[x] That fissure in the ground.

This could be interesting.

[X] A more different shrine.

Just cause.

[X] That ominous lake.

This will never not be the wrong answer.

[X] The graveyard behind the shrine.

[X] That ominous lake.

We shall conquer the lake ONCE AND FOR ALL!

[ ] Why is there a boat flying up here?

Not enough stories located on a nice boat.

>in which any recognized author can update however he or she wishes
What's a recognized author?

[ ] Why is there a boat flying up here?

Not enough stories with Nice Boats involved.

>>152224
>>152226
Let me guess, error?

[X] Why is there a boat flying up here?

gotta have them flying boats.

>>152225
Probably anyone who actually has a story around here.

[x] A statue of a giant penis.

Why not?

[X] That Ominous Lake

Because we need more lake drowning in this thread.

[x] Other (Probability Space Hypervessel)

I don't know if I'm going to write for this story, but I'll follow it anyway.

[ ] That ominous lake.

Well, common sense and all.
I always wondered where that meme about the lake started, it's everywhere in here.

>>152242
It started in the very first story on THP (the one originally from /jp/.) The main character killed himself by diving into the lake because the voters loved trolling.

You land heavily on the deck of the ship and look up at a ring of magical girls looking down at you.... Wait, What kind of cockamamie bullshit is this? A Nun? A Ghost Pirate? Some sort of Tiger thing? Seriously, who writes this shit? Next you'll be giving me zombies and shapeshifting raccoons. Fuck this, next paragraph.

Suddenly, the skies look dark and the floor feels softer. You can see stars around you, cuddling you like you chose its route in some sort of terrible VN. But they aren't the stars you know. The ship feels more like... a shuttle. A thumping sound rings through your head like bad techno after a few too many pints.

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" cries the brownishly pink haired girl who was thumping your forehead. That's right, you were dreaming. A lot of the same shit you've been dreaming of recently actually. You were in the middle of being taken to "Waiting Station: Warm" on your first call to work. Space stations tend to be cramped places, but being one of the larger ones, it seems to be quite spacious.

The pink haired girl slowly pulls you up, her somewhat cute, birdlike ears and wings twitching furiously as she winces from the activity.

"Jeez man, you sure are heavy." She puffs quietly. What does she know anyway? She a fucking assistant, a grey shirt, the lowest fucking job on the ladder. Not you though. you look down at your assigned jumpsuit. It's ______

[] A lush green, perfect for a plant lover.
[] A sterile white, for the doctorates in all of us.
[] A brown and grey combo, oddly fitting for ordering packages with a couple of drunks.
[] A robusting red. When just speaking the law just doesn't cut it.
[] An industrial yellow. So you don't get radiation stains from the singularity.
[] An official blue. For being second to one, you can't wait to meet Ianiji, the Corgi Youkai.
[] Contrasting red and white stripes. Orange you glad I didn't say banana?
[] A dull grey. Quit lying to yourself, you're on the same level as these bozos.
[] A divine black with a white collar. Someone's gotta bring these religions into line.
[] A fetching white shirt. Class, Dignity, Bartending.
[] A double breasted coat. Cooking has never been so stylish.
[] A rubber grey and purple uniform. Because someones gotta clean up the mess afterward.
[] A sleuthy white shirt with a trenchcoat. You'll find the traitor, even if it takes your life.
[] A standard grey. Infiltration complete, Now to take down that fucking AI.

[x] A sterile white, for the doctorates in all of us.

I know absolutely nothing about Space Station 13.

[x] A leather trench coat with black leather boots, gloves, pants and a short sleeve shirt all complete with your trademark sunglasses.

Maximum Wesker!

[x] A standard grey. Infiltration complete, Now to take down that fucking AI.

I have no clue on what I'm supposed to do in order to write. Are we supposed to post in the thread, if we're interested? Or is it just "I wanna update, have this kthxbye"?

>>152248
Seems that most of the writers are in the IRC channel and have a gentleman's agreement of "dibs" and "whoever writes it first."

[X] A standard grey. Infiltration complete, Now to take down that fucking AI.
-[X] And while you're at it, why not devour some of these weaklings and take their sweet, sweet DNA.

Changeling? Why not?

[X] An industrial yellow. So you don't get radiation stains from the singularity.


