The atmosphere in the room was palpable. A charge played across every exposed surface of Brett's skin as he sat in front of the glowing monitor, his face suffused by the underglow from the winking LEDs of his keyboard. These were always the best moments, the thread had been primed, interest had been weighed and he knew that this was a live one. Exhaling slowly, he clicked the Reply button and allowed himself to shudder exactly once with the frisson of what he was about to do. It was all about control. The others didn't understand, they would never understand but it mattered not to Brett, he knew what he wanted and he got it every time. Slowly, reverently his fingers played across the keyboard as he prepared his post. Everything was perfect for this moment, the comment he was replying to had precisely the right tone. He had toyed with it for some time, rolling it around, playing with the consistency and strangely lumpen verbiage that it contained. The point contained within the post didn't matter to him, what excited him was the potential, the other point that the author hadn't intended and hadn't even implied within it. Brett knew it was there though. It called to him, a siren submerged within the unbeautiful edifice that was the other post. He knew how to prise it free, how to reveal its glory and bask in the reflected light of the true meaning. His excitement mounted and he felt himself grow short of breath, his fingers stumbled and he momentarily felt a flash of anger as he was forced to resort to the backspace button to erase the typo. Clearing his mind of the fleeting discordance, he once again embraced the body of the post. He had crafted many just like this one, each one perfectly weighted and exquisitely wrought from the depths of his fertile imagination. The post was finished. It was a simple thing on the face of it, barely a sentence of text enshrouded within the white of the forum background. He savoured it for a moment already imagining the response that it would elicit. He licked his lips as his breath came in short, ragged stops and the mouse cursor hovered over the Post Reply icon. He felt the tension build up in his finger as it tightened on the button and an almost giddy feeling washed over him. A sudden thought occurred to him and he moved the cursor away and back into the text field. The message was perfect, there was no need to edit any of the carefully chosen words but, as a wry smile played over his lips, Brett knew that it could still be improved. Comma by comma, he deleted all the punctuation in the post. This would be one for the ages, an example of his work at the very top of his game. Once more he suppressed a shudder of ecstasy as he finally clicked on the post reply button. The forum software cycled for eternal, agonising milliseconds before serving him the updated page with his post at the bottom. There for all to see but only for Brett to truly understand. He wiped his chin and began his favourite ritual of counting out loud to one hundred before jabbing a trembling finger onto the F5 key. This was a live one and he knew it, no-one else would ever understand.
Much cleaner than Ozzo's, Iain! The only good that can come out of this thread at this point is the resurrection of The Narrator.
Wow, that is just sick and creepy in so many ways. You need to seek professional help Iainc, and quickly.
Says the guy who does nothing but attack people on a forum all day long and call them all bullies when they fight back.
"Wow, that is just sick and creepy in so many ways. You need to seek professional help Iainc, and quickly," Brett typed, fingers slick with sweat. He allowed himself a small grunt of satisfaction as he fired the message off into the ether. He'd told him, but good. Still, though - the glimmer of satisfaction couldn't kill the fear, that creeping, grasping, encroaching panic. How had he known? How could he have known what Brett did with his secret, private moments? They were all against him, of course, that went without saying - but surely they weren't so far gone as to spy outside his bushes, or plant cameras in his Debate Room, the secret sanctum where he composed his one liners and contemplated how best to show those stupid liberals what for. No, no. It was just a coincidence. It had to be a coincidence. There was nothing to worry about. He was safe. He was secure. No one knew. His fears allayed, Brett finally gave in to the secret urgings that boiled inside of him, one shaky hand directing his mouse, while the other began to slide down his oiled, hairless chest. With a sharp intake of breath, he clicked - Sanctum Santorum. It was time. Oh, it was time.
This thread is like Teddy Rex DX firing a shotgun with its barrel cut in half lengthwise in a crowded room. Lots of noise, gas and people getting sprayed with shot. Pointless, violent and with a completely nonsensical motivation, but decidedly non-lethal.
In that thread or outside of it? It seemed like most people in the thread (the fanfic one, right?) were enjoying it, and you even suggested righting a book with him. It was definitely not as bad as I was expecting given the reactions in this thread. Unless something got edited out?
After going through this thread, I am of the opinion that the denizens of the river Kawaii should fashion a Broken Forum grognard gay dating sim. Tell the story of our epic romances to the entire world!
It's already happening. Well, except for the current lack of grognard, but that can be remedied pretty easily, can't it? ;)
I am not clicking that link. I am NOT clicking that link. Maybe I'll click that link. NO! I will NOT click that link. I will not...
I cannot do healthy human expressions of emotion. How do you expect me to be involved with production of a dating sim?
I cannot do healthy pigeon expressions of emotion. also, I hope you're reading that as hyu-mon, like a Ferengi
Yeah, that was good ol' Hakko Ichiu I think, of the best fucking thread in the history of all the internets. The Peng Challenge Thread. All my links has been lost in time, sadly.
Yes, Klamiti is, indeed, the impeccable Woo. We talked a little bit back when this place started rolling because I was tracking bans.
It's 4 am here, so I'll use this thread to note, that I'll be on a hiatus for at least the next 8 hours.
What is Sangry? Hmm, we could definitely work up a WW2 dating game featuring the bronzed bodies of the aryan übermensch and high grade military weaponry. Game success would hinge on a rivet-counter's knowledge of model and production numbers.
Feeling a bit crappy around here, but with more vibrancy. Did we install an air freshener, some fresh fruit on the table?
