The Weaving of the Thread
A Story By
Sehnsucht
Featuring
The Social Thread Regulars (and a few bandwagoners)
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NOTE:
If you've been tagged in this post, then it means you either appear, or are referenced, in the story. Since this is a multi-part narrative, you may not necessarily appear in this particular post; though if you
have been tagged, you most definitely will appear in later parts, so don't fret my child.
You can see who does and doesn't appear in a particular Act by checking the bottom of the post (though that constitutes spoilers, so take that into account).
Also, no one is safe from my satirical quill. I'm lampooning pretty much everyone in one way or another. Clench your butts in preparation accordingly.
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Foreword by PsychoIncarnate
This story has no meaning.
You read word after word, and like the universe we’re stuck in, the story progresses inexorably toward the end, and you along with it, until you reach the end and are left to wonder what to do with yourself. You could maybe make a sandwich or go for a jog or something, but those experiences would soon end, and you’d be forced to either contrive something else to do, or wallow in the currents of implacable entropy.
The end is all there is, all that this amounts to. This story is a narrative heat death, where all ideas decay like particles, and all thematic light is extinguished. The memory of this story will die with you when you die also, as will your family, your friends, this planet, our sun, and everything else, until there is no thing and no one to witness the nowhere to come.
There is a silver lining, though. I found out that you can get pose-able action figures of the characters in this story on Kijiji, the premier website for the buying of stuff. Most things will end, but collector’s items—those are forever.
Enjoy the story. Or not. What do I care.
(Please don’t go...)
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ACT I
THIS CAN'T POSSIBLY END WELL
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After performing his evening squats and chanting his sutras—as part of his regimen to somehow turn his hair into a crusty piss-yellow mess, which is a weird fixation for a teenaged boy to have—Vegito set himself before his sleek, ergonomic PLATINUM7 laptop. After logging on, he accessed his email account by typing in a password that could only have been conceived after huffing copiously of paint, glue, and a used Wii Balance Board (though Vegito forgot in what order he had huffed those items, not that he actually did, of course):
CrophMaruMariolu2W0vol41PEeeeeek_
He had to try a few times because typing that is a *****. Once inside, Vegito skimmed through his inbox. Dimensionsword had flooded him with his usual jingoist nonsense, which Vegito made a point to read through out of pity for the boy. He then checked out the latest MisterVideoGaming newsletter, the official name for the unofficial Nintendo fan club (though while Vegito was a proud member, MVG would never be a substitute for the real thing).
There was also a message by TheFirstPoppyBro, but he doesn’t send messages quite as often as the others, so he’s more forgettable than the rest; Vegito glossed over the message without a second thought.
There was one message, however, that caught his eye. Untitled, it stood out like Vegito’s conduct in a forum environment. Intrigued, he opened it.
Tomorrow night @ 7PM
Crazy Al’s Bar
Come alone
—S.
For some time, Vegito stared at the screen. Who was this mysterious S.? Son Goku? He decided that this must be the case, and wondered if perhaps, at last, his rigorous training was being acknowledged. Already, he thought he could feel his hair becoming jaundiced.
That night, beneath his Hatsune Miku bedsheets, Vegito could hardly sleep. And when he did at last slip into unconsciousness, he dreamt that he was a krokodil mule trying to smuggle some across the border for the Seychellian mob under threat of the execution of his wife, and he dreamt this because dreams are symbolic reflections of one's innermost psychology.
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Vegito made his way out to the heart of New Generica, following the directions he had scribbled on the note he now clutched. His winding path led him into increasingly isolated back alleys, which appeared seedier than they actually were through his sheltered eyes. But still, he trudged on. Soon enough, he found the place which he sought—Crazy Al’s Bar, denoted by the cruddy wooden post that hung over the door, swinging creakily in the night wind.
Before the door, Vegito braced himself. After checking his shoes, his hair, and his privilege, he entered.
The descending stairs led him to the small, smoky cellar space that made up the bar. Though not packed, he took note of the inhabitants. The one who he figured was Crazy Al stood behind the counter; the man polished a glass with his kerchief, staring at him with wide and feverish eyes.
"WE GOT A LIVE ONE hello," he greeted from afar.
