Im_CIA

Can you photoshop SMGs into his hands and a blue tint?

7 Hand-held TVs inside chip bags / 10

You leave the two drooling gentle-sirs on the ground, writhing in pain, as you take your first steps down the shady staircase. At first glance the wood appears to be newly furbished, but every step buckles and creaks below you as you descend. So either you're a fatter hippo than your realized, or the contractors went dumpster-diving behind taekwondo mcdojos at the strip-mall for materials. You find the second explanation easier to stomach, much like the five crispy-creame donuts you guzzled down for brunch before coming to... wherever *here* is. Finally, the plain concrete wall to your left ends and you're able to see the source of the light (a small, naked incandescent bulb fixed to the ceiling) , along with most of the room which it inhabits. It's an unfinished space with walls for cinder blocks and no discernible windows. Right smack-dab in middle, below the overhanging light, sits a green hexagonal table flanked by a set of six bar stools, one of which contains the sleeping posture of a very peculiar looking individual. You're not sure if he's breathing. The wall directly in front of you has a large CRT TV masquerading as modern LCD; it's overlooking the table, and the light barely grazes the thin coat of dust over its protruding gray screen. The only other interesting landmark is a mahogany wardrobe sitting in the corner directly to your left. You can't really make out the details in the dark, but there to be black leather jacket hanging over its door, and a sulking rolled-up rug leaning on its right side. Actions: 1. Approach the sleeping/dead man. 2. Look for another light switch. 3. Checkout the TV.

Oh no. We're too late. These people have already been infected! They may look fine now, but it's only a matter of time before they turn into the undead!

City is breaking down on a camel's back

/* Alright, revival time */ >Seductively kiss the man in the white coat. The man bursts into a smile, which quickly fades into a grimace. "Follow me" he says, grabbing your arm as he goes. He leads you to the facility indoor laundromat. About half the machines are running, and an old man of a middle-eastern persuasion is solving a cross-word puzzle behind an impromptu counter located near the entrance. The man leading you gives the laundry curator a nod, who then gets up and walks past the dryers and towards the back of the establishment. You follow him. The laundry man stops at a blue metallic door. He strokes his gray mustache with his left hand, while his right fumbles around his pocket, looking for a key. Finally discovering it, he guides into the key-hole and you hear a sharp *click*. The door opens, revealing a dimly lit passage into the basement, and the man gestures for you to go inside. You have freedom of movement now, but your only path of escape is cut off. The only way is down. Choices: Go down into the basement

Yeah, after watching this go on for a few weeks, I think you're right. Or maybe *they* finally got to me.

I stopped right around Cataclysm. Was more of a Warcraft III kind of guy. TPBM isn't Zaraki

I think you got the wrong thread there data. Also Mammoth Tank Assembled

No I just came back from work. Now you can narrow me down to within 3 timezones , assuming i dont work at night TPBM is a male

*Looks at noose* Not today. Still exist. TPBM likes Phillip K Dick

Marty

My name is Cuban Pete, and I'm the King of the ramba beat

Hmm, but do you remember how much coverage the Arab Spring received? That wasn't domestic. Maybe this is the onset of paranoid schizophrenia, but I believe that globalization has laid the groundwork for consolidated narratives , which can sweep away all other dissenting voices, to form organically.

>Get in the FUCKIN' robot SHINJI Also the Milky Way. Proof: We clearly see the devil in the Mos Eisley cantina, ergo a galaxy far far away is actually hell.

A bottle of <redacted>

A bottle of Red

Beep to the tune of Cuban Pete and head West

Stroll East while gyrating from side to side and "wooing" like a drunken sorority ho'.

Seduce Judge Dredd

I find it interesting that, at least in my experience, most of the coverage for the riots happening in France is dead in water. So much more weight is being on Trump's latest buffoonery that you'd have to scroll to page 3 for news about the situation in Paris, but if this was a colored revolution in a vilified country on the other side of the (figurative) world it will splattered across every headline. We're living in the information age. What does that mean, really? Can the flow of history be shaped by gag orders and rhetoric?

Take my pants off and singe them at the crotch level using the laser. I always wanted to wear a skirt.

@Psychotic NinjaThat's what he wants you to do. Obviously there's a hidden agenda here; you can't let him win

Far above the moon

Planet Earth is blue