>>35024811
>[] Write-in
>Grab our guitar, and strum a few tunes. See if we lost or gained anything from our trip to heaven.

>>35024811
Twitter (for runtimes, not my political opinions): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive (for reading when you feel blue): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Rock+Quest

STATS:

ROCK OFFS WON/CHALLENGED: 0/1
DEMON SCHLONGS SEEN: 1/???
AFTERLIFE EXPERIENCES: 1/???
ALIGNMENT: TRUE ROCK - "Rock is worth doing."

>>35024811
This >>35024843

>>35024811
>[X] Go back to sleep
The one thing I learned while working in the medical field. It's always good, no matter if you're the patient or the practitioner.

>>35024811
You want to try out your guitar, apply everything you've learned in the past few hours, but it's all the way across the room, and you're hooked up to these machines with glowing lights, and an IV on a stand. You wiggle experimentally, and decide that, even if you're pumped full of the Good Stuff, you could probably make it to your guitar, and maybe wheel the IV stand along with you, but the other wires and stuff will have to go.

>[] OBTAIN GUITAR
>[] BE A GOOD BOY

>>35025031
>PRIEST! I REQUIRE MY GUITAR!

>>35025031
"ANYONE, I WISH TO HOLD MY GUITAR IN MY BED"

>>35025071
+1

>>35025031
>[] OBTAIN GUITAR

Take the IV bag with us, fuck the pulse monitor and shit.

>>35025071
Seems like a good plan.

Hmm... maybe...

>PRIEST! I REQUIRE MY GUITAR!
>ALSO THANKS FOR SAVING MY LIFE, TOO. YOU TWO ARE THE BEST BANDMATES EVER.

>>35025166
This. Gotta give respect where respect is due.

File: brendan_fraser_laugh.gif (2.03 MB, 304x226)

2.03 MB GIF

>>35025166
I love this

>>35025166
>thanking him
>for dragging us back out of heaven

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134 KB JPG

>>35025188
We've still got work to do

>>35025188
Dragging us out of Heaven and back to the Land of the Living, dude.

It's hard to save Rock 'n Roll when you're dead.

>>35025188
If Rock n' Roll Jesus wanted us there, we would be there. Have some faith in the power of Rock.

Also, if there isn't a Brutal Legend reference somewhere in this quest, I'll be disapointed.

>>35025216
How the fuck did you know what I was listening to?

>>35025227
>TFW I still haven't played that game.

>TFW I will never buy it because there is always that shiny new game that was just released and poor Brütal Legend is old news.

>>35025241
It is never unlikely that a random fa/tg/uy is listening to The Megas or The Protomen

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>>35025241
What, The Protomen?

Or just the normal Soundtrack?

>>35025188
>Choosing the easy respite of death over the Duty to ROCK.

>>35025031
"PRIEST," you call out, "I REQUIRE MY GUITAR!"

The two figures in the chair stiffen and jump, shocked awake. Before you can blink, the priest has flipped out his knife, and stares around the room with bloodshot eyes.

Rough night, huh.

"Also," you say, "thanks for saving my life. You guys are the best bandmates ever." The priest relaxes and puts the knife away.

"I suppose you want your guitar back," he says, as he heaves it at you. It lands heavily across your chest, sending a slight twinge through your wounds. Upon closer inspection, you realize that it's practically caked with dried blood, and a few chips of bone are stuck in the dark, clotted masses.

Other than that, it seems undamaged. Blood flakes off of the tuning keys as you tighten them.

"Do you feel ok?" the DJ asks, "they said you died on the operating table."

>[] Never better
>[] Everything seems gray here
>[] What happened while I was out?
>[] Write-in

>>35025547
"I DIED, INDEED."
"HEAVEN SHOWED ME IT'S ROCK"
"BUT I DECIDED THEN PRIEST, THAT WE ARE DESTINED TO OUT-DO EVEN THE ANGELS THEMSELVES"

>>35025304
True, I was just surprised to see an image with the lyrics to the very song I was listening to at the moment.

>>35025325
>he thinks there's hope left for man

The Megas, actually. There are only a couple of Protomen tracks I can listen to without getting sad, and sad isn't a good mood for this quest.

