The FFR Scary Story Event

[FFR Events]

As the time draws nearer toward the annual night of fright, our complicated relationship with the macabre once again begins to steal the spotlight. Let us all contribute to this effort, as the master story tellers we are, by bringing these chilling themes close to home...

FFR Scary Story Event!

Now is your chance to put forth your literary workmanship, to create a piece which will keep it's readers cowering in fear, or perhaps dying of laughter. Bring us to your world, and take us on a journey too entertaining to put down!

If you wish to participate, simply post your story in this thread. You will have quite a bit of time to write something up, so don't worry about rushing an entry in (there are no prizes for earliest submissions). There will also not be any imposed length limits, so feel free to make your story as long or short as you feel. Entries will be accepted until October 24th, 11:59PM server time. Voting will take place from October 25th at 12AM to October 26th at 11:59PM server time, where users may post in this thread to nominate which stories are their favorites for various categories. You can vote for the same user in multiple sections. These categories include:

Best overall
- This is simply the story that you personally enjoyed the most. Which was the one you felt the most satisfaction after reading?

Most frightening
- Which of the ones you read gave you the most goosebumps, and left you feeling unsettled after the tale was told?

Most comical
- Sometimes tales of fright move readers in the exact opposite direction. Which story gave you the biggest laugh?

Best imagery
- Which author wrote their world the most vividly for you to experience?

Rules:
- The story must not break any site rules
- Your story must have some aspect of the site or it's members within it. As this is an FFR story telling event, let's try to put at least a hint of FFR in it.
- Don't plagiarize
- Users must not vote for their own entries, must have an account which is at least 2 months old, and have 5 or more forum posts.

Prizes:

Best overall story
1st place: 35k credits, your choice of two event or support tokens, and the posting of your story on the front page!
2nd place: 25k credits, and you're choice of an event or support token.
3rd place: 15k credits

Most frightening, comical, or best imagery categories
1st place: 20k credits, and your choice of one event or support token*
2nd place: 20k credits
3rd place: 10k credits
*Token not applicable if you receive a token reward from the best overall story section.

I look forward to the wonderful things you'll all come up with!

[FFR Events]

Submissions:
gold stinger

Option-Out

There’s this website game out there, called FlashFlashRevolution. You guys may not have heard of it, but it’s really quite a popular game. Albeit, not many people play it, but it does pull a lot of attention in public areas, especially when you’ve been playing it as long as I have. Seven years going into eight, even though I’ve been playing the game for a decently longer amount of time, stirring around songs at the end of 2006 in October.

When I began having an actual game name for myself, I didn’t talk on the forums that much, but I was pretty decent at the game. Most of the messaging I did was in PMs, between myself and my friends, to go onto multiplayer, and have some fun there, and talk about things that were happening, rumors, you know, idle chit chat between songs. One day, a close friend of mine mentioned that there were a bunch of older songs on the engine, but they were removed because they were too hard for people to pass. Not because of how many arrows were in the song or because of how broken it was, but because of the music. It was unbearable to listen to.

It honestly didn’t catch much attention to me. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong. Who knows? Not worth my time, until there was a point that I wasn’t able to play anymore. A day came by where I was unable to log into Multiplayer to go and play with a friend. It had said that I was already logged onto Multiplayer. As much as I refreshed the page, logged out, logged back in, and tried reconnecting, it didn’t allow me to connect. It gave me the same bold error message “You are already logged into Multiplayer!”. This was the first time I ever took to the forums and asked for help, because it’s never happened to me before. I legitimately thought I was hacked. Most of the replies coming back to me was that it was a bug and to give it a couple of minutes for it to disconnect itself.

I sat there and waited for the longest time, but it never disconnected. Upon refreshing the game page, I had noticed I received a PM, figuring it was from my friend that was wondering where I was, it turned out to be something entirely different. It came from a player that had no player name, and a title named ‘Opt-In’. The PM read as follows:

15, 17-20, 27, 34-38, 41-45, 51, 52, 70, 72-80, 82-84, 93, 99, 109, 114, 131, 154, 436, 437, 440-444, 446, 451, 452, 454, 456-460, 462-464, 472-487, 489-497.

You have been randomly selected to play-test song No. 497 before its release into the game, to give your full opinion before it’s exposed to the public. You will receive credits based on how structured your opinion is on the song, and be given a free title of FFR Veteran.

If you wish to play-test this song, please reply to this message with the string: Opt-In No.497

However, due to being able to play-test said song, your account will be unable to post in the forums or connect to Multiplayer until the song is released. No Worries though! If you want access back to the forums & Multiplayer immediately, please message an administrator with the phrase below, and they will promptly Option you out of testing to resume play. Otherwise, this message will expire in 12 hours, and allow you to continue play:

Opt-Out No.497

It was strange. I had never received something like this. It didn’t appear to be from any possible player, so I assumed it was a bot of some sort on the website. It also answered fairly clear as to why I was unable to connect to Multiplayer, but I had just been able to post on the forums. I checked my other tab to see if my thread had generated any more responses, but it locked me out of the forums saying that I had insufficient privileges to view this thread. That sealed the deal, they actually wanted me to look at a new song for them! I was so happy. I sent a PM message to my friend explaining what had happened and why I couldn’t get onto Multiplayer, and proceeded to send a reply to the message:

Opt-In No.497

I refreshed my page, only to find a second message already waiting for me with the same player title, and the same title ‘Opt-In’. It lead me to a downloader for something called FFR_Legacy(497).exe. I proceeded to download it and check exactly to see what was inside it, and who it was from. Checking the properties of the file, it said it was by Synthlight Studios, so it checked out ok in my book.

I opened up the .exe file after placing it in a folder and watched as it started up just like the legacy engine on FFR does. It didn’t stretch the window funny in any way for Multiplayer, it only had the normal gameplay screen for it. Guess there wasn’t much reason to incorporate Multiplayer when your account is locked down from joining Multiplayer. It loaded up my stats from FFR, my credit amount, and even my ranks. I clicked the Dance genre icon to reveal one song aptly named 497. I found it kind of odd that it was named 497, as I was kind of expecting a half-legitimate song name instead of a number. I clicked on it, waiting for the song to load, when I realized I forgot to put in my settings for my keys (because I used numpad instead of arrow keys at the time). As soon as the song started, I exited out, went to options, set my keys up, and restarted the song.

The beginning of the sound sounded a little bit like computer sounds. Not typing or anything, but whirling & whizzing from the computer, and sounds from a chair moving back & forth. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, was blood curdling screams. Tons of them, overlapping each other growing increasingly louder As if a woman was scared for her life on the other side of my computer screen. More joined in, all as different screams from different people. As part of a reflex, I reached for my audio speakers and turned them off, but the screaming grew only more intense and louder. There were no notes on my screen, only flashing images a mile a second. I started trying to boo myself out of the song, but none of the keys would register, not even my mouse when I was trying to click the window closed. I started taking screenshots like crazy to get captures of the images that were flashing while the screaming ensued, and caught a hefty ton of them. The notes for the song started playing around 15-20 seconds of constant screaming. I eventually started missing enough notes that the song itself (or screaming, rather) ended abruptly. Instead of going to the results screen, it went to a black screen showing a man in a striped suit whose face I couldn’t see, only the bottom part of his face. He grinned. The screen flashed white, and then black. My computer had turned itself off.

