Arrow Gamer
America's Dictator
Grox orders are to bomb Earth. UN's orders are to stay put. Lastly, the Celtics announce they are willing to offer all their players for Lebron James.
LeBoshWade Nes: Bringing the HEAT
- Thread starter Nuka-sama
- Start date
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
Blasphemy. Bosh refuses this update.
TheLizardKing
Let's talk Michelle.
To: Whom it may concern
From: L-bron
Yo, I just watched some real fraked up documentary on these things call Cylons. Erryone watch yo backs.
From: L-bron
Yo, I just watched some real fraked up documentary on these things call Cylons. Erryone watch yo backs.
Omega124
Challenging Fate
NHL orders are to start a turf war with their NBA counterparts, and help the Canadian invasion in any way.
Eltain
Deity
If the player doesn't post something soon I would like to claim bestshot9, nuke. Is that okay?
Grandkhan
Telvanni Master Wizard
Diego Maradona's Orders;
to: teh wurld
from: DIEGO MARADONA, HAND OF GOD
DIEGO MARADONA, HAND OF GOD foramly claims al of Antarctica as riteful proprety of mai empier.
Spoiler :
to: teh wurld
from: DIEGO MARADONA, HAND OF GOD
DIEGO MARADONA, HAND OF GOD foramly claims al of Antarctica as riteful proprety of mai empier.
bestshot9 had just finished watching some television and was preparing to go to bed. However, before he did, the sudden call of nature overtook him. Grabbing his trusty laptop, he went to the bathroom, put the toilet seat down, and got comfortable. Pooping with nothing to read was always boring for him.
"Let me see what's been going on in LeBoshWade Nes." he said out loud to himself, as the only person who ever took the effort to talk to him. He began scanning through the thread, catching up on goings-on in the game world. Suddenly he saw a post by another NESer that made him crap a rage brick.
"Eltain wants to claim ME?!" he illogically yelled at his computer screen. It wasn't his trusty computer's fault someone on the other side of the internet was trying to claim him as their own, but, being the trusty computer it always was, it took the abuse silently, without complaint. "What a jerk! I have a full time job, I can't constantly be on the forums posting and stuff! So I was inactive for a few hours on the thread, that's just total BS!" the poor, trusty computer continued to say nothing, its feelings hurt, even though it knew bestshot9 was not angry with it, but rather just taking his anger out on it.
In disgust, he slammed the laptop close. He glared angrily at the boring off-white colored wall before him, fuming. After a tense few moments of him cursing the other NESer out from under his breath, he regained his composure. "What would Obama do?" he asked himself, the same question he asks whenever he feels himself in a moment of weakness. Obama was his hero, being the leader of the free world and all. "You know what?" he asked himself again, "Maybe I'll ask the Man himself."
Nodding to himself, he began typing a story for LeBoshWade NES, followed by a little bit of diplomacy, and his orders. His computer also began to relax again, now that its owner's sudden outburst had subsided, and enjoyed the calming, sensual feeling of bestshot9's fingers lightly typing at it's keys.
If it could purr, it would.
-----
To: President Obama
From: bestshot9
Sir, Mr. President, I have just found myself in a moment of weakness, swearing out a complete stranger over the internet I've never met over a simple forum game that, in the long run, will never affect anything. Am I wrong for doing this? If not, why do I feel so bad about it? What do you recommend I do to make myself feel better/make the situation right?
Your fellow citizen,
bestshot9.
P.S. I voted for Romney, but we can still be cool, right?
------
OOC: Orders
"Let me see what's been going on in LeBoshWade Nes." he said out loud to himself, as the only person who ever took the effort to talk to him. He began scanning through the thread, catching up on goings-on in the game world. Suddenly he saw a post by another NESer that made him crap a rage brick.
