We join our young protagonist, a nervous, sheltered 19 year old. Constantly fearful of impending doom, he is always at the ready to cower underneath whatever looks stable enough to withstand earthquakes. Which is close to nothing. This doesn't really help to make him any less scared. I suppose you'll prefer that this character wants a name? That's fine. Just write it there in the series of underscores I have provided.
Thomas, eh? I suppose that's a pretty good name. It'll have to do. Not that it ever really mattered, you humans lives are too short to go around being concerned about names, you could all be named Zog for all I care and it would make but a negligable difference in the unfolding of time. But that's all beside the point. His name is Thomas, whether it was you who put that in or not, at the end of the day (or time, if you prefer) it will still be Thomas, no matter what silly thing you decided to imput (see "Zoosmell Pooplord").
Now getting back to the real point, the story that is, we have already met and named our young protagonist, now we must determine what he looks like. Hmm, this is the part where [italics] I [italics] get to make a decision! We shall say that he is dressed and ready to go to work, shirt half tucked in, for some kind of pointless symbolism saying that he is a bit of a slob, not that he's some reckless roughneck ruffian bent on being the best. Oh no, "Thomas" just wants to make through to the end of the day. He shall also wear a pair of cracked glasses, to symbolize an element of clumsiness, because, you know, stereotypes and what not. As long as he's going to be a general embarassment to the human race, he may as well look like it. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate him. I just don't care for him. That combined with a cruel, spiteful demeanor towards the universe, I shall continue to put my own masochistic misery onto him, for your enjoyment and mine.
Great, now that we've got all that out of the way, I think it's time that we ACTUALLY get on to the story. For reals, yo.
Today, April 13th, is the day that will inevitably be the most important of your actually, quite important life. Today is also the day of your 19th birthday. Today you have been given a very important task, a mission, if you will. Your father has given you a job, a literal job. Not some kind of shady command to assassinate an innocent target. No, your father has given you a job at his very prestigous job, as you father is a very prestigious, mysterious man. He always distanced himself from you, even when he raised you. Hearing from him again came as a bit of a shock. It was a very short, very simple call. His only order was to come to his company, well, rather, a branch of his company, Inver-tech.
Inver-tech is known only as ambiguous, on it's homepage, there is a simple logo.( http://tinyurl.com/7qanw37 )
Not much is known about this logo, nor it's meaning. But one thing is for sure, it's ambiguous alright!
Now we must finally set off, you might want to bring your CAR KEYS if you're going to be going out, which you will be. You don't pick it up, picking things up is for the weak (or is it strong?), instead you CAPTCHALOGUE it. Putting it into your FETCH MODUS, which works on a STACK MODUS, meaning that if you put ITEM A in, and it's maximum is reached, ITEM Z is kicked out to make room. OK, maybe more like, jetisoned across the room. It can be quite dangerous sometimes. Only those with wisdom can wield a modus as predictably unpredictable as this. You are not one of those people.
You pick up- I mean CAPTCHALOGUE the CAR KEYS and take your INHALER in case things get too hot to handle, which, because you aren't all that levelheaded, is all the time. You put it into your STRIFE SPECIBUS, which is basically like a freeby card, a freeby card that can never be changed or removed. It fits perfectly in with the SPRAYABLE KIND specibi. You can use this and other spraying objects later in case you get into a sticky situation.
As you begin to make your way out of the door, you see a mailtruck drive hurriedly away from your ungroomed lawn, you see the little red mail arm thingy pointing upward into the air as if to tell you that there is new mail, in fact, this is exactly what it is telling you. You run almost as fast as the mailtruck did from your VERY humble abode did to your mailbox, the new Gamebro should have come by now bringing news of a game you have been very excited about, and had spent some of your not-so-disposable income on, it kind of irritates you that you have a better chance of getting your Gamebro late than getting your copy of the game, Sburb, on time.
Checking the mail, you see a copy of Gamebro, talking about the game that you have been fantasizing about for months. You finger through the review, if you can even call it that. This is just about the least helpful thing that you can possibly find to date. ( http://i.imgur.com/pqajS.jpg)
Setting all that aside, you should probably get into your car, which is likely the best car in the world, Bill Nye's Grass Mobile. This car is a step up from solar powered, it's photosynthetic! In about 10 years or so, this thing should be the size of a Hummer! But of course, that is ridiculous, to assume that your car is a biological lifeform is absolutely silly. But still, you don't remember it having back seats when you first got it. Suspicious.
You get into your undeniably cool car, checking to make sure everything works, brake checks, gas checks, horn checks (hehe). Everything works, just like it did yesterday, and the day before that and everyday before that. After all, safety first right?
