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 Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 9:10 pm
In all of my days eather watching or playing the sniper game, I have never seen such a short one. Game VII was the shortest round, being only six days long, and was the first game that the sniper killed the Crazed killer, and the first game the Iorny Gods where pleased. It was also compleatly run by Internalharddrive, and my second game!
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Game VII memberlist
1. HirunHikari (6) - Sniper
2. Wrendraith
3. Uta Arashi
4. Monotone (2,4,5)
5. [.Lexii.]
6. gthb
7. Lady Rai
8. psycho_ladii
9. Roger Silverwood
10. buzzkid24
11. inasanemonkey1230
12. Roy Salamandra
13. A Dragonflys Sin
14. Kashi1 (1,2)
15. Return_of_Watanuki-san
16. linkey17ny
17. Druki
18. KingShoy
19. JuneBug
20. Ismaru Windsoul (3,4)
21. Padme Potter of Hobbiton
22. Cadet Particle
23. HDogXero - G-team
24. Parking Lot (3)
25. FortenraAskasa
26. Lingui
27. Ginny Amidala of Hobbiton (3,6)
28. Eikichi Taro Stalth
29. [Cherry.Wine]
30. `Christa
31. Shigaiko
32. Egotistical Moose
33. Scelero
34. fears (3,5,6)
35. Amigo_amigo_amigo (3)
36. Chronology of Antagonism
37. Saint Alain
38. Bialystock and Bloom (3)
39. Bullet Rift (1,2)
40. Jeff Jarret
41. Blond Haired Kid
42. `Gamemaniac - Newsreporter
43. Insomnesiac - Crazed Killer
44. Ho` Shiz (5)
45. Smrtboy
46. Nantooski (2)
47. Merumiharu
48. M_U_L_E
49. `Nymphie
50. korikun the cat (4)
51. Imaginary Fear
52. Kitty Krazy
53. Zaeyde (4,6)
54. Loode (2,3,4)
55. IflanaNifi
56. Mychryynrie
57. The_Limetiger (5,6)
58. A n g e l z
59. Kimilia (1)
60. Heart Shaped Toastie
61. Takazawa
62. Phoenecia (6)
63. Red_Head01 (5)
64. pottersprincess
65. Anael De Ezra - G-team
66. The Peanut Smuggler (4)
67. Merty
68. Kazuma Ishimaru (3)
69. Dukes
70. Mori Bokusochi
71. Labtech 103 (1,5)
72. Lyzz the Dark Beast (6)
73. [[.Parsley.]]
74. Magnius of the Chaos (3,6)
75. `Aine Chievious
76. Iron_kitsune (1)
77. weddingsakura
78. Sieg Reyu.2
79. VlanzO (1,2,5)
80. Tsukasa67
81. kenshinsg
82. Veliofi (6)
83. Kairi_The_Savior (5,6)
84. =TifaII
85. Anagove
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Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 9:12 pm
As usual, vote here only.
The warden sat at his desk, calm, relaxed. He sighed and closed his eyes. He leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and placed his feet on his desk. The jail was empty. All was quiet. Peaceful. There were no crazy yells, no homicidal jailbirds, no dangerous Chyaku Norisu influences, and no monster insurance-rate-raising hugs. For once, he felt…happy. It was blissful. It was-
“WARDEN!”
He nearly fell out of his chair. Feet were promptly placed back on the floor. “Yes?”
A tall, thin man with a hawk-like nose walked briskly into the room. His eyes seemed to pierce the warden’s very soul. He grasped a pipe in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other. Swiftly, he removed his deerstalker coat and hat, placing them on the rack beside the door.
“Warden, I am here to relieve you of duty.”
The warden’s jaw dropped. “What? You can’t do that! Who sent you?”
“That does not matter. And yes, I can do this. And I will. Under your care, the jailbirds have been killed, killed each other, consumed each other, created havoc, destroyed the city, and instigated a nightclub. All of this happened under your very watch, but yet you did nothing. Therefore, I am taking over this position.”
“But this isn’t fair!” the warden spluttered. “You haven’t even asked for an explanation-”
“Blatant neglect has no explanation. You sir, are a fishmonger!”
The warden blinked. “A what?”
