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752528 No. 752528 ID: e74ee7

Cut Scene.exe

Max regretted starting off her Saturdays this damn early, that awkward hours when the only cartoons that were playing were either the dated, syndicated ones or Japanimation.

Yet, when Max start closing shop on Tuesday's and reduce her hours across the board, she had to make it up to the community in some capacity. Plus, that's when her clientele was likely to show up.
Expand all images
>>
No. 752531 ID: e74ee7
File 147622270093.gif - (1.24MB , 550x550 , WowLongnessforever.gif )
752531

She could already feel that this was going to be a long day ahead of her. The kids, the screaming, the demands for refunds--all of it.

Yet, not only earning money in this economy, but to have your own business was quite the boon. Sure, Max might not be All*Star Pizza Arcade™, but she had a car and a modest apartment in Tower Hill.

Maxine flipped the master switch in the back and turned everything on.

Yeah, the duck was doing alright for herself. She just needed some coffee and a little BBSing to start off her day.
>>
No. 752535 ID: e74ee7
File 147622329350.gif - (7.58KB , 200x200 , OMGDAMNTHISPCCULTUREHURUBURUBR.gif )
752535

She entered the back. There it was, where she spend the more slower part of her day.

It was a fine computer, a Commander 3000 decked out with all the best bells and whistle of the time. Not the best computer on the market today, but it only needed to do a few things.

First, it needed to play music. Music-music, too. Luckily, the secondary drive had a media switch, allowing music to flow from its speakers. She slipped in a floppy she copied from the radio and then inserted it into the drive.

http://8tracks.com/ol_pappers/dos_punk-wstr-101-1-music-for-the-night[/spoiler]

It needed to run all the finances, she did for like the first 30 minutes before it became apparent that was not only boring, but already done.

Most importantly, it needed to dial-in. Today, out of all days, this was the most important aspect. Today was the day that Maxine was finally going to buy a robot.
>>
No. 752536 ID: e74ee7
File 147622372344.png - (3.73KB , 384x280 , new.png )
752536

Cinema Mode disengaged

Maxine dialed into the Robot Boy BBS. It might have been a bit expensive, but it was still a hell of a lot cheaper that buying from a store. Besides, refurbished as just as good and Max had the technical expertise to fix any minor problems or make adjustment.

Even so, a question throbbed in her head. Should buy the parts and build it herself or should she just order a completed model?

The former was a little cheaper, but not by much. Its biggest advantage was customization.

The latter offered ease of access and simplicity. Plus, a more basic model of robot could potentially be cheaper than using expensive parts to build one.

What is your command?>_
>>
No. 752540 ID: 26d334

Build it yourself. You've got the skills for a nice custom job.
>>
No. 752541 ID: 9eaf99

Browse available custom parts, see if there's any particular "thing" you need, and then see if you can get a standard prefab with it.
>>
No. 752544 ID: 91ee5f

Never buy it premade, it might not function the way you want it to and buying the custom parts separately makes it cost even more money!

So you should buy the parts and build it yourself. It may be a pain in the ass to put together, but it'll be worth it. Plus, you can customize the robot to what you specifically need and/or want it to do.
>>
No. 752546 ID: 91ee5f

>>752544
Also, make sure you delete your Internet history so that no one knows that you bought a sex robot!
>>
No. 752552 ID: 3abd97

>>752536
Totally build your tricked out custom sexbot yourself.
>>
No. 752554 ID: 15a025

Build it yourself. You sound like you've got the skills.
>>
No. 752562 ID: e74ee7
File 147623547138.png - (6.27KB , 384x280 , headlist.png )
752562

Max decided to build the robot for herself, utilizing the BBS's built in wizard to keep herself from pouring over what could potentially be a massive list.

The screen decided to start with the head of the robot, before moving down to other parts. It was an interesting turn, but she felt most that would build their own robot this way was probably a layman.

Regardless, that left the question, which one of the heads would she pick?
>>
No. 752563 ID: 04f7b8

CRT all the way. Got to get a nice library of images to emote with.
>>
No. 752564 ID: 398fe1

>>752562
do-occ. Expressive eyes are sexy!
>>
No. 752565 ID: 695ef5

>>752562
Duo-occ! [D]
>>
No. 752568 ID: 3663d3

crt
>>
No. 752569 ID: 3abd97

do-occ
>>
No. 752580 ID: 5a15af

>>752562
CRT
>>
No. 752619 ID: 9f3729

>>752562
CRT is the clear answer
>>
No. 752746 ID: e74ee7
File 147631081911.png - (5.79KB , 384x280 , boards.png )
752746

She decided to go with the square head

Now she had to pick a motherboard for this robot.
>>
No. 752753 ID: dfdadc

Morton v3 seems the best for teaching a robot to dance so I'm definitely going to have to go with that.
>>
No. 752754 ID: 3663d3

musklin
>>
No. 752756 ID: 695ef5

>>752746
[C] Morton V.3
>>
No. 752759 ID: 90aed8

>>752746
How do you expect to build a halfway decent sex robot without a Musklin 900?
>>
No. 752761 ID: 3abd97

Buy a used, totally legit and not counterfeit Corbin 7800 on the black market.

Failing that settle for the Morton V.3.
>>
No. 752762 ID: 15a025

I say go with A.
>>
No. 752765 ID: 91ee5f

>>752746
Get the Corbin 7800! It's the ultimate one for your ro-
DAMNIT!!!!! It's sold out! >.<

Well, I guess the next best thing would be to get the Morton V.3.
>>
No. 752789 ID: 9f3729

>>752746
Musklin for sure. How are we going to get some robot fuckin' going good if they can't lift us bodily up onto it's robot dick?
>>
No. 752863 ID: 16bb01

>>752746
Morton or Scrabb.
>>
No. 752945 ID: e74ee7
File 147641269949.png - (5.02KB , 384x280 , feetsies.png )
752945

It was a bit of a debate, but Morton seemed like the best choice. After all, you had to be fast to deal with some of the snot-nosed customers around here!

Now, it was time to move onto how it will move.
>>
No. 752946 ID: 398fe1

>>752945
BP-XL. An agility focus doesn't make sense with the other options.
>>
No. 752947 ID: 15a025

My votes for the Crus 85
>>
No. 752949 ID: 3abd97

>>752945
Ain't nuthin sexier than crab legs. Crus '85 all the way.
>>
No. 752950 ID: 91ee5f

>>752945
Crus '85!
>>
No. 752993 ID: 16bb01

>>752945
Yeah Crus seems good, or the Treadus.
>>
No. 752996 ID: 48388a

The Crus is on the loose
>>
No. 752997 ID: 18c950

BP-XL fo sho... especially if it has bird legs. It's got the bird feet, does it have the bird ankle?
>>
No. 753033 ID: 3e79eb

...You know, we forgot to ask why you're buying a robot. Does it need to fulfill a particular purpose?
>>
No. 753801 ID: e74ee7
File 147685543424.png - (7.12KB , 384x280 , ModSquad.png )
753801

Maxine decided to go for the crab legs. Something about a fast robot skittering around on crab legs
created for some rather interesting imagery.

