Personification Life IC IX - [Semi Open]

[Swith Witherward]

"Isn't she dead though?" Brandon asked, upon hearing Swith saying that they were the guests of Char!Swith. He didn't get the whole idea of this, or even if this was still real. It seemed like a big version of the OOC, except that they were actually in the town of their IC, and they were all a whole hell of a lot more confused.

"I mean, we shouldn't even be here, right?" He asked. While he'd make any effort to avoid human interaction besides in front of a computer screen, Brandon was quite anxious about this.

He just started to hope the Drones didn't decide to attack now or something of that nature.

"What if we die here?' he asked suddenly.

"We'd have a really shitty time trying to visit your grave if you died here. I suppose we could find our way back and just pitch your body into your front yard, but I guess it would all be down to exactly how you died here. A bullet through the brain would be plausible, but being mauled by an Eldritch abomination would be really difficult to explain."

Trice was being facetious, sort of. She'd actually mulled over the same thing several times. "Just... no one die."

There were two vacant chairs, which worked out perfectly for her and James, but her butt was no sooner in one than she was standing up again and leaning over to hug her fellow horror fan, Prim. At least, it had to be Prim. Ren was Japanese and Warpy probably didn't sport the grimdark look.

"Hiya Prim," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks for not killing Naomi. Oh, and it's me, Swith. Call me Treechey. Have you met everyone here or should we do a round of introductions again?"

She settled back down next to James and surveyed the table. There were a lot of creative minds here, and even more were due to walk in the door. She was pretty confident that they'd find answers if they put their heads together.

[The Carlisle]

Remmy looked over to Trice. "So does that mean our meal is covere?" she said, "Sweet. Don't have to use my birthday money or beg my mum. Wait, can't do those things anyways." She sighed. She looked at the fair-looking sever which was at their table. "I think I'll start with some tea. Do you serve chamomile here?" she said.

[Fvaarniimar]

Fvaar murmuring a "Thanks" to Tilt, exited the door and tried to pick the previous conversation back up. "I dunno. How we got here that is. Perhaps one of the gods sucked us in. Perhaps PL really does only exist in our imaginations and some sort of balance got upset." She sighed, realizing that she wasn't actually making any sense. "I mean, well, um, it could be something that exists in our combined imaginations... Anyway, moving on. If PL actually is the tenth dimension and ours is below it, maybe we just got pulled up somehow. Of course, that leads to the question of how we could appear to be controlling it, which implies that there's some recursivity or however you'd say it..." She trailed off.

"That makes no sense, either it is in a lower dimension that we inadvertently control, or we are being manipulated by higher dimensional beings. I doubt it is the other way around, then again I think everything is possible." PXM said, repeating his mutterings from earlier. As he saw Brit faceplant into the table, he slid over the five he found. "Here, have it." He offered, hoping it would help.

Leaning in, Fvaar dropped her voice to a whisper; tipping off a bunch of elderitch abominations or whatever the demons and their masters were that their group, which had the advantage of consisting entirely of apparently normal people who easily could merely be from a nearby city, or, failing that, be international tourists, was from quite a ways away just didn't seem smart. Especially as they were kinda having them pick up the tab.

"Why couldn't it be a loop, though? Universe A- Bielefield- has some control over universe Ba, universe Bb... And so on until we get down to our universe, which, perhaps in concert with all the others on its level, exercises some control over 'Universe A.' Of course, I don't understand how the...omniverse is structured, and I'm probably way off." Hearing Remmy's question, she interjected, "Speaking of which, I'd like an orange juice. Can you do that?"

[The BranRiech]

"So . . . This is the reality then?"

He didn't know how else to put it. "Basically, if we die here, we won't just wake up in the real world again?" Brandon reasoned. He wasn't too eager to try it, and assumed everyone else wouldn't be chomping at the bit to see either. "Nevermind, forget that." He sighed, slinking back in his chair a bit as he pondered, eyes, again, looking everywhere except the eyes of his comrades. Eye contact was a no-no, it just felt . . . Awkward? Yeah, awkward. He couldn't tell why, but it was just how he'd grown up.

"I don't see this whole mess as a catastrophic one though." He addressed everyone, mostly himself though. "But I do want to go home."

Looking to Remmy, he grinned, and decided to try the most expensive thing on the menu just to see.