“However,” the strange man continued, “I shall let you remain in your position if you can answer one question.”
“What question?”
The man turned towards the window in grave silence. Suddenly, he whipped around and shouted, “Do you know why the caged bird sings?!”
The warden laughed. “Of course I know why the caged bird sings! Because…he’s…he’s…he’s hungry!”
There was a long, cricket-worthy silence. Then, the man said tersely, “Goodbye, Mr. Warden.”
BLAM
The warden was dead, though not by the strange man’s hands. The man bent down, picked up the warden’s hat, put it on his own head, and sat firmly in his chair. There was definitely a new warden now.
And the killers were abroad.
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Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2006 9:13 pm
As usual, vote here only.
Scelero fidgeted. She didn’t understand the change. She was expecting to be shoved into jail, witness the new jailbird, and participate in whatever comic relief would occur due to her experiences. However, instead of being able to relax in a jail cell, completely (that is, we hope) safe, she was brought to the warden’s office. She stared into the silent face of a completely unknown man who looked disturbingly like he just stepped out of Victorian England into a western, thanks to the warden’s hat.
“Now,” he intoned, sitting back in his chair with his fingers interlocked, resting on the desk. “You may go free.”
“Free?” Scelero blinked, flabbergasted. “But…they just put me in here! Aren’t I supposed to be subjected to bone-crushing hugs, nightclubs, and fashion parties?” she whined.
“Not anymore, no,” a thin, humorless smile flitted across his face for precisely two milliseconds. “But first you must answer one question.”
“What?”
He glared across the desk at her, like an IRS agent ready to pounce on the unwary taxpayer. “Do you know why the caged bird sings?!”
She blinked and tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? African or European?”
There was a long silence. The temperature in the room seemed to drop below freezing.
“Of mice and men, you are the weakest link,” he seethed. “Goodbye.”
A trapdoor suddenly opened up beneath her chair, and Scelero screamed as she plummeted into embracing darkness.
---Later That Night---
“What are you talking about? It’s only 80 degrees Fahrenheit, not 451!” inasanemonkey1230 glared.
“Well,” FortenraAskasa grinned, “it was in 1984.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am not.”
“You have no proof!”
“Oh, but I do. You see, it happened when it was the tale of two black cats who were called to the wild to take part in a club based on joy and luck. They ran into the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s court, but it turned into the hunt for red letters, which were both scarlet and purloined.”
“Oh. I see. Guess what?”
“What?”
“I hate you.”
Before Forten managed to reply, there was a sudden noise. The two whipped around to try to see the source-
SWIIIISH, THUNK
Forten toppled over with a number of arrows sticking out of his back. Ina screamed and started to run, but she noticed a piece of paper clinging to the end of one of the arrows. Slowly, she edged forward and grabbed the fragment. She scurried away, across the hills and through the grasses until she finally felt safe.
Panting, out of breath, she unrolled the paper.
She blinked.
“Big Brother is watching you?”
BLAM
Apparently, seeing the hole left in Ina’s head, Big Brother was doing more than watching.
Scelero has been jailed, FortenraAskasa has been killed, and inasanemonkey1230 has been shot.
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Posted: Wed Jul 26, 2006 8:13 pm
As usual, vote here only.
Padme Potter of Hobbiton tapped her foot. The chair this “warden” had offered her remained distinctly empty. She glared at this strange hook-nosed man who seemed so out of place among the warden’s various possessions littering the surroundings, such as a golden spoon.
“You’re not the warden!” she growled at him.
“On the contrary, madam, I-”
“…Did you just call me…madam?”
“Yes, I did, but I do not understand why that would be a problem-”
“You! Answer my question! Where is the warden and what did you do with him?”
He picked up a pipe and twirled it between his fingers. “Well,” he pursed his lips and rubbed a hand against his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll answer your question if you can answer mine.”
“I asked first!” Padme snapped.
“Yes, but you see, I have no reason to answer your question. But if you could tell me one thing, I would be quite willing to accommodate you.”
Padme stood in silence for a few moments before she sighed. “Okay. Fine. What is it?”
“Tell me…do you know why the caged bird sings?”
