1281: The Marrissa Games – Chapter FourPosted: December 27, 2015
Title: The Marissa Games
Author: Marissa the Writer
Media: Books/Movies/Video Games
Topic: The Hunger Games / Portal
Genre: Not Listed
URL: Chapter Four
Critiqued by agigabyte and Ghostcat (with special guests Goddess, Cain, and Syl)
Cain: Welcome back, Patrons and Librarians. This particular chapter is even more… interesting than others.
Goddess: Cain, what do you know that we don’t?
Cain: Not telling.
Syl: Well, that’s ominous. Should we make him tell us?
Ghostie: :sigh: Are we ever going to get through one of these without someone being threatened with grievous bodily harm?
Cain: Nope. Not with those two here. Maybe I should replace Goddess with Garrus.
Ghostie: I’m not really “up” on the canon version, but I think we’re better off with the devil we know.
Syl: :elbows Goddess: I think she’s flirting with you.
Goddess: I’d be fine with that.
Cain: Just pretend she doesn’t exist. It’s rather effective.
Ghostie: Good to know.
Goddess: Aww. She’s not flirting?
Cain: What are you, twelve? *Shudders* Wait, didn’t we decide Sadie was a twelve year old schoolgirl? What if she’s really Goddess?
Goddess: Now I want a Doge.
Ghostie: And I want a drink. I guess that means it’s time to start.
Cain: *Hands over a Brain Bleach Gargleblaster.
Chapter 5: OLD FRENDS AN NEW ENEMYS
Goddess: *Shoots Marissa* It’s chapter four, dumbass.
Ghostie: And she has no friends.
I JUS SAW MEN IN BACK 3 LAST DAY AN IT WASS SOOOOO GOD.
Cain: I didn’t know a movie could be God. Interesting.
Syl: The first time I had ice cream, I thought I saw the face of God. Those Ben and Jerry blokes know what they’re doing.
Goddess: Pantheon Inc has Olympic Ice Cream. All Organic, with artificial flavors.
Cain: Wait, how? What? But… that’s not organic.
Ghostie: … My brain hurts.
Goddess: Getting you two back for all those headaches.
Syl: You could have just given them the ice cream. That sounds like it would have done the trick, too.
I THINK ILL MAYB E PUTS THEM IN TEH STORY 2 BUT IM NOT SHORE YET ANYAY, HEERS
Not a Verb Counter: 393
Goddess: This bodes well. Also, “heers” is the end of the paragraph. Lovely.
Ghostie: For a second I thought that said Toy Story 2 and my world went all gray around the edges.
THE MARRISSA GAMES
CHAPTRE 3: OLD FRENDS AN NEW ENEMYS
Goddess: *Shoots Marissa* It’s chapter 4, dumbass.
Ghostie: Wait a second … Did it just go from five to three?
I was a small town gurl (if Portal Labs cold evn be call a town lol)
wit a huge town problem.
Cain: There is no wit in this fic. We have to insert copious amounts to make it bearable.
Ghostie: And Aperture Science wasn’t a town. There was one test subject and a butt-load of skeletons. That’s not a town.
Syl: It would be in that odd vault game.
Hamtash was druggin an beerin stead of tranin me an Prem an Peeta Peeta Sandvich Eata.
Not a Verb Counter: 396
Russian Stereotype: Vould you like a Sandvich.
Syl: Why, hello there, Comrade Handsome.
Ghostie: Are you flirting with the Russian Stereotype?!?
Syl: I like the accent.
iF we didant get tran soon then we wold die for shore in teh gameses. Ther had to sum way to stop the drug raje.
Goddess: Who’s Drug Raje? Is he a criminal overlord? If so, tell him to contact Pantheon Incorporated.
Cain: Do you really want to recruit someone affiliated with this fic?
Ghostie: Imagine what it would do for Pantheon’s reputation.
Goddess: Ah, true. Disregard. *Sends hit squad to kill Drug Raje* That should help our reputation.
Syl: Cold, ruthless, without mercy or reason. I approve.
Cain: You would.
