingwax's BFF behind the altar.
To offer a sacrifice at the altar, go to >>2
To join the damn choir, go to >>3
To get back at the bee, go to >>4
You offer the VIPCOINS that you gained at the death of SAoVQ on the unholy altar. Forthwith a great beast rears it's head and welcomes you to the land of the dead.It speaks a tongue so ancient you know it to be that of the old guard. To be consumed by the beast go to >>7
To join in the damned choir go to >>3
To fall to tanasinn go to >>9
To roam the land of the dead go to >>37
The choir ignores you completely.
Go to >>58
/⌒ヽ
/ ^ ω^j、< いただきます
_, ‐'´ \ / `ー、_
/ ' ̄`Y´ ̄`Y´ ̄`レ⌒ヽ
{ 、 ノ、 | _,,ム,_ ノl
'い ヾ`ー~'´ ̄__っ八 ノ
ヽ、 ー / ー 〉
二二`ヽ-‐'´ ̄`冖ー-く二二二
| |
| please find me .|
| a home .|
| |
二二二二二二二二二二二二
Rising from his altar the Great Beast chews off your arm. To your surprise he only consumes one arm and then sits, staring longingly at you as if it's been eons since his last hot bath.
To put the Great Beast back into the altar and pray that someone else comes along to rescue him go to >>11
If you are not allowed to have Great Beasts in your apartment go to >>10
To take the great beast back to your apartment and give him a hot bath and some earl grey tea go to >>23
You circle around the back, which is quite extensive.
You are still in the Unholy Citadel of 6ch.
You have no way of knowing how much time has passed, or if indeed any time has passed at all.
You cannot see the bee anywhere.
To try to sit down and have a chat with the choir, go to >>6
You can also go back to the altar at >>2
To sing along with the choir, go to /kareha.pl/1210690558
Imagine if you will that the world has been machined precisely to test you, you are the final product and everything you do is for the purpose of furthering your own turing. Now imagine that all possible worlds were made to machine all possible versions of you, so you are not only the subject of a turing test but also part of the test itself. Now if you were to kill yourself you would cycle out from the test. To do so go to >>37
If you wish to continue along the long road to total recursion go to >>9
If at some point you cycle all the way through the turing test and end up back at your own birth in this life but you are another person, someone who originally you thought was part of the machine. You realize that the entire world is a turing test made of subjects made to interact for it's own purpose. After doing this enough you end up living all possible lives as everyone. When you kill yourself, tanasinn.
It refuses to buy your feeble excuses. If you really wanted, it, you would let it follow you home, and find a way to hide it somewhere in your apartment.
To let it tag along, but make no further promises, go to >>12
If the situation is exacerbated by the inconvenience that you don't even have an apartment, or at the very least don't know your way back to it, go to >>13
To just walk away as if nothing had happened (minus your arm, of course), saunter over to >>8
The Great Beast rolls its fearsome eyes, then wanders off, but only briefly. It soon returns to fetch you, by gently biting your arm. Acutely aware of what that entailed previously, you tag along in a mild panic.
In the distance appears a structure, artificial in nature. It seems the Beast has constructed a home for you to live in, or maybe that edifice has been there all along. The two of you approach it.
Go to >>12
Welcome to the medical center. The building consists of 4 tin garbage cans and 2 cardboard boxes. The attendant, who you are pretty sure was actually a rat, applied some "Medecine" to you, you don't know if it was medicine or not but you feel alright. Soon you find yourself awake in an ally with a missing kidney, but two functioning arms.
If you can't live a full life with only one kidney go to >>37
To kindly get up and try to find your way back go to >>17
To go home go to >> 12
You bow in the general direction of the bee, and tell it that all is forgiven.
The bee, however, is not so lenient, and in revenge for your attempting to swat it pre-emptively stings you, again. Which should be impossible, because stinging is a suicide attack for bees. This bee is badass enough to do it at least twice in a row.
Anyway, you are dead. Again. Maybe it will comfort you that in all likelyhood, so is the bee.
What is it with you and dying from bee stings anyway? Are you allergic or something? Go to >>1
The tapir looks at you as if your mind has gone missing as well. Insecured, you immediately check on and wipe your face to increase your charisma score. It doesn't seem to have an effect.
To check your inventory, go to >>105
To repeat your request for a phone more slowly, go to >>18.
To ask for directions instead, go to >>26.
To circle around back, go to >>8.
You really put your back into it, and it seems your efforts pay off. The venerable lizard sighs. There is just no discouraging you, is there? Impertinent youth. Does she regret telling you that you could ask her anything? She never promised to answer, after all. She deigns to inform now you that she will answer your question, if you truly insist, but be warned, you will not like the answer.
It doesn't matter, you must know! >>40
Oh, well then. Nevermind. >>41
YOU HAVE DIED.
