I wake up shivering again, autumn sun flashing in my eyes. It's only been getting colder. In a few weeks it will surely snow. I've never been homeless in a hail storm before. You never think you'll have lots of "firsts" at 43. First time eating something that looks fresh out of a garbage can. First time eating something that looks rotten out of a garbage can. First time getting beat up in an alleyway. First time begging in front of a corner store. First time begging in front of a mother and her- I want to stop. Remembering. Living. Everything. I'm dizzy, partly from the overwhelming recollection of my past and present. Partly from my shakes. Partly from the noisy New York City traffic I normally tune out effortlessly. I am in a foreign state of mind. I haven't seen a familiar face for some time, other than my bum friend, Toothless Jack. He's next to me, still tuning out the sunlight, car horns and brake drums screeching; fast asleep. I kind of envy his bum zen. Other than that and the fact that he's a good listener and a funny drunk, I don't really care for him too much. After four months of daily interaction, you can't help but notice peoples' flaws. For now, he's what I got.I rise to my feet and yawn, getting light-headed for a few seconds, then tingling the feeling off, numbness in my body returning to sentience. The never-ending shine of liberation through neglect, unemployment and bankruptcy begins to wane. Aluminum cans, plastic bottles and stuffed trash bags sound my rise to my feet. I feel like I could be spending my time better. >Well, Petey's Liquor and Snacks should be open by now. Time for another drink. Gotta kill this headache if I want to think properly about my future.>It's only getting harder to keep up this habit. Today is the day I seek help for my alcoholism.>This alcohol clearly isn't keeping me happy and "functioning" like it used to. Maybe I should try something else. (which activity or substance?)>Let's wake up Toothless Jack and see if he wants to get into some hobo hijinks today. Normally we split up at noon and meet around midnight, but sometimes we hang out. Er... We did it that one time at least, I'm pretty sure...>Attempt to rekindle relationships from my past (who? basically a write in)>Attempt to meet and befriend other hobos>Write in - ???
>>4762133>Attempt to rekindle relationships from my past (who? basically a write in)>An ad for library on a passing bus strokes your memory cricuits. Books. Never liked them much, but they were things you ought to have. There was a fella from high school... Nick? Yeah. Nick Miller. He was a real bookworm. Talked how he wanted to buy that old bookstore you used to pass by when you hung out those few times. Last you heard he actually did that. You think. Might have been a dream. It's the other side of town, but it's not like you have your schedule full either way. Maybe he could spare a lunch for old times sake if you ask nicely.
>>4762133>Write in - ???look for some kind of work, gardening or cleaning or whatever
>>4762133>It's only getting harder to keep up this habit. Today is the day I seek help for my alcoholism.
>>4762148Based detailed write-in. +1
>>4762133This: >>4762148>Well, Petey's Liquor and Snacks should be open by now. Time for another drink. Gotta kill this headache if I want to think properly about my future.Grab some booze on the way.
>>4762148supported like my father when i came out of the closet
>>4762148>>4762175>>4762203>>4762258>>4762325>>4762403>>4762497>>4762507"Reading matters." I mouth silently. A middle aged woman snuggled up on her couch, apparently reading Romeo and Juliet to the puppy in her lap. Wow.I can't believe the advertisement on the side of the bus stoked my memories so vivaciously. With a grin cracked on my face and a heel-clicking hop, I made up my mind to seek out Nick Miller. My days of being a worn out, lost passenger could be nearing their end. I was looking for a spiritual handout. Nick was a quiet kid back in Frederick High, always reading in the corner, speaking to no one unless spoken to. He didn't have it the worst, but he got made fun of pretty occasionally. I would talk to him when my other friends weren't around. Something about his serene voice, gentle eyes and the intelligence that streamed off him naturally kept me thinking about the loner even when we weren't in contact. It's been decades since I've talked to him, but I have a good feeling Nick stuck to his dream of buying Mr. Nedelman's Book Consignment Store. It was mentioned whenever we'd walk home together, it was just a block away from his brownstone on 111th St. I'm on, let's see... Street signs, street signs... I... am... on..! A-ha! 19th St.! This walk should only take a few hours so long as I don't get distracted. I make a beeline towards that side of town with a brisk hobo power-walk. I look absolutely maniacal, and dirty. It's NYC so most people don't have the temerity or the time to look a wild bum in the eyes. This works to my self-esteem's advantage. What I can't stand is the puppy dog eyes, all the sympathy, pity, hatred, contempt. Judgements made in a second. They don't know me. How I got to this point. Why I do what I do. I feel down on myself for a second until I realize I'm coming up on one of my favorite garbages on this side of town, it's in between a liquor store, a middle school and a hotdog vendor. Usually really good junk getting tossed in there. Found a switchblade once, but lost it last week when I blacked out from the Cuervo. I approach the garbage. I'm not a very dexterous bum, nor am I a long-term thinker. I can only grab one item from this can. It's also part of a hobo's honor to leave enough for the next bum if there is enough to go around. >Maybe I can impress Nick Miller with some of the literature in here!>Jackpot!! What kind of idiot leaves a half-drank 40oz in a brown-bag sitting right on top of the garbage like this? >These bits of hotdogs and Fritos scattered on top of the pile would make a perfect brunch for me. Score!>This mangy mutt has been sniffing my pant leg the whole time I've been rifling through this trash can. Maybe he needs the food more than I do today. >Gahdammit, this is all just junk! Normally this is my favorite trash can, too. Let's just get to that book store. And let's kick this dog for peeing on my pant leg. Everyone roll 1d100 along with your choice!
Rolled 3 (1d100)>>4762710>This mangy mutt has been sniffing my pant leg the whole time I've been rifling through this trash can. Maybe he needs the food more than I do today.
Rolled 71 (1d100)>>4762710>>This mangy mutt has been sniffing my pant leg the whole time I've been rifling through this trash can. Maybe he needs the food more than I do today.Never piss off a mangy mutt. It has nothing to lose and their bites are horrible.
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>4762710>This mangy mutt has been sniffing my pant leg the whole time I've been rifling through this trash can. Maybe he needs the food more than I do today.
>>4762799>>4762745>>4762741WritingSome quick notes: Aiming to update 2-4+ times daily. Dice rolls will be somewhat limited and I'll try to explain them beforehand (Last post was 3k chars, couldn't explain. using best of all rolls for this one, so 71)Don't be afraid to vote! Voting is always open until the corresponding update gets posted. Majority rules, tiebreaker dice rolls if deadlocked for ~6 hours. Hobo's Epic! Let's quest!
Rolled 32 (1d100)>>4762710>This mangy mutt has been sniffing my pant leg the whole time I've been rifling through this trash can. Maybe he needs the food more than I do today.
>>4762855>>4762799>>4762745>>4762741As I'm eyeing the bits of food, I can no longer ignore the spastic whimpering and pawing. "Alright, little buddy. You're lucky your mange is cute." I get on my knees and sit on my feet. I feed the psychotic, teenaged dog little bits of mayo-smothered bun and frank ends. I let him munch and lick the soggy Fritos out of my hand. He yaps his maw, licks his lips and wags his scruffy tail. I feel warm and excited. I stand up and stretch out my legs and back."Wanna come see an old friend with me, pal?" I ask the creature. It looks like El Chupacabra. I think that'll be his name. I begin walking down the street and motion to my little amigo. He waddles along behind me. I feel like I'm leading a parade marching band!It's been pretty mellow outside, not many people to worry about, but I'm coming up on 29th St. right now, and the foot traffic as well as car traffic is picking up. I begin to worry about El Chupacabra.>This doggy looks like a street champion. He can walk alongside me.>Craft a makeshift leash for the small dog.>Abandon El Chupacabra for now. Maybe we'll meet again?>See if someone in the park will adopt him.>Backtrack to Toothless Jack, see if he'll look after El Chupacabra while you meet Nick Miller.>Write in - ???
>>4762866>Craft a makeshift leash for the small dog.You just know this little bastard's gonna run into traffic and prompt a ZANY chase
>>4762866>This doggy looks like a street champion. He can walk alongside me.with or without us, this dog will end up without a leash. and if it managed to get this ugly and scrawny, then odds are it isn't that young and already knows cars = death
>>4762866>Craft a makeshift leash for the small dog.Should be able to find some loose cable in a trash can, maybe from an old phone charger. If we're lucky, rope would serve even better
>>4762866>This doggy looks like a street champion. He can walk alongside me.
>>4762866>>This doggy looks like a street champion. He can walk alongside me.
the dog is going to bring truble with the police.>>4762866>Abandon El Chupacabra for now. Maybe we'll meet again?farewell boy, may we meet in more favorable conditions
>>4763001>>4762998>>4762883>>4762882>>4762879>>4762868El Chupacabra is so old, he's gotta be a certified Big Apple legend. He doesn't need a leash. Just like me.We catch a few more eyes than I'm used to. These rubes must not be familiar with the visage of a confident free man, walking side by side with a free, magnificent beast. We own these streets!We make it to a corner of 33rd St.As El Chupacabra and I pass, a shady looking man calls out to me, "Hey, mister!" and begins approaching. My companion barks twice at him and starts growling.>Apologize for my dog and see what the man wants>Run away with El Chupacabra>Scream for help>Attack>Write in - ???
>>4763096>Write in - ???"Can't talk, busy. Maybe another time" then briskly walk away. Basically run away but slightly more tactful and less attention grabbing
>>4763096>Write in - ???>Crack out the most sincere smile you can muster and start talking about Jesus. Old trick you've learned from some other bums. Nothing makes people leave you alone like some good old fake religious zeal.
>>4763127+1can we make up a religion/conspiracy theory?
>>4763127Going to back this. Althoug, what does "shady" mean here? We're literally a homeless bum. We're so shady you can call us Slim Shady. Df.
>>4763096I'll switch my vote here >>4763119To this >>4763127
Pretty much unanimous on the nifty write in, update coming in 5-7 hrs. (At work, sorry)
>>4763127Bring up Reptoids. Always works.
>>4763119>>4763127>>4763241>>4763247>>4763543>>4763549>>4763560>>4763863"Hey!" the man repeats. "Mister!" He's in spitting distance now. Chupacabra continues growling. I decide to go with a tried-and-true tactic: the overzealous nutcase. It's an art, but after a few dozen successes back-to-back, I have begun to believe it foolproof when done right. I smile from ear to ear, my eyes bulge wide.I say: "Hello, my child. You look like a man who has lost his way.""Huh?" he responds with a wrinkled nose. "Are you living in sin? Have you heard the good word of Reptoid Jesus?" I smile as best I can and try to look in his eyes. This is usually the trick that gets people to walk away without another word. Not this guy. He brushes off the eye contact by closing his eyes. He tenses up."Mister, don't you mean Reptilian Jesus? Ugh... Don't tell me you're one of those inside agents for the Reptoids, trying to suppress our thought patterns and gamma waves! ... I- I'll have to... I don't know what I'll do! Gra-hrgh-aaaaaaah!!!! I hate Reptoids! Reptilian supremacy! GET OUT OF MY GAMMA RECEPTORS, REPTOID AGENT!" He closes distance and his spittle is blasting my face by the end of his spiel. I can see him turning red, and veins in his face and arms becoming more defined and protrusive. This guy is crazy as hell! He's right up in my face. His hand shoots into his pocket.>Continue using speech to de-escalate>Scream for help>Command El Chupacabra to do something (detail what, if you want to)>Attack! (detail how, if you want to)>Stretch my lips out and kiss this crazy man>Write in - ???
>>4764082>Write in - ???Run. Just run. He is the real nutcase around here. Preferbly run in the direction of a cop. Those boys in blue are your friends today.
Ah! The authentic NYC -experience!
>>4764157>>4764082But yeah. Lets run.
>>4764082+1 to >>4764109 let's schmoove
>>4764109+1 to dash probably has pocket sand
>>4764109>>4764242>>4764359>>4764392The crazy guy is scrounging around in his pocket like mad. I'm not sticking around to see what's coming out. I try to pick up El Chupacabra so I can run away with him, but the fucker bites me! "Gaaahh!! Son of a BITCH!" I stumble forth for a second, then right my balance. I look at my hand, there's a droplet of blood pooling up on my hand. Guess the dog's a little skittish, he's looking at me with confusion or distress or sorriness in his puppy dog eyes. I'm harried for only a second, though, and I turn my loss of balance into a stomp, into a jog, into a run, into a sprint. Halfway between the next street crossing, I look back. El Chupacabra is right on my heels, smiling a dog smile, with a stunted gallop that comes from malformed bones and wobbly joints. The shady man clearly wasn't ready for running, but he's still chasing us! He's about ten yards behind my dog and I. Whatever was in his pocket, he stopped pulling it out in order to chase me. He's got a hand up as if calling out to me or trying to get a grasp of me. "HEEEEee e e y y. y. . y. . . y....."His voice is withering in the distance, but I keep running like my life depends on it. I only stop at the crosswalk to avoid getting flattened by a sea of taxis. I've ran through even rush hour traffic before, but no way will I risk El Chupacabra running into the street with me, regardless of his street credentials. I'm huffing and puffing. I look at my hand after wiping it on my coat. The base of my thumb where El Chupacabra pierced my skin has stopped bleeding. I kneel down to gently approach and pat my friend's head. "Good boy! You were ready to shred that guy into ribbons! No more biting me, though, huh? Let's save it for the baddies!"
Now, thanks to my sprinting and animal conversations, I've drawn every set of eyes between the corner of 33rd and Hillcrest, all the way to the corner of 33rd and Grotten Ave. I had to run laterally, eastwards, to escape that guy, whoever he was. I re-orient myself and begin climbing the streets again. My breathing returns to normal as the green man in the box flashes in over the red glove. I self-identify greatly with the green men. Fuck red gloves. Fuck the electrical boxes that imprison them both.As I cross 33rd, I notice a peculiar man on the busy corner I'm walking towards. He's looking in my eyes, he must have been watching me for a few moments. Can't put my finger on it, but he looks familiar. He cracks a big cheesy smile. In a low volume but a high pitched tenor, I hear him poorly holding back his chuckles in between his words: "veddy good, veddy good... hyeeeh, hah, heh, veddy... veddy good... you... yes... heeyeh heh... veddy good...". He then coughs nastily into a moldy, garbled handkerchief, and returns to smiling in my eyes. >Stop and talk to him for a minute. (optional: write-in a conversation topic/question to ask)>Thank him and keep heading towards the book store.>Avoid the disheveled man. >Ask him to join your party> Write in - ???
>>4764433>Stop and talk to him for a minute. (optional: write-in a conversation topic/question to ask)Ask him about the strange ass dude that was chasing us. Has he seen him before? Does he know what that dude wants?
>write inTry and get a rabies shot at the local hospital
>>4764433>Ask him to join your partyshared exp is less exp, but wiping out is no exp at all
>>4764433Sounds like a jew. I hate Jews
Tiebreaker roll in 30 minutes if needed, still time to vote
>>4764436>>4764513>>4764623>>4764635>>4765299(Spilled beer on my keyboard... Phoneposting updates while a new keyboard ships, lol, also sorry for delay)This cackling guy seems friendly enough. I say thanks to his... compliment? and try to make sure I have his undivided attention by speaking loud, slow and clear. He tells me he name is Jon Yu. I say: "That man - chasing me," his smile disappears "do you know him?" A frown comes out. "Chesta... He like reptie-o... Froggie... Lizard..." He stares into space, distracted by a bad memory. "Reptie-o man...Eat the bugs... Reptie-o god..." He seems stuck in a distorted loop talking about reptiles, gods and that man, apparently named Chester.Judging by the lull in traffic and noise, it's about noon. I'm still committed to finding someone from my past, namely Nick Miller. I want to make sure there is plenty of daylight when I see Nick, Jon's cryptic words move me, however. Jon seems genuinely worried about something, then again, he may just be a vagrant with some mental health issues. He won't stop his worried mumbles.>Walk away while he's distracted by his own thoughts>Try to comfort Mr. Yu>Assure Jon that Chester will be brought to justice. (Jon Yu joins party)>Tell Jon to stay put, I'll go back towards Hillcrest with El Chupacabra, and attempt to find Chester.>Write in - ???
