Chris113022, The Expert Scrivener

Member Since

9/22/2014

Last Activity

7/21/2021 9:13 PM

EXP Points

2,516

Post Count

3022

Storygame Count

9

Duel Stats

68 wins / 63 losses

Order

Infrangible Warden Exemplar

Commendations

254

Trophies Earned

Earning 100 Points Earning 500 Points Earning 1,000 Points Earning 2,000 Points Having 1 Storygame(s) Featured Rated 52.5% of all Stories Given by BerkaZerka on 03/27/2020 - For growing into CYS Given by EndMaster on 12/15/2019 - The Answer to The Question fanfics Given by MadHattersDaughter on 03/11/2021 - You have really blossomed. Keep up the excellent writing.

Storygames

Dark Nights
NOTE: This story is one of my weakest. Feel free to give it a read if you want to, but don't expect anything too good, especially if you've read some of my other works. Gotham City was home to a myriad of vigilantes, and, in your personal opinion, the Huntress was the most interesting of them. So when you hear she's in trouble, of course you decide to give her a helping hand... Things escalate from there.

Dog Day

An unrepentant criminal tries to dodge his former associates after a weapons deal goes wrong. My entry for EndMaster's Edgelord Contest 2. I literally only wrote this to avoid SHAME so don't expect anything too great.


Dusty Fist

Can you get a good drink while fending off raiders?

A young martial artist visits a post-apocalyptic town in search of a drink. What happens next is up to you in this classic style CYOA inspired by the cult classic God Hand.

Special Thanks To:
Cricket - For beta reading.

Author's Notes: This is mostly just a little something I wrote for my own amusement and isn't meant to be taken seriously at all. It's written in the Time Cave format, which means that every choice leads you down a unique path instead of all that rebranching and stuff that modern interactive fiction tends to use.

With that said, leave all your common sense at the door, because it's about to get weird.


Dusty Fist 2: Electric Boogaloo

A young martial artist goes on another hilarious romp through post-apocalyptic America.

My entry for Mizal's 2019 Lone Hero Contest.

Authors Notes: This is a sequel to Dusty Fist. You don't actually need to have read the original in order to enjoy this one, as that was more of an elaborate shitpost while this... Is also an elaborate shitpost.


Hard Night

Just a regular night.

In this game, you play as the Question, Hub City's faceless protector. One night, what appears to be a normal drug bust goes south fast, and you find yourself with only two hours to live, an antidote to find, and a gang to topple.

Looks like it's just a normal night in Hub City.

First in the Questionable Tales series, a series of fanfiction games starring the Question. There's four endings not counting deaths: one bad, one bittersweet, one good, and one true ending. See if you can find them all.

The Question is copyright DC Comics. So yeah, don't sue me.

Author's Note: This game is really rough around the edges. I decided to give it a quick run through on October 4th, 2019 (over a year and a half after the original publication on February 2nd, 2018), in order to fix some minor bugs and add a "cheat code" for the infamously obtuse antidote puzzle. Hopefully, there are no more problems with the scripting and the like.

... And I ended up giving it another edit on October 8th, 2019 because I noticed another bug when replaying it. Not a major one, but still. I really didn't have my link restrictions in order at all.


Life In The Fast Lane
A getaway driver goes on a quest for revenge.

Silent Night

A very questionable Christmas special.

It's Christmas in Hub City. One might expect that even criminals would take the night off, but you've learned the hard way that crime doesn't sleep. While the rest of the city is tucked into their homes in the company of loved ones, you're on the hunt in a silent city, making sure that things stay that way.

The Question is copyright DC comics. So yeah, don't sue me.

Author's Notes: Did I say I was definitely not going to write a Question fanfiction for this contest? Because what I meant was I didn't mean to but I had to squeeze something out before the contest's end. And with Christmas so fast approaching, what better than a Christmas special, eh?


TechNOIR

Noir story in a cyberpunk dystopia. Four types of endings: deaths, bad endings, good endings, and one perfect ending. See if you can find them all, it shouldn't be too hard. Endings are tracked using the score variable: zero means death, one means bad, two means good, three means perfect.

