AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
Finale (Points: 170/240 Matches: 60/69)
One Winged Angel it is. You produce the long-hidden bongos and solemnly begin to tap out the eerie bassline to the tune. Full orchestration accompanies your playing, and a chorus begins to chant in the background. The swirling music draws Sephiroth, cloaked in flames, inexorably back at you.
"You called?"
A minor explosion launches the blond chick with the Buster Blade at you. You grip the sword in your hands. The girl grunts and whines a little, trying to push you back. His force is actually considerable, and it is almost enough to keep him from being crushed, bug-like. But you are mother****ing Donkey Kong. Waxing disdain, you bend the blade, starting from the tip, all the way to the handle. With your release, the girl falls flat on her face. The weapon in her hands is now, for all intents and purposes, a Mobius Strip: a scientific curiosity but of no practical application.
"Nice work, Donkey!" Alucard yells, from his precarious position. You direct your eyes over. The Elf, of unnatural height, now wears the painted face and silver hair of a God. The Italian. of ten times his normal mass, pounds the ground with his considerable rump. Alucard counters the drastic sweeps of the Elf's sword, impaired by the quakes that arise from the Italians buttstomps.
You return to your music. Sephiroth burns furiously in front of you. His bright eyes radiate the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. You, in turn, strike out One Winged Angel as a furious sort of justice. The flames surrounding grow in intensity, following the rising lead of your song. The chorus rejoins, but no longer is it in the familiar language of Latin.
Donkey Kong
Get yo gun
Someone gonna die
Someone gonna die
Everyone else too
The connection between these English lyrics and the plight of you and Alucard is not readily apparent, but it's not like you need everything as explicit as the Bible to give it a serious interpretation.
Swords sparkle and blood flows like whiskey. Alucard's silence indicates success. Time slows down dramatically for you. Alucard raises both hands in triumph before two slain enemies, a process that takes hours. Sephiroth swings his sword, but in the ten seconds that his blade takes to reach you, you draw your Coconut Gun and fire it into Sephiroth mouth. The first round break his face. Flawless, feminine facial features contort and rip apart. The second shell hits the first, transferring to it all of its energy. Sephiroth's skull expands, but it is not enough. The head implods from its front. Blood explodes from the impact and rains down upon you. Sephiroth's entire body twitches; his long arms launch the sexual curve of the Masamune in a parabola, impaling the girl with the folded blade.
Sephiroth emits no final plea of despair, no drama. The remains of his skull hang limply from a broken neck. The lifeless body collapses, and the mess of red-stained silver hair flops apart. Brains leak out, the brains of a demi-God. Even in their deceased oozing, they remain more vital than the typical American high school student. The sight is gruesome. An unbelievable volume of blood pours from the gaping head wounds and spreads across the ground, flooding it. You glance casually at Alucard.
"No problems here," he asserts, wading through what is becoming a rising pool of blood. You follow him through Sephiroth's filling. It is now at waist-level and has evidently flooded the ocean, as well. Even your feet now barely touch the ground.
Within a few minutes, you are swimming aimlessly. Sephiroth's corpse has pumped enough blood to the multitudinous seas incarnadine, turning the green one red. The blood submerges the entirety of the island, and you swim through it, unsure of your goal.
Alucard is yet in human form, swimming awkwardly through the red wash that you believe is the Pacific Ocean. A poor swimmer, some of Sephiroth's blood gets in your eyes, and you are unable to see clearly. "Over there!" Alucard tells you, gesturing. You can only squint. Reddish tint covers you. Your only indication of response is general waving of your arms.
Desperate hope for contact... alleviation. Your fingers close around something thin, wooden, rod-shaped. With your left hand, you hoist Alucard up by the scruff of the neck and extend your grip: You ensnare another wooden rod, horizontal, parallel to the first. They are undoubtedly the rungs of a later.
Dripping, coughing, excreting blood from every imaginable bodily cavity, you deposit Alucard on a ship. You flop a little to drain your drenched fur of the liquid, though nothing ensures total cleanliness.
"I am quite tired."
Alucard, somehow perfectly clean, strolls over to a black coffin and climbs inside. "It was good working with you, Donkey. You were an integral part of The Plan."
And he shuts the lid. Powerful longing and nostalgia overwhelm you. Alas, poor Alucard. You knew him...
There is a coffin next to Alucard's, considerably larger and surprisingly comfortable-looking. Compelled by the forces of evolution, tiredness, and the pursuit of Christian imagery and metaphors, you move toward it, slowly lift the lid, and lower your body into the bed of humus. It's time for a long, long nap. Slowly, powerfully, your eyes close.