>>4765676poor Mr. Yu...>write in - Tell El Chupacabra to stay with mr. yu. Maybe he needs the companionship more than we do.
>>4766104+1. Let's keep moving to the book store, but El Chupacabra should stay with Yu
>>4766726>>4766317>>4766104El Chupacabra and I look at the babbling street urchin, then at each other, profound sadness in all 3 sets of eyeballs. Even the mangy animal wants to help Mr. Yu, it seems. "Ch-Chesta come back...H-he... Make me eat the bugs too..... Not again!!!!" Jon starts a distressed, tantrum-like panic, stomping in place and flailing his arms in hopeless desperation and exasperation. Tears well up in his besmirched eyes. "Jon don't wanna be a reptie-o!", he scream-shouts. Two thin waterfalls stream down the pocks and crags of the brown face. This is getting hard to watch. El Chupacabra is whining and scratching at my shoes. I have an idea."Hey, Jon?" I say, Jon looks in my eyes. "You don't have to worry about Chester any more. El Chupacabra here will be your new guard dog, how does that sound?" Jon and the dog are both a little shocked at first, but Jon begins smiling and laughing a heartier, more wholesome laugh than when I first met him. A tail wags. Mr. Yu kneels down to pick the dog up. "Wait! He might try to bite y-" I begin to warn, but to my surprise (and a little chagrin,) El Chupacabra licks Jon's face!A heartfelt moment passes. I tell Jon that hot dogs are El Chupacabra's favorite food, so he knows what to feed him. Then I begin to make my way to Nick. I hope I'll run into these two lovable knuckleheads again someday. As I go, Jon tugs at my sleeve, El Chupacabra under one arm, other arm outstretched to me. He wants me to take what is in his hand, I think.>Everyone roll 1d100! Up to the first 8 rolls will be used. I am evaluating the rolls as a range/set rather than an average, best of, et cetera, so the more rolls, the "better".
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>4766971N word
Rolled 90 (1d100)>>4766971
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>4766971
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>4766971I hope rolling high is good, lol
Rolled 2 (1d100)>>4766971
Rolled 74 (1d100)>>4766971
>>4767442Ahh how to roll
Rolled 87 (1d100)>>4766971
>>4767447>>4767442copy/paste or type "dice+1d100" w/o quotes in the options field :)
>>4767447"dice+1d100", without quotes, in the options line.
Rolled 77 (1d100)>>4766971
Rolled 30 (1d100)>>4766971last rolll!! i am going for a 1 to counteract the 100
Update incoming>>4767770Sorry amigo, got in a little too late UwUBut please stick around! There will be plenty more you can do, I promise;
Mr. Yu, giddy: "Heea, heea, heeuh, take! You take!" I hold my cupped hands out to receive what he has for me. It would be insensitive to refuse his charity at this point. Single-handedly, Jon dumps a treasure trove, a veritable embarrassment of riches into my hands:- a thin, sparkling gold chain with a diamond-encrusted trinket attached (100)- a large, simple, sturdy gold ring with "7/24/2011 - MMR" engraved on the inside (90)-an almost new, fully functioning digital watch (87)-a sturdy box cutter with a fresh razor (77)-a single subway token (74)-2 king size Snickers (61, 61)-and some of the chocolate is smeared all over everything (2)I'm startled by this, but I don't ask him where or how he got all this. Part of The Bum Code. So I smile at him and solidly thank him, and he begins his heartwarming cackle again. I say thanks a second time, then nod at him and say my bon voyage: "You take care of Jon, alright now, Chupie?" El Chupacabra wags his tongue and tail to that. I turn around to continue my journey. I feel awesome twofold; because I did a good deed, and because I received nice gifts from someone I now consider my friend. I walk with my hands cupped and my head held high. It would be best to hide all this stuff from prying eyes and passerbys. Just gotta clean this chocolate off of everything before I stow it in my pockets. I turn down an alley outside of Petey's Liquor and Snacks on 34th and Grotten.And then it hits me. A miserly whiff was all it took. This smell isn't terrestrial. It's demonic, it's from hell. I can feel the fumes physically stabbing and damaging my brain cells. That. Was not. Chocolate."gaAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!!"
It takes me a few moments, but I finally emerge from the alleyway. I wiped my hands off on discarded, filthy napkins and wayward, empty Flamin Hot Cheetos bags. Some of Mr. Yu's shit definitely got in my dog bite wound. I'm trying to not get freaked out about it or think too superstitiously... Or medically accurate...>Aw, screw it. It sucks but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten.>Jamal Jarvis, the 'street doctor' as he's called, hangs outside of Petey's Liquor and Snacks all the time. If I wait for him, he's guaranteed to show up, in fact I see one of his homies outside now.>Petey oughta have some good news or banter for me, and although I'm penniless, I can ask him about his mobster friends who fence jewelry all the time. Why not get this stuff appraised? I could even buy clean clothes and a shower before I meet Nick, and still have enough for a cab ride over there.>I'm not done with that Chester guy back on Hillcrest. I wanna know more about this whole Chester-Yu debacle. Mr. Yu did put his(?) feces in my hand and laugh about it, but I still want to protect him and el Chupacabra.>Nothing will exorate me. I am inexorable. I'm going to the book consignment store now. Nick Miller, I hope you remember your old pal!>Write in - ???
>>4768099>Aw, screw it. It sucks but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten.One day we will get to Nick Miller
>>4768099>Aw, screw it. It sucks but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten.It'll be a hassle and out of our way, but dying from septic shock is a slow and rough way to go.
>>4768099>Aw, screw it. It sucks but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten.make small talk with the staff working there. I've a feeling we'll see them frequently, so we might as well make friends.
>>4768099>Jamal Jarvis, the 'street doctor' as he's called, hangs outside of Petey's Liquor and Snacks all the time. If I wait for him, he's guaranteed to show up, in fact I see one of his homies outside now.
>>4768099>>Aw, screw it. It sucks but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten.
>>4768128>>4768645>>4769147Jamal Jarvis probably also knows where we can pawn our treasures once they're clean, and won't mind (as much) us wandering over with a shit-covered necklace in the first place.
Voting ends in one hour (apologies for the long break between updates. I plan to be active tonight around 11p PST for a couple more posts too)
>>4769968You are a pretty good writer you should consider becoming one if you aren't already
>>4768099>Nothing will exorate me. I am inexorable. I'm going to the book consignment store now. Nick Miller, I hope you remember your old pal!Hey, as long as that stuff doesn't enter you mouth, don't worry. Do find someplace to wash your hands tho...
>>4770007Thanks, you're very kind. I was actually thinking of that this morning. I certainly enjoy this. I suppose it starts with me putting myself out there. I was also thinking of posting something having to do with this topic in the /qtg/, you'll probably see me post it there within a day or two.______>Now on to the update!
Aw, screw it. It sucks, but I need to get to a free clinic to get this checked out. I don't want to die this way. Luckily, there's one really close on 40th and Grotten. Like someone flipped a switch, my vision blurs, my extremities tingle numb, and I feel like I slammed my head on concrete last night. Maybe that's how I fell asleep, Toothless Jack and I WERE hitting the booze harder than normal. And normal is already pretty damned hard, trust me.Well, I'm already outside of Petey's, might as well resupply to fight this terrible feeling off.I walk in and Petey's not even here, it's his baby nephew Giacomo. Kid is early 20's, foul-mouthed and a total hothead. He told me I get a pass since Petey likes me, "but if I see you sleepin' in front of owwa fukken stowwa again, I'm bashin' yer bum skull wid an aluminums baseballs bat, capiche, mook?"Hmm. I have no cash so he'll probably tell me to go, but using his neanderthal tongue. I doubt he knows what real gold or diamonds look like, so he'll low-ball me on that and won't even barter for the other stuff. There's no way I'd even humor threatening or attacking him with my new box cutter. Gotta get my alcohol... >Everyone roll 1d4! In approximately 5-6hrs, a tally will be counted, and the most rolled number will be used!
Rolled 4 (1d4)>>4770336
Rolled 1 (1d4)>>4770336
One more update tonight, coming in about an hour, rolling is still open!
Rolled 3 (1d4)>>4770336Shit what are we even doing here?
Rolled 1 (1d4)>>4770336Rollan>>4770683>Shit what are we even doing here?We're playing a hobo desperate for some booze in a liquor store without any money... we're getting some free liquor
>>4770371>>4770361>>4770347>>4770014>>4770007>>4769153>>4768645>>4768603>1 - WITHDRAWAL TIME2 - HAD TO BARTER!! - bad (Gold ring for 1 discount whiskey bottle)3 - HAD TO BARTER!! - good (2 Snickers for 1 strong beer can)4 - FREE ALCOHOL TIME_Giacomo notices me as soon as I walk in the store. Just my luck. "Heh-heyyy, if it isn't Hobo Joe!?! Petey ain't here right now. Whatdafuck do you want, bum? I know you can't afford a fukken ting in 'ere, so you may as well turn yer ass around."He doesn't see it but my fist balls up behind my back. I let go and give him a small smile. "Uh, yeah, my name isn't Joe... But actually Giaco', I happ-""Don't fukken call me Giaco', asshole, it's Giacomo. Ya fukken mook.""Erh-... Right. Well, I happened upon some good stuff today, I was thinking maybe we could make a deal? Petey usually has no problem with it. I got some really fancy jewelry, maybe you could take a look at it?"A moment of silence and unsurety. "Alright, alright then, let's have a look-sees then. Better not be wasting my time."I pull out my pocketed treasures and hold them in front of Giacomo.Sniff. Sniff."What da FUCK is that, yo? Why does it smell all funny?" I can't even sputter before he continues: "You're a sick, twisted old fuck, mister. You better leave befores I smacks you with my fukken piece. I'm askin' yous nicely since I feel bad for you, alright? Fukken leave, NOW."I walk out sullen and hungover, empty-handed. Sweaty and shaky, cold. Irritable.Hands in my pockets, head down, I make it to 40th and Grotten in the blink of an eye. An itchy, pissed-off eye. The free clinic is rather empty but it still takes me almost a whole hour to get seen after signing in. The lobby clock says 3:13PM, so I set my brand new watch to that time as well. A minute later, I get called in to be greeted by a drab, grey, unremarkable nurse with an "Esther" name tag. I explain my embarrassing situation, and she seems indifferent but still willing to do her job. Cool. Some advice starts to be given but in my irritable alcohol-withdrawn state, I piss her off and get an "Alright then, if you don't want to listen, I won't even bother saying it." Some hypodermic needles are used and discarded, some blood gets taken and some generic pills get given to me at the end:-3 white round pills with no markings in an orange pill containerMy watch reads 4:02PM now.I step outside and get shoved by an old man with a lead pipe. He was waiting for me outside of the clinic. Pretty ballsy move. A younger, sunglassed man with a baseball bat flanks me and says "Well, well, well. What do we have here? Toothless Jack's boy?" The lead pipe man is behind me now.>Talk to these gentlemen>Stand and fight >Run back in the clinic>Run down the street northwards, towards Nick.>Run, run, run. Take these guys on a wild goose chase.>Yell>Write in - ???Feel free to add flavor to any of the choices
>>4770692>>4770688>>4770683>>4770663Saw none of these because I took FOREVER writing that update then pressed post thinking there would be no new replies, my bad, but it kind of worked itself out. Thanks for the rolls/participation! Let's continue!!)
>>4770709>Run back in the clinicRun back and tell Esther we're sorry and that we want to know what to do with the pills. At least that's our excuse
>>4770709I don't know much about free clinics, but I assume not one working the front actually care. Par the course me thinks.>Stand and fightIt's a free clinic. If we get hurt we can just crawl our way inside, or get arrested and sent to jail. Either choice is fine since I expect us to to either die, get mugged, or worse since this is a roll by average system. Anything we find doesn't hold any real value anyways considering how frequent these encounters are.
>>4770719>>4770719>Either choice is fine since I expect us to dieYou want us to die? UwU And I agree, I made a note to myself already not to add any more items for a certain amount of rounds (unless it makes sense in the story), so as not to oversaturate and overcomplicate. Also, I find the items to be consequential (some not yet of course), but I'm obviously biased. Anyway, thanks for the post and feedback! Cheers to all! Will resume in 6-8 hrs., majority rules as per usual on this one. :-)
>>4770718+1Are we in Yakuza world where everyone in the city has an intense desire to fight or bother us? Starting to think reaching Nick Miller is a distant dream
>>4770709>Run, run, run. Take these guys on a wild goose chase.The goose is loose!
>>4770858>>4770797>>4770719>>4770718I pause and eyeball these two thugs. Mean mugs. Lead pipe guy threateningly smacks his hand with his implement. A hefty thud sounds on his flesh. My eyes shift. The sliding automatic doors of the free clinic are still open. I make a dash back inside a few feet, and feel a heavy thud on the back of my head. I wasn't fast enough. One thug to another: "Oh shit, Ronnie, what the fuck? You weren't supposed to-" I eat linoleum, hard. Silence. Blackness. Then fluorescence.I wake up in the clinic again, in a patient's room, Esther icing my skull. "Wow, you've had quite the day, haven't you sir? First the sepsis, now a beatdown? Must be your lucky day. " I'm peeved by her comment until I look up and see her smile and realize it was just sarcasm. I return the smile. "At least they ran off right after hitting you. Damn cowards." "Heh, yeah... You could say that again. ...Hey, sorry about being cranky earlier. Thanks for all your help." I take the ice bag from her hand, apply it myself, and stand up."Woah woah, hey, where do you think you're going, mister? You're in no shape to go anywhere. I was just performing some first aid, an ambulance is already on their way to take you to Saint Hoskins Hospital." My face is puzzled. Gotta think about my next move carefully.It's getting dark outside now. I likely won't see Nick tonight. I refuse to go back to sleeping in piss with Toothless Jack. That guy just got me jumped! I'm never going back. I'll have to set up camp in an area I'm unfamiliar with tonight. Or I could risk staying at the hospital. I say risk because there are some macabre rumors about how the homeless get treated in NYC hospitals. Time to make up my mind.>Yes, I should go to Saint Hoskins to get my head checked out. I can probably spend the night there as well if I ham it up right. >That hospital is all the way on 77th St.! I could pretend to accept treatment, hitch a free ride, then tell them I don't need no stinkin' hospital, and walk out of there on my own recognizance! >Run out of the clinic, don't let anyone stop you.>Use inventory (what and how? Current inventory: meds and the list from >>4768098)>Write in - ???
>>4771191>Yes, I should go to Saint Hoskins to get my head checked out. I can probably spend the night there as well if I ham it up right.She already called an ambulance- it would be more trouble for the poor lady if we weren't here when it showed up.I'm thinking we head there, get ourselves checked on and rest for the night, then afterwards we use that subway token we've got to get the rest of the way to Nick Miller's place, or as close as we can
>>4771191But we dont got muny to pay for the hospital expenses.
>>4771191>>Write in - ???Ask what exactly is wrong with my head
>>4771191>That hospital is all the way on 77th St.! I could pretend to accept treatment, hitch a free ride, then tell them I don't need no stinkin' hospital, and walk out of there on my own recognizance!with the way our luck is working out the doctors probably perform nazi type experiments on the homeless.
>>4771288+1If the hospital doesn't turn out to be a secret Nazi reptilian research facility I'll be disappointed (but still pleasantly surprised)
>>4771191>That hospital is all the way on 77th St.! I could pretend to accept treatment, hitch a free ride, then tell them I don't need no stinkin' hospital, and walk out of there on my own recognizance! Yeah, our safest bet I think. I have my worries about the hit on the head but a few neurons missing hasn't killed any- well, too many people
Rolled 124 (1d500)>>4771471>Sprinting (additional write-in encouraged!)"Oh shit is that plane gonna crash into that building?!" while pointing away from us and then book it.Sure to evoke some old New York fear!