Maybe it's just me, but I can't help but wonder if there shouldn't be some restriction on the ability to throw out whatever the previous writer posted unless absolutely necessary.
For the voters, it would be nice because they won't have their votes rendered pointless, while for the writers it would add a bit of a challenge if they can't just go all "Whoops! All that shit never happened!"

It just seems like a waste of a perfectly good opportunity to challenge yourself, honestly.

[x] A sterile white, for the doctorates in all of us.

Anyone who says brains are useless hasn't yet made their own explosives.

[X] A fetching white shirt. Class, Dignity, Bartending.

[x] A sterile white, for the doctorates in all of us.

>>152250
>IRC
Aw bollocks.

>>152244

Damn it was kinda interesting until this random space bullshit.

[x] A standard grey. Infiltration complete, Now to take down that fucking AI

GET DAT FUKKIN DISK

White. Sterile white.
The White of Sterility.
A white so sterile, the effects stretch all the way into the distant past, rendering your great grandparents infertile long before you were even born.

Your grandfather, not yet even a zygote, will never breathe his first breath, let alone knock up your grandmother on prom night after promising her to only “stick it in just a little, just to see what it feels like” and instead plunging his not-yet-wrinkly meat-saber all the way to the hilt while doing his best to sound like it was completely by accident.

But it wasn't by accident.

Not that it mattered.

The paradox of your existence is one that gnaws at your sanity on a daily basis, the constant threat that causality and the universe itself will, at any moment, come crashing down upon you like an avalanche hangs over your head. A constant reminder that, on a station full of things that should not be, you reign supreme above them all.

Not in rank, of course.
Goddamn bureaucrats.

It's no wonder you started drinking.

Alcohol got you by for a while, of course, but eventually you found yourself craving for more.
Cleaning supplies, medicines, even that shit they pump into Hydroponics.
It didn't matter to you. You still drank it.

You drank it all.

But it wasn't enough.

You want more.

You need more.

“Wha-?! H-hey! Where are you going?!” your pink-haired crew-mate calls after you, but you do not stop to answer.

Running down the hall, vomiting blood as you go, you know what it is you must do...



[ ] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.

[ ] Sabotage the control room, and crash this shit into the fucking Earth. It is a good day to die!

[ ] Wake up. Oh! It was all a dream! Again!

[ ] GENUFLECT

[X] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.
-[X] Better get the Hulk Super Power first though.
--[X] If that doesn't work, sabotage the control room, and crash this shit into the fucking Earth. It is a good day to die!

Just another day on Space Station 13!

[x] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.

[x] Masturbate.


Yes.

>>152419
Your average /th/ anon.

[x] Masturbate.

[X] Masturbate.

[x] Masturbate to yukkuri.

[x] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.

[ ] Sabotage the control room, and crash this shit into the fucking Earth. It is a good day to die!

It's the only way to be sure!

[X] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.


We have to end this honorably.

[x] You force your way onto the bridge, buck naked, with a katana. Leave no survivors.

Your gratuitous spewing of the tomato juice of life has turned your shirt the color of those nasty orange fleshed potato like vegetables and pinstriped the hallway floor.

Looks like you've drawn the attention of those rubber men with their mops and acids. Man are those good drinking. You duck into a lavatory, not caring to notice the triangle instead of the rectangle. Red shirts always die. You aren't a red shirt. You're a no-shirt. You punch the glass on the weapons locker with a bllody shirt wrapped fist and grab a katana as a towelled female with short silver hair yells at you to freeze.

Everyone knows no-shirted men are awesome. What do awesome men do? What else but show their meaty power!

You throw your pants at the female and escape into the hallway. By some coincidence, the doors to the bridge open as you pass them only 100 feet away from that lavatory.

While everyone gawks at your sculpted form, you make swiss cheese of the mouse eared communications officer, bring judgement to the crowned green haired captain, give the psychologist a steel mindfuck, and extrude a hole through the twin ponytailed engineer's fluid pump.

Your form now spattered crimson once more, you are enveloped in a nuclear energy ball as you hear the bridge door slide open, grinning ear to ear and saying "..."

[ ] "It was a good run."
[ ] "It's a good day to die! Why don't you join me?"

>>152501
what

>>152509
That's the entire point of this. You never know whats going to happen next.

[x] "I was never really on your side."