Special thanks to:
Tim36D - For listening to me ramble on about the idea, making suggestions, and writing a few pages.
ISentinelPenguinI - For playtesting.

Finally, if you notice any bugs, please PM me and I'll get to work on them as soon as I can (though I do believe they've all been worked out, can never be too sure).

Mood music.


Featured Story When The Music's Over
I hear a very gentle sound... Once you were the bravest hero in the land. Then, the greatest noble. Now, a washed up drunkard past his prime. But when the king asks for you to turn the tide of a war, will you accept, or cast his offer aside to walk your own path? Author's Notes: I originally intended for every single choice to branch out into a unique path, but to get this out I had to cut some of my plans short. There is minor rebranching here and there along with a few duplicate pages that have minor changes depending on how you reached those pages. On top of that, the path for accepting the king's offer is much more bare bones than I wanted it to be and is only about a third of the rest of the game's size (10k to the rest of the game's 30k). Someday, I hope to return to this story and make it the epic it deserves to be. For now, however, the game is finished. The SCORE variable doesn't indicate how good you did. It's just a way to keep track of what ending the reader got. If you play the game, please give a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts. Special Thanks: Tim36D - For being my long-suffering best friend and listening to me ramble on about this story. Thanks man. Mizal - For constantly busting my ass to get this storygame done. Boom, now it is. Shadowdrake27 - For proofreading the story. Without him, there would be many typos and grammar errors. The CYS Discord - For being there to let me ramble on about my story on the occasions that Tim wasn't. The entire CYS community - For putting up with me for 5 years now. Stay classy, you omnidirectional vitriol spewers.

Ringing In The Abyss
unpublished , coauthor

You awake to the sound of a small bell ringing, the gentle clangs of tin echoing through the endless black. Speaking of... Where the hell are you?

(Thanks to my man Chris for proofreading.)


Recent Posts

What are you watching? on 6/15/2021 1:52:46 PM
Literally exactly what Ugilick said. It's a great show and it's hard to even begin to say how much it's influenced other works of fiction that came after it but season 1 is probably the only part of it that is consistently amazing. But if you love the horror parts and unexplainable nonsense then season 3 is for you.

What are you watching? on 6/3/2021 10:13:14 AM
Wow, I have never seen such a wrong opinion in my life.

Jew Jitsu! on 5/21/2021 1:41:03 PM
Holy fuck

R.I.P Kentaro Miura (creator of Berserk) on 5/20/2021 8:24:21 PM
Heard about it at work last night and was genuinely upset for the rest of my shift. Really sucks he had to go, especially considering how young he was. Berserk was also a really big part of my life and I'm sad that now it'll never be finished, at least not by Miura.

SUP I’M A HUGE FAGGOT on 5/18/2021 2:19:37 AM
Holy shit, please stop posting.

THE TRUTH ABOUT ISRAEL on 5/17/2021 12:02:10 AM
Okay but why don't you move to Nevada?

THE TRUTH ABOUT ISRAEL on 5/16/2021 9:11:04 PM
Okay but why don't you look up some bitches?