>>753033
Max wanted a robot for two reasons.

One was to operate the certain aspects of the arcade, to keep kids, teens, and adults in line as well as shift cabinets around. A friendly robotic face is somewhat of a plus--children seem to respect the machines a bit more so, for whatever reason.

The other was companionship. Max has always wanted a robot friend since she was a little girl. Honestly, who doesn't?


Now, however, she was on the second to final part of the robot building wizard. Luckily, she can pick up to three, but if all three are picked, then no specialized parts can be custom ordered on the final screen. The less that is picked here, the more expensive the customized part or parts can get.

Choose wisely.
>>
No. 753803 ID: 695ef5

Definitely a Grappling Hook, F. They always come in handy.

Aaaaand a PersoChip, D
>>
No. 753805 ID: 594c18

>>753801
If we don't like the custom part options, can we come back here?

Anyway, the only ones I think are useful here are Armored Plates and the PersoChip. Shotgun is kind of in line with bouncing, but overkill and more likely to cause trouble than prevent it.

PersoChip is maybe not entirely necessary but it just sounds fun.
>>
No. 753806 ID: d163e3

>>753801
Sensor Array and PersoChip. Let's make a Protocol Droid.
>>
No. 753807 ID: 9f3729

>>753801
Perso-chip and multitool.
One of those tools has to be a dick!
>>
No. 753808 ID: 398fe1

>>753801
Armor plates, that's it.
>>
No. 753810 ID: 91ee5f

Armored Plates and the PersoChip.

>>753801
>The other was companionship. Max has always wanted a robot friend since she was a little girl. Honestly, who doesn't?
So it is a sex robot!
>>
No. 753812 ID: 3abd97

>>753806
Seconding.
>>
No. 753814 ID: 594c18

>>753810
>companionship equals sex
And thus, all of /quest/ is explained.
>>
No. 753898 ID: 207874

>>753801
Enhanced libido chip
>>
No. 753958 ID: e74ee7
File 147693393246.gif - (169.87KB , 320x320 , aaaaDUCKOFFyoucantbeseriouswhiletyping.gif )
753958

>>753898
>>753810

Maxine doesn't need machines to suffice any carnal urges. She is more than capable of getting a real man.
>>
No. 753959 ID: e74ee7
File 147693419305.png - (4.86KB , 384x280 , partbuilder.png )
753959

Maxine decided on a PersoChip and ArmorPlates. That leaves the duck with one 'fill-in-the-blank' custom part that Maxine could potentially order. Of course, she could also simply save her money and just go with what she has.
>>
No. 753963 ID: 37f049

Extendo-limbs. Can be used to entertain customers, get things off high shelves and imitate a Japanese spider crab. It never gets old!
>>
No. 753967 ID: 91ee5f

>>753958
Congradulations to the author, this was funny and has made my day! XD

>>753959
How about something that'll help the robot maintain its balance so that naughty kids can't tip it over? I think it's called a gyroscope.
>>
No. 753969 ID: d163e3

>>753958
>she honcc me

How about the ability to translate speech?
>>
No. 753971 ID: 398fe1

>>753963
I like this idea.
>>
No. 754137 ID: 4e0c5c
File 147701258145.png - (4.16KB , 384x280 , parsel.png )
754137

Maxine decided to go with the Extendo-Arms™. The BBS was careful to list its limitations, of course. For example, the longer the arms were, the harder it was for the arms to pick up 'objects with weight'. It also had an operational distance of 7 feet (2.13 meters), and while it could go even farther, it wasn't recommended.

Before she could slap down her credit card information, a loud bloop blasted through her speakers and the order information was replaced.

The SynTech™ Multi-BBS E-Mail Service had announced the new e-mail had hit her inbox. The vaguely racist, yet quirky was queuing her in on the fact that her blind date had just messaged her

The body of the e-mail was much like the message.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Rob here.

Debbie gave me your e-mail address. She said last night that she "totally forgot" where you wanted us to meet and to e-mail you directly.

Is there anywhere you wanna go in particularly or do you want me to pick the place?


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Maxine had a number of options. At her disposal. She did live in Lakeshore, after all, one of the largest cities in the mid-west. Of course, her budget was limited now that she bought that robot and there was no guarantee that Rob could pay for it. After all, details about him were limited, other than the fact that he's a "fancy rat" and tonight at 9:30 was the best time for them to date.

Maybe she could get by with something, like the movies, or going to a greasy-spoon. That would work if Fancy Rat was his race, but what if he was a fancy Rat in the context of having wealth? Then she'd have to pick a higher class venue, like a art gallery or a cocktail bar. Of course, Lakeshore had a number of possibilities. Maybe there was something in-between...?
>>
No. 754140 ID: 398fe1

>>754137
It's a blind date, you're not supposed to assume anything. Go for a mid-tier thing.
>>
No. 754204 ID: e95cec

>>754140
Agreed
>>
No. 754266 ID: d163e3

>>754137
Go to the amusement park, or if that's too hard to draw, a tavern.

Note: taverns do not serve hard alcohol, so they are generally cheaper and more "casual". Be wary of dive bars.
>>
No. 754346 ID: 2eeb65

>>754137
Go to one of those infamous semi-underground night clubs where all the post punk musicians, and the androgynous supermodels, and the performance artists, and the alternative photographers, and the trans-genders, and the drug dealers, and the niche prostitutes hang out.
>>
No. 754944 ID: 14086d
File 147726339887.gif - (667.12KB , 320x320 , TheGangIsHere.gif )
754944

>>754346
The Never Never? "Lakeshore's Worst Kept Secret"? Maxine has no idea where something like that would even be. It is sort of an invite-only thing.

>>754266
Maxine ultimately decides on "Fatty's", a nice, mid-tier tavern somewhat close to her apartment. The place is a little run down, but it isn't full blown dive bar. At least not yet.

Maxine will meet Rob at "Fatty's" around 9 tonight, about an hour after the arcade closes.

She'd also finish up her order, hitting return. She can pick up her robot at any point on Monday.

The duck plunks around on another BBS for awhile, catching up on the latest news. Nothing really of note, other than the Unemployment Crisis, but that has been dominating the mainstream media on and off for the past three years, and Congress seems to be--

WHAP!!!

Maxine carefully opens the door, spotting three kids ignoring the arcade machines and straight to her office door.

"Uh.. Can I help you?" The duck looked on at them with skepticism and confusion. Despite the fact the sun has barely risen and the bitter cold of January, three kids were looking up toward her, decked out in leather jackets and sunglasses.

The rabbit--the apparent leader--belts out, "We're the Sunglass Gang!"

"You're nine!" Maxine replied in disbelieve. With the Unemployment Crisis, Lakeshore was starting to become a hotbed for gang activity. If she had been in Helena or Old Town, she'd understand why they were here, but this was a decent part of Lakeshore, where people still had money.

"We're not nine!" snapped the crocodile in the oxblood leathers, "We're eleven!"

"Uh huh."