>>4771483 (sorry, some autistic reposting and small edits on my part, vote tallied!)>>4771393>>4771341>>4771288>>4771275>>4771274>>4771216 My head feels alright considering I was just taken out by Ronnie in the Clinic with the Lead Pipe. Who am I, Colonel Mustard?! Esther's been pretty nice to me so I won't give her any grief. I decide to play along and get taken for a free trip up to 77th. In just a few more minutes, my head feels almost normal, except when I blink too hard or bend over past my waist. I pretend I'm still really hurt, though; and winces, groans, silence and a few murmured answers to the paramedic's questions are all I produce. Hypochondriac is really just a term for those with a little more finesse than the average joe. They don't turn their sirens on for me, but we still arrive in the ambulance bay of the hospital in under half an hour. The paramedic in the back of the ambulance with me starts opening the back door. Well, it's been nice knowin' ya guys, thanks for the free ride! Sayonara!From now on, assume your inventory is always accessible unless otherwise noted.>Strength (additional write-in encouraged!)>Speech (additional write-in encouraged!)>Sprint (additional write-in encouraged!)>Stealth (additional write-in encouraged!)Then roll 1d500 with your choice! The median (middle) roll of the most picked decision will be used!
>>4771483wtf is this anon a time traveler!?>Speech (additional write-in encouraged!)>Hey thanks for the ride and stuff, but I have important things to do and I'd rather not get scrapped for parts in the hospital. I bet the deep estate wants to put me in one of those MRE meal ready to eat machines to mess with my rem sleep. No sir, no. I gotta go excuse me
Rolled 214 (1d500)>>4771546oh shit we even get to roll? even better
Rolled 107 (1d500)>>4771489rolling for majority vote
Rolled 173 (1d500)>>4771489>Sprint>"Okay, legs. I don't particularly like you, but my head needs some rest and rest of my bodyparts can't help. It's up to you." - you murmur to yourself. Damn the hospital. We have places to be. A bit of theatrics so that they let their guard down... You know how to act flegmatic if nothing else... And Go!
lmao our hobo sure is in bad shape.
Rolled 418 (1d500)>>4771471>Stealth (additional write-in encouraged!)When the medic opens the other door, slip out onto the opposite side and then slip under the vehicle. It is a genius hiding place, they will never think to look there!
Great answers so far everyone, lol!! >>4771902Do you have a favorite category (strength, etc.) or other post in particular you want to pick? You have about 4 and half hours until next update
Rolled 239 (1d500)>>4771489>Stealth (additional write-in encouraged!)Using the write-in here >>4772079Sprinting is more-or-less out because of our likely concussion, and if these EMTs aren't obscenely jaded, they'll probably take issue with us just trying to fuck off out of here. Just sneak off while they're talking triage and shit.
Rolled 190 (1d500)>>4771489>Sprint (additional write-in encouraged!)as per >>4772075
voting over>>4771483 Sprint 124>>4772075 Sprint 173>>4772210 Sprint 190>>4772079 Stealth 418>>4772109 Stealth 239>>4771546 Speech 214>>4771902 ??? 107 (Evil QM moment: I'm counting this as a Sprint roll!)Sprint (124+173+190+107)/4 = 145"Okay, legs. I don't particularly like you, but my head needs some rest and rest of my bodyparts can't help. It's up to you." - you murmur to yourself. Damn the hospital. We have places to be. A bit of theatrics so that they let their guard down... You know how to act flegmatic if nothing else... And Go!Let's get the frig out of here!!!!
Lol that's what I get for using median roll for the first time and posting past my beddy-by time.Actual median roll number is 124 and 173, so about 145 anyways. Weeee! Numbers are fun!
I step out of the ambulance and wait until the paramedic from the back closes the door."Hoh, why, what's this?!?!?!?!" I look around in the air with my hands palms-up, eyes in bewilderment. "It's a miracle, I feel completely better now!" The paramedic in staring me down, nonplussed. "Sir, let's not do this today. Sigh. Please. ?" His last words are half commanding, half begging. It's a good thing I counted on how often stuff like this happens to these poor guys in the big apple. He's just doing his job, but I'm just doing mine. Gotta stay free, brother. "I would've skipped on the bill anyway, kid, sorry, but what did you expect??? I'm homeless!!!" I make a big first stretching step behind me without looking and I trip hard over a fire hydrant. Some objects fling out of my coat's pocket, but I jump right back to my feet, my head spinning, seeing double. The paramedic doesn't even move or say a word, and his partner hasn't gotten out of the driver's seat yet. I book it.I catch a few more eyes than typical in downtown. Fancy people up here in midtown. They don't like being reminded of my kind when shopping in their luxury outlets. When I come to a good resting spot, a map kiosk of the area, I notice my nose has dried blood on it from my trip and fall. I'm pretty wiped out, I want to rest. I search my person and realize what I lost three blocks ago: my box cutter, my medication and both of my Snickers. I was saving those for before bed since they help me sleep, but now I feel like I'm starving. I haven't even had booze in, like, 17 hours! How's a man supposed to survive? I need to sleep, but this city... Yeah, you know the saying. This city never sleeps. Finding a place to rest right now where I won't be disturbed will be difficult. I study the map in front of me. Looks like I ran south in the kerfuffle, putting me on 74th and Timbledon, a little further east of where we were. My watch reads 5:50PM. Darkness will be near absolute in another hour. And the cold...>Head north-west, straight to Nick Miller's>Head north-west, to the subway station>Head north, past Saint Hoskins to the nearby park>Head west, to a grocery store>Head west, to a pawn shopIf you want, go ahead and add on some writing to the one you choose to further influence what we do and how!Inventory check: -gold chain with diamond pendant-engraved gold ring-subway token-almost new, fully functioning digital watch
>>4772589>>Head west, to a pawn shop
>>4772589>head west- to a pawn shop!>Better get some cash. Maybe some new clothes. Hell, if I feel like, call a cab!
>>4772639+1. Pawn shop, then food and booze.
>>4773030>>4772796>>4772738>>4772639>>4772600Pawn shop excursion it is! Writing now!
Sorry, Miller, I'll see you tomorrow. Promise. Tonight I've got to get some food and shelter, I know you won't hold it against me. Hell, I just remembered you don't even know I'm coming to see you, hopefully you still know who I am. I consider sleeping in the subway station or the park near the hospital I just ran away from, but those places are pretty seedy and not really safe. I think of stealing from Von's for the two hundredth time but remember my jingle jangle in my pocket, and how could I forget? This stuff oughta reverse my luck and I'll never need to steal again. I nearly broke a tooth while biting the heavy ring to see if it's real gold. I hope that trick works. Besides, I'm not quicker than the Nigerian kid Von's hired recently for security. He's already caught me and thrown me out twice. Strongarm bastard. One of the many deciding factors why Toothless Jack and I left midtown, it's getting less friendly for hobos. Cold hands stuffed in coat pockets, I meander towards the district with the pawn shops, and the first one that's still open is "Pawn Masters" on 74th and Hillcrest. I walk inside the pleasantly warm store and the bell attached to the door sounds my entrance. An elderly gentleman comes out of the back and greets me with a welcoming smile even though I'm covered in smelly scum. He seems to ignore completely the fact that I am a dirty tramp. Let's make a deal.>Choose 1, 2 or all 3 items to pawn (or forget the rest of this post and do a write in):-Engraved gold ring-Gold + diamond necklace-Almost new, fully functioning digital watch>Then choose 0, 1 or 2 items to purchase: (0 items chosen = cash only)-Look for a self-defense tool -Some spiffy new threads-Miscellaneous trinkets, odds and ends>Then roll a wildcard/negotiation roll of 1d10 to wheel-and-deal with the pawn broker! (I will examine all rolls as a set for this, kind of like an average but also factoring in outliers in a unique way)[/spoilers]
Rolled 7 (1d10)>>4773157>Engraved gold ring>Gold + diamond necklace>Look for a self-defense toolsomething cheap like a swiss.
Rolled 6 (1d10)>>4773157>-Engraved gold ring>-Gold + diamond necklaceA timepiece is a useful thing to have in NYC.>-Look for a self-defense tool>-Some spiffy new threadsLet's show up looking like a somebody (which also means all our blood still inside of us when we get to Mr. Miller)
Rolled 8 (1d10)>>4773207I'll support this, but we really should hold onto some cash as a reserve for the fabled meeting with Nick. Enough to get a shower at a gym at least or something.
>>4773157We should have washed the jewelry beforehand, as it still has chocolate in it.>>4773207 I am okay with this!!!! suppot
Rolled 6 (1d10)>>4773157-Engraved gold ring-Gold + diamond necklace-Look for a self-defense toolSorry for the smell, but there nothing we can really do about it. We're not in the Vatican. No we didnt steal these if you're wondering. A kindly fellow hobo gave them to me.Yeah just wash off the stuff with soap.Ask the nice old guy if he knows of a place that would let us shower and sleep on their floor. Actually, would we have enough money to rent a room at a motel? One with a shower?
>>4773357We could ask to use his bathroom really quick?>>4773157If we go for the spiffy new threads, could we get something functional on the cheap? Like a new jacket with zippers? No more losing stuff yo.
>>4773207>>4773353>>4773357But we still need money for some food.
>4773468>If we go for the spiffy new threads, could we get something functional on the cheap? Like a new jacket with zippers? No more losing stuff yo.I second zippers, but anything is snazzier than what we must have now.
>>4773701>>4773473>>4773468>>4773464>>4773357>>4773353>>4773207>>4773187>Hidden mechanic: Friendly shopkeep means all rolls get a +2 modifier!Rolls: 6(+2), 6(+2) 7(+2), and 8(+2)Decision: Keep the timepiece. Swap necklace and ring for clothes, self-defense implement and cash. Ignore trinkets.After pleasantries are through, I retrieve the jewelry from their hiding place in my inside jacket pocket. I produce them to the cheerful, elderly pawn broker. At first glance, he immediately gets very upset. To avoid letting him think the obvious (i.e., I stole this), before I even let him speak, I explain exactly how I got these items. After chasing off a bug-eating reptilian cultist, I ran into Jon Yu, the crazy Asian hobo, who gave the jewels to me when I gave him my sausage-eating street mutt guardian, El Chupacabra. "What are the chances of that..." He solemnly, softly says. Some of my wording confuses the shopkeep but his upset look morphs into one of hesitant understanding, then to acceptance and sadness, then to determination. I'm confused as to why he's so moody, even if I did actually steal these. Then everything is revealed when he speaks: "Jon Yu, huh? Asian guy, kind of dark skin, long hair, real dirty, wearing a brown jacket?""Yeah, yeah, that's him... How do you-?""Look sir. I know you won't believe this but-... Oh god, this must have all been in Jesus's plan..." He whimpers a single whimper and a tear breaks quickly down his cheek and onto his shirt. "An old asian man yapping about bugs and toads, Jon Yu, if that is his real name, mugged me about a week ago after I was locking up one night. I'm Joe Renning. My wife was Maryanne Mildred Renning. M, M, R. She died on July twenty-fourth, two thousand and eleven." 7-24-2011. The engraving on the ring. He didn't even look on the inside of it. It's his ring alright. "This is the necklace I got her when we were honeymooning in Paris, she would wear it everywhere, all the time... So I would carry it everywhere, too, after..." His voice breaks for a second and he wipes away more tears. He strengthens and proceeds: "I got this ring made so I could always carry a reminder of my lovely wife wherever I go. I don't need it because she's always in my heart and mind, but... I know these mean nothing to you other than some money, I really would appreciate having these back.""Oh my g-I didn't... I couldn't have... Of course you can have them back. I'm sorry...""No, no, no. I'll pay you. I'll pay you exactly what I paid for them brand spanking new. You're like a good omen from the Lord."I resist his charity, but not too much. I explain my situation to him and we work out a trade that satisfies both of us.
He gives me $350 cash, a set of simple yet classy and utilitarian clothing, and a nice, sturdy fixed-blade knife with a sheath, sharp as a razor. My new-used shoes don't even have holes in them!I apologize for the passing of his wife and his recent mugging from Jon Yu. He shrugs it off and chalks it up to life. What an inspiring fellow. My stomach grumbles and I have things to do, so I leave Joe Renning to closing up his shop. It's 6:59PM.I hit a bodega just a few doors down, come out and instantly eat a $10 feast of sunflower seeds, a Whatchamacallit, beef jerky and a cold 40 ounce beer. Hoo, boy, I feel alive! What's my next move, I wonder.There's the Roche Motel just a few doors down. Hotel 9 is only a block away on 75th and Hillcrest. Or I could save my money and sleep on a bench or somewhere else, NYC hotels are ridiculously priced.>Buy decent hotel room (-$250)>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)>Find somewhere else to go (optional: where?)>Keep pressing on towards 111th St., find a place to sleep later.>Write in - ???Inventory check:-$340-Hobo clothes (wearing)-Nice clothes in a shopping bag-Almost new, fully functioning digital watch-Sharp as fuck, sheathed bowie knife-A single subway token
>>4773157>gold ring>gold necklace>look for a self defense tool, preferably a shotgunwe murderhobo now
>>4773715>>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)Holy fuck 140 for a room? down south its only $40 for two nights
>>4773715>Bowie knifeyikes, that's quite the weapon.>Find somewhere else to go (optional: where?)I was going to say we use the token and ride the subway to go somewhere safe we know and spend the night there but I have a feeling this quest is not set thirty years ago. Can we use the money to take the subway nonetheless? and get somewhere we know to sleep in. Preferably away from our drinking buddy toothless jack, because I have the feeling those $300 won't see the light of the day if so
>>4773715>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)Cash on the street's a liability. We'll spend it on something practical tomorrow. Maybe... Books?? Make a good first impression on Nick.
>>4773715>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)also, since we didn't vote on it, could we switch the blade for something non-lethal like a taser or bear mace? I somehow feel the knife will only get us into more trouble...
>>4773742what are your most expensive books?
>>4773739Dis be NYC, son. (over here in a normal town in southern Cali it's gonna be at least 50-60 for one night in the shittiest place you can find, lol.)>>4773740>>4773743>>4773742Write ins checked and accepted ;)______Next update in about 5 or about 10 hrs. (don't know if I'll be able to get to it on my lunch today)VOTING STILL OPEN
>>4773715>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)>>4773739I googled prices in NYC, and QM's surprisingly accurate. Prices are insane, but if we don't pay them we'll get shanked for sure
>>4773753Can we look for a tophat tomorrow? Makes me look more quirky and symphatetic.
>>4773768>willy wonka quest
>>4773715Joe is such a swell guy. I hope we get to talk to him again somewhere down the line of we don't ditch town.>>4773757>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)Rats and roaches be damned, we need to live a little. Can we ask if the cheap room has a shower or at least a sink? At minimum we can use the sink to wash all our clothes, then use something as a rag to wipe ourself down, then wash more of our hobo clothes.
>>4773740We could instead use the token to get a ride closer to Mike's place.>>4773742Books are heavy tho>>4773743Tempting, but a a Bowie knife is sick a fuck.
>>4774075if someone wants the token, I guess it could be bartered for, but I don't think it is safe to go to mike and find someplace warm on the go
>>4774075Bowie is a very good knife.
>>4774145I meant using the token to take a ride on the subway train, to get closer to our old book friend.
>>4773715>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)It still better have the complimentary soap and a shower, we gotta bathe and wash our clothes. Maybe we can spend some of our remaining $200 on a shave and haircut tomorrow to look more presentable in our nicer clothes we got from the guy.
>>4774352Jesus fuck. That's a really expensive haircut. Let's just buy some scissors, shaving cream, and a razor and do it ourself. Maybe buy a toothbrush and toothpaste while we're at it. All five of those shouldn't cost more that what, $40? Go to the local CVS or whatever is in NYC. Maybe a Vons.With the leftover cash we could buy some breakfast on the cheap if we're smart.
>>4773715>Buy cheap motel room (-$140)Falling asleep on a bench or subway with this much cash on us is asking to be stabbed with that sick new Bowie Knife we got. Have a decent sleep with a chance to get cleaned up before meeting up with Nick tomorrow.
