Gamma Fiend

Looks like about a good time to wrap this one up! Many thanks and kudos to Wyrm for GM'ing what looked like a very wonderful game, and of course everyone for signing up and playing! As always, if anyone would like to try your hand at running a game, please get a hold of Myself, Wilson or Meta. Not only will we get you added to the list, but I'm sure we'd be more than willing to help out in any way we can as well! You can also ask questions and get some hints and feedback from everyone over here in our Art of Game Creation thread as well. With all the games that we've run so far, we have plenty of experienced GMs that can help you refine any game you're thinking about! Sign-ups are also still open for the upcoming Mid-Range Game: A Venture in Atium for anyone who is looking to sneak in last minute to sign-up!

So it looks like Winter Cloud's MR Game will be up next after the conclusion of Wyrm's QF! Figured I'd help bump it real quick, remind people and let them know what's coming up! Game looks pretty solid, yay for multi-factional politics and backstabbing! Will there be any Vanilla players in the game? Or would any player that's not an Allomancer be one of the extra roles, just so they have a chance to get up and save Atium as well?

Alright, it's getting about that time! LG:11 is up and running and well underway, and things seem to have settled down quite a bit for the aftermath of this game, so this is the Official Heads-up that this game will be being wrapped up and locked shortly, so get any last minute comments or thoughts down now! Once again a big round of applause for Alvron, our fearless GM, for creating and running such a wonderful game, and all the players for signing up and making it so fun! Oh, and long live the Zombie Apocalypse!