"And I'm twelve," the young rooster in the back would emphasis, "See? I'm growing my waddle."

"That's nice," Maxine said in response to the tiny red nub under his beak.

One look at them and it was blatantly obvious. This baby faced trio were about as tough as pudding.

"What are you three doing here?"

"We're racketeering." The rabbit's tone was matter-of-fact.

"And what's racketeering?"

"It's where we make a racket until you give us money!"

"Oh."

"You better pay up," said the buck-toothed crocodile.

So, what now?
>>
No. 754947 ID: d163e3

>>754944
Pick up the phone and pretend it's one of their mothers calling in.
>>
No. 754949 ID: 71d443

Call their parents.
>>
No. 754961 ID: b8d5aa

this could be a golden opportunity for advertisement.

play into their little game. squat down, get on their level, speak to them confidentially.

tell them that you can't afford to pay them 'racket money', unless you get some more customers.

in fact, the more customers these little badasses can bring in, the more you're willing to pay them in racket money, see how that works? it's a win/win.
>>
No. 754969 ID: 3abd97

What kind of racket? Is it louder than if I turn all the games in here on full? Cause I'm used to that.

>>754944
Ask their names, so you know who to make the check out to.

Then >>754949
>>
No. 754970 ID: 398fe1

>>754944
Give em some quarters. It'll just go straight back into your arcades so who cares.
>>
No. 754973 ID: e95cec

>>754961
I like this idea.
>>
No. 754981 ID: 14086d
File 147728161139.gif - (43.76KB , 320x320 , aaaDuckOffLeftFaceShifty.gif )
754981

>>754969
"Alright, bo--"

"Sunglass Gang," the crocodile interrupted. The chicken in the looked away, as if he knew how unusual their name sounded.

"Sunglass Gang. I need your names before you can get your money. Checks and all that."

The rabbit answered after a few moments, "Haywood."

"Haywood what?"

"Haywood... Jablowme." All three of the boy started cackling.

"And I'm Seymore Butts!" interjected the crocodile. Given the nature of the laughter, it appears the preteens have discovered a comedic goldmine.
>>
No. 754982 ID: 14086d
File 147728166879.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , Landline.gif )
754982

>>754947

"Hold on, I'm getting a phone call."

Maxine rushes herself back into her office. She picks up the recieve and starts to speak loud enough for the boys to hear, making sure to pause as if she was having a real conversation.

"Max's Arcade. ... Why yes, there IS a young rabbit in a leather jacket here! ... Yes, he has two of his friends here. ... Uh huh. A crocodile AND a chicken."

The boys started to pipe down, one of them giving an audible shh.

"Yeah, they're doing the stupid Sunglass Gang thing and they are being very rude, too. ... Oh? Ground him AND the Belt? Sounds like---
>>
No. 754983 ID: 14086d
Audio Receiver_Off_-_Hook_Tone.mp3 - (1.38MB , Receiver Off - Hook Tone.mp3 )
754983

---a plan."

Shit. It was that noise. The boys were obviously having a field day with this. The Sunglass Gang had the kind of laughter that made her question why she hadn't bought a new smartphone, yet.

"What a dumbass!"

They also had the kind of attitude that made her question her policy of not punching children.

She hung up the phone and made her way back out of the office. The duck had one more plan of her sleeves.
>>
No. 754985 ID: 14086d
File 147728176371.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , DuckOffLeftFacingSmile01.gif )
754985

>>754961

"Alright, Sunglass Gang. You got me. You win." Max was going full throttle in the acting department.

"Radical!" the croc took the bait and the other two followed with him.

"There's a problem, though. I don't get a lot of people here," she sighed, "If only I had someone to help me bring more people in here, so I could have more money..."

"Wait a minute." Maxine spoke as if she was reaching for the Oscar.

"You three could help me! If you three could go out and tell everyone how cool Max's Arcade is, then I could get enough money to give to you!"

Maxine could feel her heart vibrate. The croc and the chicken seemed to have made up their mind about the idea, but soon turned their attention to their glorious leader.
>>
No. 754988 ID: 14086d
File 147728180880.gif - (74.63KB , 320x320 , SunglassLeaderShowsApproval.gif )
754988

Sweet jubilation! Maxine melted slightly in her black Keds.

"Just be sure to call it advertising if an adult asks you about it. That way, you won't get in trouble!"

The boys seemed to agree that it was a good idea before running off and Maxine felt satisfied that turned what could have been a very bad situation into a potentially profitable one.

All that was left now was to fill the gap before the first big rush.

A) Get a quick breakfast at Buccaneer Bob's Donuts.
B) Poke around on BBSes some more.
C) Check her logs to see when the new shipment of arcade machines comes in.
D) Try and beat her old high score.
E) [Your choice here.]
>>
No. 755001 ID: 594c18

>>754988
Pretty sure B is the only real option.
>>
No. 755012 ID: 91ee5f

>>754988
A) You've gotta be starving by now.
>>
No. 755125 ID: 18c950

A+B... breakfast to go, chow while you read! It's not too hard to eat a donut with one hand and navigate a BBS with another.
>>
No. 755175 ID: 14086d
File 147737373135.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , DoughnutsOrDonuts.gif )
755175

>>755125
A quick breakfast and BBS check wouldn't hurt.

She stopped over at Buccaneer Bob's Donuts just on the corner. It wasn't far from where she was currently. She could practically smell the coffee and glaze through the bricks.
>>
No. 755184 ID: 14086d
File 147737442548.gif - (179.93KB , 320x320 , DonutDrop.gif )
755184

The place was surprisingly not crowded. Then again, it was Saturday.

"Three randoms, an egg stack, and medium coffee, loaded with cream."

"8 DULLARZ AND FIF-TEE CENTZ PLEEZE." The robot had seen better days and his voice chip was on the fritz. He sounded like he was trapped in a fizzing factory.

She laid down the wad of quarters she was so accustomed to using and the robot racked over the counter and into the open cavity in his stomach.

"FANK YOOU. JUAN MO-MINT, PLEEZE."

The machine behind the brick wall facade hurled to life, letting out audible grinding and clanks as it worked on assembling her order in a timely manner.

Soon, a claw dropped down from the ceiling, holding her food stuff. As it did so, she remained how impressive it used to be that it came from a claw instead of a conveyor belt.

"FANK YOOU. HAVE A NICH DAY."

Maxine took her order and scrambled back to her office.
>>
No. 755187 ID: 14086d
File 147737580283.png - (3.04KB , 384x280 , Illuminatii.png )
755187

Maxine decided to use the old "Quik Chek™" terminal in the back. It was one of the last models they produced before smartphones finally superceded them, replacing a need for these kind of stand-alone PCs.

She punched in the code to get admin access and dialed into her favorite BBS, The Big Secret.

Max was absolutely enthralled with conspiracies. She was never paranoid enough to believe most of them, but some... some the post held some weight.

Tambanina Bezelli is an ALIEN?! The PROOF is HERE!!1

This was not one of those posts.

In fact, it seemed a lot of the stuff posted was raw garbage filled with "L@@Ks" and random, capitalized words as if they added EMPHASIS somehow.