“That’s all?” she blinked. “That’s all?” she laughed derisively. “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard! Surely you can do better than that.”
“Answer the question.”
“Fine. It’s because of 42.”
The new warden spluttered. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s elementary, dear ‘warden’,” Padme crossed her arms. “It’s the answer to life, the universe, everything!”
He sat in silence, twirling the pipe in his hands thoughtfully. Finally, he said, “Hm. This requires more thought. In the meantime, you may go. To your cell.”
“But you haven’t answered my question!”
“It will be answered…in time. If your answer holds up. Now, go.”
Padme ended up in her cell that night. However, the warden apparently failed to notice that his office was now missing a golden spoon.
---Later That Night---
While he was not a duke of Earl or other such nonsense, Dukes still lived in style. Well, not everyone would call it style. But it was his style, and he was proud of it. But, apparently, there was a catch.
“22?” he moaned.
The strange person in front of him nodded. “22.”
“But I can’t do 22 chin-ups!” he whined. “How can I win a free trip to Willoughby when I can’t do what you want me to so I can win it?”
“How do you know until you’ve tried?”
Dukes sighed. He looked at the bar in front of him. Grumbling, he grasped the bar and started to pull his weight onto it.
Unfortunately for him, the bar was not stable. It broke, and he tumbled with a scream onto what he thought was secure ground, but instead it was a pit. Seeing the time it took for him to finally reach the bottom, it was a very long pit.
Thus, it proves that chin-ups are perhaps more evil than Crazed Killers.
---Later That Night---
It was around midnight. 12:42 am, to be precise. `Nymphie knew, because she watched the clock circle around in its endless path. Each tick was like the toll of a bell. It rang softly into the room, like an omen of death. Like the black cat crossing the path, like the broken mirror with seven years of bad luck in its wake. Her breath seemed to meld with the clock’s sound each time it rattled out of her chest, like a shriek of doom.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
In her hands, clasped tightly with chalk-white fingers, was a baseball bat. Though compared to the sniper’s rifle, would it do any good? She didn’t know. All she knew was the horrible feeling that she was going to die.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
All the lights were still on in her house. As if in some attempt to warn the sniper that she was still awake, that he, or she, would not catch her unaware. She was prepared, and yet how could she possibly be prepared to face her own destruction?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. With a scream, she lashed out with the baseball bat and struck the clock. It shattered and fell to the ground in a crash of glass, springs, and broken metal. But she could still hear it ticking, ticking in her mind, pervading her thoughts like a dagger. It was like the monster that would not die, the monster that would not sleep. It was there, always there, coming from the walls, the ceiling, the very depths of her mind.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
With a sob escaping her throat, she rushed for the door to lock it, but suddenly it swung open. She gasped and stepped back to find the sniper standing before her, rifle in hand. Her heart skipped a beat and dropped into her feet.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
With a scream, she cried, “The bell tolls not for me but for thee!” and raised the baseball bat over her head to strike-
BLAM
As Nymphie collapsed to the ground, her last fading thoughts were simple.
”Tick. Tick. Tick.”
Padme Potter of Hobbiton has been voted off, Dukes has been killed, and `Nymphie has been sniped.
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Posted: Fri Jul 28, 2006 7:07 am
“Sniper! We know it’s you! Give it up!”
weddingsakura sighed. “It’s not me! You’re wasting your time!”
The Gaians, still, left her in the cell. No warden was in sight. Sakura sat down on the bed and fidgeted. She suddenly was aware of eyes. Looking up, she saw Padme staring at her, hard.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Padme snapped.
Sakura blinked. “Well-”
“Dig,” Padme handed her a golden spoon.
“But there’s no jailbird. We’re safest here.”
“Not with this crazy warden. He keeps prattling on about some stupid singing bird. Dig if you want to live.”
“But-”
"But what?"
“This has all ready been done. The narrator is blatantly ripping off old stories and must be punished.”
Padme blinked. “Those stupid narrators are worse than lawyers.”
“Quite.”
They sighed. The golden spoon lay forgotten on the floor between them as they sat in silence, waiting for whatever fate the obsessed Victorian Era reject held for them.
