Codex Good Old Games Short Story Competition

This is the (epic) new shit.

Good stuff.

I fail to see how this could go badly

Brace for impact of a flood of multi-headed dick stories HITTING ASS AND LEG OH GOD ITS HEAVAN.

Decline of DarkUnderlord! Back when you where hardcore, you wouldn't have added that.

When I came to the House of the Howling Abyss, it was already dark. They made me eagerly welcome. And I, in spite of the deed, was glad of shelter from that ominous wood. I saw at once that there had been a deed; although a cloak did it may do to conceal it. The mere uneasiness of the welcome made me suspect that cloak.

The Dark Underlord was moody and silent. I had not come to pry into the secrets of Eternity or to investigate His private life, so had little to say, few questions to ask; but to whatever I did say he remained morosely indifferent. It was clear he suspected me of being in search of secrets of his gods, of being boldly inquisitive about his traffic with Time, or else he was darkly absorbed with brooding upon the deed.

I saw soon enough that there was another than me to welcome; I saw it from the hurried way that they glanced from the door to the deed and back. And it was clear that the welcome was a bolted door. Rust, decay, and fungus had been there; it was not a barrier any longer than would keep out even a wolf. And it seemed to be something worse than a wolf that they feared.

A little later on I gathered from what they said that some imperious ghastly thing was looking for the Underlord, that something that had happened had made its arrival certain. The wind soughed, the great tapers flared, their obvious fear and the silence of the Underlord grew more than ever a part of the atmosphere.

Then a few things screamed far off, then a little nearer, coming towards us, laughing hideously. I had not leisure to observe their fright; I thought of the back-door, for the forest was better than this; the Underlord was calm, his prophecy was made, he seemed to have seen his doom.

No new thing could perturb him.

But by rungs of ladders as old as Man, by slippery edges of the dreaded abyss, with ominous dizziness about my heart, a feeling of horror in the soles of my feet, I clambered from tower to tower till I found the door that I sought; it opened on to one of the upper branches of a huge and somber pine, down which I climbed on to the forest. And I was glad to be back in the forest from which I had fled.

And the Dark Underlord in his menaced house--I know not how he fared--whether he gazes forever, disconsolate, at the deed, remembering only in his smitten mind, at which the little boys now leer, that he once knew well those things at which man stands aghast; or whether in the end he crept away, clambering horribly from abyss to abyss, came at last to higher things, and is wise and eternal still. For who knows of madness whether it be divine or of the pit?

is that an entry?

No no, just trying to warm up for my actual entry.

Developing Grimoire: A Day in the Life - By Cleveland Mark Blakemore (IQ 297)

As Cleveland Mark Blakemore neared the 17th straight hour of coding his fingers hastened into a blazing frenzy. Scarcely a minute later they stopped. He had not tired, he had not relented – he had finished. This was Grimoire. His life’s work, his dream. It was perfect, sublime. Not so much evolutionary as revolutionary. It wouldn’t set a new benchmark for RPGs, it would change the way society perceived games. It would usher in a new era of enlightenment - the digital renaissance, the elevation of mankind out of the gutter.

Blakemore was not an emotional man by any means, but the beauty of his own magnum opus brought a smile to his face. Those with keen eyes and a surplus of attention might’ve noticed a single tear roll down his face, but the chances of anybody infiltrating Blakemore’s super-bunker were very close to nil. Perhaps it is true that no man is an island, but if so then Blakemore must’ve been an exceptionally narrow peninsula. People were a distraction, one that his glorified basement provided shelter from.

Blakemore had seen the face of power. Power is passion and apathy intertwined. It is unwavering devotion to a cause, at the expense of all other things. Blakemore had no life and his profit on that was greatness. His loathing of social interaction enabled him to be the best. He could burn brighter than the sun, he could soar higher than an eagle. His general indifference granted him exceptional focus on the scant few things that he cared about. Like nipple piercings, Grimoire and the world record for Cheetos consumption.

Blakemore lived for this moment of triumph. Proving his worth, demonstrating his brilliance. All those who had doubted him would be silenced, all those who mocked him would be ridiculed and at long last he would get the praise he so rightfully deserved. But did the world deserve him? The world had thrown fire and scorn at him, but he had survived. He had endured and drawn strength from enduring. The hardships he faced yesterday were responsible for his glory today. In truth he should thank his enemies, as they forged him into the Übermensch he was. But there was bitterness in Blakemore’s heart. He wanted to strike back at the world for its cruelty and his masterpiece afforded him that opportunity.