>>4774610>>4774570>>4774371>>4774352>>4774315>>4774306>>4774245>>4774145>>4774117>>4774075>>4773967>>4773790>>4773768>>4773765>>4773753>>4773743>>4773742>>4773740>>4773739>>4773735Roche Motel, here we come!
I wipe my mouth and dispose of my trash in a nearby bin. About 50 paces later and I'm in the lobby of the Roche Motel, telling the hotel clerk why I can't provide ID or a credit card. The room is $120, extremely cheap by New York City standards. I slip him an extra $20 and he doesn't seem to need my ID anymore. High society, hear me roar! I get handed something I haven't held in months and months and months: a key. A plastic card instead of a real metal key, but still. Music goes off in my head, wonderful horns and woodwinds, xylophones and cymbal crashes. A choir of angels. I feel dizzy, and this time it's not from the alcohol or pain. I grip onto the front desk for a split second to re-orient myself. "Are you alright, sir?", is what a good concierge would say, but it's New York, I'm still in my tarnished clothes, and this guy has no idea whether or not he's looking at a junkie he'll be scraping off the floor tomorrow. As silently as possible, I just stumble out so I don't piss him off and get kicked out. I head to my motel room, my own temporary piece of real estate. A slice of heaven. Avoiding eye contact with the only other person in the parking lot, I pop the door with the magnetic keypass, flip the lights on, and quickly lock and deadbolt the door. I toss my bag of clothes on the ground and cannonball onto the queen sized bed! Bliss. Of the pure, unadulterated variety. Gnarled muscle fibers unwind into ecstasy. My cranium feels like a fuzzy bubble on a cloud, getting licked by kitten tongues. Limbs stretching out forever and ever like drooping bread dough or soft-serve ice cream. I'm immobilized. No, I'm asleep.
A real bed. I wake up and bawl my eyes out. Just because I had some privacy and a real bed for the first time in ages. My back isn't even cramped up, my head isn't even throbbing. I make a starfish of myself and sigh like I'm being deflated. A picture of my grin belongs in a dictionary. A few minutes later, I get out of the Roche Motel bed and take an orange-tinted piss in the clean toilet. Without missing a beat or pushing the tempo, I flush my piss and disrobe, step in the bathtub/shower combo, adjust the nozzle and twist the dial. Steamy water. Hurrah!I shower, relax naked in bed, then repeat. Four cycles and I finally feel clean again. I look at my watch and smile at the 7:30AM looking back at me. I have the room for another half a day if I want to make use of it. I don't have to come back to return the keypass, they'll automatically change the electronic signature once my 24 hours is up. I place my beat up duds in the plastic bag and suit up in my new threads. Spiffy! I wonder how Nick is going to react when he sees his old high school buddy. He'll flip, I bet! Well, I ain't gonna teleport there, that's for sure! Choose *2* places to visit and roll 2d3! We head as straight as we can to the old book consignment store right after! >50's themed diner, let's get a nice, big, continental breakfast.>Head to the subway, let's take a shortcut to 111th. >Let's go to the local Vons and actually pay for stuff this time. Perhaps make amends with people who feel I have wronged them.>Go back to Pawn Masters and visit Joe for a bit, peruse his wares again.>Barbershop time! I need to change the fact that I look like I have several bird's nests located on my head!>Let's rob some of the cars in the parking lot. Tourists are dumb as fudge.>Stay here in my Roche Motel room. Rest until my time is up at the motel. It feels so good here, I don't want to go back out on those hard streets. (Counts as 2 places, roll 1d3 instead.)>Write ins always welcomed
>>4774797Does the digital watch have a timer? How much batter life does it have?We have $210 bucks left. Time to spend wisely. What limited amenities does the motel have? I've never been to a motel so I don't personally know. Could we buy stuff at the Vons to bring back and cook?>Let's go to the local Vons and actually pay for stuff this time. Perhaps make amends with people who feel I have wronged them.Go to the Vons, pick up razor, shaving cream, tooth paste, toothbrush, cheap foods. make amends with the people working there. (any chance we get buy a shit ton of slightly expired stuff they were gonna throw away anyways for a few bucks?)>Barbershop time! I need to change the fact that I look like I have several bird's nests located on my head!
Rolled 2, 2 = 4 (2d3)>>4774797forgot to roll
This post applies to everyone:>>4774819Digital watch has a timer mode and basically inexhaustible battery life.This motel room has soap, towels, coffee pot, and an alarm clock. Also a bed, telephone that only calls the office, and a TV that costs money to use. Every other question/suggestion: Yes! That's doable!
>>4774840Keeping the used bar of soap is a given. Wait dish soap dispenser, or bath soap, or both? Whatever we're keeping both.coffee pot come with any coffee, or is that only for hotels?TV can't even be used to watch Spanish flicks or watch the news?>Coffee potNoticed you didn't mention any stove or sink. Well a sink is also a given, but I think I understand not having a stove. What we can do is buy some instant ramen, eggs, onions, basic bitch lunch meat and dump that in the coffee pot to "cook." Buy some disposable or reusable utensils and eat out of that if the room doesn't come with any utensils. Hurray for Prison/College tier eatings.>VonsWe've probably been there dozens of times, a veteran among other hobos in the art of shoplifting. We should know the ins and outs of where all the products are in each isle.I know Vons have apps and deals. What I want to know is if we can ask one of the employees if we can use their card to buy stuff on the cheap. Cheaper on the cheap, because we'll save money, and they get points towards their next in-store reward like to good wage slave they are.
Rolled 1 (1d3)>>4774797>Stay here in my Roche Motel room. Rest until my time is up at the motel. It feels so good here, I don't want to go back out on those hard streets. (Counts as 2 places, roll 1d3 instead.)but get some snacks from a 7/11 or something.
Rolled 5, 1 = 6 (2d6)>>4774797>Write ins always welcomedBuy meat to cookGet fucking RIPPED on protein.>>4774906Isnt that technically 2?
>>4774862>>4774906>>4774963Checked, waiting a few hours then I'll update again. Voting/rolling is still open!
Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d3)>>4774797>>Barbershop time! I need to change the fact that I look like I have several bird's nests located on my head!>Let's rob some of the cars in the parking lot. Tourists are dumb as fudge.
>>4775088checked? but no post has dubs or trips>>4774862I am with this anon on this one. Using the most out of the motel room plus having something nice to eat sounds great. Also let's shower one (1) more time before our time is up
Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d3)>>4775124ah, du. The roll. I wonder how thin we are
>>4774963>Isnt that technically 2?I think even epic hobo mc should be able to get a sandwich from 7/11 without getting jumped by gangbangers
>>47752897/11 food is trash and we all know it.
Rolled 5, 4, 1 = 10 (3d6)We decide to stick by the hotel after we go out for a little shopping.Having a bit of a difficult time deciding on how to proceed, so I will roll 3d6 to decide how we do the following actions: Grooming roll, 1st: 1-3 self-groom, 4+ barbershopShopping roll, 2nd:1-2 weak sauce hobo food, 3+ B I G M E A TParking lot roll, 3rd: 1-4 no dice (ba dum tss), 5+ steal some shit
Rolled 3, 1 = 4 (2d3)>>4774797>Write inCommit some thieving... but in another parking lot, not this one. Then once we've done the deed...>Barbershop time! I need to change the fact that I look like I have several bird's nests located on my head!Which will not only make us not look like total shit, but which will help us avoid detection. I think our hobo can work his way to a triple digit IQ at this rate!
>>4775410We can self groom pretty well and make good hobo food, but can steal for shit.
I make up my mind, shower again, and hit the streets! Just for a little bit, anyway, I'll come back to settle everything at the motel. I leave my old clothes in the plastic bag in the room and head towards the spinning red and blue striped white pole nearest to me. There's no one else in the shop, just two barbers, one cleaning his specialized chair. The other one approaches me. Good thing I have some nice clothes on or else he'd probably tell me to shoo. He has obvious issues dealing with the knots on my knot's knots, so he finally puts down his combs and picks up the shears. Some buzzing, some snipping and some hot towel noises later, the barber spins me around and I face the mirror. With wet eyelids, I snort out a mixture of a laugh and a cry. I... I... I finally recognize myself again. Myself before I was a street rat. The man I was. The man I still am.My moment is broken by a "How do you like it, sir?" I tell him he did an amazing job. He rings me up. It costs an abominable $33, but this barber is a master of his craft. I'm so elated that I've rediscovered myself, I don't even sneer at the price. I float back out to 74th St at 8:25AM.I uneventfully walk down two blocks to the Vons I used to steal stuff from all the time. I feel guilty over the past, but like I'm doing the right thing by coming back to pay for things. I shop around a bit and get some fruit and meat, a few hygiene supplies. A bottle of booze to fight the shakes off. They ring up all my items at $37. I get a grocery bag for all my supplies, and as I'm exiting, I go up to the Nigerian security guard at the outside of the sliding doors, "Hey, Chibundu..." I say while subconsciously looking downwards."Yes, do I know you?" He responds in a thick accent. He doesn't recognize me.It's a little embarrassing but I inform him he's had to chase and throw me out for stealing before. That I've had a change in my luck and I hope I don't have to steal again. "Hoh-hoh, my friend, thees is good to hear! Hopefully you have no need for that DAGGA on the side of your heep either!" Guess I couldn't conceal my sheath from a trained guard. I joke it off with him and make my way back to my motel. I wanna catch a nice nap and maybe watch some TV before I have to check out. I pound a hearty chug of liquor and head back towards my room, refreshed.Inventory check: -$130-Nice clothes (wearing)-Almost new, fully functioning digital watch-Sharp as fuck, sheathed bowie knife-A single subway token-2 mini Roche Motel soap bars-Grocery bag with toothpaste, toothbrush, 3 apples and 3 different types of beef jerky-3/4 bottle of whiskey
The walk is simple in the morning, no one to harry me. I reach the motel parking lot and think back to only a few weeks ago when I was busting into peoples' cars and taking their belongings. The thought's weight bears down on me. It used to be so easy, and even fun. Thrilling. Now I'm a little sick to the stomach at the thought. I've stolen children's gameboys, entire purses filled with tampons, credit cards and personal information, work laptops, drugs, you name it out of cars. I vow I won't ever do that again unless it's for my safety or it's an emergency. Vow locked in! I continue walking and then stop. They're right in front of my door, waiting for me. There's no mistaking them.The lead pipe guy and the baseball bat guy. Sans lead pipe and baseball bat this time. What the hell are they following me for?!>Attempt diplomacy. See why they're after you. Get them to leave you alone.>Sneak up and attack these goons. >Go to the front desk and create a diversion or story to get the men out of the motel complex so you can return to your room.>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow. >Write in - ???(Additional writing add-ons/suggestions welcomed, of course)
>>4775542>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow.there's a good chance these guys won't even recognize us
>>4775542>>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow.
>>4775542>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow.If they want to pick a fight, we'll stab the fuck of them this time.
>>4775542>Sneak up and attack these goons....>But decide that we're leaving that life behind us and instead>Attempt diplomacy. See why they're after you. Get them to leave you alone.
>>4775550Supporting this, but have knife at the ready.
Just a heads up, next update will be in ~6 or ~12 hours depending on how work goes. Wish I had more free time for this! Hope the pacing is tolerable, thanks everyone for all the interest and participation! Voting still open, of course!
>>4775612Was bored, there is a lot of weird cooking shit you can do with a coffee pot apparently. Blanch veggies in the coffee filter, use the heating plate to make crepes. The fuck are these people doing with their time.
>>4775631Yeah, considered having Epic Hobo buy tons of slabs of discount raw meat from Vons and using the coffee pot to cook it, but thought it might have been a little niche or too out there, lol. Maybe it's good Epic Hobo didn't buy the raw meat and got jerky instead, especially if we don't make it back into our hotel again.But yeah you can boil water in it it's basically a little pot, pretty neat lol. Voting still ongoing!
>>4775645Changing vote for diplomacy, but keeping the knife ready. They dont appear to be armed.
Current vote tally:>Just leave (3):>>4775550>>4775565>>4775591>Cautious diplomacy (2):>>4775573>>4775649Next update: 6 or 12 hoursVoting still open, naturally.
>>4775542>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow. Those old rags were due for a replacement anyhow, if we wind up needing more we can just go to goodwill
>>4775659>leave quietlyor>quietly leavewhichever vote wins. I've been loving the quest qm, it's different for sure and well grounded in reality
>>4775542>Just quietly leave. All that's left in my room are my bum clothes anyhow.Time they spend waiting here is time they're not bashing us in the fucking head 2 on one. If they don't have the beatsticks, they might have a gun or knives instead. Better to just vanish now, since they might not recognize us cleaned up with nice clothes and a fresh haircut.
sorry for late update, fell asleep while writing last night, had a long day. apologies. next post in a few hours!
>>4776799>>4776762>>4776119>>4775649>>4775631>>4775591>>4775573>>4775566>>4775565>>4775550I turn 180 degrees and powerwalk out of the motel complex. Those guys give me the creeps. Best to leave them in the past along with my old clothes in the motel and my old hair in that barber shop. Those relics are trappings of a past I will not be returning to any time soon. Successfully handling (or avoiding) my problems, I strut and whistle down the blocks, wondering how else I can shed my old skin.It's pretty cold, usually the sun is strong and hot by 9:00AM, but today it's just clouds and brisk air. A reminder for me that Nick Miller or no, I can't wait for it to start snowing out here. They don't let you drink booze and sleep all day in the homeless centers, or so Toothless Jack has told me. They don't let you do much of anything at all, I hear. And if they deem you to be too rowdy to be around the staff or the other hobos, they send you straight to a jail cell. They think you're sick? Straight to Saint Hoskins. And who the hell knows what happens to you there. I need to find a place to call my own, and fast. Maybe Nick can help me out in one way or another, maybe not, but he's my number one priority for now.I've been whistling aloud and strutting snazzily down the street like some kind of psycho or movie character for a dozen blocks. My pride's veneer fades and I no longer whistle or puff out my chest as I walk. I'm silent and I feel sunken, small. There on the corner of 88th and Grotten, a businessman walks by and casually charitably donates money, multiple bills, to the middle-aged, schizophrenic homeless woman nearby on a street bench. I know she's schizo because that's Milly. She's been on the streets longer than I have. On days she's not completely batshit, she's very kind and caring of everyone she meets, always talking about her boy that passed away. I start crossing the street towards the corner Milly is on. I notice she has a tarp, a large, full tote bag, and a cat bowl with water in it. Halfway across the street, I think Milly has entered one of her moods, as she has cocked her head down and to the side and started swearing at someone who isn't there. I step foot from the asphalt onto the concrete, just a few yards away from the disturbed Milly.>Give Milly something from our inventory >Start a conversation with Milly>Track down the generous business man up the street>Ask Milly to join our party>Do my best to ignore Milly and keep walking>Do something devious >Write in - ???Multiple choices can be made and accepted for this one. Any option that gets over 3 votes will be done. To avoid a clusterfuck, each ID/person, please pick no more than 2 choices. Additional writing/suggestions always accepted!!
>>4777251>wave and say good morning, and walk on.
>>4777251Give her an apple and $50. She's a sweet lady sometimes, and if we look like a high-roller and want to be a high-roller again someday, let's be the good sort. If we end up backsliding, at least the hobo community will remember that we weren't an asshole when we briefly ascended.
>>4777251>Track down the generous business man up the streetIf he's willing to help out the homeless maybe he can be of help to us too.
I must say all this stuff about hobos joining our party and how we seem to keep having random encounters makes me think OP would rather run this as a sort of Hobo Final Fantasy but we keep messing things up, lol
>>4777251>Start a conversation with MillyHow has she been? She doing alright? Tell her we're trying to see if we can turn our life around.>>4777424Dude. We only have $130. Giving her $50 only leaves us with $130. She's got scratch from the other guy. As bad as it sounds we need this money to start a new. If we have any left over we can probably get her some. The apple though seems fair.
