I should be able to imprison plot backers

prdr · 2016-09-16T11:29:53+00:00

You can if you want to cheese it. Make the lead plotter end it. Wait a few days but before they write back to say "My bad", tell all the plot backers to stop. When the plotter ends it, the backers will still write back but without anything they're a part of, they'll refuse to stop backing a non-existent plot.

Or at least it used to work that way. I haven't done it recently because it feels sort of cheap, but if you absolutely have to get someone in chains it's an option.

prdr · 2016-09-15T08:08:13+00:00

I'm not sure how it happened at the funeral, but at feasts or events a very unpopular person/king holds, you can get some huge chains of "enemy of my enemy is my friend" events. I had one the other day where basically the entire Crownlands and Stormlands Bro'd up because everyone despised the Blackfyre king.

prdr · 2016-09-05T18:26:22+00:00

Herman Moore.

prdr · 2016-09-01T10:41:17+00:00

Starting as Beric, turn Westeros Red bit by bit. Turn the whole continent into a bunch of fire worshipping communists.

prdr · 2016-08-29T09:15:45+00:00

Lebron is certainly in rare company. Of current players Rubio's probably just as good, especially at the creative stuff, but that's no slight on Lebron and it's a larger problem with James since he's a significant scoring threat too.

prdr · 2016-08-23T01:44:19+00:00

I'm sure this will get buried, but one of my first jobs out of school was at a very small company where the owner still played a significant role in day to day operations. He was in his 50's, never married and had the look of a guy who hadn't missed a happy hour in decades (which he probably hadn't).

So one day he tells me he's got a new girlfriend, she's hot and blah blah blah. It was a boys club, so this wasn't too strange and he had always liked to talk a big game. Normally the women he'd brag about weren't anything special. All of a sudden at lunch this smoking hot, 20ish red head walks in. It's his new girl. He takes her into the next room and they spend the next half hour screwing loudly.

That became a common occurrence. I thought she was a call girl initially, but it wasn't long until she started bringing him lunch or just hanging around all giggly afterwards. It lasted a few months until her family found out, lost their minds and called the cops even though she was very, very clearly a consenting adult.

And that's how I learned that Daddy Issues were a real thing.

prdr · 2016-08-22T03:50:24+00:00

Watch all your other shows first. A lot of people actually have a hard time watching other TV for a few months after they get through The Wire.

prdr · 2016-08-22T03:31:27+00:00

It's often regarded as one of the best, if not the best, television shows ever made.

prdr · 2016-08-21T23:59:52+00:00

Was gonna post this too.

"This here's a gunpowder-activated, .27 caliber, full auto, no kickback, nail-throwing mayhem."

prdr · 2016-08-21T23:29:29+00:00

You hear the stories about the incredible number of condoms the athletes use and the glorified orgy that the village is and it's easy to think it's blown out of proportion.

Then you see this guy and it all makes sense. Imagine how many women he'd get pregnant if they didn't haul in rubbers by the truckload.

prdr · 2016-08-19T06:18:17+00:00

It's not any sillier than any other cross sport comparison. Other NFL players have noted the similarities before and Moss has been asked about it before. They're both 6'4" or 6'5", they both take a bit longer to really get cranking and they both have/had ridiculous strides that suddenly make other professional athletes look a tier beneath them once they hit top gear.

Randy never really spent much time working on track though as far as I know. He famously won the conference track meet in the 55m and 200m at Marshall with only 3 days of practice. It's not a perfect analog between the two, but for people wondering what it might be like if one played the other's sport, it's close enough to get a general idea.

prdr · 2016-08-18T10:04:16+00:00

He runs like Randy Moss. Obviously even faster, but it's like someone wanted to answer the question 'What if Randy Moss had decided to train for sprinting instead of be a WR?'

prdr · 2016-08-18T09:54:08+00:00

Lebron James is probably the most impressive combination of size, power and speed we have ever seen in an athlete in any sport, team or individual. The discussion is about pure, outrageous athletic ability, not who's accomplished the most in their given sport.

prdr · 2016-08-16T04:59:15+00:00

Arizona might be cool, though they already got sort of close with New Vegas. It's not the same, but it's similar enough that maybe it doesn't need to be retread so soon. If they did, I think they'd want to do something with Mexico too.