File: Don't touch me.gif (2.44 MB, 512x288)

2.44 MB GIF

>>35025547
>[] Everything seems gray here

>>35025589
>True, I was just surprised to see an image with the lyrics to the very song I was listening to at the moment.
I'm watching you sleep

>[x]What happened while I was out?

>>35025547
I'd say "never better", but these wounds hurt like a bitch.

>>35025547

>>35025583
Nice answer. I support.

>>35025547
>[] Everything seems gray here

>>35025583
This, but maybe without the screaming. They might think there's something in the meds.

>>35026013
Well, the accountant probably got either morphine (which can produce all sorts of weird psychical effects) or Ketamin (which can cause bad trips). Granted, Fentanyl and Dippy shouldn't cause anything like that, and at least Fenta would be an option.
But yeah, should they assume that, they probably wouldn't be that far off.

>>35025547
"I'd say 'never better', but the wounds still hurt a bit," you say, as you twist the dials to break the dried blood off of them, "and everything looks kind of gray here." The wound's don't hurt too much, but you're pretty sure you need to thank the IV for that.

"It's four in the morning," the priest says, smiling, "of course everything looks gray."

"What happened while I was out?" you ask, a small rain of black flakes falling onto your bed's white sheets.

The priest and the DJ take turns explaining the aftermath of the concert. "I'm pretty sure they were going to sacrifice the audience," the priest finishes, "but I don't know if they succeeded."

"Well," you say, sitting up in your bed, "that sniper succeeded in sending me to Heaven, if only temporarily. I've learned things. Heaven showed me its rock. But I'm pretty sure we can outdo even the angels themselves."

You pause, and look deeply into each pair of tired eyes.

"You're the best bandmates ever, after all."

>[] Go back to the concert venue and hope you've not too late
>[] 4 AM hospital jam session
>[] Turn your back on the city
>[] Write-in

>>35026100
>[x] 4 AM hospital jam session

>>35026100
>>[] Go back to the concert venue and hope you've not too late

>[x] Go back to the venue, we've got a concert to finish
>[x] DON'T TURN YOUR BACK ON THE CITY

>>35026157
This.

>>35026100
>[] Go back to the concert venue and hope you've not too late

>>35026100
>You guys should sleep a bit more, you've earned it.

>I'll try to keep watch, I've slept enough.
>Play soft riffs and calm songs, lull them into a restful sleep -they'll probably need it.

>>35026100
>[] Go back to the concert venue and hope you've not too late

>>35026098
There's no time. If you had any doubts before, they're gone now.

"I'm going back in," you say, pulling the IV bag off its holder and threading it onto one of the over-engineered tuning keys, "you don't have to come with me."

You pull off the finger oxygen monitor, and rip away your chest electrodes. The monitoring machines start whining, showing flat lines. They think you're dead.

That's about as far from the truth as they could be.

"I'm coming," the DJ says, a small smile on her face, "it's not like I'll ever see a bigger stage."

"I'm the one with the car keys," the priest says, grinning as he watches you lever yourself out of the bed, "so I guess I've got to come too."

If life is pain, this is the most alive you've felt in hours. The IV bag sloshes on the end of your guitar's neck as you sling the instrument in front of yourself.

Then you're out in the hallway, bare feet on cold linoleum. Why are hospitals always so cold? It's like they try to make them unpleasant.

There's a nurse hurrying down the hallway toward you, probably in response to your apparent death. A thickset young man, with dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm sorry sir," he says, as he stops in front of you, "but your wound hasn't healed - you're only standing because of the painkillers. You're going to have to get back in your bed and rest."

>[] Talk your way past
>[] Rock your way past
>[] Club him down with your guitar
>[] Recruit him - you don't have a roadie, and there's probably someone else on call too
>[] Write-in

>>35026601
>[] Recruit him - you don't have a roadie, and there's probably someone else on call too
Eddie Riggs pls

>>35026601
>Recruit him as you walk your way past.

>>35026601
>[] Recruit him - you don't have a roadie, and there's probably someone else on call too

File: NoHeroes.jpg (13 KB, 200x276)

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>>35026629
>>35026643
>>35026665
>trying to drag an on-call nurse away from their station

>>35026601
>[] Talk your way past

>>35026601
>[] Recruit him - you don't have a roadie, and there's probably someone else on call too

>>35026601
>>[x] Rock your way past
Damn I missed the start of the quest

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>35026601
>Rock your way past
>Try to recruit him.