Again.
As if anything here stays dead. Go to >>1.
Mercer is climbing the mountain, while a neverending avalanche of rocks made of foam fall down on him. But he never gives up, never ceases climbing.
You want to be like him. Not suffer the same sisyphony fate, but eternally optimistic, never giving up, like Team Rocket, futile though it may seem at times. Who cares if Mercer is not real; unbelievers who have no soul will never understand. How you pity their empty existances.
Upon waking up, you decide to aquire a pet.
Maybe you can still purchase one at the Unholy Temple? >>2
Bah, robots do it better. Also harder, faster, stronger. >>44
All in good time. First, get out of the tub, dry off, and fix yourself some nice hot beverage for immediate consumption. >>24
So you want to play mind crazed banjo, on the doggy track rag time USA. Go straight to hell.
>>666
The fruit tea tastes, well, fruity, but also warm and sweet. Must be the fruit sugars fattening up your liver. As the abundant ascorbine acid rots your teeth (but at least delays the onset of scurvy from your habitual cocaine diet), you briefly regret not having chosen another tea. Only briefly, mind, because for somereason you feel unreasonably optimistic.
Now, as for the pet you wanted:
Go to the pet shop >>60
Ask for advice at the temple >>36
Roll some dice >>28
You stand close to the Neutr™ oSense™ and ask for, nay, demand, your tea in your best impersonation of Gurney Halleck. Too bad the device doesn't have ears. Suppressing a sigh, you resort to using the telepathic interface.
Go to >>35
The Neutr oSense™ produces a scalding hot liquid almost, but not entirely, unlike tea. As you drink it, carefully, you feel the blood rush into your meager muscles, and you feel ENERGIZED! Hopping around the room, you knock over all the things you don't break.
Suddenly in need of more air, you rush outside. >>60
You try to get advice at the temple, there are too many stairs and you die of old age >>37
As has been mentioned to you before, you have died.
You have not survived your own death, and therefore cannot die again.
No matter what torment the world behind the curtain holds, there is nowhere else for you to go.
So don't worry. They may not be hope, but also nothing to fear.
You roam the land of the dead behind the temple.
The first thing you notice is it is less like an afterlife, and more like an aprés-vie.
There is a parade in the streets like the first of May in Pyongyang.
Alas, you can not participate in the festivities yet.
First you have to meet your travel agent.
Have you ever heard the phrase: Life is a journey? If so, you haven't arrived at your destination yet.
Your travel agent is a nice guy named Sharon or something, and rather fond of Disco. (Who would have thought?) Despite this, he has a tranquil aura about him. He also hates his job. For him, as for you, there is nowhere else to go but on.
He reminiscises about the good old times when he helped trick an old co-worker named Manny, who has long since moved on. Not that any of this necessarily makes sense to you. You try to steal a glance at your watch to see how long this one-sided conversation has been going on, but time does not exist in this place. You'll get used to it. You have all the time in the world for that. Maybe that is why Caron (or whatever his name is) appears so patient.
You get into a nice little street-side café.
You ask
for wine >>47
for the menu >>48
if this is heaven or hell >>49
where the banshees, valkyries, Persephone, &c, at >>50 IOW, the cute girls that are supposed to guide you to the afterlife.
Driven by the urge to do something, you get your pet and take to the great blue room colloquially referred to as the great outdoors.
You play catch with your animal companion, and you keep alternatingly winning and losing. So you take a stick and throw it in the tall grass. Your familiar hustles after it.
Everything in your home is neatly arranged, polished spotlessly, sorted, ordered, and boring.
You get your pet, put on your adventuring boots, and hit the road with a walking stick.
A journey down a flight of stairs begins with a trip over the first step. Or something.
After wandering a distance of indeterminable length through timeless space, you see a shimmering light up ahead in the distance. It seems to be a settlement of sorts, a village or small town.
Stop for the night >>
Keep on running >>
WARNING: Read the following and say good-buy to your marbles!
(You have been warned.)
There are a lot of things going on in the world at all times, most of which do not concern you, but certainly some of them would be entertaining? The court jester has to eat, and why should the king be his sole audience? Hello? Your money stinks with the best of them (and the rest of them). Et pereat mundi, something will happen to you one of these days.
With no enthusiasm whatsoever, fake or authentic, you turn the lights off (it's safer that way), and get retarded in here.
Who do you want to be today? (And smile, you're on camera!)
A mulatto >>64 (Yay!)
An albino >>65 (Yay!)
A mosquito >>67
Your libido >>69 (Finding it hard? It is hard to find.)
No. Just no. You will not be part of this, insert invective here. Y U even taste? Get heat, get posse >>42
You load up on guns and take your friends to very distant lands in search of blood. It is time to to something as stupid as possible. Consequences welcome, authenticity is in short supply, and pain is more than just a state of mind: It is Nature's way of hurting you, telling you you're alive. So show the world your war face, or was it wart face? Whatever. Death goes down for everybody, and you could do with an easy friend.