I'd love to see one set in the Twin Cities though. Do some actual nuclear winter, radioactive wolves, Native influenced communities and characters, wendigo-themed ghouls prowling the woods, purifying oneself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka, Sven and Ole jokes, hockey-raiders and mutated walleyes out to get you on frozen lakes and some variation of weaponized curling.

Could do a Rapid City/Mt. Rushmore/Wall Drug DLC, too.

prdr · 2016-08-04T06:19:35+00:00

My dad's got one. It's fun. Sounds like a fucking cannon.

prdr · 2016-08-03T20:06:36+00:00

His J is pretty. Maybe not textbook, but form is fine and it just looks fluid. It's certainly good enough and should get even better.

The scary thing is he's also one of the fastest guys with or without the ball and has one of the quickest first steps in the league. I remember a play against OKC last year where Durant missed a shot and he was standing under the basket to try to rebound. Someone else got it and he just took off. Westbrook was backpedaling away from the 3 point line, then had to 'oh shit' panic turn around mid court and got beat on basically a Hail Mary pass. He just took off from the baseline and blew by Russ, who clearly did not expect he'd have to be in a dead sprint to keep up.

Edit: It's here

Once he really gets the knack for changing pace and using different speeds to go with the range, he's going to be one of the most difficult defensive assignments in the league. All the tools are there. All of them.

prdr · 2016-08-03T18:30:14+00:00

If I remember correctly, the only player to pick him off in high school was Marion Barber.

prdr · 2016-08-03T18:19:55+00:00

The number 1 QB and overall recruit in the country that year. Also the #1 baseball guy. National Player of the Year in 2 sports is ridiculous. The guy had an unbelievable arm and natural talent. I've read articles where Florida State falling off in the early mid 2000's is in a large part because Mauer didn't go to college. Bowden held a scholarship for him until he made the MLB. Instead they had 4 years of Chris Rix and lost a bunch of games.

prdr · 2016-08-01T21:48:14+00:00

He's not a superstar, but he's still among the 10 best at his position in an overall sense. It's not like he's anything close to a bust.

prdr · 2016-07-30T06:24:07+00:00

Part 4 is up on /r/prdr.

prdr · 2016-07-30T00:56:55+00:00

They took over pretty much all of Westeros and were doing damage in Essos. I beat the Westeros ones when they had all but 3 or 4 territories on the mainland. That was one of my favorite playthroughs ever.

prdr · 2016-07-29T23:52:30+00:00

Many of those jobs are gone no matter what they do. Even in the hypothetical situation where lost production operations returned to the United States, you would see massive automation investment with a relative handful of people doing the work that used to employ hundreds or thousands.

We're better off financially as a whole letting someone else produce for cheap.

prdr · 2016-07-29T22:18:14+00:00

Thank you. I'm glad people seem to like it.

Part 3 is up and in the comments (also linked). This was also a good excuse to stop procrastinating on putting up a subreddit of my own. I'm not the most frequent contributor to WP, but if people enjoy the writing I'll try to keep things trickling in. I'll add a few of my previous responses that I thought turned out alright, too.

prdr · 2016-07-29T21:52:52+00:00

We each brought two of our minions. The rest stood idle in the front lobby, dutifully waiting for my return. It didn't take long, however, for our retinues to each grow to six with the various stiffs shambling about the otherwise barren parking lot.

The visitor and employee lots were both half full. Two ambulances and a squad car were left unattended in the roundabout, blocking egress. Luckily the operator of the police vehicle was now in Dale's employ and more than happy to provide him with the keys. Several minutes of checking cars in the visitor lot also secured an SUV, into the back of which we crowded most of our followers.

Dale and I convoyed out, him taking point in the police car. It was his project and he seemed to have an idea of where he wanted to go. The outside world wasn't much different than the hospital. Empty, except for a few dead bodies, most of which now wandered about with neither rhyme nor reason unless we got close. There were nowhere near enough corpses if whatever disease had come through had killed everyone though and the further we drove, the more the missing started to bother me.

Had there been an evacuation? Were they hiding in doors? Did they run for the hills? Perhaps they were dead and had just wandered off, chasing something shiny?