She'd eventually find three with interesting enough titles to merit her time.

A) The Never Never's secret VIP section
B) Where is Margret and Steve? The story the media won't cover.
C) The Big Study.
>>
No. 755208 ID: fe0b91

the big study
>>
No. 755248 ID: 5d1657

we were just thinking about The Never Never a few minutes ago! it must be a sign.

...of a conspiracy!
>>
No. 755275 ID: 91ee5f

>>755187
A) The Never Never's secret VIP section
>>
No. 755686 ID: 15a025

A.
>>
No. 755851 ID: 14086d
File 147768236420.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , Large Terminal.gif )
755851

Maxine hunkered down for a long post reading. As she read, she nibbled on her food, fufilling her eat requirement today, meaning she is not going to suffer any sort of penalties.

The post itself read as follows:
------------------

USER: StupidYuppieScum
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:23 AM

Title: The Never Never's secret VIP section

Hi, Big Secret! "Jeff" here.

To recap where we left off, I convinced a friend of a friend of mine to take me to the Never Never. You know, the oh-so brooding Goth type that surrounds himself in darkness. As some of you know, after you're recommended and you get your email, you're set for the "Never Never experience" as long as you keep it cool.

Getting into the VIP area is another thing entirely. I know had promised nearly eight months ago, but it was an uphill struggled and I didn't want to get blacklisted. Most people don't even know where it is. Considering the mass of flesh and the subsection of rooms, it makes sense. I knew there had to be there. though. All the signs were pointing to it.

It took a month or so to piece it all together, but I found the way in: a red match book.

I wasn't even at the club at the time. I was outside of the Summerland Mall returning a defective Christmas gift, waiting on the corner of the MagRail to pick up its load of passengers. Given the hour, it was literally only me and one other person. He was male bull in his mid 20s. He was tough looking, too, the kind that earned his muscles and callouses, albeit this was over a that filter of gauntness that is so common among the homeless.

I offered him my other mall pretzel and it disappeared in a blink. I offered him a cigarette as a follow up and like a smart person, he rejected it. When I went to try and light my own up, he offered me a matchbook. I lit it without hesitation, pocketing the matches without thinking about it. I stood there in silence for a bit as we exchanged awkward glances, before I broke down and started a conversation with a man we'll call "John".

"John" came from a long generation of dock workers, going back to the mid-1900s. He took worked there for a while in his late teens until progress phased him out. Unfortunately for "John", he didn't have the face for the service industry, the mind for college, or the attitude for the military. He lived with his mother for awhile until breast cancer took her out. Then, he was on his own, unable to afford the apartment he lived in, forcing him out into the streets.

"John" just kept saying "I'm gonna bounce back. I have my chance." Each time he finished a negative thought, he puncuated it with that ray of hope. I was tempted to ask him how, but the night was only getting colder and he needed the warmth.

The MagRail came and I started to board it, pausing briefly to look back at "John". He didn't have the money to ride it and when I offered to pay for it, he said, "Robots'll just shoo me out anyway." I gave him the money anyway before I hopped into the MagRail disappeared into the night.

I fumbled through my pockets for another smoke and discovered the matchbook. I felt so awful for having taken this man's only means of fire. I might have rode it all away back around, but I felt that by the time I got there, "John" would be gone and I'd have to take cab home.

I stared at the matchbook in shame, until I started to realize something. This was remarkably similar to the matchbooks The Never Never's smoking section.

While those matchbooks were white, this one was fire truck red. The lady on the cover was winking, her big grin now replaced with a slight smile. When I opened it up, I realized that there was a barcode inside the matchbook with something written behind the matches: "V 10/84 - 12/84".

"John" had inadvertantly gave me a way inside the VIP section!

I decided to save my matchbook for New Year's Eve. After all, it would have been one hell of a party.

I brought along the matchbook and showed it to the bouncers. He looked at me, and the matchbook, almost a little confused. He said "Must be new" to the other bouncer before giving me directions to the other door. Of course! Why would the VIPs enter the same way? After going down a series of hallways, boom, I was met with a door and two more bouncers. Showed them the matchbook again. One of them pulled out a scanner and rubbed it down the top of the matchbook. The double doors unlocked and one of them said "Have fun".

The open the door and.. woah. Just..

It was like walking in on your parents fucking. Not just normal fucking either, but intense, fetishistic fucking. The kind where your dad is in your mom's clothing, your mom's in latex and welding a strap-on, and there's a strange, third woman tied to a chair wearing a stained, luchador mask.

Yeah, the VIP room had the kind of imagery you'd need therapy for.

This room in particular with tiered downward. I was on the first level and it featured the usual suspects of Never Never. Drugs, alcohol, loud music, dancing, and not-so-stealthy 'jobs underneath velvet covered tables. The usual stuff, except now it was a who's-who. The Soviets could have dropped one bomb right there and at least 20% of the those we trust to entertain, to inform, and to lead would be gone. 60% if we're talking just big, Lakeshore names.

I didn't go to the second tier immediately under me, but I assume it was an orgy, both in the literal and decedant sense. The stairwell in the back was tempting to go down, but my eyes were drawn more-so to the pit in the center of the room, where the floor opened up and revealed the goings on below on the third tier.

A drab, concrete floor with two doors. It was curious given the nature of the club, but nothing to merit too much time in, consider all the other stimuli.

I scoffed it off and attempted to hob-knob with celebs. The shit they said was just.. awful. Everything you'd expect and nothing you'd want to hear coming out of their mouth. How their charity were slush funds, laughing at poor people, what stuff they were keeping quiet in the media. All of it. I could write a book.

I noticed a small kiosk toward the back that people were slowly starting to gather around. I didn't approach, but people it was obvious that people were placing bets, handing over stacks of cash.

Then, the barker came out.

This top hatted (yes) mother-fucker drew our attention to our pit down below, speaking about the Big Fight that was about to happen as if everyone in the room already knew what was going to happen. Then, the two doors open. The first door opened up and this massive 'bot rolled out on tank-treads. He looked like a refridgerator with arms.

Then "John" came about out of the other door.

I knew what was going to happen next.

Upon reflection, maybe there was a buried hope. I mean, that's why we where here. That's why people were betting. That's why, when I looked into his eyes, I tried to cheer him on non-verbally.

But, I knew what was going to happen.

I watched for a little bit before backing away slowly. The display was sickening. I backed away to the smoking's room, hoping to calm down with a cigarette, but vomitting instead to the disgust of a European baroness. I just bolted for the door after that, barely faining some sickness for anyone that might show a brief interest in me.

I got away as far as I could on foot, thinking somehow my weak consitituion was going to mark me as other in the eyes of these elites. By the end of it all, I was standing at the shore of that big lake we call home, the cold winds chilling my insides.

I didn't care. I wanted to be here. I wanted to stare at this. If somehow put it all together, I wanted them to find me here. I wanted my narrative to end here, either heroically or at least poetically.