>>35025289
>Not just pirating it
For old games, it's okay. Not to mention the gameplay isn't that great. Designs and worldbuilding make up for it, though.

>>35026887
I don't know how to pirate it bro.
It would be so much easier if it were a PS2 game...

It would be so much easier if I didn't live trapped in Banana Republic with all those Commie HUE idiots

>>35026948
I have a torrent. Let me upload it somewhere.

>>35027003
Cool. PC version?

>>35026601
"There's somewhere I have to be," you tell him, staring into his cool blue eyes, "something I have to do."

"And that something is laying down and letting your body heal itself," the nurse tells you, "They tell me you died once on the operating table - you're going to die again if you try doing anything."

"I'm on a mission from God," you say, and walk past him. He tries to grab you, but the priest grabs his wrist.

"I'm afraid he's right," the priest says, with that wide grin on his face, "you can't stop him. But if you want to make sure he stays healthy, why don't you come along with us?"

You keep walking down the hallway, afraid that if you stop moving you'll never be able to start again. The DJ is keeping pace with you, supporting you. Behind you, you can hear the priest and the nurse arguing quietly, but they're keeping up, so whatever the priest is saying must be persuasive.

You trudge the rest of the way to the car in an uncomfortably numb haze. At least the walls aren't swimming, but you feel that if you weren't paying quite so much attention, the floor would sneak up on you from in front. Your hands feel like two balloons.

After a seeming eternity, you collapse into the back seat of a big car. It smells like a slaughterhouse in here, and you're dimly aware of the nurse whining about something on the passenger eat. Then you're rolling out.

>[] Drift off - you need all the rest you can get
>[] Force yourself to stay awake - you need information and a plan
>[] Write-in

>>35027090
Yep. Here, this should work:
http://www.mediafire.com/download/1ns3okaq018xkvp/Brutal_Legend_win_2013-04-28.zip.torrent

>>35027178
>[] Force yourself to stay awake - you need information and a plan
breathing exercise, because why the hell not?

>>35027182
Many thanks, you are a kind and Elegan/t g/entleman.

>>35027178
>>[x] Drift off - you need all the rest you can get

>>35027178
> Force yourself to stay awake.
If we fall asleep we'll be out for a day or two.

>>35027178
>[] Force yourself to stay awake - you need information and a plan

>>35027289
Pretty sure the priest will slap us until we wake up once we get to where we're going.

>>35027178
>[] Drift off

>>35027225
Just doing my bit to ensure good games get played. Tell me if the download doesn't work or something.

>[x] Stay awake. Plan
It's entirely possible we fled the state trying to get away. If we've got time....
> [x] drift off

>>35027321
Still, thank you.

Unfortunately, I'll need to download a program to download the torrent, but soo enough I should be able to witness the Lwgend of Eddie Riggs.

>>35027178
>[] Force yourself to stay awake - you need information and a plan

>>35027178
This won't do at all. If you drift off now, you'll be too groggy to do any good once you arrive at the concert. You start to pay close attention to everything, lest the world slip away from you. The stitching on the leather seats, the charnel-house stench of whatever got left in the front passenger seat, the device the DJ is assembling across the backseat from you - these are your fragile anchors to reality.

The honking horns, squealing tires, and, eventually, police sirens, caused by the priest's reckless driving are cords binding you to consciousness. Finally you're out of the city proper, hurtling down a deserted road toward the concert venue, sirens melting into the distance.

You can see the priest's thousand yard stare, lit by the glow of the dashboard lights, reflected in the windshield.

"Rockers selling their souls to Satan was never a really big deal," he says, to the world in general. You feel that if anyone responded to him, he'd stop talking.

"It's just one soul, and it's their soul. The problem comes when they sacrifice their audiences, who didn't sign up for it. There was a legendary battle of the bands in Sweden, ten years ago. A metal festival. Behind the scenes, they'd arranged for the losers, and the audience, to be sacrificed at the finale, so the winner could attain the greatest rocking power man had ever known."

"Sounds metal as fuck," the nurse mutters. The long stare vanishes from the priest's eyes, and he resumes driving in silence.

You can see a cloud of darkness reaching up into the night sky ahead of the car, a twisting, churning mass reaching as far up as you can see. You assume its base is over the concert venue you'd played at last night.