I tried turning my computer back on again, but it said that there was a hard-drive failure. I quit the game in its entirety after that, and had bigger things to worry about, like life. I was forced to use my mom’s old computer until I could get my own computer a decent while later around 2008. By that time, I was able to find out how to salvage old data off of destroyed hard-drives, and decided to try my old computer as a test subject. I was able to fetch tons of random data from my computer, but a lot of it was destroyed. One of the more interesting things that I was able to fetch was a screenshot that I took from the .exe, showing a shadowy figure in the corner of the screen when the notes started coming up, while being somewhat glitched because of the damage it had done to my computer. For a brief second though when finding the image and putting it on my computer for keepsakes, it reminded me of FFR so I decided to check how the website was doing.

The website was down, and the only thing remaining was the man in the striped suit, still grinning on a black background, with the URL redirecting me to the image I had saved on my computer. A voice came from the webpage whispering "You're not the only one.", before closing the internet browser on me. I re-opened it, to find the usual page unavailable screen.

A copy of the image I was able to salvage from my old computer:

Riotpolice

Super Scary Halloween Urban Legend Story

• On October 31st, there was a killer that had killed someone last year. He was detained but then escaped prison after they apparently mishandled him. His name is Jagsaw ( He made his name Jagsaw because Jigsaw is already taken and he thought it would be stupid to name himself after the movie character). He is also a psychopath who plays with his victims in chambers, like the movie Saw but in real life. Nobody has seen him since he broke out.
• Coleen is 25 and very pretty. You've always had a crush on her even if she is your boss. You like to hug her at work when you see her, and she likes to reciprocate the affection. You've even gone out with her to dinner one time. It's like you were meant for each other.
• You are 22 years old with a good job. You play that game everyone thinks is dumb called FFR. You don't really care. You've been getting good at something for once in your life and you'd like to continue your career as an FFR fanatic. After finishing work, the following events take place....
8:30pm October 31st

You: “Wow, that was a long day’s work. It sucks to be the closer at night, but someone’s gotta do it.”

Colleen: “You have everything you need before we lock up?”

You: “Yes I do.” *I can’t wait to get back home and relax on the newest FFR songs that came out today!*

Narrator: Little do you know your wallet is tucked away inside your locker. You feel like it’s in your pocket but that’s only the weight of your Nokia 3310.

Colleen: “Let’s leave.” *Click*Click*Click*

*BEEEP!* *BEEEP!* *BEEEP!*

You: “And we're off!”

Narrator: You hold the door open for Colleen as she steps out and watch as she locks the outside door to the store. Both of you walk to your vehicles parked outside in the parking lot. You walk to her car and open the driver door for her.

Colleen: “Thank you.”

You: “Did you hear about that killer last year? I think it was to this day last year! October 31st."

Colleen: “Yes I did hear about that, I hope he isn’t around anymore. Those police need to find him before someone else gets killed.”

You: “Yeah, they need to find him. Not good to leave someone like that on the streets.”

You: “Goodnight Colleen, see you tomorrow!”

Colleen: “You have a good night too, stay safe!”

Narrator: You shut the door to her car and walk over to your truck. The gas light is on when you turn the key to your truck…

8:55pm

You: “Hmm, might be a good idea to get some gas, I’ll go to that really cheap gas station.”

9:10pm

Narrator: Upon reaching the gas station, something seems off about your pockets….

You: “Can I have seventy dollars at pump 3?”

Cashier: “Sure. Debit or credit?”

You: “Debit please. Let me get my wallet….oh. Oh no. It’s not in here. It’s gotta be here, let me check my truck.”

9:15pm inside your truck

You: Shit…..Where did I leave that wallet?

*Checks glovebox*
Not in here?!

*Checks door panel*
Damnit!

*Checks center console*
You’ve gotta be kidding me…shit shit shit!!

Narrator: Upon learning you’re up a creek without a wallet, there is no way you can get your gas. Inevitability starts to sink in. You turn the key on your truck. There is only one thing you can do. The gas light is still on…

You: “I wonder if I can make it…I-I made my journey even longer by getting to this gas station.”

9:25pm

You: “I…I can make it. I know I can. Just please get me home.”

Conscious: Look at the meter, you’re so low on gas

You: “I know what I can do, I’ll drive slowly and conserve as much gas as I can. I won’t drive quickly.”

Conscious: You’re running out of gas, look at your meter, look how low it is. You have to drive faster if you want to make it back home.

You: “Holy shit I’m almost out of gas.”



9:45pm

Conscious: Drive faster, you’re not going to make it

You: “I have to drive faster, I have to get home!! This is not happening to me, I’m not getting stuck out of gas in the middle of the night!”

9:48pm 20 minutes from your house

You: “I can make it, I know I can!”

*Put* *Put* *Put*

Narrator: You furiously start tapping the gas gauge.

You: “No! NO! STOP! NO STOP! I CAN KEEP GOING!”

*Put *Put* *Puuuurrrrrrrtt-ttt-tttt-t*

You: “THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING! [censored] DAMNIT!!! HOW COULD I HAVE LEFT MY WALLET AT WORK! [censored] DAMNIT!!!”



You: “I can’t believe I’m out of gas. [censored] me.”

9:59pm

You: “I…I know what I’ll do. I’ll sleep in my car until someone passes by.”

10:50pm

*woooshhhh*

You: (asleep) “mhhhhhh”

*Bump*

You: (half asleep) “….uhhhh…..no…….”

*woooooooooshhhh*

Narrator: You wake up slowly, unable to see anything outside. Only the sound and touch of cold air is wooshing from the inside of your car.

You: “Whaaa... Woah- Um, why is the door open?”

Narrator: You realize the door was open to the passenger side. But you never touched it.

You: “Who opened that...what the…”

Narrator: You can hear something in the backseat moving around.

You: ”Someone’s in my car. Oh my god.”








































































































































Killer: Hi there.




You: HOLY [censored]!!! NO, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO KILL ME!!

Narrator: He snatches the seat-belt as fast as lightning and wraps it around your neck and starts to choke you out with it.

You: Stop! I can give you anything you want! Please, stop! No don’t-

Narrator: You feel as his grip tightens around the seat-belt and your words are caught in your throat. It tightens around your neck. You slip into darkness and feel nothingness.

Killer: Ahahaha! Yes! Another victim!! I know just what to do with you....

Narrator: Slowly your body is dragged out of the car and you are taken to a place where nobody will find you.





Time: Unknown
Narrator: You are in a very dark room with a computer. It's a square room with metal on all sides except for one side that looks to be like some very dark, tinted glass. It smells of metal and copper in the room. The computer is running some sort of program, but you can't make it out. Your very tired and come to your senses slowly. There is a keyboard and a mouse sitting near the computer...
You: “Ugh, uggggghhhhh” *hack* *cough*

You: “Where....where am I....”

Narrator: There is someone listening in the room. Then Jagsaw decides to speak.

Jagsaw: “Hello. I was afraid you weren't going to wake up. Listen closely to what I am going to tell you.”

You: “Let me go, you don't need to do this, please!”

Jagsaw: “You value your life based on what comes out of it. I wonder if your value of games outweighs your own life. Or anyone else's life, for that matter. I will give you a chance. A chance to forfeit your games and return to your life.”

You: “What the hell do you want with me? Please, I-I need to go! Let me go!”

Jagsaw: “You like someone, someone special to you. I have her in the other room. Go look.”

