Oscar

“Fucking what?” Oscar’s tone was thick with disbelief. “You’re on Floor 21, dude. How the fuck did you think this would go?” He paused long enough to make his next attack. He leapt from the ground and drove his blade straight into the King’s chest. His face contorted in effort as he wrenched his blade free and struck twice more in quick succession, leaving long red gashes across the King’s torso. He kicked off and somersaulted backward in midair before landing lightly on his feet. The King was almost dead, so Oscar turned to face Abellio. “Yeah. You’re stupid. A basic mob this high up wou

Seeing his handiwork, Oscar was able to breathe a sigh of relief. He had plenty left in the tank - Health and Energy. The King couldn’t really say that. He heard a concerned voice from the arena entrance. The noob, he remembered. “I’m fine,” Oscar called back sternly. “Stacking buffs means you stack debuffs sometimes. I can’t move right now after doing all of that.” It was a fair trade. The ability to lay such an infamous boss low with a single blow justified the cost. He was just glad the boss hadn’t actually hit him before the debuff from the crystal wore off. He wasn’t concerned f

Maybe it had been longer than Oscar thought. He remembered the last time he came here that it had required a full party of people to put this boss down. He was certainly stronger now, but he didn’t realize by how much. Never would he have imagined that he would reach the point where he was so easily able to handle such a foe. The boss struck true - crit him even - and yet he had all but shrugged it off. Battle Healing recovered the lion’s share of what the boss had dealt to him. It was time to go on the offensive. He lashed out with a slice at the creature’s midriff. Divine Rancor began

Of all the stupid things to do, coming to Floor 21 as a Level 1 was right there at the top of the list. Oscar was familiar with the floor and its tunnels. He was able to easily get ahead of the man. Good thing he did, because he had every NPC and monster in two post codes driving straight for his location. He wouldn’t be able to convince the man to turn around before something looked at him sideways. Oscar swore under his breath and drew his weapon. The only thing that he could do was cut a path through to the boss. Arguing outside of town was only going to get the red-head killed. And so

There was another in the city as well. He was sat outside of a small tavern near the central plaza. He was intently focused on something in his menus. Oscar seemed to be agonizing over a message of some sort. He would type a few words and then scrunch his face up in annoyance and delete everything he’d written. This repeated on and on until something broke his focus. The town was empty and quiet. Outside of the NPCs - who had learned to tune out - the other Players were above or below them. Floor 21 only attracted a specific type of Player: those wanting to slay the Forgotten Time King for som

They were quite a motley crew, if Oscar said so himself. Seeing the way everyone greeted one another and the ease with which they fell into socializing made Oscar feel just a pang of regret. He had been so focused, so driven, in his quest to become one of the vaunted Frontliners that he had never stopped to smell the roses. He’d never really tried to ingratiate himself with anyone outside of a small number of confidants. Perhaps things would have been different if he had. Maybe it wouldn’t have all gone to shit. But he’d played his hand the best he could. There was no room for sour grapes

It had been a hard-won fight. Perhaps it was the fact that Oscar and Comcast had their disagreements during boss raids specifically, but he couldn't remember the last time that he needed to *try* that hard. But he felt a measure of pride. As if he had left everything he could on the field and then some. He selected his rewards from the menu pop-up and shoved his hands into his pockets. Floor 29 awaited them. Whatever mysteries lay beyond, he had never been more confident in the Frontliners' ability to handle it. Except Wulfrin. He had plans for that dummy. "RIP Persi. You was a real one."

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Skill(s) Being Dropped: Charge, Grappling Familiar Mod(s)/Addon(s)/Shift(s) Being Dropped: N/A SP Incurred Towards Limit: 20 SP Refunded: 20 Cost: 20k Col

Maybe it was a bit too hopeful to pull a repeat of the last round. As if insulted by Oscar's simple logic, the bear made sure they were all tripping balls at the end. A welcome turn of events. It was hard to conceptualize the risks and dangers the game when a bear was befuddling your perception. Oscar could see it all. The fire of creation. Everything was a cycle, like a hot dog on a gas station roller. Trundling on and on, molded and changed by its environment. The searing, blistering heat. Life was like a hot dog, he realized, as he watched the cosmos unfold before him. Swirling nebula

Oh, Freyd was alive. How exactly had that happened? Oscar had been overcome by such a raging hate boner and now the source of the hate had dried up. Happy as he was to see his homie alive and kicking (though he had to make a mental note to pour one out for the realest one, Persi), it was all rather deflating. Oscar had been so ready to go on a tear and now he felt as if he had dove face first into a bucket of ice. The bear was doing some vague bear shit. It was like Alice In Wonderland with some topsy-turvy pizza scented nonsense. Perhaps it might have sent them down the proverbial rabbit

“Get behind me!” Oscar could scarcely recognize the voice. The desperation in the tone, the urgency in the inflection. It forced him to swivel his head towards the source. He could scarcely believe what he saw. Oscar had never known Freyd to lose his composure like that. There had been only one time in a throwaway quest where he’d seen the man come close. As Oscar watched the man throw himself into the line of fire, something shook him to his very core. A gnawing dread gripped him. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Oscar trusted Freyd. Implicitly. But he also knew what was about to hap

