A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
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April 19th, 2013 (10:39 AM).
Gone. May or may not return.
The Misspelled Cyrpt
> Come to think of it, doesn't the Spatchery resemble a pistol of some kind? I know it's a long-shot, but why don't you try loading 'er up with some of those bullets?
If by 'pistol' you mean 'eighteenth-century artillery piece', then yes. Yes it does.
You put a cartridge designed for a revolver into one of the barrels of the Spratchery. It sits there, small as a gnat in a cathedral.
Nope. No way in hell that thing's going to fire.
> Okay looked up the words ( /Title) It is the apparent secret of the universe multiple people have written down under the influence of hallucinogenics. So either it could be a red herring, maybe your whole word is a drag addled hallucination and your slowly learning the secret of the universe or it's a broader hint than I thought and I need to give it more thought.
Anyway try using the Spatchery at the Quilava see what it does to it. If it does something bad do it again, and if it does something good use it on yourself and vesta
You can't really get a good shot at the Quilava from here – and you don't want to, anyway. You're pretty sure that firing the Spratchery will just send half a kilo of small fish flying through the air to be flash-cooked in the Quilava's back-flames.
Why the Narrator ever gave you this thing is entirely beyond you.
> I honestly do not know what you should do. I would suggest making a raft but the thought of an entire ocean of Eldritch sea Pokemon terrifies me, not even to mention the city at the bottom. Freaking R'lyeh and Cthulu and all that. It's scary. And why would the Dreaming even affect Pokemon? I say take the time you have right now in relative safety to sit and think. Why do you have such a bizarre repertoire of information? Isnt it a little convenient you know so much about fish and the ocean and stuff and the creepy things that screwed up the Pokemon world are ocean-based? Take some time to ponder your situation.
It's very convenient. You could argue that you know all that because you're the Chosen One, the player character. You could argue that you know it because it was hard-coded into you at creation, just like that vague backstory was. You could even argue that you know it for reasons of narrative imperative, because let's face it no one wants to send you running around Johto looking for a library to look up species of eel.
Actually, where the hell are all the libraries in Johto? And the hospitals? And the schools? Christ, what the hell kind of country were they running before the Dreaming happened?
You rein yourself in; you're too tired to question reality right now. The sun is dipping in the sky, and the light is growing dimmer and redder; there'll be time enough for philosophy and action after you've had a sleep. Right now, you've just got enough energy to ponder, and hopefully to climb up onto the dock somehow so you can find somewhere to sleep.
Right, then. Pondering.
Why do you know all this stuff? There really only seems to be one answer: because someone wants you to. Whatever entity spawned you in New Bark spawned you with this information in your head. Therefore they wanted you to know it. Were they preparing you for what was to come? Quite possibly. That may be why certain information seems to unlock at certain points in your adventure – like scripted encounters, but in your head.
Wait, are your thoughts even making sense any more? You're not so sure they are. Is it you, or is it – actually, you realise in a moment of clarity, you're sitting on a soaking wet lump of concrete sticking out of a wind-tossed sea wearing a shredded, drenched evening dress that didn't cover much to begin with. That difficulty you're experiencing in thinking coherently is probably the onset of hypothermia.
Damn. You're really not a fan of this new realism module the Dreaming seems to have introduced.
The Thinking Man's Guide to Destroying the World
The Rocket Case
The Rocket Revival
Neither Here Nor There
Coriolanus Rowland's Guide to Pokémon Husbandry
Robin Goodfellow's Christmas Carol
Stranger Than Fiction
My Trip to the End of Time, by Pearl Gideon
A Smell of Petroleum Pervades Throughout
For information about A Grand Day Out, a bizarre short story in video game form, click
Joined Mar 2010
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