[Primordial Luxa]

"Isn't she dead though?" Brandon asked, upon hearing Swith saying that they were the guests of Char!Swith. He didn't get the whole idea of this, or even if this was still real. It seemed like a big version of the OOC, except that they were actually in the town of their IC, and they were all a whole hell of a lot more confused.

"I mean, we shouldn't even be here, right?" He asked. While he'd make any effort to avoid human interaction besides in front of a computer screen, Brandon was quite anxious about this.

He just started to hope the Drones didn't decide to attack now or something of that nature.

"What if we die here?' he asked suddenly.

"We'd have a really shitty time trying to visit your grave if you died here. I suppose we could find our way back and just pitch your body into your front yard, but I guess it would all be down to exactly how you died here. A bullet through the brain would be plausible, but being mauled by an Eldritch abomination would be really difficult to explain."

Trice was being facetious, sort of. She'd actually mulled over the same thing several times. "Just... no one die."

There were two vacant chairs, which worked out perfectly for her and James, but her butt was no sooner in one than she was standing up again and leaning over to hug her fellow horror fan, Prim. At least, it had to be Prim. Ren was Japanese and Warpy probably didn't sport the grimdark look.

"Hiya Prim," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks for not killing Naomi. Oh, and it's me, Swith. Call me Treechey. Have you met everyone here or should we do a round of introductions again?"

She settled back down next to James and surveyed the table. There were a lot of creative minds here, and even more were due to walk in the door. She was pretty confident that they'd find answers if they put their heads together.

He paused a few moments before returning the hug. "Uh sure thing. I would never dream of hurting her though. Oh um sure thing" He said while mouthing the word Treechey it was unusual and he liked the way it felt. "No its fine I recognize enough of you, im sure ill pick up as we go along." He said tentatively still slightly on edge, "So how have you been? I havent been able to chat with you on the OOC much lately"

Prim stops a moment to speak in Brans direction "Its probably a dream. I think." before tuning back to swith Treechey.

[Erucia]

"Learn the ways of the world. If someone's not around to provide proof otherwise, you can call yourself Leung Ka-Fai, Bran."

Tilt reclined, bottle of Carib in hand, against the seat, which was leaned back on two legs. He'd taken a break from the conversation with Fvaar and Pixem to check out what was happening around him.

With a somewhat awkward look on Temmo's face, he grabbed a seat over at the table. The look was easily attributed to his feeling that everyone else here seemed to know exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and that he felt rather out-of-place: this wasn't what he'd been expecting, and a whole slew of different things were making him feel consistently uncomfortable here. He should have been relishing in all of it, but he couldn't help but wish that it was on better grounds. Like having all of his things.

"But...I think that there is some point to what Bran's been saying, or at least, something related to it. What happens if we're stuck here? Like, for good?", he proposed to Tilt, the hint of worry seeping through his voice. "I apologize that if I seem like I'm-....Well, I mean that I'm just worried is all. You guys seem to have a clue of what you're doing, and you're taking all of this with a swig of rainbow.

"Look, I'm just complaining. Don't pay mind to me," he finally added on to it, seemingly at the last minute. It obviously wasn't what he wanted.

[Swith Witherward]

Remmy looked over to Trice. "So does that mean our meal is covere?" she said, "Sweet. Don't have to use my birthday money or beg my mum. Wait, can't do those things anyways." She sighed. She looked at the fair-looking sever which was at their table. "I think I'll start with some tea. Do you serve chamomile here?" she said.

"The meal is covered. There's not a single one of our characters who doesn't grab the occasional free meal here," Trice explained. "I wrote that into the game back in the day so I wouldn't have to dick around with IC posts or keep people stalled while a bill was prepared. That's also why 'Charumati's guests' still works, if you're wondering."

The server indicated that they did in fact serve that tea, and then bustled off to get everyone's drinks.

"You'll find," Trice added, "that some of the things you've all added here are still here, if my guess is right. Bran's pet shop. Temmo's gun shop. Tilt's Chinese restaurant, and even PXM's restaurant. We should have access to that stuff if you built in any sort of buzzwords. I'm not going to go into Swith's lair. I don't think we should venture into Prim's device. We should be wary of Bones' apartment. We're not our characters. The one thing I'm not seeing are cultists. That's bad news. It means that we have a bunch of NPCs but a large chunk of the infrastructure has been torn out simply because I'm here and Ren's here. In other words, if shit hits the fan and we were invaded by Moon Nazis, we're no better off than the NPCs, only those are usually brought back to life. I think, if my suspicions are correct, that we wouldn't be so lucky. You see, Bones, Tilt, Ren and I built in failsafes to restore NPCs. We never thought we'd have to restore players. Likewise, Ren and I can't do any of the things our cultists or gods can do. Ren tried to jump into a sink drain earlier and nearly knocked himself unconscious."

