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About Pinball

  • Birthday 03/22/2002

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  1. Pinball

    [PP-F9] Through Fire

    Embers rose and fell with the ringing tune, each note brimming with its own sense of impending finality. Pinball's feet would glide across cracked and scorched earth, the blistering hot nature of the cavern gradually fading with the destruction of the hellhounds. The creature radiated heat, hot blasts of air damaging him unless he landed careful blows, liquid fire dribbling from the corners of its jagged and twisted maws. But the fight was finally coming to a close, and Pinball couldn't help but sweat despite the skill that protected him from just that. A cyclone of ice and color swirled around the end of his spear as Pinball thrust it forward, absolutely shredding through the base of the final head's throat, nearly separating its neck from its torso in a cataclysmic impact. Pinball's form flickered as he hit the ground, whirled around to face him, reeling backwards and preparing for what would more than likely be the final blow. Action Taken: Sword Art - [Dimension Stampede] [-14 EN/+1 EN] // {+62 HP} Cerberus Head 3: ID#168549 BD: 9 (Crit+1) MD: 3 (Miss) ~ 23+1= 24*15= 360-36= 324 DMG [H: 0] Arabelle: 425/560 HP | 43/56 EN | 14 DMG | 46 MIT | 3 Probiotics | 5 ACC | 2 EVA | Fallen | 2 Recovery | Regen [H: 6] Pinball: 1125/1240 HP | 61/124 EN | 23 DMG | 5 ACC | 6 EVA | 62 BH | 8-10/36 FRZ | Phase | 3 Probiotics «Cerberus, Inferno's Rage» Head 3: 176/500 HP | 175 DMG | 75 MIT | 2 ACC | 30 Thorns Abilities: << Bringing Hell >> : "Cerberus, Inferno's Rage" gains 1 attack for each head alive. << One at a Time >> : Players can only target one Head at a time before hitting another. AoE's do not work on this boss. << Burning Bite >> : On successful attacks, the player is inflicted with "Burn" dealing 36 unmitigatable damage for 2 turns. << Infernal Punishment >> : On a critical attacks, this boss gains additional damage and will phase through 50% of the target's mitigation on all attacks this turn. [9 = 25 | 10 = 75] << Bloodless >> : This boss is immune to all status effects.
  2. Pinball

    F01/PP Knight Takes Bishop

    Anger. They took offense to his presence, and honestly, Pinball would too. But why were they here? To kill him? It didn't seem the case, with how Oscar held his hand out to stop a particular snowy-haired swordsman from gauging his throat out. Honestly, it was Pinball's own curiosity that kept him here, silent, unmoving, watching. All he could really do was hope that halfway through their lecture, the two didn't end up changing their minds. Pinball was so transfixed on those morbid ideas that it wasn't until Oscar went out of his way to point them out that he realized they were with someone. The man's face was unfamiliar to Pinball, and he couldn't help but notice that he seemed exponentially more nervous about this whole encounter than either of his two escorts. It was shady, and the whole situation was met with a quizzical glance between them. They wanted him to babysit-? And if the man tried to send a message or to get away, they expected Pinball to... kill him. There really wasn't any reason for him to object. He shouldn't. He couldn't, really, all things considered. But there was something about the whole thing that didn't quite sit well with him. And it wasn't just the threat on his life - those things didn't even faze him anymore. It was something else. A distinct flavor in the air he couldn't place. Whatever it was, Pinball was sure that he wouldn't be killing anyone today. The very thought of it made his face twist up. "Okay," he started slowly. His voice was rough. Pinball took a second to pause and swallow before he continued, more firmly now. "That's fine. But why? What did they do?"
  3. Pinball