Guts for the gut god! >>43
Feast on the guts of some candy-ass zombies. (Don't forget to break a promise!) >>101
Taste a shot from a shotgun. >>22 Bet it makes you smile. Grin, even, Glasgow-style.
Immortality or death! you shout as you swing your card-board sword and join the fray. You don't remember much afterwards.
Go to >>14
Halt! If you can by an electric pet, virtually indistinguishable from the real thing, what is to say that you yourself are not a robot, if not literally, then figuratively?
How cool would that be? >>9
Impossible! Do you not possess consciousness? Sentience? Soul? Free will? >>54
Good point. Better get something living, organic, not artificial, a living animal, not something cloned either. >>2
You jack off. You start with your right hand, then switch to your left, you play with your ass. You start doing it two handed, you keep doing it until you're on the edge. Then your ass prolapses and you die.
>>37
You gradually notice that you tie one on, get your slant on, get shit-faced, and get pissed. Unless you are American, in that case, disregard the previous sencence and it's misdirecting wording, you get wasted, smashed, and plastered instead. Which is also confusing, sorry about that. Naturally, you pass out. (That should be unequivocal.) If you were still alive, this would be the notorious night from Friday to Monday, but time does not exist here. Your hangover lasts forever. >>53
You say to the head waiter: Please bring me my wine.
He says: We haven't had this kind of spirit here since the late sixties.
It is getting late, do you want to check in for the night? Once you enter, you can never leave, you know.
That's okay, you didn't have any plans for the afternoon. >>25
Hell no. Find the passage back to the place you were before! >>55
On the menu you find every thing you ever did wrong in your life.
Hard to swallow? Tough. Make with the chewing.
Actually it is tough enough that even the cooks have trouble cutting it with their steely knives. They couldn't even kill the Beast. Little help here?
Get a knife, get stabbing >>43
Save it, it still owes you an arm or two >>56
You see angels/devils/72 virgins/Jerry Garcia beckoning you into eternal bliss/flaming rivers of lava/Dungeons and Dragons/The Further. You take a seat at your orgasm bench/your crucifix/the board/the cool aid and receive your enlightenment/brands/virginity/acid trip.
Now time to be reincarnated
>>1
Karen (sp?) looks at you with blank eye sockets. After a few seconds of tomb-like silence that feel like an eternity, he says that it might be a bit late for that. You have already passed on, and if the files are correct, you were brought over by a bee. If it is any consolation, it was a female worker bee. From the union.
You don't quite feel the way you've always felt.
You know, anyone can build what you have made, and better.
Don't let it bother you. Times are tough, and horrible, you just cannot afford to let it get to you.
Smile and not get worried. >>the_goggles (You gotta cool down, relax, take it easy, it's too late to worry. The Number Nine train is coming, gotta keep on running. Hey man, put that stop sign down. Let's get together, the night runs down.)
Take the white pills that anyone can find. >>66
Walk away. Again. Tell yourself you are above it all. You know it's a lie, but maybe this time it will take the pain away. >>68
Now that you have ascertained that you are not a machine, you take comfort in the fact that your universe is not a simulation, and your life not some cosmic joke, a pointless game for the gods to play. Only by not having purpose does your life have meaning. Deep.
Choose your philosophy:
Mind over matter >>70
Matter over mind >>71
It doesn't matter >>72
Nevermind >>41
If all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.
These cooks are wiedling knives, machetes, hatches, and also hammers.
There is no reasoning with them.
You resort to the only resort of the competence-challenged, and arm yourself to the teeth with whatever else is lying around, so you have a better basis for future negotiations.
Negotiations begin immediately.
Fight for it's life >>43 or your money back.
Huffing and puffing you run outside and begin vomiting profusely, you quickly realize as you walk over to the per shop that you have browned your pants several times. You arive at the pet shop and ask the man at the counter for a BLARGUEHUE, a... a
Bee >>79
Cat >>136
Loli >>432
Grim reaper >>133
Bottle of piss >>173
Rock >>801
Hitler >>88
Ten thousand razor blades >>37
Your beast has not yet returned from the tall grass.
You have to fight her with your bare hands.
goto >>4
It's a tattered old bag, I doubt it would be useful in fighting a queen bee.
It isn't, go to >>37
I'm worse at what I do best, and for this gift I feel blessed.
>>92
"Yo Mister White!" you hear him say. The heist didn't go according to plan.
"She shot me! I can't believe she shot me! Oh no, I know a dirty word!" Her gun is safely in your possession now. It was very considerate of her to furnish you with a weapon. She used it only once, to defend her car. In her defense, her car is fine, exept for the blood and bits of her brain. Soon even that will be cleansed with fire.