You're mother****ing Donkey Kong. You deserve it.
Fin
SD
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Battle Royale, Part 1 (Points: 122/144 Matches: 53/61)
Now he's done it. This has gone on for far too long. You scrunch your forehead, squeeze your fists, pump your forearms, and unleash an unstoppable holler. KONG. KONG. DON-KEY KONG.
"Now you've done it," Alucard informs Sephiroth, who appears merely amused by your display of ferocity. "This has gone on for far too long."
"Hmm." Sephiroth merely smiles at you, illogically not attacking you while you are powering up.
"You know," says Alucard conversationally, "If you want to stand a chance against him, you'd better whip out the Masamune against him."
Sephiroth laughs, pointing his sword at you. "I've killed tens of thousands. He hasn't even killed nine thousand."
The other three look on like little serfs under Sephiroth's almighty aura. "I think I finally understand this 'Island of Champions' idea."
"You do?" Sephiroth raises an eyebrow. "That's good! I was beginning to be afraid that you didn't realize that the entire point of bringing all of you here was so that I could be the lord, extending my domain of evil unto the greatest defenders of justice - and to bring them crashing to their knees amongst themselves! World domination is only a step away - if it weren't for that idiot ape, I would have killed you and destroyed humanity by --!!"
"Actually," Alucard interrupts, "It was all a part of the Plan."
The point of his Sephiroth's blade looks and leaps to Alucard's head, but the vampire dissipates into mist, backing off a yard or two out of Sephiroth's range. With the greatest contempt and a fruitless effort to appear disdainful, Sephiroth again speaks. "Well them, you chumps, go get him!"
The redcoat, the woman, and the tights-wearing elf sprint from their positions, heeding their God. Alucard goes under in a tangle of fireballs, Buster Swords, and Light Arrows. Sephiroth, meanwhile, turns back to you. You have finished shouting.
"Time to get epic!" yells Sephiroth, stabbing forward. You sidestep it and move in, punching Sephiroth in the jaw. In a normal fight, that would be a knockout, clean and simple. But it is not a normal fight. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and this is Sephiroth. As a result, your punch does not send Sephiroth backwards, but rather makes his entire body rigid. You feel an exquisite resistance; visible energy ascends and explodes from the location of impact. The sky darkens, a thunder clap slices the atmosphere, and melodramatic, theatrical rain starts pouring down for no apparent reason.
Tensed up with the force of the punch, you are too stiff to counter when Sephiroth retracts his first thrust and cuts to your flank. Manly blood spurts from your side and stains Sephiroth's cascading robes. He flings you hard to dislodge you from the unparalleled length of the sword's jaws. You smash into the mud and sink in a foot and a half.
"Nice coup de poing," chuckles Sephiroth. "Let me show you mine."
His sword ravages you, seeks you mercilessly in the most curious combination of slicing and poking. Breaking free of the mud with difficulty, you are nearly powerless beneath its persecuting point. All of your attention shoots to the diversion of it - a duck, a shove, a roll...
BANG! A bullet whizzes from behind Sephiroth. It stirs the warrior's supremely feminine hair. The firer is and sees the headless body of Solid Snake, still poised to fight. The simplistic side diversion works; Sephiroth becomes angry and attacks the body. The body, in turn, runs as fast as it can. Sephiroth follows, a fallen angel slaying a headless snake.
(A) Whip out the Coconut Gun and own yourself some Sephiroth ass. No one escapes mother****ing Donkey Kong.
(B) Take a look at what's going on with Alucard. That Italian looks huge from here.
(C) Take a nap. It's never hurt before; why should it hurt now?
(D) Bust out the bongos and start playing One Winged Angel. Complete with remastered lyrics.
SD
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Samus vs. Tifa, Zelda vs. Yuna, Snake vs. Mega Man, Sonic vs. Crono, Samus vs. Zelda, Snake vs. Sonic, ??? (Points: 106/128 Matches: 52/60)
Appetite yet uncut, you clap Alucard heartily on the back.
"Arugah," you say, and pull him sportingly but forcefully with you down the streets of the city.
"Look, Donkey." He resists a little, leaning backward against your arm - as if that's going to do anything. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong. His weight counteracts the inertia of your body as a marshmallow counteracts the motion of a truck. "Where exactly do you think you're taking me?"
Never much one for words, you steer Alucard easily into the local Starbucks and seat him across the table from you. "You know I don't drink coffee, hell anything but blood," he says rather exasperatedly, "Hell, I don't even like people."