Narrator: You stand up and walk over to the window. A light flickers on to reveal Colleen sitting in a chair with metal fingers surrounding them.
You: “What have you done to her? Why is she in here?! Colleen!! Colleen you have to wake up!”

Jagsaw: “If you want to save her, play that FFR game and AAA the song: Reality. You will only have 3 chances to do this. If you do not succeed, she will die by getting tickled to death by these metal fingers and you will be sentenced to play Reality till you die. If you make it, you will both walk out of the room and you will both live fruitful lives. Good luck.”

Narrator: You look closely at the metal fingers and realize they aren't smooth. They are raspy. This machine wouldn't just tickle her to death. It would strip her flesh off eventually...

You: “Please....no......I am not even that good at FFR....”

Colleen: “You have to play the game. Oh dear God, please don't mess up, I don't want to die!”

You: “Okay, okay....I'll do the best I can.”

Narrator: You start playing Reality. You get a good but you decide to keep playing the file to get a feel for the whole file. This is your first try.

You: “[censored] I got a good! Don't worry, I won't let you down. I'm going to play through the whole file and get a feel for it.”

Colleen: “Please just don't let me die! I...I really like you.”

You: “I won't let you down, I promise!”

Narrator: You start to play the file again, this time you start out very strong. You clear the jumpglut section and are now half way through the song in the stream when nerves you have never felt before begin to jump at your throat and choke your ability to read the file correctly. You end up missing and quit out.

You: “[censored] I cannot believe I did that! [censored]!!! My hands are shaking so bad right now baby I...I can't let us down. Please don't, please fingers listen to me. You have to listen to me. You can't fail. Please don't fail. No goods! No goods! We can do this. Please, we can do this.”

Narrator: Colleen is silent. Her face has turned dark toward you and you can't see it. She is crying silently.

You: “Okay we can do this. Not going to mess up, not going to mess up....”

Narrator: You go through the jumpgluts and the stream until the rolls in the very last half of the file...

You: “I can do this, stop breathing so hard please stop! *taptap*taptap*taptap*taptap* YES I DID IT. JUST GET PAST THE STREAM HOLY [censored] YES!!!!”

Narrator: And just like that, you manage to AAA the file.

You: “I can't believe I did it..Yes....yes.....Colleen we are free. Colleen, do you hear that? We are free!!”

*Squeeek*

Narrator: One of the walls opens in your room and the warm, sweet air of the summer breeze flows your face. You have nothing to say. Your arms and legs are shaking so violently you fall to the ground when you get up out of the chair. You walk around into Colleens room and pick her up. She has fainted. You both carry her out of the room and into your new lives.

The End

Callipygian

Once upon a time there were rhythm games and few people cared. Within this niche genre, there was a game called FFR and absolutely noone cared. Instead of worrying about taking arrows to the finger, some people were trying to live fruitful lives, take an arrow to the knee and produce ugly offspring.

Others were supporting their favorite Asian team in the League of Legends tournaments which, as of season 5, had become so popular that Riot had no idea how to handle all the glory, success and publicity anymore. They thought about making easy cash and made the big mistake of turning it from a free into a paid game. They had not counted on the fickleness of their fans, who immediately turned their backs on the game and suddenly found themselves with nothing to do and a hole in their hearts yearning to be filled by another pointless free game.

At that exact moment, Funnygurl and Sorie had both been secretly perfecting a unique technique to get better at FFR. By bouncing their boobs at the right time, they could force a tactical shift of weight balance to the left or right arm. It was also rumoured that the arrows themselves were affected by it; the dominant theory held that, under normal circumstances, arrows were running to get out of sight since they were scared by the pimple-ridden teenage faces staring at them, but now they would slow down and gaze at a spectacle they had never before beheld. In any case, the technique seemed to work well and both girls felt confident streaming their sessions. Millions of bored LoL-fanboys found out and flocked to the streams to follow their new heroes.

This gave such a boost to FFR that the 11th tournament now got massive publicity and the FFR leadership felt confident enough to organize a grand finale for the D7 top 2 that would take place live in a huge stadium, the Kyle Field stadium in Texas. Despite their amazing boob-bouncing skills, funnygurl and Sorie were beaten in D7 by Staiain and samurai, who proceeded to the much-anticipated grand finale.

As the crowd gathered and the players installed themselves in front of their screens, Staiain was getting increasingly nervous. He needed to win, because without the cash prize, he wouldn't be able to pay his rent and would surely die in the relentless cold of the Norwegian fjords. For samurai, the money wasn't the issue; sure, it was nice and it would get him all the fuddruckers burgers he could ever want. However, honor was the real thing at stake here and he wouldn't let the small and unknown, but proud community of Latino samurai down.

To make sure it was going to be an epic battle, some of the most elite steppers had given it their best and had produced some seriously challenging 90+ songs. The hi19hi19 Rave7gamma file was tricky, but destiny wanted both players to AAA it. Dossar made some obnoxious Dossar-patterns and both players felt really sick playing through them, but they both AAA'd again. Bmah made a bmah with the biggest bmah ever in it and it was supereffective, but since none of the players could accurately hit the bmah, it again ended in a tie. AJ got really desperate and decided that Vertex vrofl should be played to determine a winner.

This was the moment of truth. Sure enough, both men got through the first part with relative ease, but then came the insurmountable wall of doom. Samurai tried to sweep himself up into a frenzy, imagining each arrow in the wall as mi40's face. Staiain silently recited an old Norse death metal prayer. The wall was coming closer and closer. The audience was going mad and the stadium almost felt too small to contain so much excitement. The tournament had started late in the evening and there had been several breaks since so many tie-breakers had not been able to produce a clear winner. By now, the morning sun had just come up and as the wall of doom was about to fill the screens, the first rays of the bright, scorching Texan sun entered the open-air stadium. Samurai felt its warm glow in his neck, but did not flinch. Staiain, however, for all his strength and bravery, was blinded by the Viking's only natural enemy: the sun. As it scorched his white skin, Staiain screamed deep guttural Norwegian curses.

His life flashed before him as he imagined himself failing at the wall, but amazingly, he managed to adjust his eyes to the light. These were crucial moments. Losing rhythm or stamina now would mean certain loss. As Staiain got ready to vibrate, the worst possible scenario unfolded itself. As the sun rose further and shone onto his face, Staiain felt that he had to sneeze. He tried to hold it back with all the power inside himself, but it was useless and soon the sneeze was released with a raw strength that took aback everyone.

This was the end. Staiain knew it. He had blown it and would always be remembered as the Viking who was felled by a beam of light. Samurai was already fantasizing about Fuddruckers when something incredible happened. The awesome power of Staiain sneeze, amplified by all the boxes around him finally caused a thumping bass vibration in the huge box underneath his keyboard. All his keys started vigorously vibrating. As samurai lost his stamina and dumped misses on the wall, Staiain, his hands in his hair instead of on his keys, got through the wall unscathed. As he regained his posture, he almost flawlessly finished the file. The crowd, which had been silent and stupefied, finally burst out in applause and cheers.

All the attention went to Staiain, who spontaneously grew a second pair of balls, both of a hard and dark metallic nature. Samurai, meanwhile, retreated and was never seen again. The latino samurai community has searched for him ever since, but to no avail. Some say he became one with the arrows. Others say that Jesus pitied him so much he adopted him in Heaven. Whenever Staiain sneezes, one may faintly hear him sobbing and playing the Solfeggietto on Jesus' piano.