Off to the side was a titanic man who had clearly set aside time for tea; his sickly disposition suggested he might have a nasty case of the Pranks, however, so Vegito made it a point to steer clear from him.
“YOOOOOO!”
The holler came from the counter. Vegito turned to the two black gentlemen who sat there and approached. “How’s about you come join Keil Kusanagi and your boy Moon Monkey up in this mother?” said the one with the mad photoshop skills.
“No, thanks,” said Vegito. “I’m… here on business.”
“Aight, aight,” Moon acquiesced. “You do you, my man.”
Wave and Moon clinked their shot glasses and down their drinks in unison. Then they resumed their lively discourse, making frequent use of the word that was their privilege alone to use, and for which Vegito secretly envied them.
The boy pushed further through the bar, Crazy Al’s crazed ramblings punctuating the raucous laughter that continued behind him. In the back, he spotted a suited figure who beckoned him over. Vegito went forth gingerly, taking in the eclectic assortment of people seated at the round table. At his arrival, they all turned to look at him.
“Ah, you’ve made it.” The figure with the baritone voice had the head of a Grass-Type Yu-Gi-Oh on a human body, over which was fitted a sharp suit. The contrast was slightly jarring. “Please, have a seat.”
Vegito took to the remaining chair, placing his backpack beside him. “Are you S.?” he asked.
“Yes. My name is Swampasaur. I’m the one who summoned you here. All of you." Vegito was disappointed that S. didn’t turn out to be Son Goku, but held his tongue as Swampasaur began to acquaint Vegito with his present company, going around the table.
First, there was Kermit the Ninja. With a name like that, you would have expected the guy to look like a frog; instead, his form was that of an anthropomorphic blobfish, dressed in dark garb and a headband, with a blade sheathed on his back.
Then came Nielicus. “Hello,” he said, reaching to shake Vegito’s hand. “My defining character trait is that I like Bill Trinen.”
Following him was Mega Bidoof—a Bidoof otherkin who was concealed inside his Bidoof costume. TewnLeenk came next, a fellow in green clothes seated to Vegito’s right. He said he was a Backroomer, which immediately drew Vegito’s ire and jealousy; Tewn leaned over in his chair to flash the Brand of the Grimer found on his left buttcheek, which Vegito thought was so cool.
Lastly, there was CliffJumper, to Vegito’s left. Of them all, Cliff seemed the most well-adjusted individual present, with no absurd qualities or characteristics to speak of.
“Now that everyone is accounted for,” said Swampasaur, “we can begin. I’ve contacted you all to enlist you for a very important—and highly risky—assignment. Tell me… what do you know of
Sehnsucht?”
The others grew still, blanching at the name. Vegito raised an eyebrow. “Sehnsucht?” he asked.
Swampasaur became further solemn. “Outside New Generica, in the deep of the woods, lies a towering spire of stone and obsidian, known by its host as the
Needle. In that sordid tower resides that which goes by the name of
Sehnsucht. Who, or what, or from where; we don’t know these things. We don’t even know if he’s evil, strictly speaking; his motives are shrouded in mystery, his mind alien. What we do know is that he must be stopped, at all costs. Which is where you come in.”
“Us?” asked Bidoof, voice slightly muffled from inside his furry getup.
“Yes. You six will travel to the Needle, get inside, and destroy Sehnsucht and whatever other depraved things dwell there.”
Tewn sighed. “Will that require effort?”
“I don’t get it,” said Vegito. “What’s your place in all this? Why do you want to stop Sehnsucht so bad?”
“I’m a member of a group known as The Light Music Club,” Swamp began. “We’re an order of Order, seeking to maintain balance, equilibrium, and homeostasis in the world. At my side are
RaccoonBL, governess over all that is moe and kawaii, and
MisterVideoGaming, founder of an unofficial Nintendo fan club by day, agent of order also by day, sleeper by night. There are others as well, though our numbers are few. Sehnsucht is the antithesis of that which we seek to accomplish. And already, his activities are threatening to tip the scales arcthunder elwind out of balance for good.”
CliffJumper broke the ensuing silence. “You’re a Moderator, aren’t you?” He crossed his arms, examining Swamp with a keen and skeptical eye. “Why don’t you do it?”
Vegito was stunned. Swampasaur was a Moderator? He must possess great power indeed.
