Accept that you are killing people. Don't forget them.

15 April 2015 @ 05:09 pm

042. [Text, and one other thing.]

[TEXT]

I've noticed that when people are asked the question of whether they would change any major events in their past, a prevalent answer seems to be "No, because everything that's happened to me and everything I've chosen to do have made me who I am today." Sometimes I find that position unbearably arrogant; who's to say that the person you could have been – as terrifying though that notion seems to be for most – wouldn't be an improvement on you are now?

Not all changes are for the better, but there's no reason to assume they'll be for the worse, either.

I hold to a general principle of not regretting anything I've done; that hasn't changed, even now. Just the same, that doesn't mean that sometimes I don't wonder what would have happened if I've chosen to do something different at critical junctures of my life, regardless of how pointless that practice actually is in reality.

The idea of seeking solidarity in such notions is also pointless, but I suppose today is good for indulging in things like that. If I have any questions to pose to the rest of you today – and I admit I didn't start this with that sort of thing in mind for once – I suppose what I want to know is whether you would change anything or not. What it is doesn't matter; I just want to know whether such doubts have crossed your mind before, whether you find it plausible or not.

At the very least those feathers from on high are good for one thing, and that's ensuring that such insipid thoughts aren't keeping me up at night; I've been sleeping surprisingly well since picking one up.

( Private message to Archer. )

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19 January 2015 @ 07:16 pm

040. [Text/Action for Route 34]

[TEXT]

As a former soldier, I've had to consider and handle the question of when it's considered acceptable to take another life. It's hardly a question here, since in this world life is incredibly well-protected and death is incredibly cheap; however, seeing as this place hasn't just dissolved into an anarchic killing spree, it seems that most of us still have a basic grasp on morality as we understand it and are of the basic consensus that "murder is bad."

I suppose my question then is where the line is, for most of the people here, and where the difference lies between murder and self-defense. There's the obvious understanding that if someone is trying to kill you, you likely won't just stand there and let them do it; you're probably going to defend yourself or even fight back, no matter how much of a pacifist you are.

But surely there are places where the criteria becomes a bit more difficult to discern...? Say that you have two people drowning in the ocean; there's a plank nearby that will support the weight of one of them. Without use of the plank, both people will surely die. Person A gets there first, but Person B shoves them off, saving themselves but causing Person A to drown in the process.

Was what Person B did murder? Probably. But they were also going to die if they didn't do it – isn't that just another form of self-defense?

What if Person A fought back and was able to hold their position? That's self-defense, in all probability – but they're also deliberately ensuring the death of another person. Is Person A a murderer for doing so?

Does it matter? Either way, a person is dead because someone else valued their own life more. A life is over and somehow I doubt whatever words the living use to make themselves feel better matter much to the deceased.

...I suppose now is when I apologize for the morbidity of the subject matter, although honestly it seems I can't let a year pass in which I don't ask some sort of horribly inappropriate question about murder. I suppose I'm just getting it out of the way early this year.

[ACTION]

[...And in contrast to that self-admitted horribly inappropriate question about murder, Kimblee actually is doing rather well today; if anything, he seems pleased that the weather has broken and it was above freezing for a few blessed moments today, since that means he can actually go outside and not spend most of his time shut in the base. It's large enough to keep him from getting too worked up, but it's still windowless and claustrophobic and if he can be outside, then dammit, he will be outside.

He's just outside Goldenrod today; he's up on Acasta.

It's been a while since he's done anything from up on top of the Steelix – travel is one thing, but battle is another entirely, and he's got some of his other high-leveled Pokémon out with him for the sake of satisfying that latter desire; Acasta's up against Carlisle right now, and from the look of it, it's not so much Kimblee's job to command as it is to not fall right the hell off. But his balance is good and his gaze is incredibly focused, and from the sound of it, he's having a grand time – he's laughing quite a bit, and it's cold and there's entirely too much ice around and he's done this before and it was a good time then, too.

He manages to jump down when a well-timed Earthquake finally takes Acasta out, ensuring that he's well clear of the steelsnake when it falls; apparently he's not having fun unless everyone stands a great chance of dying, and today isn't much of an exception. At least he'll be unoccupied with battle for a while as he spends a while seeking out a Revive that he has somewhere on his person; whether he's going back up later or just doesn't want to leave Acasta unconscious is a bit hard to say, but either way he's around for conversation.]

Tags: !ic, *action, *text, @armin arlert, @frank archer's utter lack of subtlety, @kaine, @ken kaneki, @rideaux, @schuldig, admittedly kind of asking for it, also acasta, also carlisle, archer's gonna kill him, because awesome that's why, being you guys is suffering, but is everyone mad about genocide, engaging in heresy, god is dead and my tl;dr has killed him, good ideas are clearly relative concepts, hell are you even, how edgy of you, itp: we discuss zombies, like a brick to the face, my social skills are flawless, my spinal cord is totally dancing rn, no sense of self-preservation, pokespe tactics (don't work well here), professor of fauxlosophy, sanity is so passé, stupidly dangerous battling tactics, surprisingly not plotting anyone's death, texting into the void, that may have been a bit insensitive, that wasn't morbid at all, this is gonna suck, this is really stupid, this skill is never going to be useful, tonight we're going hard, well that's needlessly sinister, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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22 December 2014 @ 03:12 pm

039. [Text]

One of the things I've always found admirable about humanity is their power to initiate change. Not just within themselves, either; that particular power includes the unique ability to instill change in other people – and for some, the world. It's always been rather appalling to me, that so many people would fail to understand how rare a gift that actually is: the actions of a single person have the potential to affect all of human society and leave their mark on the world, affecting and changing the course of the future itself.