You smirk, lifting your hand a little. For once in this crazy island experience, you know exactly what's going down. "What exactly do you think I'm going to order?" Alucard buries his face in the menu, flipping through the menu. He remains enshrouded in it for a few minutes without response. Then he begins to lower it again.
"As I expected, nothing that I --"
He stops, eyes wide open, unsure whether or not they can see anything. White fabric, stretched tightly beyond all imitation of decency, lingers under his nose. Slowly, determinedly, he raises his gaze to meet soulful, dark, feminine eyes. There is a moment's silence, to though Alucard, it no doubt seems to last a lifetime. "HelloooOOOOoo Nurse!" he resonates.
"Hey there, hot stuff," says Tifa, reaching down Alucard's shirt and stroking his chest.
"Actually," Alucard responds, all suaveness and cool, "I'm Undead, so you'd be calling me "cold stuff" if you really knew me."
"That's what I meant." Tifa winks widely. "Anything I can get you boys?"
"Didn't know you were so slutty," Alucard tells her breasts.
"Only for you, sweetie." She kisses Alucard on the cheek and backs off. "I'll make Donkey here a sandwich," she purrs.
"You do that." Alucard turns back to you as Tifa leaves the table. You and he exchange manly, knowing smirks. "You know, I don't need to get laid this badly."
But you only continue to smirk at him.
"Yeah," he concedes, "It is part of the Plan."
Tifa returns, arms overflowing and back curving with your sandwich. It is a beast of a submarine, nearly matching Tifa's chest in girth and spanning two meters in length. She staggers before handing one end to you and collapsing over her end. You effortlessly relieve her of the burden and, widening your esophagus, cram the entire length of sandwich down your throat. Its length expands and protrudes against the lining of your stomach, but you only press harder, until your fist is six inches down your esophagus. The emptiness of the last few weeks vanishes utterly, becoming memories that you will never again know.
Tears flow from your eyes. Satisfied, you wipe away the tears and resign yourself to watching Tifa's groping Alucard. This activity would keep your content stomach entertained for the next two hours if not for a sudden infernal noise and the tearing down of the cafe. A pedo-bait girl in a thugged out dress is twirling a little staff at you while a giant horned firegoat thing is ripping apart the city. Alucard jumps out of his seat at the table, but Tifa only presses down harder.
So the burden lies with you. The fire-breathing monster attacks you, and you duck for cover. Its fireball misses spectacularly and incinerates the rest of the cafe. With the spirit of Daniel Boone, you leap to the top of the goat-like horns and bring the devil down to earth. When its face smashes into the ground, it jerks violently and dissipates into white light. Fortunately, this white light is not enough to swallow you up.
The girl, looking terrified, twirls the staff and does some weirdo dance steps. As the skies darken and the Earth trembles, you strike a badass pose. The girl summons Shiva, God of Ice; you summon Mega Man and Sonic the Hedgehog, who are actually utterly useless. They leap at the Aeon and are quickly encased in the densest and most deuterium-filled of ice. A high-pitched whistling sound assaults your ears; their impact causes them to shatter into a hundred thousand bite-sized pieces. You shoot a glance at Alucard. He is waving his sword. "Stand strong, Donkey!" he yells, a task made difficult indeed by the fact that his tongue is in Tifa's throat.
You do the most sensible thing: Run. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, but you are not stupid, and you do not intend to get your ass frozen. It is a most unpleasant sensation; the last time you had ice cream, it took several days for the brain freeze to wear off.
Your excape is short-lived. As you pick up the entangled bodies of Alucard and Tifa, you hear a metallic sound of a sword being drawn, followed by a sound of steel skewering flesh. You turn your gaze down and actually stop running. Perhaps the tenth pink-clad princess you've seen is holding a regal sword becoming of her stature, stained with blood. Alucard leaps out of your arms, somehow disentangled from Tifa. You drop your eyes to the woman in your arms. Her top is burst; her magnificent chest pierced and destroyed. Fresh blood pumps out of the wound.
Alucard takes a second and a half to draw his sword, assume battle stance, and strike the guilty weapon from her hands. She raises her hands to cast a spell, but Alucard cuts her dress at just the right angle, spinning her to face the back. She releases the uncontrolled blast straight at the summoned Aeon. Shiva howls and vanishes. The summoner girl begins to twirl her staff yet again, but you are far faster. You bound over to her and graciously snatch the summoning device from her hands. She looks up at you, pleading; you snap her staff and her neck.
Meanwhile, Alucard duels the princess. His sword lashes out at her, leaving her essentially incapable of attacking at all with all of her defense. The very image of aristocratic dueling, you think. Who the hell would use a sword when he could use a bullet?
