Post by supersysscvi on Aug 6, 2010 17:17:59 GMT -8
"Welcome once again to another episode staring me, Super CVI, and my sterling mice companions as we traverse the wastelands of Transformice in search of adventure!"
Episode 2: Of Cops and Robbers!
The landscape is of the desolate level of thirty-nine, where blustery winds blow across the landscape, pushing inactive and ignorant mice to their doom. Our hero watches as the shaman builds a strange pillar made of beach balls, connected at the base by yellow joints and a sturdy red-jointed board. Confused, our hero questions the handy-work:
"Oh my, good sir, what kind of contraption is that?"
The shaman ignores him, using his calm spirit to gesture the mice into the hole. Our hero finally caves in and goes in with his cheese.
The next room features a slow uphill climb. Made of slippery material, another slant rests suspended in air above the first knoll. All the mice are trapped within the confines of a wheeled box, released either by a caring shaman's hand or through the world's own collision detecting. Our hero marvels at the scenery and muses aloud:
"Ah, a stroll in the park! What good fun! I always like a good ride in the 'ol jalopy."
After the ride comes to a more-than-predictable disastrous end off the side of a cliff, the next level comes to the light of the LCD-lit sun. A simple level, only consisting of mice jumping over platforms to the cheese; however, a dastardly turn arose when the mice could no longer move past each other! What devil could have designed such a level, our hero thinks in the silence of his mind.
As he mulls this question over in his mind, our hero gets queries of another kind. The other Vault 100 dwellers are making certain he is well equipped for the daring adventures ahead! "What good gentlemen wouldn't go about in a monocle," they doubt aloud. Having just exited through the hole with his cheese, our hero took a look at the time. No, still more time before the next room comes around, he muses. Turning back to his companions from the safety of the hole, our hero taps his hat with a flick of his fingers, brushes his mustache ever so gently, and winks with the eye behind the monocle.
"My monicle is very much on my face, sirs," our hero reassures, "despite my not being on this stage!"
The next level comes as a shock: tied to a grappling hook with another mouse, our hero is flung into red lava, saved only by his readiness to use his powers of jump-canceling. Oh wait! He was shot so high into the air that our hero went off screen! No message seems to have come of his demise... oh, joy! He has made it safely to the cheese, giving himself only a second to wipe his brow before a return trip. The way back is much more safer as our protagonist and his rodent companion use their grappling skills well, jumping when the string allows one to.
Having reached the other side, our hero lets his companion go first, leaving one second for a crease of a smile on half of his face to admire the work he had just done.
"This level is quite the feat," our hero humbly boasts, "yet I am amazed for having survived it!"
Ice pillars light the path of the next room. Our hero could only shake his head in dismay and watch as the faded pink blocks fell like dominoes until all had fallen to pieces. A pity that such beauty goes to waste, our hero remarks.
But wait! Our hero has seen something on the horizon. A flying mouse? There's no way according to the world's physics that this could be! It could only be the work of a hacker! No doubt, someone would have to bring him to the justice of the wasteland!
"What's this?" Our hero commented after my previous analysis. "A raider! Come now, companions! We must halt his progress!"
Thankfully to everyone else in Vault One-Hundred, they were all sterling men of democracy! As gold as their standard, they rushed to the ballot booth and vetoed the mouse from the game.
With a smirk reflecting his home's aspirations coming alive, our hero remarks:
"And a good show it was!"
A policeman comes up to take the hacker off of the server. His badge glimmers in the bronze light of his name: Officer Lichy. The star reflects the aspirations of his truly admirable work as the Officer handcuffs the flying mouse. The noble mouse begins his police-like monologue:
"My good sir, you are under arrest! You cannot run from the cyber police! We will backtrace you 'till the ends of the earth... And consequences, well they... they will never be the same again."
Our heroes eyes widen, his eyes reflecting the admirable job the policeman is doing. Having heard the monologue, our hero gives his own word of admiration:
"Thank you, Offcier Lichy! We are sure to be protected when an officer of the law is around!"
However, the rooms had changed, and now the officer had a blue feather in his cap. His opponent shot him a red spirit of superiority, and the battle was over. Our hero's jaw slackened as he realized the sheer dismay of seeing a man of the law get knocked around so easily. Straightening his jaw with his hand, our hero gives the man of the law a statement of hope:
"Although I do hope your one-two can make a good gentlemen's match in the next fight!"
After the mice had been herded over by the shaman's simple hypothesis of a solid red board attached to a yellow board, the next room shows up. It is a simple walk to the cheese, but there are traps underway! Mice fall through portions of the floor which seem solid! Our hero, being as deft as a shrew, makes his way across to the french-brewed award. On his way back to the next room, our hero shouts loudly to his fallen Vault Members:
"Come on, companions! A little fake floor never hurt a vault member! This level is no match for men of intellect! Come now, to the next room, my mice companions!"