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At last, the blindness effect had lifted. Oscar paused for a moment, rising back to his feet and taking stock of the status of everyone. It seemed that despite their rocky start, the team had fallen into some semblance of equilibiirum. It was a struggle, but they had adapted to the boss mechanics. This was good. Now, perhaps Oscar could have some impact beyond wrenching Alkor loose from a bear. His hands were slick from the mire. That was fine, he decided. The first time had caught him by surprise. If the team could adapt, so could he. He swapped hands, freeing up his sword hand so that

After the chaos of the last round, Oscar was able to breathe a small sigh of relief that things were now relatively calm. That being said, this confounding blindness was certainly making things difficult. His vision was still mostly dark, rendering effective combat all but impossible. Still, he felt that, perhaps, he could lean on the System just a bit and try his luck. 20 percent was 20 percent after all. It would matter how blind he was if his swing resulted in a crit. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to pull it off. A swing and a miss. Still, the din of combat and the sound of bladed coll

That hurt. That shit really hurt. What made matters worse, Oscar's vision quickly became obfuscated by an effect not unlike a blot of ink on a screen. Peering through the holes in the umbra, he made his way toward the feasts from before the fight. Nothing was going to plan. He'd yet to deal any damage and the Boss' AOE had cut through the party like a 4000 degree knife through butter. The team was quick to respond, however. The damage was quickly healed up while Oscar fumbled towards his diamonds. If he couldn't do damage, he could at least try to take a hit. Before he scarfed down his pr

Things were starting to unravel a bit too quickly for Oscar's liking. Looking around at the other groups, he felt fortunate that his team only had to contend with Alkor being grappled by the bear. Oscar needed to make a change. Plans had dictated he would endeavor to deal damage, but given Alkor’s struggle, the plan had changed. What they needed was a little luck. Oscar slipped his ring from his finger and produced a pair of gloves from his inventory. Perhaps one of the oldest items in his ownership. Across the way, his eyes affixed on Bahr. A smile crept onto his face as he remembered th

Oscar's hands moved to his hips, his chest thrust out with pride. "Any composition I want, Night." He assumed she was asking about the ingredients or flavor. It was the same answer either way. He was a Grandmaster Cook. He could turn nuts and bolts and bark into the finest meal you'd ever eat. How else was he able to make diamonds and metal digestible? Oscar waved to the new person with a bright smile. Things had certainly become more lively than he was accustomed to. He truly enjoyed the company of his compatriots on the Frontlines, but one could only deal with the same people for so long bef

Oscar was glad that everyone he had called had actually shown up. He was rather certain that this boss wouldn't pose much of a problem, but he also didn't want to exert all of that effort to turn up nothing. As everyone arrived and set about consuming their feasts, Oscar stepped up in front of the group. It was a dangerous place to feast - outside the city. Roaming mobs could set upon them at any moment. Of course, that would certainly end up badly for them. Though there were some new faces, there were familiar ones too. Oscar felt confident that between himself, NIGHT, and Cordelia, they coul

Comcast had not yet failed him as it had so many times. Figures, the first time that he's not tanking that his provider wouldn't lag him out. There was something liberating about being a DPS. Less responsibility meant that he could, for better or worse, let his chaos shine through. Of course, he would need to hit the thing. It was his first time really fighting anything without Absolute Accuracy carrying him to victory and basically allowing him to operate on autopilot. So he hit that Charge button and took off like a bat out of Hell, ready to carve into the bear's fetid flesh. Only to im

“I can’t believe the game let me make this,” Oscar said. It had all begun with him hijacking an airship on Floor 24. From there, his own chaotic creativity took over. Everyone seemed so depressed. Ice cream helped with that. A strange amalgamation of ice cream and confections prowled the Floor. Hull replaced with a waffle cone. Engines that ran on Rocky Road. Bullets replaced with sprinkles, missiles with chocolate-dipped ice cream cones. It was a beautiful sight. Oscar took some small satisfaction in his mobile base. It was always a good pastime to menace the very real and super ser

The place smelled like death. Oscar stepped into the fetid arena with a look of sheer disdain upon his face. It was one thing to hold ten thousand people hostage with ticking time bombs on their heads. It was quite another to assault their senses with the smell of decay. “Insult to injury, Kayaba,” Oscar murmured as he joined the ever-growing throng of people. Despite the gut-churning stench of the arena, Oscar kept a deadpan expression. Unusually so, in fact. The type of blank expression one might keep when they’re specifically trying not to expel the contents of their stomach. A brave f

Accepted item, shard sent.. Dents.

"Well you got me there, Mina," Oscar said with a laugh. In truth, it only benefited Oscar and his craft to absorb as much knowledge as possible. Even if it might have been something so provincial as cooking classes. But his Magnum Opus still called to him. It might have been precisely because of that that he was able to set his pride aside for the sake of his current, ultimate goal. But still, he didn't want to spoil the surprise. That was half the fun, after all. Confirming to all of the Players that bosses were not threats, they were food. It would do wonders to bolster morale. Still, being