Sorry for the double-post, but finally finished the Interview RP! This one got a little bit away from me, as sometimes happens. "GRAK! GRAK! GRAK! GRAK!" The chanting of the crowd continued, a thrumming beat, punctuated by the thunderous applause and cheers for their champion. A monster who had survived against all odds, defeated death itself, and delivered the final bloody spectacle that had been promised for the fans. Figgldygrak. The creature that haunted the dreams of nightmares and feasted on the terror. It's name was chanted, and it was beckoned and summoned, but still, the monster did not show itself. The curiosity of the mindless fans eventually took over all sense of precaution, and the watcher's flooded the field of the arena in a frenzied rush, searching for their Champion. To congratulate. To adore. To idolize. They finally found him. Figgldygrak was sitting atop a mound of mutilated corpses, with limbs and body parts strewn about, covered in the gore and innards of the fallen contestants. The aura of death hung around It like a shroud, the fetid stench of rot and decay heavy in the air, the gargantuan beast looming over all, it's giant shadow encompassing all and blocking out the sun. Grak was mindlessly humming a tune to itself as it feasted, occasionally rooting around at it's feet with the one arm it had left, and bringing up an indistinguishable chunk of human remains and chomping down on it with either a sickening slurp, or a bone-chilling crunch. It finally noticed the crowd as they circled around him in awe and wonder, keeping a small distance. Figgldygrak began to lick the juices off of it's fingers, savoring the flavor, and then giggled. A depraved, abhorrent laugh, void of mind and sanity. The Crowd clapped and cheered, whooping and hollering, reveling in their Champion's glorious presence. And they rushed in on him. One person made it to Figgldygrak first, getting a headstart advantage and beating out the rest. An upstanding gentleman, wearing the finest tailor-crafted suit, carrying himself with an air of professionalism and respect, who happened to have one suit pocket bulging in a suspiciously coinpurse-shaped obtrusion and jangled with the clinking of coins with each step. "This is Al Vron here, reporting live from THE Arena floor. That's right fans, I am standing right next to the monster known as Figgldygrak. The fans demanded his attention, they couldn't wait to show their adoration. We're right here, Sennti fans, in the Lair of the Beast." The Announcer wasted no time in smoothly taking control of the situation with grace and finesse. "Now I'm sure our fans at home want to know a few things. Like, where did you even come from? How in all the worlds did you even come to be?" Even the tactful GameMaster was finding it hard to keep his revulsion well hidden. Figgldygrak sat there for a few moments, staring dumbly past the Announcer into nothing. Slowly it's eyes came into focus, growing from two dim, crimson pinpricks, flaring up into acknowledgement and recognition. The monster slowly lumbered to it's feet, displacing the pile of corpses, unleashing a new wave of putrid, putrescent odor that smote the senses, driving even the restless crowd back a few paces. Al Vron held his ground, his eyes only slightly watering, his arm upraised as high as he could hold it, uselessly offering the microphone. He plugged one of his ears with the other. "I. AM. FIGGLDYGRAK!" The monster roared it's predictable, singular motto. "GRAK! GRAK!" It yelled once again, looking around wildly with a primal and savage gaze. "Can you at least try to tell us what's next?" Al Vron tried to shout over the clamor to be heard, getting in the last of his essential questions. "Perhaps I can tell you what's next," A sly voice said from behind Al Vron. The Announcer turned to see Gambles standing there, dressed in a sharp, immaculate white suit and pants, with a black dragonskin belt and matching shoes, polished to a shine. His beard was shaved close to his angular face, his hair starting to pepper gray, wearing a fancy hat, almost like a tophat, but shorter, and more narrow, with a dipped, grooved center and a long, fiery red feather tucked in around the cap. In one hand he held a slick, polished wooden cane, ornamented with a smooth, faded stone head. "What happens next is easy," Gambles said, waving his hand in an easy shrug. "Figgldygrak feeds." Figgldygrak seemed to roar it's approval in response. "BRAINS!!!" It's babaric yawp was then cut off by choking, gurgling sounds, as masses of slimy and bloody chalkings poured forth from it's gullet once more. The Crowd screamed in disgust and mild panic, slowly beginning to back up a few more steps as the horrible flat creatures made their way over the pile of corpses and slowly skittered towards them. The wild chalklings reached the front lines of The Crowd as they started to scream and shout, trying to scramble over each other to get out of the way, trampling and tripping over each other in their trepidation. That was when the explosions started, sundering and rending the masses violently apart. Figgldygrak roared once again, and leapt down from it's perch and down into The Crowd in a single bound, landing among the panicked spectators, and instantly the monster began to reach in and grab victims, tearing them apart or taking a couple bites from them before discarding them and moving onto the next. Grak was in a full bloodlust frenzy, and unstoppable, relishing in it's triumph. This was how a monster celebrated. "Don't worry, we're safe," Gambles said, talking to Al Vron. "Even Grak knows not to bite the hand that feeds, or even the feeder," he added with a grin. Perhaps I can explain some things while It tires itself out." He took a deep breath and coughed once to clear his throat, also a well-known, cheap trick used to build suspense and annoy your audience simultaneously. "What you see is what you get. Where did Figgldygrak come from? Don't mind if I paraphrase, but what happens if somebody -- or something -- starts off as a concept? What if you can give them that concept, that purpose? Take a man apart, piece by piece, bloody chunk by bloody chunk, and put him back together. What do you get? Figgldygrak. Gibletish. Nonsense. But what happens if you want to create a Monster?" Gambles paused and waved towards Figgldygrak as the monster grabbed up two faceless fans and whirled them about it's head like streamers until their arms were torn off from the force, sending their bodies flying through the air. "What happens if you succeed even moreso than you intended? Figgldygrak started off as a concept for these games. A Monster. A beast to be reckoned with and feared. But something happened that wasn't anticipated. Grak stole his identity for himself! When the monster died, it actually gained it's spark of consciousness. Of sentience. It recognized Itself for what it was supposed to be, and what it is. Consumed with it's Identity, and embracing it's egregious nature, it only compounded from there. Fueled by it's Identity as a horrible monster, a nightmare returned from the grave, Figgldygrak's consciousness was once again swallowed up by it's Monstrous Intent. I'm afraid there's no stopping it." And indeed, as Gambles trailed off, some of the corpses that had been bitten or partially eaten by the monster Figgldygrak began to reanimate and rise back up from the dead to pursue the living and eat their flesh. The poor, senseless crowd were trapped within the arena they had clamored and rushed to storm earlier, in their foolish adoration and fandom, as they were hunted down by the legions of the undead, led by their insatiable, abominable leader, The First Zombie. The cries of terror, pain, and horror rang throughout the arena, slowly fading over time, replaced with the groans of the undead, while the mad laughter of a creature beyond all imagining rang out in the graveyard that was once The Arena. And faintly, barely whispering on the winds, a raw, primordial warcry could still be heard echoing in the night. "I AM FIGGLDYGRAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKKkkkkk!!!

