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Post by Kyle on Apr 1, 2013 16:04:58 GMT -5
I wouldn't mind making it a weekly event, either. In my opinion, having a new theme every fortnight just seems like too long. I mean, a drabble is only, what, 300-ish words average? Not exactly the kind of length that requires such a long period of time, is it?
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Post by Dashe on Apr 1, 2013 22:16:01 GMT -5
Alright, what the hey. I'll plop a new theme up on Thursday.
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Post by Loken on Apr 3, 2013 12:47:40 GMT -5
Title: Ambition Theme: Fire Wordcount: 211 Characters Involved: Barrell, Bluecher Rating: G Additional Notes: None
"Barrell, I was thinking we should get started soon!" Bluecher exclaimed as he joined his partner on the deck of their ship. "Hard to believe after all these years we're finally this close!" The scraggly young explorer, Barrell, stroked his hairy chin, chuckled, and questioned aloud "What are we thinking?! Going to such a dangerous island where no one's ever came back..." The two stared out into the sunny distance as snow began to sprinkle their rugged coats. "Now, Werner, are you sure you won't change your mind?" Barrell teased. "Are you still determined to make your fortune?" "Haha! You know better Barrell! It's too late to turn back now. I will find the Mother Lode, even if it takes my entire life!" Bluecher proclaimed. Barrell grabbed his dear friend by the shoulder and looked into his fiery eyes."Well what are we waiting for my friend?! I have mysteries to uncover!" Bluecher smiled. "And my fortune to find!" "I'll be going over my notes, then I'll fire up the engine and meet you on the bridge. Don't keep me waiting!" Said Barrel as he hurried down the ladder into the ship. "We are bound for greatness Barrell!" Bluecher called down the hatch. And so the two set off on their fateful voyage, burning with ambition.
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Post by Chiz on Apr 3, 2013 18:42:59 GMT -5
Title: Monkey-Lime Pie Theme: Fire Word Count: 226 Characters Involved: Rock, Roll, Data Rating: G
Additional Notes: I successfully made quiche over the weekend. It was delicious. Unfortunately this story is not quite about quiche, but the exploit still served as a scenario inspiration.
Rock & Roll looked at the tin dish Data had produced with heavy skepticism and concern. Data had been in the kitchen again, producing the evening’s dessert. Being forbidden from using the oven – or any source of heat, to say nothing of an open flame – had not deterred the energetic mechanical primate from a life of cookery. This time, he had proudly produced a key-lime pie.
Roll was the brave one at the table. She took a knife and carved a slice for herself. Upon lifting, a thick, yellow ooze flowed from the bottom of the piece back into the dish. She carefully placed the slice back down in the cavity. The egg had not been cooked. This was both reassuring – Data had kept his word in not using the oven – and telling that this particular creation, like so many others, was completely inedible.
It was only upon returning to the kitchen to finishing cooking the pie – rather, to start doing so – that horror set in. The floor was littered with egg shells, the walls were coated with a thick application of whipped cream and breadcrumbs, and the counter-top held 4 half-completed, failed attempts at the dessert. Perhaps a ban from the electric mixer was in order, or perhaps a ban on unsupervised cookery altogether.
At the very least, however, there wasn't a fire this time.
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Post by Loken on Apr 3, 2013 19:12:46 GMT -5
Great story Chiz! Bread crumb whip cream walls sound delicious actually. When Roll lifted the slice and then put it back down I literally laughed out loud.
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Post by Dashe on Apr 4, 2013 14:24:35 GMT -5
Alright! Everything's caught up! Loken - Nice, a young Bluecher and Barrell drabble! Chiz - Congrats on being the first MMLSer of this generation to submit multiple drabbles during the same theme. And on bringing on the funny. I recommend banning Data from cooking unsupervised altogether. Anyway, it's Thursday and the new theme is up. This week we're going with Help. Ready, set, write!
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Post by Kyle on Apr 4, 2013 15:49:52 GMT -5
Title: Be Careful What You Wish For Theme: Help Wordcount: 532 (I'm sorry!) Characters Involved: Roll Casket, Tron Bonne Rating: G Additional Notes: Once again, the wordcount is unable to contain my attempts at making a drabble. Oh well, what can I do?