Pew! A muffled spurting sound cuts through the clash of metal and hits the princess through the heart. Slowly, you look into the single uncovered eye of a white-haired old man in really, really hot spandex.
"Looked like you boys had a bit of trouble," he says, unnecessarily blowing the tip of a state-of-the-art American SOCOM pistol with silencer.
"Who the hell are you?" Alucard de-materializes and re-materializes in less time than it takes to say "Solid Snake."
"Solid Snake," says Solid Snake.
"Well, Solid Snake," says Alucard, sword to Solid Snake's throat, "I-"
Alucard stops talking abruptly as Solid Snake's head flies off of its shoulders. In the devasted city grounds, there stands Sephiroth, shimmering, God-like, flamboyant, overcompensating, hyphenated.
"Sorry about the Deus Ex Machina," he drawls. The voice slithers and slathers around your ear canals and won't get to the ****ing point. It is a voice that you would like very much to destroy.
"We have some unfinished business."
You tense up, raising your gargantuan fists. Alucard moves toward you, backing you up.
"Wait!" Sephiroth laughs. "Two on one? that hardly seems fair. I have some friends."
From the sky cascade the most fascinating group of individuals. To the left is a redcoated Communist with a South-European mustache and ridiculous accent. To the right, a yellow-haired woman with striking eyes and a sword that matches the size of the sandwich oozing through your intestines. And right behind Sephiroth, there is an elvish man in green clothes and tights, aiming a very serious-looking bow.
"Ready for some fun?"
(A) Take on Sephiroth first. He has messed with you for ****ing long enough.
(B) Take on the plumber fellow. You can't tell why, but you have this intrinsic desire to kick his ass. **** Sephiroth. Your instincts take priority.
(C) Put it in that blond woman. And by "put it in," you mean your foot into its throat.
(D) Sit back, take a nap, and let Alucard handle the situation. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong. He has a Plan. That's the way things work.
SD
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Samus/Rikku, Tifa/Peach, Zelda/Aeris, Yuna/Chun Li, Snake/Yoshi, Sora/Mega Man, Sonic/Luigi, Crono/Auron (Points: 82/88 Matches: 49/54)
You cringe a little under Alucard's critical glare, the almighty power of the Plan oppressing you. You stand, hands folded behind your back, at military-like attention. His eyes sparkle in the sunlight like aluminum foil.
"I'm hungry," Alucard decides. "I'm going to dine."
The idea sounds brilliant to you.
"Time for some blood."
Your appetite changes. Uneasily, you give Alucard a little salute. The corners of his mouth twitch a little, hinting at a smile, or perhaps at disgust. "Care to join me?"
You back away, squirming at the reddish tinge in his eye.
"Your loss," he says, and turns into a giant bat.
Where do you begin? It feels like it's been weeks since you last ate. No one seems to ****in' acknowledge how much pain your stomach has been suffering over the last God-knows-how many days. But now... now, you aim to rectify those accursed, damned mistakes.
So you decide to make yourself a sammich.
The quest should not take you too long. Using superior knowledge of cardinal directions, you thrust out one arm and spin, accelerating until you can no longer distinguish the scenery rotating before your eyes. When you stop, the moons of Saturn are pressing hard against your dazed mind, but you shrug them off and head directly forward.
Mother****ing Donkey Kong's instincts are never wrong. In under a minute, a city appears upon the horizon, illuminated from the west by the setting sun. Caught up in the poetry of the moment, you do not consciously notice when you trample something scrawny and unattractive on your path. Indeed, normally, you wouldn't even notice her even after you ran her over, but today is somehow different.
"EEEEEK!"
The screeching Hertz knock you flat on your face. The electric jolt of pain on your nose sends a spasm through your body, flipping you onto your back. Your jaw drops open; you lie incapacitated slightly, twitching, panting. Your eyeballs, along with the rest of your muscles, flicker out of your control. From your broken vision, you see a very familiar creature rising from whence you trampled it.
Her hair color is that indescribable shade between yellow and brown, styled just how you least like it. The bare minimum of clothing encases a pale, melonin-deprived body. The general figure of it is rigid as a board and flat as your Samsung LCD monitor. And it is beginning to whine again.
"Aaaai remember yoooou!" it calls. You convulse, arms tightly clenched to your person. "You're that mean moooonkey!"
She towers over you, a blank, unreadable smile twisting her facial features. Your vision, impaired by the torture that your ears are suffering, cannot distinguish whether the expression is malicious or merely stupid.
"Are you okay?" she enunciates. The power of the voice stimulates you once again, but as fortune would have it, this time, your limbs twitch in such a way that your fist shoots out and crushes her vocal chords.