Huh. Looking back through mine, It looks like i had about 32, including game PM with Alv. O.o And only a few of those were the Troll PMs, it seems.

Whew, thanks everybody! This truly could have been anyone's game, with all the scheming, plotting, backstabbery, betrayal, and a whole crazy cast of items! Thank the Lord Ruler for Patented Urbain ParanoiaTM (Note to self: Never trust anybody in these games) I was honestly curious to see that Special Lottery, especially with Team Zombie. ....but the flavor of a shotgun being pulled out of Grak's innards for the win was too tempting. (and for good reason!) I'll try and get my interview/follow-up RP post in in the morning! Once again, great game everybody! And another round of applause (upvotes) for Alvron for GM'ing this fantastic game! His Inbox (and sanity!) can breath easily and go cry in a corner now somewhere, the abuse is finally over.

Yes! Great game from everybody! This entire Elimination Match has definitely wreaked havoc on my sanity! This truly has been a bloodbath, and was a blast to play! Many thanks to our GM Almighty for running such a great game, and for everybody for signing up and participating! This game has indeed shown that nobody on this sub-forum is to ever be trusted. And I love it!

BWAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!!! I AM FIGGLDGYGRAK!!!!! HEAR ME ROAR!!!!!!!

The crowd cheered and the stands pounded as the final moments of the round counted down, the Zombies relentless in their assault on the living and all former restraints and differences that once help them apart. He had to trust his compatriot undead. "YOLT!" he roared out to the crowd, one last time, and surged forward towards Wilson, thirsty for living flesh. Edit: Well played. I fixed to Wilson and Red at 10:59, but was probably hitting enter as soon as it switched over. If you don't want to count the vote change, I understand and accept your decision, Lord GM!

Grak craved the souls. Flesh and bone, and sinew and blood. Odium and despair were strong Intents, usually enough to drive him forward. But the monster hungered for the brains of the living. Araris.

"BRRRAAAIIINNNNSSSS!" Figgldygrak roared out, his savage voice full of hunger. The meager meal he had eaten alone had not been nearly enough to sate his desires, and he craved something more. Something.... living. Join Grak in the Zombie Apocalypse today! If Dow and the new zombie (looking at you, lurker) vote with me, we can get a majority lynch on Araris, taking out the living, and claiming the game for the Dead. What will happen is we should enter into a Special Lottery if we all agree to and HOLD BY a treaty to allow the Special Lottery to be held, to determine the last victims/winner, I'd assume. Let's face it, no faction deserves to win this game on merit alone. Let Fate decide! Dovie'andi se tovya sagain!

Well, us Zombies gotta stick together. Tulir.