"Yo Mister White! I'm dying here! Take me to a hospital!"
The heist didn't go according to plan. Now he is bleeding profusely all over the back seat like a pig. (Do you smell bacon?)
>>100 Take him to a hospital, and trust that he won't sing like a canary.
>>102 Stick to the plan: Take him to the safe-house.
You feel relaxed.
Every sound you hear relaxes you further. Just you and the sound.
Your arms and legs feel heavy.
Very very heavy, like lead.
Every sound takes you deeper and deeper.
Nothing can disturb you.
Every muscle, every part of your body is relaxing further and further, as you drift down deeper and deeper.
You are riding down an escalator, slowly going down farther and farther, into
>It feels so good.
>Way, way down.
>You are floating high above the Earth, in deep space, looking out on the universe. Floating free in space
silently watching the movement of the stars.
Truth, beauty, longevity, and prosperity. >>73
Ain't nobody got time for that! Live fast, die young! >>74
A person is only as great as the smallest thing that disturbs it.
Therefore, mosquitoes are pretty great.
If you had a piece of soap, maybe you could catch one and draw it into your sketchbook, but you don't.
Mosquitoes are not apex predators - they get eaten by birds and spiders, and for good reason (not necessity).
They do, however, suck the blood of humans. Not for sustenance even, but merely for procreation.
They sit high above you on the food chain, mockingly.
Some say they were created to keep humans humble, but frankly they don't care what you think.
They also don't care that they give you malaria.
Maybe you find solace that despite this purposeless pest, the Earth is yours,
minus the parts deep underwater, which is the absolute majority of the planet,
and the highest faults, majestically rising above the breathable air with less height difference from sea level than the orb's eccentricity.
Yea verily, almost none of the planet is yours. And that you have to share with mosquitoes and bees.
If all the bees die, all humans will follow.
If all the mosquitoes die, everyone else will breath a sigh of relief (especially the horses).
It's a good thing you are dead already.
Where to now, oh mighty one?
>>75 The World's End
>>74 The Golden Mile
It comes on anyhow.
A group of hand people are standing around a theremin named Yeruchum Rose, singing the song of the midnight ranger.
This, is it. You won't be lonely. >>66
To live forever yo stop your life, what a pity you ended up here.
>>1
We want to be free to do want we want to do! And we want to get loaded! And we want to have a good time and that's what we are gonna do!
Tonight, we will be partaking of a liquid as we wind our way up the Golden Mile commencing with an inaugural tankard in the First Post >>1, then on to the Old Familiar, the Good Companion, the Trusty Servant, the Two-Headed Dog, the Mermaid, the Beehive, the King's Head, and the Hole In The Wall for a measure of the same. All before the last bittersweet pint in that most fateful, the World's End >>75. Leave a light on good lady, although we may return with a twinkle in our eyes, we will be in truth blind drunk.
Here we go again. Like it's 1973.
Get your gear and start to spend.
The moon and the stars, they look down on you and say there's a correlation between tomorrow and today.
Tomorrow's dream has never been a part of you. Shop till you drop, with total dedication! >>60
We live in borrowed time. Faster living, faster, live as fast as you're able! >>74
You wonder why you said that as time recurses around you.
Ever fading to black the shopkeep mutters something about allergies and the faint beep of the hospital fades in.
The familiar cold chill starts gnawing at your spine.
You want to vomit as you know what happens next.
You feel like your insides are coming up.
Then you wake up again.
>>1
Too good to be true.
But the truth is out there.
Go to >>107 and wait for the aliens to come.
The carpets are getting bigger now. Or maybe it's you that's getting smaller. Either way, your feet burn with friction. You plunge your sword into the carpet and it screams. Carpet guts begin to gush and you tumble over. The carpet folds over you and all grows dark. As the carpet rolls, you flip and crash, unable to control your own movements. It's all you can do to keep yourself from being impaled on your own sword.
Unfortunately you didn't see the train coming.
Even more unfortunately you died of old age.
>>37
The crowd loves you. In front of you is a big machine with lots of buttons and dials. You're wearing sunglasses, but the strobe lights are so bright you can still make out most of it.
Cautiously twiddle the serious-looking dial: >>45
Move the throttle-thing up and down like Scotty does when he's beaming someone aboard: >>66
Push a button that appears to be glowing tie dye: >>49
You are stuck in a locker. Through the vent slits you can see that in there with out is a pocket knife, an envelope some books and a backpack. You can't hear anything else going on outside.
>>85 Wait for help.
>>134 Attempt to open and read the envelope.
>>135 Attempt to read some of the books.
>>136 Take the pocket knife and use it to open the locker.
>>85 Bang on the locker for help.
>>137 [Okay, I've been banging on this locker for a long time now.]
10/10 PERFECT