>>4777453that's some hobo math right there
>>4777463It is. I need coffee.*$80
>>4777251>Ask Milly for her wisdomIf we are to face the trial at Nick's, we need the wisdom of the hobo woman
>>4777451>Hobo Final Fantasylololololol naw I'm trying to avoid "combat rolls" and stats, etc. in this quest as much as possibleWhat's the point of spoilers if everyone loks at the spoiler right away, anyway? lol>>4777463>>4777478KekVoting still open until next post! (coming in 6, 12 or 18 hrs.)
>>4777251>Do my best to ignore Milly and keep walking
>>4777663>Millie used crazy tirade>Thug No. 2 is confused>Toothless Jack used bottle throw>CRITICAL HIT - Thug No. 1 is K.O.
>>4777663https://youtu.be/4s1DDt7a9v8When we enter the bookstore...
>>4777830rumao. Anon if you stick around give final fantasy BGM to each of FaeQM's updates
>>4777882>when we meet Nickhttps://youtu.be/5lP_anjF6rA>when we see Ronnie againhttps://youtu.be/iXqtVDzzgCU
>>4777453I agree/support this. Fifty dollars is a hell of a lot of money, that could buy us gallons of bottom shelf rotgut whiskey. An apple will do.>>4777830>>4778286>sneak into nightclub>hear thishttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jho-peCAKsThere's probably a song for everything if you try hard enough
>>4778937>>4777453An apple and $10, then?
(-$10, -1 apple)Clouds darken. Milly is beside me, now behind me, now 10 paces behind me, still on her bench, arguing with invisible demons of past and present. She didn't notice me pass, and how could she, I look like a different man. Much in the way Milly used to look like a different woman. My heartstrings must have gotten snagged up on that bench as I was walking through. Time to untangle. I hesitantly walk back, a Red Delicious with a hidden Alexander Hamilton in my palm. I extend the offering and say "Hi, Milly". The woman cranks her head up in a snarl and a curt "What?!", followed by a snapping of the neck, a head shake, then a softening of expression and a "Oh-ho sweety, I didn't recognize you... It's so sweet to see you dearie! I love your new haircut." She accepts my apple without seeing the money tucked under it, and just sort of holds it while smiling into my eyes. I return the eye contact and warm smile. "It's getting cold, Milly, will you be heading to the Center again for winter this year?" The clouds continue to gather and multiply."Oh, no, no, no..." She looks away now and is instantly shaken, rocking on the bench. She returns to my eyes and shakes her head "no". "Not going back there... ever... Find my own way, maybe leave New York if I can. Maybe a new homeless center, but not 'The Center'." A small shudder passes through Milly. She breaks her thousand yard stare to reciprocate the question. I tell her I'm working on that now, that I only happened across her because I was on a bit of a journey to see an old friend. A thin smile, maybe incredulous? "Well, that's sweet honey. But don't put all your eggs in one basket. One thing you already know, living out here, is that you can't trust anyone else to look out for you." A peal of thunder booms over my head.
"But you've looked after me, before. I've seen you look after many scared and hopeless people. Some old, some young, male, female, drug withdrawals, psychotic episodes, runaways... There are good people in this world. In this town. People willing to help those in need. I'm looking at one right now." I kneel down and put a reassuring hand on her thigh.An embarrassed blush and a quick look away, then back to me. A quick, doubtful chuckle. "Yeah, you're right, there are kind souls in this town, and I've been helped quite a bit myself... No one can do this alone. No one. Just remember that, okay, son? And look after yourself! Be good, okay? Be good." She grasps my hand. "Be good." I agree, eye-to-eye. I stand up and make my departing words: how it was nice to see her, hope she does well and hope I see her again. I embrace Milly in a tight hug. The sky cries a single tear. Then a dozen. Then within a minute my clothes are half soaked. Roll 1d100 with your choice! Each option's rolls evaluated as a set. Higher rolls = better outcome>See if Milly wants an escort out of the rain.>Looking up the street, under a store's overhang, that business man is waiting for a cab to pick him up. I could run and catch up to him.>Go forward towards Nick's and on the way, search for dryness, a spot outside of the rain.>Buy inclement weather gear at a department store up the street to weather this torrential morning storm (-$35)>Write in - ???
Rolled 7 (1d100)>>4779616>look for an umbrella to buy (and a top-hat)
>>4779665Oh no! Not the tophat!
Rolled 15 (1d100)>>4779616>See if Milly wants an escort out of the rain.>look for an umbrella to buy
>>4779616>Buy inclement weather gear at a department store up the street to weather this torrential morning storm (-$35)Could help with winter, too. And we won't show up to Nick looking like a drowned rat. why did we get spiffed up, to show up looking like we haven't?
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>4779616Oops, and a roll.
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>4779616>Go forward towards Nick's and on the way, search for dryness, a spot outside of the rain.Onwards to Nick>>4779665>top-hatA ten buck umbrella at a Walmart I can get, but a top-hat?! We're not exactly made of money here!
>>4780011Are you questioning my fashion choices? We can't complete our look without a tophat! Surely you can get one for cheap in NYC.
Awful rolling, boys. Understandable have a nice day Update incoming
>>4780608>cheap>NYCUh, bros, should we tell him?
>>4780608>cheap>NYCOnly one or the other bro, can't have both.
Milly and I let go of our heartfelt hobo embrace. I look into her eyes a while but she reads my mind: "Better get going towards your buddy, right? Don't worry about old Milly, hyeh hee heh." She dawns a long black umbrella from her tote bag, wraps the tote up in her tarp, and leaves the metal cat bowl on the floor, one-third already full of rainwater. She turns and speaks the opposite way as she walks towards her mysterious destination. "The thrift store down the street oughta have some good rain gear if ya need it, hun. And you better be staying away from Finn's Coin Laundry! Place is nothing but trouble! Full o' nothing but degenerates an' filthy litt... . . .an' sons of. . . .don't even . . . I wish . ." I watch her walk away still talking to herself. The thrift store is the place to be, it looks like. By the time I enter the ding-donging doors, 11:07AM is on my fully functioning digital watch, as well as the store's digital clock on the wall behind the cash register. "Hello :]" a young woman says from behind the register. Her balding, glasses-wearing manager scribbles on his clipboard silently in the background. "Hi, do you have anything for the rain? Umbrellas? A rain coat?" "Uhhhhhhm,,, . . . Ya! We have umbrellas, like, over here by the duffel bags and shoes and stuff!""Rain Coats?""Uhhhhmmmmmmmm, ... Hmmmmm...." She looks around a teensy bit. "Uhhhhm..." Really wracking her brain. The manager abruptly cuts the suspense. Looking up lazily from his clipboard: "No, sir, sorry. We had a few but they all sold out this morning. All we have left is kid's sizes.""Oh.... Okay, thanks." Darn.I get to the umbrella collection and there are only two. A mundane looking green one with some spokes already poking out of the fabric, a joke of a tool. And then there's the one I want. At least out of the two, that is. It's not like I have a bevy of different umbrellas I'd love to own. Never to late to put it on the bucket list, though. The Hamachi brand Umbrella XL, "MIRACLE UMBRELLA with: integrated grip support , buttons for extension and retraction , and full copper and nylene assembly! Still in it's re-taped plastic box. I bring it to the counter. I'm not settling for that dinky umbrella with holes in it. "Okay" ...*BEEP*... "This one's 24.99""Huh?""With taxes, it's going to beeee....." ...*BOOP*... She beams a pulled-cheek, toothy grin at me: "Thirty dollars!""WAI-What?! That can't!..." I burst, and the girl recoils and bats her eyes and pouts her lip in defense.The manager eyes me down again from his clipboard. Seconds later, I'm un-wadding my cash ball and paying the price for being a chump. $30.No rain coat. A miracle umbrella XL or whatever it's called. Great. Let's just walk.
The extension button won't work, but the Hamachi opens up and stays open. XL is right, this thing covers half a New York sidewalk!I walk up street after street, sipping my whiskey until I'm in the early 90's. I cross another street and some asshole cabbie is speeding, so I run to make it out of the way so he won't spray water all over my pants and shoes. A screech. I jump. Miracle umbrella?! YEAH FREAKING RIGHT!!!!!! It got caught between two street signs and it stopped me mid-leap!I slam to the wet ground. I don't feel it much thanks to the booze.I push up against the ground with my hands, and then I get gushed on by the speeding car's torrent anyways, completely soaking the back of my nice clothes in filthy street and gutter water. It's hopeless. My new clothes are trashed, and I'm soaked and cold to the bone in seconds. The only thing keeping my from breaking down right now is the resilience I've been shown from people like Milly, Joe Renning and Mr. Yu. Gotta pick myself up and keep moving. Literally and metaphorically. I stand up and dust myself off reactionarily.Across 93rd I can make out the neon sign for the Coin Laundry that Milly told me to avoid.Finn's is for some reason packed with young men in the alleyway of the building, getting soaked in rain, but only a few people are inside. The rest of the street is clearing out of the noon storm, only two other umbrellaed people still roam, one of which is walking toward me from up ahead. >Go straight down the street, passing in front of Finn's Coin Laundry. It's the quickest route.>Go the long way around, through Durndon Park.>Go the long way around, through the Satellite Century Projects.>Ask a question to or interact with the stranger heading towards you. >Write in - ???
aaaand for funsies, anInventory check:-$90-Soggy, awful clothes (wearing)-Somehow-still-functioning digital watch-Sharp as fuck, sheathed bowie knife-A single subway token-A mini Roche Motel soap bar-Grocery bag with toothpaste, toothbrush, 2 apples and 3 different types of beef jerky-1/2 bottle of whiskeyUmbrella was left behind in frustration. One soap bar was used to clean face and hands.
>>4780852>Go straight down the street, passing in front of Finn's Coin Laundry. It's the quickest route.Press on!
>>4780852>Go straight down the street, passing in front of Finn's Coin Laundry. It's the quickest routeWe're gonna catch our death if we stay out here!
>>4780852>>Go straight down the street, passing in front of Finn's Coin Laundry. It's the quickest route.
>>4780931+1Come cheer up hobos, we'll soon be in the clear!
>>4780852>Write in - ???Use the subway token to get to our destination>>4780931>>4780963>>4780989>>4781034Doesnt the laundromat seem sketchy?
>>4781187It doesn't seem sketchy as fuck. It is sketchy as fuck. That said, it's not like making good decisions is our specialty. I'm sticking with my vote, and that's final! Unless you guys want to change and go the long way via the park or something, then I might join you guys.
>>4781187I'm actually joining team subway guy.
I decide not to listen to Milly, what the hell could be so spooky about a damned laundromat? Yeah, the crowd looks rough, but I've been in the wrong neighborhood at the wrong time before, I just have to keep my head down and push through. Besides, Durndon Park is probably a mush pit by now, and I'm pretty sure whoever is outside of Finn's isn't as bad as the Satellite Century Project Crips. I just have to make it two more blocks to 95th St. and Grotten Ave., and I can avoid the rain and go underground, hit the subway system. I pass the umbrella person who looks at me with a sympathetic look, which boils the blood under my uncomfortably wet body. I grunt my frustration once and sally forth. I can see some of the hoodlums in Finn's alley covertly pointing at me and poorly pretending not to stare me down. One foot after the other, big guy. Let's not piss anyone off. For good measure, I cross the street from Finn's a block before I reach it. In the alley I make out a bunch of guys in leather jackets and/or hoodies, soaking in precipitation. Standing dutifully but also nonchalantly casually at the same time. As I walk, I occasionally peek over there to monitor the situation. My soaking clothes are starting to make it uncomfortable to walk around. My somehow-still-functioning watch reads 11:40 AM. The dark skies would trick you into thinking it's closer to midnight, not noon, though. The fourth time I look up, three of the hoodies from Finn's begin crossing the street, straight towards me. Fuck. Why???! I pick up my pace a little more... "...sheesh, lookit dis goombah..." one hardly bothers to conceal in a mid-street mutter."Yih, yeh, yehehehehehe..." another slithers out. "'s'get'em!..." Their footsteps are louder and faster now. The rain slows to a drizzle momentarily."AY, AYOO PUTZ!! YEAH, YEAH YOU!!" the third one shouts at me. I'm at the intersection of 94th and Grotten. >Run across the street and to the left, into the Park>Run to the right, disappear around the corner, into the Projects>Tell the men to stop following you, run one block straight to the subway>Ignore the men, pretend you didn't hear them, walk straight to the subway>Run inside of a nearby business/store >Confront men (how?)>Write in - ???
>>4781299>casually walk into a buisness or resturant.I dunno. Order a coffee. Do we still have the umbrella?We could try using one of those hand dryers in the restroom.
>>4781299>Tell the men to stop following you, run one block straight to the subway
Rolled 2 (1d2)>>4781503>>4781381Rolling a tiebreaker to continue
>>4782299Nice. Was gonna' vote for coffee.
>>4781503Hobo foot chase commence!
The three ne'er-do-wells are on my heels. I won't act oblivious in the face of danger. I could see these guys getting carried away and stomping me into a coma, carrying me to a dumpster, and forgetting all about me by the end of the night over a couple of beers. At a glance, none of the other leather jackets or hoodies by Finn's are even paying attention to these cretins. I make my move.I turn around, bouncing on my heels: "You stay the fuck away from me!!!!" and I brandish my bowie knife, still shiny from remaining in its sheath, despite being submerged in sewage and rainwater. One stays back but the other two fish items from their pockets and walk towards me, grinning. Shiiiit. I quickly overhand toss my grocery bag at their faces to their dismay and a little of my own. I didn't even touch a slice of that beef jerky. Usain Bolt would shit a brick over how quickly I turned and ran for my life. I run just past the subterranean subway entrance and peak around for a moment. My heart slows down and I realize I've been sprinting around while brandishing a large knife. I put it back in it's sheath and as calmly as I can, walk down the steps into the lower level. Apparently nobody saw me or chased me while I was running that block.I get about 100 feet in to the station, near the turnstiles, and search my inventory so I can continue.Inventory Check-$90-Soggy, awful clothes (wearing)-Somehow-still-functioning digital watch-Sharp as fuck, sheathed bowie knife-A mini Roche Motel soap bar-1/2 bottle of whiskeyWhat. Wait, what?!?! Where did my subway token go??I think back. It must've been when that giant umbrella failed me and I got caught in a tsunami of filthy New York water. Well, I'm here now. It's pretty crowded, and with all the punk rockers, gangster thugs, known hobos and soaked-clothing-folk escaping the weather, I feel more at ease, less of a sore thumb. My next move?>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3. Board the subway train.>Walk out and hail a cab. It'll be about $35 to reach my destination on 111th St. from here.>Walk the rest of the way. Buy some cheap, dry clothes at the first shop you see. >Sneak past the turnstiles and onto the subway train. New Yorkers ain't snitches. You live in the big apple, who hasn't jumped the turnstiles once or twice or a dozen times?>Talk to the people nearby.>Write in - ???
>>4782368Shit and cum
>>4782368>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3. Board the subway train.We should make a new rule to try and not buy stuff, and if we do to immediately consume it before we lose it. Also, we're getting low on cash, so we might want to consider mugging somebody at knifepoint for motel money or something before we freeze to death or get shanked at night (if things don't work out with Nick today).
>>4782423>>4782389Duly noted.Your faults for not specifying to eat. Come to think of it, no one even wrote in a "breathing" option? Our old boy here has been holding his breath for over a day now! Just kidding. My bad. In my heart, I know this to be true. Not the shit and cum part, but maybe, I guess.
>>4782368Shank other Hobos until you find a Subway token
>>4782368>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3. Board the subway train.Come on, guys. Let's not rob anyone at knife point until we're at least sure Nick can't help us.
>>4782453That was aimed at other players, as in what kind of mentality I think we should have going forward.
>>4782368>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3Those fuckers might still be outside, better not risk it
Sorry for no update recently, it's coming today. Keep voting for now if you like.
>>4782368>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3. Board the subway train.
>>4782457Changing to >buy another subway token
>>4782368>Buy another subway token at the kiosk for $3. Board the subway train.this is getting a little ridiculous, every other block somebody has tried to kill us. is it really this dangerous to walk the streets in NYC?