She accepted her glass of buttermilk and the servers passed around the other drinks.

"We're here for some reason. Possibly to fix something or to do something. O.C. Demons is a Greater Being but his control only extends to the Building, which is a part of him. Yeah, we live inside a god. Anyway, it's in our best interest to figure out what our purpose is. Also, notice how I never ordered buttermilk? They brought it to me. My characters don't drink buttermilk. I think we're either starting to become tuned to Bielefeld... slowly merging with it... or else it's becoming tuned to us. After all, how many of you hadn't already placed your orders, yet you have your preferred drinks in front of you now."

Trice drew a deep breath. "Ren and I have a shit ton of failsafes built in. But keep in mind that something is running this game. No, it's not any of you. It might not be any of the CoOPs or the OPs. It's bound to be something else. Still, be on guard. Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again."

[Morlodania]

James was more than unsettled by the dying comment. He had always feared death... But knowing even the relatively small amount he knew about this world meant... Death would be easy... He looked over to Trice, and sighed. "I'd say I'll do my best at not dying... But with my luck... I'll be the only one to die, and I'll die rather painfully... Given that I know nothing about this world... And have no way to defend myself... And given my luck, some random monster from beyond space will show up and eat my skull." He shrugged, being his regular, highly morbid self. He took one of the two empty chairs, again falling silent, and sat uneasily there, watching everyone around the table with suspicion. Honestly, he didn't really TRUST anyone here... Especially given the incredible danger this world presented. He had one of his usual unshakable feelings, those feelings that made him say he was psychic... As they were almost never wrong. He... Felt doomed... And he didn't like it. He shuddered slightly, trying to shake the feeling, and sat there, looking constantly more nervous. This was going to be a very bad day... James took his drink, and silently wondered if he could get any of the fictional drinks he had written for his own characters here... A Fox's Fire would really hit the spot right now, since he knew exactly what it tasted like, having invented it and all.

[Tiltjuice]

"So . . . This is the reality then?"

He didn't know how else to put it. "Basically, if we die here, we won't just wake up in the real world again?" Brandon reasoned. He wasn't too eager to try it, and assumed everyone else wouldn't be chomping at the bit to see either. "Nevermind, forget that." He sighed, slinking back in his chair a bit as he pondered, eyes, again, looking everywhere except the eyes of his comrades. Eye contact was a no-no, it just felt . . . Awkward? Yeah, awkward. He couldn't tell why, but it was just how he'd grown up.

"I don't see this whole mess as a catastrophic one though." He addressed everyone, mostly himself though. "But I do want to go home."

Looking to Remmy, he grinned, and decided to try the most expensive thing on the menu just to see.

"Death and taxes, Cactus Man. Death and taxes." Tilt tilted the beer bottle in Bran's direction, then back toward himself and took a drink. "Besides, this crazy world is dreamt up by Tricky and run by Angus. Who, need I remind you, loves killing characters. Still and all, there are far less unique ways to go. We're trailblazers."

He set the bottle down and folded his arms. "Think of this, though, more like The Thirteenth Floor, if you've seen that movie and it helps you feel any better."

With a somewhat awkward look on Temmo's face, he grabbed a seat over at the table. The look was easily attributed to his feeling that everyone else here seemed to know exactly what to do, exactly what to say, and that he felt rather out-of-place: this wasn't what he'd been expecting, and a whole slew of different things were making him feel consistently uncomfortable here. He should have been relishing in all of it, but he couldn't help but wish that it was on better grounds. Like having all of his things.

"But...I think that there is some point to what Bran's been saying, or at least, something related to it. What happens if we're stuck here? Like, for good?", he proposed to Tilt, the hint of worry seeping through his voice. "I apologize that if I seem like I'm-....Well, I mean that I'm just worried is all. You guys seem to have a clue of what you're doing, and you're taking all of this with a swig of rainbow.

"Look, I'm just complaining. Don't pay mind to me," he finally added on to it, seemingly at the last minute. It obviously wasn't what he wanted.

