MSTied--Arrival
Wolff Iguana Dobson
[opening credits]
[Joel and the 'bots are hanging around. Crow has a Dungeon Masters' screen up
and is holding a cup of dice. Tom is dressed in natty fur bikini shorts, while
Joel is wearing his "Manos: Feet of Fate" robe.]
CROW: OK, guys, you meet a 12th level colossal beast.
JOEL: I swing my club.
CROW: [rolls dice] No luck. You miss.
JOEL: Oh, hi, folks, welcome to the Satellite of Love. We're playing Dungeons
and Dragons to pass the time. [turns back to game]
TOM: I cast "Cause Amazingly Painful Ankle Injury" on him.
CROW: [rolls dice] No luck. You miss.
JOEL: I swing my club again.
CROW: [rolls dice] No luck. You miss.
TOM: I'm going to use my Wand of Miming on him.
CROW: [rolls dice] No luck. You miss. The miming ray bounces and hits you.
You can only mime now.
TOM: Why, this---
CROW: Sorry. You can only mime.
TOM: [nearly exploding with rage] But my *arms* don't even work!
CROW: I'm not watching! I'm not watching!
TOM: You'll watch!
CROW: Go put some face paint on.
[Mads' light flashes]
JOEL: Just a second, kids. Frodo and Sauron are calling.
[Deep 13]
Dr F: Well, Joel, this is such a short piece of fanfiction it really isn't
worth your trouble.
FRANK: Except that we like to cause PAIN! Heh heh.
Dr F: That's the theme of our invention this week. It's a list of magic items
to give to your players that will cause them no end of annoyance. Tell
him, Frank.
FRANK: For instance, we have the "Otto's Irresistible Laxative" pill, or the
"Wand of Doing Nothing." Stupid delvers can wave it around for hours
and nothing will happen, but the DM keeps saying, "Strange. Nothing
happens here."
Dr F: 400 pages of this great stuff! What's your meaningless little offering,
you wackos?
[SOL]
JOEL: Our invention is a gaming aid as well! It's a combination DM screen and
windscreen! [pulls up a piece of glass shaped like a car windshield.]
All of the relevant AD&D(tm) tables and charts are available without
letting your eyes leave the road!
TOM: It's so you and four of your geekiest friends can go cruising around
playing all the D&D you want in your car.
CROW: We've released it for most domestic models, but we're working on
imports.
TOM: Great for all your gaming needs!
[Deep 13]
Dr F: Never mind that. This week's post-of-pain is from BINGHAM_CHARLES_D,
a hacker on alt.pub.dragons-inn, an already fatuous newsgroup, but
this post is particularly insipid. It's called "Arrival."
FRANK: And what makes it so bad is that a casual user might actually read it
for a few lines before noticing how terrible it is.
Dr F: Get ready for some DEEP HURTING! Send it to them, Frank.
[Frank pushes the button.]
[SOL]
JOEL: Ahh! We got USENET sign!
[chaos ensues]
[door sequence]
[shadowrama]
CROW: Our usual seats in the front, usher.
[all sit down]
> Path: princeton!udel!news.intercon.com!howland.reston.ans.net!agate!dog.ee.lbl.gov!hellgate.utah.edu!fcom.cc.utah.edu!u.cc.utah.edu!cwis.isu.edu!cwis.isu.edu!not-for-mail
TOM: Ahh, that crazy not-for-mail-guy.
JOEL: I love his work. Don't you?
CROW: Charmed.
> From: bing...@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D)
TOM: Perhaps "bing cherries?"
CROW: No, it would have to be "big charries."
JOEL: I have a feeling that that kind of misspelling would be out of place
here.
> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
> Subject: Arrival
TOM: [in "Airplane!" announcer's voice] "Trans America flight 209 now
arriving gate 23. . .24. . . 25. . ."
> Date: 22 Feb 1994 18:12:08 -0700
> Organization: Idaho State University, Pocatello
> Lines: 66
CROW: 600 more and there would be a devil around.
> Message-ID: <2keah8$2...@cwis.isu.edu>
>
> As the sun set, the cool sea breeze became more intense.