They never came. I sat huddled in my big coat for several hours before I called a cab to come pick me up. I sat on the information for sometime, wonder if I should even release it or not. After losing sleep, I decided that I would, but only here and only on an old Quik-Chek Terminal. The names were obviously changed and SOME aspects of the story have been changed or omitted as not to draw attention to myself. As LayeredCake would say, "Lord knows who might be on here."

I'll stick around to answer a few questions, but please, for the love of G-d, do not make me go into details.

-----

Maxine would be the first person to post on this. The post itself is barely seven minutes old.

What question should she ask? Or should she just watch and wait for others to post?
>>
No. 755862 ID: 398fe1

>>755851
"Cool story, bro"
>>
No. 755866 ID: 15a025

Would you dare going back?
>>
No. 755890 ID: 5d1657

>>755851
local save immediately. stuff like this gets taken down.
>>
No. 755892 ID: 91ee5f

>>755851
Holy shit! O_o

>>755890
Do this!
>>
No. 755920 ID: 2eeb65

>>755851
Wow OP, that was something else!

As for suggestion, I agree with >>755890
>>
No. 755986 ID: 14086d
File 147776724853.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , HeeeyyyYaaaa.gif )
755986

>>755920
I can't take all the credit. A friend of my helped.

>>755892
Maxine couldn't, unfortunately. Quik Chek™ are basically computer phone booths, with a single diskette drive in the back that read the OS. Maybe if Maxine had time to disassemble the beast and install a secondary drive, she might, but this wasn't her property anyway. It was owned by Bell-o-fone™, Inc.

Of course, that doesn't mean there wasn't a way around it, albeit a lame one.

Maxine rushed to the back and found her old InstaFoto™ camera, taking a picture of the screen as it were and shaking it dry. She wrote just what she was looking at in red sharpie along the bottom. It wasn't the best solution, but the words on the screen were clear and she had some kind of proof that it existed.

>>755866

She then typed up her question.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

USER: TheMallardianCandidate
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:36 AM

Would you dare going back?
__________

USER: StupidYuppieScum
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:39 AM

Only in extreme circumstances. On my own? No. I'm not even going to the regular Never Never anymore. It means supporting the bastards in VIP and whoever runs the place. It also means they might figure out who I am and catch me.
__________

USER: TheMallardianCandidate
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:41 AM

Can you even imagine was those circumstances would be?
_________

USER: TruthSeeker81
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:42 AM

Sounds like a LOAD of BULLSHIT to me. I know how your "people" like to spread lies to hide the REAL TRUTH.
_________

USER: StupidYuppieScum
DATE: 01/17/2085
TIME: 7:44 AM

@ TheMallardianCandidate -
If I knew I could take the place apart and not kill anyone in the process. Maybe make them realize how stupid and senseless it all is. I dunno. All I know is it involves gasoline and hammers.

@ TruthSeeker81 -
Oh Boy! This again. Have you been fitted for your tinfoil hat yet, bub?
_________

Reply? [Y/n]:_
>>
No. 756148 ID: d163e3

>>755986

n

Don't take the b8 m8
>>
No. 756157 ID: 2eeb65

>>755986
N

Rush home and download the post onto your PC, if it's still there.
>>
No. 757269 ID: 08ea7f
File 147850698618.gif - (493.37KB , 320x320 , Yeea.gif )
757269

>>756148
Maxine's been around the block long enough to know where this was going. She decided to just let the post go for now, poking around elsewhere on the BBS, only to hear a familiar WHAP! of her door hitting the wall.

Turning around, she'd discover the first rush was about to begin. Her favorite rush.

The Saturday Morning DILF rush.

Single dads and divorced, weekend dads love bringing their kids to the arcades. It was a relatively cheap way to get in their kids in good graces without the fear of actually getting to know them.

For Maxine, however, it was a chance to intensely ogle.

She didn't make her little preference known to most. At 27 years, it was starting to become a reasonable preference that she could finally vocalize.
>>
No. 757270 ID: 08ea7f
File 147850703403.gif - (27.41KB , 320x320 , ItsForYou.gif )
757270

This ogle would only last for awhile. No real takers, sadly. Maxine blamed her weight, even though the evidence wasn't there.

She didn't have too much time to reach that conclusion, however. The phone in her office was ringing. She rushed off to answer it.

It turns out it was the mother of one of the Sunglass kids--Harold. Apparently, Maxine's suggestion that they go out to advertise means they decided to get rough with one of the neighborhood kids, that poor guy a bloody nose.

Oh good lord. Now Harold's mother is threatening to sue her arcade over this.

What's she going to do?
>>
No. 757272 ID: 37f049

Tell her what her little darling's been getting up to.
>>
No. 757280 ID: 91ee5f

>>757269
>Into DILFs
>Sees a fat wolf guy.
So, you're into fat guys, huh? .....well, the heart wants what the heart wants.

>>757270
>This ogle would only last for awhile. No real takers, sadly. Maxine blamed her weight, even though the evidence wasn't there.
You take that back, young lady! There is nothing wrong with your weight!

>One of the Sunglass kids' mother is threatening to sue.
Tell her that it's not your fault that her son has made poor life choices and started a life of crime by joining a gang. It sounds like it's her son's fault for hanging around those other boys, who are an obvious bad influence for him. Peer pressure is a terrible thing for someone his age.
>>
No. 757291 ID: d163e3

>>757269
>dad overload
Start talking loudly about how you need help building a new deck for your house. This is sure to attract at least one dad.

As for the child's mother, say that you cannot be liable for the influence that your establishment has on its patrons. Violence in games is an increasing issue that she will have to take up with publishers and the FCC.
>>
No. 757353 ID: 08ea7f
File 147857568570.gif - (35.36KB , 320x320 , ItsForYouTOO.gif )
757353

>>757272
Maxine clearly and calmly states that her son and the two other members of the Sunglass gang threatened to racketeer the arcade. Maxine also explained that she wanted to call, but they refused to give their name.

Harold's mother seems a bit skeptical, but seems open to the idea.

>>757280
The duck then insinuates that it might be a result of peer-pressure from the other two, before going on to suggest that it might be wise for her to separate him from the others for awhile, as well as calling their mothers to let them know what went down.

The mother seems to agree with this course of action, but thinks that blatantly sending children out to work for free is woefully irresponsible, particularly if they were calling themselves a gang.

How is Maxine going to respond to this?
>>
No. 757355 ID: b8d5aa

>>757353
if they're getting into trouble and calling themselves a gang, then giving them an honest job to do is something maxine ought to be praised for!
>>
No. 757371 ID: d163e3

>>757353
This is clearly her fault for raising such dumpster-tier kids.
>>
No. 757376 ID: 91ee5f

>>757355
This.

>>757371
Not this! We're trying to get her to not sue the arcade and insulting her like that won't help!
>>
No. 757379 ID: d163e3

>>757376
I mean, I'm not saying to say that directly to her, but you can't deny it's true.