It's the best fog machine you could ever wish for.

>[] Make plans (Write-in)
>[] Ask about the DJ's device
>[] Ask the nurse what he can do
>[] Rummage through the car for anything you can find
>[] Write-in

>>35027930
>>[] Ask about the DJ's device

>>35027930
>>[] Ask the nurse what he can do
>[] Ask about the DJ's device

>>35027930
>>[x] Ask the nurse what he can do
>>[x] Rummage through the car for anything you can find

>>35027930
>[] Ask about the DJ's device
>[] Ask the nurse what he can do

>[x] Ask about the DJ's device
Nurse is maybe useful if he's throwing around "metal as fuck"
>[x] Ask nurse what he can do

>>35027930
"So," you ask the DJ, "what are you working on?"

"A portable instrument," she says, and holds it out for you to examine. It looks like an amalgamation of an old Gameboy, a short segment of a keyboard, half a computer's work of spare parts, and a squid of audio input and output cables, held together with duct tape and dreams.

It's beautiful.

"Looks good," you say, "can't wait to hear how it sounds."

"I can't either," she says, putting it back in her lap and picking her screwdriver back up.

"So what do you do?" you ask the nurse, who had turned around to take a look at the device himself.

"Drugs, mostly," he says with a grin, "for other people, of course, and only the prescribed ones."

"Any musical experience?" you ask. It's probably too much to hope, but it would be nice.

"Played some rhythm guitar for a garage band back in high school," he says, "thought we were gonna be a big deal. It didn't go anywhere, and the band kinda fell apart, but I've kept practicing."

"Angus Young's guitar is in there somewhere," you say, gesturing at the ever-larger ominous cloud, "already hooked up to an amp. You want to play it if we find it?"

"Sure," he says, "although I don't have a clue what's going on."

Well, there's not much time to explain. The car is rapidly closing in on the venue, or at least where the venue was. All you can see now is a titanic cloud, an inverted funnel, rotating and twisting, sitting where you played the concert last night.

And you're still wearing a hospital gown.

>[] Rummage for clothes - he's heard enough, or he'll figure it out pretty fast
>[] Explain - a hospital gown's enough clothing for a rock god
>[] Write-in

>>35028633
>>[x] Explain - a hospital gown's enough clothing for a rock god
We make anything look good.

>>35028633
>It looks like an amalgamation of an old Gameboy, a short segment of a keyboard, half a computer's work of spare parts, and a squid of audio input and output cables, held together with duct tape and dreams.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QJma5wswj00

YES. YESSSSS
[x] Rummage for clothes - he's heard enough, or he'll figure it out pretty fast

Something knife and bulletproof. Also fireproof.

>>35028633
>[] Rummage for clothes
>[] Explain

>>35028745
>[] Have the Cake
>[] Eat the Cake

I know I do a lot of "there's a tie, let's do both" writing, but there's a time constraint this time.

Do you trust this young man's ability to pick it up as he goes along, or do you trust your hospital gown and your bare feet?

>>35028633
>[] Rummage for clothes - he's heard enough, or he'll figure it out pretty fast

>>35028633
>>[] Rummage for clothes - he's heard enough, or he'll figure it out pretty fast
Lets get this show on the road.

>>35028633
You figure that between the priest's little forgetful speech earlier and what he's about to see, the nurse is going to get the picture pretty fast. And you're not going to fight demons in a flimsy hospital gown.

You want shoes at least.

You're awake enough to go rummaging under seats, but you're not sure you have it together enough to talk coherently while you do it. You turn up a pair of black suit pants, durable (but decent looking) shoes, and a long black coat. It's got a heavy feel to it, as if it's made of something more solid than a normal coat, and there's a bump in one of the pockets.

You pull the pants up under your hospital gown, a feat made easier by the roomy backseat. You decide to dispense with the gown entirely - it'll only get in your way. Speaking of getting in the way, the IV prevents you from putting your arm through the coat's sleeve.

You decide to drape it from your shoulders - that should provide a little protection from the cold, at least.

The cloud swallows the road thirty yards ahead of you. There's no way to tell what's inside, what the car could run into. Of course, you don't know what effect it'll have on unprotected flesh either.

>[] Tell the priest to drive into the cloud
>[] Tell everyone to get out - you're going in on foot

>>35029357
>>[x] Tell the priest to drive into the cloud
The car will be handy if we need to bowl over some mooks.

