PILOT: THINGS I LIKETHE TINY TAG ON MY INSIDE FOLD OF MY JACKET SAYS "SG CHRISTOPHORUS HATCHENSON".
THAT DOESN'T SOUND LIKE SOMEONE I LIKE.
MAYBE I KILLED THEM FOR THIS JACKET.
THIS JACKET IS SOFT AND FITTING.
I AM PILOT. CAPTAIN CALLS ME PILOT, SO I MUST BE PILOT.
I FLY THINGS. I FLEW THE CAPTAIN ONCE ON A MISSION OF GREAT IMPORTANCE. WE HAD A SKY-ACCIDENT.
CAPTAIN SAVED MY LIFE FROM THE BURNING CARCASS OF THE FLYING COW.
CAPTAIN IS MAGIC, LIKE HARRY POTTER BUT MORE MAGIC.
CAPTAIN CAN STOP CLOCKS, I KNOW BECAUSE I'VE SEEN IT. THE COW'S CLOCKS AND DIALS FROZE IN PLACE WHEN CAPTAIN GAVE THEM A STERN LOOK.
THE MIRACLES OF CAPTAIN ARE INFINITE AND GREAT.
CAPTAIN LIVES FOREVER. I HAVE PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE.
THE CITY OF THE DEAD IS MY HOME.
THE DEAD LIKE TO PLAY GAMES AND TALK TO ME,
Charles snippy: TRANSFERENTRY: 377:Charles snippy: TRANSFER4 years ago in Personal More Like This
For several months of torture, the Directorate kept me in their offices, making me file paperwork on their "test subjects", all while I kept sending applications to the "Dead Zone tourism" branch, to get away from towering cubes of the Directorate, away from cities and transmitter towers that were slowly frying my brain.
Centuries of industrial pollution were inevitably changing the biosphere of our world and the Directorate knew it better than anyone, yet they did nothing to stop it, profit had to be maximized, production had to be increased, customers had to be satisfied. Holes in the ozone layer, irreversible changes in the atmosphere, radioactive fallout, wild-life mutations, the days growing darker and the sky turning black - none of this mattered to them.
These changes must have been so gradual that no single generation was able to protest it.
Everyone was happily, playfully, and joyfully ignoring the world outside o
Charles Snippy: DreamsEntry 382:Charles Snippy: Dreams4 years ago in Personal More Like This
My personal online psychiatrist is making me narrate this nonsense down on the chip embedded in my tooth in hopes that someday I may be cured of my "incompatibility" with ANNET, or at least possibly reduce the "mild psychosis caused by work-related stress" as she calls it.
I know that it's not going to happen. The problem is something genetic and while those goons in the genetics department would love to get their machines into my brain, I prefer the lack of sleep and headaches to lobotomy.
I seen the reports on their test subjects: "total neural shut-down", "subject resists integration with the net, increasing the signal strength lead to damage to the 85% of the frontal lobe."
Call me old fashioned, but I like my brain the way it is.
I've had that day-dream again. Day-mare is more likely.
A flash-mare? Not sure what to call these, really.
The transmitter towers dotting this bloody city are making my life difficult, but not as difficult as the fact that everyone expects me t
SNIPPY: REMEMBERANCES OF THE PAST DAYOctober something, something.SNIPPY: REMEMBERANCES OF THE PAST DAY4 years ago in Personal More Like This
Today captain declared as "REMEMBERANCES OF THE PAST DAY".
The day begun with me getting smacked with a broken laptop and yells "YOU'VE GOT MAIL!".
I tried to protest that laptops weren't attacking people in the mornings back in the past. To this, Captain declared that in fact they didn't have to, because users were so addicted to reading their daily mail facts that every morning they woke up smacking their heads on their laptops.
Then my head was treated to a barrage of empty, metal SPAM cans with words "SPAM MAIL! DODGE THE SPAM! USE FILTERS!".
With these words, captain gave me two old tennis rackets. The tennis rackets had yellow duck-tape stickers on them with words "DELETE" and "BLOCK EMAIL ADDRESS".
The spam can attack didn't end there, Pilot's job for today was hiding behind building ruins and throwing the spam cans at me at random intervals with yells of "INCREASE YOUR GENITAL SIZE!", "RUSSIAN BRIDE LOVES YOU" and "I AM NIGERIAN PRINCE WITH 56 BILL
Biomass 117: DISCONNECTED AVATAROn StArDaTe 230387455652769 A TrIaL Has CoMmeNcEd, To EvaLuAte ThE LoSs oF InVaDer UnIoN Ship 4920-938Biomass 117: DISCONNECTED AVATAR4 years ago in Personal More Like This
It WaS DiScoVeRed ThEn,
ThAt ThE SiNgULaRitY KnoWn As CaPtaIn ComiTtED A SeRieS of CriMeS AgAiNsT The UniOn.