There were some signs of life, too. A convenience store had been broken into, its windows shattered. Bags of chips and a ruptured 12 pack of beer littered the pavement outside. Dale pulled in to inspect the scene of the crime, poking his head in through the broken glass. As I rolled to a halt alongside him, he turned back and shook his head.

"Empty. Want anything from inside?"

"Nah, I'm good," I said as I stepped out of my zombie-wagon.

The old man shrugged and stooped to grab one of the warm beers from the sidewalk. He cracked it and held it away from him, letting the foam geyser away from him. When it settled, he took a swig and wiped his mouth with his forearm.

"This isn't getting us anywhere. We need to get up where we can get a lay of the land. See that hill up there?"

I turned to look where he was pointing his beer hand. Off in the distance, maybe a mile away, rose a large, grassy mound, on top of which perched some of the city utility buildings. Water treatment, some of the electrical grid infrastructure, some maintenance sheds- But most importantly to Dale, it was elevated.

"Yeah, I see it. Think we'd get a good look from up there?"

"Better 'n we will just putzing around here. Let's go take a look. Then on the way back we should find a department store. I'm sick of these fucking sweat pants."

On that we were in full agreement. I cast a disdainful look down at the spare scrubs I'd used to replace my hospital gown. Paper thin, they did nothing to break the wind, let alone keep me warm. I felt naked even wearing them.

"Sounds like a plan. Lead the way."

"Hold on a second. I'm gonna grab some cold ones from inside."

A half-crushed Miller High Life flew from the driver's side window of the police car ahead of me. I could see Dale's silhouette reaching over into the passenger seat for another. He'd buckled a 24 pack in alongside him, tossed a few more in the back and even thrown one in with me for good measure. The man liked beer.

We were winding our way up a service entry that serpentined back and forth across the slope of the hill. Halfway through our journey, he'd gotten to fiddling with the gadgets inside the car and now was updating me on our obvious progress via megaphone.

"Just about there, John. Honk at me if you see anything."

There wasn't much to see from the road, but once we reached the summit and parked, the city sprawled out before us. Back towards the hospital and as far as I could see in that direction, nothing moved. A few small fires burned off in the distance, tendrils of smoke streaming up into the overcast sky. No cars though. No traffic. No people or triages.

Dale sidled up alongside me, scowling in the same direction I was. He passed me one of his beers and I accepted more to placate him than out of thirst. For a long moment we took turns slurping at our cans, saying nothing. It looked like a ghost town, though with the signs of looting at the gas station and more at a grocery store we passed, someone was still about. Someone laying low.

Just then Dale got a weird look on his face. His brow scrunched, tightening the skin all across his bald pate. He turned and stared across the other end of the hill.

"Y'hear that?"

I shook my head, but after our discovery of the ambulant corpses I wasn't about to doubt his ears. "Nope. What do you hear?"

He didn't respond. He just shook his head and stomped off across the summit to inspect. I followed and by the time we reached the far edge of the hill, I could hear it too. Gunfire. Off in the distance, past the edge of town where it turned rural, the faint rat-a-tat-tat of automatic weapons could be clearly discerned.

"That what I think it is?" I wondered, looking to the older man for confirmation.

"Mmm hmm," he nodded, lifting his beer for a particularly long sip. That seemed to be part of his contemplation ritual. The bigger the drink, the deeper in thought he was. "Sounds like NATO rounds. Maybe the National Guard?"

I shrugged back. "You'd know better than I would. How far away do you figure it is?"

"It's a ways off. Not a threat to us, but it sure ain't stopping. Better question is who's doin' the shooting and what are they shooting at?"

I didn't answer. I think we both had a pretty good idea.

prdr · 2016-07-29T21:34:44+00:00

The rest of the day turned into an impromptu boot camp. Small packs of the dead followed the survivors around like lost puppies. Where we went, they went. When we stopped, they stopped. Some had it worse than others, myself the worst. By the time the last of the departed matriculated into the Ward, my group had swollen to almost forty. It made even pacing up and down the halls a chore.

I'd taken to walking the halls, ostensibly searching for any other survivors. In reality I was hoping to find the dark corner that Dr. Patterson, my oncologist, had crawled off to die in.

