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grimprime.
I don't really like to repeat myself, but I think my perception filter generator (with added morphic resonance modifiers) is too good an idea not to do to death repeatedly. So, once I've rescued it from the trodden-mud of some Australian rugby pitch, I shall rinse it off, modify its parameters, sneak up behind you in a bus queue and stick it onto the back of your jacket.
You will then immediately be mistaken for... one of those little toys that turn into other little toys. I will leave you in the waiting room of the nearest doctor's surgery filled with small child patients, where you will be pawed and dribbled on by a number of sickly snotnosed toddlers. Eventually, though, the coup de grace will arrive when a slightly older child will find you; one who understands how to change your assumed form from one thing to another. Unfortunately, your human body won't be able to survive having its legs wrenched round behind while its head is folded into its chest.
I'm not well enough up on the lore of transformy things to decide which would be worse; to have you assume the form of a teribly expensive limited-edition collector's item one that becomes worthless when ripped out of its packaging and snotted-on, or a cheap knock-off version of the ones you like, with a deliberately-misspelled name and your decals on crooked. I rather fancy the latter, myself.
It was either that or Reavers, anyhow. But this makes for a longer entry.
grimprime. I don't really like to repeat myself, but I think my perception filter generator (with added morphic resonance modifiers) is too good an idea not to do to death repeatedly. So, once I've rescued it from the trodden-mud of some Australian rugby pitch, I shall rinse it off, modify its parameters, sneak up behind you in a bus queue and stick it onto the back of your jacket.
You will then immediately be mistaken for... one of those little toys that turn into other little toys. I will leave you in the waiting room of the nearest doctor's surgery filled with small child patients, where you will be pawed and dribbled on by a number of sickly snotnosed toddlers. Eventually, though, the coup de grace will arrive when a slightly older child will find you; one who understands how to change your assumed form from one thing to another. Unfortunately, your human body won't be able to survive having its legs wrenched round behind while its head is folded into its chest.
I'm not well enough up on the lore of transformy things to decide which would be worse; to have you assume the form of a teribly expensive limited-edition collector's item one that becomes worthless when ripped out of its packaging and snotted-on, or a cheap knock-off version of the ones you like, with a deliberately-misspelled name and your decals on crooked. I rather fancy the latter, myself.
It was either that or Reavers, anyhow. But this makes for a longer entry.
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