AnD So, By ThE OrDeR Of ThE InVaDeRs UniOn,
We WeRe SuMmOneD AnD
To ThiS WoRlD On ThE TeTrA-ViRuS SeEdS.
To InFeCt aNd To UnItE AlL LiViNg LoCaL MulTiCeLlULaRs As BiOMaSs 117, The MoSt UnStoPpaBLe aNd FaIr JuDgE oF AlL.
LifE alwAys fInDs a wAy.
WhilE wE scAnNed the
Pilot: SHOEDEAR SHOE,Pilot: SHOE4 years ago in Personal More Like This
THAT'S RIGHT YOU ARE A SHOE.
THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT NOT BEING A SHOE BECAUSE IN MY MIND YOU ARE ONE AND THAT IS MOST UNFORTUNATE.
AS LONG AS I HAVE YOU CONCEPTUALIZED AS A SHOE IN MY IMAGINATION YOU SHALL REMAIN AS SUCH.
THIS MAKES ME WONDER WHETHER ALL PEOPLES AND OBJECTS CAN BE CONCEPTUALIZED AS SHOES AND THUS BECOME SUCH, GRANTING ME ABSOLUTE POWER OVER THEM. DOES SNIPPY HAVE A CLEVER ARGUMENT? NO HE DOESN'T, HE'S A SHOE. SHOES CAN'T HAVE CLEVER ARGUMENTS.
I FEEL LIKE THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD HAS BEEN LIFTED OFF MY SHOULDERS NOW THAT EVERYTHING IS UNDER MY CONTROL, NOW THAT YOU ARE ALL SHOES. I NO LONGER HAVE TO ANSWER TO MY REGRETS AND PAST MISTAKES BECAUSE THEY ARE SIMPLY SHOES.
I WAS EVEN ABLE TO PAINT PHOTOSHOP IN PURPLE COLOR (TO PLEASE CAPTAIN) AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN PUT UP A PROPER FIGHT BECAUSE I IMAGINED HER AS A SHOE.
MAYBE I CAN IMAGINE THE
ENGIE: PROTOCOL 1-1-3Zee Captain's note of summons had sealed my fate.ENGIE: PROTOCOL 1-1-34 years ago in Personal More Like This
I felt a cold pull at my stomach. Something else was coming, re-awakened by the presence of Captain.
Something worse than the shuffling noises of the red beasts outside. The sound of falling cannonball.
Whatever that fleshy monstrosity was, it cared not for me, but it's presence here led ANNIE straight to me.
...And it came to pass on the morrow, that the goddess in the machine came upon me and she wanted vengeance.
She was online, the thermonuclear bombardment of the core databank cube had failed to shut her down.
She was still alive, after all these years.
The explosive crash-landing of the hunter machine through the old roof drew THEIR attention.
I was now between two wild beasts, out for my blood.
What was Protocol 1-1-3?
Memories of Directorate weapon codes lingered in my mind, poisoning my thought pattern.
Could it be?
...So this was to be my death.
ANNIE had let me know that she
SNIPPY: FLYING DAYENTRY 3647:SNIPPY: FLYING DAY4 years ago in Personal More Like This
November something something.
I've got to come up with a better system for telling what day it is. Maybe I could scrawl numbers on the back of my shoe? Nah, that sounds like something silly that Pilot would do.
I'm currently carrying a calendar that says 2012 on it, but I am pretty sure that these days aren't correct anyway to our year and Captain keeps scribbling things in the margins whenever I get distracted enough for the calendar to be snatched out of my hands. I found the calendar more or less intact and it's kinda impressive that it lasted from way back in 2012. It must have held some sort of personal importance to it's owner to seal it away in a plastic container with words "the Mayans were wrong, trust no-one!"
I've been trying to keep track of how old I am, but I keep forgetting to check off every day in the calendar or maybe captain is messing off with me by erasing my checkmarks.
Something tells me I shouldn't be telling Captain about my birthday anyway. I would
Charles Snippy: COFFEESENTRY: 412:Charles Snippy: COFFEES4 years ago in Personal More Like This
This evening, I returned to into the City to fill out the reports about my first tour out into the Dead Zone.
Hopefully, they won't suddenly shut down the D.Z.T.R. Department and there will be more tours for me to "guide".
Today... was different.
A buzzing, hovering Hunter-Drone met me in the Airlock.
Must be a new thing.
Ah I see,
As I'm forever unable to access ANNET, someone up top must have programmed this contraption to follow me around, shouting things at me.
Thank you, whoever you are.
I never felt more ridiculous.
To top things off, I lost my coffee.
BIOMASS 117: DELAYSDeLays, wE WeRe DeLaYeD.BIOMASS 117: DELAYS3 years ago in Personal More Like This
It Is MoSt StAnGe. OuR AvAtArS CoUlD noT fOcUs On CaPtAiN. ThEy CoUlD NoT CatCh It.
...It Has WaNdeReD OfF InTo ThE DeAD CiTy.