>>152519
I know that,its just that in my opinion that part is written so weird that i have no fucking clue what is going on anymore.

>>152539
It's "Gnu-San". What were you expecting?
At least, it proves that standards to write in this story are really low.

[x] "It was a good run."

[X] "It was a good run."

[X] "It was a good run."

[X] Hail to the king, baby.

[x] "It was a good run."

"It was a good run." You relax your body while saying, and think of all the acrid bubbling fluids you could have drank as your intestines bubble with exponentially increasing cancerous mushrooms. All the more awesome you could have been as your hair falls out from the roots all over your body. All the cockamine bullshit dreams you could have had in someplace called gensokyo, as your brain matter wriggles with cancerous worms.

All the beats your heart had left, as it is the final part of you to burst, the iron from the blood atomizing into heavier elements, which float to the floor with nigh a wimper.

[x] "It was a good run."

"It was a good run." You relax your body while saying, and think of all the acrid bubbling fluids you could have drank as your intestines bubble with exponentially increasing cancerous mushrooms. All the more awesome you could have been as your hair falls out from the roots all over your body. All the cockamine bullshit dreams you could have had in someplace called gensokyo, as your brain matter wriggles with cancerous worms.

All the beats your heart had left, as it is the final part of you to burst, the iron from the blood atomizing into heavier elements, which float to the floor with nigh a wimper.

You are dead.

And yet, you are not. A body is just a sack of flesh, a straightjacket for the indomitable spirit of Man. Free of your sinew restraints, you soar high, and yet you stay in place, absorbing into yourself the surrounding psychic waves, stray desire spirits and other semi-ectoplasmic filth that clogs the border of life and unlife.

You remember what your long-gone father told you right before his spiritual departure. “Son,” he said, his eyes quickly turning gold, “You and I… we were never human. We were always more… and less.”

You remember that day very well. From the break of dawn, it was raining, as if the nature itself was weeping the tears of never ending sorrow, tears that were moisturizing the dismal streets of the shitty satellite town you grew up in. The rain was heavy, the nearby nuclear power plant was barely visible, and minor traffic accidents were frequent that day. One of them was yours.

You were at the wheel, and you really should have paid more attention. The windshield wipers barely did their job, and you should have waited a bit before rushing to the grocery store like that. But you didn’t wait, and it was only expected that a strange, two-tailed mutant cat that ran across the road would cause you to lose control and smash, at a speed of nearly ten miles an hour, into the ever-unblooming cherry tree at the side of the road.

You cursed, untangled yourself from the blessed seat-belts and reached for your cell, but the battery was dead, and you returned home, only to find your father next to an unlit fireplace, an old family album at his lap.

“Son,” he said, as he never was quite able to remember your name, not since the accident two years ago that involved a visit of a strange multi-tailed fox. “I want to show you something.”

There was deep sorrow in his voice, and you decided to postpone the delivery of the news about the new front fender your car would need. You sat next to him, and he showed you the picture, the oldest picture in the album.

“Well, yeah,” you said. “That’s a postcard with our great-great grandmother Cari, her sister Reni and daughter Cheyenne, at the Japanese-themed masquerade held in our town in 1856.”

“No, son,” your father said slowly, his eyes quickly turning gold. “This is your true grandmother. You and I… we were never human. We were always more… and less.”

And then he crumbled into dust, his spirit took the form of a seven-winged golden phoenix, and he took off to the heavens, to become one with the infinite stars.

But you, you are different. You are not bound by a single, predetermined psychic shape. It is the time of your second birth, and you may choose, yes, choose to be what you want. And so you become

[ ] A titanic, devastating snail.
[ ] A spellbound, undulating floating mushroom.
[ ] A satanic wraithwight, hoarder of severed limbs.
[ ] A youkai sunflower.
[ ] A bitter, world-weary daemon hunchback with a weird ability to understand the needs of women.
[ ] Just a plain, boring human once again. Because the last time, it went so well.

[X]Fuck yeah GIANT SNAIL

[X] A titanic, devastating snail.

And now, the real game begins.

[X] The dragonborn.

Come on guys...Dovahkiin in Gensokyou is long overdue.

>>152683
Hmmm, interesting idea. I'm going to alter my dinosaur vote slightly...

[x] The prophesied and waking dragon.