Rays of light beam into our hero's monocle as the room loads ahead. The edge comes too quickly; our hero trips and falls, smacking his face on a lower floor. Rubbing the stinging nerves away with his hand, our hero sees that a device is afloat: a shaman by the name of Delenor is attaching balloons to a contraption made of a plank with two miniature boxes on each end. Seeing the sight of another adventure, our hero hops aboard, enjoying his ride on the gondola. It didn't take long for the contraption to float offstage, sending both our hero and his companions to an untimely demise. Upon the predictable respawning in the next level, Officer Lichy walks up to Shaman Delenor with handcuffs in tow.
"Shaman Delenor," Officer Delenor speaks, showing his ultimatum by the rattling of his handcuffs, "you are driving an airship without a license. I'm sorry, but you are under arrest..."
Why, the poor kid never knew! Our hero thought to himself. He should be given another chance! These are the wastelands, after all. A man of good talent should be taken into consideration! Bringing the voice of his mind to the realm of the audible, our hero approaches the two and gives his defense:
"Good sir Lichy! I am a man of the law as any other mouse. Is there a way to obtain this flying permit legally?"
The officer rebuked our hero with a shake of his head, reasoning that a first offense is no excuse for having done the deed illegally. Shaman Delenor, eyes as stern as a hawk, delivers his own defense:
"I assure you, officer, that I am a licensed airship pilot."
Handing his ticket to the officer, the officer noticed it was about the same color and size of a pilot's license. He flapped the license in his hand; yep, the same density, too. He began to hand it back when:
"Okay, off you g-waaait a minute... this is a two for one coupon for Mcdonald's..."
It was true: right there on the "license" was the golden arches of McDonald's stamped next to a photoshop'd picture of a delicious hamburger. Our hero wiped the saliva off of his lips with the back of his hand before letting worry sink in.
"My!" our hero gasps, baffled by the situation. "If such a noble name as Delenor goes about with a fake ticket... this is a problem indeed!"
Shaman Delenor begins edging back slowly, mumbling some incomprehensible words and phrases that sounded like some sort of defense: a little bit of "getting along" here, a little bit of "world peace" there. Once Delenor stopped pacing backwards, a sly smirk jutted across the features of his face as he cooed:
"Well, well, well. The cheese is out of the box!"
With a jump of a leg and a spin of his arms, Shaman Delenor had begun a mad dash away from the scene, shouting cliches at the top of his lungs. Both our hero and Officer Lichy were off in a jiffy, running after the perpetrator as fast as they could. The good officer shouted:
"Come back here, you rebel scum!"
And the chase had begun. Round a wooden corner, down a wooden street and around yet another corner. Our hero got a splinter in his paw for trying to grapple onto the corners for a speedy turn. Yet Delenor never came closer, always being but one step away from their good-intentioned plans.
"Will the law catch the rebel? Tune in next time to the adventures of Super and his mice companions of vault 100!"
(Huuf. This was a long write. But worth it... yeah, worth it.)
Episode 2: Of Cops and Robbers!
The landscape is of the desolate level of thirty-nine, where blustery winds blow across the landscape, pushing inactive and ignorant mice to their doom. Our hero watches as the shaman builds a strange pillar made of beach balls, connected at the base by yellow joints and a sturdy red-jointed board. Confused, our hero questions the handy-work:
"Oh my, good sir, what kind of contraption is that?"
The shaman ignores him, using his calm spirit to gesture the mice into the hole. Our hero finally caves in and goes in with his cheese.
The next room features a slow uphill climb. Made of slippery material, another slant rests suspended in air above the first knoll. All the mice are trapped within the confines of a wheeled box, released either by a caring shaman's hand or through the world's own collision detecting. Our hero marvels at the scenery and muses aloud:
"Ah, a stroll in the park! What good fun! I always like a good ride in the 'ol jalopy."
After the ride comes to a more-than-predictable disastrous end off the side of a cliff, the next level comes to the light of the LCD-lit sun. A simple level, only consisting of mice jumping over platforms to the cheese; however, a dastardly turn arose when the mice could no longer move past each other! What devil could have designed such a level, our hero thinks in the silence of his mind.
As he mulls this question over in his mind, our hero gets queries of another kind. The other Vault 100 dwellers are making certain he is well equipped for the daring adventures ahead! "What good gentlemen wouldn't go about in a monocle," they doubt aloud. Having just exited through the hole with his cheese, our hero took a look at the time. No, still more time before the next room comes around, he muses. Turning back to his companions from the safety of the hole, our hero taps his hat with a flick of his fingers, brushes his mustache ever so gently, and winks with the eye behind the monocle.
"My monicle is very much on my face, sirs," our hero reassures, "despite my not being on this stage!"
The next level comes as a shock: tied to a grappling hook with another mouse, our hero is flung into red lava, saved only by his readiness to use his powers of jump-canceling. Oh wait! He was shot so high into the air that our hero went off screen! No message seems to have come of his demise... oh, joy! He has made it safely to the cheese, giving himself only a second to wipe his brow before a return trip. The way back is much more safer as our protagonist and his rodent companion use their grappling skills well, jumping when the string allows one to.
Having reached the other side, our hero lets his companion go first, leaving one second for a crease of a smile on half of his face to admire the work he had just done.
"This level is quite the feat," our hero humbly boasts, "yet I am amazed for having survived it!"