ThIs TrIaL Is A MoCkeRy WhEn ThE AcCcusEd CaN JuSt WaLK OfF.
ZeE CaPtAiN MuSt HaVe A WeAkNeSs, SoMeWheRe In ThE MeMoRy oF tHeSe ProPerTieS.
It WaS DiFfiCulT To TrAcK dOwN AlL InStaNcEs Of CaPtAin.
SoMeThiNg WaS InTeRfERiNg WiTh ThE ScAn.
SoMeThiNg ThaT DiD NoT BeLoNg iN ThE PaSt.
SoMeThiNg ThAt KePt MeDdLiNg WiTh EvErYtHiNg.
A WeApOn oF PoWer GrEaTeR ThaN tHe FuRnAcE Of ThE StArS.
An EmISsArY oF DeAtH, HiDdEn iN PlaIn SiGht.
BuT WhY? WhY DoEs DeAtH ItSeLf PrOtEcT tHe AcCuSeD?
We ToOk ToO LoNg. We AsSuMeD tHiS WoRlD wAs InAcTivE.
It WaS NoT.
The BiOmASs oF ThoUSaNdS CaNnoT NoT CoMpeTe WiTh A pLaNeTaRy DeFeNcE NeTwOrK iN PoSeSsiOn Of OrBiTaL IoN CaNnOns...
ThE UnIoN MuSt KnOw.
ThEy WiLl NoT Be PleAseD wItH OuR fAiLuRe.
Engie: awakeI felt scorching heat and vibrating pain.Engie: awake3 years ago in Personal More Like This
There was an endless buzz in my ears of massive shell-shock.
Crunching noise of the ground.
For a brief second I saw tiny mushrooms and flowers under me, but they quickly disintegrated into dust.
Impossible. Shock-Hallucinations. I haven't seen grass in so many years.
Crawl forward. Away. Away from the heat.
Farther. Come on Alex. Get up. Walk.
Something was wrong. I wasn't supposed to be alive.
...Ion Cannon interrupts all electronic impulses, no matter how small, effectively scrambling, disrupting all neural activity and shuts down the brain.
Sure, the walls of the little house protected me from the flames of ruptured atmosphere, but how is my mind still active?
Only one thing could have protected me. Something which could bend all known laws of physics at it pleased.
Could it be? The note?!
Could Seven's luck actually transfer onto others?
If this is true, then Seven could be the key to my
SNIPPY: die pilot dieIf a Pilot falls dead in the radioactive, frozen wasteland and there is no one around to hear it....do you think Captain would find out it was me?SNIPPY: die pilot die4 years ago in Personal More Like This
Allright. The rage has consumed me entirely too much.
What can I do to relax?
THE HORRIBLE LIFE OF SNIPPY!THE HORRIBLE LIFE OF SNIPPY!4 years ago in Personal More Like This
ROMANTICALLY APOCALYPTIC EPIC CONTEST 02 TIME!
SUBMIT A DEVIATION ABOUT "THE HORRIBLE LIFE OF MR SNIPPY" IN WHATEVER MEDIUM YOU ARE EXCELLENT AT!
Send me a note with a link to it, for review!
Bonus points for using a unique medium to craft the submission: (paper cutout, cake, photography, drawing with finger on foggy glass, etc)
If you can't think of a "horrible" situation, you can always draw a sad portrait of snippy.
JOURNAL FEATURES FOR ALL SUBMISSIONS!
SELECTED FINALISTS WIN SUPERFEATURES:
They will be submitted to my gallery with links to your page!
DEVIATION WITH THE MOST FAVS/CHOSEN BY A POLL WINS:
-AN AWESOME COLLECTION OF RA POSTERS!
-COLLAB ON OFFICIAL RA EPISODE
STUFF ALREADY SUBMITTED:
Devious Journal EntryGood ol' alexiuss has been using my computer all day and forgot to log out of his DA account, so this is him getting trolled.Devious Journal Entry3 years ago in Personal More Like This
With love, Humon.
AMBER SNIPPY'S FATE?I've had that dream again.AMBER SNIPPY'S FATE?3 years ago in Personal More Like This
That strange place, so distant, yet so close to my heart. Buildings as tall as mountains.
Dead structures, watching with dead eyes. Empty, vast and endless honeycombs of stone and steel. Air filled with gray ashes, always fluttering from the cloudy sky.
The black vortex opens up in the sky, descending down to the city. The vortex spiral rips the city apart, bending the air itself, feasting on light, feasting on time.
There is a lonely figure standing in the street.
No matter how hard I try to make out his or her expression, I cannot. Is there no face there at all? Or perhaps there is a million human faces there, intertwined and flickering in unison, as bright as the light of ten thousand suns?
The being stares into the abyss of the vortex.
It takes another step towards it, into the horizon of nothingness, into a place where nothing can exist.
The stones of the roadway beneath its feet crumble and flutter in t