Befour I cold think the trane stoped. “Sorry guys we musta runned over a aminal or sumthin its all good.” Effy said from bein the drain triver.
Not a Verb Counter: 401
Ghostie: Effie’s the train conductor? How?
Cain: And if she was one, then why would she be in the dining room, and not conducting the damn thing?
Syl: Maybe she’s on her lunch break.
<rim is not so beleef tho she say “Marrissa sumthin fishys goin down here I dont lick the look of this…”
Not a Verb Counter: 404
Goddess: You’re right, this fic is rather ugly.
Syl: I think it’s starting to chafe from all the licking.
I powered up my powers just incays she was rite an there was maybe danger.
Not a Verb Counter: 405
Cain: Not again! We just shrunk the Terribad Field down to regular size, damnit! …Wait, where are they?
Ghostie: See, situations like this are why we keep the Library fully stocked with disposable interns. For this, and for Intern Bowling.
Redshirt 1046329324839472101970471304hyacinth823801924732646: (Over intercom) Shit! DRD Boarding Party! They’ve found a way to get through the Terribad Field! He- *The intercom cuts off*
Syl: Sounds like we’re missing quite a party. I think I’ll nip out for a bit…
Ghostie: Oh, no! If I have to be here, so do you.
Syl: :pouts: You never let me have fun.
Ghostie: That’s because I don’t like you.
Cain: Agent [REDACTED], get a team of Elite Operatives down there!
Agent [REDACTED]: Aye, sir. *Goes into Agent Quarters, and comes out with a team of heavily armored soldiers, who then begin walking towards the enemies*
Cain: Syl, if you want to go, now’s your chance. *Gets up, and a suit of armor forms around him* Putting this riff on hiatus until we have dealt with the DRD.
Syl: :produces a large knife and a flintlock pistol: WOO-HOO!
Screen: *Fades to black* Why is it always black that signifies cutting? That’s racist!
Cain: Shut up!
Syl: The sentient screen has a point. You could just call it an absence of light.
Ghostie: Why are you taking the screen’s side?
Cain: To annoy you.
Peeta Peeta Sandich Eata happied an go “Wow Prim yur ver good at situashun solvins.” She bushed at nise compilament an I smied at the happy.
Not a Verb Counter: 410
Ghostie: I think I’m going to shrubbery.
Cain: That’s not all that difficult for anyone with a modicum of genre savviness. Which no one else in this fic seems to have.
Then the trane blow up.
Goddess: It’s not like you to get excited over the prospect of people dying. Please stop.
Syl: It’s the way she smiles that is the really creepy part.
“OOOOOOODFFFFRRRRGGGOFFF!1@!211” I sad as the grownd went fast down to me.
Not a Verb Counter: 411
Ghostie: Gravity done got broked.
Cain: Also, what is that… thing in the quotes supposed to be? Interpretive art?
Syl: I think it’s the sound a wounded elephant makes.
I crushed inot a hooge crater but I made sheeld an was ok.
Ghostie: I find kicking a desk is good for these situations.
The trayne was all rooned an broken an sum bandids were there.
Cain: Suddenly and from behind.
Syl: Or below. Or somewhere. Because gravity!
Ghostie: That almost looks like “Band-Aids” towards the end.
Syl: If the train blew up they’re going to need a lot of those.
“We are robers weer here to kill u an take yur stuff an things!!@!!”
Not a Verb Counter: 412
Cain: Can’t fault them for honesty. Or wait, yes I can. YOU DON’T ADMIT TO BEING ROBBERS YOU MORON!
Syl: You don’t? Damn, now I have to return all those business cards I ordered.
The liter said. ATLAS an B-Body gotted to them an anger faced “Nu uh b*****s we gon kill you!”
Not a Verb Counter: 415
Syl: … What are those asterisks doing there?
Cain: Oh, yeah, Marissa sporadically censors herself.
Ghostie: Unless it’s the “evil” version of herself, Assiram.
Syl: … That is one of the stupidest things you two have said since the whole “smoking beer” robots thing.
But the was 2 drunk an hi so they felled over asleep.