It's a good amount of power that most people choose to do nothing with; it's a bit of a shame, really.

But whether we do anything with that power or not, we're all affected by it in some way; after all, the reason it exists at all is because people as individuals are volatile. We can change the world, and so it follows that the act of being in the world can also change us – whether through the actions of others who do choose to utilize that particular power, or just through the inconsistent nature of our surroundings. It follows the law of Equivalent Exchange rather well, I think.

Normally now is when I would suggest some sort of thought experiment to the network at large, probably morbid or inflammatory in nature, but I did promise someone that I would try not to be pointlessly negative for the sake of the holiday. Instead, my interest is elsewhere today – I want to know how this place has changed you. Positively or negatively, it matters very little to me; I'm just curious about what this place has given you, or perhaps what it's taken away.

Be as literal as you like, and as anonymous as you like; as usual with these sorts of things, your name interests me less than your answer.

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20 October 2014 @ 03:32 pm

037. [Text]

I come seeking discussion again today, which to most of you should probably be nothing new; if anything, I ought to apologize for it, but I suspect that will ring about as true as my usual apologies for the subject matter. For what it's worth, the subject is better than it usually is; take that as you will.

I'd like to discuss dreams today; I'm sure those that were here about a year ago know exactly why, but in the end that is neither here nor there, and you don't have to have experienced it to discuss this with me.

I'm sure we're all no strangers to very vivid dreams...? The sort that immerse you so entirely that they almost seem real...surely there are a few qualities here and there that mark them as dreams, but they're disregarded in favor of whatever is actually happening right in front of you. Dreams like that can hardly be said to be different from reality, can they? They invoke feelings within you; they encourage you to continue thinking about them long after you've awakened. You could even say that dreams like that have given you experiences that you might never have had, were you awake – you've gone on adventures and met people and done things that affected you, all while physically being asleep.

Say that there was a way to live like that forever.

Suppose that there's a machine that will put you under, rendering you solidly asleep and allowing you to experience whatever you want. The machine can simulate any pleasurable experience that you choose, instilling all the thoughts and feelings that would come with actually going out and doing those things for yourself in your waking life. There would be no pain or suffering; it would be an experience in pure bliss for as long as you were plugged into the machine.

Again, you could stay that way forever, if you so chose, living out the rest of your life in dreams, and it would be a pleasant experience that's custom-tailored to you. The only tradeoff is that you would be unconscious the entire time; the experience would be entirely in your mind, rather than anything you actually did.

Would you choose to go under and live the rest of your life happy but effectively comatose, or would you prefer to experience life for yourself, entirely awake, with all the imperfections and strife that may come with it?

You can answer me anonymously if you wish, because as usual, your identity doesn't interest me as much as your response does; if you really want to impress me, you'll tell me why you would answer as you did.

Tags: !ic, *text, @carmen sandiego (here she is), @carter blake: bff 5ever, @greed's poor life choices, @henry (fe:a), @isaac mcdougal: non-fail junior, @lancer (fsn), @micchy kureshima, @mimi tachikawa, @miss altava, @our future cobra commander overlord, @rideaux, @riku, @ryner lute, @snake (black butler), @tobias, being you guys is suffering, but is everyone mad about genocide, come at me bro, engaging in heresy, god is dead and my tl;dr has killed him, hell are you even, just thought he'd ask, like a brick to the face, look at your life; look at your choices, my social skills are flawless, professor of fauxlosophy, slacking off like hell, surprisingly not plotting anyone's death, texting into the void, that wasn't morbid at all, this is gonna suck, this is really stupid, today we are tranquil for once, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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03 September 2014 @ 07:18 pm

036. [Text/Action for Goldenrod City]

As grateful as I am that it's no longer raining animals down from on high, it's debatable whether this is much better.

[And there's a shot of the interior of a florist shop – one that's normally well-kept, from the look of it, though the "normally" is a bit marred today; it's not quite bull-in-a-china-shop level of disarray, but it's obvious someone's been going through the flowers with reckless abandon today.

Or, well, something, given that the next shot is showing the area behind the counter; that...well, that certainly is a pair of very young-looking and clearly sleepy goats back there, all folded in on themselves and solidly out cold.]

Don't misunderstand me, they're adorable, but they're making it somewhat difficult for me to work.

As for the more important matters, for those who care: I'm in Goldenrod City for the time being – are these things everywhere, or just here? And it's worth noting that, like with the cats and dogs from earlier, they're not anything I recognize, either.

[And Kimblee can be found in that florist shop for the better part of the day today, actually, if anyone wants to speak to him in person; this is apparently just something he's going to do with himself when he's not terrorizing the network. It's mundane work to be sure, but it's surprisingly calming; granted, if you ask him to arrange anything for you, it's likely going to be very passive-aggressive if he doesn't feel you're being creative enough in your requests, so tread lightly lest you hand your beloved something that translates to "SORRY ABOUT YOUR TASTE."]

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09 July 2014 @ 07:37 pm

035. [ANON TEXT]

[Well, good evening, network - it seems Seth's device is active again, though at the very least he's not inviting everyone to war like he's throwing the world's most unasked-for party this time around.]

