643: Mass Effected (The Second Snarking) – Chapter One

Title: Mass Effected
Author: RockJumper
Media:  Video Game
Topic: Mass Effect
Genre: Sci-fi/Adventure
URL: Mass Effected: Chapter 1
Critiqued by ME-Iron-Maiden

Hello, Library patrons!  So today we have one of our readers doing a secondary snarking on Mass Effected, which we have been introduced to by Herr W.  Please give a warm library welcome to ME-Iron-Maiden!

I’ve read a few Self-Inserts on here and I’d thought I’d try one.

Depending on how this goes, I may ask you to assign the same logic to jumping off the nearest convenient bridge…

I slap the off button on the top right of the timer and roll out of bed.

We’re all familiar with the functioning of an alarm clock, dude.

I wish we hadn’t run out of toast strudels yet. They are really good. Making a sandwich with them is totally awesome. I sit down in the bar area and fill the bowl up with cereal, a little to high. ‘Cause that’s how I roll.

<voice=Prof_Farnsworth> Good news everyone! I’ve created a guy that talks like a valley girl and a gangsta at the same time! </voice>

I’m such a kid.

Great. Now he’s going to start bleating and gnawing on random objects.

I glance quickly at the mirror. Still to tall for it. Being 6′ 2″ sucks sometimes. Brown hair, brown eyebrows, brown eyes, nice and pale. Nothing new.

That last bit must be referring to the premise of this story.

I put on my Tali shirt, put on my Commander Shepard full zip hoodie, and throw on some black pants. I’m totally ready to kill some Geth now.

Please. Legion would own you inside thirty seconds. The only reason why he wouldn’t do so faster is because he’s not an assassination unit of unparalleled sophistication, you meatbag.

Mise as well make the most of it, right? I grab my essentials, psp, wallet, phone.

Too bad you forgot to include spellchecking, creativity, and a plot for this abomination.

Screw the car. I don’t like wasting gas.

Just everyone else’s time.

It may be a small town with no crime, but there still are dumbass teenagers.

No kidding. You saw one when you looked in the mirror earlier.

I go to the refrigerated section, and what luck! They even have the glass bottled ones. Sweet. I grab an apple flavored one and walk up to the checkout. $3.19, not bad. That’s 16 ounces of pure awesomeness.

$3.19, however, will not improve the quality of this story, I’m afraid.

 I’m a nerd, what do you expect?

Sir, I have known a great many nerds in my life. Trust me, you are no nerd. Something about your lack of apparent intelligence.

 I double click the Mass Effect 3 icon and wait for the option screen. I hit play, and the infamous Bioware logo flashes on screen. You know I never finished my save as a sentinel. I should probably finish that, should only take an hour or two, I’m nearly done with it. Damn, dual Omniblades are awesome. Most people are all “Oh no infiltrator is the best class, you can turn invisible!” Pashaw. Dual Omniblades own all, combined with Tech Armor, that is some serious ass kicking.

Playing a game that does not yet exist in its finished state and talking shit like some Call of Duty/Halo pre-teen. Never seen that before.

I exit the Mass Effect 3 screen and glance back at my icons. I’m so OCD about that, ME1, ME2, and ME3 all lined up.

Too bad the same can’t be said for your grammar and spelling… wait a sec… *borrows his comp, screws with the icon alignment, takes a screenshot of the current setup, sets it as the wallpaper, and puts all the legit icons in the recycle bin* Problem?

“Hey ******! Nice jacket!”

Oh, you jealous of my Commander Shepard full zip hoodie? You better be because it is totally awesome.

“You jelly?”

Heh.

Ha ha ha- no.

Before he can even finish his sentence I land a fist right on his neck and he crumples to the grass. Ok time to go. I see his buddies help him up off the ground and they start quickly walking away. Wow. Afraid, much?

More like they’re going to come back with some way to really fuck you up.

Phew that was close. Now to get the the hell away from here befo- I turn around to see him and his buddies in his beaten up old pickup revving the engine and heading right towards me.

Told ya.

It just had to be a culdesac. No cut-offs into an adjacent street, or even just another road. This won’t end pretty. The sound of that old diesel engine is getting way to close for comfort. I look back and he is less then 20 yards away by this point.

I’m pretty sure your bike can go off of the streets and into areas where that truck can’t follow. Just a thought.

Did he just kill me? Because I called him an asshole?

And the little fact that you punched him in the neck and shamed him in front of his pals.

I don’t know if I should be pissing my pants or having a nerdgasm. This looks like, no couldn’t be, am I on the Citadel?

No. The Irish toast “may ye be in ‘eaven ‘alf ‘n hour a’fore the devil knows yer dead” would apply here, methinks.

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