Ambrosia Software Web Board: Its Happy Hour! - Ambrosia Software Web Board

Come on in, all drinks are free, with a 20-round minimum. Enjoy the social company and be happy, and that means you too Slayer, stop scowling at me! Its not 'Pout and Glare at Avatara' hour, that's in another topic.

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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

Odd, this. A mod starting a spam topic? Tsk tsk tsk. What is Cythera coming to? Oh, wait, this is a susposed to be a happy hour...

*pretends to be happy*

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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

Ominous voice: This topic is a figment of your imagination, sprung from the large section of your brain devoted to boredom. Nothing here is exactly what it appears.

Not to mention, "hour" is the key word here.

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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

Right, an hour, so make the best of it. If you're lucky, maybe you'll get that other hour just afterwards, you know 'Pout and Glare at Avatara'... though, right, you're not the mod. Forget lucky then... let it be happy. We're all supposed to be happy, anyway...

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

How's this? One of us will pick 10 random words (out of an American dictionary), and the other will have to invent a short story encompassing them all, in order.

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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

Err, that could kind of defy the purpose of a 'Happy Hour', but oh well... insane will do, I guess

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

Tell me if you need any definitions:

1. morgue
2. privilege
3. crop-duster
4. dragon (you got lucky here )
5. saliva
6. orange
7. sandal
8. time-honored
9. brush
10. straw

Moonshadow, you're on the spot!
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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 08-28-2002).]

Moonshadow, can you translate your new sig? The translation from Systran seems suspect -
"I white probably, I am only one dreamer, who perhaps awakes one morning. But I scoff the day and I follow the star and I let myself kidnap into the night... - Silk & Lute "

Is that in any way right or did the computer mess it up totaly?

Thanks,
- Bryce

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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away from here, there used to be a little morgue. Now it was not an ordinary morgue, with corpses and all (though there were plenty of those, too), but the owner of the morgue had a special privilege: he had been granted the use of a great, metallic bird to defend his lands.
Most of the inhabitants of the little village nearby considered the creature to be very impressive, though to a present-day man it would have looked very much like a crop-duster, mainly because it *was* a crop-duster, equipped with all the tools commonly used for, you guessed it, crop-dusting, and don't ask me any stupid questions on how it got there.
But one morning, on a beautiful, bright day, change swept over the village in the shape of a huge dragon, saliva dripping from its fangs, the orange body glisteneing in the sunlight. The villagers, immensely and understandably scared by the creature, ran to ask the owner of the morgue for help.
Full of faith in his metallic bird, the man declared he'd willingly help the people, if they'd just provide him with a new pair of sandals, and they agreed.
To cut a long story short, the crop-duster was squashed, the time-honored morgue was destroyed by the raiding dragon, and up to this day, you can still find the owner's brush in the dragon's hoard, right next to the little bale of straw that it uses for flossing its teeth.

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

[This message has been edited by Moonshadow (edited 08-28-2002).]

And here are my 10 random words:

1. refectory
2. falsification
3. lumbermill
4. fragile
5. bone
6. reshuffle
7. heap
8. ointment
9. molehill
10. unsleeping

Good luck, Avatara

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

My sig, my sig, my sig... yeah, sure I can translate it, if not quite literally.
"I know well I am just a dreamer, who'll perhaps wake up one morning. But I scoff at the day, and I follow the star, and I let myself be snatched away by the night."
Silk & Lute are the bards who wrote this (it's part of a song), and yes, they're really bards, they perform on Life (Action) Roleplaying Games.
It sounds way better in German, I think...

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

Meh, I can't believe I'm actually posting in a 'spam topic'... there goes my reputation...

[edit]Oh well, it's fun ^^[/edit]
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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

[This message has been edited by Moonshadow (edited 08-28-2002).]

Jim yawned, he was getting tired of waiting in line to be served at the refectory, and he was hungry. He had been waiting for two hours and still was far back in the line. He stared at the menu, made of magnetic letters stuck on a board hanging on the wall outside of the hall. Feeling bored, he began erasing several words and replacing them with creations of his own. He admired his work, feeling amused at the falsification he had just created. After all, what kind of a lunchroom would serve baked mud and lumbermills?

Feeling confident he would get away with his crime, he finally grabbed his meal and chose out a place in the dining hall. He placed his tray on the table and sat down - only to have the fragile chair collapse under him. Finding himself sprawled on the floor, he examined the parts of the broken chair. For some reason it was made of a hard white substance - it was made of bones!