"Eltain wants to claim ME?!" he illogically yelled at his computer screen. It wasn't his trusty computer's fault someone on the other side of the internet was trying to claim him as their own, but, being the trusty computer it always was, it took the abuse silently, without complaint. "What a jerk! I have a full time job, I can't constantly be on the forums posting and stuff! So I was inactive for a few hours on the thread, that's just total BS!" the poor, trusty computer continued to say nothing, its feelings hurt, even though it knew bestshot9 was not angry with it, but rather just taking his anger out on it.
In disgust, he slammed the laptop close. He glared angrily at the boring off-white colored wall before him, fuming. After a tense few moments of him cursing the other NESer out from under his breath, he regained his composure. "What would Obama do?" he asked himself, the same question he asks whenever he feels himself in a moment of weakness. Obama was his hero, being the leader of the free world and all. "You know what?" he asked himself again, "Maybe I'll ask the Man himself."
Nodding to himself, he began typing a story for LeBoshWade NES, followed by a little bit of diplomacy, and his orders. His computer also began to relax again, now that its owner's sudden outburst had subsided, and enjoyed the calming, sensual feeling of bestshot9's fingers lightly typing at it's keys.
If it could purr, it would.
-----
To: President Obama
From: bestshot9
Sir, Mr. President, I have just found myself in a moment of weakness, swearing out a complete stranger over the internet I've never met over a simple forum game that, in the long run, will never affect anything. Am I wrong for doing this? If not, why do I feel so bad about it? What do you recommend I do to make myself feel better/make the situation right?
Your fellow citizen,
bestshot9.
P.S. I voted for Romney, but we can still be cool, right?
------
OOC: Orders
Spoiler :
Terrance888
Discord Reigns
The BAWS can't be stopped.
I turn into a jet LIKE A BAWS.
I bomb the Chinese LIKE A BAWS.
HELL YEAH.
I turn into a jet LIKE A BAWS.
I bomb the Chinese LIKE A BAWS.
HELL YEAH.
The multiverse crackled and belched as a vast distortion rippled through space. Azure lightning tore out from a central point, before yawning open into an n-dimensional hypersphere. At the center of this yawning gash in reality emerged a great, irregular rectangle of metal, resembling nothing so much as a vast deck of cards, wrapped up in a nightmarish maze of tubing..
Lights on the vessel blinked for a moment, before brightening into full illumination as space around it returned to normality. Below it was a familiar sight: our own Earth- or at least a reasonable approximation thereof.
Oh the ship's bridge, the Admiral gazed over the planetary vista, holding his flippers together in a pensive manner.
"Helmsman Pikt, please make an expository report, so that our audience knows why we are here."
The ensign, a penguin (as was typical of the crew), turned to face the Admiral, saluting as he responded.
"Class Eight Reality Disturbance Sir."
Another penguin, this one festooned with cybernetic augmentations, looked up from his computer bank.
"It's got intercontinuity crossovers at a scale rarely seen outside of the fanfiction branes, Admiral Trik. It reads nearly as a ZPNES-type universe, but... well, it isn't."
"Are the polar bears behind this?"
"No signs of polar bears sir." responded the Pikt, "Or any of the other multiversal animals, for that matter."
"They may be conducting their machinations from the shadows. Moderate likelihood."
The Admiral brushed imaginary dust off of his shiny medals and straightened his authoritative hat as he turned away from the not-Earth, addressing his crew.
"So then, our situation is thus: We have come across one of the most unstable and unpredictable Nesverses detected in years. What evidently began as some sort of sports-related NES has rapidly disintegrated into a self-aware parody of itself, opening up interfaces with a diverse range of other universes... and one potential overlap with an alpha-reality specimen."
The crew gasped.
"Alpha-reality?" The helmsman was the first to break the silence.
"Thank you for allowing me to continue my exposition," said the Admiral, "I refer to a being which originates from the theoretical 'core reality' from which our multiverse extends."
"An NESer?"
"In the flesh, Helmsman Pikt."
"Admiral Pikt. If the situation is indeed this unstable- and our current readings provide no indications to the contrary- then why in Penguinska's name are we here, when this whole dimension could undergo a freeze or meta-collapse at any moment?"