>>35029357
>[] Tell the priest to drive into the cloud

>>35029357
>[] Tell the priest to drive into the cloud

>>35029357
(1/2)
"Alright," you say, pulling the coat around yourself, "drive us into the carwash."

The priest punches the gas, throwing caution to the wind. Evidently they teach exorcists that, if you've got to go up against something big and supernatural, you need to be going fast. Before you can catch your breath, you're inside a roiling, screaming mass of dark wind. It's even more like a malevolent carwash than you'd thought it would be.

Then, suddenly, it clears. The car shoots out into nothingness, plunging over a cliff, tumbling down. You see a confused kaleidoscope of flames, screaming faces, speakers, and dark, winged beings out of the window.

You're so glad you're wearing a seatbelt.

The car's heavy engine block plows into the soil at the bottom of the pit, anchoring it like an oversized lawn dart. A deep beat throbs endlessly under a constant assault of piercing chords, played on an instrument that sounds like it has spikes all over it. You think you can hear the ghost of an orchestra drawing the bow somewhere in the distance, but that's probably just your ears playing tricks on you.

You hear the car doors opening, and see the DJ leaping out the other side of the car, clutching her new instrument to her modest chest. You push open your own door, and jump to the ground, the big coat spreading out like a pair of wings behind you.

You land in red sand, stumbling forward, your chest tingling. The IV is probably dulling the worst of it, but your bandages are still white, so you haven't reopened the wound.

>>35030146
(2/2)
You're standing on a red sand dune, a car sticking into it nose-first behind you. You've got bandages wrapped around your chest, a coat hanging from your shoulders, and an IV in your arm, hanging from one of the tuning keys of your blood-soaked guitar. The wind plays with your coat, alternately hot and cold, depending on the direction it's coming from.

This isn't the concert venue you played last night.

This is the bottom of a deep pit. The sand walls are reinforced by tremendous racks and columns of the biggest speakers you've ever seen, each blaring the deep beat and piercing chords you started to hear as you fell into the pit.

You can't see across the pit - there's too much dust blowing, but you see winged figures flitting her and there, diving down to the sandy floor and flying up again with struggling, flailing prey. You see several knots of activity kicking up dust, cracks in the floor belching flame toward the sky, and half-built towers and ziggurats reaching for the sky, workers swarming on them like demented ants.

The you look up.

There's a red sun in the sky, an angry, flaming ball grudgingly shedding its dim light over the pit below. The sky is black. Blank. Hateful, like the polished marble floor you once cracked your head on as a boy.

This is not a place you were meant to be.

"What the fuck man?" you hear from behind you, and turn to see the nurse running at you, tearing at his hair, screaming nonsense. The priest is chasing him, but won't catch the nurse before he's on top of you.

Fuck.

Roll 1d100.

>[] Talk sense
>[] Dodge
>[] Club him with your guitar
>[] Rock him
>[] Write-in

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>35030639
>>[] Rock him

>>35030639
>>[x] Rock him
Beat sense into him with some righteous riffs.

Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>35030639
>Rock him

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>35030639
>[] Rock him

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>35030750
oh right my d100

Rolled 70 (1d100)

>[x] Rock him

>>35030775
Probably for the best.

>>35030639
Finally.

You finally get to play your guitar again. Sure, that shining heavenly fusion of chrome and ebony you played for a few hours was wonderful, but it wasn't yours like the demonbone-reinforced custom job is.

Your fingers easily find the proper frets and you strum a wall of sound at the running nurse. Nothing complicated, nothing riveting, just a simple, easy-listening chord progression. An alternative to the Hellish riff blasting over the speakers.

He stumbles, his hands slackening in their painful rummage through his hair. That' all the advantage the priest needs - he cannons into the nurse from the side, taking him down into the red sand.

You sing something about how fine things are, and how well they're going, just trying to calm him down as he struggles under the priest. The irony of playing such a song in this Hellscape isn't lost on you, but you keeping playing, hoping your music can get through to him.

Eventually the nurse calms down. He stops struggling, and the priest lets him up. You stop playing, apprehensive, but it doesn't look like he'll freak out again. You think you can hear the ghost of an orchestra somewhere, bowing out a tune saw by saw.