The End.

jjontehhizzu

Well here we go again with another tale of horror.... or hors... however you spell it. Let’s go back in time where laptops were archaic and desktops ruled all, for pc is the best and apple can suck my spooky balls. Shoot I lost my train of thought and started to half mash out some rhymes. Shit there I go again and the rhythm shall now die. Our story begins on the week before Halloween in a small town named Rohe, where two scrawny nerds wasting their break at school, trying to collect tokens of skill and of the obscure. FFR had taken over their lives, but they didn't have much to go off of due to their pint size, so the football jocks decided to give them a surprise...
Jock 1:"hey you guys, do you think you can give us some help on Halloween night? I’m throwing a party and we need some drinks to make it come alive!"
Nerd 1: “what do you want us to do, we're underage too?"
Cowered nerd one as he was interrupted from AAA'ing death piano's etude.
Jock 2:"but you guys can make up some fakes right. Just work your computer magic and get us our prize!"
The jocks grab on to nerd two's shoulders, as a shiver went down his spine he sprung an idea that was absolutely sublime
Nerd 2:"Actually I know a guy, he can buy what you want and fix you up right. But on one condition, we're invited to your party and no questions asked. As long as you have the money he'll show up in a flash."
The jocks checked with one another, and nodded in agreement that this might be their only option. They handed the nerds a list, left the room and came back for one more comment.
Jock 1:"If for some reason you screw this up. We'll make you eat those arrows you adore so much."
The jocks left the room again and an eerie silence grew. Holy crap nerd one thought, they're going to really screw us up.
Nerd 1:"What are you thinking? Are you out of your mind! Who's this guy that decides if we live or die???"
Nerd 2:"Quit your worrying I’ve got this under control. I met this anon on the FFR boards, his profile age is 22 and he's looking for something to do. So we'll invite him along to our fated night of skimpy girl watching and drinking delight."
Nerd 1:"Hey man I hope your right. Kind of seems creepy, but meh, alright."
Nerd two works hard on his message board, tempting the anon to show. To his efforts anon replies.
ANON: “Well I have the supplies, are you sure it’s cool to hang out with these guys?"
Nerd 2:"Of course it is friend and you won’t offend, for it is you bringing the party with you in the end."
ANON: “Well golly gee friend, but I must ask if I can bring a couple friends?"
Nerd two thinks hard and hopes he doesn't answer wrong, but it would be a burden if a couple more tagged along.
Nerd 2:”sorry my good man for there a chance they won’t all fit in, are you cool with one tag along?”
ANON: “Sorry to offend but my lady has some good looking friends!”
After that comment Nerd 2 could not ignore if the chick ratio went up he had more eye candy that would give him what he wanted and possibly more. So he agreed and believed the more the merrier.
The fated night showed up and the party was starting. The nerds thought long and hard about what they should wear and 1 showed up as a token and 2 as an arrow. They knew they were clever as they would be pointed out by anon to all his chicks’ good looking friends. A van pulled up and to their surprise anon showed up with his hot girlfriend and found them instantly.
ANON: “well the booze is flowing and good times are coming.”
Nerd 2: “awesome so where are your girls friends at??”
ANON: “well they were right behind us…. Oh there is their party bus!”
A black bus limo pulled up with the sound cranked on some up beat baseline. You could faintly hear the words “mac….mach….man” being chanted from within but the nerds didn’t care to the feint war cry for they were focused on the prize. The doors swung open and fog rolled out with the song macho man blaring. And out came 20 men dressed as the village people swarming around anon and the nerds.
MachoMan: “Anon where are the two boys that allowed us to come tonight?”
ANON: “why they are right here!”
Anon pointed to the two nerds that were stunned and in disbelief on what just swarmed around them and to their surprise the men picked both of them up and threw them over top of their heads.
MachoMan: “You boys are going to have the best night of your life!!!”
The screams that came from the nerds were chilling as if it was their last.

Moral of the story….. Never trust anons!

YoshL

Giving Thanks

---

It was November 20th.

The last 21 cried thanks. They gave thanks for the muted fall of snow outside. They gave thanks for the fact that they were still alive. They gave thanks in preparation for the following week, Thanksgiving, in hopes that they would remain alive for the occasion. They gave thanks that their shelter, the trees, had trunks sturdy enough to withstand the ebb and flow of the weekly tide that rose and fell, sweeping dozens of comrades away.

The last 21 whispered curses. They uttered under their breath at the foul water, tinged yellow by all of the oil and crude waste thrown into it. The vile repulsive water that sloshed in, claiming a weekly slaughter of comrades in a sudden whirlpool that would appear every Wednesday night, doomed all who entered to be swept under to hell, never to be seen again. The 21 cursed the water, and all of the destruction it had caused. They mouthed curses too at those among themselves, wishing that the water had taken away more of the strong than the weak. Survival was on the mind of each of the 21. Death was not an option.

The last 21 gave thanks again, for the brief resting period where they could stretch without fear of the water. They gave thanks for each person remaining, and made the best of what little time they had left with each other. They had to. They had no other choice. When the waters came, many more lives would be claimed.

The last 21 snarled curses again. They sighed and grumbled as their task of maintaining their tree shelters grew harder and harder, as the water returned even more fiercely than before, lapping at each of the 21's feet, threatening all, and leaving out no-one. The water was back. The water was hungry. The water had no thanks or curses to give, only death and destruction.

The last 21 whispered thanks. They had all made it this far, and dying without so much as a fight against the water felt wrong. At least each of them wanted to live. At least.

The last 21 cursed. The water was already sweeping everyone off of their feet. They had no hope other than to cling to the only piece of green left in their sight, the trees, and hope that their strength wouldn't give out before the oily, piss yellow water dragged them off to their doom. They could only hope, and curse, with no thanks left in their lungs for anything.

------

It was November 27th. It was thanksgiving.

The final 7 gave thanks.

DossarLX ODI

The Beginning: Terror From Beyond

The Kingdom of Synthetic Light provided protection against the Terror From Beyond. It was rumored that there was a Digital Explosion which caused one part of the world to be full of synthetic light, and this part of the world also absorbed all the light from the other half leaving the other half a mystery – a Terror From Beyond the Kingdom.

A small group of exiled people lived in that other dark half, and they called it “Disneyland.” The leader of this group, Nero, was supposedly a Hero that was exiled from the Kingdom of Synthetic Light for his disobedience to the authorities but blew the whistle on many corrupt activities around the Kingdom involving taking away basic resources, especially the light being stolen from the other half of the world leaving everyone else in the dark.

Disneyland was a Rotting Fantasyland full of mysteries and horror. Signs pointed in all directions, leaving a mess of arrows that everyone needed to figure out if they didn’t want to get lost; anyone who got lost was attacked by monsters and died a brutal death. Unfortunately Nero was the only person in his group that survived longer than a month, and when he was all alone he decided to go on a quest to search for the Secret Zombie Room that possessed the power to destroy the Kingdom.

Several more months passed and Nero had no luck finding this room. At this point it was winter time in December. Several misaligned signs had arrows pointing in the same direction and this led to a Snowman. The Snowman saw Nero and gestured him to come close to have a talk.

“I would appreciate if you would Help Me Find My Child Or The Gold,” said the Snowman. “What do you mean find a child out here? Or find gold out here? No way,” replied Nero. “Oh it is much more complicated than that. All of these signs with blue arrows, disjointed, that’s done on purpose so nobody can find the Secret Zombie Room. But I know where it is and my child is in there along with a lifetime’s supply of gold.” Now Nero was interested; after some further discussion Nero was given directions to a mansion.