"That's ironic." Tilt threw Eru-blob a sardonic grin. "If we're stuck here, we're stuck here. Worrying about it ain't gonna do you anything except make you sweat."

[Trice drew a deep breath. "Ren and I have a shit ton of failsafes built in. But keep in mind that something is running this game. No, it's not any of you. It might not be any of the CoOPs or the OPs. It's bound to be something else. Still, be on guard. Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again."

"Tricky's right, actually. After all, CreepFest happened. Plus I don't know what all kinds of weird things have happened to you all, but I suppose this is a good time to mention I've experienced memory blackouts before."

James was more than unsettled by the dying comment. He had always feared death... But knowing even the relatively small amount he knew about this world meant... Death would be easy... He looked over to Trice, and sighed. "I'd say I'll do my best at not dying... But with my luck... I'll be the only one to die, and I'll die rather painfully... Given that I know nothing about this world... And have no way to defend myself... And given my luck, some random monster from beyond space will show up and eat my skull." He shrugged, being his regular, highly morbid self. He took one of the two empty chairs, again falling silent, and sat uneasily there, watching everyone around the table with suspicion. Honestly, he didn't really TRUST anyone here... Especially given the incredible danger this world presented. He had one of his usual unshakable feelings, those feelings that made him say he was psychic... As they were almost never wrong. He... Felt doomed... And he didn't like it. He shuddered slightly, trying to shake the feeling, and sat there, looking constantly more nervous. This was going to be a very bad day... James took his drink, and silently wondered if he could get any of the fictional drinks he had written for his own characters here... A Fox's Fire would really hit the spot right now, since he knew exactly what it tasted like, having invented it and all.

He stared straight at James and, out of nowhere, broke into badly rendered song.

"It's been a long road, gettin' from here to there; it's been a long night, but our time is finally HERE!"

[Erucia]

"The meal is covered. There's not a single one of our characters who doesn't grab the occasional free meal here," Trice explained. "I wrote that into the game back in the day so I wouldn't have to dick around with IC posts or keep people stalled while a bill was prepared. That's also why 'Charumati's guests' still works, if you're wondering."

The server indicated that they did in fact serve that tea, and then bustled off to get everyone's drinks.

"You'll find," Trice added, "that some of the things you've all added here are still here, if my guess is right. Bran's pet shop. Temmo's gun shop. Tilt's Chinese restaurant, and even PXM's restaurant. We should have access to that stuff if you built in any sort of buzzwords. I'm not going to go into Swith's lair. I don't think we should venture into Prim's device. We should be wary of Bones' apartment. We're not our characters. The one thing I'm not seeing are cultists. That's bad news. It means that we have a bunch of NPCs but a large chunk of the infrastructure has been torn out simply because I'm here and Ren's here. In other words, if shit hits the fan and we were invaded by Moon Nazis, we're no better off than the NPCs, only those are usually brought back to life. I think, if my suspicions are correct, that we wouldn't be so lucky. You see, Bones, Tilt, Ren and I built in failsafes to restore NPCs. We never thought we'd have to restore players. Likewise, Ren and I can't do any of the things our cultists or gods can do. Ren tried to jump into a sink drain earlier and nearly knocked himself unconscious."

She accepted her glass of buttermilk and the servers pass around the other ordered drinks.

"We're here for some reason. Possibly to fix something or to do something. O.C. Demons is a Greater Being but his control only extends to the Building, which is a part of him. Yeah, we live inside a god. Anyway, it's in our best interest to figure out what our purpose is. Also, notice how I never ordered buttermilk? They brought it to me. My characters don't drink buttermilk. I think we're either starting to become tuned to Bielefeld... slowly merging with it... or else it's becoming tuned to us. After all, how many of you had already placed your orders, yet you have your preferred drinks in front of you now."

Trice drew a deep breath. "Ren and I have a shit ton of failsafes built in. But keep in mind that something is running this game. No, it's not any of you. It might not be any of the CoOPs or the OPs. It's bound to be something else. Still, be on guard. Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again."

Listening in to Swith, Temmo's thoughts were grabbed from what he'd stated and instead sucked into her explanations. He thought that the way she explained and spoke was an incredibly charismatic, calming, and authoritative method: thus, it was enough to lessen his worries for a few moments. Emphasis on "a few moments".