I go up to the kiosk and enter some crumply $1 bills and stick my hand out to receive a token. No one even bothers to look at me. Now this is what I'm talking about! Even on those near-empty streets I felt like I had someone breathing down my back, not here though.I enter the proprietary subway coin into the automated turnstile and receive a receipt. What a nice, gentle runaround. Unlike this whole bogus adventure that started 24 hours ago. That... Has not been gentle. In fact I still have a headache from Ronnie's lead pipe. I touch the impacted area gingerly and find a small indent next to a large bump, just a little bit behind and above my right ear. Pounding describes the sensation my skull is feeling. Like an amp's tweeter at a rave. My heart flutters and I sit down at a bench to wait for the tram. Even though the underground is crowded, the only people to talk to me along the way were the spangers and bums, playing guitar and singing, or just meekly holding out their hands and asking for help. Once they had a good look at me, they apologized for asking me for anything. I don't even have the energy to form an emotion towards them, or myself, anymore. I'm just ruggedly surviving. Nick, you son of a gun, you better at least remember my name. You've got that sense of humor, you'll laugh about all this when I tell you. The train screeches in to a halt, a caboose door right in front of me. Two dozen or so people are already at the red line, waiting to board. I stand and join them in the back of the line. A few young men and women walk out of the subway together and allow the other people to pile in. There are still a few seats empty, but every seat has someone sitting in an adjacent seat. Some are already choosing to stand. I sit near another soaked-clothes person, an elderly, large black woman with sunglasses on, despite the dreary darkness of the skies and New York underground. She makes no disagreeable sound and neither do I. The subway conductor announces to clear the doorways, that we will be departing the station in 15 seconds. I make a countdown in my head just for a fun distraction from the pain and misfortune. 12, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7...
"'Ey, over hea, ya mooks, bahahahahahh!"3 slick-haired leather jackets jump into the train. They look and sound just like the wise guys outside of Finn's. They survey the train but there are only a few open seats left scattered throughout. "Ey, Vin, looks like we'll just have to stand until we get to Mr. Montecito's place." The doors close and we slowly rocket off.Vin fires back in a condescending mock: "Mehhh, ay vinny, hey vin vin, looks like we have to stand around until we get to Mister Montecit- Oh, wouldja shut da fuck up?!" The other guy lets out a "pshh" and looks away. Vin Vin sticks a bony finger in his sternum and says "Do I really havta fukken remind you", then in a lower voice: "not to say da fukken bosses name out loud in public?! Ya fukken..." and jams the erect finger bone hard into the partner's chest, earning a flinching recoil. Then Vinny looks up at me, and catches me staring. "What the..." Shit! I didn't mean to! I turn my head away. Too late. Bootfall. Even on the crowded, multi-ton vehicle traveling at ridiculous subterranean speeds, I hear the bootfalls approaching. It's the Italians, no doubt.>Ignore the Italianos. Begin talking to the woman next to me.>Make the first move, stand and confront the Italians.>Switch trains, just get up and walk over to the next cart.>Keep my head down and wait for the ride to be over.>Attempt to cause a massive diversion/panic. Distance yourself from the approaching men.>Write in - ???Additional writing/specifications for any choice always considered and appreciated!
>>4786437>write in>panic>Don't just sit there mouth agape, you lazy bum! Do something!>Your exhausted brain return you nothing, but then something clicks>You must be crazy, you can only think of a piece one of the singers was hollering on the platforms. You start to mutterr-raindrops..>WHAT! -one of them barks>with renewed confidence you start againRaindrops are falling on my head>you were never the best singer, but this happened to be one of your favourites in karaokeAnd just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed>though the last few months have brought new kind of gravely depth to your voiceNothing seems to fit>you stand up, they have stopped on their tracks, staringThose raindrops are falling on my head, they keep falling>few annoyed glances from the strangers, you sing louderSo I just did me some talking to the sun>guess everyone is fed up with the rainAnd I said I didn't like the way he got things done>some lonely soul join your holleringSleeping on the job>time to make my exit
>>4786600I was gonna go with crazy babble again but this is even better!
>>4786437>Attempt to cause a massive diversion/panic. Distance yourself from the approaching men.Never a dull moment
>>4786600Love it. Update coming in 6-12 hours after I get some beauty sleep
Shit shit shiiiiiiiit. What do I do? A hot, pins-and-needles feeling envelops my panicking brain. Then it breaks even. I don't know what to do. Wait. Yes I do. Wait, no, why would I- C'mon!!! I can't just sit here! Fight... Or flight?!! Or... Vocal delight? Anything's worth a try right now. In the NFL, they call this a Hail Mary."So, I just did me some talkin' to the sun. And I said I didn't like the way he got things done" I nervously push out of my trembling lips, not even sing-song. A few heads turn."Sleepin' on the job~?" I cough and swallow phlegm. Now eyes are definitely on me."Those raindrops-" A few people gasp delightfully or smile. "are fallin' on my head, they keep fallin'..." I glance up and to the right, and the Italians are less than a quarter of a railcar-length away from me. Still hot on the move.I stand and throw my arms wide, like a conductor. Of music, not trains. "But there's one thing I know!!" The old obese black lady holding her cane in both hands shifts her hands and body so she can clap, and starts smiling openly. I'm singing melodiously now, charming hobo bass voice tone. "The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me!!" A few more smiles, even an incredulous, happy laugh at my unexpected belting from the back. I turn to my pursuers and smile my widest smile: "It won't be long 'til happiness steps up to greet me". Smile beaming in their faces.People are in awe. Mouths agape, eyebrows posted up. A few of them stand from their seats to watch me. "Yea-hah!!" someone encourages. Normally I hate all this attention, but right now this could save my ass. I'm sweating bullets- no, missiles. Fuckin' proton bombs, Little Boy and Fat Man are seeping out of my goddamned pores. The Italians are confused, not amused. Still moving my way. I step one full step back.
"Raindrops--"I dramatically pause and look around in every person's face, with an inviting, charming smile. "--Join in, everyone!--" More people rise, including the presumably-blind woman I'm seated next to."--keep fallin' on my head!" Myself and a few others sing, including my subway seat neighbor. There are a few ignoring the whole escapade, but some really jolly folks are standing, bouncing and singing with me. That's the only verse I remember from that song so I just keep saying "Raindrops keep fallin' on my head, they keep-a-fallin'" as I back up. The railcar's melody turns into a garbled static as everyone else fumbles over the lyrics, too. My seat partner grabs one of the Italian men and starts singing and dancing with him. "Woohoo! The raindrops, child! I love the raindrop song! Raindrops~, they keep-a droppin', droppin' and a-fallin' on ma head~!" She blocks nearly the entire aisle while doing this. The Italians try to mob past the woman, but she merely bearhugs all three at once and begins shout-singing "raINDROPS! WOOHOO, CHILD!! RAINDROPS KEEP ON A-FALLIN'! A-FALLIN' ON MA HEAD! AHAHA! WOOOOO! RAIN-" I slyly slide open the railcar door and go into the next car. Muffled: "-drops keepa fawl-...". Then nothing as I make my way through a second railcar door.The Subway is coming to a stop in a few more minutes. Two stops that aren't mine, before my intended stop on 110th St. I just keep advancing towards the front cart without rousing suspicion. What are the odds this is happening to me. I'm just a dirty bum and it feels like half the city has a bone to pick with me. >Jump off the subway at the first stop and book it. 101st St. and Jefferson Way is coming up, near the baseball stadium.>Pick up one of the free advertisement-laden newspapers, do a little hiding and spying, wait until you see the Italians leave the subway before leaving yourself.>Try to blend in for now, forget about those crazy Italians. I can give those dunderheads the slip again with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back! I'll just wait until I get to the 110th St. stop and disembark from there. >Pull the red cord and press the big shiny red EMERGENCY button. This will stop the train in it's tracks and alert the authorities.>Go back to the caboose railcar, with the Italians and the singing people. (and do what?)>Communicate with one or more people on the subway train. (how? who?)>Write in - ???
>>4788411>Pick up one of the free advertisement-laden newspapers, do a little hiding and spying, wait until you see the Italians leave the subway before leaving yourself.On the topic of old movies and spying on people in subways:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JD-K9Exe8jw
>>4788411>>Try to blend in for now, forget about those crazy Italians. I can give those dunderheads the slip again with my eyes closed and my hands tied behind my back! I'll just wait until I get to the 110th St. stop and disembark from there. Don't want to risk missing our stop!
>>4788928 cool clip>>4789277>>4789352Option 2 it is! Writin'.
I stumble and rumble through two more train cars. I keep a calm but brisk pace and politely say excuse me and please and thank you as I navigate the almost-busy carts. I pick up some of the free newspapers they leave in every corner (which don't ever actually have any news in them), covertly dry myself off in all the "sensitive" places with them, and toss the ragged, smelly, wet remains in the nearby trash can. Old bum trick taught to me by some of the local experts. It dawns on me that if those three leather men are pursuing me, I should keep an eye on them from a distance. I grab a stack of newspapers, stuff some in my pocket, and take one in hand to the next subway cart, and splay it open while taking an empty seat by the exit door. Nothing happens for the next two stops. At my stop, I tentatively look around inside the subway, now with all its interior doors open and see that the three leathers, now only one cart away, are getting ready to depart."Jeez, that lady was annoying, man!" Italian One."Huehuehue, yeh but it wud priddy funny though." Italian Two."Pish. Yeh, alright, whatever, well, we don't have all day and night to be chasin' some bum 'round town and performin' subway train kara-fuckin-oke, accapella, jolly good fella, go to hell huh, won't ya smell ma... Won't you smell... My... Uh... My tuchus?... Ah, nevahmind. Fuhgeddaboudit. Let's get to Mista M's." Italian Three steps out first, with thuggish grace, all three men having pushed and swaggered their way to the front of the crowd waiting to exit. The other two dolts slam into each other's path and bump shoulders, exchange swears, then finally exit the vehicle. They make a swift turn left and continue babbling like a brook, so I decide I can make my stealthy exit now and head rightwards out of the platform, or at least linger around and give the area some time to cool down. I wait for the Italians to move on a little further, then jump off the subway right before the doors close. I count to 100, then head up the same staircase the Italians used.I make my way out of that dingy place and get greeted by fresh air and some sunshine peaking out of the now-dormant, broken rainclouds. I survey my surroundings. The ground is already half-dry. The Italians are up the block, crossing the street already, unfortunately heading the same direction I need to go. It's hard to ignore four things: the smells of delicious hot dogs in the air, the sounds of the carnival cries of street performers, the sight of bright neon shop signs, and the feel of the pounding in my chest. >Everyone, roll 4d100!Everyone's rolls will be used, and evaluated as a whole! Rolls will be used to perform the next 4 following actions: >Buy a grape drink and a hotdog at the nearby vendor.>Interact with the street performers, StapleBoy the pierced punk rocker and Diaperchild the freaky baby>Shop for new clothing (Nat 100 on 3rd roll slot = free top hat)>Go up 111th Street.
Rolled 52, 96, 64, 32 = 244 (4d100)>>4790506>Shop for new clothing (Nat 100 on 3rd roll slot = free top hat)Let's meet Nick Miller in style, and avoid election as a bum besides.
Oops, just to clarify, we are rolling to do all 4 actions right now, and each of your 4 rolls goes towards each individual action in the order written/rolled.
Rolled 80, 57, 86, 1 = 224 (4d100)>>4790506
Rolled 96 (1d100)>>4790506
Rolled 53, 96, 14, 56 = 219 (4d100)>>4790506Tophat get!
Rolled 44, 14, 48 = 106 (3d100)>>4790740Rolling the rest of my d100's
Rolled 7, 20, 70, 11 = 108 (4d100)>>4790506
Floating straight from the stairs to the umbrellaed hotdog cart without even noticing, I start ordering grub off the menu. "Can I get a grape drink? Extra large. And two Ballpark King Sluggers, just mustard and nacho cheese sauce on one, and the works on the other, extra onions. Thanks. It's been ages since I had a good hotdog."Amidst the routine chaos of the crowd, I hear a yip and notice a bustle a few feet from a trash can. The vendor looks around, slightly nervous: "Er... We've been having issues with that word around here lately. Please call them Sluggers." I don't press the matter. The hotdogger charges me 12 bucks. "There's your Sluggers! Thanks, sir!"Instinctually, I forget to call them Sluggers. "Yeah, thanks for the hotdogszzzaaaaa-AHHHHHH-aaaaa-AAAH-aa-AA-AAAAAHHHhhhhh!!! ... !"I feel a snip right on the tip of my hobo dick.I beat first and ask questions later. "YARP!"I look down and see my old companion El Chupacabra recoiling in pain from my shove, and in my peripheral vision I see people walking away from the scene in a show of distaste. I feel bad but also justified due to the pain, and also happy to see my scruffy pal again. A little sorry for scaring away customers from this nice hotdogman. Luckily I hadn't picked up my food yet. Through the flurry of emotions, fighting off tears, I look up to apologize and get my food, and I get an apology first: "Sorry, that's why I call them Sluggers now... This poor little senile fella goes crazy anytime someone mentions... that word." I laugh it off and grab my nutrition.My dog and I settle off to the side of the street show and sit, listen and eat. I give El Chupacabra a couple bites of my nacho mustard Slugger and let him lap up three handfuls, then a slow waterfall of grape drink. I let him lick my hand so I won't be sticky. The crowd has gotten quieter, and when I look up from El Chupacabra, open-mouthed, I discover that I've stolen the show from StapleBoy and Diaperchild! Even they are watching in amazement at the quirky cuteness! I get an ovation from the crowd once they see my act is over. Most of the crowd disperses to the subway or down the cement sidewalk. StapleBoy begins taking off the staples and dollar bills from his body, dozens of $1's from his arms, legs, chest and back, $5's from his face, and $20's from who knows where. D.C. the freaky baby motions to StapleBoy and approaches me. D.C. is really just a midget with a deformity who wears a bonnet and diaper and wields a comically large rattle. It's dually more and less disturbing than one might expect. His tenor is soft and lofty like a woman's when he speaks to me. "Impressive, kid, people really liked the dog. I know you didn't mean to blow up our spot, but would ya mind next time?"
I falter and he looks me over. "...Or maybe you wanna make some cash with us? You willin' to work for an hour or two? If you got control of that pooch, you can work the noon rush with us and keep whatever you make." I can tell he feels sorry for me, but is giving me a huge opportunity. These street performer spots are held down by a mafia all their own. I take him up on his generosity, not knowing when I'll be able to get more funds. I make sure not to say hotdog again during the next hour and forty minutes. El Chupacabra ignored over 90% of my commands, but the crowd still found him adorable and donated plenty to our cause. By 2:00PM, I've boosted my wallet from a modest $75 to an impressive $282. I'm full still, but I drink some more whiskey and decide my partner needs another $5 hotd-... Slugger. The vendor just takes my money and shakes his head, having seen my show.I decide to be a little stingy with my money and time now, so I go to a nearby tourist trap merchandiser and buy an Empire State Building fanny pack, an I<3NY shirt, and gym shorts marked "PROPERTY OF NEW YORK (XXXL) ATHLETICS DEPT." Come ON, no sweatpants?! The hoodies are $45, forget that nonsense. It still costs me $40. Tch. $237 left in the purse. Fanny pack, that is.I start up 111th with El Chupacabra and peril. I've gotten this far, just to realize I don't have an exact location to go to now. I would remember the walkup, though, it had a slightly different layout that was pretty noticeable while walking by. I can see it in my head now. All I have to do is comb 111th.Choose one answer from each prompt:Write-ins accepted on all 3!I'd really like to take a fat... restroom break, and find somewhere to change. These clothes are killing me now with how uncomfortable they are.>Hold it in, and change clothes later.>Sneak into the chinese-american restaurant's bathroom.>Get a refund on your tourist crap. Go into a nearby clothing store and buy nicer, more expensive clothes. Use their bathroom and change clothes in there. >Quick pit stop behind a dumpster in an alleyway.El Chupacabra, the lovable rascal, is with me again! It really is a mystery how he got this far in a day. I wonder where Jon is? I'm not sure if Nick will want to entertain or accommodate a dog though. There's probably a no pets sign in his bookstore.>Let El Chupacabra run free again on his own path.>Keep the lil' guy, so long as he chooses to come along.>See if StapleBoy and DC will adopt my doggy.>Spend a little time taking care of El Chupacabra before continuing. Question him on Mister Yu's whereabouts and how he got here.After resolving everything else and grounding myself, I start back towards my goal. >Back to the highschool, on Hillcrest. I can backtrack the whole path Nick and I used to walk together.>Away from the highschool, towards Grotten. There's no WAY it was the other way. I think.>Begin asking around about Mr. Nedelman's old store.