Why should he care what fools thought? An artist who burns his work to spite his audience is no less an artist. What if people didn’t understand what made it so special? The world didn’t share Blakemore’s IQ of 297 (verified by three separate online tests), they did not see the truth as he did. A thousand niggling doubts leant weight to Blakemore’s maliciousness and he let out a heavy sigh. He hit Ctrl+A followed by Del. The whole process would start again tomorrow. The cycle would continue, always and forever.

Major incoming lulz detected.

"...and this, good citizens, concludes our daily analysis of the teachings of Volourn. Honoured be his blade. Tomorrow, we’ll study the fine art of never backing one’s claims.”

- Sir, I mean, your Biowareness, can I speak to you for a moment ?
- Sure my son what is it ?
- It’s our last child, Vince, we’re having a hard time with this one.
- Ah, young Vince, how old is he now ?
- Just turned 15 your Biowareness.
- Boys are sometimes restless when so young, what seems to be the problem ?
- Actually, quite the opposite of restlessness, your Certitude, we caught him hacking into the main distraction program.
- Hacking “Alwayssummer Days” ? He must be a moron. Why would he ever do that ?
- Well, to make it turn based.
- Then he is a moron. Period.
- Curse of Troika ! I was afraid you might say that. Is there nothing we can do ?
- That depends. How good is he at r00fling ?
- Not that good, your Condescendancy. His moves are OK, but his timing is way off. He sometimes r00fles at the dinner table. Which is very improper, I know.
- We will not make a diplomat out of this one, that’s for sure. Does he at least spam correctly ?
- No, your Self-righteousness, he is sort of locked in an iron tower. Refusing to communicate in a constructive fashion. He sometimes drops a one liner here and there, but not even close to what a true Volournian would consider fitting.
- Then he is truly lost. Get rid of him.
- You mean, kill our own son ?
- Of course not.
- Then what do you mean ?
- Do your research already. Do I have to explain it everytime ?
- No, your Certitude, you don’t. It’s just that since he can’t be a r00fler or a spammer, and since there are no other employments, we thought maybe the clergy...
- No. Just no.
- So ? To retardo ?
- Yes. And spare me the whinning.
- Well, thanks, I guess, your Biowareness.
- Don’t you forget something citizen ?
- SOZ is shit !
- SOZ is shit, to you too.


- So honey ? How did it go ?
- Not too well, I’m afraid. The kid’s bound to retardo.
- Good riddance I say. Do you know what ? Just ten minutes ago, I was in the midst of an intense Alwayssummer Days’ fight. I had been staring at my character fighting all by himself on the screen for what ? Not even three minutes... when the little brat flat out r00fled at me. We’ll be better off without him.
- Sure Hon’. Whatever you say.

Upstairs, in his room, little Vince is busy scheming. He’ll make good his escape from the unmoderated lands of retardo. And he’ll be back. With a game. A game so slow, he’ll even implement recoil animations, and misses, and different options to choose from. Ha ha ! That’ll show them.

r00fles.

The Attack Of The 15.24 m Multi Headed Dick
As written by someone whose first language is not English
<blockquote>
It came at dusk. You'd think we should have seen it, more than a dozen meters high, trudging through the barren wasteland. But it was fast. A desperate cry from the scouts over the radio, then the sudden alert of the panicking lookouts, and by the time I had rushed out of the command post the monster stood there, its five horrendous, throbbing, hellish appendages erected above an enormous flaccid bag of flesh, trampling over my helpless men, uncaring for the bullets coming from all directions, spraying a white, opaque fluid that dissolved anything it landed on.

I can't remember exactly when I realized that the outpost was lost, it took probably less than a minute. Not enough time to pick up a radio. I fled to the nearest vehicle, and drove like mad after leaving my men behind. I just hoped I could alert the City in time.

The night was pitch black when I ran out of fuel. I hadn't extra cans. I took a rifle and a flashlight from the trunk and started walking. Soon I heard a noise behind me. It was similar to a hand pump, but more intense, ominous, angry and... sticky. I ran, but the noise came closer and closer. I turned back and emptied the clip in the cold night. The noise only kept approaching. I stumbled back, tripped somewhere, fell into an even darker place, and lost consciousness.