You know, one of the things I've always found most fascinating about human morality is the idea that we're higher beings due to our natural inclination to put others before ourselves. It's generally accepted in society that we should be willing to sacrifice ourselves before harming another; I've always found adhering to that sort of notion to both vaguely admirable and sickeningly saccharine. If you must kill one to save another, that's still a life that's lost; why shouldn't the reward go to the one who's willing to fight for it, rather than the one who did nothing to earn it but sit there in pious devotion to doing nothing wrong?

We claim superiority for suppressing our instincts to survive; if anything, I think that would put us lower than dogs, not above them. All this intelligence and no will to live; it's pitiful.

But then, I suppose my lack of understanding of these things is why I can't be considered one of you.

For the time being, however, say I were to humor you in discussion for a while. Do you think your will to fight to ensure your survival actually needs to be tested? Since I suspect the answer will overwhelmingly be "No," I have another pre-emptive question for the heroic types.

Is there anything outside of arrogance and so-called moral superiority that makes you say so?

[...O...kay that's really not any better but apparently, it's just that kind of night.

You know, full of misanthropy.

Because some nights are like that.]

Tags: !ic, **anonymous, *text, @carmen sandiego (here she is), @flynn, @greed's poor life choices, @hiccup haddock, @royce, @walter, admittedly kind of asking for it, being you guys is suffering, but is everyone mad about genocide, come at me bro, engaging in heresy, good ideas are clearly relative concepts, hell are you even, how edgy of you, i used to be hardcore, just thought he'd ask, kimblee is overstimulated, like a brick to the face, my logic is flawless, my social skills are flawless, no sense of self-preservation, professor of fauxlosophy, raid on the city knock out evil tusks, sanity is so passé, slacking off like hell, so fucking flawless, surprisingly not plotting anyone's death, texting into the void, that may have been a bit insensitive, that wasn't morbid at all, the greater internet fuckwad theory, this is really stupid, tonight we're going hard, well that's needlessly sinister, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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12 June 2014 @ 11:25 pm

034. [Text]

It's been explained to me before by a few people here that alternate worlds are simply a reality for them - that there are dimensions that supposedly run parallel to theirs, coexisting alongside them but not touching or crossing over at all, save by methods that are exceedingly difficult to master and control. Some of the Pokédex entries here seem to support this notion as well - there are mentions of things being able to tear open portals to parallel worlds and the like.

It's also come to my attention that a large amount of people here seem to share the same home world, just with different variations that may or may not be incredibly minor - a school in one world where it doesn't exist in another, a landmark that's slightly different, a renamed city, an event in history changing things ever-so-slightly such that one group of people exists or doesn't. It's not dissimilar to my own world's situation, when it's put that way - what happened with us is exactly that latter instance, actually, it's just that something diverged early on and as such things played out differently. However, it wasn't enough of a split to mean that some of us - myself, people I know, people I don't - don't exist in that other version of my world; we do, it's just that our lives and circumstances are different to account for the change.

If all of the above is true, then it makes me question - it's possible that all of our worlds are connected like that, even those that are drastically different, isn't it? If all worlds run parallel to one another, obviously no two are the same; there's been some sort of change that would warrant the separation in the first place. So if all worlds are variations on each other, those variations also have variations; isn't it possible that those worlds containing countries and races and abilities and practices that you've never heard of or dreamed possible are just further out from the source? Those are the worlds that have been filtered through more and more alternate scenarios until that particular set of circumstances was created.

Although if that's the case, then logically speaking, there should be one master world at the root of all of it - something that we can trace all of existence back to. I'm not saying that would be possible now, since for all we know that world is long dead; just the same, perhaps that world is what chooses us - what decides that we're the fortunate ones, the ones that have withstood the general test of being run through multiple scenarios and circumstances and not been killed or weeded out in the process.

It really is rude of me to make people sit through all of this, but it's something I've given a lot of thought to in the past, and it's been coming up time and again recently, so I thought I would revisit it. I've always found the notion that we were all born because some higher power decided we, specifically, needed to exist to fulfill a certain role in life to be farfetched and hackneyed; in my experience, God doesn't care what you do with yourself, as long as you're not upsetting the natural balance of the world. But I've always maintained that those who change the world have been chosen by the world in some way or another.

Who knows? What with proof that alternate worlds like this exist, maybe I'm right.

Tags: !ic, *text, accidental sacrilege all up in this post, because awesome that's why, being you guys is suffering, engaging in heresy, god is dead and my tl;dr has killed him, hell are you even, kimblee is overstimulated, my logic is flawless, my social skills are flawless, professor of fauxlosophy, slacking off like hell, texting into the void, that may have been a bit insensitive, this is really stupid, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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29 May 2014 @ 07:34 pm

03x. [Action - Fourth Wall Event]

[A. Olivine City, outdoors.]

[Well, while usually at this point in the festivities the hills would be alive with the sound of shit gratuitously blowing up, it seems that Kimblee has found something else with which to occupy his time.

An...obnoxious, mulleted, poorly-dressed something.

The guy admittedly looks a fair amount like him in the face, except the eyes are decidedly wrong and he looks younger by a good amount; he's wearing a really poorly-fitting Amestrian military uniform, and judging by the way he that generally appears to give so few fucks that it ought to be criminal he doesn't seem too wigged out by suddenly being somewhere he's not supposed to be.