Tron looked up from her cup of hot chocolate and cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. Roll's proposition rang both sweet and sour in her ears. Taking a sip, she made sure that she had heard Roll correctly; "You... want to me to help you build your very own model of the Gustaff?" "Uh-huh. I'm getting tired of sitting around the silo while everybody else is out there risking their necks to get Mega Man back down off Elysium," Roll explained enthusiastically before taking a drink of her coffee. A wry smile crossed Tron's face. "And why don't you just build one yourself, huh?" Roll looked down, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. "Well... uh. I... don't know how... to... design those... kinds of things..." Tron could barely contain her laughter. Not only was her ever-so high and mighty rival Roll asking for help, but she also admitted to a massive shortcoming in her abilities as a mechanic. This was Tron's chance. She could now establish her position as the better mechanic without any needless arguments or discussions. Standing up from her seat and with hands on hips, Tron sauntered towards the door and turned her head towards Roll. "Very well! I suppose as the superior mechanic around here, it's only natural that I'd need to teach you a thing or two. Before you can build your own model of the Gustaff, however, I need test your ability to pilot one. Let's go to the hanger," the ex-pirate queen proclaimed. In her best efforts to catch up with Tron's newly found motivation, Roll leaped up from the table and rushed into the hallway after her. With the advent of the current relationship of cooperation between the Caskets and the Bonnes, a mutual base of operations and living quarters had been constructed near the rocket silo. Financed by both families, the base features a hanger, mess hall, command center and best of all, an indoor swimming pool! The two technophiles had just made their way to the hanger, where various mechs and airships were stored and repaired. Tron approached the dormant Gustaff. "Now. Why don't you try giving my Gustaff here a quick spin? I had just recently re-installed its legs, so it should be pretty easy for a novice to pilot," giving it a few taps with her knuckles. With a nevous look, Roll began to climb into the pilot's seat. "O-okay. Hey, why is the cockpit exposed? It wasn't like that a while ago," she inquired. Tron was caught off-guard by the question. In an attempt to save face, she sighed; "...It's a long story. You probably wouldn't even believe me if I told you. Oh, the ignition is up there on the top-left." After inspecting the control panel for a few seconds, Roll's eyes then lit up at the sight of the ignition button."Right! Here goes noth- EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!" Without warning, the Gustaff's upper-torso began to spin around in a furious manner. Apparently, Tron had also programmed it with a new type of 'street fighter' algorithm, too Normally, Tron would be obliged to help Roll out of her predicament, but she was easily content with just standing there, laughing at Roll's expense.
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Post by Chiz on Apr 5, 2013 9:19:01 GMT -5
Title: Hang In There! (You'll Get It, Eventually) Theme: Help Wordcount: 253 Characters Involved: Rock, unnamed woman Rating: G
Anguished moans came from the desolate ghost town as Rock found himself at a giant fissure in the road. A woman was hanging on for dear life above what might as well be an endless pit, crying for help, begging to be saved. Rock was her only hope.
Unfortunately, pulling her up to safety wasn’t as straightforward as it should be – the brave adventurer had broken his arm earlier, and if it didn’t have the strength to support the nick-knacks he had been picking up around town, it certainly couldn’t support another person. The woman may need help, but Rock needed help, too.
He quickly rummaged through his inventory, trying to find a combination of supplies that would allow her up. It was an awful puzzle, made no better by the stress of the life-or-death predicament. He had two minutes at best; otherwise, her grip would fail, and so would he.
He found a rope amongst his possessions. He added knots along the length of it, and then tied one end securely to a nearby, rusty-old street sign. The length was just enough that she would be able to grab it. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but Rock hoped it would be a sufficient one.
Unfortunately, once the woman transferred her weight to the rope, the rusted signpost gave way. She instantly plummeted into oblivion. She was dead again. Rock screamed with anger and threw the controller to the floor in frustration and disgust before consulting the walkthrough again. This game was hard.
Additional Notes: Hang in there; you'll get it eventually.
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Post by Kyle on Apr 5, 2013 10:05:20 GMT -5
I 'got it' within a minute of reading. Do I get some sort of special prize? Anyways, it looks like not even the far-future is safe from the wrath of Mega Man universe's equivalent of Sierra! I sincerely hope that Volnutt didn't leave a vital item in a now-unreachable area. That would really suck.
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Post by Dashe on Apr 7, 2013 17:54:21 GMT -5
Title: Teisel Gets a Letter Theme: Help Wordcount: 228 Characters Involved: Teisel, Loath Rating: G Additional Notes: Takes place between MoTB and Legends 1
"Master Teisel, you've received a letter!" #28 cheerfully exclaimed as he handed Teisel an envelope.
Teisel glanced away from the TV for a moment and frowned. "This had better not be another bill. Bills are the worst! The number one reason I got Tron the money to build this thing was to cut back on the amount of bills we accumulated at our headquarters! If we can't evade those slimeballs by taking to the skies I don't know WHAT we'll..."
"It's not a bill, Master Teisel!" #28 insisted. "A person actually wrote your name on it! With a real pen!"
"Well why didn't you say so? Let's see what's inside!" Teisel shouted, jumping up from the couch and ripping the envelope open with a flourish.
"My dear friend Teisel,
I'm currently being held in the Gold City Jail. Knowing how well your family has fared with ransacking Gold City in the past, I was hoping you'd be able to lend me a hand and help me break out of here. If you succeed, all of your debts with my organization will be forgiven.