Ice pillars light the path of the next room. Our hero could only shake his head in dismay and watch as the faded pink blocks fell like dominoes until all had fallen to pieces. A pity that such beauty goes to waste, our hero remarks.
But wait! Our hero has seen something on the horizon. A flying mouse? There's no way according to the world's physics that this could be! It could only be the work of a hacker! No doubt, someone would have to bring him to the justice of the wasteland!
"What's this?" Our hero commented after my previous analysis. "A raider! Come now, companions! We must halt his progress!"
Thankfully to everyone else in Vault One-Hundred, they were all sterling men of democracy! As gold as their standard, they rushed to the ballot booth and vetoed the mouse from the game.
With a smirk reflecting his home's aspirations coming alive, our hero remarks:
"And a good show it was!"
A policeman comes up to take the hacker off of the server. His badge glimmers in the bronze light of his name: Officer Lichy. The star reflects the aspirations of his truly admirable work as the Officer handcuffs the flying mouse. The noble mouse begins his police-like monologue:
"My good sir, you are under arrest! You cannot run from the cyber police! We will backtrace you 'till the ends of the earth... And consequences, well they... they will never be the same again."
Our heroes eyes widen, his eyes reflecting the admirable job the policeman is doing. Having heard the monologue, our hero gives his own word of admiration:
"Thank you, Offcier Lichy! We are sure to be protected when an officer of the law is around!"
However, the rooms had changed, and now the officer had a blue feather in his cap. His opponent shot him a red spirit of superiority, and the battle was over. Our hero's jaw slackened as he realized the sheer dismay of seeing a man of the law get knocked around so easily. Straightening his jaw with his hand, our hero gives the man of the law a statement of hope:
"Although I do hope your one-two can make a good gentlemen's match in the next fight!"
After the mice had been herded over by the shaman's simple hypothesis of a solid red board attached to a yellow board, the next room shows up. It is a simple walk to the cheese, but there are traps underway! Mice fall through portions of the floor which seem solid! Our hero, being as deft as a shrew, makes his way across to the french-brewed award. On his way back to the next room, our hero shouts loudly to his fallen Vault Members:
"Come on, companions! A little fake floor never hurt a vault member! This level is no match for men of intellect! Come now, to the next room, my mice companions!"
Rays of light beam into our hero's monocle as the room loads ahead. The edge comes too quickly; our hero trips and falls, smacking his face on a lower floor. Rubbing the stinging nerves away with his hand, our hero sees that a device is afloat: a shaman by the name of Delenor is attaching balloons to a contraption made of a plank with two miniature boxes on each end. Seeing the sight of another adventure, our hero hops aboard, enjoying his ride on the gondola. It didn't take long for the contraption to float offstage, sending both our hero and his companions to an untimely demise. Upon the predictable respawning in the next level, Officer Lichy walks up to Shaman Delenor with handcuffs in tow.
"Shaman Delenor," Officer Delenor speaks, showing his ultimatum by the rattling of his handcuffs, "you are driving an airship without a license. I'm sorry, but you are under arrest..."
Why, the poor kid never knew! Our hero thought to himself. He should be given another chance! These are the wastelands, after all. A man of good talent should be taken into consideration! Bringing the voice of his mind to the realm of the audible, our hero approaches the two and gives his defense:
"Good sir Lichy! I am a man of the law as any other mouse. Is there a way to obtain this flying permit legally?"
The officer rebuked our hero with a shake of his head, reasoning that a first offense is no excuse for having done the deed illegally. Shaman Delenor, eyes as stern as a hawk, delivers his own defense:
"I assure you, officer, that I am a licensed airship pilot."
Handing his ticket to the officer, the officer noticed it was about the same color and size of a pilot's license. He flapped the license in his hand; yep, the same density, too. He began to hand it back when:
"Okay, off you g-waaait a minute... this is a two for one coupon for Mcdonald's..."
It was true: right there on the "license" was the golden arches of McDonald's stamped next to a photoshop'd picture of a delicious hamburger. Our hero wiped the saliva off of his lips with the back of his hand before letting worry sink in.
"My!" our hero gasps, baffled by the situation. "If such a noble name as Delenor goes about with a fake ticket... this is a problem indeed!"
Shaman Delenor begins edging back slowly, mumbling some incomprehensible words and phrases that sounded like some sort of defense: a little bit of "getting along" here, a little bit of "world peace" there. Once Delenor stopped pacing backwards, a sly smirk jutted across the features of his face as he cooed:
"Well, well, well. The cheese is out of the box!"
With a jump of a leg and a spin of his arms, Shaman Delenor had begun a mad dash away from the scene, shouting cliches at the top of his lungs. Both our hero and Officer Lichy were off in a jiffy, running after the perpetrator as fast as they could. The good officer shouted:
"Come back here, you rebel scum!"
And the chase had begun. Round a wooden corner, down a wooden street and around yet another corner. Our hero got a splinter in his paw for trying to grapple onto the corners for a speedy turn. Yet Delenor never came closer, always being but one step away from their good-intentioned plans.
"Will the law catch the rebel? Tune in next time to the adventures of Super and his mice companions of vault 100!"
(Huuf. This was a long write. But worth it... yeah, worth it.)