Swamp’s expression darkened, a burning ember in his eye. “I faced Sehnsucht, once. I made it all the way up to the Eye of the Needle with Raccoon and MVG at my side. I thought I could take him, but I didn’t know what I was up against. I couldn’t have. He got hold of me and spanked me sore and silly, crippling my power, and the others had to extract me from the Needle. Now, the Light Music Club is forced to recruit others to champion our cause where we have failed. But I should forewarn you. Many have tried. None so far have succeeded.
“The Original Robot Boy attempted to take on Sehnsucht, but couldn’t get past the dread guardians of the Needle; the Derivative Robot Boys sent afterwards were made of cheaper parts, so they lasted even less long. In another incident, the legendary
Teen Girl Squad had stormed the Needle, and surmounted its defences, facing Sehnsucht in his sanctum. But the fluidity of his form was so subversive of normative and performative boundaries that he remained beyond even their fathoming, and they all dropped like flies from collective brain aneurysms.
“Backgammon, one of the greatest gamers who had ever lived, tried a different approach. He or she challenged Sehnsucht to a game of Parcheesi, seeking to test his wits instead of his might. Sehnsucht won the match fair and square, but in what was both Backgammon’s greatest strength and weakness, the drive to win compelled Backgammon to challenge Sehnsucht again, and amused, Sehnsucht obliged.
"Yahtzee, Sorry!, Monopoly, Hungry Hungry Hippos, Mouse Trap; game after game was played, with Sehnsucht’s dark fellowship serving as spectators. In the end, Backgammon resorted to their namesake; surely, they could not be bested at their own game. But after so many games, Sehnsucht had progressively wormed his way into Backgammon’s mind.”
“What happened?” asked Nielicus.
“Sehnsucht had gotten so far inside Backgammon’s head,” Swamp said, “that he convinced Backgammon that Solitaire was the greatest game of all, and Backgammon thus played the game again and again until he or she died of dehydration.”
A collective shudder ran through the group.
"These are only a few tales of those who have fallen before him," concluded Swamp.
“This Sehnsucht sounds like srs bsns,” said Mega Bidoof.
"Hold on a second," raised Cliff. "How do you even know all this, if no one ever survives these encounters?"
"Sehnsucht has a blog where he details the fates of interlopers who transgress the Needle," said Swamp. "He also does metal album reviews."
“So it’s up to us, then?” said Tewn. “If everyone who goes against Sehnsucht fails, then why should we go? Marching to our own deaths sounds like such a drag.”
“Yeah,” said Vegito. “Why us?”
“With all the top-tier champions dying off,” explained Swamp, “we’re being forced to start scraping from the bottom of the barrel. You six are the only ones left standing between Sehnsucht and something probably sinister.”
“What about compensation?” asked Kermit, blobfish lips flapping like a loose sphincter as he spoke. “We’re not being voluntold to do this, are we?”
“Of course not,” said Swamp, clasping his hands on the table. “When Sehnsucht has been destroyed or defeated, those who remain will be granted five thousand Likes.”
The group exchanged glances; Kermit tried to emit an impressed whistle, but he was a talking blobfish, so it ended up sounding like a wet fart. As for Vegito, he was astonished by the size of the reward. With five thousand Likes, he could obtain a month’s worth of straight self-gratification.
“Let’s be clear about this,” said Swamp. “Some of you may not survive. None of you might. Sehnsucht is just the worst. He’s fake and gay, and he’s a pompous, self-aggrandizing grundle, always at the center of his own story. It won’t be easy to overcome him. But each of you were chosen for the qualities and skills that you possess. Together, you’ll find a way. I believe in you.”
Nielicus tried in vain to stifle a sob at Swamp’s rallying speech. Bidoof patted him on the shoulder with his paw.
“With all that being said,” finished Swamp, “you still have a choice. Do you accept this mission?”
The silence weighed on them. Vegito felt dizzy from the immensity of what was being asked of him. He was just a kid who liked anime ****. What could the Light Music Club possibly see in him?
“I’ll do it.”
They all turned to Cliff, who bore a resolute expression. And each in turn, they expressed their commitment. Kermit, Nielicus, Mega Bidoof.
“Fine,” said TewnLeenk. “I guess I’ll tag along. I could use the Likes.”