    [PP-F9] Through Fire

    Quickly, one head after another, Cerberus would inevitably fall. They hit hard, but Pinball hit harder, and their snapping jaws weren't quick enough to keep up with the nimble unarmored striker. He danced around attack again and again, a fiery death just barely passing him by each time, and then retorted with a quick and furious onslaught of stabs and slashes. Embers and shadow flew, alit by vibrant purple light and the golden-red glow of the lava all around them. Pinball grit his teeth. For a second it felt like he was suspended in midair, painfully open to a counterattack, but in the blink of an eye his sword art had finished, leaving him plummetting to the ground through an explosion of polygonal blue shards. With a huff, the young man righted himself and regarded his final target. Only the one head was left, and there was by no means any indication that the fight would grow any more difficult than it had already been. Just a bit longer now. Action Taken: Sword Art - [Dimension Stampede] [-14 EN/+1 EN] // {+62 HP} Cerberus Head 2: ID#155755 BD: 8 (Hit) MD: 1 (Miss) ~ 23*15= 345-75= 270 DMG // 30 THORNS Cerberus Head 3: ID#155756 MD: 5 (Miss) [H: 0] Arabelle: 455/560 HP | 42/56 EN | 14 DMG | 46 MIT | 3 Probiotics | 5 ACC | 2 EVA | Fallen | 2 Recovery | Regen [H: 4] Pinball: 1063/1240 HP | 74/124 EN | 23 DMG | 5 ACC | 6 EVA | 62 BH | 8-10/36 FRZ | Phase | 3 Probiotics «Cerberus, Inferno's Rage» Head 2: 0/500 HP | 175 DMG | 75 MIT | 1 ACC | 30 Thorns Head 3: 500/500 HP | 175 DMG | 75 MIT | 3 ACC | 2 EVA | 30 Thorns Abilities: << Bringing Hell >> : "Cerberus, Inferno's Rage" gains 1 attack for each head alive. << One at a Time >> : Players can only target one Head at a time before hitting another. AoE's do not work on this boss. << Burning Bite >> : On successful attacks, the player is inflicted with "Burn" dealing 36 unmitigatable damage for 2 turns. << Infernal Punishment >> : On a critical attacks, this boss gains additional damage and will phase through 50% of the target's mitigation on all attacks this turn. [9 = 25 | 10 = 75]  << Bloodless >> : This boss is immune to all status effects. Updated Battle-Ready Inventory
  4. Pinball