The nurse's ankle twisted when the priest took him down, though, so he won't be as much help as he could be. You hope he'll be able to walk it off.

The priest grins wide and says "welcome to Hell, kid."

>[] Head for the faint orchestral sound
>[] Head for one of the knots of activity sending up a dust cloud
>[] Head for the biggest ziggurat
>[] Write-in

>>35031445
>[] Head for the faint orchestral sound

>>35031445
>[] Head for one of the knots of activity sending up a dust cloud

>>35031445
Orchestra is going to lead to a bunch of demons that we probably don't want to deal with.

Ziggurat will probably have a similar effect.

>[X] Head for one of the knots of activity sending up a dust cloud

In theory, if we clear the dust cloud, we can clear the Hell out of the area.

>>35031639
Just to clarify, the dust clouds are the natural consequence of a lot of activity happening on the sand, stirring it up.

Seeing a dust cloud just means that there are a lot of things moving around on foot in that spot.

The red dust clouds inside are different from the 'malevolent carwash' cloud of darkness you drove through to get here. The ziggurats have a higher likelihood of being related to that.

>>35031445
>[] Head for one of the knots of activity sending up a dust cloud

Hopefully they're slaves, so we can free them and use the power of rock to inspire them to fight the Demonic Orchestra with us.

File: 1410059025759.jpg (60 KB, 432x361)

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>>35032201
Forgot my pic.

>>35031445
(1/?)
"Let's head for one of those dust clouds," you say to your band, "there's got to be something going on there."

As your band walks away from the car, it goes up in a huge fireball, sending a shock of heat against your back.

You plod along in a loose group, held back by the nurse's twisted ankle. He's bound it up with some supplies from the car. You can't decide whether the softness of the dunes makes them easier of more aggravating to walk on. Every so often, a cool breeze seems to find its way in from the cold New Mexico night outside, but hot wind blowing re dust is more common. You can't see the whirling darkness anymore - the only thing you can see above the pit is the shiny black sky, like a lid on this little world.

While you walk, you check the pockets of the coat. You guess it belongs to the tour manager - it looks like the kind of thing he'd wear. You come up with a familiar-feeling envelope.

Does everybody keep their cocaine solution in small bottles in envelopes with several disposable needles? The tour manager's bottle is labeled with its percentage in a scrawling, hurried hand. You stuff it all back in the coat - maybe it'll come in handy later.

You check your IV bag. It's still more than half full, although you dont' know how much time that buys you before your wound gets painful.

You start hearing screams as you get closer to the activity kicking up the dust cloud.

>>35032831
(2/?)
You look around at your comrades.

The DJ is trudging along, wearing a backpack that doubtless contains her 'portable instrument'. Sweat dampens her shirt where it's pressed against her body, forming odd dark patterns that collect dust from the racing air. She looks at you and gives you a slight nod.

The priest has a bandanna wrapped around the bottom of his face to protect him from breathing the dust. You bet he's got that fucking smirk on under it, though.

The nurse is lagging behind a bit, slowed down by his foot. He's carrying a first aid kit, which hopefully won't be needed. He's taken his shirt off because of the heat, and bound it turban-style around his head. You looks at his bulging arms and sculpted chest and wonder if he's been prescribing himself roids. There's a blurred pentagram tattooed on his shoulder - it looks like he got it before he bulked up. Still, that explains what happened earlier.

Well, you know what you've got to work with, but you're not yet sure what you're up against.

Demons, of course, but that's a broad category.

>>35032887
(3/3)
After a while, you finally close in on the dust cloud. The screams are louder now, guttural or shrill, eloquent or wordless, they're the pleas of people in pain, in distress. Calling out for someone, anyone, to save them.

A large sand dune stands between you and the source of the screams. Dust drifts over it, kicked up by whatever's happening on the other side.

>[] Climb it and look over the top carefully
>[] Charge over it, and down the other side
>[] Go around it
>[] Write-in

>>35032971
>[] Write-in
climb it and stand proudly, this could make a good album art

>>35032971
[x] This will probably be your hardest challenge. Walk without rhythm and we won't attract the worm.

>>35032971
>[] Climb it and look over the top carefully

>>35032971
Hm. Is it dark? If so, going too the top of the dune is a good Idea, since it makes for a good vantage point.

Unfortunately, we'd be very visible and vulnerable, especially because our clothes don't make good camouflage.