>>4792234>Get a refund on your tourist crap. Go into a nearby clothing store and buy nicer, more expensive clothes. Use their bathroom and change clothes in there.>Keep the lil' guy, so long as he chooses to come along.>Begin asking around about Mr. Nedelman's old store.
>>4792234>Get a refund on your tourist crap. Go into a nearby clothing store and buy...>Decently better clothes and a good pair of shoesThe clothes are whatever... the shoes are essential>Spend a little time taking care of El Chupacabra before continuingGive the lovable mutt a nice scratch behind the ear and a hotd-, err, slugger. If he wants to point us to Yu he'll do it on his own>Away from the highschool, towards Grotten. There's no WAY it was the other way. I think.
>>4792234>Get a refund on your tourist crap. Go into a nearby clothing store and buy...>Decently better clothes and a good pair of shoes>See if StapleBoy and DC will adopt my doggy.They seem like good people, he's be valuable to him, and therefore they'll treat him well.>Begin asking around about Mr. Nedelman's old store.make sure it's even still there...
Sorry for the change-up folks, I know I said I'd be updating 2-4 times a day, and it's been more like 1-2 recently. I will probably stick to that new schedule. My apologies. Thanks everyone for your enthusiasm and participation, it keeps me going. Voting still open, update coming within the next 8 hours.
>>4795253Eagerly awaited! We're so close.
>>479525328* hours lol (Sorry!)writing now
>>4797636No worries, man--thanks for keeping us in the loop!
As soon as I reach the corner of 111th and Grotten, my guts drop and gurgle and whirl. I rrreally need to find a bathroom soon... I scan the area. No big stores I can just run into and drop trou, just fancy, expensive outlets. There's going to be security. I look down at the tourist garb in my hand and question what the hell I was thinking buying these. They're clean, though, and even have the tags still. I'll just get a quick refund, run over to PERPLEX, buy some better clothes and then drop the Browns off at the Superbowl. I reach the vendor that sold me the clothing less than 10 minutes ago. Luckily, her stand is empty when I approach. Folded and looking pretty, I extend the clothing towards the street saleswoman and politely explain "I'm sorry miss, I actually realized I won't be needing these clothes, would it be possible for me to get a refund?"She keeps reading her newspaper and points to a sign hidden behind her table, low and close to the floor. What a dirty trick. The internal liquids, solids and gases in my belly deign to become audible in a grumble for a second, then a loosening occurs, so I clench my cheeks with moderate glute strength. Lift-off occurs in T minus 30 minutes, MAXIMUM. "Look, gal, I just want my money back. Your clothes are completely fine. See? Tags and everything..." I shake and the tags dangle and pirouette. "I was here three minutes ago, you don't remember me? I was the guy asking where the sweatpants were." She moodily lowers her newspaper and glares into my eyes, says nothing and points to the sign again, her eye contact checking to make sure I see it this time. Then her ink-and-paper shield gets deployed again, cutting off our contact.This bitch.Roll 1d100 with your choice!>Speak to her again, make her understand, don't take "no" or another sign-point for an answer. Don't be an asshole, but make enough of a scene that no one will visit her stand.>This is ridiculous. She's not worth my time. I'll just wear the dorky outfit. It'll save me money, and maybe I can get lucky and use a bathroom for free somewhere, or just buy a small trinket to gain access to their commode. >What I cannot take through reason and compliance, I will take by force. By hook or by crook. Have at thee, cunt!>Take the L. I'll find another use for these clothes, somehow. Off to PERPLEX, I go!>Me? I'm a simple guy. Agreeable. Considerate. I try to be polite. I didn't want it to come to this. But she just fucked with the wrong hobo, the dumb broad. It's time for stinky street justice! I'd better get ready to run like the wind afterwards!>Write in - ???
Rolled 35 (1d100)>>4797879>Speak to her again, make her understand, don't take "no" or another sign-point for an answer. Don't be an asshole, but make enough of a scene that no one will visit her stand.
>>4797879>Me? I'm a simple guy. Agreeable. Considerate. I try to be polite. I didn't want it to come to this. But she just fucked with the wrong hobo, the dumb broad. It's time for stinky street justice! I'd better get ready to run like the wind afterwards!POOP IN FRONT OF HER DUMB STALL.
Rolled 30 (1d100)>>4797879>Take the L. I'll find another use for these clothes, somehow. Off to PERPLEX, I go!We'll use the tourist clothes as a disguise if we ever have to shank a mofo, I guess.
Rolled 5 (1d100)>>4797879>Me? I'm a simple guy. Agreeable. Considerate. I try to be polite. I didn't want it to come to this. But she just fucked with the wrong hobo, the dumb broad. It's time for stinky street justice! I'd better get ready to run like the wind afterwards!PROJECTILE DIARREAHA ALL OVER HER AND RUN
Rolled 69 (1d100)>>4798018Woops, forgot roll last night.
>69, niceThis awful woman is still pretending I'm not here, reading up on some inconsequential news story. She looked into my eyes and said "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you" without even moving her lips. At the end of the day, she's going to pack up her overpriced tourist-trap crap, hail a cab home, and go into her warm house and eat her hot food and sleep in her warm bed while I lay in cold filth and dirty looks, perpetually on the brink of starvation and sickness. Yeah, well I hope you take one more thing home tonight, bitch: an unforgettable, horrific memory. Maybe a few stains, too. You don't think you'll have a lot of "firsts" at 43. Well, this isn't a first for me. For a few months earlier this year, half the Bronx was looking out for "The Phantom Pooper". Never been caught, never will. I start looking around and decide the time to strike is NOW. I whip my trunk around, pull my pants down to dispense soft-serve justice, and let it rip. It fires like a 21 cannon salute. El Chupacabra is wagging his tail and looking me in the eyes with a dog smile, and then he shits on the ground in solidarity. Good dog! It's so loud and busy on the street I can't even hear myself pass this literal shitstorm.I perform a quick scan of my surroundings. No cops in sight. The hotdo- er, Slugger vendor is looking right at me and mutely laughing his head off, holding a hand over his mouth and slapping his thigh. This lady must not be well-liked around here. I let out a low chuckle myself, wipe my ass with the still-folded I <3 NY T-Shirt and put it neatly on top of the stack. No refund necessary now, I'd say I got my money's worth! My trousers come back up and greet my still-slightly-shitty bottom. I turn around and there are arterial sprays of chewed up and broken down frank dogs, buns and whiskey EVERYWHERE. All over the front of her shop sign and top of her table, and some drips down from the newspaper she's still holding up to her nose. The dumb broad doesn't even notice. Heh-heh, enjoy! Now I have to cup my mouth to prevent a laugh from escaping and briskly walk away. "C'mon, Chupie!" I whisper while retrieving and killing the rest of my whiskey.
Right as I hit the corner of 111th and an empty bottle of whiskey, I hear the ear-piercing, blood-curdling, banshee-shaming wail of a woman in the background, cutting above the enormous, unending din of NYC. I love it when a plan comes together. They look like ants in the distance now, but when I look back I see 2 blue uniforms hurrying over to her cart. That might be trouble, but then again she didn't see SHIT! Damn, I crack myself up. What a rush! I give El Chupacabra a head pat, a chin scratch and recite some puppy dog words. "Hooza goo'boy? Hooza goo'boy?"I reach PERPLEX and decide it'll be easier to accomplish my next mission without a Mexican Sewer Rat tailing me. I'm a few feet from the door now, the place looks expensive, but I can get a dashing pre-fab suit for under $140 here. People are so simpleminded, I'll probably get oodles and oodles of respect just for wearing it. Or is a hobo in a suit just a hobo in a suit?Roll 1d100 with your choice!>Tell the ancient dog to stay put. Walk into PERPLEX.>Put El Chupacabra in a dumpster for now so he won't run away. Plenty of food for him there, and I'll be in and out of the shop in no time to retrieve him. >Dash and grab. Money doesn't grow on trees and I don't have time to go back and work to save up for fancy suits. >Aw, screw it, Chupie is an equal, he can come in after all. >Write in - ???Inventory check:-$237 inside of fanny pack -Awful, soiled clothes (wearing)-Gym shorts -A crumpled stack of newsprint advertisements-Barely-functioning digital watch-Sharp as fuck, sheathed bowie knife-A mini Roche Motel soap bar
Rolled 45 (1d100)>>4798527>Tell the ancient dog to stay put. Walk into PERPLEX.He found us twice, he can find us again... If destiny has it in the cards.Maybe ask if they sell little doggie bowties?
Rolled 66 (1d100)>>4798527>Tell the ancient dog to stay put. Walk into PERPLEX.
Rolled 69 (1d100)>>4798527>Tell the ancient dog to stay put. Walk into PERPLEX.
>>4798945>>4798857>>4798529>69 again, niceI kneel down. "Alright, El Choops, I'm gonna need you to sit this one out." I think for a second. "Do you understand "sit"?"The old dog doesn't look at me, just shivers in place on all fours. I see a flea jump off of him. "Right... Okay." I scratch his scruff and stand up. My head whirls a bit.I walk around the corner and I get a blast from the bygone days. Further down 111th, about 4 short blocks down from the modern skyscrapers and a short, little park, I can see the brownstones, breathtaking hallmarks of the classier old New York City. The street Nick Miller lived on, and the Book Consignment Store was on.The slick streets covered in building shade, still moist from morning rain, greet more people as they return to their day, some donning winter coats to meet the challenge of a falling temperature. White clouds, only tinges of grey and black in their corners, come out and hang. My watch is cutting out now and I have to slap it and tap it to understand that it's 2:44PM. Probably. I walk in the hoity-toity PERPLEX establishment and instantly notice the contrast in the climates, as well as the sharp contrast in smells. I noticeably, involuntarily bring down the contrast of the smell. The guard at the door looks at me with a twisted look on his face, but the approaching middle-aged, suited-up salesman walking towards me just grins and treats me with courtesy when he begins his routine."Hello, sir, will we be getting something tailored today, or is your size on the rack?""hRack!" I growl by nervous accident, then clear my throat with a few coughs, whiskey breath filling the air conditioned store. "Ahem, COUGH I'm just uh, I uh, yeah, I want something off the rack, please. I need a whole suit, a pair of socks and undergarments, too."
"Erm-," visibly shaken, and perhaps stirred, "of course, sir, right away." I tell him my size and inform him I want the $140-after-taxes-for-a-whole-suit deal on the windows. He says it doesn't come with a tie, I says I don't care. He only tried upselling me once the whole time so it wasn't that bad of an interaction, I guess. He says I get a complimentary gift on the house for being a special customer. Cool. I can't tell if he's mocking me when he hands me what appears to be a kid's clip-on bowtie. The complimentary bowtie for being the 69th customer was too small for me, but it'll fit El Chupacabra perfectly when I clip it on to his matted fur. What a raunchy thing for a store to celebrate.Nice plain socks were $7, so I took a pair. Nice, cozy wool to fight the coming winter. The only underwear they have are silken boxers at $60. Nope, I'll just wear the gym shorts under the suit as my underwear. After my first suit purchase in over a decade is complete, I walk through a door with a man symbol on it. Inside it's a nice marble-tile floor-and-walls personal bathroom with golden-tinted fixtures. I click the lock and get fully naked just for the luxury of it, don't judge me. I try to use the toilet again, but I got everything out on that woman's stand back there. I drip a few drips and fully clean myself with soap and water and paper towels before donning my gym shorts (as underwear) and my fresh new suit. My tennis shoes are completely ragged and make me look like a joke with the suit, unfortunately. At least they're dry. All the shoes in PERPLEX are way out of my budget. I step out of the bathroom.A hobo's life depends on luck! Roll 1d100 with your choice!>I saw some very stylish loafers in my size, on a display somewhat hidden by some coat racks. All I have to do is finesse the staff and security and I'll be stylin' and profilin'.>If I recall, I saw a sign for a cheap shoe outlet on the way to the brownstones. I'll just pick up something cheap and decent over there.>Forget this! Ratty shoes won't be a deal-breaker when it comes to Nick. And if they are, then I'm going to have to pretend I'm some rich or successful person that necessitates suit-wearing!>Write in - ???
>>4800867>If I recall, I saw a sign for a cheap shoe outlet on the way to the brownstones. I'll just pick up something cheap and decent over there.Can't afford to have bad shoes in hobolife
Rolled 96 (1d100)>>4800867>Forget this! Ratty shoes won't be a deal-breaker when it comes to Nick. And if they are, then I'm going to have to pretend I'm some rich or successful person that necessitates suit-wearing!Maybe we're a jogging freak, a real fitness nut who burns through shoes. He doesn't know.
Rolled 54 (1d100)>>4801041Forgot to roll like a chump
Rolled 82 (1d100)>>4800867>>Forget this! Ratty shoes won't be a deal-breaker when it comes to Nick. And if they are, then I'm going to have to pretend I'm some rich or successful person that necessitates suit-wearing!
Rolled 86 (1d100)>>4800867>I saw some very stylish loafers in my size, on a display somewhat hidden by some coat racks. All I have to do is finesse the staff and security and I'll be stylin' and profilin'.We just gave a shopkeeper the ol' chocolate rain, we're not above a five finger discount
>>4802214Yeah, but this guy was nice to us. He gave us a doggie bowtie. It's one thing to shit on a spiteful shopkeep, but to steal unnecessarily from a goodly one while we're riding higher than usual?
>>4802342>>4802214>>4801744>>4801163>>4801060>>4801041Forget this, what am I, a diva?! Shoes? I'm just counting my blessings I've made it this far; not too long ago, I woke up in piss, and who knows if it was even my own? I don't. Probably a mixture, was my guess. Now I have a clean, dapper suit and a dapper dog by my side, almost a hundred dollars in my pocket, and some new stories to tell. I'm almost near the end of my goal, and I'm ready for whatever the future holds! I've got to keep looking up!So I look up. And I ignore the street people distracting me from my goal.And I pass through the park unabated, only further enticed by the beautiful day. And I see the same advertisement I saw on the city transit bus, this time on the backrest of one of the bus's benches. "Reading matters." The same woman and dog. And before I know it, I see the walkup to Nick Miller's old building. And it is... reeaallyy old. And worn down. And condemned by the State of New York.I keep looking up, and onward. I remember now, the location of the store Nick wanted to own one day. I can't even ask his old neighbors, they've all been evicted, and I'm not going on a wild goose chase squared, or cubed. This adventure, thrilling as it may be, will take a turn if I don't find any clue of Nick or that book store. Sorry, everyone, no player interaction for this post. Stay tuned for the approach to the book store! Soon, this particular journey makes it's... (what's the opposite of a maiden? a crone?) This journey will make its crone voyage soon. I may take some extra time to get the end of the journey prepared. A sincere extension of my gratitude and camaraderie to all the anons who joined me and each other on this quest.
Rolled 53 (1d100)>>4797879>Me? I'm a simple guy. Agreeable. Considerate. I try to be polite. I didn't want it to come to this. But she just fucked with the wrong hobo, the dumb broad. It's time for stinky street justice! I'd better get ready to run like the wind afterwards!
>>4802543Do you mean "swan song" or "farewell voyage" or something?
>>4803436Viking funeral? Idk
Apologies to anyone waiting for the next leg of the story. No time recently due to work, yadda yadda yadda ;-( Next story post coming tomorrow.
>>4808180As long as you're not ditching this one for the other thread before our big finale!