Driving out of your driveway, as slowly as possible, you set off to your destination, watchful of other neighboring cars, making very good use of your NOVELTY HORN to let others know how annoyed you are at them/how at heart you're the kind of guy who enjoys a good laugh. They however DON'T FIND THIS VERY AMUSING AT ALL. They don't matter, no one matters but you and your friends and family. Everyone else is unimportant. The world could end for all you care so long as you have your friends, family, and all of them connected through Sburb. Not that that could ever really happen. Though this life of yours does feel a bit... out of place. The only thing you can really remember your father teaching you is how to build. Which seems silly and all, but your father assured you it was for the best intentions. You just shrugged it off and built, it's the most calming feeling in the world for you, building. You could do it for hours and hours and hours. OHCRAPYOUALMOSTHITTHATCROSSINGGUARD.
Ok. It think it's about time to start paying some attention to the road. Man, how much farther is this place, all these winding roads, this is useless. Someone should have just made a bypass. Oh, look. There it is, a block behind you. You passed it, stupid. Turn around.
Ahh, there it is, Inver-tech Inc. The most obnoxiously tall, out of place skyscraper you could ever place near a suburban landscape. You make your way toward it, parking your car and locking it six times just in case.
The sliding doors gently open and close on you, almost catching the tail of your untucked shirt. A perky receptionist smiles and sips her coffee, inviting you over and asking you to tell her where you need to be. She has brown hair, a small nose, just a bit too much mascara and a FASHIONABLE BLACK DRESS AND HAIRBAND COMBO. She says her name is Lesly, but you can call her Liz for short.
You call her Liz, for short, and tell her that you need to see your father, or whoever it is who runs this establishment. You then tell her your name, saying she can call you "Tom" for short, sharing a hollow laugh. Oh wait, that was just you, she seems pretty unimpressed by this. Or maybe that's ust the face she make when she's looking through appointments. You sheepishly assume that she's just looking through appointments.
After a few long, uncomfortable moments, her eyes become so wide that they nearly fall out, and she exclaims that you need to get there right now, and that there is no time to lose. She hands you a SUPERELEVATOR PASS for access to the SuperElevator, you suppose this is helpful. Though any elevator will do.
Feeling a bit more willing than usual, and seeing as today has been described by reliable resources as "a very important day", you come to the conclusion that a SuperElevator is the best choice of all. Whatever that is. You take out your SUPERELEVATOR PASS and present it to the SUPERELEVATOR PASS RECEPTICLE which whirs and clicks as if to process RECEPTIFICATED INFORMATION. The doors excitedly slide open and welcome you in. You step in.
The doors immediately shut, the room dims to a fluorescent glow, the doors become a TOUCHPANEL with the AMBIGUOUS LOGO on it. Soon the logo disappears and a number of numbers comes up. You resist the urge to press all of the buttons at once. Knowing your father, he probably put the main office at the top floor. He said he would be here today. Today will be the self declared "most eventful meeting to date". Knowing your old man, this should be taken very seriously. As he is, a very serious man. You hit the highest number you can hit on there, which happens to be 99, which also happens to be the max amount of things you can usually carry in a videogame, these are meaningless things that you spend hours honing your skills on, but if the right game strikes your fancy, you might relentlessly pester your friends to get it.
The SuperElevator makes an affirmatory chirp and immediately shuts out all light and gears noisily start up. Then, you are immediately blasted into the air at an indeterminable speed, all that can be determined about it is that it is terrifyingly fast. You are immeasurably glad that you didn't hit all of the buttons, you get the feeling that you don't want awful nausea on a day as supposedly important as this one is supposed to be.
After what seems like minutes you finally begin to grow accustomed to the immense speed. After what seems like seconds of being comfortable the elevator stop so fast that it creates something like an antigravity effect. However, the effect is nigh instantaneous and you don't even notice it.
Stepping out of the elevator, you see oceans of cubicles, all of which filled with faceless workers, completely plain in every way imaginable.
You begin to walk by them, completely flabbergasted and yet entirely unnoticed. Or maybe they just don't really care about you. They have work to do. That's about all they will ever have to do. In fact, as you look around, you don't see any other exits other than the SuperElevator, which you need a pass to get into.
Upon further inspection, you see the boss's office, however, this wasn't very hard, as it was giant, looming up unthinkable heights. You take a deep breath and begin to walk forward toward this very frightening tower of an office. Upon looking at the ceiling in reference to the office tower, you see that there is no ceiling to be found, only blackness, blackness and faint lights you make out to be stars. You suddenly feel a sense of depressing proportion. You take another deep breath, exhale that one, and take another for good measure. It's going to be a very long day.
Growing rather tired of just walking you take up a jog, which quickly has you taking up even more deep breaths, which you are now taking out of tiredness. Soon afterward you immediately find it very hard to breath. This doesn't frighten you, as you have experienced this many times before, you simply take out your inhaler and make use of it. Nothing more to it. After you're done using it, it immediately poofs back into your STRIFE SPECIBUS, as you are no longer STRIVING.