The mansion was vast, full of bizarre statues and rotting plants and trees. The front double doors were five times as tall as Nero was. With his strength Nero pulled one of the doors open and entered. It was pitch black inside and Nero looked for a source of light. All of a sudden the front doors closed behind him and the room turned bright. A gigantic head taking up the entire entrance room stared directly at Nero with red bloodshot eyes. Voices speaking about the greed of the Kingdom echoed throughout the room and increased in volume. Nero ran to the head’s mouth and jumped inside of it. He lost consciousness for a few hours, then woke up to a maze.

Nero was now In Aisles. No longer were there misaligned blue arrows on the signs. Every sign led to a different passage, but Nero looked for one particular piece of artwork: The Sunshine Girl that the Snowman described, the “Child.” The painting had a small girl wearing a straw hat in a wheat field, and inside of the painting was a pile of gold stained with blood. He couldn’t take his eyes off the picture, and as time passed the picture became more and more distorted. All of a sudden Nero saw himself in a different room with a large Elephant Statue and mirrors.

At first Nero made nothing of the Elephant Statue. More paintings were on the walls and each one consisted of a mutilated face that was zombie-like. A loud elephant roar reverberated throughout the room and Nero looked back at the Elephant Statue; it had increased in size. As fast as he could, he took the paintings and ripped them apart. The elephant’s roars increased in intensity and Nero went to the last painting. He ripped it and the elephant in the room disappeared. This was Zombie Killing, Blood Spilling – the entire place turned into a room full of dead decayed bodies with a sharpened red arrow on the floor. There were three empty painting frames on the wall, and he hit the arrow in the center of the middle frame – PERFECT!

It seemed as if time had stopped. Nero saw a light flashing in Zanzibar Green color, and he found himself in a room full of mirrors with a large pile of gold. Every moment he made was the opposite of what he wanted to do, and he thought of the idea of throwing the gold at the mirrors. For every mirror that was destroyed it seemed like the gold fell into a bottomless pit. Destroying every mirror required a chunk of gold and by the end no gold was left and Nero lay down on the floor with nowhere to go. There was nothing else he could do at that point so he jumped through one of the shattered windows and fell down for what felt like an eternity. He wound up losing consciousness.

When Nero woke up again, he woke up to several bright flashes of blinding light. The light died down after a few minutes; he then found himself inside cave in a thriving forest full of all kinds of fruit he had never seen before. No longer was the fruit rotting; he had successfully carried out his quest of the Secret Zombie Room. All the signs were aligned now, with arrows of several colors and not just blue. Upon arrival of a nearby village following some signs, Nero learned he had been asleep for years upon years and that the original Kingdom was destroyed – the Synthetic Light was distributed to the other half of the world, not just kept in that specific half anymore. Nero told the stories of his adventure and become known as Synthlight. The Terror From Beyond was just the beginning, and Synthlight had many more adventures awaiting him.

Destroy2777

I still remember that time: my homeland came under the veil of a nightmare.

My home, FFR. It was a noble congregation of people of all faces, all nationalities, all personalities, gathered in a single locale to gather, meet, and work themselves to the brink pushing their abilities to the limits for hopes of new strength. Each explorer would march out, armed with naught but his or her own two hands, to combat the creations of the continent in order to train themselves for ever-greater foes; each day met people with both rejoice and pain, success and devastation. In either case, all reunited at nightfall to leisure, be it pleasant conversation with one another or to simply explore beyond the limits of the continent via computers or other modern technologies of the day. Many legends were produced here, both in players and in their creations, and soon the singular land of FFR expanded to unite with several new territories, packed full with new creations for the homeland warriors to explore.

Within these new lands, however, was where a demon awoke. Few knew of the potency of the hidden dangers that patrolled the new territories.

The history of this nightmare was sudden, yet devastating. It would begin with word that some member of our homeland was journeying into the new lands; a common and eventual tale. However, soon, word would pass on that, just after said member's return to the FFR homeland, there struck a criminal. Each incident only ever occurred during the night hours, and only persons utilizing a computer were targeted. Reports continually described how some assassin of unknown origin and visage would fire an arrow into the victim's wrist, boring through muscle and vein, straight through into the victim's keyboard, upon which the wrist and keyboard became affixed to one another, inseparable. Continued reports on the person's condition detail how the wrist underwent extreme muscular and tissue damage in the event, such to the point that the person's hand was either crippled or completely paralyzed; such conditions were also consistently paired with unfathomable pain and uncontrollable twitching of the fingers.

Thereon, many a victim was inquired as to the assassin, all met with the same message: the victim would always claim that they would "accept the fate that had been bestowed upon them" for his or her actions. Seldom was any description of the assassin, or any occurrence in the territories, detailed; mayhap they wished to protect others from falling to the same destructive cycle.

Several months passed in this manner; dozens more fell victim to the same assault, the same arrow, the same shedding of blood, all without an answer to the mystery of the assassin's identity. The territories of FFR swiftly became lands of brutality and carnage, areas that only the mightiest and most foolish members dared to tread.

One day, I turned out a fool. I could no longer stand the suffering of everyone around me; I had to stand up and find the assassin before more fair men and women fell to this monster.

With my only possible hint the recent acquisition of the new territories, I decided to venture forth to explore the beings of these lands. I came upon many a horrifying creation, forms amorphous, bladed, and gargantuan abounding. Though they drove me through grand torment, all of their savageries faded in time, soon to be tame.

Soon, however, another appeared, with form inconceivable: the creature withheld a size but average of those around it, yet was but a pulsating blob, with an utterance so akin to one's torture I pondered how abominable a being could even be formed. Every time I approached, I was met with instant bursts of unholy pain, and was tossed away as simply as a predator's plaything.

Something within me, however, wished to calm this horror, no matter the duress to myself; I had set upon setting an aegis for all of FFR, and I lacked the desire to stop.

Two hours passed. Two long, tormenting hours, that turned my blood into fire and shot agony through every synapse of my corpse, passed. At long last, though, the monster finally relented and calmed, and I sighed in unbound relief.

At the brink of unconsciousness from my exertions, I decided to venture back home; only then I witnessed something of equivalent surprise and terror.

I heard a small, swift sound, ending directly behind me. Its origin was such a distance away that I could not ascertain the sound's source. I turned to face the object.

I beheld, in front of myself, an arrow wrapped in a small paper, with a pencil held between the two. The paper had a message, asking me alone:

"Who do you wish that this arrow kill?"

My thoughts immediately turned to the victims I fought for, and, with my fears dampened by exhaustion and that momentary triumph over the previous monstrosity, I wrote:

"The assassin who strikes with arrows"

...and left for my home.

It was only minutes later that a message began to run across the whole of the warriors that traveled the new territories. From what was left from the debris of the scene, it was determined that a massive explosion, set off by a lone arrow, had generated a shockwave that annihilated the whole of one of the territories.

The very same territory I had returned from, no less.

The assassin had followed his or her word. It seemed that the very abomination I had tamed was the creation of the assassin, and in his or her honor of one he or she considered powerful enough to stop its advance, the assassin had decided to comply with the message I had left: the assassin had taken his or her own life, alongside that of his or her monstrosity.

Relief swept over my entirety. The community was, at last, saved from the same crippling fate that haunted those that had been harmed before us.