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    "F-face?" He hadn't actually realized he'd been making any face, but when she pointed it out, there he felt it. The remnants of a smile, maybe? Pinball clenched his teeth, rubbing his hand along his chin, as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. Really though, he couldn't. How long had he been doing that for? Too long, probably, all things considered. Since when had he been so expressive? "Yeah," he blushed, glancing over his shoulder and hoping beyond hope she didn't feel the sudden urge to look in his direction. "A little, I guess." It wasn't the game he'd been watching. While Pinball desperately tried to claw himself out of the pit he'd fallen into, Mishiro had already taken her next shot. A miss, again, Pinball realized with a frown. Seeing it made him sad, for some reason. It was the subtle changes in her expression that hurt the most. He adjusted himself, then nodded in agreement. "Right. Just a couple more should do it." Or not. He'd figured the odds of her failing as often as she did would gradually diminish the more times she tried it. The results of that theory left a few possibilities up in the air: either Pinball was bad at math, or Mishiro was just super unlucky today. Maybe the game was rigged? Or there was something she was doing wrong -- she was barely missing her throws, but barely was still enough to keep her from her stuffed prize. "Mm." Indecisiveness crawled up his skin. On one hand, he wanted to offer, but on the other-? Something was making him feel like he shouldn't. Only a moment passed as that internal conflict raged, but it felt like those few beats of silence had somehow stretched themselves out for an eternity. Finally, though, he came to a conclusion. Screw it. Right? "Wanna, uh, maybe let me give it a try?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he got chills, like he'd somehow messed up and said something horrible. But surely that wasn't the case. Assuming she gave him the go-ahead, however reluctantly it may or may not have been, Pinball would move forward and buy himself a toss. If not, then Pinball would still be more than happy to hang back and watch for a bit longer. But the crowd was beginning to thin out, and he had the rising suspicion that they were probably running out of time. With the push of a button, his col decreased and a ring materialized itself in his hand. It was a bit on the heavy side, just enough so to make it hard to gauge how hard or how softly you had to toss the damn thing. Upon closer reflection, Pinball realized that the pins were probably set up in a way to lower the chance of a win as well. And for what, exactly-? To emulate reality? It wasn't like their digital currency had any real value to anyone but themselves, and there was no way the plushes came equipped with any sort of special perks or effects, considering how low the price of a single play was. It was a bit frustrating, and it was a little easier to understand why Mishiro had been having a tough time with it. Speaking of. "Try not to get your hopes up," he said warily, spinning the ring on his finger. In a way, it sort of reminded him of his old days. He'd used to play with daggers like this, toying around with it not as a weapon but as a way to show off a practiced, non-assisted dexterity using the game's physics. Of course, there were big differences. This was a ring, his old tool of choice had been a knife. As such, they were balanced differently, and you couldn't really juggle them the same because of the difference in their shape. Throwing them would require a separate technique too, without a doubt. Pinball took a breath. "Alright." What happened next could only be described as complete and utter dumb luck. As soon as the item had left his hand, Pinball knew that he'd thrown the ring way too hard. And putting it that way was likely leaving it an understatement. He hurled that thing at the back wall with the average force you'd expect from a professional baseball pitch. Honestly, he was surprised it didn't completely disintigrate on impact. Instead, it ricocheted off the stall with a sharp thud, causing Pinball to visibly flinch as, rather than coming right back and cracking him square across the nose, the ring found its home spinning quickly around the neck of one of the jars in the center. It took him a couple of seconds to properly register what had happened. Then a voice at the back of his head reminded him. Reindeer with the scarf. A rewards screen had appeared in front of him, of which Pinball was able to pick out a single item of his choosing. "Well, um..." He scrolled through it and then tapped on the one Mishiro had initially showed interest in. A few more clicks through his invenory, and he was holding it in both hands. He offered it to her. "Here. Reindeer with a scarf. I hope you didn't want another one?"
  5. Action Taken: Sword Art - [Shadow Explosion] [-14 EN/+1 EN] {Well Rested} Flying Monkey 1: ID#155439 BD: 5+3= 8 (Hit) ~ 15*9= 135-20= 115 DMG Flying Monkey 3: ID#155440 BD: 10 (Crit) ~ 17*9= 153-20= 133 DMG + 108 DoT Flying Monkey 4: ID#155441 BD: 8 (Hit) ~ 15*9= 135-20= 115 DMG Pinball: 1320/1320 HP | 107/132 EN | 15 DMG | 3 ACC | 3 EVA | 9-10/36 BRN | 9-10/36 BLD | 9-10/36 BLIT Flying Monkey 1: 0/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT Flying Monkey 3: 0/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT Flying Monkey 4: 35/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT
  6. He hadn't made it fifty feet into the forest before he heard it. As if on cue; the flapping of wings, the rustle of foliage around him - and then he was surrounded by a horde of airborne monkeys, cackling and chittering amongst themselves. That's it? They just... appear? Ah, Pinball thought as he drew his weapon, well that's just lazy writing. Thoughts on Cardinal's blatant and painful lack of care for a compelling narrative aside, Pinball was quick to respond. He didn't like it when creatures got the drop on him, especially when he cut through them like a hot knife through butter. What monkey-bird things he did hit had their health dropped harder than a newborn Spartan with a birth defect, leaving one flat out dead and another weak and wobbly, bobbing up and down in the air. The flash of steel cutting through skin and leaving bright, pixilated wounds were met with shrieks the likes of which filled the quiet of the woods perfectly. Action Taken: Sword Art - [Shadow Explosion] [-12 EN] {Well Rested} Flying Monkey 1: ID#155434 BD: 3+3= 6 (Hit) MD: 5 (Miss) ~ 15*9= 135-20= 115 DMG Flying Monkey 2: ID#155435 BD: 9 (Crit) MD: 7 (Miss) ~ 16*9= 144-20= 124 DMG + 108 DoT Flying Monkey 3: ID#155436 BD: 2+3= 5 (Miss) MD: 4 (Miss) Flying Monkey 4: ID#155437 BD: 1 (Crit. Miss) MD: 8 (Miss) Pinball: 1320/1320 HP | 120/132 EN | 15 DMG | 3 ACC | 3 EVA | 9-10/36 BRN | 9-10/36 BLD | 9-10/36 BLIT Flying Monkey 1: 35/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT Flying Monkey 2: 0/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT Flying Monkey 3: 150/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT Flying Monkey 4: 150/150 HP | 70 DMG | 20 MIT
  7. It was during his aimless wanderings that, not unlike so many other times before, he ran into a problem. NPC Villagers were suddenly pestering him left and right about this evil witch thing holed up in some castle not too far from town. Now, Pinball just wanted to buy his bread - but it felt like every time an NPC walked past him, it was programmed to stop and try talking to him. It was annoying for more than the delightful crunch of that savory roll, though. Having attention drawn to him in the middle of a safe zone was a big pet peeve of his too, especially when he just wanted to get in, grab his baked goods, and then get out. Still. As he left those houses and shops behind him, Pinball considered the option of actually pursuing the quest. After all, it wasn't really like he had anything planned. Player Stats: House Buffs:
  8. He saw him across the way. The edgy swordsman that'd arrested him that Christmas. It felt almost like year ago, now, but that hatred burned his chest just the same. It was a familiar fire, something that rose in his throat and stayed there, leaving his eyes locked onto the man's back as he shot volley after volley of quiet insults at him. His heart was racing, his hands starting to shake, and all Pinball could think about was how easily the other frontliners accepted him. Granted, they'd also let Pinball in, too, but why hadn't they even questioned them? Nobody batted an eye at an orange cursor, less so at the dark and gloomy mask worn by someone who liked to masquerade as some fucked up police officer; and a bad one, at that. Whatever, he told himself, it's fine. If they were fine with it, he could try to keep that anger under wraps. But no matter how hard he tried to listen to the meeting, he couldn't keep his mind off him. Part of him wanted to stand up and just rip the mask off, just to look him in the eye and see who it was that ruined that night for him. He wanted to see the face of the man that kept him locked up in a room for weeks, stationing some poor girl outside his door who he could've easily killed if he'd felt the need to. And his voice. God, it took everything he had in him.
  9. Pinball