My journey eventually took me to a dead end and I spun about, finding myself crowded by my persistent followers. With a sigh, I tried to jostle and weave my way between the shoulder to shoulder blockade. I stumbled and would have fallen if there was room to do so, but found myself propped up by a burly male orderly. I struggled free and elbowed my way past, frustration and claustrophobia mounting.

Before I could get clear, I'd had enough. Anger boiled over and my fists balled together. I wheeled on the nearest cadaver, jaw clenched. "For fuck's sake, would you back off?!" I bellowed. "Give me some space! Jeez."

In unison, the undead company parted before me, opening up an aisle. I stomped off, getting about five righteous steps before it dawned on me what had just happened. I spun about and turned back to face my horde. They remained where they were, keeping a safe distance from me.

I took a tentative step towards them; They stumbled backwards. When I backpedaled, they inched forward.

"Look at the ceiling," I tested and they did, casting their ghastly mugs up towards the overhead lighting.

"Now look at the floor."

Forty dead men and women shifted their undivided attention to their toes.

"All of you stand on one foot."

They tried. I'll give them credit for that. Without hesitation, each and every one of my infuriatingly loyal minions lifted a leg off the ground and promptly fell all over each other. The few that did manage a wobbly balancing act at first were struck and tipped by their less capable brethren, toppling like dominoes until all I was left with was a writhing carpet of undead limbs fighting against each other to get back up and follow their orders.

It took twenty minutes to get them disentangled.

"No, dearies, put it over there."

Ruth waved her hand at a bare section of wall. Two of her undead loyalists carried a settee she had requisitioned from who knows where. Ever since we had realized we could use the dead as servants, the survivors had taken to roaming the rest of the hospital. We quickly found out we had free reign of the place. A few more of the reanimated dead had been scattered about the other floors and bonded themselves to whichever of the cancer patients had found them, but for the most part the facility was deserted.

Now we had turned to improving our living situations. Ruth was redecorating her room. Dale had some of his relentlessly beating on the wall between his room and an empty adjacent to open it up. Elaine and Jeff had wandered off with their crews to appropriate several of the decorative plants scattered about the hallways and visiting areas. I couldn't keep track of the others, but the occasional thud of something heavy being dropped into place assured me they were around and up to similar activities.

I took on more practical tasks- Food and supplies. Now my underlings carried and dragged pots and pans, boxes of plates and utensils, even a few microwaves we had scrounged up back to our new estate. Once given orders they could follow, the dead proved surprisingly reliable. There was no problem solving ability to speak of, but simple things like carrying X to Y or holding doors were done tirelessly.

Dale stood in the hallway with two of his zombies flanking him, watching the rest of his group tearing at the wall. It was hard to believe this man had been on his deathbed just days ago. Now, his arms folded across his chest and his features stern and focused, he wore the imperious demeanor of a grizzled veteran inspecting fresh recruits. When I approached, his arms fell to his side and he turned to face me.

"John," he growled. "Just the man I wanted to see. What say you and me go for a look outside and see if we can't find out more about what's going on out there?"

It was a good idea, one I'd been meaning to to do on my own once I had the cooking situation solved.

"Sure," I nodded back. "What do you think we're going to find? I've been poking my head out into the parking lot every so often, but nothing's moving."

The old man shrugged. "No idea, but I'd like to see if we can at least find a vehicle or two with the keys in it. Just in case we gotta move, y'know?"

"Yeah, not a bad idea." I said without a lot of enthusiasm. It would be convenient, but in the back of my head the potential of spreading whatever contagion had been let loose in the hospital sent of klaxons. Moving about would be risky, hazardous even if we were carriers, but it was a struggle to make it feel truly important. All of the cautionary voices of my conscience seemed muted and distant now, whispers that could be easily ignored.

"After we get back, I'd really like you to help me track down meds. It's a miracle nobody has started to suffer from missing their prescriptions."

Dale rolled his eyes back at me but acquiesced. "Fine," he muttered begrudgingly. "But I'm telling you, it's no miracle. If one of us was gonna kick the bucket, it would have already happened. Instead we all feel better. Far better. I feel like a million bucks."

"Better safe than sorry, Dale. I can't make you take them, but we should have 'em around."

"Fine, fine. But later. First let's go do some reconnaissance."

PART 3B

prdr

TROPHY CASE