JOEL: Not a bad start, really.
CROW: Could be good; I like salty sea yarns.
TOM: Why did the Mads send us this?
> After
> quickly securing any goods
CROW: And a few bads. . .
> that would be threatened by the approaching
> storm, dockworkers and sailors made thier way to thier way to thier
> favorite taverns.
ALL: Oh no!
TOM: Great sadness. . .
CROW: . . . .Doom. . . .
JOEL: . . . and misery. *This* is why the Mads sent it.
CROW: The sailors are making their way to their way.
JOEL: Hey, no going and fixing the spelling. You have to appreciate it
the way it is, just like James Joyce.
> Within an hour, darkness had settled on the city and
> the howling winds were trumpeting
TOM: Much like Dizzy himself. . .
CROW: How do "howling winds" trumpet?
JOEL: They kind of howl into the mouthpiece, and it sort of sounds like
they're really playing.
TOM: And I always thought it was just clever sound editing.
> the arrival of the storm. As the
> clouds enveloped the slivered moon, large drops of rain began to fall.
TOM: Maybe the howling winds are playing "Raindrops keep falling on my head"
on their trumpets?
> Leaning heavily on a rough hewn staff,
CROW: A minor grammatical point, but there should be a hyphen there.
TOM: Shh! You're ruining the post!
> a tall figure staggered
> down the street.
JOEL: It's "Jaws" from James Bond movies!
TOM: What street are we on? A city? A SETTING?
JOEL: It's OK, Tom. He'll clue us in.
> In the light of the few struggling tavern lamps
> a glint of steel
CROW: The lamps are having a bad time of it, it seems.
TOM: And the commas are being left out, too.
JOEL: Tom, that's really an optional grammar thing.
TOM: It would make it easier to read.
JOEL: It would be easier to hit "j" now and junk this post.
> could be seen through the man's cloak. Reaching an intersection
> with an alley, he paused and leaned against a nearby wall.
TOM: So we're on a street with taverns, struggling lanterns, and alleys.
CROW: Listen, we're at the intersection of Street Street and Alley Avenue.
> His dark
> cloak was badly torn and the armor that could be seen through the tears
> was in equally bad shape.
CROW: The armor _could_ be seen, but the camera angle is wrong.
TOM: His cloak would be whole, but this is a low-budget post.
> As a violent cough shook his body,
CROW: The Cough has him in a strangle hold! And the REF DOESN'T SEE IT!
JOEL: [makes WWF crowd noises]
> opened to reveal even more of the damaged armor. The fine breastplate is
> now dented and the once silver eagle, symbol of House Aelin, tarnished
> from battle.
TOM: You know, appositives like "symbol of the House of Vowels" just doesn't
substitute for a good, old-fashioned verb.
JOEL: I *told* you to lay off the minor grammar points!
> To the side of this, where the chain of the armor meets the
> plate, is a long gash, revealing the damaged flesh it once protected.
TOM: Hey, we switched tenses!
JOEL: It's the present tense, now. See, it's a description.
TOM: Stop defending this drek!
> The sharp, torn links
TOM: . . .of fresh sausage. . .
> have aggravated the wound to an even worse
> condition, a red tint on the metal, bearing witness to it's activities.
TOM: So aside from the common misuse of an apostrophe, WHERE'S THE VERB!?!?!?
CROW: The wound is a red tint on the armor?
ALL: Wahhh!
> A peal of thunder overhead, shook the man back into activity.
JOEL: Tom, don't start. Yes, the comma was a mistake.
CROW: Maybe the thunder overhead is trumpeting.
JOEL: I think it's on sax. The wind is on trumpet.
TOM: And the lightning is on base?
> Stepping cautiously out of the poorly lit street and into the alley, he
> staggers on,
CROW: Staggers on _what_?
JOEL: On down the street? On the deck of the ship? On-ward?
TOM: On Ward who?
JOEL: Ward Black, from your seventh grad social studies class.
CROW: Or maybe Montgomery Ward?
> following forgotten instructions.
JOEL: I'm beginning to lose track here.
TOM: How can he be following forgotten instructions? He would have forgotten
them!