So ended the torment, in my eyes. So began the daylight of a new era that others could live without fear in the new lands, to further train against the creatures that dwelled in them.

Still remained one fact, one that until this day, I had not once heard.

Mere days after the explosion incident, a macabre echo began emanating from another of the territories. It was only today that I myself came to witness the same sound.

The noise now possesses my mind... that ghastly wailing. That same tortured sound.

I had saved no one.

Though the assassin himself or herself had vanished, the assassin's creation still lingered, indestructible, immortal to any wound that lay upon it, always searching for a new victim.

There was nothing we could do. There is nothing we can do.

Pain still prevails, eternal.

Mercy on the souls of all who become unfortunate enough to cross this demon. I felt it in that howl: it was an abomination forged to do nothing but cause torment for all, equivalent to its own agony, and forever serves as the butcher of the unknown lands.

If you hear that tortured utterance... escape before it is too late.

Dark_Chrysalis

DIFFICULTIES

As DT145 slowly regained consciousness, he noticed several things out of place. Firstly, someone had removed his clothes and dressed him in grey garb, "DT145" emblazoned on his sleeve. Secondly, he had no clue what happened the night before. And thirdly, he had no idea where he was anymore. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around and grew increasingly distressed. He was in what appeared to be solitary confinement of some sort. Thick, cement walls surrounded him with a solid steel door the only entrance he could see. He was currently resting on a simple bedframe and mattress bolted to one wall, with a stainless steel toilet to the side. A small, round black dome was in the corner, undoubtedly a security camera. At first he thought he was in a prison of some kind, until he realized that the only source of lighting in the room currently was coming from a computer screen in the far corner with a wooden chair in front of it. Where the hell was he?

He slowly removed himself from his covers and set his bare feet down on the ice-cold floor, wincing a little as he walked towards the light source. Approaching the computer, he noticed it was on a log-in screen of some kind, waiting for him. A little sticky note was on the side of the screen; "LOGIN: DT145 PASSWORD: s82jK3ofl" was written on it. Thinking it would be worth a try to figure out what was all going on, he typed in his information and the screen went black for a few seconds before returning with a nearly blank desktop. All that was on it was a flash player standalone as well as a white square that looked like a chatbox. He could move it around but not delete or remove it. As a matter of fact, it wasn't on the taskbar, nor were any other folders to go into; he couldn't even access a start menu of any kind, and keyboard shortcuts didn't work. He doubleclicked on the flash player and was shocked to find the application it started: the FFR R^3 engine. It didn't prompt for his username/password, nor did it appear that any songs were in the game for this version.

Even more confused than when he began his investigation, he decided to give the chatbox a try;

Hello?

He waited a while for a response, but it didn't seem like it was going to happen. He started to walk away from the computer to see if he could find anything else when he heard a "blip" come from the computer. Looking back at the chatbox, his response came.

Yes, we're here.

The hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He wasn't entirely sure anyone would've talked back to him, but now he had the opportunity to actually chat his captors. He returned to the seat and began a conversation with the mystery villains.

What is this place? And who are you?
You should remember. You signed up for this.
Well I don't remember. Care to elaborate?
You signed up for this. Complete your objectives and your freedom will eventually be restored.
I don't even know what to do... and why are you doing this?
Never mind why. Do you see your equipment on the ground by your chair?

He looked down by his chair and noticed some weird kind of helmet and gloves attached by cords through the wall. Figuring the faster he complied the sooner he'd be allowed to leave, he donned the equipment. The gloves were fingerless, with all kinds of wires attached to the outside and what felt like sensors of some kind scratching the backs of his hands. He had to admit, it felt kind of cool to have the gloves and helmet on, and the computer did have FFR on it. This could just be a really great prank being played on him. Though he still feared the worst, he was somewhat reprieved to see things going relatively smoothly. It was just a game after all. He turned his attention back to the screen where his captor continued with the discussion.

Select the Queue option in the game. Your assignment for today is in there. Get going.

He clicked the Queue and saw a list of songs pop-up, starting off easy and progressing in difficulty. He went to Options to start changing his settings but saw that everything was already set up for him. Once again, a little more tension seemed to drain. This person obviously knew him, so it was pretty likely he wasn't in any real danger. He started the playlist, and the dulcet tones of Free Space (FFR Edit) starting playing through the speakers in his helmet. He played through the file, obviously AAAing it without any troubles. The next song started immediately as expected, and he continued through the playlist AAAing everything he encountered for a while. Still not anywhere near difficult enough for him to be bothered to try hard, his mind began to wander and he absentmindedly hit an arrow too early, managing his first Good thus far. His hand itched a little bit when the Good came up, but that was likely a coincidence. He still wasn't entirely used to wearing the gloves yet, and they were a little uncomfortable on the inside.

As the charts began to get difficult for him, he noticed the itching sensation start to pick up and get worse. Wondering if it was really necessary to play with them at all, he stopped playing momentarily to remove them. That's when he started missing arrows, and that's when a painful shock of electricity ripped through his body. He yelped in pain, wrenching the helmet off his head and ripping the gloves off. He noticed as he removed them that his hands were rather red. Was he being shocked the whole time and not realized it? He began to get worried again when his captors messaged him;

What are you doing? Put the equipment on and finish the assignment.

He started getting really angry at this, and responded in kind:

I dont know who this is but this is NOT FUNNY ANYMORE. THAT F*CKING HURT. I'm not doing a damn thing until I get some answers.
We already told you. Put the equipment on and finish the assignment.
And what if I refuse?
Then I guess you'll just have to stay here forever.

DT145 was seething at this point. He got up from the chair and stared straight at the camera in the corner of the room, pointing his finger at it; "This isn't a game anymore! I'm f*cking done with this, alright?! Get in here right now and let me out!" he shouted. A response came on the screen:

Not if you don't put the equipment on and finish the assignment.

"F*CK YOU, AND F*CK YOUR EQUIPMENT!" DT145 screamed at the top of his lungs. He jumped towards the computer and began ripping the gloves and helmet out from the wall. He took the helmet and began bashing the keyboard and screen in with it to emphasize his every word; "GET... ME... OUT... OF... HERE... GOD... DAMNIT..." He took the chair and started smashing it into the pile of electronics that was his computer, splitting it against the table it was on. So enraged was he, that he didn't see a panel slide on the wall behind him, a barrel sliding out from behind the darkness...

=========================================================================

As DT145 slowly regained consciousness from his sedation, he grabbed at his head. He had a tremendous headache, akin to noob ITG players stomping on the arrow panels of his brain for no particular reason. He noticed that he was back in his bed, and even stranger, that all stuff he had destroyed in his tantrum were replaced with brand new equipment while he was out. He rose from his sheets and saw a piece of paper taped to his chest; "Log back in when you're ready," it said. Slowly regaining mobility and clear-thinking, he stumbled back over to his desktop and logged back in. It couldn't hurt more than how he felt right now, he figured. Almost as soon as the screen returned to the desktop, the captors responded:

Please don't do that again. Put the equipment on and finish your assignment.

The nonchalant nature of this comment, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, almost threw DT145 into another rage but he was simply too tired, too hurt, too weak to do anything about it other than reply back:

Would you let your prisoner die here? Don't you need me for something important or not?
You would not be the first to die alone in their cell. And you are more than replaceable.

The last comment made him shiver involuntarily. It was becoming incredibly clear that he was stuck here, with no way out but compliance. On the verge of tears, the captors continued:

If you wish to make this cell your grave we cannot stop you. If, however, you want a glimpse of freedom ever again, put the equipment on and complete your assignment.

