HOLEQUEST.
Do you expect to find pit-holes to an abyssal hell within your own home - your own living quarters? If the answer is no, then you use common sense, and just so happen to be not safe enough to continue living in the abyssal hellhole named “Destroy the Godmodder 2: Operatorrrrrrr!”, or the Trinity of its worlds. Some of you are wondering how I fell in the hole, and here, I’ll tell you. I was pacing throughout my home, a laboratory in the middle of Michigan, going back, and forth, back and forth, and back, and forth. This is a usual thing for me.
I paced back, and forth, and back in forth, and in the exact opposite of a miracle, I fell within a hole, 500,000,000 nanometres deep. It was mortifying, like my sense of self, my heart, was ripped out of me, and like I was left to suffer. There was no up, there was no way out, there was just an in, and a within, and everything within was sealed. I could look where there was not, but there was seemingly no exit, and it was just me, myself, and I, and my laptop, which I managed to grab from What Was Not.
I trialled and stepped within What Was Not. It wasn’t a long walk, because there was little to nowhere to walk, and little to nowhere to climb up from. I fiddled with my weapon, Corruption’s Guardian, and swapped it from the power of the banker, to the power of the spammer, to the power of the gamemaster, to the power of the insane demiurge, and watched, and waited. Now, eventually, my terminal descended from the sky to mock me, but you already saw me. I twitched, and I watched, as voices from above mocked me, and then I snapped, and then the world went insane.
The corners of my mind where all that seemed to be left, that which defined the boundaries of the hole, and a desperate hope of escape. Within my mind are the Curses of things, things like the fractal being, that manipulate and provoke for the power of the snerson conspiracy. Their power is truly insane, and their claws grip the edges of this earth. The Curse here appeared to be superseded, warped by the power of some form of appeal. I seeked, and seeked, and scraped across my mind, trying to escape the constraints of the hole, before I gripped this Curse, a distorted and strange thing, before pulling it out.
H. HHHHHH. Unbridled hate came within the Curse, a throne with muscles sewn onto its very being. It was a violation of reality, even with these Curses being violations of reality already. The hate manifested within an avatar, which felt like it was designed to be appealing. It was an anime archetype, similar to that of the form of Scratch, with long black hair, and deadened purple eyes, but my GM intuition, now that my Terminal allows me access to it again, it felt like a distorted sculpture of something that already existed. The thing twisted, and it hated everything. My words to it were infantile, something like:
“i know i make deals with eldritch Agents and Overseers a lot i mean i was born within a laboratory within michigan but i don’t remember making deals with you please my soul does not belong to you leave me alone miss hate abomination if you don’t i will rewrite minor portions of the godmodder’s script to get my servants to kill you”
It crawled towards me. It seemed particularly incensed by everything within the mind it had somehow found itself within, but the latter sentence was an absolute blunder, and it spiked up, before my mind snapped. It ran up to me, and lightly blew on my cheek. I went into utter fear, hatred, and madness. I remember when I was younger, and I fought a man named Carlos to gain my signature weapon, Corruption’s Guardian. It was a mad dance, and I was at a severe disadvantage. This was it here. I screamed, and mustered up my mind as a blade, before cutting, and cutting, and cutting.
I fell out of the hole, and snapped back into reality. I spent an hour obsessively writing up a script for the cool and new fight that will be happening within about two weeks, with the abomination girl. Screw her.
GODMODDER: What if I told you I set up the hole, Dungkaka?
LOLITA DOC SCRATCH: It was truly humorous, and I thank you so much, my dearest Richard, in addition to my other employer, for giving me control over these curses. My role as a subtle manipulator seems to shift, but no matter. Only a fool would believe that roles exist here.
DUNGKAKA: YOU ALL ARE REPTILIANS FROM THE CONSTELLATION DRACO, WHY ARE YOU PUTTING FISH-GIRLS IN MY HEAD
GODMODDER: The Doctor is, Kaka! I’m not. I’m the Godmodder. I kill people, and I take their names, unlike A Fractal, that god of the conspiracy. He just takes people’s names, like the bearer of that shiny 1NTERPUNCTUAT10N blessing.
LOLITA DOC SCRATCH: I’m just a mannequin girl. Why could I possibly be a snake.
Due to time constraints, this replaces today's dop, as opposed to accompanying it. The update is on Tuesday.