It seems he's done this before.

Of course, Kimblee himself has standing orders to kill this guy should the opportunity arise, and he fully plans on acting on those as soon as he's done doing...whatever it is they're doing outside of this café on this lovely Thursday afternoon; granted, he doesn't seem like he's in too much of a hurry to do it right now, especially since they have exactly one knife between the two of them and the moron with the mullet currently has possession of it. Kimblee currently has his left hand splayed out on the table, watching whatever this other guy is doing with it; he looks like he's stabbing something over and over again.

Upon closer inspection, it seems that knife is darting in and out from between Kimblee's fingers; it seems that they have an obscenely fast two-player version of the Knife Game going, and Kimblee seems way too fascinated by a game including the prospect of this guy possibly missing and stabbing him in the hand, and when the guy he's with finishes off the round he simply passes the knife across the table and sets his own left hand down, splaying his fingers out to let Kimblee have a go.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we don't allow weapons in Route. Idiots bond over them.]

[B. Just about anywhere.]

[...of course, that isn't going to last long, and for the rest of the weekend the hills are going to be alive with the sound of shit gratuitously blowing up. But hey, this time they're blowing up to the general tune of science.

It seems Kimblee has found a few errant shards of crystal; upon discovering that they do...well, a lot of nothing to actually power his alchemy up (because you never know), he's doing the next logical thing and infusing them with energy just to see what's going to happen.

The crystals absorb that odd blue energy from his hand easily enough; it's what happens next that's a bit alarming - at a distance it looks like they just sit there for a while, but at a bit closer range it's obvious that that energy is just bouncing around inside the gem, becoming more and more volatile the longer it's allowed to do so, and beyond a certain point...well, it's hard to say because Kimblee promptly throws it with great force, and as soon as it's gone it explodes in all its magnificent crystal-shrapnel glory.

...He's got a couple of small cuts on his face from when he threw one of those shards straight up; needless to say, he's not doing that anymore, though he doesn't seem to mind the blood. We throw outwards, not up, clearly.]

[OOC: The idiot in question in scenario A is Kimblee's 2003 counterpart, who's sort of a hot mess; if you want to yell at one of them in particular, specify which and the mulleted wonder will be replying from

alchemicals.

Otherwise, the second scenario can be literally wherever you want him - happy fourth-wall, everyone!]

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13 May 2014 @ 09:23 am

033. [Text]

The standard example of existential anguish is said to be standing on the edge of a cliff or other high place; there inevitably comes a moment in most self-aware individuals where they experience the realization that not only do they fear falling to their death, but there's nothing stopping them from throwing themselves off. I've always found it strange that a moment of experiencing true freedom like that would be considered distressing rather than a relief; knowing that there's nothing holding me back - that I am in full control of my own choices, whether it's to stand perfectly still or throw myself off - and there is nothing pre-written into whatever it is that I am that will dictate what I do either way is something I've always found calming.

It begs the question, however - do we choose our fears, and more importantly, do we choose how we respond to them?

If nothing is predetermined and everything about our lives comes down to choice, it makes sense to me that our fears also have to come down to choice, whether consciously or not. The part I'm not entirely sure of is the response.

For example, if one is attacked by some sort of animal, it makes sense that one would fear that animal. However, the response to animal attacks tend to vary - some will try to minimize their contact with that sort of animal as much as they can, while others will immerse themselves in it and attempt to desensitize themselves. Is there a particular thing that predetermines what choice a person is going to make?

I'm curious about your thoughts on it; you don't have to detail what fears you have and how you handle them, though if you would like to that might be helpful. I'm more interested in whether you think this sort of thing comes down to ingrained personality - something more inherent, I suppose - or personal choice, and whether such a thing can be changed.

Answer me anonymously if you wish; as always, your response is of more interest to me than your identity, and quite frankly I'm not in the mood to judge either way.

(As for the existential anguish, I've found over the years that I get the greatest satisfaction from neither the thought of staying put, nor the thought of throwing myself off - I've always enjoyed the notion that if I stand on the edge long enough, perhaps someone will act on their compulsion to put their hands against my back and shove.)

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08 April 2014 @ 08:35 pm

032. [Text]

[...and it seems it's time for another round of Horribly Inappropriate Questions, with your host: This Asshole.]

You know, a while ago I posited to the network that this world is based around battle culture – admittedly a softer, watered-down version of it, but battle culture nonetheless. One's power is assumed based on the strength of their personal army; one's social status is determined by how many gym leaders they've managed to defeat, or how easily they can crush those who stand in the way of what they want. It's interesting to me that such a society should likewise be based around a message of love, peace and tolerance; one would think that for the sheer amount of destruction that everyone's carrying around within arm's distance, this place would have dissolved into anarchy long ago.

Equally interesting is the stance on war that most seem to have taken here; even the locals seem opposed to it, overall. I have to wonder why – what it is about this place in particular that makes the idea of war and conflict so abhorrent to all within it.

Ah, but it's entirely likely that it's a matter of points of view, isn't it? I'm from a militaristic society, personally, so war and conflict seem to be the natural state of things – are most nations generally pacifistic like this? Or is this abnormal even by your standards as one of the..."foreigners", I believe they like to call us?

I'm interested in answers, though I can take or leave identities; answer anonymously if you wish, but even if you don't, you know what they say about glass houses.