"Because Diego Maradona has claimed Antarctica for himself."
"Ah. Well, that just won't do."
"Indeed. Pikt, bring the vessel into low Antarctic orbit. Upon re-entry, you may consider yourself restored to the rank of Forgemaster. Depart the vessel with Gris, our military coordinator, and activate the giant war foundries which we have conveniently buried under the Antarctic ice sheets of every potential reality."
A threatening-looking penguin with a red bandana gave Pikt a cheery nod, before returning his loving attentions to the weapon clutched tightly in his flippers.
And with a shuddering groan, the massive, penguin-crewed vessel descended into the crisp, Antarctic summer air. A few native penguins looked on as a few figures plummeted out of the spaceship, hitting the snowy ground with a muffled thump.
Pikt moaned in mild discomfort as he popped his dislocated bones back into place. Gris popped out of a snowbank, nonchalantly brushing the powder off of him.
"Oww... damnit, I swear, next time we're bringing parachutes."
"You're soft Pikt."
"Oh yeah? While you were eaten by Pac-man once."
"Just press the button."
The Helmsman-turned-Forgemaster fumbled around in his silky black and white coat, before pulling out a remote. It had a single, circular red button. He pressed it.
The ice shuddered, lurched and then, abruptly, shattered. Shards the size of aircraft carriers hurtled into the air, propelled upwards by a black edifice surging forth from deep below. Vast stacks and chimneys pushed up through the broken crust, followed by the deep bellows in the core of the forges. The building surged ever upwards, unfurling into a vast pyramid. Smoke belched out of the top, while an orange glow indicated the searing heat within.
And, as the first of the mammoth fragments of ice completed their parabolic journeys and returned to the surface that had spawned them, shattering into thousands of pieces, the two penguins stood resolutely, not flinching at the thick clouds of ice crystals blotting out the vision. It was all cosmetic, of course- penguin technology had long since surpassed the need for such crude systems of manufacture. However- and no self-respecting penguin would deny it- the whole setup looked damn cool, and there's a lot to be said for good style.
Lights on the vessel blinked for a moment, before brightening into full illumination as space around it returned to normality. Below it was a familiar sight: our own Earth- or at least a reasonable approximation thereof.
Oh the ship's bridge, the Admiral gazed over the planetary vista, holding his flippers together in a pensive manner.
"Helmsman Pikt, please make an expository report, so that our audience knows why we are here."
The ensign, a penguin (as was typical of the crew), turned to face the Admiral, saluting as he responded.
"Class Eight Reality Disturbance Sir."
Another penguin, this one festooned with cybernetic augmentations, looked up from his computer bank.
"It's got intercontinuity crossovers at a scale rarely seen outside of the fanfiction branes, Admiral Trik. It reads nearly as a ZPNES-type universe, but... well, it isn't."
"Are the polar bears behind this?"
"No signs of polar bears sir." responded the Pikt, "Or any of the other multiversal animals, for that matter."
"They may be conducting their machinations from the shadows. Moderate likelihood."
The Admiral brushed imaginary dust off of his shiny medals and straightened his authoritative hat as he turned away from the not-Earth, addressing his crew.
"So then, our situation is thus: We have come across one of the most unstable and unpredictable Nesverses detected in years. What evidently began as some sort of sports-related NES has rapidly disintegrated into a self-aware parody of itself, opening up interfaces with a diverse range of other universes... and one potential overlap with an alpha-reality specimen."
The crew gasped.
"Alpha-reality?" The helmsman was the first to break the silence.
"Thank you for allowing me to continue my exposition," said the Admiral, "I refer to a being which originates from the theoretical 'core reality' from which our multiverse extends."
"An NESer?"
"In the flesh, Helmsman Pikt."
"Admiral Pikt. If the situation is indeed this unstable- and our current readings provide no indications to the contrary- then why in Penguinska's name are we here, when this whole dimension could undergo a freeze or meta-collapse at any moment?"