Figgldygrak wiped the excess grease dripping from his lips, his tongue picking between his teeth, dislodging any trapped chunks of meat. The fire cast a dim glow, it's light flickering and occasionally searing up, the flames tickling the spit roast as fat dripped off of the carcass and into the bed of embers below. Figgldygrak's face was a mask of horror, the flickering light casting wide shadows over his face, one minute showing nothing but his dead, bloody eyes, or next only his maniacal grin as he ripped a chunk of flesh off of the bone. He hummed a tune as he ate, savoring the taste of triumph, a snippet of a melancholy song that Keria had sang to herself as the tides turned against her and the mob had it's way with her before the bloodbath began in earnest. "Let him go, let him go Can't hold him back anymore Let him go, let him go Turn away and let him soar! Figgldygrak found the chorus enrapturing, seeming to resonate a truth about himself. He knew he was a monster, truly and to the core. Why would he try to deny it or hide from the truth? He knew he was alone, and had no cause to fight for that he could call his own. He could only do what he always did best, and sow despair and chaos. As only a monster could. Figgldygrak grabbed another fresh chunk of meat from off of the fire, it's savory smell filling the air. "Man's best friend, or Monster's best meal? Come. Join me by fire." He would wait and see who would take him up on his offer. Until then, he would continue to feast on his delicious dinner of dog. He was pretty sure their former owners wouldn't mind. He let out a booming laugh, his gargantuan frame shaking with his endless mirth.

Grak. Wilson.

She knew about it since the cycle I received it. XD We were "tentatively" working together in a Chaos Faction for most of the game (read: Wilson leaving her faction). And my last post explains why she just now revealed it this cycle instead of last, because I'm no longer going along with what she asks.

Heh, so one thing I find quite amusing. True, I do have the Detonator Glass, I have been rather open about that (see return RP), but what's interesting is Wilson's call to lynch me now, after last cycle. If my Detonator Charge has been such a threat and something to worry about, why now all of sudden, and not any previous cycles after I returned? If you want to lynch me to remove the Detonator from the game, go right on ahead. I'll even help: Grak. But before you vote with Wilson against me, you should know that she basically already promised my game would end today for 'stabbing her in the back'. Because I didn't vote for Piff last cycle. >.> So it sounds to me like that Detonator is just an excuse for manipulating people into some sort of payback for not going along with what she wants. (See death of 3 Rithmatics in one cycle when Lu and I started actively working towards a Rithmatic win, and not going along with the 'Chaos Alliance' anymore) Edit: Not that I'm saying there's anything wrong with all of that, per se, that is the point of the game, after all. Edit: Fixed color.

After deliberation, I am sad to say I will be sitting out of this game. I must give many kudos, props, and upvotes to Newan and Aonar for coming up with this masterpiece though! This game really does look spectacular! It's just that I've been not nearly as active as I'd like to have been in the last few games (and current!) I've been in, so I know I won't be able to give the time dedication to this game that it deserves! (I might consider joining the Spectator Doc and Mistwraith it up though after awhile....)

As the game made it's way into the Final 8, Figgldygrak found himself standing alone, off to the edge of the crowd, with everybody too terrified to come near him. Flies flocked to him like the festering corpse he was, the decrepit smell of decaying flesh overwhelming the senses of all. Maggots crawled from the open wounds, feasting on the rotting flesh. Figgldygrak reveled in it. Before he died, he had no mind, no conscience. He was driven by pure instinct and barbaric, primal desire. He was nothing but a thoughtless monster, created for one sole purpose. But in death, he learned how those perceptions shaped who he was. He was a monster, and the more monstrous he was viewed, the most monstrous he became. If he was to be nothing but a creature, he would relish the concept. He would flourish and surpass all horrible expectations of him. He would sow chaos and hatred, leaving nothing but ruin and despair in his wake. Not the RP I wanted to do, but figured I should work up something real quick, just in case. >.<

Figgldygrak reared his head back and laughed, it had an unnatural, eerie shrill pitch accompanied with a low and heavy deep rumbling bass. He looked at Wilson. "Trolling......is such.... a bother." He wheezed between deep, rattling breaths. Pt 2 of 3 now apparently. XD I just don't have enough blasted time to sit down and actually work up the RP I always had planned for when I revived yet. (And yes, that was part of what I had planned -- or at least very highly expected, me getting lynched last minute like that.)