[...You know, there are some things that never change. Yes, Kimblee, everyone here probably does get mad about genocide; either way, happy birthday, you crazy son of a bitch. If this is how you're going to spend this evening, you are more than welcome to do so.]

Tags: !ic, *text, @bertholdt fubar: sweet summer child, @carmen sandiego (here she is), @greed's poor life choices, @walter, admittedly kind of asking for it, being you guys is suffering, but is everyone mad about genocide, engaging in heresy, god is dead and my tl;dr has killed him, hell are you even, how edgy of you, i used to be hardcore, just thought he'd ask, kimblee please stop helping, like a brick to the face, look at your life; look at your choices, my social skills are flawless, professor of fauxlosophy, slacking off like hell, surprisingly not plotting anyone's death, texting into the void, that may have been a bit insensitive, that wasn't morbid at all, this is gonna suck, this is really stupid, today we are tranquil for once, well that's needlessly sinister, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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03 March 2014 @ 03:21 pm

031. [Text]

You know, I've realized that whenever I address the network nowadays, I always include some sort of apology for the morbidity of the subject matter; the subject matter is never any better the next time around, which I think just draws the validity of the apology into question by now. Ah, but that's neither here nor there - the subject today is still, however, not any better, so consider the apology this afternoon as genuine as it always is.

[In other words, sorry-not-sorry. Kimblee...]

I would like to discuss morality today, actually - perhaps befittingly, since there are so many morally dubious individuals around as of late.

Assume for a moment that you come across someone in peril; you're in a secluded area, and no one else is around to help this individual but you. The specific sort of peril they're in doesn't matter, but for the sake of argument, assume that it's something that you can handle easily - assume that assisting them won't kill you, and even if the situation you envision is dangerous you can call the authorities for help and that would be considered "assisting" for the sake of this experiment. For whatever reason, the person in peril cannot save themselves; if you don't do anything, the situation will prove fatal for the person you've come across.

No one will know if you help the person or not. You won't be punished or penalized in any way for not helping them - in other words, you have no legal obligation to do so - but if you don't, the person in peril is going to die. You've never met the person before this moment; there's nothing about their appearance or situation that implies that you should consider them an enemy, but they aren't explicitly a friend or an ally either. Just a random stranger that you are given the option of rescuing.

Most would probably agree that rescuing a person in peril like that is the "right" thing to do; I'm sure some would disagree, either because their beliefs are a bit unorthodox or because they want to feel edgy. So my question isn't necessarily what you believe - my question is why. Can you justify it, or are you just operating under "what feels right"?

Answer me anonymously if you'd like; as usual, your identity doesn't necessarily interest me, but your answer does.

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03 February 2014 @ 10:58 am

030. [Anon Text + Images.]

[Well, good afternoon, network - it's been a few months since this particular device has been active. There's an ID assigned to it, of course; those familiar with Team Rocket's activities in the past may recognize it as belonging to the individual calling himself Seth.

He's been inactive lately, as far as crime goes; that doesn't mean he hasn't been busy.

Today's message comes with a few lines of text and an attachment; the text is definitely deliberate, to say the least.]

What does this world mean to you? Do you think it's something worth protecting, or would you rather sit on the sidelines and watch it burn? This place is more than sunshine and Pokémon battles. If given the choice to make a difference, would you take it?

[As usual, there's a set of photos attached to the message; the first few show a desk in a nondescript room, covered in various mechanical things - those who are familiar with incendiary devices and triggers in your world will likely recognize them. The rest?

Those are bombs. A lot of bombs.

The last two are the usual shot of the Rocket member in question, in full Team uniform and shot from about chest-level, keeping his face and other defining features out of the shot. He's not holding anything stolen this time around; rather, it's one of those white cards that he's used to deliver messages before, the words written on it scrawled out in thick, blocky lettering as though someone had gone over the words repeatedly, obscuring any sort of distinctive handwriting for the sake of making it far less identifiable.

LET'S HAVE A WAR.

The final shot is similar to the first; only the card has changed.

OLIVINE CITY.

YOU HAVE THREE DAYS.]

Tags: !ic, **anonymous, *text, @carmen sandiego (here she is), @carter blake: bff 5ever, @envy, @geddoe, @jade harley, @jinguji ren, @joker (black butler), @kayneth archibald e-rank luck, @madoka kaname, @our future cobra commander overlord, @riku, @roxy lalonde, @ryner lute, @snake (metal gear), @tenten, being you guys is suffering, come at me bro, engaging in heresy, everything's exploding and nothing hurts, good ideas are clearly relative concepts, he's come undone, how edgy of you, just thought he'd warn you, kimblee is overstimulated, like a brick to the face, look at your life; look at your choices, my tiny violin tho, no kill like overkill, no sense of self-preservation, one-man army, raid on the city knock out evil tusks, sanity is so passé, the greater internet fuckwad theory, this is gonna suck, this is really stupid, tonight we're going hard, took a level in exploding things, well that's needlessly sinister, why we can't have nice things, with apologies to carmen sandiego

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27 November 2013 @ 04:55 pm

02x. [Action - Fourth Wall Event]

[It's been a surprisingly explosion-free few days.

It's not that Kimblee doesn't enjoy having his alchemy back, as he certainly does. However, he doesn't have a proper outlet for it (..."proper") and there's that battle recently, odd and dreamlike and just kind of hovering on the outer edges of his memory - he suspects it wasn't quite a dream and there's been more than enough evidence to back that up, but really, there's not much to be done about it.

