Well, I got bored, so I just wrote a short story taking place in FKL. The main character is Joe Shmoe, who winds up being sent there. Don't expect many cameos, as people are only vaguely refrenced. This is due to the fact I don't know how everyon personifies themselves, so I only stuck to vague descriptions with no names (that ways if a description is wrong it can't be associated to a person.) The only exception to this is my guy since I know me. His purpose is mainly just to explain some things on how FKL works and show his tendency for enjoying the sight of carnage.
Like FKL, nothing in this was planned, so it might seem to shift a bit drastically every now and then. The only editing was a minor spell check.
WARNING: minor gorey details near end
"Welcome to FKL"
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, existed the Land of Spam. Each day the spam farmers would rise and shrug off their sanity and step into the cess pool of the local spam swamp. There they would cultivate their spam and nurture it into references and jpeg fruit. In the afternoon they would give praise to the almighty Mods with gifts of awesome, praise,.and Internet fads. In between these times the residents would join or fight amongst one another over their “way of the spam.” For there were many kinds of spam, and differences in which type of spam should be grown. This is a story of such a land, and various inhabitants within it and those that are unfortunate enough to cross through it.
One day a man, your everyday man, Joe Shmoe, was suddenly lifted by the power of the divine mighty Mods and deposited into the Land of Spam as if he were filth. Upon arriving he looked around the swamp land, confused and disoriented. The air was heavy and sticky with the smell of rotten meat, and upon looking down Joe realized he was up to his ankles in murky green water. Dotted among the water were lumps of pink meat. Some were rotten, others seemed to be copies of others, and some had hair which defied the laws of gravity,
Cursing the almighty Mods (the fool,) Joe trudged on through the swamps. Before long he stumbled upon a path, and began walking in the direction of what appeared to be a setting sun. It gave off blue light and seemed to have large sun spots giving the ball of blue fire the appearance of a crazy head. Squinting his eyes against the harsh light, Joe pushed onward.
A half hour passed as Joe walked the path. During that time voices began to speak to him, taunting him, teasing him.
“Just a little further now, you're almost here.”
“Come, come, just a little farther now,”
“Follow the spam bricked road!”
And low and behold, a road of shaped and dried spam lay before Joe. Seeing this Joe realized civilization must be nearby, and he began to run. The path began to veer uphill, at first it was a shallow climb but it began to steepen. It seemed to go on forever, but Joe kept going. Finally, Joe reached the top and stared down, amazed at the land before him.
Joe was looking down into a large deep crater, and in it was set a large and constantly decaying city. At the center was the greatest pile of rubbish Joe had ever seem. A great pillar of degraded filth, no longer discernible in substance.
For some reason unbeknownst to Joe, a binocular station was set up next to him, and what luck, it didn't need quarters. Looking through the binoculars he surveyed the city that look as if it were shit of every slum and run down area known to mankind. He started first by looking near the pillar in the center of the city. Around it were shacks of plywood and tin nailed together. Many appeared rotten, decayed and overrun with fungus.
Further from the center were bunkers made of concrete, and what looked to be storage warehouses, and occasionally a few battlefields. A few of them had their doors open, and Joe could make out vague shapes and colors. In one there appeared to be a large mounds of blue material stockpiled, denim possibly. Others had red bottles stacked around the sides. On the opposite side of the center lay large tanks of gasoline, napalm, and other flammable substances among the ware houses. Some smoke still arose from this area, as if something were still burning.
Continuing further out into the circle the building began to take on a slightly more urban look. Red flags seemed to dot this particular circle, and some large government-esque building seem to tower over other buildings in various areas. Some battle arenas were apparent, as well as a few closed and boarded shops and bars. This area was mostly abandoned, the red flags tattered and flapping in the wind. Many windows were broken, and trash littered the street.
Similar appearances greeted Joe as he continued panning his binoculars further out towards the perimeter of the circle. Small battlefields, more government buildings, etc. It was mostly abandoned as well, so Joe panned his camera until he began to see a living civilization.
Eventually he saw people walking in the streets, and he began to observe the landscape around them. The land was more like a city than ever before, a few office buildings had even been built. Many of these were abandoned though, tagged with graffiti, propaganda posters, and anime. Bars seemed to be set up everywhere, and people were walking from building to building, seemingly without purpose.
Looking behind him, Joe stared into the woodland spam swamp and decided he would be better off in the city (the poor unfortunate bastard.) He began to walk downhill lightly, being careful not to slip and fall. It was a long roll down the perimeter of the crater. Despite Joe's cautiousness though, he still fell. He began to roll and roll, hitting rocks and small bushes on the way, he tried to scream as a rock slashed his leg, but was promptly slammed face first into a boulder. The last thing he thought he heard as he blacked out was the crack of his own skull.
* * *
At some point, Joe became conscious that he was still alive. His eyes were shut, but he could still feel. He was lying on something flat and hard, with his legs hanging off the end. He slowly opened his eyes and found himself staring at a blank dark ceiling. Sitting up, Joe looked around the dimly lit room, and found that he was in a run down pub.
“What the... where am I?” Joe groaned. At the sound of his voice several customers stopped and then rushed up to Joe. They kept saying “Welcome to Hell” or “Welcome to FKL.” and “You got FKLed!” On top of this they began to thrust several dozen greeting cards at him, all with strange pictures and similar greetings. One man in particular seemed to have an endless supply, and was responsible for giving well over half of the cards.
Surprised and confused at the chaos Joe stared dumbly and said nothing. Eventually the people faded away. After a breather Joe looked around and gaped at the strange array of people. Many looked as if they had stepped straight out of an anime, and those had anime characters of all manner following them around. Their were (seemingly) normal people as well, lounging around. Though the atmosphere wasn't quite right about them. They all just seemed a little off.
