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Voting closed: November 30, 2011, 09:01:14 pm

[Rexfelum]

First, I would like to apologize.  I hoped that my phrasing was silly enough that it did not seem confrontational.  It would seem I was wrong.

Now, as I understand it, both parts of this statement are incorrect:

He's either dreaming, or in a coma, laying on his floor being kept alive by the roboting arm that gives him food and water... and all this is some kind of collective unconscious formed by the bug things, or some shit.

As you said next, yes, he is literally out of his original reality and inside the Surrealm, "bodily abducted by the alien."  It has been established as such for so long that it would constitute a plot twist if he were truly unconscious back in his old room.  And the Surrealm may be some form of "unconscious," but it is not formed by the bug things, as everything here (including the bug things) is directly created by TQ-666.  Or it was until he went into his self-pitying salt cocoon.

You can read the explanation back in the TQ-666 sections that I linked.  Or, to be thorough:

Page 200 - TQ-666 introduced, nothing special
Page 229 - TQ-666, again nothing special
Page 321 - TQ-666 meets the angel, it appears to take us out of this universe, and all efforts to "wake up" fail
Page 346 - Plot recap
Page 446 - TQ-666 receives the main exposition of what this place is and how it works
Page 735 - Plot recap
Page 979 - TQ-666 meets the creepy crawlies and eventually gets told what they've been doing in his absence
Page 1430 - Plot recap
Page 1539 - TQ-666 as we are now

Spoiler: And here are all those recaps, because why not (click to show/hide)

Also occurring at approximately the same time, A morose mutant on Roptullis-2
named TQ-666, cries and writhes around on the floor of his dormitorium cell, in severe
agony until a mysterious creature appears and whisks him off to some strange unknown
place beyond the stars themselves.

. . .

In another time and universe, TQ-666 the sorrowful limbless Sectoid is delivered at
last to the Surrealm where he is told by his deliverer that he is in possession of the meta,
an ability that allows the realm to conform to the mindset of the metaholder.
In reaction to the stress, the blank realm immediately transfigures itself into a dark
forest full of stationary carnivorous polyps, ad beset by constant rain. In response to the voices within
his head, TQ-666 raises spearlike metallic mountains from the ground and stops the rain by
conjuring an enormous incandescent eye above the land that constantly leaks molten metal.
With the forest on fire and the voices growing ever louder, TQ-666 sinks within his own mind as
his body is encased in a shell of salt spreading from his tears.

. . .

Meanwhile in another time in another space, the invalid mutant TQ-666 awoke beneath the mountain of tears,
his cultists had found him at last. A god to his world, he still could not generate adequate arms or legs for himself
and resorted to hopping around. His power had waned somehow in his crying fit.  TQ-666 sent for his creepy-crawlie
servants to find him a way out of the chamber he occupied in the salt mountain.

In the darkness, perhaps after an impromptu dance number, he was visited by the angelic being once again
regarding his place in the Surrealm. The being explained to him the nature of the creepy crawlie creatures,
as planescions, living manifestations of his creation, and that without hunger or strife, he had been crying
for over 230 million years.

Atop the mountain itself, the being showed TQ-666 the civilization of the planescions that had grown in the
shadow of the mountain over the aeons. He explained that TQ-666's waning power was due to his close
proximity with large amounts of progressive secularism, and if he could be properly worshipped and respected he could
regain his power and continue his quest to Shabalash.

TQ-666 got his start in this by tumbling down a mountain, destroying a house and a paved road, and turning the
grandmother of two middle class Ebonlings into a (comparitively) giant, city destroying monster.

Little did he know of the forces that sought to combat him on his quest.

So yeah.

--Rexfelum

[Descan]

I have this GREAT IDEA for a story, possibly convertable to a paint adventure.

Now if only I could draw! ... Or write!

Regardless, I'm watching you Robocorn. *watching*

[rarborman]

Yeah, missing like half the updates and being to lazy to read the recaps does happen to skew ones opinion on what the hell is going on.

[Siquo]

Now if only I could draw! ... Or write!

Not to diss Robocorn, but if you look at the first few pages, you'll notice that not being able to draw is no reason not to start.

[Robocorn]

Only four airships
You greet the crawlie forces
Surely they're allies



Nope, they're not friendly
They bombard you with rockets.
One explodes on you.