Instantly, the paralysis becomes mobility. You regain full control of your body. Every ligament aches, but you pay no heed to the comparatively minor disturbances and lactic acid buildup, as you bore into the throat-clutching slut before you.
Inexplicable pleasure courses through you; the realization that you are no longer vulnerable intoxicates you and grants you a temporary streak of unlimited sadism. Lovingly, you smash her face, breaking her jaw and ensuring that her voice will absolutely speak no more. Her panicked eyes look out at you, exuding relished fear.
Payback. You slam your fist into the upper echelon of her head, softly enough not to shatter her skull but hard enough to swell her eyes shut. Blood pours down the front of her face. You allow it to decorate your fist. Next come her wrists. You encircle them in your grip and grind them easily to dust. Ignoring the writhing, you grip her behind her neck and under her buttocks and compress her spine to forty percent of its original length. The popping sounds have a musical quality to them. Fueled by the rhythm of the demolition, you crumple her up into a manageable ball and roll her, bowling ball-like, off the edge of the planet.
"Oh dear," says a voice behind you. Its frequency is irritating, but far more tolerable and survivable than that of the beast that you have just slain. "Whose castle is getting me now?"
You lift your gaze back toward the city. Two pink-clad princesses are examining you with fascination. You can hardly blame them for staring. You are, after all, mother****ing Donkey Kong. Why shouldn't women be fascinated with you?
But these females seem hostile. The speaker yanks a projectile out of the ground and hurls it at you. Enraged, you bat it backward, tripling its velocity, giving it enough force to carry the speaker off of the island, lacy pink ass first.
The second girl regards you sagely, without passing judgment. She has no pressing personality, only a genuine likeability. But she does not speak, only sucks you in with her infusedly blue eyes.
Seven feet of blade enter and exit her body, forming a curious orifice in her chest. No blood spurts out, but she arches her back in instant death. A tall, silver-haired swordsman stands behind her. He seems built in the form of Alucard, but as a legitimately heterosexual male, you can say that he is far less physically attractive.
And thus, he is useless to you. You snap your fingers, and a green teletubbie-style dinosaur saunters out of the sunset and to your feet. On its way, it tramples an Asian girl that was foolishly trying to camouflage herself in blue. You mount the lizard and charge the silver-haired man, but he merely impales the rubbery steed as he did the flower girl. You slide down his blade, still sitting on the shishkabob dino.
Frantically, you dodge the next ensuing thrust of the swordsman and take off. He gives chase on foot, waving his sword, host of two dead bodies. You burst into the city streets like Paul Revere and begin yelling, "The British are coming!" in your rap voice.
To your utter surprise, the first door that you pass opens in your path. You run right through it, removing it from its hinges, and stumble to the city's ground. The door's opener, a spiky-haired kid with a key, walks out and places his hands on his hips. His gigantic shoes occupy a large portion of your vision, but your eyes lock onto the silver-haired menace behind them.
"Now just what do you think you're do-"
The third victim of the Deus Ex Machina joins his two predecessors on the Masamune blade. You scramble to your feet, and the swordsman continues to give chase through the city streets. To his collection he adds a green-clad plumber.
Zap!
Just as the silver dude is about to overtake you, a bolt of lightning saves your ass. A redheaded swordsman has finally taken up the challenge against the silver-hair - and in high style. The two engage in a fight of epic skill and proportion involving many derogatory words on the part of the hunter - "Infidel! Do you know comprehend the power of Jenova!?" - and much silence on the part of the redhead, whose eloquence cannot be summarized with sordid ellipses.
The duo expend ki with a deathly finality. The loser will clearly never again see the light of day. Hours pass; it is well into the midnight hours before the fighting slows to the point where you can actually see what is going on.
"Halt, noble Crono!" The redhead freezes.
Alucard has again materialized out of nowhere. "I will be your second!" he calls out chivalrously. Crono looks relieved, and then the blade passes through his chest and flings him up as the next victim.
"Sephiroth!" yells Alucard, drawing his blade.
"Good evening," says Sephiroth, vanishing from sight.
There is a long silence. Alucard stares into the deserted city street, pondering the loss of a great ally.
And then a moment of consideration.
(A) Have Alucard make you a sammich. The fight was just getting intense.
(B) Go to the nearest deli and make yourself a sammich. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and you are gonna do what you've gotta do.
(C) Find a nice cafe and get a hot waitress to make you a sammich. Then chill out and have an intellectually stimulating conversation with Alucard as you eat.
(D) Get ye gun at the most expensive bar and get drunk off your ass.
SD
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Sunday, November 05, 2006
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