"Wait...'Something else', like that one god from the RP? What was his name? 'Bane'?", he blurted out. "Don't we have any control over what's going on? I mean, we helped create and foster this world: I would imagine that we could find a way to keep shaping it." His tone changed vividly, from questioning to demanding reassurance. "You're Swith: your an OP for this world, isn't there a way that at least you can shape this world?"

His gaze transferred to the Coke that now sat in front of him, and he let out a heavy blast of air that blew the straw to the other side of the glass. Tilt's statement came in, and thus Temmo chose to take a sip from the drink. The flavor was fresh, sharp, and familiar.

"...Well, if we're not going to worry, then can we start to think like our characters? Like, get suited up, or geared up, or something?"

[Primordial Luxa]

[Trice drew a deep breath. "Ren and I have a shit ton of failsafes built in. But keep in mind that something is running this game. No, it's not any of you. It might not be any of the CoOPs or the OPs. It's bound to be something else. Still, be on guard. Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again."

"Tricky's right, actually. After all, CreepFest happened. Plus I don't know what all kinds of weird things have happened to you all, but I suppose this is a good time to mention I've experienced memory blackouts before."

Prim nodded. He naturally honed in on the higher levels of conversation as a habit and so when the more importance instruction were being given out he listened. "Maybe we should hide someplace until this all goes away? Until we wake up we should go somewhere safe and just chill until we wake up or something...maybeI dont know"

[The Carlisle]

Remmy took a few cubes of sugar and put it in her chamomile and then stirred it in with a tea spoon. When it was fully dissolved, she sniffed it and took a sip. She sighed, relaxed by the smooth and aromatic chamomile. Despite Trice's doomsdaic talk, Remmy looked at her with a calm expression. Tea did that to her.

"So if anything attacks, we're screwed. And we are not in control of anything here currently. Well, this day turned out grand," she said, "Let's just hope nothing terrible happens. Like the Ragnarok."

[The BranRiech]

Subconsciously, Brandon actually didn't notice the root beer placed in front of him, but still he drank it, nodding at Swith's words. What if they would be forever stuck in Bielefeld?

The thought scared him immensely. It'd be like being stuck in the Matrix, except without the robots, but thought-up creations populating the world. Were the players themselves even real? Would they all wake up when they went to bed, and be back home? It was a classic case of Brandon thinking too far into things, and he actually manahed to refrain from asking questions (He'd had a couple of them burning at him, like "What actually happened to the Allspice guards left behind for the Cultists?"). It was something he did.

Of course, thinking too far into things that could lead to your death was one thing, but now? It could actually happen.

"Why are we supposed to know what to do? My characters don't know much about the city, and . . . Well, I really never read the OOC much on it, and forgot anything useful, other than the Airport's name, and the street name the building is on." He chuckled nervously.

[Monfrox]

Brit looked up and put his head on his hand. "What are we gonna do now?" He said to no one in particular. He had a habit of talking to himself, but he didn't let it bother him. They always said talking to yourself was a sign of genius. He looked around. Most of the others were off with their own conversation. "Sir?" Brit's ears picked up the moniker that he had been called by enough times at the weekly CAP meetings to hear it anywhere. He looked to the left for the server. "Your order?" She asked.

"Or...der....OH! Sorry! I was...I uh...yeah, uhm. Ahem...yes, I'll have a....a root beer." Brit said, stumbling around the words until he found it on the menu.

"And to eat?"

"Uhhhh...fuck...sorry, I uhm....I guess I'll have some Mac and Cheese."

"Side?"

"No thank you."

"Just the mac?"

Brit nodded.

"Anything on it?"

"How about....some bacon and extra cheese?"

"Coming right up." The server said as she walked away.

Brit smirked. Mac and Cheese with bacon and extra cheese; Just like the cooks made for him at where he used to work. He sighed. He quickly became quite dull, as he was missing one of the important external pieces of himself: His iPod. He loved music. There wasn't anything else to do, really. Most everyone had been chatting with others, so he let them be. He was the quiet type. He kept to himself, and he didn't really aim to be the center of attention. He leaned back in his chair as he pulled his cover down over his eyes to keep the light out. Without his music, his mind raced trying to think of a million things at once to try and occupy it away from his ADD.