Ghostie: It’s “passed out”, not “fall asleep”. Two different things.
The bandids all lolled at the dum jerk robots an I lolled to becos it was prettay funny. But then I rembered they was gonin kill us so I had to fite.
Not a Verb Counter: 419
Ghostie: Aren’t the bandids supposed to be asleep, or passed-out drunk? Or was that the robots?
Goddess: The robots. Because robots can pass out from being drunk and high. Makes as much sense as anything else in this fic.
Ghostie: Which is to say, absolutely none.
Cain: I’m now going to refer to them as Bandaids.
Syl: I already have been.
Haymatch o-mouthed then he came.
Not a Verb Counter: 420
Cain: Wait, what?
“OMG wats goin on?”
Ghostie: … I’m not explaining it to him.
Cain: *Looks over* Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was busy drowning my memories of this with Brain Bleach Gargleblaster.
Ghostie: :holds out glass: Top me up.
Cain: *Pours a drink* Still not as bad as the final chapter of Teen Fortress 2.
Goddess: Don’t remind me.
He dumed but we didant have tim to talk theese bandids had to go 1st.
Not a Verb Counter: 421
Syl: He’s taking turns with the Bandaids? That’s just nasty.
“Yuo cannot defeet us, I AM FRANK FIVETEEN@@!”
Not a Verb Counter: 422
Ghostie: :repeatedly headdesks:
It was…. FRANK FIFETEEN!!!33
Cain: *Alarms Blare* Damnit, not again. We just beat off the damn DRD!
Syl: That’s what she said.
Cain: *Cradles his head in his hands* Just kill me now. And that’s a metaphor for how much I dislike you. I’m not being literal.
*Screen fades to lack of light*
Cain: Damnit, Goddess.
Syl: Thank you.
Goddess: You’re welcome.
Cain: I swear, someday, I’m going to kill one of them. Also, I’m using the phrase “I swear” as an exaggeration.
Ghostie: Get in line and we’ll flip a coin.
(AN: Hes a reel jerk who draws all the most hot an pretty gurls, but not Marrissa becos hes a prejewdise gainst me for bein more cooler than him so he wants to kill me)
Not a Verb Counter: 425
Syl: Is he an Orthodox Prejewdise or Reformed?
Ghostie: I don’t think either of those things are real.
Syl: Maybe not in this dimension.
Cain: So, he’s a dimension traveler? I’m rooting for him, because anyone who’s bad in her view has a rather high chance of being good.
Ghostie: He does want to kill her, which is common trait among those who read this turdmuffin.
I did a doble jump into the sky an yelled “POWER OF!”
Not a Verb Counter: 426
Cain and Ghostie: :jointly holding aloft a sword: BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!
Syl: :covers face with hands: This is so embarrassing.
Goddess: I’m ashamed of them.
Cain: Hush, you.
Dakota: *Walks in* Did someone say Grayskull?
Cain: Yeah, this fic just had Marissa say “POWER OF” and leave it there. Perfect opportunity for a He-Man reference.
Dakota: Ah, OK. *Walks out*
Syl: :waves: He was cute.
an it made theyre guns refracted an no use.
Not a Verb Counter: 427
Ghostie: It made their guns … refracted? That’s what her power does now, it changes visual properties?
Cain: I honestly have no idea why the plot would demand that. Maybe it’s smoking beer.
Syl: Possibly because blue.
Ghostie: It’s refracted, so it might be because green by now.
But they still fists for punch but Peeta Peeta Snadwich Eatar armlocked them!!
Not a Verb Counter: 429
Cain: Depending on how many people are in this character blob, it may be difficult for someone to armlock all of them.
Ghostie: Must have a kraken in his pocket. They’re good for that kind of thing.
“Lol u think that we didant bring a bakup plan?”
Ghostie: There was a primary plan?
Goddess: Is the plan something involving pie?
Syl: I really hope so.
Frank lolled pornograffically.
Not a Verb Counter: 430
Goddess: I’m confused. And more so than I usually am when reading this.