---Later That Night---
Her smile was as cold as the wind. This time, the marshmallow had nothing to do with it. Each action she performed was done with her own consciousness. And if they confronted her, she’d just tell them it was insanity. It was perfect. No one would expect. She moved with complete silence, like the wolf cornering on her prey. In her hand was a long, curved knife. It glinted in the fading light, like a beacon.
A beacon of death, perhaps.
She chose her victim carefully. No one would suspect her, no one would know. After all, they saw how she was before. They would think it wouldn’t happen again. Well, she was to prove them wrong. But they would realize it on their deathbeds. They would see her laughing face as they died. And then they would know. They would realize how foolish they were. They would realize that they didn’t have the chance. For she was the predator and they were but prey.
She approached the Gaian silently, like a snake. Her feet moved through the grass with a soft, muted hiss that seemed akin to her breath as it slowly exited from teeth clenched in a wicked grin.
Raising the knife, she crooned, “Surprise,” and-
BLAM
It had come from seemingly nowhere, but with a single shot, all her plans unraveled like thread from a spool, fraying away into nothing but everlasting darkness.
Abandon all hope ye who enter here. For Insomnesiac, the Crazed Killer, was now dead.
weddingsakura has been jailed and Insomnesiac, the Crazed Killer, has been shot.
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Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2006 9:00 pm
While there were three in the jail cell now, Nantooski, Padme, and Sakura didn’t seem to make much of a crowd as they huddled together, staring out at the new warden.
“After much deliberation, I have decided that 42 does not answer my question,” he shot a sharp glance at Padme. “A bird would find no motivation in a number to sing while being caged.”
“But it answers everything!” Padme whined.
“Then explain it to me.”
“It’s true because Douglas Adams said so!”
“That is not a valid answer.”
“Okay, fine. It’s true because I said so!”
The warden sighed. Then, he opened the jail and motioned to Padme. “Come. I’d like you to meet my animal farm,” he dragged her away.
For a short time, it was silent. Too silent. If a pin dropped, they wouldn’t have only heard it, it would have been the loudest thing in the whole room. But suddenly there was a sharp, but quickly cut off, scream. The two remaining jailbirds winced.
Nan turned to Sakura. “Now that there’s only two of us instead of three, how are we going to pay the small company tax?”
---Later That Night---
A Dragonflys Sin glanced around cautiously. No one. She pulled out a notebook and put it on the table before her. Opening it, she flipped to an empty page.
It was her log. Diary, more like. She began to write.
A raven fluttered through her open window and landed beside her. She jerked up and stared at it. It stared back. She poked at it, but it did not move.
“Shoo!” she bopped it over the head with her diary.
It blinked indignantly at her but did nothing.
“What, are you just going to sit there evermore?” she snapped at it.
BLAM
Seeing that she had a bullet hole in her head, apparently it was she who would sit there evermore. For her life, quoth the raven, was nevermore.
Apparently, some ravens also have fleas with deadly diseases. Loode quickly found this out, but it was also fatal knowledge.
Nantooski has been voted out and A Dragonflys Sin has been shot.
Loode has been removed for inactivity.
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Posted: Tue Aug 01, 2006 9:03 pm
The Victorian-esque warden paced back and forth, toying with his pipe in one hand. The three jailbirds sat before his desk in his office, each staring as the warden’s feet rhythmically clunked on the floor.
“One of you must know the answer,” the warden mused. “One of you must understand why the caged bird sings,” he turned to face them; his eyes seemed to bore into them like an insurance salesmen. “You must tell me. Now.”
“Why is it so important?” KingShoy tried and failed miserably not to squeak.
“Only the caged one would know,” the warden stared hard at Shoy until he shrank back into his chair.
Sakura blinked. Then, she laughed. “Why, if that’s all it is, why didn’t you just say so? I mean, we’re all caged! We’re in jail!”
The warden shook his head. “Your physical capacities are held back, for you may not go to and fro wherever you please. But you are not the caged one, for your emotions are still free. You are free to feel joy, anger, hatred, sadness, and fear. You can act on your feelings without snapping. At least,” he raised an eyebrow, “to a certain degree. Hence, unless you can answer my question, you are not the caged one, for you do not understand the answer.”
“And so you know the answer?” Nan questioned.