Suggest that the boys find a positive way to direct their time and energy, but see if she has any suggestions or connections that might help.
>>
No. 757741 ID: 3abd97

>The mother seems to agree with this course of action, but thinks that blatantly sending children out to work for free is woefully irresponsible, particularly if they were calling themselves a gang.
>How is Maxine going to respond to this?
Ma'am, those children were already presenting themselves as a gang when they walked in to my arcade and thought they could pull off some kind of misguided stickup. I offered them a chance to do something responsible and productive instead, and they jumped at it. I'm sorry it turned out the way it did, but in my opinion those young men need something positive to do in their lives to keep them out of trouble. Work keeps people honest.
>>
No. 757840 ID: 08ea7f
File 147885269219.jpg - (36.53KB , 458x342 , a6e3955e56ccf07ca76c298f1d2a1d50fca6e5ff62d7afcb70.jpg )
757840

http://tgchan.org/kusaba/questdis/res/105525.html[/spoiler]
>>
No. 759480 ID: 08ea7f
File 147943290705.gif - (27.02KB , 320x320 , GraduateOfFaceNUPhone.gif )
759480

>>757355
Maxine informs the mother that she aught to be praised for giving them a chance at honest work!

The mother doesn't see it that way. Not one bit. She continues to see Maxine as the antagonist in this situation. She continues to threaten a lawsuit against her.

Of course, then the mother starts to slyly suggest that this could all go away if she would slip some money her way. She's not saying the amount, at least not yet, seeming to wait for Maxine to spout out a number herself.
>>
No. 759482 ID: d163e3

>>759480
Well, looks like you're paying off another angry parent. The life of an arcade owner!!

$50

per


kid
>>
No. 759484 ID: 3abd97

>>759480
Ma'am, I didn't open my wallet when your adorable little gangster in training thought he could walk in and hold up my store, and I'm not about to let his mother play the same card.
>>
No. 759485 ID: 398fe1

I'll give you fifty bucks.
>>
No. 759516 ID: 91ee5f

>>759484
This.
>>
No. 759517 ID: 91ee5f

>>759516
And also tell her that all phone calls that go through this phone are recorded, so she just incriminated herself and you'll take this to this police and have her arrested for attempted blackmail.

Just don't let her know that you are totally lying your ass off.
>>
No. 759684 ID: b8d5aa

>>759480

are there any videos/recordings of this exchange that might have taken place?

tell that woman to go pound sand! don't let yourself be extorted.

maybe phrase it more delicately than that, though. you did nothing wrong.
>>
No. 763284 ID: 7a5543
File 148075809554.gif - (27.66KB , 320x320 , TheLazy.gif )
763284

>>759684
Maxine isn't recording this conversation in any way. She's also in the office on her phone, so no one was listening.

>>759484
"Ma'am, I didn't open my wallet when your adorable little gangster in training thought he could walk in and hold up my store, and I'm not about to let his mother play the same card." Her tone was annoyed, but matter of fact.

>>759517
She heaped a lie on top of that. "Congratulations on making an ass of yourself, by the way. I got the whole thing recorded to floppy. I hope you like dealing with the people."

The mother wasn't buying it. "Well, I hope you like dealing with my lawyers, bitch."

"You and your garbage kid can go pound sand!" she spat.

They both mutually slammed their phones on their respective cradles.
>>
No. 763286 ID: 7a5543
File 148075996675.gif - (130.70KB , 320x320 , DuckOffMegaSigh.gif )
763286

Maxine let out a long sigh before returning to her post, already finding someone getting a little too rough with one of the pinball machines. She scolded them with perhaps a bit more vitriol that required, but the message was got across and they stopped.

She returned to her post behind the counter in the back, idly ogling dads. She though about having them try to help her with her non-existent deck, but she held her tongue. She did have a date after all.

A date that she would spend most of the day thinking about.
>>
No. 763293 ID: 7a5543
File 148076883443.gif - (8.00KB , 320x320 , HulkamaniaRunningMild.gif )
763293

Boom! It's Robert "Fucking" Nowak time!

Rob was pumped beyond belief! A combination of excitement, rock, stress, and his natural hypomania was sending him to levels he hadn't felt in awhile. He felt like slamming his fist through the wall multiple times. If he wasn't living in his GamGam's spare room, he might have. Instead, he exerted his throbbing energy over a speed bag in the corner of his room.

WhappityBappityWhappityBappity

Christmas '81 was great for Rob! This was the one of the last gifts he got before his mom died. Christmas '84 was good too. Got one of them new cellphones! This could handle the 'thin flops', too. With an adapter, boom! Now it works well with that new computer he got in '83! God, his GamGam was awesome.

WhappityBappityWhappityBappity

Robert wondered, for a brief duration, if 23 was too late to learn guitar. To blast sweet lixx like a metal head or a punk rock master. Maybe he should just get voice lessons so he can hit the high notes like those glam rock virtuosos. He let out a test "Waaaah!" while he punched on the bag. Rob thought he sounded pretty fucking awesome. Not stage material, but he could skip the first few lessons.

WhappityBappityWhappityBappity

Apparently this date is with some duck broad that owns an arcade. Maxine! That ain't a half bad name, in his book! Short for Max. Does she take it to the max? Maximum sex?! Oh yeah! That was the hope, right there. Drunken debauchery on a queen-size was a fine evening for Rob! Maybe even butt stuff! With his butt! No. Can't scare her away like his last girlfriend. Ol' Cindy "Bendy" Bailey. Prude. Damn, was that the last girl he was in a quasi-serious relationship? Bitchy Bailey? Booby Bailey? Sinful Cindy, fit and frisky? That was literally in high school. Still, he was held back in 7th grade and started one year late. But whatever. Fuck. High school was so fucking fucksville. No one understood him or the thousands of bolts of fucking electric fire that danced in his skull with the insanity of nuclear sun sandwiches. Ol 'Spazzy Mo-fap'. Fucking hell, high school sucked! Good thing Robert was an adult now. Grown ass man, with a license. No car, but he could drive his GamGam's, if he needed. The rails were still good for most things. Meeting cousins, trade school, bars, more trade school, bowling, even more trade school. Rob was going to be a plumber. Plumbing was fucking awesome! Modern civilization was built on plumbing. Literally! Romans started that shit or something, but they used lead pipes and it made a fuck-ton of people retarded. British in the 19th century used to pump their shit into the Thames, and it gave a fuck-ton of bastards cholera. Until Joseph Bazalgette fixed that shit like a fucking man! What a beast! A mother fucking unsung hero! Great Stink, fuck off! Champion Supreme, fixing shit! Holy Fucking Shit, to be that kind of plumber!

WhappityBappityWhappityBappityWhappityBappityWhappityBappityWhappityBappityWhappityBappity

Robert was now spending the current section of his learning experience telling computers what to do. Fucking dumb as fuck! He wanted to go back to the first sections.

He wanted to be back with the pipes, seeing the problem, and fixing it with his own hands. It was calming, to fiddle with something on that level, to just for once, for only just a few short minutes, to feel different.

Warm, rushing water.

Warm, rushing water traveling through PVC and concrete.

Tumbling down the pipes. Onward to the plant. Treated. Cleaned. Then onward once more, becoming one with the lake.

Is this what it felt like for normal people?