CROW: Instinct. He's working on instinct.
> The crash of pottery
> startles him back from his near dead state.
JOEL: . . .much like the audience's near dead state.
> Before he can act, however,
> he is overtaken by the welcome darkness of unconsciousness.
CROW: Whew! Good thing he fainted! We might have had some action there!
TOM: I think *I'm* going to faint.
JOEL: With boredom.
> "Should we take his sword?" a voice whispers, just barely
> audible above the steady rain. "It must surely be worth several silvers."
TOM: Silverfishes?
JOEL: Silver dollars?
CROW: Quicksilvers?
JOEL: Hi-ho, Silver!
> A loud slap of flesh meeting flesh is all he hears before falling
> into unconsciousness again.
TOM: HEY! CHARLES! Would you like to PRECEDE your pronouns!?!?
JOEL: He fainted again, but he never woke up! And what was that slap?
CROW: "Flesh meeting flesh."
TOM: "Hi, this is my brother Flesh, and my other brother Flesh."
CROW: [brightly] They just met!
> "Wet, cold, where am I? Rain, it was raining and there were
> voices. I've got to get up, I have to be somewhere, but I can't remember
> where. A dragon and an inn, what do they have to do with each other."
TOM: And question marks. And semicolons.
CROW: What happened to the thieves?
TOM: Why are you looking for continuity? It stepped out for a drink.
> With another coughing fit and an agonized groan the man slowly
> rolled into a puddle,
CROW: Real improvement in condition there.
> sending chills through his slowly warming body. It
> was still dark out,
TOM: *WHAT* WAS STILL DARK OUT?
CROW: This guy?
TOM: The night?
JOEL: The author's brain?
> but overhead the clouds had broken
CROW: . . .and that's why they were glad they had Triple-A. . .
> and the stars were
> fading in the early pre-dawn light.
TOM: So this story started last dusk, and we've gotten as far as this
guy falling into a puddle, and that took 12 hours of darkness.
CROW: Speedy, much like a Lippert film.
JOEL: Or a three-toed sloth. At least the author used a hyphen.
That's a first.
> The wind had died
TOM: [sings]. . .of a broken heart. . .
> to a slight breeze
> and the sounds of life could be heard in the waking city.
CROW: But not in the audience, who, by total boredom, is ossified.
JOEL: [turning to audience] You can all look it up when you go home.
> Finding his
> staff lying nearby,
TOM: Lying through its teeth, you mean.
> he slowly pulled himself to a standing postion.
> Ignoring the intense pain in his side, he took account of his
> possessions.
JOEL: "My intestines are hanging out my abdomen, but heck, that can wait.
I've got make sure I still have my wallet."
> His sword was missing, as well as the small pouch that
> contained some of his wealth. With a painful shrug, he began to make his
> way, once again, down the alley.
JOEL: Umm, when was he said to be going down the alley? He collapsed still on
Street Street.
> He reached the street as the sun rose over the horizon,
JOEL: There's such a good horizon in an alley. Doh.
> his
> normally quick stride, slowed by his injury.
TOM: The, normally, quick, phrase, slowed, by, a, comma.
> On the opposite side of the
> alley entrance was an inn. The sign over the doorway creaked as it was
> rocked in the slight breeze.
JOEL: The sign rocks with the Dead in the off-season.
> As he slowly made his way towards it, he
> could see that it was indeed the Dragons Inn.
CROW: Hey! Everybody! We *got* somewhere! And he didn't faint!
ALL: [run around, celebrating. Joel produces a lady's shoe and a bottle
of cheap champagne and begins drinking out of the shoe.]
> Leaning heavily on the sturdy wood door, using his weight to
> replace his fading strength,
CROW: Much like James Doohan used weight to replace a fading acting career...
> he was able to push it open. Light music
> flowed over him,
JOEL: Ah! Ah! Get it off me! It's light music, all over me!
CROW: It's "101 Strings Does famous Elvis Hits!"
JOEL: Noooooooooooooo! [falls down]
> and he felt suddenly at ease.
CROW: [Sergeant voice] At EASE, soldier boy!
