((Perhaps I will reposition myself to somewhere more travelled, perhaps the main plaza/road or something?))
((Can I relocate nearer? I imagine Slencville isn't very friendly to Hyenas, and I'd probably catch the first car I could out of town.))
Yes. But we've only got room for 6 people in the car, and one of you is riding in the trunk.
"Can I have all of them?"
Grab like 5 syringes of varying size, a needle or two, and as many cigarette packs or cartons as I can carry.
You grab a variety of syringes, a pack of sewing needles and then fill a glass jar with as many cigarettes as it will hold. You walk back out to the car without saying anything to the shop keeper.
"We are Hellborn, born here, from the union of two like yourself, lifeborn. We have no other incarnation before, and many believe we will have no incarnation after this one. I am a 5th generation of hellborn, as are most others here; I suppose that is why we all appear similar. We are happy to see you, because you are a Real being, one descended from the lofty planes of life to dwell in this place for all time, immortal and free. Beings like you created our town, created us. But there seem to be so few like you here, we rarely see them, so their presence is something to be celebrated."
((Neat))
"If thats what you would like to do, I will do it." The man-looking being says, smiling. He seems almost not to understand what the concept of a shop is.
John stands still and thinks for a moment. He turns away and pretends to be seeking things in his pockets, although he knows precisely where each item of his modest belongings is on him. It is rather clear now that this.. man... keeper doesn't grasp the concept of trade, so it isn't quite necessary to waste any of his valuable possessions on trade he foolishly (as it turned out) proposed. Finally, he comes up with a plan.
He relocates his flask from inner pocket of his jacket to the back pocket of his jeans, as if it was the point of his searching hustle. He pulls off his jacket (with all pockets empty now) and places it on one of the hangers, with all the other clothes he had seen earlier.
He smiles at the keeper for a moment, simultaneously trying to get a good look on him (if possible within moment, heh) and then proceeds to filling the vessels he got with water.
When that is done, he asks which way to junk shop.
Finally, he thanks the keeper and leaves the shop, then puts the water-filled vessels in the back of the car.
He sees that gorilla fellow is still there.
- Eeeeeyyyy.... buddy? You're still here? Keep an eye on those then while I go get some more stuff, okay? This is going to be our water and fuel supply, but now it's just water.
You trade your jacket for in for the other goods and take a good look at the shop keeper. The Shop keeper looks a lot like the others in this town, same sort of goblin like appearance but with a short layer of curly, almost sheep like fuzz growing over most of his body, save for his face. Odd, to say the least, but you share a car with a gorilla and pacman so perhaps not as odd as it could be.
You walk into the back and fill the vessels with water one at a time, carrying each one back to the car after it is full. You consider trying to fill them all and then walk back, but that proves too cumbersome and heavy.
The shop keeper points you down the street, on the right side, toward a building with the sign "Hannity's" hanging out front.
Okay, so I'm going to try this application, but I've got slightly less dumb ideas if this one gets nope'd.
Name: Junkpot MXV Kenny the latest-death'th.
Soul: A particularly badly-made Sten Mk2 SMG, blew up when first fired.
Incarnation; A vaguely humanoid mechanical assembly, at least one of its limbs probably works. It's about the shittiest thing you've ever seen.
Gender; Rust.
What You're good at: Always reincarnates as a mobile mechanical assemblage within about three kilometers of its last death, good at mechanical maintenance. Pretty damn practiced slapstick comedian.
What you're bad at: So absurdly shitty and fragile that any damage whatsoever causes it to die painfully and spectacularly. Trip over a rock? Bits of ruptured springs go ten feet in the air. Kid shoots it with a slingshot? Michael Bay-esque fireball that somehow avoids harming anything else nearby. Pat on the back? Cumulative rust damage instantly reduces it to a dust-devil of powdered iron oxide. Deeply depressed. Really, really bad singing voice.
Your Hopes: Find oblivion/permanent death. Utterly impossible to achieve. Hence depression.
Your Fears: Immortality, children with slingshots, Joseph Stalin, lubricant oil.
What you need to survive: Scrap metal {To replace everything that falls off and doesn't cause instant death} Coolant of some kind {Air, water, ice, chilled sand, anything to stop it accumulating too much heat from its immensely shitty circuits and burning to death} Antidepressants. {Duh. Not sure how the mechanical horror uses em' though. Sufficient intoxicating chemicals also work, for a while.}
What's in your pockets: A half-empty bottle of antidepressant pills, a photo of Vladimir Lenin with an ineptly drawn mustache and eyebrows in earwax-colored crayon.
You can't reincarnate in close proximity. Thats kind of against the entire idea here since you're basically gaming the system and making your character immortal. The rest looks fine.
Also you don't spawn yet. We've got a big waitlist ahead of you. So adjust that character so I can add you to it, and pray that lots of people get murdered.
That gorilla ain't looking good.
XAN, IRONY, YOU BETTER HURRY UP OR I'M REPLACING YOU WITH QUICKER PEOPLE; WAITING AROUND SEVERAL DAYS FOR YOU TO POST ISN'T FAIR TO THIS TURGID WAITLIST I GOT.
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Topic: The Infinite Heavens: More than one way to skin a cat. (Read 352270 times)