So he's restless as hell. Restless as hell is never a good thing.

Today he's got Ayanami out with him, and they appear to be exchanging blows; whether encouraging this with something that's actively tried to kill him in the past is a good idea or not is apparently of no consequence to him today, since he seems to be having a grand old time either way - the shocks she's sending at him are being countered with sharp snaps of his hands coming together and whips of energy detonating in midair when they connect with the electricity, and the explosions are loud and he isn't flinching at them in the least, and the look in his eyes is getting manic.]

Again - come now, you can do better than that!

[That's about the point when Ayanami decides to prove that she can, in fact, do better than that; she waits until the next time he fires off one of those explosive currents and promptly Mirror Coats him, and he's suddenly very, very grateful that getting kicked out of Johto for a month and a half seems to have done wonders for his spine because holy shit, nothing like having an explosion rebounded at you for double the damage, getting the hell out of the way is probably prudent.

But then the air clears and Kimblee is laughing like this is the greatest damn thing he's ever seen, and he's looking a bit of a mess but hey, at least he's happy, even if he's probably deaf as hell after that - ]

That's more like it; absolutely beautiful!

[...right. Well, either way, he doesn't seem to mind.]

[OOC: He can be run into just about anywhere because Johto is, as usual for these things, completely on the blink; he's going to be a bit...um, excited no matter where you happen to run into him because yay alchemy, but you are more than welcome to put him where you want him - he'll be ending up in Goldenrod after the event, however, so he'll definitely be there at some point!]

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19 June 2013 @ 12:42 pm

025. [Text/Action for the Rocket base in Goldenrod City]

[TEXT]

[It's been something of a long day, really, though Kimblee really can't say why - there have been frustrations, surely, but nothing more than what he's accustomed to dealing with on a daily basis.

That said, however, there have still been frustrations. Whether he wants to deal with them or not. Right now there's currently a very large frustration that's been locked up in his closet again, just because the damn thing has neither psychic powers nor hands and it's taken to zapping the Pokéballs out of his grasp when he tries to recall it. Hopefully neither he nor Archer will need anything in that closet anytime soon, because this is just getting ridiculous...]

For those of you who have experience dealing with more...ah, difficult companions, how would you recommend dealing with them? Mind you, I'm not talking finicky, I'm talking about nigh-on homicidal; is there a way to repair one's relationship with them when it's that far gone, or should I just not even bother?

[Not that he knows what to do if the answer is "don't bother" because he suspects releasing a microchipped starter will go over like complete and utter hell, but that is beside the point.]

[ACTION]

[Kimblee isn't straying far from the base today; if anything, he's taken to holing himself up harder into it when he's not dealing with his psychopath of an Electrode. Letting the damn thing evolve had been a mistake; between that and all the other issues that he's very decidedly not wanting to discuss with anyone, he's more than happy to just shut himself in one of the training rooms and set it up to his liking.

Admittedly, the thing looks less like a proper training facility and more like the world's most suicidal parkour-based obstacle course; anyone who comes in to see what on earth's going on in here today may take a moment to find him, but that's likely because they just aren't looking high enough - he's settled on one of the world's most precariously-positioned ledges near the damn ceiling, legs crossed at the knee, and he's taking a moment to get his breath from whatever it was he was just doing.

Yes, he's still wearing the three-piece suit, complete with gloves, though his tie has come undone somewhat and his collar is slipping open; if you can get him to come the hell down from his position (and he'll be easily convinced, if he notices you) it'll become plain quickly enough that there are bandages wrapped around his throat, though there isn't any blood on them.

He seems pretty keyed-up there, though; outside of the vaguely unkempt appearance of his clothing, he's shaking somewhat and those two loose strands of hair at the front have been joined by a few others that have slipped loose from that long ponytail. His gaze is pretty manic-looking, though not to the point of looking like he'll bite anyone's face off just yet; at least there's that to be thankful for.]

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09 May 2013 @ 11:51 am

02X - Reintro. [Text/Locked Audio to the Rocket Frequency]

[TEXT]

[Well! Those of you on the network today will be greeted by a bit of audio late this morning, from a device ID that's been bouncing back all attempts at contact for the last several weeks.]

...Oh, that's cute.

[...well, if that wasn't the most triumphant return ever, I don't know what is.

At the very least, however, he seems to get over whatever he's almost audibly linefacing at long enough to realize that the device is recording something; he promptly switches the thing over to text - he's never really liked talking at the machine when he's addressing all of Johto.]

My, it seems this place does still have its sense of humor, doesn't it? And here I thought that perhaps I'd only lost three days at worst - it was a bit of a surprise to find out otherwise.

Ah, but that's neither here nor there, is it?

[Kimblee, hon.]

There's not much to report from home, unfortunately; however, it'll be a pleasure getting in contact with all of you again - hopefully you've all been at least reasonably well.

[Oh, well. At least he doesn't seem too off-put by the whole disappearing-for-a-month-and-a-half thing?]

[PRIVATE AUDIO - TEAM ROCKET FREQUENCY]

[...At least, not until the audio message that goes out over the private Rocket network a few minutes later; Kimblee's voice is cold and clipped, and the amiable "tone" from the text earlier is completely absent.

He has no idea if he still holds his rank or not; he suspects he doesn't. Like hell if he won't throw it around anyway. He's a bit displeased at his life basically being a .gif from Community, and he's going to figure out what in the good hell is going on if it kills him.]