> Still leaning on his
> staff, he staggered in. The common room was filled with the haze of
> smoke and there were many dark corners,
CROW: In fact, the room wasn't lit, and it was a geodesic dome, meaning
that there were literally *hundreds* of dark corners.
> defying the construction of the
> building.
[All in jeering kids voices]
JOEL: "Nyah, nyah!"
TOM: "We're dark corners! You can't get us!"
CROW: "Take that, you mean ol' construction!"
> Few of the patrons even noticed his entrance, and continued on
> with thier discussions and morning meals.
TOM: There's that misspelling again.
CROW: Don't you mean "thier's" that misspelling again? [Tom menaces Crow, but
Joel holds him back.] [Crow giggles mirthfully.]
> Of those that notice, most
> return to thier activities, leaving but a handful watching the newcomers
> arrival.
TOM: A handful of activities watching the newcomers? What newcomers?
CROW: There's only one.
JOEL: And no apostrophes.
> Coughing loudly, not to get attention, but out of necessity, he
> says, "I am Aleirin," He begins to fall forward, but catches himself
> with his staff.
TOM: It's odd how that spoken quote just ends with a comma,
JOEL: It does seem like he's trying to make up for his misuses of them,
CROW: But putting them at the ends of sentences seems strange,
> "Keeper of Ivringorn
TOM: . . .The Wonder Puppy!
> and vassal of House Aelin."
CROW: Hi! I'd like to buy a vowel, Vanna!
TOM: Go to the house of Aelin, but I think they're sold out of o's and u's.
> Overcome by coughing, he drops the staff and falls forward. "I need help."
TOM: Can we assume it's the staff speaking here?
CROW: No, I think it's the storyline.
JOEL: Or the audience. They all need help.
> He crumples to the floor, with only a gasp and blood slowly
> starts to flow from the newly aggravated wound at his side.
>
JOEL: I'm a wound, and I'm just *so* pissed off.
>
> --
> The One Who Watches
TOM: Keep watching, Chaz. You need to study up on grammar first.
> | "This is a good place,
> bing...@cwis.isu.edu | There is a lot of liquor here."
> | Hemingway
JOEL: He's quoting Hemingway. I hate Hemingway.
TOM: Let's get out of here.
CROW: But I *liked* the Old Man And The Sea! "Mucho agua!"
[Joel grabs Crow's head and they exit the theatre]
[door sequence]
[SOL]
CROW: I don't get it. It was a 66 line post that consisted entirely of
one badly-written story that was proofread by a lemur!
TOM: I think calling it a story dignified it too much. It was more of a
treatise on the difficulties of being tall.
JOEL: I think it was an exploration of the human condition, even if it had
some conceptual trouble.
TOM: I think his grammar was inexcusable, even if this so-called "story"
didn't have a plot. Or characters. Or even a setting, really.
CROW: I think it sucked.
TOM: Well, now that you put it that way, I agree.
JOEL: Me too. Let's see what the Wonder Twins think. [hits Mads' button.]
[Deep 13]
Dr F: You know, I think I might agree with them. I think that post was
terrible.
FRANK: Yeah. Maybe we ought to do something nice for them.
Dr F: Like send them flowers. . .
FRANK: . . .or candy. . .
Dr F: . . .or just get them a nice Hallmark card.
[They turn to the camera, grinning evilly]
BOTH: *NOT!!!!!!*
Dr F: Hit the button, Frank.
\ | /
\|/
o
/|\
/ | \
[roll credits]
This spoof contains characters created by Best Brains and whose lives and
souls belong to HBO and Comedy Central. This is in no way meant to bother
them. The spoof's material was written entirely by Wolff Dobson, and you're
welcome to reproduce it as much as you'd like, only if you're planning to
profit from it, call CC first and me second.
The post heckled was written by Charles Bingham, and though his post was pretty
weak, I mean him no harm as a person and am merely attempting to get a laugh
out of it.
---
Wolff Dobson
djdo...@phoenix.princeton.edu
wo...@djdobson.student.princeton.edu
> After quickly securing any goods that would be threatened by the approaching
> storm, dockworkers and sailors made thier way to thier way to thier
> favorite taverns.