Was serenity warm, rushing water?

WhappityBap. Bap. BAP!

"Shit!" His hands were sore from punching the speed bag. He did it for nearly 40 consecutive minutes and now he had to get ready for his date or lose the possibility of meeting anyone tonight.

He hopped in the shower and scrubbed himself clean. He spent perhaps a little longer than he should have in it.

He slapped his glasses back on, stepped out of the shower, and paused to look at himself in the mirror.

What a wonderful sight! Robert saw a fucker that was fit! His body was svelte and his muscles were wiry, plus he had huge nuts! These things had their own gravitational pull! Back to the face now. Robert didn't want to rub one out, there was a fucking queen-sized bed in this if all things go right! And they will fucking fuck, damnit! Beastly Robert with the Big Balls! Back to the face, focus.

Shit, that was a sweet 'stache! He had been growing it for awhile, but a clean lip was a good lip too! Both were nice. Oh shit, the date! Wait, what if she hated it? Mustache, no 'stache?! Shhiiiiii--

A) EMBRACE THE MANLINESS AND KEEP THAT 'STACHE!
B) KILL THE CATERPILLAR! EMBRACE A BOLD NEW ERA OF A CLEAN FACE!
>>
No. 763295 ID: 3343bd

It has to go.
>>
No. 763329 ID: 15a025

B.
>>
No. 763410 ID: 7a5543
File 148082941458.gif - (336.58KB , 320x320 , BlondJoeyRamoneGetExcitedAboutHairLoss.gif )
763410

Buzz buzz!

It didn't take too long for the mustache to be gone. Rob had to be careful, sure, but with the right amount of practice and attachment, it didn't matter. It was soon a blond pile in the middle of his sink.

Fuck! He looked so fucking good! Like a champion supreme! Goodbye, mustache! Getting carded was going to be shitty. He looks even younger than before. He's going to get carded so hard when he buys beer. Maybe cigarettes will be okay! Too bad cigarettes are nasty death sticks. Maybe Maxine smokes.

Oh shit, the date!

Robert wrapped a towel around him and scooted back to his room. Now was the time for an outfit. The question was, what would look good on him?
>>
No. 763460 ID: 91ee5f

>>763410
Well, we don't know what he has in his closet, so if we knew what he, we'd make suggestions.
>>
No. 763464 ID: 3343bd

Everything looks good on you. But dress up a bit. Wanna impress that fine lady you'll be seeing.
>>
No. 763646 ID: 7d8168

Leather jacket, worn-down blue jeans.
>>
No. 764166 ID: f6de90
File 148110166654.gif - (21.30KB , 320x640 , NewRedesignRobVirbratesWithExcitement.gif )
764166

>>763646
Robert Nowak jumps into his finest worn-out blue jeans, long sleeve shirt and leather jacket.

Rob looks fucking radical! No way Maxine can resist this fucker's charm! That queen-sized mattress would soon be in his future! Sweet, merciful fuck! This date was going to be awesome! He wasn't certain what Fatty's entailed, but whatever it was, sheer awesomeness was soon to follow in its wake, even if it was worse off than his own local tavern.

Rob bolted downstairs from his room toward the front door. Robert's hand reached out. He was literally vibrating with excitement! This was the first step in a number of many that was going to change his life for the absolute better!

"Bobby?"
>>
No. 764175 ID: f6de90
File 148110600381.jpg - (43.15KB , 450x461 , GamGamWantsKisses.jpg )
764175

It was his GamGam.

She had been sitting in her recliner, watching some cop show on TV. She had since muted it so that all of her attention could be focused on her grandson.

Rob spun around. He hated being called Bobby. Bobby was a boy's name and he was a grown ass man. Rob, damnit! Rob was the only acceptable moniker in his mind, outside of the more formal Robert. Bob had been his father and Junior was just a reminder that he lingered in a shadow of a man much greater than he was. GamGam got a free pass, predominately because she was his last immediate family member.

"Oh, hey GamGam! I didn't know you were still up."

"Well, I heard this new story was coming on at eight and I just wanted to stay up and watch it," she said with a warm clarity.

He lumbered toward her recliner in that cluttered room of doilies, furniture, knickknacks, and the TV. A stoneware Virgin Mary stood in the corner, reminding the elder of her faith, the youth of his guest status in her home, and for the both of them to remain on their best behavior.

"Oh, it should be! It's about a young lady that used to be a doctor until her husband gets killed by these Puerto Ricans, you see. Then she becomes a detective to solve the crime. And--"

Robert started tuning her out around Puerto Ricans. He wanted to get out of the door. It was calling to him. This night was begging for his appearance. He desperately wanted to find a conversational out. Something! Anything!

Luckily, GamGam provided one for him. "Where are you going to in such a hurry? Jeffery's?"

"Oh, no. Jeffery's got work. Nah, I'm going on a date, GamGam!"

"How wonderful!" she said in an excited tone, adding "Is she Puerto Rican?"

"No, GamGam. She's--she's not Puerto Rican." He'll never understand her obsession. She wasn't like that with any other ethnicity or race. At least, he didn't think so!

No, no she wasn't.

"Even better! You'll have to tell me everything when you get back," she smiled at him, quickly adding, "Do you want to borrow my car?"

That was a good question.

The car itself wasn't in a bad shape. It was older, but it wasn't having much issues. It wasn't a looker though, it was an obvious grandma-type car. Even if he hid the doilies, her personality oozed all over it. Plus, he didn't like using it for these personal trips. Things that benefited her and the house was fine, but he rarely used it for personal gain.

The MagRail was an obvious alternative. It ran late into the night and early in the morning, a nearly 24 hour period with the soul exception of a 2 hour break starting at 2am. It wasn't a guarantee that he would be dropped off right in front of Fatty's. He'd probably have to walk to the tavern. At night. In January. In the northern part of the US.

The AutoTaxis were another solution. All he'd have to do was dial up the number, speak to an automated representative and it would drive out to him and drop him off at the front door. Of course, AutoTaxis were a little more expensive, so he couldn't impress her with what meager money he has. There was also a rumor going around that people were hacking cars. No crashes or anything like that, but he heard cars would take a detour to an alley full of thieves. Nothing on the news, though. Just rumors.

Which one should he pick?

A) Take GamGam's Car!
B) Take the MagRail!
C) Take an AutoTaxi!
>>
No. 764176 ID: 3343bd

B) Magrail. The walk will damp that excitement vibration down into being smoooooth.
>>
No. 764180 ID: 7d8168

B) Magrail. You'll be fine on a walk, you've got your jacket. A sweet jacket like that doesn't just make you look hot, it'll keep you warm too.
>>
No. 765964 ID: d1ca4d
File 148177327667.jpg - (15.87KB , 450x300 , IMStickingWithThisJokeBecauseItIsFunnyToMe.jpg )
765964

"That's fine, GamGam! I'm gonna take the MagRail tonight."

"Oh, okay." GamGam almost looks disappointed by the fact that you rejected her car. Rob had been here before, saying with a bit of a smile, "I'll call you if I need picked up, okay?"