Yours truly, Lex Loath
P.S. If you refuse, you'll regret it!"
Teisel sighed, crumpled the letter up into a paper ball, and chucked it into the fireplace. "I take it back. Bills aren't the worst thing you can get in the mail..."
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Post by Kyle on Apr 7, 2013 18:26:04 GMT -5
Wow. Lex Loath must be extremely short-handed for assistance if he's willing to enlist the aid of the very people who sent him to Gold City Jail in the first place. Not surprising that his request fell upon dead ears, considering how Teisel was more than happy to let Loath drown to death at the end of MoTB.
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Post by Deleted on Apr 8, 2013 14:04:42 GMT -5
Great idea, Dashe. This is a great way to keep this section of the forums alive. I liked many of the drabbles that were posted already. Keep it up, everyone
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Post by Chiz on Apr 8, 2013 16:02:11 GMT -5
Title: Percussive Maintenance Topic: Help (also Fire!) Word Count: 295 Characters Involved: Roll, Tron Rating: PG Additional Notes: I don't think this one is as good as the others, but it's an idea I had, so I went ahead with it, if only to get it out of the way.
The engine coughed, wheezed, and sputtered, but refused to start. It was ancient technology the Bonnes had…”recovered” from a nearby ruin to aide in the development of Rocket #7, which wasn’t so much a rocket as an airship that could handle extreme altitudes, a tactic Roll had proposed due to the better familiarity all of them had with such vehicles. Unfortunately, a proper refractor engine was simply beyond their means; not only were the pieces prohibitively expensive, but the fuel itself – high quality large refractors – inevitably went missing when some other component needed funding. This archaic motor, on the other hand, seemed to show promise, if only it would start.
Tron was increasingly frustrated. “You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?” “Excuse me, but I’m only following the diagrams YOU recovered with the device!” Roll defended. This was more than enough of a warning for the men, who quickly vacated the premises once again to leave…the engineers to their craft, as it were. “I think you ruined it, pouring all that vegetable oil into it! Honestly, what kind of—“ “I know it’s weird, but that’s what the instructions say! Or at least, what I can make out of them.” “You can’t even understand the diagrams?!”
Furious, Tron booted the machine with the sole of her foot. Miraculously, it sprang to life for a wonderful 20 seconds…before catching fire. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start, it was a clue, a hint at the solution to their problem, and the women needed all the help they could get.
~
After the fire was extinguished, Tron was the first to quip. “They were right to put ‘DIES’ at the top of those notes.” “Now, that’s not fair…” The men vacated the area once again…
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Post by Kyle on Apr 8, 2013 16:28:38 GMT -5
I'm getting vast amounts of deja-vu from this drabble. Any inspirations for it, Chiz...?
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Post by Chiz on Apr 11, 2013 11:22:15 GMT -5
Title: Cops & Robbers Topic: Help(ing oneself) Wordcount: 306 Characters Involved: Teisel, Tron, 2 miscellaneous Rating: PG for Comic Mischief Additional Notes: So...5th drabble in 2 weeks, yay?
Teisel and Tron haven’t always been the accomplished criminal duo they’re commonly seen to be. They, too, were once children, and got into mischief the way children always do. Their misadventures served as foreshadowing for their future life of crime, but for now, they were innocent...in a sense.
Long before the escapades we know them for, when Teisel was at the bottom of a precipice called adolescence, and Tron always only ever being 6 years behind, they enjoyed the occasional game of “steal candy from the candy store” – perhaps an unimaginatively named game, but one that never fails to the be popular with youth.
It was what you might call the ‘endgame’ of the match, when they were being chased down the street by the upset store clerk demanding the candy be returned. A few sharp turns down an alley and they were able to lose him by hiding behind a few boxes and garbage cans. They had won, and none too soon; both were out of breath and exhausted from running so fast with something that heavy. They looked in the jars – there was easily 3 kilos of individually wrapped mints, suckers, gums, chewies and sugarsticks between them.
But, as the saying goes, “crime never pays”; they had gotten too comfortable in their hiding place, and looked up to see him, clad in blue and having an expression somewhere between anger and understanding. Teisel was upset that they had been robbed of their victory, and Tron was awed that they’d been found. It was a young policeman-of-sorts, not too much older than Teisel, and he knew all too well the story that had just played out. He confiscated their spoils.
They may have lost the battle, but they had certainly not lost the war, and Teisel vowed to get his revenge on that blue punk.
Daaaaaaashe, it's Thurrrrrsdaaaaaaay. We want a new theeeeeeeme!
Hopefully one I can write multiple drabbles on to keep up my quota...and hopefully one that inspires someone who hasn't written one yet.
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