Ghostie: Yeah, I’ve got nothin’.
His shirt untied an I saw his bellbotten was a canon wif guns!!33
Goddess: Not again!
Cain: No, we’re fine. *Opens intercom* Attention, DRD. You have made a mistake. This is a Canon, not a cannon.
*Alarms stop blaring as the DRD leaves*
Cain: Crisis averted.
Ghostie: But he’s wearing bellbottom cannons! Isn’t he?
Syl: No, canon. The other kind.
BOOM WAM BAM JAMBOBOOOMBOOOM BAM!~`1`~~~~~!1!! The canon said loud an made bullets in all my plases. “Wat how I not kill you?//
Not a Verb Counter: 440
Ghostie: The Canon suddenly turned into Little Richie.
Syl: And then made bullets in the places, presumably with the things.
I just lolled becos he didant no bout my spesal power.
Cain: Perhaps she used the Suefluence on the bullets.
I immune to bullets after ATLAS N PBODY shooted me in the hed I became immune.
Not a Verb Counter: 441
Ghostie: :headdesks: That’s not how immunity works. At all. Not even a little bit.
Goddess: But Ghostie, bullets are a disease! Says silly anti-military nutjobs.
Syl: And those deluded anti-vaccination weirdos think everyone is naturally immune to diseases.
Cain: And here, Goddess and Syl demonstrate their lack of political correctness.
Ghostie: I really want to slap them, but I value my life too much.
Cain: *Shoots both Goddess and Syl with concussive stun rifles* There. *Puts restraints on both of them*
Ghostie: Wow, it suddenly got quiet in here!
Goddess: *Wakes up* Wha- really, Cain? *Attempts to teleport out* What? Why won’t it work?
Cain: You can thank the Agency for that.
Syl: :throws restraints over shoulder: Need some help with those, Bright Eyes?
*Restraints reappear on Syl’s hands*
Cain: And that.
Syl: :restraints fall off: You can thank my Negation Gift for that.
*Negation Gift is Negated, and Restraints reappear*
Cain: You can thank my Parody Stu-ness for that.
Syl: Well… Hey, look! :points: Something shiny!
Cain: Unlike you, I’m not immediately distracted by shiny objects.
Ghostie: Where? :looks around: Hey, where’d they go?
Cain: And unlike her, I’m genre savvy.
Ghostie: I’m plenty genre-savvy. I’m … Why are you wearing restraints? :looks down: Why am I wearing restraints?
Syl: Bright Eyes put in a call to the PCC.
Cain: Screw it. Truce? *Shoots Syl’s hand as she tries to steal his ID* She’s not the only who can do that.
Syl: Can’t blame a girl for trying.
Ghostie: Yes, we can!
Cain: Again, truce?
Syl: Fine. I need to rub one of those outlaws on my hand.
Ghostie: They aren’t real Band-Aids, you know.
Syl: I know.
Hamish was watchin the hole fite an gettin reel impressed.
Not a Verb Counter: 443
Goddess: You could even say he was getting excited.
Syl: Or he’s going fishing.
Woah they relay do got the chops! He head thot with hed.
Ghostie: Does it count if it’s spelled differently? I don’t think it does.
Cain: *Broadcasts on open channel* It’s a Hed he head thought with, not a head.*Closes the channel* Nope.
Syl: You just don’t want us to have any fun.
Bu the biggest show was Priim. She climed up a tall metal from the broketrain an striped her clothes of till she was in underiewear then swanged from it hittin bad guys with feet.
Not a Verb Counter: 447
Cain: *Conjures a large barricade in front of the screen* Everybody down! *Takes cover*
Goddess: Oh, no! *Takes cover*
Syl: :waves Ghostie’s wallet: SHAKE IT, BABY!
Ghostie: Give me that! And get down, you idiot! :grabs Syl’s arm and tries to pull her down:
Cain: …I forgot Syl isn’t military.
Ghostie: Or very prudent when faced with partially-clad humans.
Cain: Who happen to be young teenagers. Granted, it’s her, so I’m not surprised.
Syl: What can I say? I have a weakness.