  10. Pinball

    [PP - F16] Flounder

    "Uh, yeah. Right." Pinball grimaced. She didn't seem against the idea of taking up the quest with him, though, so all was well. All. Was. Well. Seriously though. How long would that last, he wondered? And when would his pessimism stop seeping its way into interactions like this? "Well," he sighed, watching Lessa thumb up a party invite. "We should get going." The faster they got the thing over with, the better, he figured. He started to turn away, but snapped back to attention when she said she hadn't seen him around. It was a good point. Once upon a time, Pinball would have felt the same - it felt like he ran with the same people, more often than not. Almost like he lived in his own little world. "Used to," Pinball said. "I don't do much crafting or anything anymore, though. Closed up shop awhile ago. You?" With that, he'd finally start walking. What was the goal of this one? Were they going fishing? God, he hoped not.
  11. "Gonna murder all of them, too?" Pinball could feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle at the sound of Bahr's voice. "Don't tempt me," he spat, but his threat was obviously an empty one. There was no confidence in his words, his voice quivered when he spoke - and what could the lanky teen even do in a meeting full of frontliners, anyway? The response came out of reflex, but unbeknownst to Pinball, just for a moment, his stomach stopped doing flips. He glanced over at the man, taking note of his typical attire and the flower tucked into his hair. He felt the briefest pang of... something in his chest. Was it jealousy? Pinball's cheeks flushed at the thought, and so he took Bahr's proclamation and decided it was best if he ran with it. "Mm. Right." Casting his gaze aside, Pinball followed. With a closer look, Pinball quickly recognized a good chunk of the people present - but much to his dismay, there was an equal amount he didn't. Upon closer inspection, though, he started matching rumors with appearances. Ignoring Cordelia's glare entirely, Pinball strode through the crowd and came to a stop next to the swordsman who'd led him here. They'd went from a wall on one side of the room to another? Whatever. He slumped against it next to him, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and refusing to make eye contact with him. "Sure," he grumbled, biting his tongue, "but I'm at just as much of a loss as you are for most of these guys." He wasn't sure who Bahr knew and who he didn't, so Pinball took a wild guess and ruled out Cordelia, at the least. "Baldur is the guy hosting the event. Seems like the nice sort. Likes to dress up as a samurai." As if the architecture hadn't given that away anyway. The teen then shifted his gaze to the familiar visage of Aincrad's top tank. "Shield is one of, if not the tankiest tank I've met. Straight to business type? He knows his stuff, anyway. Crozeph, the one in black, blue eyes, was in a guild called Guardians of the New Dawn, a long time ago. But he disappeared not too long after the recruitment. I'm surprised to see him here. Yuki, the pink-haired girl, attacked me a few days earlier and then got mad at me for it." Pinball hadn't noticed NIGHT, and so she was spared his dry, one-way introduction to Bahr. That just left... the murderers. He knew them like the back of his hand. Since he'd killed Kirbs, Pinball had made it his goal to familiarize himself with the killers of Aincrad, whether it was directly through the Monument of Life or via rumors from various brokers. "I'm not comfortable with the amount of murderers gathered here," he murmured, acutely aware of the irony in the statement. His tone soured. "Especially not the ones in sheep's clothing. I don't know her," he admitted, nodding in Mari's general direction, "but that leaves Zandra, Macradon, Morgenstern, and, unless I'm wrong... Ariel-? The white-haired woman with the kid. Something about a killing on the frontlines? I don't remember. But I'm sure it wasn't justified." Pinball shook his head, his pale gaze falling back to the floor. "Sorry," he said curtly, "don't know the rest." Why the hell was he helping Bahr, again? Before he could follow up with that line of thought, a familiar woman approached the man and took Pinball by surprise. His expression immediately softened, and then completely froze over just a second later. Lessa had looped her arm in his, excusing the both of them. Not like she needed to. His heart sank remembering his past with her; at the thought of what she must have thought about him when she found out who he really was. Pinball didn't want to care about that sort of thing, but as if the world existed for the sole purpose of spiting him, it did. "Yeah. Sure." They were already walking away, though.