I woke up sometime in the morning and found myself in a deep hole. I hurt everywhere and it took two hours before I was able to climb out. I started walking to the City, and arrived to see smoke floating over it. Exhausted, I reached a large breach in the outer barriers. The concrete was molten. The bodies of hundreds lay on the ground, blood stained every surface. To my horror, I saw many torn in half, the lower part of their bodies apparently disintegrated. Survivors were picking up the pieces and recovering the corpses. Nobody cared for me, but at least they weren't fleeing the City: somewhere inside, the beast had been defeated.

I followed the trail of death and destruction until I could find one of my superiors. He told me it had been a disaster. They had to use heavy weapons against the monster, in the middle of civilians. In the end, the population was decimated, one fourth of the City destroyed.

Nobody was interested in my report. They let me eat some food pills, then sent me to help. I was to look for survivors under the rubble, so I reached the carcass of the monster, already rotting and smelling like hell itself, and joined the search.

I found a man under sheets of plywood. The lower half of his body was missing, but he was still breathing somehow. He stared at me with an insane smile. "Oh god", he said as he died, "it's heav...".
</blockquote>

I think fan-fiction of Jimbob's ITZ epic saga should be included in the contest.

I expect great things of this contest. Don't let me down, cunts.

so grimoire and his wife were making some shitty game when his phone rang, his father was on phone and he said "stay away from my daughter you bastard" and then hung up and grimoire said your dad just called on phone and wife said but "my daddy dead" then grimoire sad "then who was phone"

Volournia - the r00floic epic

Uncounted years have passed since the day
Our master Volourn, brave, mighty and gay
Fled the place which knows no glee
That was the Codex of Are-pee-gee.

The high priests claim that the honourblade
Had received a drastic vision and 'farewell' bade
For the phantasm claimed that beyond the heights
Of the mountains of internet and torrents of bytes
Laid a wonderland for him to create
And us, his worshippers, to anticipate.
After showing these riches and beauty forlorn
The shade muttered 'it's time for r00fles, Volourn!'

And r00fles he did.

Following the prophecy's call and instructions
He hadn't thought twice about his actions
After crossing the deadly mountains of gray
He soon found the land in which we live today.

The first settlement and capital was built in a matter of hours
As everyone recognized in him the messiah's powers.
His influence spread quickly across the whole plain
And adopting the title of Pretty Princess, he began his reign.
Upon an oaken throne, bound by the prophecy's bond
In the city of Bioware, capital of Canada the Second.

The year is Anno Volourni 1800 and prosperity is still here.
His grand Advisor, Gaider, holds us all very dear
And told The Princess that seeking an alliance might be splendid
For us, the people, would profit from such a deed.
His eyes turned to the people of Electrarts, a megalopolis
Which has a grim reputation of acting with malice.
Volourn might not see the dark and gritty future ahead
For His wisdom with age has deteriorated.
The master taught us to respect the will of Bioware...
But why does E and A fill me with care?

The slaves that are forced to mine Obsidian are sozzy at best
But what if in our vanity we'll become like them and the rest?
A puppet... nothing more than a doll
That starts dancing when it takes its toll...

A vision is upon me, my senses dull
I see ruin, forgotten is the spawn of Bhaal
False maturity is hailed as 'the new excrement'
And a horrible bard's music empowers the bereavement
No r00fles is sung, men turn to trolls
The darkness dwells in Volourn's halls

I, The Multi Headed Dick by RK47

A feminine voice chattering on her phone. The anticipation growing. I can feel every cell capable of anticipation in my body bursting with excitement. I can feel my eyes homing wildly towards the source of the noise wanting to reconfirm what I heard.

I crept closer; the increasing volume of her voice is like juice oozing from freshly seared tenderloin, overflowing my senses. Finally, I spotted another color within the black of her skirt as I moved directly below her. White.

I opened my mouth to scream in ecstasy but found no voice escape it. It surprised me, but not as much as to what happened next.

I felt the lust, rage mixed together and finally pouring forth into one, desperate spot in my body. I could feel it growing larger, tighter, the pain overwhelming, threatening to tear me apart.

I heard the sickening sound of muscles tearing apart, and to my horror, I wasn’t the only one who did. The woman looked down at me, and shrieked in horror. She saw me!