[Swith Witherward]

"Bane is one of my worries, Temmo," Trice replied. "There are others. For instance, we still have Allspice out there. We still have all the bad guys we've all created. Some are long dead because Ren got a case of the ass over them. But I'm not the IC OP. I'm the OOC OP. I teach over in that thread, when I'm not lazy. I build the world using people's suggestions. But I've forgotten more than even Ren's learned about it. It's all in a notebook on my desk. And if Ren, who is our overarching GM, can't go down a drain, it's safe to say that we can't use our character's abilities either. Have you ever given much thought to all the nuances of your helicopter? Can you actually fly it? If we don't have the skills, we can't really use it without endangering ourselves. And think about this: Atosh might be out there. He's a villain, not a PC. And Hastur. He's not a PC listed on an application, he's just an element that Prim brought in a few times. Prim's not in control of him. Sorry Prim. But, I'm also not in control of any of the Chaos gods either. Ren and I spoof them with avatars, but we don't change the actual gods' canon."

She sighed. "Hiding might be an option, Prim, but what if that means we continue to mesh here and never return. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to run around Bielefeld as some mortal, hypoglycemic chick with no powers and no cultists covering my ass. For one, I only have enough injections for two episodes. I never really created the hospitals to cover normal illnesses. What if the magitech doesn't work on us?"

[Fvaarniimar]

"We'd have a really shitty time trying to visit your grave if you died here. I suppose we could find our way back and just pitch your body into your front yard, but I guess it would all be down to exactly how you died here. A bullet through the brain would be plausible, but being mauled by an Eldritch abomination would be really difficult to explain."

Trice was being facetious, sort of. She'd actually mulled over the same thing several times. "Just... no one die."

There were two vacant chairs, which worked out perfectly for her and James, but her butt was no sooner in one than she was standing up again and leaning over to hug her fellow horror fan, Prim. At least, it had to be Prim. Ren was Japanese and Warpy probably didn't sport the grimdark look.

"Hiya Prim," she said as she wrapped her arms around him. "Thanks for not killing Naomi. Oh, and it's me, Swith. Call me Treechey. Have you met everyone here or should we do a round of introductions again?"

She settled back down next to James and surveyed the table. There were a lot of creative minds here, and even more were due to walk in the door. She was pretty confident that they'd find answers if they put their heads together.

He paused a few moments before returning the hug. "Uh sure thing. I would never dream of hurting her though. Oh um sure thing" He said while mouthing the word Treechey it was unusual and he liked the way it felt. "No its fine I recognize enough of you, im sure ill pick up as we go along." He said tentatively still slightly on edge, "So how have you been? I havent been able to chat with you on the OOC much lately"

Prim stops a moment to speak in Brans direction "Its probably a dream. I think." before tuning back to swith Treechey.

Fvaar shivered. She hadn't really thought about that possibility, but... Yeah, the risk was there. F***. Setting an arm on the table, the girl tried to switch her thoughts to more positive matters. Saying hello to Prim? If Aegis was any indication, a chat with him was unlikely to help.

However, the somewhat nervous chatter of the others helped. A lot. For one, it was nice to know that they weren't totally screwed; there were in fact failsafes. For another...

Swith had said, "Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again." Fvaar actually found that a bit reassuring. Weird shit had been a significant part of her life for... Well, at least three years. It had become something of a constant, and hadn't hurt her yet.

Of course, this was a different class altogether of weird shit.

...And then Tilt got random. Fvaar cracked up and joined in, voice leaping from alto to soprano to tenor.

As everyone started ordering, she frowned, looking at the menu. "I'll have an order of pancakes- no, two Belgian waffles-" Are those actually Belgian, anyway? "With bacon on the side, extra crispy. No butter."

"I know a bit about the city- I read a lot, and I have a good memory- but not a whole lot. Also... Is it possible that we could maybe influence this world by writing or something?

[Primordial Luxa]

"Bane is one of my worries, Temmo," Trice replied. "There are others. For instance, we still have Allspice out there. We still have all the bad guys we've all created. Some are long dead because Ren got a case of the ass over them. But I'm not the IC OP. I'm the OOC OP. I teach over in that thread, when I'm not lazy. I build the world using people's suggestions. But I've forgotten more than even Ren's learned about it. It's all in a notebook on my desk. And if Ren, who is our overarching GM, can't go down a drain, it's safe to say that we can't use our character's abilities either. Have you ever given much thought to all the nuances of your helicopter? Can you actually fly it? If we don't have the skills, we can't really use it without endangering ourselves. And think about this: Atosh might be out there. He's a villain, not a PC. And Hastur. He's not a PC listed on an application, he's just an element that Prim brought in a few times. Prim's not in control of him. Sorry Prim. But, I'm also not in control of any of the Chaos gods either. Ren and I spoof them with avatars, but we don't change the actual gods' canon."