Jim felt some divine being was punishing him for messing up the lunch menu, and he ran back outside, in an attempt to fix it. Unfortunately, he found that the stack of extra alphabitized magnetic letters had been reshuffled - by someone! He fumbled through the stack of a hundred magnets, trying to find the ones that would help him reconstruct the menu, when his fingers slipped and they all fell into a hopeless heap on the floor.

Terrified he would be caught and punished, Jim took off running down the hall and out the doors. He ran down the sidewalk, away from the dining hall, and would have escaped to his parked car, had he not slipped on a puddle of ointment and fallen headfirst into a molehill.

The unsleeping gardener, always at work on the yard, noticed Jim lying facedown on the ground doing something with the school's prized molehill. He paniced and called the police, and Jim was arrested for "indecent exposure to the innocent creatures of the underground."

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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 08-28-2002).]

[This message has been edited by Avatara (edited 08-28-2002).]

Moonshadow's was better overall... but I loved the last line on yours, avatara.

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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

1. meander
2. burrow
3. raspberry
4. hairball
5. sham
6. swizzle stick
7. daisy
8. spandex
9. notation
10. victim

Who's next?

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"I hate that! Your answers are always short, precise, and utterly useless!"
"Yes."

I am. Give me a break about this. This is soooo dumb, and the worst thing is, there's nothing better to do.

Once upon a time, there was an evil murderer. He wasn't evil, I just like that word. He was bad at his job, but he was good at loitering. One day, this evil/not evil murderer was loitering. He was loitering, because his dad always told him not to meander. This guy was loitering around the local grocery market. It was raining, so he decided to loiter under an overhang. He was rather dumb, as this overhang was metal. The evil/not evil murderer decided to leave before the police came. He didn't have a house, so he decided to stick his head in the local gopher's burrow and hope no one would notice his butt. Like I said, this guy is dumb. He, was cold, even when he stuck his head in the burrow, because his nose was rasberry red. He grabbed the nearest hairball, which happened to be nice and warm, and put it around his nose. The hairball happened to be the gopher. The gopher bit the stupid guy on the nose, and the neighbors notified the police as the "Gopher-Nose Sham." The guy quickly pulled a swizzle stick out of his pocket, and shoved it up the gopher's nose. Then, the guy took a big whiff, and I can tell you, the smell he smelt was not a daisy. The guy wrapped the terrible smelling gopher into his spandex and ran off, as the police were rounding the corner. The police caught him, and in their notation, it is claimed by this guy that he was the victim in this accident.
Police Report #197382465 "The Gopher-Nose Sham."

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Darn! I was going to say something witty!

Make up a list of ten random words eh?
Pencil
Hamster
Doorknob
Brick
Goat
Telephone
Book
Poster
Fish
Cup

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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

[OoC] Who cares if the hour is over. Well, here goes. [BiC]

A long time ago, before your grandfather’s father was even alive, there was a small pencil. It was short from long years of use in the veterinarian’s office, and it was painted yellow.

Now, on this particular day, the secretary was sick, and Pencil was not being used very much. So it was very bored. Unfortunately, there is not much a pencil can do to cure boredom. So it rolled over and over until it fell off the edge of the desk. That’s a long drop for a pencil!

Pencil kept rolling and rolling, all the way into the room where the hamster cages were kept. The hamsters watched as Pencil rolled past. They pointed and stared, because a pencil had never come rolling along on the floor before. But Pencil ignored them and kept on rolling to the end of the room.

But then it had to stop, because the door was shut. There was no way Pencil could reach the doorknob. Pencil sighed to himself. Sometimes it was so frustrating being a pencil!

Pencil looked towards the walls, but they were solid brick. It couldn’t get through there either. But then Pencil heard a noise behind him. It rolled over and looked back down the room, just in time to see a goat running straight towards him!

The goat barrelled through the room, frightening all the hamsters. It ran right over Pencil and through the door. You see, Pencil did not know that the door had not been latched. So the goat passed him, and Pencil kept rolling on happily.

It rolled into another, smaller office, where it had never been before. Pencil looked up at the desk looming above him, and then the telephone rang! Frightened, Pencil leaped nearly an inch into the air.

A secretary was sitting at the desk, and she answered the telephone so quickly that a book fell off the desk. The book fell right on top of poor Pencil. It squirmed back and forth, trying to get out from underneath, but to no avail.

Soon the secretary finished talking on the phone and she leaned over and picked up the book. She saw Pencil lying there. Surprised, the secretary picked up the short yellow pencil too and laid it on the desk.