He had no intent on calling her. Unless situations were dire. Like, really dire. How lame it would be to involve anything GamGam on a first day! That's at least as third day thing, and that's assuming she's remotely cool with the idea of someone living with their grandma.

GamGam smiled and slid under her blanket, looking back at her grandson, "Well, you have a good night out!"

Rob made his way outside and toward the station.
>>
No. 765966 ID: d1ca4d
File 148177398835.gif - (109.00KB , 320x320 , WaitingForTheTrain.gif )
765966

7:50p -- One hour, 10 minutes before the date.

The walk was short, but the air was still brisk. His leather jacket was meant more so for 30 degrees Fahrenheit (-1.11 Celsius) weather, not this 20-something bullshit (-6.66 C).

Still, it took the brunt of the worst weather, causing him to shiver inside of his coat. To make matters worse, it felt like the train was taking forever to arrive. He paced around, looking about the immediate area to pass the time. Nothing of any remote interest seemed to peak until Rob took an intense interest in the column at the end of the platform.
>>
No. 765973 ID: d1ca4d
File 148177617742.gif - (13.68KB , 320x320 , ThePanel.gif )
765973

8:01 -- 59 minutes until the date.

Robert analyzed the column, noticing that the door that was usually locked away had been left unlocked. He pulled back on the tiny steel door, only to a panel on display before him.

The red button appeared to have a dedicated read-out next to it that said "ERR.." suggesting some kind of error was under way.

The blue, orange, green, and white buttons surrounded a small CRT display. It appeared that the color of the buttons corresponded with the color of the objects on the screen.

Rob rationalized that the reason the train was taking so long must be because of the "ERR.." message on the screen. He also figured that given that the door was open, some fucker probably fiddled with the buttons and caused this error.

He also figured he could fix it. Already, he was starting to formulate some rudimentary ideas on what this could be. However, given his excitable, ADHD nature, it was going to take some time for him to properly focus and actively think on this. And thus give you a hint.

He also figured that he probably shouldn't touch it. Maybe just dial 411 on his phone and get the proper mechanic to fix it. Who knows how long that will take, thought! Considering that Robert was in Lancaster and the Lakeshore Port and Transit Authority's HQ was in the capital district, it was going to take at least 15 minutes for a car to drive her, but if one of the bridges were up, that could easily go as high as 45 minutes.

Of course, this "ERR.." could be nothing and maybe he just needed to bare the cold weather wait. He knew how excitable he was and this could just be the MagRail running late.

A) Wait another 10 minutes, just to be safe.
B) Call 411 and get the Port and Transit Authority (15-45 minutes.)

(The C's.)
---(C1)Press the Red Button (1 minute).
---(C2)Press the Blue Button (1 minute).
---(C3)Press the Green Button (1 minute).
---(C4)Press the Orange Button (1 minute).
---(C5)Press the White Button (1 minute).
---(C6)Look at it and think hard (3-6 minutes).

(D) Other..?
>>
No. 766645 ID: 2d1fb2

>>765973

A, B, and C6.

Rob might be a smart man, but cool heads prevail. He needs time to focus to know for sure what he's looking at - If he's still stumped after analysing the box, he can always wait a little longer to see if train arrives.

And, if Rob calls the transport authorities before he has a crack, he'll have a contingency plan if the train doesn't come and he can't fix the box. If he does, he'll be long gone before they arrive.
>>
No. 766824 ID: 7d8168

>>766645
Perhaps to expand on this... you probably ought to wait a few minutes to see if the train is just late, or if the a tech is already on the way, or whatever. While you're waiting, you might as well rack your brain for knowledge of what the heck these buttons and lights mean.

So in order, check your watch, then C6. Then, when you feel like you've got a good idea of what's going on, either wait the rest of 10 minutes for the train (if you think it's probably just late) or call the transit authority (if you think something's seriously wrong).

And then if necessary you can push some buttons while you're on the phone. Like if you fix the problem while you're still on hold you can probably just hang up right?
>>
No. 861127 ID: 328763
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861127

It had been ten minutes, but to Robert, it felt more like 581,760 minutes, give or take. He decided to just call, seeing as how the train wasn’t coming
After dealing with a maddening array of automated voices and button presses, he finally got ahold of a real voice.
“Can I help you?”
She did not sound too please to have answered a call. Robert took in a deep breath and put on his best I’m-a-calm-person-that-can-deal-with-life-without-getting-too-excited-voice, explaining the situation with the MagRail at this platform.
“We’ll send a repairman out to you right away, sir.”

“I think I can repair..” he was interrupted with a single mother’s sternness.
“Sir, do NOT press the buttons!”
“But I…”
“No, sir. No. We will have to report you if you attempt to work on the problem yourself.”
“Okay,” he felt like a deflated balloon, a squandered potential. Byes were had, and he hung up his phone before he felt the need to test the might of the bureaucracy.
>>
No. 861129 ID: 328763
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861129

At least it gave him time to think about the date! And just how bitter cold it was outside. Was it getting even colder? Fuck, he should have worn his long-johns.

Wait. He’s trying to get laid!

No one gets laid in long-johns! Long-johns were the least attractive underwear of all time and no one’s got pussy in them since the late 1800s, back when that shit was assigned, and people still died of old timey diseases like cholera, mumps, or lung cancer. Wait, is lung cancer the cancer they cured recently? Maybe? He’d have to ask his cousin Jeffery. Jeffery was cool. He was a nurse. Nurse-practitioner. Cold. Damn Cold. Phone said 10 degrees. That’s like -12 Celsius? Fuck, maybe he could MAKE long-johns sexy. He could be all like “Hey, honey. Wanna go prospect for gold at my place? I got plenty of shine and I can play a mean washboard.” No. No. Nope. 10,000 nevers. Not gonna work.
>>
No. 861132 ID: 328763
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861132

The train arrived, thank god. It had been 20 minutes in total and he seen not one repairman in that vast amount of time he spent shivering, pacing, and waiting. Perhaps it was further up the track or they managed to ‘press buttons’ remotely? He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he knew was the time, 8:21, with 39 minutes to spare before they met.

He climbed aboard the train and found himself standing in the middle, toward the middle. People had isolated themselves on either end of the train with their noses buried in some digital or paper distraction. The train ride was going to about 17 minutes total, barring any potential interruptions or a raised bridge and he knew that this entire time was going to be a bitch with his mind racing constantly and his body demanding movement. Not that this was going to happen with his date anyway, if he’s not careful.

(A) Try and talk to one of the train riders about the weather or something.
(B) Sit down and stare out the window, maybe?
(C) Give in and punch at the air for a while in the center of the train. The fuckers aren’t even paying attention anyway and you’re never going to see them again, so who gives a shit, ya know?
(D) Other..?
>>
No. 861133 ID: 33cbe7

C. Hum a few bars of Kung Fu Fighting while you do it.
>>
No. 861134 ID: 91ee5f

>>861132
(B) Sit down and stare out the window, maybe?

It’s the best way you can pay attention to what’s outside, so that you don’t miss your stop.
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