  12. Somehow, somewhere, he could feel the wolves watching him. Their eyes were like needles on his back, threatening reminders that urged him forward through a world of lush greens and deep blues. The winds whispered through the trees, the sea lapped gently at the shore, enveloping the individual islands in its beautiful ambience. He didn't find peace in these sounds. How could he? There was always that fear, that guilt, that icy dread, like there was always someone or something waiting to drive that sickening knife through his back when he least expected it. But when he looked over his shoulder, there was nothing. Nobody. He was alone, and he always had been. When had everything started to look so bleak? He knew why things were this way, of course, what events had unfolded to make it so. But he couldn't pinpoint the exact time he'd started to slip up. Had it been when he'd killed Sugutsuya? Attacked Dustin? Or had he been falling since the beginning? Since Mishiro? Since Lucy? Why had he forgotten? Why couldn't he remember? Was it because he didn't care? Or because he didn't want to remember? Somehow, somewhere, the birds were watching him. He'd passed through these woods more than once. He left a blackness in his wake, an inky trail of corrosive miasma that left the ground beneath him dark and withered. Grief? Anger? He tried to keep it bottled up but those turbulent thoughts were leaking anyways. It was in the defeated way he carried himself, in his cold eyes and dead expression. It was in his voice, dripping from his teeth like venom, and it was above his head, dark and orange and foreboding yet shinining even in the darkest of places, a medal presented to him to commemorate the sins he'd committed. It had to be a mistake. There was no other possible reason for it. Right? No, that wasn't true. It could be misinformation, negligence, a trap; there were plenty of things that could have happened that led to Pinball receiving that message. No matter which way he twisted it, though, one thing remained clear: he shouldn't be going. So why was he? Pinball hated himself just a little bit more with every step he took in that direction, and he hadn't even known that was possible. There were going to people that hated him there. Rightfully so. People who would want to attack him. They wouldn't fight beside him. They would want to lock him up, wouldn't they? Drag him into some sort of gloomy dungeon like last time and leave him chained up there for good. The options seemed pretty damn grim. At best, they'd eject him from the meeting. At worst, he'd have a collection of frontliners gunning for his throat. Pinball's normally stoic features twisted into an agitated snarl as he stomped his way down the shore. Whatever. He was going anyway. There was a boat. A boy. Without greeting and without pause, Pinball got in, the raft rocking slightly as he settled down, and together they drifted across those tranquil waters. The house - er, houses - were gorgeous, and styled after exactly the sort of architecture he expected from Baldur. Elegant arches bowed over well kept gardens, all the while maintaining a view of the oceans around them. He hadn't seen the samurai himself in a long time. And honestly? Seeing the buildings, and people milling about not far from the ferry's landing? He didn't feel any more inclined to. It was time for him to suck it up and go for it, though. Adjusting his jacket and resting the palm of his hand on his sword's pommel, Pinball stepped off and out of the boat and quietly made his way to the meeting place. No greetings from him, no acknowledgement to the others. He found his place to stand and he stood there, leaning against a support -- because there was no way for him to approach this that wasn't already horrifyingly awkward for all parties involved. Pinball maintained a healthy distance, both out of respect to the others who'd gotten here before him, and caution for the others. Shield, Cordelia, Baldur, Morgenstern - with an orange cursor? And there, a ginger woman with another. Something about the white-haired woman and her child(?) didn't exactly seem too friendly either, despite their attire. Pinball frowned, running his fingers through his hair and trying to relax. He wasn't liking what he was seeing already.
  13. Pinball


    Dagger plx? :0
  14. Pinball

    [F7-Cook-R10/Max] The Rolling Bite

    With the rapidly approaching threat of the 25th Floor Boss fight, Pinball was left scrambling for the supplies he needed to survive. Last time he'd taken part in a raid, he'd come ill-prepared for the deadly torrent that seemed intent on draining his health with every passing second. Now, with that lesson learned (as well as paranoia when it came to the people he'd be fighting alongside), it was more important than ever to procure the necessities. He'd tried his hand at his old workshop, too... to disastrous effect. He just didn't have the same skill he used to. So he went to someone a more experienced. Having an orange cursor made things, tricky, of course -- but if he'd have him, Pinball would be up front and direct about what he needed. "I just need one each of Probiotics and Antibiotics, and another single Over-Health." Ordering: x1 Perfect T3 Over-Health x1 Perfect T3 Probiotics x1 Perfect Antibiotics Paying: x9 T3 Materials
  15. {1/8} T3 {2/8} T3 {3/8} T3 {4/8} T3 {5/8} T3 {6/8} T3 {7/8} T3 {8/8} T3