Pencil could see a lot from up on the desk, including a poster on the wall with animals. One of the animals was a fish in a cup. Pencil would have laughed if it could. But then he remembered that he was on the wrong desk, and suddenly became nervous. So he rolled off the desk, back through the doorway, back past the hamsters, and into the room where he lived.

And that concludes a day in the life of a Pencil. Thank you for your time.


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A sense of peace fell over me as I watched the sunrise from my room...then I realized my window faces west.

Oops, forgot the new words...okay, here they are-

manual
tundra
epitaph
design
cow
generic
shade
jade
pageant
elderberry

Have fun.

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A sense of peace fell over me as I watched the sunrise from my room...then I realized my window faces west.

Joe found a manual on the tundra for epitaph design using images of cows and a generic shade of jade green, then he went to the pageant of elderberry to relax.



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"If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say this or that even, it never happened—that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture and death." - 1984
[url="http://"http://www.danicsoft.com/"]http://www.danicsoft.com/[/url]
(note the freaky registration date)

Ring
Star
Spam
Envelope
Isotope
Communicator
Cheese
Tapioca
Screenshot
Fuzzy



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"If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say this or that even, it never happened—that, surely, was more terrifying than mere torture and death." - 1984
[url="http://"http://www.danicsoft.com/"]http://www.danicsoft.com/[/url]
(note the freaky registration date)

Once upon a time, a yound fellow named Bob found a Ring with a Star on it in his can of Spam.
He took an Envelope and wrote to his mother about the find. Unforunatly, the ring was made of a radioactive Isotope and functioned as an alein Communicator when worn.
It summoned three space monsters to his planet. The cretures looked like old Swiss Cheese and ate a Tapioca-like substance. Naturaly, Bob tried to take a Screenshot of them when they contacted him by video phone, but it came out Fuzzy because of the poor-quality alein compression algorithm.




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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

Engine
Robot
Spoon
Meerkat
Disc
Bubble
Deep
Glove
Navel
Blue


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In general, what exactly makes a game good isn't that easily
quantified - perhaps the absense of things that make it bad? - Words of Wisdom from Glenn Andreas
     
Where do you want to [url="http://"http://www.macclassics.com/cythera/tricks/rJade.htm"]teleport[/url] today?

Broken.
Undoubtedly broken.
And at the worst possible time, too.
Scotty muttered a heartfelt curse, wondering whoever had managed to damage the engine that effectively. He'd spent a good long time - at least twenty minutes - with its construction, thinking that the new engine would increase the effectiveness of the robot. The metal man was supposed to be a replacement for the hapless - and as usual unnamed - Ensign who had died on their last mission, saving the captain. But the robot wasn't even able to perform simple actions, such as lifting a spoon...
Thinking of which, Scotty heard his stomach rumble. Time to eat something... hopefully the meerkat they had picked up on Sigma Centauri IX - a gift from the lovely Princess Manadhi, to express her eternal gratitude to Captain Kirk for saving her people (so how had it ended up living in *his* quarters?!) - hopefully it hadn't blocked the replicator mechanism again.
Scotty clearly remembered the last time that had happened, and how he'd spend the better part of the evening trying to extricate a small disc from the complicated machine. He'd been really close to skinning the creature alive then - he probably would have, too, but the sudden (yet absolutely expectable - something just *had* to happen this episode) attack of a Romulan Warbird had destroyed the shiny bubbles of his dreams of revenge even more quickly than the shields, and for the next five minutes, Scotty had been too busy fixing the warp engine to mind the deep scratches on his hands.
So as he cautiously approached his quarters he pulled on the gloves he had borrowed from McCoy, prepared to snatch the meerkat by its navel, if need be.
The following fight with the beast was mercifully short, earning him only a few bruises and a long lecture by Mr. Spock - after all, he really should have known that this special kind of meerkat reacted to gloves like a bull to red cloaks. Everybody who had read Prof. Dr. Miller's essay on the Centaurian Meerkat, published at Stardate 1854.297 in 'Modern Zoology and Science', submitted at Stardate 5317.25 by Prof. Dr. Miller's assistant Dr. Blue, written on Space Station III at Stardate 7221.642 , knew that.

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute

[This message has been edited by Moonshadow (edited 08-29-2002).]

Ok, new words:

1. gulf
2. incite
3. rotary
4. cake
5. maintenance
6. counsel
7. cubical
8. inaudible
9. thief
10. polecat

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Ich weiß wohl, ich bin nur ein Träumer, der vielleicht eines Morgens erwacht. Doch ich spotte dem Tag und ich folge dem Stern und ich lass mich entführen in die Nacht...
- Silk & Lute