“MY MILKSHAK BRINGS ALL THE BOYZ TO TEH YARD AN THERE LICK ITS BETTAR THEN YURS D***** RITE ITS BETTAR THAN YURS I COLD TEECH U BUT I HAF TO CHARJE!!1” Pimp sunged.
Not a Verb Counter: 451
*A wave of terribad energy flies out from the screen, scorching Syl and the back wall of the room*
Syl: Ooh, nice! I’ve got a lovely tan now. :pats out small fire on sleeve: Warn me next time, I hate getting tan lines.
Cain: Note to self, never warn Syl again. Also, we fucking warned you!
(AN: I DONNT OWN TEH SONG ITS FROM SUM GUYS OR GURLS I DONT NO BUT I DIDANT MAKE IT.)
Ghostie: Just like Syl, the author can’t distinguish girls from boys.
Syl: I can distinguish! I just don’t care.
Goddess: She also has a tentacle fetish, according to her dossier.
Syl: Tentacles and the occasional winged humanoid; I like to mix things up sometimes.
Peepta Peeta Sandich Eata stared at her with all the lovey an gotted bushed.
Goddess: Oh, me. Please don’t tell me this will turn into a “cumquat” scene, as it was called on the My Immortal riff on dessicatedlogic.
“UNF!!!!” He runned off to do his man tenshun releef bisiness (not wif bisness man becos that wold be grosse!!)
Not a Verb Counter: 453
Syl: Why is he doing this in public at all?
Cain: No idea. No idea at all.
Ghostie: Not even remotely interested in finding out.
I ifinished off Frunk Fivetons
Not a Verb Counter: 454
Cain: The term “finish off” implies that you harmed him before hand. Also, WHO THE HELL IS FRUNK FIVETONS?!
Ghostie: I think he’s related to Frank Fiveteen and Frank Fifeteen from earlier. The whole family’s here.
by garrotin his lower puncreas to make the blood an branes an guts go to the other plase so he got a rectal prolaps an died.
Not a Verb Counter: 456
Cain: What? But… ugh. So… bad… You fail biology forever.
Ghostie: :headdesks: Garrotted someone but managed to mangle their pancreas and brain at the same time and then damage their rectum.
Syl: Reminds me of a double-jointed acrobat of my acquaintance.
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Died Frak13.
Goddess: Meanwhile, Marissa got torn apart by Frunk Fivetons, Frank Fiveteen, and Frank Fifeteen.
Cain: Is Frak13 the thirteenth in a series of curse-oriented killer robots?
Syl: And where can I order one?
Cain: I’m not sure you want to, since it died with no cause. Probably a cheap Redshirt Knockoff.
Ghostie: Or one of Bifocals’ rejects.
Goddess: Wait, she rejects the ones that tend to explode?
Ghostie: Even the ones she doesn’t reject tend to explode. There’s a reason her workshop is way at the other end of the Library from everyone else.
Haymin an sum reds oned up. I goat reddy to chew Haymich out for thinkin we was week bu then he started shakin my hand
Not a Verb Counter: 458
Ghostie: Hey, are those your Redshirts?
Cain: They are! That bitch! *Reaches into the fic and pulls the Redshirts out, whereupon they die*
Syl: That’ll teach ‘em.
an the red kised my feets lick I wasa queen or sumthin.
Not a Verb Counter: 459
Goddess: Well, we established a chapter or two ago that you are a queen, so I’m not surprised.
Syl: I’m surprised they aren’t literally kissing her ass while they’re down on their knees.
“So much powerful form u three. Ok, no more druggin an beerin I will trane you to be the Hunger Games EVAR!!!!121”
Not a Verb Counter: 462
Cain: Wait, he’s going to train them to be the actual Hunger Games?
Ghostie: Like, literally the personification of petty in-fighting and battling to the death? And he isn’t even going to train them to be the best, he’s just going to train them. Marissa-Sue will probably be the best anyway, but that’s because she’s the Sue, but everyone else is screwed.
Haymatich yelled wile yellin becos it was THAT LOWD.