Excruciating
The impact has left you scorched
Your nerves are afire.

it's a classic trick, but I still really like what you're doing with the colours.

I don't know what the trick is. I'm basically just doing a quick painting digitally with a hard brush and a soft brush for all of these.
My palette looks like this if you want to use the colours.

Yeah, missing like half the updates and being to lazy to read the recaps does happen to skew ones opinion on what the hell is going on.

Honestly I wouldn't count that against you, oftentimes drawing uninformed or linearly thought out suggestions can be more interesting than the ones
that make a lot of sense. I'm starting to miss Rumrusher.

Now if only I could draw! ... Or write!

Not to diss Robocorn, but if you look at the first few pages, you'll notice that not being able to draw is no reason not to start.

Hey man, as much as I sucked a year ago I was never as bad as early Space Voyage made me out to be.
I didn't start trying on my art until around 500 pages in when I read somewhere that doing MSPA made Hussie worse at art.
Even then I never really put my all into Space voyage's art (Until, uh, now. I can't actually paint better than this in an hour and a half)
I guess that the moral of the story is if you don't put in the effort then the art won't ever improve. </cop-out>

I still can't write.

[Armok]

The trick of using a linear palette between contrasting colours like that.

[Siquo]

What is left but tears and wails? Wail like a beached whale. WAIL like a banshee, let the sound of your grief tear their little world apart.

Hey man, as much as I sucked a year ago I was never as bad as early Space Voyage made me out to be.

Sorry man, I was just using that as an excuse to get someone else to start something

[Rexfelum]

I still can't write.

You can too write.  Look at what you do with suggestions.  On one level, of course, there's making a scene out of the best/funniest ideas.  On another level, though, there's how you wrangle leftover ideas, sentence structure, and forum thread context to fill the cracks with jokes and references.  You incorporate everything; then you still come up with new ideas that prompt new input.  About the only thing you could use is a spellchecker.  (By the way: do you type in Firefox?)

Regardless, the creepy-crawlies have accidentally given you what you want: though they do not "worship" you, they now "respect" you as a threat.  This gives you power (see the above plot recaps).  Use the power that is surely coursing through you to transform the rockets into pretty flowers and turnips.

(Turnips?)

--Rexfelum

[Urist McDwarfFortress]

Regardless, the creepy-crawlies have accidentally given you what you want: though they do not "worship" you, they now "respect" you as a threat.  This gives you power (see the above plot recaps).  Use the power that is surely coursing through you to transform the rockets into pretty flowers and turnips.

I agree with this, except, instead of flowers and turnips, make yogurt!

[Phantom of The Library]

Lots of yogurt, preferably gran mungo, also cherries.

[Cerol Lenslens]

Nothing better for a burn than some soothing salt water. Cry some more! Cry until you form a salty shell over your vulnerable body.

Regardless, the creepy-crawlies have accidentally given you what you want: though they do not "worship" you, they now "respect" you as a threat.  This gives you power (see the above plot recaps). 

Or, use the newfound potency to finish your metamorphosis! Erupt from your salty cocoon as the local equivalent to Mothra, and take the battle to the air! You may not have arms and legs, but you do still have a spine!

_{(I do so love those movies where all the kaiju show up at once and everything goes to heck.)}

[Rexfelum]

I think this last suggestion would be remarkably dangerous and ill-advised.

Which I guess means . . .

Yeah, we know where this story's going.

--Rexfelum

[Cerol Lenslens]

I think this last suggestion would be remarkably dangerous and ill-advised.

I can't help it! I see this:

And I think this:

[Robocorn]

So many rockets!
The voices advise again.
Your power has grown.

You sure hope they're right
Bombs must be transmogrified.
Into...uh...yogurt.



Buried in yogurt.
Unappealingly tepid
It gets in your wounds.

Yogurt's not ointment
It at least cools you a bit.
A strange sensation.



Metamorphosis
A sharp pain runs up your spine.
Could be hazardous.

You'll have to bide time.
They seem to have stopped shooting.
You'll have to defend.

Updates are likely to be more weirdly spaced before they get better.
Though that is likely to be in a more positive spin.

[Cerol Lenslens]

Well now I'm worried.

Yogurt can send sectoids' minds from the waking world into the dream world.

Does dream yogurt send dreamers into the dream dream world?

Yog-ception?