All eyes shifted to Vegito, awaiting his answer. After focusing on the one question he asked himself in times of doubt (WWSGD?), he determined that in this situation, Son Goku would fight for his friends (
).
“I’m in,” he announced at last.
Swampasaur smiled, his leathery aquamarine lips parting in a toothless grin. “Good. Now then, a few pointers. You’ll want to arm yourselves, so you should seek out Cap’nChreest and ToasterBrains; there are powerful things lurking at the Needle, including a renegade Moderator, so you’ll need to prepare accordingly.
"And you might want to visit the Asylum of the Banned. The only person who has faced Sehnsucht and lived to tell about it is being held there. Chucklehead Tom, his name is. He’s been unhinged ever since that day, so it might not amount to much, but you might be able to derive useful information from Tom about Sehnsucht and his goons. That’s as much as I can do for you. From here on out, it’s all in your hands.”
With that, Swampasaur took his leave, offering a curt bow.
“Thank you for letting me use your place, old friend,” he said to Al as he passed by.
Crazy Al stared at him as he did with everyone, muttering nonsense under his breath before exploding. “Uuuuh COME BACK ANYtime oh god.”
The others began to talk among themselves. All save Vegito. He looked down at his fists and clenched them.
Yeah, he thought.
I can do this. Just you watch.
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From the Eye of the Needle, Sehnsucht surveyed his domain.
“SKAAAA! SKAAAA!”
Skaaaa came prancing to his side. He was a human man, but he fancied himself a crow. It was the only reason someone would name themselves Skaaaa. Sehnsucht had been so delighted by this man that he had made out of Skaaaa his very own familiar. Despite not being a bird, Skaaaa hopped about, flapping with futility his human arms.
Yes, Skaaaa, spoke Sehnsucht.
Something is stirring in the web. I think we will be receiving visitors, and sooner rather than later.
“SKAAAA!” exclaimed a gleeful Skaaaa.
Skaaaa continued to squawk about his master. The winds picked up in the valley, rustling the trees and his robes. Sehnsucht breathed in the cool air, and set his eye upon the pale moon.
Very soon indeed.
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END OF ACT I
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Thus ends part one of this daring adventure. Next time, our newfound band of champions make preparations to take on the dastardly Sehnsucht at the dreaded Needle. What dangers await them?
This should give you an idea.
And now, the roster
as leaked by Sal:
[collapse=DRAMATIS PERSONA]
Non-spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO APPEARED OR WERE MENTIONED (IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER]
@
PsychoIncarnate
@
Vegito2727
@
PLATINUM7
@
CrophMaruMariolu2W0vol41PEeeeeek
@
D
dimensionsword64
@
Substitution
@
TheFirstPoppyBro
@
crazyal02
@
TitanTeaTime
@
Kaye Cruiser
@
Moon Monkey
@
Swampasaur
@
Kermit the Ninja
@
Nielicus
@
Mega Bidoof
@
TewnLeenk
@
Jason the Yoshi
(Me, Sehnsucht!)
@
The Light Music Club
@
CatRaccoonBL
@
The Original Robot boy
@
TeenGirlSquad
@
Backgammon
@
Cap'nChreest
@
ToasterBrains
@
Chucklehead Tom
@
skaaaa
TOTAL: 37 users
[/collapse]
Kind of spoilers:
[collapse=THOSE WHO WERE NOT (YET) (IN ALPHABETICAL ORDER)]
@
Aerodrome
@
FalKoopa
@
Frostwraith
@
Hong
@
HunterNinjaReaperPirate98
@
IsmaR
@
KenithTheGatherer
@
Pazzo.
@
MorbidAltruism
@
MSmariosonic
@
Ndayday
@
Pacack
@
Radical Beam
@
Shaya
@
Quilt Reversal
@
Zhadgon
[/collapse]
[/collapse]
If I missed anyone, or neglected to include them in the above list and/or in the story, then deal with it. If I you are on this list, and have reservations, then place your trust in me, and I will set you free.
Act II will come at a later time. I will work on it at my own pace, and release periodic status updates in this thread until it's ready to be posted. I will repeat this process until all Acts have been posted in this thread.
Until then, space cowboys.
--Sehnsucht