Not a Verb Counter: 463
Cain: *Headdesks on an extra short headdesking desk that’s behind the barricade* Not again. *Opens intercom* OK, people, you know the drill. *Gets up and walks out the door, grabbing a plasma chainsword on the way, as his armor forms around him*
Screen: *Fades to black*
Syl: :coughs pointedly:
Screen: *Fades to an absence of light*
I huged him an Prim did affer she got clothes on becos Haymithc is a old dude an she shudant be pedofilin with him or any thins like that.
Not a Verb Counter: 465
Cain: *Retcons Marissa’s limbs away again* Pedophile isn’t a verb, dumbass!
Syl: :uses Gift of Negation to restore Marissa’s limbs: Do it again.
Goddess: *Shoots Marissa’s limbs off*
Syl: You want to take a whack at her, Ghostie?
Ghostie: I’m good, thanks.
Peeta Peeata Sandwich Eata came bathroom out an hug too.
Goddess: He… became a bathroom?
Ghostie: The author does enjoy using her characters as her own personal toilet, but this is a bit too much.
Syl: Thank you for that visual.
Mayeb now we wud win with Maymitch tranin us…
Not a Verb Counter: 466
MEANWILE IN THE PAST
Teh reds fromb efour came onto the rownd room.
Not a Verb Counter: 467
Syl: Damnit, not more zombies!
“Ah Ajunts K an J I see yur back frum yur misshun?” J an L nooded with heads an taked off there reds becos it was only diguise.
Not a Verb Counter: 469
Ghostie: … What? Are we still in the same fic?
Cain: Wait a second. Remember the author’s note?
Ghostie: No? I’ve had a lot of Brain Bleach Gargleblasters since then.
I JUS SAW MEN IN BACK 3 LAST DAY AN IT WASS SOOOOO GOD.
I THINK ILL MAYB E PUTS THEM IN TEH STORY 2 BUT IM NOT SHORE YET ANYAY, HEERS
Cain: I can’t believe it. Marissa just foreshadowed something.
Ghostie: Wow. Subtle. For her, anyway.
“Yes Mr. Prisedent Lincan we haf disvocered that Marrissa Robers is in Hunger Games troble!!” Deadpanned K wile J did a funny joke.
Not a Verb Counter: 471
Goddess: Now what the funny joke is, we will never know.
Syl: It will haunt me.
Cain: Wait, so Agents J and K, from the twenty first century, are in the past, talking with President Lincoln about Marissa, who’s going to be trained to be the Hunger Games, several centuries in the future.
Ghostie: The timeline’s a big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff…
Syl: Don’t get started on that.
Goddess: This… but… this fic needs to stop right now.
“Oh wems this is badder than thot. We most help Marrissa but how.” Abraman Liknan (AN ITS THE PAST REMBER SO HE CAN PRESDENT)
Not a Verb Counter: 472
Ghostie: IN THE LATE EIGHTEEN HUNDREDS!
scrutched beerd an thot. “Thers only one people who can help Marrisser. J an K I need u to get me…… TEEN FORTRESS 2!!!@2~~~!!!”
Not a Verb Counter: 473
Ghostie: We need the real President Lincoln to ride in on his bear to save the day!
Ghostie: … :shrugs Close enough.
Syl: That disturbs me on many different levels.
TO BE CONTINUED!!!
:loud cursing from Cain, Syl, Ghostie, and Goddess:
GESS THATS NOT TEH LAST WE SEED OF TEEN FORTRESS 2 AN HWS IS J AN K GONNA AFFLECT THE STORY PLOTS? WATS GOIN DOWN WIT WHEETLY? FIND OUT SOOOONS IN THE NEXT 1!
Not a Verb Counter: 477
Cain: I don’t plan on finding out any time soon.
Syl: Is Wheatley still in this fic?
Cain: I hope not.
Ghostie: Less talky, more drinky.
Cain: Indeed. *Takes a swig of Brain Bleach Gargleblaster*
Goddess: See you guys next time!
Screen: *Fades to bla- erm, Absence of Light*