After clearing your throat and singing a bar of notes for a bit of stupid humor, you begin making your way over to the office again, much closer to the destination than before.
After about a half hour of walking, you finally make it to this tower office and knock on the door with the menacing gargoyle knockers, the doors also slide open, completely ignoring the knockers, which seem to just phase through the wall. You find this intriguing.
Walking in, you find a receptionist that looks exactly like the receptionist at the lobby, but with blonde hair, a slightly smaller nose and a FASHIONABLE WHITE DRESS AND HAIRBAND COMBO. She looks up at you from her transparent computer, of which you assume is very expensive, and waves you on in to the office without a word or facial expression, and returns to typing.
You walk in the office, awestruck by the intense decoration choices of the astronomical persuasion. Things like WILD PLANETS, SCIENCE FICTION NOVELS and ROCKET BLUEPRINTS stapled to the wall that seemed so complex you could mistake them for a legitimate plan. Of course, these are just tasteful wall posters, and should be regarded only as such.
What you see at the desk is also tasteful, as is the man at the desk, who is still unaware of your presence. The man wears a spotless white suit, and seems preoccupied with some frivolous distraction that likely is costing a lot of business time and money. Because time is equivalent to money. This has been proven, and unlike most scientific and mathematical theories, cannot be revised or even questioned. It just can't.
Standing next to the desk is a large, shadowy figure you make out to be your father, he's a very large, threatening looking person, much unlike yourself. He grunts to let the man at the desk know you're here, and beckons you to come. He's not necessarily a bad guy. He's just physically misleading, on the inside, lay an architect's mind and heroic heart. Though his voice may be low, it is heart warming and inviting. You walk cheerily to an open chair. The man in the desk smiles at you and simply says, "Hi", and goes back to his distraction.
You try and get his attention, but he remains unswayed. Your father sighs and then reaches towards the man in the desk's back and flips his finger downward and he slumps in his chair, showing his large, grinning face. It's a bit unnerving.
Dad: Hello, son.
Tom: Hello, dad.
D: Let's not waste time here. Do you have any idea why I brought you here?
T: Not a clue.
D: *sigh* I had a feeling it would be this way. Think back to when I was raising you. How I taught you to build structures that could hold infinite amounts of weight? To make skyscrapers that could reach to the heavens and then some?
T: How could I forget?! All those fun times between you and me, I, the student, you the teacher, teaching me the principles of-
D: Son, let's not get carried away here.
D: Uh.. Just don't let it happen again? Listen, do you have any idea why I taught you all that?
T: Not really. Eheh. It kind of seemed important to you, but me, I was just enjoying it all!
D: Son, there's a very important reason that I taught you all this, it will all become clear to you, trust me.
T: That's not very explaining, dad.
D: Sorry, it's just, I think it's for the best that I make this very confusing for you. But your building skills, have you been practicing?
T: Hehehe, actually, uh... there's this game coming out, called Sburb, where the whole point is to build, I was going to play it with all my friends!
D: Sburb? Huh, that sounds pretty familiar. Tell me, do you HAVE this game yet?
T: Uh, no, actually. You see, it was supposed to come in the mail, but I never ended up getting it.
D: Son, there is something I must tell you, but I shouldn't. Not right now, at least.
T: Oh. That's actually very confusing. In fact, it's downright contradicting.
D: There's no real orthodox way to go about this, so, I'll just go ahead and do this, whether or not I get in trouble for this is not my problem right now. But take this.
--Thomas got SBURB BETA SERVER/CLIENT COPY--
T: Holy hell! How did you get this?!
D: Like I said, this is completely unauthorized. I could really pay for all of this. Big time. Just take this computer with you and play it, as soon as you can. It is imperative that you play it!
--Thomas got HIGH-END TRANSPARENT LAPTOP--
T: Wow! How did you afford this? Oh, wait. Nevermind.
D: That already has Sburb installed on it. Don't ask. Just play. Your life, mine, and all your friends depends on it. I have to go now. But promise me, you'll keep a level head? Oh, and, you may need this. Something tells me you went and put something stupid in your strife specibus. It just seems like something you would do.
--Thomas got a STRIFE SPECIBUS CARD--
D: Please, promise me you'll put a weapon in there? Please?!
T: OK! OK! I don't see why you're getting on my case on this, but you said that just about everything that's important to me rests in my hands? That's pretty intense. Anyway, I love you dad. I guess I have to save the world now or something? Hah!
D: Yes. I love you too, son. Good luck, and the next time you see me, you won't want to see me. Try not to think about that and just do your job, ok?
T: Yes, dad.
--Dad opened a secret access SuperElevator and ascended at blinding speed--
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