>>4809320Definitely not! This is like my baby, the other one is more like a red-headed step child. I plan on resuming in ~4 hours!
Rounding the bend and I feel like Alexander the Great. "Nedelman's Book Consignment Store" is still there, with new signs and storefront decorations. I let El Chupacabra snoop and sniff around. I take a deep breath and head in. Bing! One of the Italians from earlier is staring at me with a broom in his hand. I look away from him and he spits "Hows can I helps ya's today, suit?"An older gentleman from the back of the shop: "Hello, welcome! Please, don't mind mi famiglia, it's his first job.""Sorry, suit. Sorry Mr. Montecito." He takes the broom to the back of his supply closet and fidgets around in there. "What can I do for you?" Mr. Montecito says.>"Do you know someone named Nick Miller?">"I remember coming to this store as a kid, Mr. Nedelman was so nice. How did you come to own this place?">"Apparently it's not your famiglia's first job, Mista M. They've been chasing me around town!">Write in - ???
>>4809611>>"Do you know someone named Nick Miller?"
>>4809611>"I remember coming to this store as a kid, Mr. Nedelman was so nice. How did you come to own this place?"
>>4809611>"Do you know someone named Nick Miller?"
>>4809611>"Do you know someone named Nick Miller?">"I remember coming to this store as a kid, Mr. Nedelman was so nice. How did you come to own this place?"Don't call put the Italian. This is a front, most likely.
>>4809633>>4809677>>4809720>>4810135The air smells like way too much cheap cleaning chemical, and an air-conditioned draft makes the air stale and somewhat bitter to the taste. Regardless, I crank out a smile. "I remember coming to this store as a kid, Mr. Nedelman was so nice. How did you come to own this place?" The bald Italian man quickly recounts a story about how he happened to meet Mr. Nedelman at the end of his life, right before he died. His story is that Mr. Nedelman longed for someone to carry on his legacy. He pauses for a moment and looks up and says in my eye "Gentle soul. A real soft, soft soul." Yeah, that's great, who cares about Nedelman. I continue on with my quest: "That's so interesting, I have a friend, by the name of Nick Miller? Heard of him? He actually had hopes of buying this store himself one day." A renewed glance around the store and I realize there are almost no shelved books, in fact there is random furniture scattered throughout the stuffy store. The supply closet slams. The young Italian is looking at me and approaching fast. The old one stares, too, but is still. Now both of their faces are like stone. "What da fuck? No, what da fuck did you just say?" the young one starts. Mr. Montecito doesn't seem interested in holding him back this time, in fact, it looks like Mista M is really disturbed right now, almost about to cry. "How are you gonna come in here and talk to my uncle about that sick SCUMBAG?! Why I oughta! I oughta knock yer head clean off yer shoulders! Get outta heeya," spittle blasting my skin, "N O W!" The young buck is right in my face, wrath oozing, dripping and running like maple syrup.>Try to calm down and confront the men politely, why is this happening?! I've come this far, I can't let my search end just because I'm getting yelled at and threatened by some Italians, I'd never be able to get anything done in New York if that were the case. >Run away to the nearby park. Come back and snoop on them and the property later.>Attempt to bribe them for the information >Brandish bowie knife: "Alright, that's it! I've had it!! Get out of my face, punk! Tell me what I wanna know!">Sullenly apologize, give up and go "home" A.K.A. a trash can.>Write in - ???
>>4810269>Brandish bowie knife: "I'VE KILLED A HUNDRED PUNKS LIKE YOU IN THE WAR, SOME WITH MY BARE HANDS! ALL I WANT TO KNOW WHATEVER HAPPENED TO MY OLD FRIEND I HAVEN'T SEEN IN YEARS. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!? JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW AND I CAN LEAVE THIS FINE "ESTABLISHMENT" IN PEACE!
>>4810269>Try to calm down and confront the men politely, why is this happening?! I've come this far, I can't let my search end just because I'm getting yelled at and threatened by some Italians, I'd never be able to get anything done in New York if that were the case.from the sound of things, the bullied kid did not turn out a kind soul.
>>4810269>Try to calm down and confront the men politely, why is this happening?! I've come this far, I can't let my search end just because I'm getting yelled at and threatened by some Italians, I'd never be able to get anything done in New York if that were the case."Sick? Scumbag? I went to high school with that guy... he was always real nice to me. What happened?"
>>4810269>Run away to the nearby park. Come back and snoop on them and the property later.
Despite this Italian kid yelling moisture into my eyeballs and shocked-open mouth, I stick it out. I'm not getting turned away so easily like some flimsy plastic knife on a $3 steak. "Sick? Scumbag? I went to high school with that guy... he was always real nice to me. What happened? Where is he? I need to find Nick Miller!" The Italian kid puts his mitts around my cheap suit and roughly pulls me in closer, jostling my alcoholic brain. "Call 'im a nice guy again! Do it!! Ooo, I fukken DARE YA! Say 'is name jus' ONE mo'ah time! I bet you don't know that sick FUCK like WE know 'im 'round 'ere!!"What did you DO, Nick?! From the sound of things, the bullied kid did not turn out a kind soul. I'm more intrigued to find out about my old pal than ever before. The only stronger feeling right now is panic, directed towards Montecito, his nephew, and their intentions!"Look, I'll tell you the truth!" I panic. >I'm just a lonely drunken hobo, looking for an old friend to help pull me out of the hole I dug for myself. >Truth is, I don't know who the hell Nick Miller is or has been for the past 25 years. He was a high school friend of mine, he could be dead for all I know. But by the way you guys are shook, I'm guessing that's not the case, though. Why don't you guys tell me more and maybe I can help you find him?>[Lie] Wait!! Stop!!!!! I'm actually just trying to serve Mr. Miller a summons!! I work for the Greater Court of New York! He's wanted for uhm... Well, uh... I'm not supposed to say this, but *whisper:* tax evasion.>*Kick the kid in his nuts, throw clutter around the store as a diversion and run out, screaming rape/fire/bloody murder*>Write in - ???
>>4813981>>Truth is, I don't know who the hell Nick Miller is or has been for the past 25 years. He was a high school friend of mine, he could be dead for all I know. But by the way you guys are shook, I'm guessing that's not the case, though?But don't offer to help find him until we know if that's necessary, what they want him for, etcetera.
>>4813981>[Lie] Wait!! Stop!!!!! I'm actually just trying to serve Mr. Miller a summons!! I work for the Greater Court of New York! He's wanted for uhm... Well, uh... I'm not supposed to say this, but *whisper:* tax evasion.Fuck it!
>>4814072+1. also avoid saying "Nick Miller" again, we were told in no uncertain terms that the name is not to be uttered.
>>4816086Fair play. "Truth is, I don't know who the hell... That guy... is or has been"?
"P-please, I don't kn-know N-Nick M-m-mi-" The Italian kid balls his fist harder and pulls it back. I wince. "Th-that guy!!! I d-don't kn-know that guy!!!" There's a subtle noise in the background I can't decipher. I barely manage not to pee my pants. "He- I haven't seen him in years! He was an old high school p-pal. He could be dead, for all I know-" The kid eases his hold on me and looks to the store's now-creaky, slightly open door."I was just trying to find him because I'm trying to turn my luck around and he-" I get stopped. "Shut up." Montecito dryly and sternly says to me, then looks at his nephew and motions with his eyes to go check the door. The youngster follows his uncle's command, this time pulling a pistol from his waistband and cocking it. He's halfway to the door, then the door slams shut. The kid hurries his way to the door and hesitates to open it. Montecito curses. He doesn't seem to be armed himself, and he's still sitting in a stool behind a counter. What mess did I sign up for, looking for my old friend? What to do...>Take cover behind a couch and stay silent.>Hold Mr. Montecito hostage with the knife.>At the last minute, ambush the kid and run out of the door screaming.>Jump out of the nearby window and escape.>Write in - ???Big spoiler coming upSeriously maybe just wait it out a few more posts before you look at that last spoilerThis will lead to Hobo's Epic's last update!
>>4816630>Take cover behind a couch and stay silent.do like the noble roach
>>4816630>Take cover behind a couch and stay silent.It's Nick Miller, here to save us and to take back his rightful throne as Man Who Owns a Bookstore!
Voting and quest closes in ~12 hours
>>4816630>Write inUse the chaos as a distraction to steal some shit, then>Jump out of the nearby window and escape.
Rolled (1d0)The youngster cautiously creaks open the door. I take cover behind the dusty, random furniture and poke my head out to watch what unfolds. Montecito won't take his gaze off the door. He trembles. I thought they meant serious business before, now I'm sure they do! As the youngster creeps, a familiar ragged boot knocks the door into his nose and then the door barrels into his chest, flooring him. The door flies wide into the young Italian's crotch as the early Winter afternoon sun shines in. The visage of tattered, stained rags fretting through the air in the doorframe is a welcome vision of a hobo guardian angel.Simultaneously, all four of us have something to say:"Howdy-ho, pasta bitches!! Wahahahaha!" -The Intruder"Nick? Nick Miller?! Wha--!" -Montecito"OW, WHAT DA FUCK?!" -Youngster"Toothless Jack????? What da fuck?!?!" -MeThe man in the doorway laughs heartily and phlegmatically."What do you mean Nick Miller?" I ask Montecito, who is now frozen and seizing up. Actually, it looks like he convulsing. Now he's reaching for air..."Hi, buddy!" Toothless Jack waves to me with his toothless grin. "What are you doing here?" I look towards Toothless Jack while he talks, then back to Montecito. He's still holding his arm out and now he's gripping his chest. I stand over him, and his eyes are bulging... *POP**POP**POP*Gunshots go off and I involuntarily trundle a few inches forth. I look down at my leg, then back at Montecito's face, whose gasp is now just a gape. His eyes have rolled in different directions. He's not moving.I look down to my leg again. A small red circle grows slowly. Then quickly. Now I'm floored. B-blacking out...The last thing I see... Toothless Jack... Nick... J-Jack??? The last... The l-l-last thing I s-s-... Last thing I s-... Last thing I seeee-... Unhh... Nick Miller... standing. Standing over the kid. My eyes... Close...*POP*I'm black... blacki... blacking... ow... ow... out... ...Black and blur. Nothing else. Then I get shook."HEY MAN, C'MON, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? WAKE THE HELL UP! WE GOTTA MAKE LIKE A BANANA AND SPLIT, MAN!! LIKE, NOW!!"I feel... My body... being lifted... Picked up over his shoulder-AHH FUCK he dropped me on my bad leg... Ba-ba-bastard... So much blood on the f-floor... Montecito... Still frozen in... Death? Frozen in death... I feel every plank and chair leg pound my organs whilst being dragged out the door. I finally see a clear New York sky. I hear my old buddy speaking to me. I can't make out the words, though. Fading...Fading. . .f a d i n g . . .The End.?___________________________Thank you all! I'd like it if you could leave a comment, question, feedback or otherwise. Thanks!
>>4819451>d0We never stood a chance, didn't we?
>>4819451Waiting for Hobo's quest part Deux: My Cybernetic adventures in the year 2079
>>4819451We were looking for a Nick who was, who would never be again. The Nick Miller we had was just... Not the real him.Deep.
>>4819489From where you're kneeling, must seem like an 18 karat run of bad luck. Truth is, the game was rigged from the start>>4819539Hahaha! Not a bad premise. Maybe they'll advance Slugger technology to previously unimagined heights by then.>>4819827In time, we may earn a deeper look into Toothless Nick's world. In time. Maybe like a few months time. Yeah.
>>4819451>quest suddenly ends in a giant shootout the moment of Nick Miller's revealWell, that came out of left field followed the advice on the two warning spoilers but I can't say it's out of place with how zany this quest has been. Anyway, the requested comments and feedback:The writing isn't great. There are mistakes I see repeated often enough to notice. For example, the capitalization is spotty (in the conversation with Renning letters after ellipses are capitalized, "god" in his dialogue isn't, stuff like that). Also, the punctuation often feels off. Sometimes sentences feel like they could use a comma or be broken up or combined. I guess that might just be a preference on my part. Also, to bring up a pet peeve, quotes that are interrupted are separated by commas, not periods. Bringing up an example from a random novel I have lying around: "It won't even be so dangerous," the Greek was pleased to say... instead of "It won't even be so dangerous." The Greek was pleased to say..."Btw, regarding writing quality, don't think that I'm some master of the English language. I'm shit at writing and would often drunkpost through updates with borderline incoherent sentence constructions.Grammar Nazism aside, I think the looser, more casual style actually works pretty well, especially for a quest that doesn't take itself so seriously. I feel like a lot of quests do take themselves too seriously, and it's nice to have stuff that embraces the looser, "shitposting" nature of this site. Oh, and if you were trying to have a srs bsns quest, you definitely fucked up with the teleporting dog, mooks straight out of a NES game, and the NYC Chocolate Surprise iykwim.One thing I'd like to see more of is the characters. With this sort of quest I feel like characters take precedence over plot. El Chupacabra was one of the high points of the quest, as was insane reptile man. When I saw him I for sure thought Reptilian Supremacists would be recurring random encounter. Also, I'm not sure how late into the quest you came up with Jack=Miller, but some more mentions of him/foreshadowing would have been cool to put in as bonuses on a reread. I'd say the biggest plus here is just finishing the quest. I'm serious and don't mean it in a "participation trophy" sense, by the way. Most quests on this board don't end, I think in large part because people treat quests like an RPG campaign. This quest felt more like a one shot in terms of length, or maybe a film. It's certainly a big improvement from the wrestling one, which failed to have an ending, turning a decent quest into garbage.Overall, I think highly of this. It's actually made me want to run a similar length quest of my own (even if I can't make a new thread myself) and gives me hope we'll see some of the myriad shitposts on this board occasionally amount to something. This hasn't been the only one, of course.
>>4821696I still hold that El Chupacabra had plenty of time to make it to the other side of town! You're right about the characters, I think, especially since the main character is nameless and vaguely described. I had some planned detours, but didn't know if the quest was dragging, it seemed most people wanted me to get to Nick (maybe as more of a jumping-off point than a destination, but what's done is done). For instance, I wanted to bring Yu and reptile man back for a scene with El Chupes, but felt it would've taken too much time. I was going to have a very dark and tragic scene involving the homeless woman Milly, but creating that tone felt slightly out of the wheelhouse (as well as a detour from Nick), so I just left her.I definitely underestimated how 'easy' it would be to write this. I don't have anything written down or planned too far in advance. I should've made a diagram/matrix or something to help me organize my thoughts better. By the time I thought of Nick = Jack, it was late into the story, maybe a week and a half back, and I felt bringing him up too much could have been too foreshadow-y; I was wrong. I wanted it to be a little bit of a surprise, though. Hopefully you didn't feel like that was lame or a middle finger to you as a reader. I'm still contemplating doing a part 2, through Nick's eyes this time, or maybe through our same humble narrator and friend. Or just a new hobo in a new city with new problems, adventures and friends. Make it fresh. Either way, this thread will not be required reading if I do decide to do "part 2", weeks or months down the line.>Also, the punctuation often feels off.That's just my in-house writing sty->Sometimes sentences feel like they could use a comma or be broken up or combinedOh yeah, that. I am pretty bad with run-ons/fragments. I can't even help myself sometimes. And the dialogue lesson is a welcome refresher. Thanks, pal.>the wrestling one, which failed to have an endingIt... Yeah, that sucked. Towards the end, I rushed updates and got lazy at the final stretch. I couldn't find it in me to slow down and write my best ideas. Really blew through it at the end, which I regret. It did have a (shoddy) end, though, it's in the previous /qtg/. It was kind of stupid, though, so I'm not going to hunt down the archive link.>loose, shitpost actually finishedShitposts are the best. On the other hand, there are quests that seem to take themselves so sternly, then fizzle out anyway. At least if a shitpost quest dies in 50 posts, I still got some laughs in. The "srs bzns" quests that die before 100 posts just take me halfway up the mountain and then leave me with a broken sense of adventuring. Like quest blue-balls. I hope we see more quests getting finished, too. Thank you, I really appreciate your thoughts! Thanks for coming along on the Epic.