"Because Diego Maradona has claimed Antarctica for himself."
"Ah. Well, that just won't do."
"Indeed. Pikt, bring the vessel into low Antarctic orbit. Upon re-entry, you may consider yourself restored to the rank of Forgemaster. Depart the vessel with Gris, our military coordinator, and activate the giant war foundries which we have conveniently buried under the Antarctic ice sheets of every potential reality."
A threatening-looking penguin with a red bandana gave Pikt a cheery nod, before returning his loving attentions to the weapon clutched tightly in his flippers.
And with a shuddering groan, the massive, penguin-crewed vessel descended into the crisp, Antarctic summer air. A few native penguins looked on as a few figures plummeted out of the spaceship, hitting the snowy ground with a muffled thump.
Pikt moaned in mild discomfort as he popped his dislocated bones back into place. Gris popped out of a snowbank, nonchalantly brushing the powder off of him.
"Oww... damnit, I swear, next time we're bringing parachutes."
"You're soft Pikt."
"Oh yeah? While you were eaten by Pac-man once."
"Just press the button."
The Helmsman-turned-Forgemaster fumbled around in his silky black and white coat, before pulling out a remote. It had a single, circular red button. He pressed it.
The ice shuddered, lurched and then, abruptly, shattered. Shards the size of aircraft carriers hurtled into the air, propelled upwards by a black edifice surging forth from deep below. Vast stacks and chimneys pushed up through the broken crust, followed by the deep bellows in the core of the forges. The building surged ever upwards, unfurling into a vast pyramid. Smoke belched out of the top, while an orange glow indicated the searing heat within.
And, as the first of the mammoth fragments of ice completed their parabolic journeys and returned to the surface that had spawned them, shattering into thousands of pieces, the two penguins stood resolutely, not flinching at the thick clouds of ice crystals blotting out the vision. It was all cosmetic, of course- penguin technology had long since surpassed the need for such crude systems of manufacture. However- and no self-respecting penguin would deny it- the whole setup looked damn cool, and there's a lot to be said for good style.
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
From Bosh
To Penguins
Yo. Have you funky balls of black and white from outer space heard the word of math? Educate yourselves boys. Education is the key to a successful life. Word.
Orders:
Spend half of salary on the Foundation for Equal Opportunities for all Penguins. Spend the other half on strippers and booze at LeBron's parties.
To Penguins
Yo. Have you funky balls of black and white from outer space heard the word of math? Educate yourselves boys. Education is the key to a successful life. Word.
Orders:
Spend half of salary on the Foundation for Equal Opportunities for all Penguins. Spend the other half on strippers and booze at LeBron's parties.
Eltain
Deity
quoo don't you think Mr. LeBron will pay for the strippers and booze himselves? Don't you think the strippers and booze would provide themselves, for free? What is wrong with you?
The Ottoman Empire would like to congratulate Diego Maradona on his recent acquisition of cool war-factories in Antarctica.
The Ottoman Empire would like to congratulate Diego Maradona on his recent acquisition of cool war-factories in Antarctica.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
Eltain you miserable fool. Of course the strippers need the monies. What, are they plants? Do they photosynthesize all their energy? They need food bro. And warm things in their mouth. Possibly booze too.
Eltain
Deity
.. :'( I was just saying LeBron is awesome and would pay for them himself, becaue LeBron is the baws. (No offense Terrance.)
I must regretfully resign from the NES, nuke. NPC me well.
I must regretfully resign from the NES, nuke. NPC me well.
Seon
Not An Evil Liar
I would say that is a good way to avoid a pun-itive measure but than it would be Ibronic
qoou
Emperor
- Joined
- Dec 13, 2007
- Messages
- 1,991
omfg. those orders were secret; you ing ing ing ing ing ing ing ing OOC cheater. nuke plz ban this guy.
Bosh declares war on the Muslims for being OOC cheaters.
Similar threads