One man had spiky blonde hair with goggles, another man seemed to have spinny eyes. A red haired girl who seemed rather tough, a young man in a black colored shirt and pants. A man that at first seemed severely sick, but actually turned out to be a zombie smoking. Joe shook his head and went to the bar.
Joe staggered up to the bar, maybe he could get a drink; sift through all the thoughts and images zipping around in his head. Wait a minute, hadn't he hit his head? The line “Welcome to Hell” came back to him and he shivered, he really hoped that wasn't the case. Joe slouched onto the stool and examined the bar tender. He was an awkward looking man, he had a belt around his waist that was was weighed down heavily by Yamatos.
After a moment the bartender turned to him and spoke, “So, would you like a bottle of GOD, GOD, or GOD?”
“Um, what?” Joe asked, still confused. The bar tender slammed down a bottle of some fluid and walked off to tend to something else. Joe began to sip the drink, it tasted foul and rancorous, much like his surroundings, but he drank it anyways. He muttered to himself, “Damn, just where the fuck am I any ways?” Surprisingly he got an answer from the man that was dressed in all black. At some point the guy had occupied the stool next to him.
“You're in FKL. There are few rules in this world, and everyones is insane or a little crazy. You can pretty much do whatever you want here unless it displeases the almighty Mods. Though you will also be subject to criticism and ownage by the others. Also, you can't leave?”
“What? What do you mean I can't leave? And just who the hell are you?”
“My name is Sord, and I meant it is impossible to leave. You've come into the trash heap, your going to go insane now, just like the rest of us.” At this the man gave a tight smile, it seemed to stretch back a little to far than normal. “You'll be stuck here, at least until the Almighty Mods banhammer you or you put yourself into a coma.”
“Banhammer, what the hell is that?”
“Well, you are already dead, so you can't be killed. So the Almighty Mods completely destroy your essence with the Banhammer. It's an interesting site to see, a mighty studded hammer falling from the sky, slamming down upon those who would defy them. Blood gushes out from under it for a few feet all around. Sometimes they'll miss the head and it pops off the crushed body. Fun to watch.”
Joe stared at this man, Sord, with a stupefied face. “Your sadistic! Your insane!” he shouted.
“We all are, the insane part anyways.”
“Wha-... You-.... Argh!” overcome with confusion, fear, and anger, Joe grabbed his head and screamed. He began to run out of the bar, crashing into other people as he dashed out. Their faces flashed before him, and they suddenly looked twisted and mad. The dim light casting shadows within their faces, and insane gleam in their eyes. He couldn't take it, he was
He finally made it to the door, bursting through it and outside. He quickly inhaled a fresh breath, or tried. The air was anything but fresh, it was foul and rank and made his head pulse. He kept running, heading towards the wall of the crater. Upon reaching it, he realized the wall was now completely flat and at a right angle to the ground. In fact, looking to both sides, it seemed to stretch on like this forever.
Joe began to scrape at the wall. He had to escape this place, he couldn't be dead, this wasn't hell. He had to get out. He scraped at the wall, digging and digging until his nails cracked and bleed. He couldn't get out. He began to sob, choking and heaving with overwhelming anxiety.
Suddenly Sord appeared in front of him as if out of the air.
“Wha.. What the hell are you? How did you-” Joe screamed.
“Me? I'm just human, like everyone else you saw. Well, most of them anyways. As for how I arrived here... This world, FKL, exists within it's own dimension. The bar you were just in acts as a sort of gateway throughout this dimension. Through it you can move to any point in time in this world. Any shop or subject or street. You can warp to wherever you fancy, though there aren't many places here that suit most people liking.”
Joe stared at the man. He still wore that sadistic grin, and had the gleam of insanity in his eyes like everyone else. Suddenly, the world felt very large, and Joe felt like... nothing. His whole world collapse around him. It began to warp and distort as the madness gripped him. Something about this place screwed with his head. He began to to scream, afraid, then angry. He began to shout at the heavens, cursing the Almighty Mods. He began to speak at the skies with such vehemence his tongue took on the form of flame. How could they do this? How could they-
Suddenly there was a large peel of thunder and the sky was ripped open. Out of the blackness of the tear a hammer began to fall, twirling as it fell through the sky. Joe realized it was coming straight for him and screamed even more, begging for his life. Sord looked at the hammer and then the cowering man.
“Only the insane survive here, and you have just done the most sane thing to get out of here. Paradoxically, it's also the most insane, as you will cease to exist now. Goodbye” At this Sord began to laugh as the man cowered. Joe watched the hammer, falling, falling, he was going to die, he was going to die, shit shit shit, HOW COULD IT END THIS WAY!?”
With one last glance at Sord, Joe saw the man mouth the word “pop,” and gave one last horrific scream as the hammer smashed his body. It missed his head, and it shot off like a cork. Sord grinned, looking at the hammer and the heavens.
“It's great to be insane, eh Mods? Extra props to you guys.” Laughing, Sord kicked the head back to the bar to mingle with the crowd, a path of blood trailing along.
Welcome to FKL, only the Insane survive here.
Author's note: The main goal of this short story is to create a setting for FKL. I needed a world in some semi-explainable way to present it in. Also the tone and atmoshpere needed to be set as well. Though I will admit I made it a bit more mad (as in crazy) just out of personal prefences. Some people might like super happynezz fun time comedy, but I sure as hell don't.
<font size=-1>[ This Message was edited by: Sord on 2007-06-06 18:21 ]</font>