Okay then, Phillip Crowder stepping up to the plate, and here's the pitch.
"Dude, really? Baseball's a conspiracy by the man to make us want to hit each other in the balls, cuz what's a game of baseball if its not hitting balls, dude?" - Phillip Crowder to Thomas Crowder during a baseball game. It was then the Thomas decided that baseball was the game for him.
Phillip really lacked any real skills in the real world. He couldn't cook, he couldn't fight, and he couldn't be asked to work. What he did do was lie around in fields all day smoking... cupcakes! That's right, cupcakes and pretending to listen to music. It was quite helpful that he was in a field, for when disaster struck, he was far from the initial outbreak. However, being on... cupcakes, didn't help much, so he kind of ambled along looking for more cupcakes, and perhaps some, the entire day. Needless to say, he was often hungry, but his cupcakes were more than enough to make him happy.
Starting Stats
Where Tom was serving the "man" with his business degree, Phil was doing the work of the people, man. Tom's younger brother was always a bit bizarre. As a child, he would run in circle screaming, "They're watching me!" He was quite good at it, and Tom
quick as he was could never catch him because of Phil was
Fleet-Footed. He would read just as much as Tom did, but his reading material was different. Where Tom read textbooks, Phil read "The Communist Manifesto." Where Tom read
Sports Illustrated, Phil read
Hippie Today, ignoring his mother's cries of, "That's not a real magazine!" And boy he was a
fast reader. He would finish one magazine, distribute it to the people, man (by which I mean that he just threw it at the ground), and get another. He was, unfortunately, just as
asthmatic as his brother, it just ran in the family, but he was different in that he had never taken to drinking the large amounts of alcohol his brother did. Something about, "beer's a conspiracy, dude, it makes us drink more water." Whatever that meant, the real reason was his
weak stomach.Being the hippie that he was, he wasn't big on meat, he was a
vegetarian.As a hippie, he had learned to think for himself in arguments with the cops over the legality of cupcakes. He always lost to those unbending party-poopers, and so spent a great deal of time in jail, but the arguments did hone his
intelligence. He had spent a little time hauling his stuff around before discovering the true hippie way of forgetting where your stuff was, so he was slightly
stronger than average, but his dexterity and perception were no better than a government-serving fool.
Starting Conditions
"Man, let me in, dude," Phil mellowly said. He was out of cupcakes, and needed some place to crash, but no matter how hard he banged, only a dog looking at him noticed. "Jeez man, be cool," he whined, and looked down at the ground. Then, he was a map just floating by and opened it up.
What to do, what to do...
A. Show that government door who's the designated leader! Or a window.
B. Head to the Sporting Utility Store to the NW and hope they have some cupcake growing tools.
C. Use what cupcakes you have left for some last minute inspiration.
Author
Topic: Let's Play Cataclysm! Be the first to be eaten alive (Read 22456 times)