The roaring chant of the crowd whipped into a deafening frenzy, as the spectators cheered, clapped and stomped, repeating a name over and over. A single syllable thrummed continuously, pairing with the chorus of the crowd. A pulsing heartbeat. A resounding crashing sound echoed out, causing the ground to tremble and cutting through the din of the arena and abruptly silencing the crowd. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Gambles voice boomed out over the speakers, barely containing his laughter and amusement. "HE WALKED THE HALLS OF THE DEAD AND KNOCKED ON DEATH'S DOOR, ONLY DEATH WAS TOO AFRAID TO ANSWER! HE SLUMBERED WITH THE CORPSES, BUT THE STENCH WAS SO GREAT, THE BOWELS OF HELL BELCHED HIM BACK FORTH! WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU, AND FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT PLEASURE. RETURNED VIA SPECIAL REQUEST AND POPULAR DEMAND. MAY THE LIVING ENVY THE DEAD. FOR GRAK. IS. BACK!!!!" The end of the declaration was was drowned out in the calamitous cry of triumphant revival, full of menacing savagery and striking fear and trepidation into all those that bore witness. A gargantuan shadow loomed forth, the reanimated corpse of Figgldygrak, towering over all the other contestant even more standing at twice the size he was before. Twice as monstrous. To compensate for his increased mass, he borrowed chunks of flesh and sinew from the other corpses, as writhing masses of chalkings oozed forth from his leaking acidic wounds, crawling around at the seams of skin sloppily stitched together. Strewn about his deformed figure were random chunks of dynamite and detonators, rigged to explode, the green light pulsing with Figgldygrak's artificial heartbeat. FIggldygrak's eyes were burning a dim, smoldering red color, like a coal sparked to life and harnessing a destructive force of nature at the center of it's core. His eyes a fiery tempest, ignited by the Odious drive of vengeance. He let out one more triumphant bellow, seeking the blood of the one who deserved death the most. "Wilson!!!" Edit: Part 1 of 2. Edit 2: Color

I just find it funny that the 'Rithmatists are a threat', when they're the only faction that hasn't had a player in the thread lording over everybody else with how much information and influence they have. >.<

The spectators let out a collective yawn, showing their lack of enthusiasm and frenzy as the battlefield fell mostly silent, save for the occasional squawk or yelp of surprise and pain that would pierce the quiet night. Figgldygrak woke up to the chirping or birds, and an annoying poking sensation down in it's sides. It rolled over with a grunt, causing the stick being used to poke it snap under it's massive weight. One cold, black, lifeless eye peeked open, looking at whomever so rudely awoke it. There were two large spikes peering back at Figgldygrak. .....The Spike-Eyed one..... The thoughts were slow to form in Figgldygrak's mind, as if the gears were coated in molasses. It knew that the Spike-Eyed one wouldn't be far from the other one.... the one that was in charge. "Grak!" Figgldygrak cursed in annoyance, swatting at Cleo in retaliation, trying to roll back over to sleep.

It looks like we still have room 2 more people on this Crew if anybody is interested in joining!

The sky was dark and gloomy, as a storm slowly rolled in over The Arena, the thick, roiling thunderclouds blotting out the sun, and casting a dim shadow over the already bleak battlefield. An omen of death to follow, echoing the announcer's proclamation: Chaos Reigns. Figgldygrak sought out shelter, it's hulking mass just a large, formless shadow in the torrential downpour, the splashes of it's large feet as it ran through the flooded puddles quickly forming in the twisting maze of alleyways were drowned out by the roar of the rain and clashing booms of thunder. "Chaos Rains." It laughed to itself, finding those the first words it ever spoke besides it's name to be the funniest joke it ever heard. Couldn't avoid the chance of a terrible pun by making it rain. XD

Yeah, I'll make sure to check it as frequently as I can. I am currently involved in an Elimination Game on these forums at the moment, so most of my attention will be split at first between the two, but as that game winds down and ends, that should leave me plenty of time for the MAG! (I will still be active in the MAG, of course, just not as active as I'd like to be, at first. At least daily checks/posts, for certain.)