If tha Evil Sun up there doesn't illuminate the landscape very well then
>[] Climb it and look over the top carefully

Otherwise,
>[] Go around it

>>35032971
"We'll go up quietly," you say, "and just take a peek."

Your band spreads out in a line, and you walk up the hill in silence, until you're far enough up that it's smarter to crawl. The dim sun and the dust cloud should help conceal you.

You inch forward and look over the top of the dune.

You don't have words.
Well, there's always "horrible".

You're looking at a screaming, writhing mass of humanity, hemmed in on all sides by fast, deadly demons herding them like sheep, picking off any who try to break away. Other demons, with strange and terrible forms, are wading into the sea of people like elephants stepping into a children's pool full of kittens. Eating the living and the dead without distinction, taking their disgusting sexual pleasures with their victims, fuck, this isn't something you ever wanted to see.

And too many of those people look like they'd been yelling choruses back at you a few hours ago.

Fuck, you just signed on for the great rockers' personal vengeance on a few demons. Nobody ever said anything about getting dragged into shit like this.

You just wanted to be a rock star like the ones your fifteen-year-old self thought were cool.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

>[] CHARGE
>[] GTFO
>[] STAND UP AND ROCK
>[] I NEVER ASKED FOR THIS
>[] WRITE-IN

>>35033720
Also, you should roll a 1d100.

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>35033720
>STAND UP AND ROCK

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>35033720

>[x] STAND UP AND ROCK

I hope we have a healing tune or riot inciting tune, because this is not right.

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>35033720
>[] STAND UP AND ROCK

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>35033720
>[] STAND UP AND ROCK

LET US SHOW THEM THE WAY TO FREEDOM!
LET US INSPIRE THEM TO FIGHT!
WE WILL NOT FORSAKE OUR FANS!

>>35033928
Man am I glad I rolled before you. Nice sentiment, though.

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>35033720
>[] STAND UP AND ROCK

>>35033720
>ROCK LIKE THE GOD DAMNED LEGEND WE ARE
dice+1d100

>>35034100
>being this new

Read the sticky, son.

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>35033954
And I am damm glad I took that long to type that out.

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>35034131

>>35034296
Well fuckmuffins.

>>35033928
>>35034296
>>35034430

Dice Gods be trollin', business as usual.

>edgorgs return

Captcha is telling me a Demon called Edgorgs is coming back from hell

>>35033720
Fuck this.

You stand up on the crest of the dune, planting your feet in the sand, your eyes taking in the blasphemous wasteland of red sand and audio equipment, the demonic debaucheries, the monuments, the whole fucking mess.

Then you ROCK. Your hand slices across the strings, bringing sound into violent, pulsating being. Your face contorts in anger as you wring hate from your guitar. Anger at the wrongness of the world seethes from the strings, falling on the demons as lightning.

There are no words to this song. There are no words necessary for this song. This isn't some Bohemian piffle about music being a 'universal language' - there's simply no way anyone could mistake the hateful, jagged cadences and wrecked arpeggios for anything but a screed against reality itself.

Every eye is on you, except those scorched by the electric discharge of your wrath. Most of the lesser demons, the infernal sheepdogs, perish instantly, their bladed limbs spasming and twisting in their death throes.

The larger, more perverse forms note you only as a challenge. They turn their blighted bulks toward you, the crowd around them scattering, no longer herded together. The greater demons, beings of hatred stronger and older than yours, however bright its momentary flame, see your lightning as an irritation, a flashy challenge.

They're coming, they're coming for you, they're coming up toward the dune, the wave of sand and speakers poised above them, and you posing atop it.

They're coming, and you lightning, it does nothing.

>[] I NEED SCISSORS 61
>[] DROP THE BASS
>[] CLUB THEM DOWN WITH YOUR GUITAR
>[] COCAINE
>[] WRITE-IN

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>35034672
>[] DROP THE BASS

Yur turn to shine, DJ!

>>35033840
>>35033864
>>35034296
>>35034379

Since we've come back from Heaven, I'm taking the highest dice rolled, if the choice chosen involves rocking against demons.

>>35034672
Roll some 1d100s for this too.

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>35034672
>[] DROP THE BASS
WUB.

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>35034672
>[X] DROP THE BASS
Then the drums.
Then, as the final resort, cocaine.