Don’t run. I desperately tried to tell her. But run she did. And that was it. The pavement surface cracked as a series of tendril-like muscles burst forth from underground. A great feeling of ecstasy and pain overwhelmed me. And then it stopped. Every tendril, with its slightly wet, leathery surface is under my control and what it sees, is fed to my consciousness. I cannot move, yet my victim’s mobility is meaningless if my reach is limitless. Like fingers, I manipulated my multi-headed dick to pounce on her. I laughed maniacally as multi-headed dick soared like dragons through the moonlit sky.

I grabbed both of her legs with one tendril each. My third and fourth tendrils took hold of her arms. The fifth and the sixth made short work of her clothing, and suckle on her exposed teats. Every touch, every suckle is ecstasy making every tendril HARDER and LONGER. She screamed, and I silenced her with the seventh tendril. That’s it, she is helpless. I could feel that I am losing it. Not yet. The eighth tore away the remnants of her panties and penetrated her anally. I giggled as she shook her head. The ninth was oozing liquid from its tip as I coiled around her leg before plunging into her neatly trimmed bush, penetrating her final orifice.

The tenth coiled round and round her body, and grew larger as the ecstasy grew and grew. I couldn’t hold it any longer.

It floated upwards and pointed at her face, twitching wildly, like it was trying to say something to her. Her eyes grew wide. I know exactly what it wanted to say.

Oh god, it’s Heaven!

And say it, it did. It came first, followed with the others simultaneously ejaculating onto every surface of her body. All of them twitching like an age of dragons, each unleashing sweet liquid oblivion and spreading sexual fallout.

Eurogamer's Retrospective on Age of Decadence Online. Post date: August 11, 2012.



As most gamers know, tomorrow marks the 2nd anniversary of Age of Decadence Online, as well as the Wii release date. It is perhaps best known as "the game that dethroned World of Wacraft", and though WoW fanboys may claim they still have the advantage in subscription numbers (both games are estimated at somewhere around 10 million subscribers), even they cannot deny the success of this phenomenon. Though tomorrow officially marks the beginning of our AODO Extravaganza, with everything from developer interviews to tips from so-called "professional players", today we want to spend a few minutes reflecting on AODO's humble beginnings as a single player turn-based RPG into the worldwide phenomena we know and love today.



In previous interviews, lead designer Vince has gone into detail regarding this significant change of direction for the game. "It was ironically the RPG Codex that guided us to this point." The RPG Codex, formerly a bastion of old-school gamers known for their abrasive attitudes towards developers, was shut down in 2011 by the Polish government due to several lawsuits revolving around the Codex's coverage of the latest CDP release, The Director's Perfected Cut of The Witcher: Limited Collector's Ultimate Edition.

"At one point in mid-2009, there was a thread where AoD's graphics were being critized by the Codex. It really hit home for us, because we were already starting to question if AoD could sell as a single player game to anyone but a few hundred people. By this time, we had already secretly begun the conversion of AoD into an ARPG, but they showed us it wouldn't be enough to win over the mainstream. We needed something more. And we thought - in what genre can we get away with sub-par graphics? And so, on that day, AODO was born."



"Our biggest concern was working around the hard-coded elements in our engine. This is how our most innovative, and universally praised, system - the AAP, or Awesome Action Points - was born. Rather than determining how much you could do in a single turn, the AAP system would serve the same purpose the XP system in other games did. Essentially, the more Awesome your Action is, the more AAP received and the faster your character develops."



It has been said, by both detractors and fans, that AODO "out Blizzard-ed Blizzard" - not only was the game even more casual friendly than WoW, but it was the first true MMOARPG, becoming the "Diablo Online" that people had long-expected Blizzard to release. This impression led Iron Tower studios to jokingly add a raid boss by the name of "Big D" into the game - which was followed quickly be a lawsuit from Blizzard. In the end, Iron Tower was protected by parody laws.



The future looks bright for ITS. Since release, they've gone from around 5 employees to around 500. Their next planned release is Zombie RPG Online from Double Bear Productions.

Fortunately for them, they have nothing to do with this. They give the games, it's up to sites to decide how to distribute them.

stories aren't super gritty and mature enough

I agree. We desperately need a dark, gritty, and mature Volourn story.