She sighed. "Hiding might be an option, Prim, but what if that means we continue to mesh here and never return. I don't know about you, but I really don't want to run around Bielefeld as some mortal, hypoglycemic chick with no powers and no cultists covering my ass. For one, I only have enough injections for two episodes. I never really created the hospitals to cover normal illnesses. What if the magitech doesn't work on us?"

Prim shrugs at the mention of Hastur. He doubted that he would interfere it was very unlike any of the mythos deities to do anything but then again he wasn't entirely sure about the rules of this place. "Then we go to a different city. Think about it...I have enough stuff in that DEiMOS to make myself richer than anything I ever imagined. If this doesn't blow over their nothing stopping me from selling the various magitechs in the DEiMOS for trillions of dollars." he said coldly while leaning back "If worst come to worst and this is all real then its not so bad."

[The BranRiech]

"I'll take what's most expensive on the menu." Brandon grinned. It was a time where he had the chance to go all out. If he could get whatever he wanted, then he'd be a little explorative with it, and try the highest priced item on the menu.

He didn't know what that was exactly, but he ordered it.

Then, the teen turned to Tilt, and in a brilliant combination of 5 words starting with T, he spoke.

"Never heard of it. Why?" He asked.

Back to Trice. "Nope, just thought it'd be simple to control for someone with the lowest amount of training possible. It's how I like to envision my nation." He shrugged. "I wouldn't be able to fly it. My characters are smarter than I, alas."

[Swith Witherward]

Fvaar shivered. She hadn't really thought about that possibility, but... Yeah, the risk was there. F***. Setting an arm on the table, the girl tried to switch her thoughts to more positive matters. Saying hello to Prim? If Aegis was any indication, a chat with him was unlikely to help.

However, the somewhat nervous chatter of the others helped. A lot. For one, it was nice to know that they weren't totally screwed; there were in fact failsafes. For another...

Swith had said, "Think back to all the weird shit that's happened to us. It's safe to assume those kinds of things can happen again." Fvaar actually found that a bit reassuring. Weird shit had been a significant part of her life for... Well, at least three years. It had become something of a constant, and hadn't hurt her yet.

Of course, this was a different class altogether of weird shit.

...And then Tilt got random. Fvaar cracked up and joined in, voice leaping from alto to soprano to tenor.

As everyone started ordering, she frowned, looking at the menu. "I'll have an order of pancakes- no, two Belgian waffles-" Are those actually Belgian, anyway? "With bacon on the side, extra crispy. No butter."

"I know a bit about the city- I read a lot, and I have a good memory- but not a whole lot. Also... Is it possible that we could maybe influence this world by writing or something?

"If I were to honestly guess? I'd say we'd have to enter the data onto Nation States. But there's a problem. I never wrote it as being part of this universe. Even if we did find a computer, it wouldn't find that website. It would find the ones we've created, of course, like some of NVE's stuff in-game. Gio's nation news website... from that stalled story?... that might still be there. But we don't exist as people in this universe. We don't have IDs. Except maybe Bran? Bran, did you once write about the tree in your front yard?"

[Erucia]

"If I were to honestly guess? I'd say we'd have to enter the data onto Nation States. But there's a problem. I never wrote it as being part of this universe. Even if we did find a computer, it wouldn't find that website. It would find the ones we've created, of course, like some of NVE's stuff in-game. Gio's nation news website... from that stalled story?... that might still be there. But we don't exist as people in this universe. We don't have IDs. Except maybe Bran? Bran, did you once write about the tree in your front yard?"

"Wait...If the things that we created are in this universe, does this mean that the portals to the other universes are available? There's most certainly, if that's the case, the concept of the Erucian universe existing. And that means that NationStates does exist," Temmo suddenly shot out. "Ray's computer! I wrote the lore so that his computer had access to the internet from my own universe, it's how he was able to order Erucian-timeline things.

"If that's the case, then we should be able to....well, get NS. I'm fairly sure that Ray's computer was still at its desk inside of the Three Tails." He felt rather proud of himself for this.