>>35034672
>I need scissors 61
Haiku confirmed for MGS2 player. If that's the case, then my vote is...
>[]WRITE-IN: Play a song that will shake the demons down and tell your dj to back you up on it. Use rock to tell the story of how rock is the true king of Nature of both Earth and the Eternal planes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTQIogLBFBs

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>35034672
>[] DROP THE BASS

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>35034827

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>35034827
>implying Red Sun Over Paradise isn't more appropriate here

>>35034672
>[] I NEED SCISSORS 61

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>35034721
>If Hate won't work, use resolve!
> DJ! HELP ME OUT!

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>35034672
>DROP THE BASS

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>[x] I need scissors 61
WE ARE THE LA LI LU LE LO AND WE ARE HERE TO ROCK

bumpan

Rolled 6 (1d100)

"DROP IT," you yell on beat, "DROP THE BASS."

You see flashing scales out of the corner of your eye, and then the bass drops, right on the crest of the sand wave. Fifty half buried speakers come to life, and another hundred more erupt into sound under the surface of the sand.

The wave breaks, tons of sand pouring down on the demons, half burying them. Their movements become sluggish, bogged down by the weight of the ground itself.

Predators, on the verge of death.

The bass rumbles under your chords, backing you, building a complex, pounding beat. Dependable, like the rules of Nature itself, as you half run, half surf down the cascade of sand toward the demons.

Now your song has words.

It's less angry, a song about the law of the wild, a song about predators becoming prey, of hunting with one's life on the line, a song about the rules of Nature, the rules the demons have run afoul of.

Because they aren't the strongest anymore, and only the strong survive.

You can see fear in their eyes, you can see their tentacles and blasphemous appendages tremble ever so slightly, as they realize that their time has come to an end.

And you see something else out of the corner of your eye. The priest has a pair of the jagged, bladed arms of the lesser demons. He's holding them like a pair of scissors, running straight at the greater demons trapped in the sand.

Your fingers fly over the frets, and the DJ's strangely sculpted waveforms pulsate to a crescendo as he makes his approach.

"RULES OF NATURE!" you yell in unison as his improvised scissors rip through the demons, empowered by your music.

As the echoes die away, he drops to one knee behind them, a little out of breath, a demon's heart in his free hand. You're not sure if it's a trick of the light and the dust, but it looks like thin, red fibers are flowing into him from the defeated demons. He stands and crushes the heart in his fist, the blood splattering all over him, a grin on his face.

"We're done here."

>>35036072
If I didn't miscount, there were even votes for both the bass and the scissors.

It's been 8 hours, and I have to be awake tomorrow morning.

As always, it's been a fun run - thanks for playing!

Twitter (for runtimes, not my political opinions): https://twitter.com/HaikuDeluge

Archive (for reading when you feel nostalgic for the good old days when the accountant played in the middle of highways): http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Rock+Quest

I'll be hanging around for a little to answer any questions, and take any comments or death threats.

Rock Quest may run during the week next week - I'll announce it in advance on Twitter every time.

STATS:

ROCK OFFS WON/CHALLENGED: 0/1
DEMON SCHLONGS SEEN: 32/???
AFTERLIFE EXPERIENCES: 1/???
ALIGNMENT: TRUE ROCK - "Rock is worth doing."

>>35036154
>>DEMON SCHLONGS SEEN: 32/???
I have the feeling this will reach tripple digits before we even get to double on Rock offs won

Thanks for running

>>35036154
It's been a great thread. Slow, but great.

>>35036552
Yeah, speed was bad tonight.

I blame a combination of being tired from last night and being rear naked choked for five minutes after a fairly hard struggle earlier today. Apparently I'm bad at wrassling, but good at not being choked out.

Excuses, excuses, I know, but at least I have interesting excuses.

>>35036681
What sort of wrestling do you do?

Looking forwards to the next chapter.

>>35036762
Nothing fancy. There's a set of gloves at the church, and us guys will pull them out and have a round or two of "the only rule is don't punch/kick someone in the dick" on the grass after the service.

I'm really just trying to get used to hitting and getting hit, toughen up a bit. I'm skinny, though - I can dance around at arm's length all day, but grappling wrecks me.

This quest is metal as fuck and I'm thoroughly enjoying it, great job Haiku!