“That is for me to know and for you to wonder,” he snapped. “Now. Answer my question. Do you know why the caged bird sings? Any of you?”
The jailbirds were silent. They looked at each other, as if each one of them bid the others to speak. But in the end, no one spoke. They were silent, as if the moment had stolen their voices away.
The warden sighed. “Very well. You will go back to jail until you have an answer. If any of you can answer my question, you will go free. Remember that.”
It was a long, silent, but ponderous night in the jail cell that evening.
---Later That Night---
Ho` Shiz sat at his computer that night. His wasn’t so ponderous. For some time, he played CounterStrike, but eventually, striking monsters with kitchen counters got boring. So, instead, he went to check his e-mail.
The computer prompted him with a loud, cheery “You Got Flan!”
Shiz blinked. “What the Lanzer is wrong with you?” he shouted. “A grammar error and a dessert? That’s it! I’ve had it! I’m not going to use AOHell anymore! I’m switching to real internet!”
He swiveled his chair around and, from the sight before him, nearly fell off it.
Sitting on his table was a flan. It was still steaming.
Cautiously, he approached it. He poked it. It acted like a flan: in otherwords, it did nothing except look delicious. It seemed that if it had a mouth, it would be calling to him. It had his name on it. Literally, apparently, for on the surface his name was written delicately in what looked like whipped cream.
Deciding not to look a gift flan in the crust, he went to get some utensils to consume it. He walked past his kitchen window and-
BLAM
The window shattered and the pieces clattered to the ground. Shiz whacked himself against his kitchen counter as he fell with a bullet in his head: Counter Strike 2.
The flan was merely bait to lure him into the sniper’s range.
KingShoy has been jailed and Ho` Shiz has been shot.
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Posted: Thu Aug 03, 2006 3:33 pm
The jailbirds were taken to the warden’s office, again. This time, their number was four. HirunHikari had joined them. The warden’s sharp eyes flicked from one to the other.
“Now,” he intoned. “The answer. Why does the caged bird sing?”
Sakura glanced nervously around the room, then said in a quiet murmur, “The caged bird sings with fearful trill of the things unknown but longed for still, and its tune is heard on the distant hill, for the caged bird sings of freedom.”
The warden stared at her for a long moment. For once, he stopped fidgeting with his pipe.
Then, he coughed and finally replied. “Poetic, but no. A caged bird wouldn’t possibly sing for that.”
Sakura’s mouth dropped. “But…!”
Hirun nodded. “But of course! The caged bird sings because the early bird got the worm first, so now he’s jealous because he didn’t get it.”
The warden turned to Hirun. “Correct you are.”
Sakura’s mouth snapped shut. “What…?!”
“But because you know the answer to my question I propose that you, HirunHikari, are the sniper! For only a killer would know the answer to the question! Only the one whose feelings are caged, unable to express them without snapping and lapsing into murder and deceit would know the answer. Since you have provided the correct answer, you must be the sniper-”
BLAM
The new warden staggered and fell against his desk, clasping a bullet wound in his chest. He gasped. “You…!”
The jailbirds turned around to see the old warden holding a smoking rifle that looked like it had come from a Clint Eastwood movie.
“But you’re dead!” the Victorian-esque warden gasped.
“Am I not?” the old one said coldly. “It was just a flesh wound!”
“But this goes against all logic!”
“Who said this game was logical? But it is a game, and I will put an end to it,” he turned to the jailbirds. “You all are free to go. I have work to do.”
The jailbirds quickly scurried out of the jail cell. As they fled, they heard one last gunshot, and then there was silence. Once they stood outside, the three others stared at Hirun. He glanced to each of them and suddenly did a fairly good impression of the ninja emote. He grinned and pulled a sniper’s rifle from his clothes and turned to run.
“I’ll be back!” he yelled at them as he fled. “Just you wait-”
He stepped on a patch of ground that apparently was merely a cover for a very deep pit. He screamed for what seemed to be a long time, but it gradually grew fainter until it abruptly ended. On the side of the pit, close to the surface, the letters “CK” were carved into the side. It was an older pit, made before the Crazed Killer’s untimely demise. Thus, the killed killer killed one last time.
The Irony Gods were pleased.
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