This is Team Rocket Beta Solf J Kimblee, reporting back in for duty; to my superiors, I admit that I don't know what happened, but I assure you that it won't happen again.

To the rest of you - check in with me immediately, particularly if you're one of my subordinates. I'm receiving a lot of "ID Not Found" nonsense, and I need to know who's still present; given that and various things that I've had to hear about secondhand, I expect a full report regarding what happened here from someone, I'm not feeling particularly choosy right now.

New members to the organization - welcome to it, and you have my personal apologies for the disarray. For now, you're welcome to introduce yourselves; it'll serve you well to know that I'm good to those who are good to me. Again, prove yourself useful and you'll be rewarded.

None of this is a request. Allow me to make that much clear.

[...oh dear. Well. At least he's not in much position to actually do anything at the moment - this is Team Rocket we're talking about, and if somebody's on the network very vocally overstating their importance and/or competence, that means it's pretty much a day ending in Y.]

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08 March 2013 @ 11:42 am

023. [Anonymous Text + Images/Video]

[An anonymous text will be going out to the network today; the ID is consistent with the one that usually sends out things along these lines from Seth.

Surprisingly (and lbr, probably refreshingly), there aren't any images of Seth's "work" prefacing the text; it simply gets to the point.]

It's been a year since we first met. As predicted, I'm still doing just fine. Those who stated I would be caught before the year mark have officially failed in their task.

But as I've said before, I like to level the playing field a bit once in a while. It keeps things interesting for me. And since people in this place tend to like their anniversaries, I thought I would celebrate mine with an invitation for you.

I'm in Goldenrod City for the next week. If you want a battle, you're more than welcome to it.

I have eyes all over the city. Set up a trap for me and I'll know. But meet me as my equal and you'll be rewarded.

No tricks. No lies. Just battle.

Contact me and we'll see what can be arranged.

[The text is punctuated with an image, taken in what appears to be a mostly-dark meeting room; the focus of the picture is on a set of six Ultra Balls, shining dimly from what little light is illuminating the room. Visible behind the table they're set on is what's clearly a Team Rocket member, visible from the upper chest to about his hips; he's leaning against the table, gloved hands braced on either side of the set of Ultra Balls, and as usual, the red R insignia on his shirt is able to be seen easily enough.

The second attachment is a brief video. Though his face is still out of the shot, the Rocket in question seems to have seated himself behind that table; the Ultra Balls are still displayed in front of him, but a white card is obscuring some of them, pinned between two of his fingers. The card is handwritten in thick, blocky lettering, as though they've been written over repeatedly, obscuring the handwriting and making them less identifiable.

MY NAME IS SETH. A YEAR AGO TODAY, I BEGAN MY WORK.

AND I KNOW SOME OF YOU HAVE WANTED TO MEET ME IN PERSON.

He turns the card over slowly; there are two words written on the back, in the same style as the front.

ANY CHALLENGERS?]

[OOC]

[If there are any takers when it comes to this challenge of Kimblee's, there will be a log set up later this week to accommodate all your battling needs! This post is for the sake of arranging such things, should anyone be interested in trying to throttle the bastard. This isn't a plot so much as it is a post in two parts, so to speak.]

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15 February 2013 @ 11:51 pm

022. [Text]

With matters of one's heart and soul so close in mind, due to the recent holiday and all the romantic connotations therein, I ask that you forgive the possibly morbid nature of the question I have for you tonight:

The state or condition of one's soul is often brought into question when their deeds are brought to light or held up for scrutiny; the concept of the damned and those destined for salvation aren't new concepts by far. However, I have to ask what that means for all of you - do you accept your soul as existing only as a metaphysical concept, a matter of faith, something unproven and intangible? Or is it something undeniable where you come from, not a matter of faith but rather proven to exist? Does it fail to exist for you at all?

Or, perhaps, is it something else entirely - something that was rendered from one of the above options into another?

I suppose I should apologize for such heavy subject matter; I imagine some will find it rude to attempt to quantify such a thing. However, it's been something I've had reason to consider lately, so no apology is forthcoming.

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22 January 2013 @ 09:57 pm

021. [Anonymous Text + Images/Locked Audio - Rocket Frequency]

[ANONYMOUS TEXT + IMAGES]

[Kimblee hasn't been back in Goldenrod City for very long; he's well aware of the attack on the Tower, however - his contacts here have made him very aware of that.

He's well aware that he shouldn't do anything rash; however, his pride does have quite the tendency to get involved in decisions where it really has no goddamn business being, and as such, an anonymous text goes out over the network.

Seth's clearly making a reappearance tonight.]

It seems some of you have been enjoying yourselves lately.

[There's no clarification regarding exactly what he's talking about; however, there are, as usual, pictures accompanying the text.

The first is par for the course, as Seth goes; a set of six Pokéballs held in gloved hands, on chest-level with the person holding them - his face isn't visible, but the red R insignia on his uniform clearly is, even in the dim light of the room.

The next three photographs are decidedly more straightforward, in terms of what he's trying to get across; each image contains two Pokémon in heavy, reinforced cages set up in front of a black backdrop of some sort - birds, all of them. They seem alive, though "unharmed" is a bit of a stretch; they seem to have been roughed up quite a bit.

More text, clearly continuing on from the first line.]

So have I.