[x] The prophesied dragonborn.

This seems fine.

[x] A titanic, devastating snail.

When is a giant snail NOT the correct option?

[X] A titanic, devastating snail.

This idea is SO good. I almost forgot to pack SALT.

[x] The prophesied dragonborn.

You become the balancing component. Your father became a fenghuang and took to the heavens to shine in glorious eternal rebirth, but such a transformation will unlevel the very form of the cosmos without a counterweight. All these years of chaos in your heart, this virulent madness in your mind, the disequilibrium everywhere finally reaches a peak threatens to tear you apart.

And in a sense, as the dark scales begin to form on your skin, it does.

The singularity in the center of the station breaks free of its bonds as the nuclear blast from the bridge destroys every control system and containment field this flying piece of scrap metal has to offer. Entire tiers instantly buckle under the gravitational pull of the black hole. The devastating atomic energy begins to be siphoned off in a long arcing trail, giving the ball the appearance of a doomed comet. The effect of the combination is devastating though.

As the first bit of energy cuts through the ship and enters the super dense carcass of a once great sun, every subatomic particle begins to vibrate with a terrible purpose. As the neutrinos dissociate themselves from their temporal positioning, cascades of tachyon particles are released and flood the bridge at faster than light speed.

You never see it.
You never hear it.
But dear gods do you feel it.

And then everything goes black. And white.

[The universe will always try to balance itself, even if only for a second. A second is all it really needs to get the job done. It’s the moments after that which we really need to worry about.]

Like blood from a punctured organ, your existence begins to flow out and separate into two distinct opposites. Your beautiful claws seem to dissolve away before your eyes as they trickle down into the swirling pool below, where two strange bodies continue to circle each other in an endless cycle. In a sense they are both human, just as they are both distinctly dragon. Sadly in the end onlookers will simply see are two avatars of rival forms. So be it.

The tachyons continue their long dance through time and space, but for you the trip seems instantaneous. Your brother stares with burning rage at this indignantly. Intense resolve is your only reply. At the final moment, you are split from your other self and tumble back into reality.

***

Not again… runs through your mind as the ground beneath seems to materialize. Your stomach lurches at the feeling of free fall as you being to plummet towards the rural landscape which rapidly rushes up to greet you with a friendly handshake and terrible bone crushing death. Within seconds the terrible lightning and thunder that briefly filled the sky abates, leaving you momentarily stiff and deaf.

“Fckyu” is the only sound that emerges from your clenched jaw as you curse your situation and flail wildly. Lush green forests and murky brown-blue water seem to grow exponentially from below, framed by tall proud mountains. Truly this is a beautiful land. You attempt to simply take in the view; however it becomes obstructed by a flash of well worn wooden planks and sudden darkness.

***

“I think he’s waking up,” squeaks out some excited voice.

“Shhhh. Give him a moment,” softly chides a woman be your side. Her voice is stern but soothing, like that of a mother to her child.

Pain. So much pain. Your head is pounding so hard that it’s nearly impossible to open your eyes, yet you manage to squint enough to grasp the situation.

“Where….am… I?” Your voice is as rough and dry as sandpaper.

The woman with long brown and purple hair next to the bed smiles warmly. “Sir, you seem to have…oh my, how should I put this?”

Someone injects for her. “You fell out of the damn sky and landed butt freaking naked on the ship! You nearly took us down with you! I just got my Palanquin back and you almost destroyed it,” growls an annoyed girl just outside of your sight range.

“Wha?” you weakly manage to reply. The woman frowns as she removes a damp cloth from your forehead and replaces it with a freshly chilled one.

“Sir, are you from Japan? You’re appearance and words are strange to us.”

This entire situation is strange. The last thing you remember is falling, and before that was…..was….

“What…year?”

Your caretaker gives a puzzled expression for a moment, and then brings a finger to her lips in thought.

“I believe on the outside they would call this the 24th Year of Heisei,” she replies carefully. “Elsewhere they would call it…two thousand and…twelve? Here it is simply known as the year of the water dragon.”

[ ] Write-in

[x] Do a shoryuken.

[X] Where the hell is my ebony mail?
[X] Who's foul sorcery commands this demon ship?
[X] Why do I hear the sound of roaring in the distance?

[x] Where am I? Who are you?

[X] FUS RO DAH