Somewhat Damaged on 5/8/2021 3:02:47 AM
A sequel to Grinder. --- my hands glide down her thighs and i feel her caress as she rubs her hands up and down my back i feel an explosion of guilt and fear and lust and rage but her touch makes it all go away she is an endless void of everything the more i feel her the less i feel myself i bury my face into her neck to stop it all from slipping away find you taste you fuck you use you break you you will take me scar me hate me erase me kill me kill me kill me kill me killme killme killkillkillkillkillkillkill help me i am in hell i break myself out of her embrace i wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze she croaks out a moan she brushes a hand across my face softly and i feel my grip loosen i feel the void calling me and i squeeze harder harder harder. Harder. She scrapes bloody trails down my face and neck and chest with her nails but I ignore it all. I keep squeezing until I feel her throat collapse against my grip and she tries to scream then. No sound escapes her but a wispy breath and as that last breath leaves her lips, I find my body racked with sobs. Tears drip from my eyes onto her face. I press my lips against hers, expecting her to kiss me back. She remains still. I close my eyes. When I open my eyes again, I find myself submerged in a pool of motor oil and afterbirth, swimming to try and escape from this black sea that I was coerced into. The tar seeps into my mouth as I gasp for a breath that won't come. Reach the surface. Get out of this ocean of decay. The way out is through. The darkness of the oil and blood gives way to a blinding light as I emerge from the sea and collapse on the ground. I wipe the liquid from my eyes and blink rapidly, trying to make out where I am. What I see is a jungle invading a factory, broken machines overtaken by vines and moss with sunlight creeping in through shattered windows and missing chunks in the roof. I'm still in the factory. How long was I out? A breeze blows past and I shiver as I feel the cool wind on my bare skin. A few feet ahead of me I see a pile of torn up clothes. My clothes. I reach out to grab them and put them on to block the breeze, only to freeze when I see my arm. Where once there was flesh, there is now rusted metal and exposed wiring. What happened to my arm? My other arm is still flesh, still human. I caress my face with it, trying to feel what is still living. Jawbone. Boney cheek. Squishy eye. Fleshy nose. Metal eye. Metal cheek. Metal jaw. What the hell happened to me? I close my eyes. Please just be a dream. I open my eyes and the metal remains. I flex my metallic fingers and feel nothing despite the movement. It isn't a dream. Oh God, what am I? What the hell did this to me? Was it that thing that the old drunkard warned me about? It attacked me and I became... This? This can't be happening. Why would it do this? What would it have to gain from turning me into a broken down machine? I'm a freak and it's all that thing's fault. Flesh still remains but for how long? Maybe that will bake under the sun and rot off of me. Chunks of grotesque meat peeling back to reveal more mechanical insides until nothing remains but the machine. No. I won't let it take me over. I am still alive. I grab the rags and slip myself into them, trying to get into something resembling a decent state. My revolver is nearby and I pick it up. Rust has started to encroach on the frame, but with a quick pull of the trigger aimed at the window I find that it's still in working order. I stick the gun into my jacket's one good pocket. I start walking, trying to find my way out of the factory. I should never have come here to begin with. This whole ordeal has taken everything from me. Everything but my will to keep going. I have to keep going. Minutes later and I'm standing before the double doors that lead out of the factory, a shaky hand trying and failing to reach out and push them open. I'm scared of leaving, terrified of how the outside world will see me. Maybe I can disguise myself, hide this... Corruption that's taken a hold on me. As I scan the room, I see the old drunkard's pile of cardboard and rags pressed up against the wall. Hesitantly, I walk forward, expecting him to slowly rise from his abode like he did only a few... However long ago it was. But when I reach out a hand and touch it, nothing happens. I slowly lift up the cardboard and beneath it, I see a rotten skeleton, so decayed that there isn't even a smell anymore. A small reptile scrambles out of the eye socket and scurries away. Jesus, how long has it been? I spend some time scavenging through his things until I find a roll of bandages coated in grime. I wrap my face up in them, covering everything but my organic eye, then I use some more to wrap my metal hand up. Sticking what's left of the bandage roll in my pocket, I feel confident now that I just look like a normal disfigured guy instead of some metallic freak. I brace myself with a sigh, before pushing the doors open and stepping out of the factory. There's nothing but the forest trail that took me here ahead, covered in more overgrowth than I remember but still somewhat the same. That's the way out of here. Where should I go from here? It's been... A while judging by the drunkard's corpse. I think of my family. Would they even still be alive? Would they even care if I was still alive? I need to know the answers to these questions. I need to go back home. I am going home. Nothing can stop me now.

Guess what?! :D on 5/7/2021 10:44:29 PM
Stupid dog.

Guess what?! :D on 5/7/2021 6:40:40 PM
Who even are you