He sprang up from his chair and kicked it over, having had all he could muster for the time being. Throwing another fit would likely result in him being injured again. hungry, injured, and just sick of it all. He hobbled back over to his bed and got under his covers, passing out almost instantly.

*******************************************

Several days passed before DT145 reluctantly went back over to the computer again. He couldn't be sure how long it actually was, with no external sources confirming what the time even was anymore. Logging back in, they commented in the chatbox instantaneously once again.

Welcome back. Please put the equipment on and complete your assignment.

Whether it was a combination of the exhaustion, hunger and aggravation, seeing that same statement being droned continuously made him groan out loud. He responded:

If I complete it, will you let me go?
That is not for me to decide. Put the equipment on and complete your assignment.
Will it hurt again?
Of course. This is what you signed up for. We won't warn you again. You have 5 minutes to decide your fate.

DT145 swore to himself as he saw no other way out. He refused to die here, not like this. Not because he couldn't keep his temper under control and swallow his pride for some unknown monster. He slowly reached down and grabbed the gloves and helmet, put them on, and opened the flash player again. Heading into the Queue, he saw a different list this time. The start of it was harder than the previous list, and at the end was simply a file with a blank name and no difficulty listed for it. He stared long and hard at the screen, wondering how it all came to this. He pressed play. As the songs went by in increasing difficulty the pain was worsening as his scores did the same, but he couldn't give up anymore. He wouldn't be beaten like this.

Eventually making his way through the various songs and isolation files that were presented, he finally came across the last song in the list. Great, he thought, fast piano hyper-technical bullshit. He managed to make it through the end of the song, but the pain was nearly unbearable by the end as it was far more challenging than the others in the list. As the last note went by, he nearly collapsed from the effort. However, something wasn't right. It didn't go to the results screen like the queues usually do. It just went back to the same song again.

"What the hell? I finished the song already!" he shouted as the arrows flooded the screen once again. "What's going on?!" He had remembered they could hear him from his last rebellious incident back then, so he assumed they could hear him still, and were watching. Right on cue, the mystery men replied back in the chatbox. He caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye;

You must do better than that.

"Are you kidding me?! I CAN'T! This sh*t's too hard for me to do better!" he screamed back, still agonizingly playing the song. Even worse, it was almost as if the "pain reinforcement" was getting more malicious. It certaintly hurt a lot more than it used to when he managed Goods, and Misses were terrible to overcome. He actually failed out this time, unable to keep pace with the pain entering his system. To his horror, the same song started up once again. He desperately tried to overcome the song, but no matter how many times he played through or failed out of the song it just kept coming back.

"ENOUGH OF THIS! MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE!!" he begged as the pain grew to an almost immeasurable level. At this point everything that wasn't a Perfect sent hundreds of pain signals into his skin, and each one nearly made him pass out. After what felt like the 10th time trying it and as it started up once more, he saw his captors sent another message:

This won't stop until you do better or die trying.

"GRRRAAAAAAAH!!! YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!" he screeched at the screen. "I SWEAR TO GOD IF I EVER GOT OUT OF HERE I WILL F*CKING KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Prove you can do it then.

It was at that moment something deep within him started to come loose. A primal rage he hadn't felt before. This was it. It was now or never; he could feel his lifeforce slipping away with every playthrough. This time, his efforts felt much less in vain. He wasn't doing all that great still, but definitely better than any other attempt he'd had thus far. What's more, he was managing to keep a decently clean full combo as well. "Come on, don't give in. You can do this." his mind reassured itself. He was almost in a hypnotic state of some kind, the pain not being nearly as aggravating as he remembered. His mind had an unusual amount of clarity now despite what was happening. And before he knew it, the song was over. This time, however, the song didn't repeat. The results screen came up, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the keyboard, blacking out.


*******************************************

DT145 lifted his head up from the keyboard to see a message waiting for him as soon as he regained consciousness for the umpteenthed time.

You did well. Thank you for your cooperation today. We'll see you again tomorrow.

Clearly distressed, he mustered the strength to ask back; "I thought you said I was free to go if I completed the assignment. Didn't I do that well enough?"


You clearly didn't read some information when you responded to that PM we sent you.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, puzzled at the odd statement. "What information? Why am I he-" It was at that moment his eyes flashed wide open as his memories started to come back. He remembered back to the front page announcement. The one requesting site members to help become part of the site's team. He had been one of the "lucky" few selected to participate, and had even travelled to meet up with his interviewer. He couldn't remember anything else past that however. Tears welled up in his eyes as he managed to type back; "This... is the job? This isn't what I wanted! None of this was mentioned in your announcements!"

This is your job now. So you better get used to it.

As that last message came through, DT145 started shaking violently, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks as a tortured visage spread across his face. He struggled to keep his composure, managing to mutter through gritted teeth; "How long do I have to be here?"

As long as it takes.

=======================================================

"Oh, good lord..." #18 frowned as he watched the events unfold onscreen. His adjacent partner looked up from his own work, curious as to what the problem was now.

"Something wrong?"

"He's tearing up the cell again. WHY does he keep destroying things? This equipment isn't cheap to keep manufacturing."

"I dunno, can you honestly blame him? He's still getting used to all this. It IS a drastic lifestyle change after all..." #37 stared off into the distance, scanning the various screens inside their cubicle. Some of them showed video feed of the other "volunteers" engaged in the very few activities availble to them: playing their files, sleeping, staring at the ceiling. Others had equations and text flashing upwards as the computers analyzed copious amounts of data. "...For everyone, myself included. In any case," he digressed with a smirk, "it certainly doesn't help when he's stuck playing one of your files now does it?"

#18 turned back to his monitor with a huff, absentmindedly fiddling with his keychain. "And what's that supposed to mean? My files are always of the highest quality."

"Right, they're all so unique and perfect. Let me guess, is it the one with unnecessary difficulty spikes? Polyrhythms and jumpgluts?"

#18 sighed as he stared at his keychain, eyeing the Typhlosion charm attached to it. "No one here understands my vision."

"Well, you should probably go see an optometrist pretty damn quick," 37 quipped. "Maybe they'll be able to sort out your vision for you."

"*cough* Metro.. *cough*"

#37's expression quickly grew sour. "Hey, there was NOTHING wrong with that file! It's not my fault Carlos is a dick."

"Well maybe if you stepped something other than buzznoise crap," #18 retorted, "you'd learn how to achieve decent structure in your files."

"Like you're one to talk!" #37 fired back. "You do realize they make music outside of Japan, right?"

"Enough..."

The two staff abruptly stopped arguing and turned their heads simultaneously at the sound of the voice coming from the loudspeaker in the corner of the room. Above them, a set of lights turned on from inside a shaded gallery overhead. The silhouette of a tall, slender figure could be seen through the translucent window shade. Near silence ensued, with only the soft whirrs from the multitude of CPUs and the tinny sounds of DT145's continuing tantrum drifting through a pair of speakers to be heard. It couldn't be said what the state of his room was now, as the camera was apparently ripped from the wall.

"#18, please take care of our belligerent guest before he causes further damage to the premises."

"Er, yes sir." #18 turned to his station and pressed a black button. A few seconds later a noticeable drop in the room's noise level could be heard, with the ruckus ceasing shortly after.

"Thank you. Now then, how did our newly acquired assistant manage on his first assignment?"