[One more image follows, similar to the first - though instead of Pokéballs clasped in his hands, he has a white card pinned between his index and middle fingers, the words written on it scrawled out in thick, blocky lettering as though someone had gone over the words repeatedly, obscuring any sort of distinctive handwriting for the sake of making them far less identifiable.

TELL FALKNER THAT SETH SAYS HELLO.]

( Locked to the Team Rocket frequency. )

Tags: !ic, **anonymous, *audio, *text, @apollo: a father to his mon, @carmen sandiego (here she is), @chase young, @crow hogan, @demon sisters, @dimitri allen, @dist the rose (take him seriously), @dr kato (hopefully not in a dress), @ilya: partner in kittyface, @jinguji ren, @kayneth archibald e-rank luck, @king logan's ttly awesome people skills, @lightning farron, @lust, @momo hinamori, @obito uchiha's therapy no jutsu, @our future cobra commander overlord, @philip, @raven, @raz, @rommy, @saber the blue, @tsukiyomi ikuto, @wreck-it ralph: real johtan hero, all the juniors. all of them, because awesome that's why, being you guys is suffering, come at me bro, engaging in heresy, good ideas are clearly relative concepts, how edgy of you, i am superior, kimblee please stop helping, like a brick to the face, my social skills are flawless, no one in tr can communicate for shit, no sense of self-preservation, raid on the city knock out evil tusks, the greater internet fuckwad theory, this is gonna suck, this is really stupid, two-person assault team, well that's needlessly sinister, why we can't have nice things

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26 October 2012 @ 04:30 pm

019. [Text/Action for Mahogany Town, and one other thing.]

[TEXT]

Does anyone know if the hideous creatures permeating this region of late are deceased humans, deceased Pokémon, or some ungodly combination of both?

It's nothing I had ever given thought to before, nor will your answer affect my thoughts on them. I'm merely curious about what it is that I'm repeatedly destroying, and whether I have something unfortunate to look forward to if this place decides that I'm the lucky person who dies on a permanent level out here.

[ACTION]

[Well, a very brief time after that text hits the network, it seems Kimblee has escaped whatever Ghost-free location he was in before.

Kimblee hasn't taken kindly to the ghosts here; he never has, really, and the fact that they're now in the cities isn't doing anything to help with that little issue. However, he's also never taken kindly to the idea that he simply can't do something, or the knowledge that some things are simply beyond his physical and mental boundaries, and it seems that today he's finally reached something of a breaking point.

He has Dorian out with him today, as well as Ramsay; he's loaded the latter with TMs, taking full advantage of the fact that Absols can learn Damn Near Everything. Kimblee himself seems to have decided that he has absolutely no fucks left to give; people in the general vicinity of Mahogany Town this evening may notice a figure dressed in white wandering through the fog, looking vaguely like one of the undead himself. His motions are tightly controlled, the orders he's giving his Pokémon clipped and tense; he's also trying to act like every time he comes across one of the Ghost-types everywhere he doesn't promptly flail a little and overkill the hell out of the poor level 20s with Fire Blast from a level 100 Fire-type.

He seems...determined (it's just a very skittish sort of determined, okay) to find and destroy every damn ghost in this town, judging from the flames everywhere; the local ghost population likely has no idea what it did to have quite this much hell rained down on it, but there certainly is a lot of hell going on here, goddamn.

...he really doesn't like ghosts, okay. At least they can't be harmed with Explosion, else this would be much, much worse.]

[PRIVATE TEXT TO EMMY ALTAVA]

Miss Altava,

I apologize for the abruptness of the message, but I need to speak to you immediately; get in contact with me, if you can?

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03 September 2012 @ 08:47 pm

016. [Anonymous Text + Images]

[And tonight, with no fanfare, a text hits the network. Completely anonymous, as always; those who have done their homework would recognize the 'Gear number as the one ascribed to the device that's been showing off several other attacks that have been broadcast to the network.]

Good evening, Johto.

The last few times we've spoken have been a bit unbalanced, wouldn't you agree?

[Ah, there are the pictures. Still images from the attack on the square in front of the Goldenrod Department Store, along with a few other images - the attack on the Kimono Girls and against a few random civilians, the Goldenrod Pokémon Center being destroyed. Little unpleasantries like that. Scroll past them and the text will pick back up, don't worry.]

You've told me so much about yourselves, during those attacks. I've gotten to know several of you quite well, actually.

For the time being, I would like to even the playing field a little. It will keep things interesting, I think.

From the time that you contact me onward, you have an hour to ask me anything you like. I can't guarantee you'll like or be satisfied with the answers, but it'll be better than nothing, I imagine; anything is up for discussion, short of my current location.

And don't worry - I'll introduce myself, just to spare you some time.

[There's one more image after the text ends; it's the sort of picture that usually closes out these transmissions to the network - a shot of the Rocket agent in question from the chest down to about the waist. The room behind him is dark, though it appears to be a meeting room of some sort, if you squint; the Rocket insignia emblazoned across his shirt is clearly visible above his hands, which are obscured by the pale gloves that come with the uniform. Instead of the usual Pokéballs clasped in his hands, however, there's a white card with a few words written on it in thick, blocky writing, as though someone had written the letters and gone over them repeatedly, rendering them unidentifiable through handwriting alone. The words are highly visible, standing out against the stark, glaring white of the card in the flash of the camera:

MY NAME IS SETH.

PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.]

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