[ApertureScienceInc]

"That makes no sense, either it is in a lower dimension that we inadvertently control, or we are being manipulated by higher dimensional beings. I doubt it is the other way around, then again I think everything is possible." PXM said, repeating his mutterings from earlier. As he saw Brit faceplant into the table, he slid over the five he found. "Here, have it." He offered, hoping it would help.

Leaning in, Fvaar dropped her voice to a whisper; tipping off a bunch of elderitch abominations or whatever the demons and their masters were that their group, which had the advantage of consisting entirely of apparently normal people who easily could merely be from a nearby city, or, failing that, be international tourists, was from quite a ways away just didn't seem smart. Especially as they were kinda having them pick up the tab.

"Why couldn't it be a loop, though? Universe A- Bielefield- has some control over universe Ba, universe Bb... And so on until we get down to our universe, which, perhaps in concert with all the others on its level, exercises some control over 'Universe A.' Of course, I don't understand how the...omniverse is structured, and I'm probably way off." Hearing Remmy's question, she interjected, "Speaking of which, I'd like an orange juice. Can you do that?"

"Well, who is to say that isn't so? Sure the world we created could have influenced our imaginations to create it. Casuality as we understand it could be entirely meaningless, but we must start somewhere with what we know." PXM explained before he ordered a soda with the chicken fried steak. After hearing Trice explain the situation, a thought occured. "You know, the equipment I created is extremly user friendly, although dangerous, is powerful. If I could find Fortu's laser spanner, or NVE's Kill-o-zap pistol, or that portal gun. It is idiot-proof, and can deal with most threats. Although, they are all stored in the most dangerous locations." He commented, the enemies he created worried him, most could manipulate the mind into forgetting or ignoring them, and they were deadly. He knew that wearing a lab coat did not make him a real doctor, but his best strength was looking like he knew what he was doing.

[Morlodania]

James stayed silent throughout the conversation, and looked over to the waiter, attempting to order in ASL, as he didn't want to have to speak up. The waiter understood, though, and he managed to order his pancakes with sausage. He sighed slightly, his growing nervous feeling itching at his entire consciousness, and easily visible to anyone who even just glanced at him. He simply sat there in the chair, wishing he had some kind of book, or simply a corner to go hide in. The vast group of people only compounded the issue, and he felt... Trapped, between this group that was far too large for comfort, and his feeling of impending doom.

[The Carlisle]

Remmy took another sip of tea. She looked at the menu for anything good. She was thinking breakfast. "I'll have Swedish crepes with blueberries," she said to the server. She set the menu aside and looked to the others. "Get on a computer and write in stuff? Never thought about that. Though, thinking about that, you guys find it funny that we don't have any electronics devices, like Ipods?," she said, "You know, stuff that would allow us to access the site and 'write in' stuff?"

[Primordial Luxa]

"If I were to honestly guess? I'd say we'd have to enter the data onto Nation States. But there's a problem. I never wrote it as being part of this universe. Even if we did find a computer, it wouldn't find that website. It would find the ones we've created, of course, like some of NVE's stuff in-game. Gio's nation news website... from that stalled story?... that might still be there. But we don't exist as people in this universe. We don't have IDs. Except maybe Bran? Bran, did you once write about the tree in your front yard?"

And idea suddenly formed and Prim in true fashion decided to blurt it out over everyone else. "Wait, the DEiMOS can travel to alternate dimension. Im sure theirs one dimension where Nation States exists right? We could travel their change the things in this world and then come back. Right?"

[Swith Witherward]

"Wait...If the things that we created are in this universe, does this mean that the portals to the other universes are available? There's most certainly, if that's the case, the concept of the Erucian universe existing. And that means that NationStates does exist," Temmo suddenly shot out. "Ray's computer! I wrote the lore so that his computer had access to the internet from my own universe, it's how he was able to order Erucian-timeline things.

"If that's the case, then we should be able to....well, get NS. I'm fairly sure that Ray's computer was still at its desk inside of the Three Tails." He felt rather proud of himself for this.

"Who is going to control the portals? I don't have Swith's power. Plus, if we open one, we're not in control of whatever might be on the other side. What if it's Nifid? What if it's something else? What if we rip the fabric of the universe? And then, there's the fact that I can't recall you ever mentioning NS in the IC. I didn't write it into the world, in other words."