#18 pulled up a window on his screen and scanned the results listed. "Well, sir, it seems like all systems were functioning properly at the time, and his readings indicate File#1782 to have a difficulty rating between 85 and 88. Data from other eligible subjects corroborate this, with 95% certainty. ETA for exact rating; 18 playthroughs."

"Excellent. Have the cleanup crew take care of DT145's quarters while he's enervated. Ensure all testing equipment is reinstalled and funcioning, and please hurry. We have a busy schedule ahead of us still."

"Yes sir!" #18 returned to his workstation to begin mandating the instructions to their respective parties, leaving #37 to gaze up at the gallery alone. The shadowed figure appeared to be turning around to go about his own business, whatever that may be. Before he went out of sight, however, #37 couldn't help but speak up.

"Sir, does he get any food now?"

The shadow stopped, its head turning back towards the window. "Those who do not wish to maintain proper conduct while in this facility do not deserve such luxuries as a hot meal."

"But won't he die like this?"

#18 snapped his head sideways, an overtly aggresive expression on his face. "Do NOT question the boss' motives! He has his reasons for doing things his way and doesn't have to explain a DAMN thin-"

"Easy now, Captain," the shadow sighed, raising his hand; "Your colleague is still new here, and not as privy to the machinations of this website. A moment, please."

Unsure of what would happen next, the two workers watched as the shadow slowly strolled off the side of the window, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps from behind a locked door. An involuntary shudder ran the length of #37's spine, having only ever heard the boss' voice and seen him concealed behind the lookout's shade. From what he understood, hardly anyone had ever seen their ringleader in person. Even #18 looked visibly troubled by the situation. A small "schlick" and "beep" could be heard as the boss swiped his keycard, and slowly turned the handle. As the door swung open, the body of a tall, slender man stepped out from behind the shadows. #37 was surprised to see how informally the man seemed to be dressed. He was by no means in rags and tatters, but surely a man in his position of power could afford to wear something more impressive than slacks and a polo?

"So, #37." He jumped at the sound of the boss' voice. "What questions can I help clear up for you?"

"I, er... well, I guess I just... don't really know why we're doing this," he managed to ask. He watched as the boss' steely gaze pierced into his soul, raising an eyebrow at the question; "Not... that there's anything wrong with this. I guess... just, why like this? I... I'm sorry I can't be... I'm not sure how..."

The boss held up his hand to bring #37's stuttering to a halt. He slowly paced towards one end of the room, then back towards the workers, seemingly deep in thought. All #37 could do was sit and watch as his job (and possibly his life) seemed to hang in the balance. Finally, the boss spoke.

"37, do you know about 'fight-or-flight?' "

"S... sir?" was all he could manage to squeak out. #18 turned his attention to the conversation as well, though not removing his eyes from his screen.

The boss began walking in circles as he explained himself; " 'Fight-or-flight.' It's basic human physiology. When we, as animals, experience threatening or distressing stimuli from our environment, certain changes happen throughout the body: your heart rate and breathing increase; your pupils and blood vessels dilate; muscle tension increases for more power. The entire body's way of doing things drastically changes for one single, solitary purpose: survival. You hear stories about mothers lifting cars off their children, or people outrunning animals no human should ever be able to keep up with under normal circumstances."

He stopped pacing and turned to face #37 again. "And it is exactly this power that we must tap into. In order to get the absolute best effort out of an individual, you must activate this primal response at will. No amount of token reinforcements like credits or prizes will ever amount to the sheer strength, focus, and determination that can be obtained when someone's very existence is on the line. Only when this primeval, animalistic being is brought forth into this world can you truly know for sure that they've done all they can in their endeavors. That their efforts are undeniably all they can muster."

A look of absolute conviction and superiority began to dawn on his face as he stared up at the ceiling; "And that's why this new Rating System will be by far the most accurate and consistent system in all of gaming history. No more will people need to question what constitutes an Oni-get or not, or whether people should be D7. They'll simply know, with absolute certainty. Even future files will be automatically rated by simply applying the formulae to them. No one will be able to compete with our overwhelming precision, and no one will ever question our authority again..."

He turned to look back at #37, staring mouth agape at him with the slightest hint of terror on his face. -"I trust I have answered all your questions by now?"- All #37 could do was jerkingly nod his head, his expression frozen. "Excellent!" he exclaimed, his demeanor returning to its original passive state. He turned on his heel and headed back towards the door; "Now then, I'll leave you to your duties. We still have several files with unacceptable certainty levels, and a new batch coming out next week. Do not fall behind."

As he grabbed the door handle to close it behind him, he turned his head and gave the workers one final gaze as his face slowly faded back into the shadows.

"Cheers..."

[Charu]

Zageron, was this your idea?

[YoshL]

One day...reshiram submitted a file with no white notes in it.

#creepypasta

[choof]

CHILLVISION 6 HAUNTED HOUSE

I'm doin it

[Xiz]

Here is my story

Once upon a time, charu's face.

The end.

In all seriousness this looks really cool, I probably wont join because too busy but I can't wait to read all of these

[Funnygurl555]

once upon a time
stepmania
the end

[Zageron]

Originally Posted by Charu

Zageron, was this your idea?

lol, no.
However, this sounds like a wicked idea. I'm so down.

[yo man im awesome]

Originally Posted by Funnygurl555

once upon a time
stepmania
the end

JESUS CHRIST how horrifying

[psychoangel691]

Once upon a time there was a great Stepmania master. He ruled the Stepmania world and could not be beaten.

Suddenly

CTS

The end

<3

[Red Blaster]

I've got one, but how do we submit? Mine is a short story I wrote a few months back, but that being said it's like 12 pages long so I dunno if it would fit in a comment or not.

[gold stinger]

A scary story involving stepmania? Oh god. I don't suppose we can copy already current creepy stories, or make a spinoff from other famous creepypastas to make the story fit the genre, can we?

[psychoangel691]

Originally Posted by Red Blaster

I've got one, but how do we submit? Mine is a short story I wrote a few months back, but that being said it's like 12 pages long so I dunno if it would fit in a comment or not.

Usually I use Google docs in cases like this where it's lengthy cause you can set it to where anyone with a link can view.

[Red Blaster]

Ehh..nevermind..it has to be about FFR.
Annnnd I'm out.

[gold stinger]

Hooked an idea for a story, might write a bit tonight. Who knows, might finish before the night's out.

Are we allowed to have other FFR players proofread our stories as long as they don't plagiarize? Or is this strictly solo/by the individual/no help.

[foxfire667]

Originally Posted by gold stinger

I don't suppose we can copy already current creepy stories, or make a spinoff from other famous creepypastas to make the story fit the genre, can we?

Try not to be outright derivative in nature with your story if you can help it. Make a good effort to be a bit unique and not just rehash an existing tale.

Originally Posted by gold stinger

Are we allowed to have other FFR players proofread our stories as long as they don't plagiarize? Or is this strictly solo/by the individual/no help.

I'll say you should try and make this as much of your own effort as you can. However I won't make it a rule to keep the story to yourself before submitting or anything, because there really isn't any way I could stop someone from doing it.

[gold stinger]

ps the FFR event threads here & the banner thread should be up in the Latest Events section of the home page, because you know, they're new, and they're events.

[Wayward Vagabond]

The last man in the world logged into FFR. There was a recent credit transaction.

[gold stinger]

about half way done rip everyone else

[VisD]

Round 3 is all Synthlight files