Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2013 0:44:26 GMT
Critic twirled his cane around in the air as the man attacked. A man who was nothing more than a black outline, a nobody, not even human, a virus with a black sword. Critic poked his cane through the stomach and flipped him over his head, towards the other million viruses trying to attack Critic.
They all toppled over and there were some clipping issues, some melded into each other and it was generally immersion breaking.
Critic clicked his fingers and from his hands sprung the moon and all the stars of the universe, twinkling down upon him like a spotlight illuminating the main character on stage.
The viruses were unaffected by anti-gravity, why should they be, they're viruses. They don't care about context.
Other viruses decided to join in the fun as they appeared behind critic, leaving a huge hole leading out into the starless darkness from which Critic had come from.
The smirk on Critic's face and returned, oddly enough, and it didn't appear ready to leave anytime soon.
Critic floated there in the air and fought off wave after wave of identical viruses, most of them tumbling into each other. Whenever Critic had a spare moment, he would try putting up firewalls so that they couldn't call in reinforcements.
Eventually, however, the near infinite number of viruses caused lag. Critic lost his rhythm as the viruses flopped onto him, creating a huge mound of black hanging above the moon, a disgusting blemish amongst the beauty of space.
Then, light erupted from the center and suddenly the formless mass were sent hurtling into the moon, the impact being so strong that it spread them all across its surface, enveloping the silver beauty in a blanket of dark corruption.
Critic appeared above, and pulled his top hat over his face as if pitying them. A blue firewall appeared over the viruses, so that he could be sure that they wouldn't escape. Critic then turned around and clicked his fingers as he left the virtual space. The sight he missed was that of millions of giant swords constructed purely of light, one for each every individual virus, appearing all over the moon and falling in near endless succession, not stopping until everything was deleted.
As Critic wandered around the now empty limbo space in which viruses tended to dwell in, he soon got a message transferring credits to his bank account, one credits for every hundred viruses defeated. There was also EXP gain, Critic having carried over his online powers from an MMO he seldom bothered to play anymore. The millions of EXP he obtained barely caused his progression to the next level flicker, the level also being a number which Critic had long since stopped counting. Besides all that, the attacks were merely aesthetics, Critic usually just had to contain the viruses in a virtual space, place up firewalls then click delete.
Critic felt odd however.
He felt something wriggling at his feet. Looking at the underside of his shoe, he noticed a small ad wriggling about.
"Well, ad blockers don't have to work everytime..." He said to himself, secretly peeved that it had stopped working. The ad jumped up and bit Critc's fingers, an act which appeared to disable the ad blocker.
"Oh god no!" Critic yelled to himself as the environment erupted with advertisements.
"SHOES! BUY CUSTOM AVATAR SHOES ONLY 30 CREDITS!"
"ONLINE SERVERS! ONLINE SUBSCRIPTIONS! WE GUARANTEE TO BEAT OUR COMPETITOR'S PRICES!"
"PLUTO VIRTUAL ENVIRONMENT AVAILABLE TODAY FOR 1000 CREDITS!"
Critic hurriedly turned the add blocker off before the bright colours gave him a seizure and hastily deleted the add, throwing it heavily into the dustbin nearby which served as a more orthodox way of deleting unwanted things in the virtual environment.
"Ads destroy you where the mighty viruses failed?"
Critic had heard that voice before. He braced himself, and responded.
"Yes, well, they simply caught me off guard. Nothing I cant handle." Responded Critic.
Critic turned around to see who had spoken. A tall, handsome brute of a man with muscles that would put an Olympian God to shame.
"Of course, Critic. Of course. Glad to know that there are still some things that you're useful for." The man responded.
Critic turned away. This man revolted Critic to the very core.
"Don't you have a mindless harem of offline women waiting for you in that garish golden palace of yours? I didn't imagine that you'd be the type to dare come to limbo." Said Critic.
"That sharp tongue of yours! Shame you can't employ it in your little show." The man retorted.
"Heracles, you really should watch yourself. A single virus can break down your avatar in a second, and I know your not used to lifting a finger." Critic sighed.
"If you really have nothing better to do than sit here and make a fool out of yourself in front of the man renown for making fools of idols then I question your mental sanity." Critic finished.
Heracles rolled his eyes and decided to ignore Critic for now.
"Actually, I did come here for a reason. See Critic, as much as we hate each other, I know that we do admire each other."
"I don't admire you."
"Oh, but you do, you admire something of mine that you try to work for every day of your life."
"I'm not selling my soul for one of your women or your palace, I could make anyone of those things and more right now-"
"No, no, no. No. I am referring to my immortal status on the internet."
Critic actually stopped for a moment. Heracles was one who no longer had a physical body, his brain was no contained on the world wide web, a privilege only those who were useful enough to the companies as money makers were granted on account of limited RAM, as brains used up tons of energy. If there was but one thing wrong with Critic's life, it was that every 48 hours he was forced back into reality. He had brought as much time as he could, but he wasn't immortal. He was going to die one day, and so would the cultural icon known as the Virtual Critic.
"I'm listening."
Heracles smiled, knowing he had hit a right note.
"It's rather simple. My company buys up your show, meaning we get a small cut of revenue generated, and right to suggestions as to the show's future directions." Heracles said.
Critic thought this over. Others had done this. It wouldn't be too bad, especially since Critic had more than enough credits anyway.
But then there was Heracles show, which reviewed online porn simulators specifically. Heracles was a massive pervert who spent most of his time in offline sex simulators, and somehow he made a profit off of that. The show was fine at first, genuine, calm evaluations, but the last episode Critic bothered to watch was more a porno in and of it's self than an actual, critical review. What would the Virtual Critic become? Nothing quite so vulgar, perhaps, but would the creators impose upon him a show where he yelled angrily more than he actually gave critical reviews which helped people? While he found the jokes funny, he always tried to be as fair as possible, looking at bad in perfection and good in tripe.
"Well?" Asked Heracles.
Critic nodded a few times then looked up at Heracles.
"I need more time to think. I'd love to remain immortal but there are other factors to take into consideration." Critic responded.
Heracles nodded, somewhat satisfied.
"I understand. We have another candidate, so, we'll give you until Sunday. You know my number, just call it up and say yes or no." Said Heracles, then he turned around and disappeared.
Critic sighed and went offline.
When Critic returned, the notice telling him to return to the real world popped up again. He was very irritated, he had been neglecting his editing work.
However, something very strange happened. The world glitched, like lag, but... overall, something completely different.
Critic wandered through an open landscape, like limbo. Not even the graphics for his avatar had loaded up.
He hit an invisable wall and decided to turn a corner, and as he blinked, he realised he was in a communal server, which strongly represented a sci-fi city. To Critic, however, all it was was an overcrowded, graish placed filled with many people of all manners and dispositions, most of which got in Critic's way as they tried to get autographs. It's why Critic sticks mostly to limbo and offline servers.
But, something was very odd. He was supposed to have logged out, after all, and looking down at his hands, his avatar still hadn't loaded. At present, he looked identical to a virus. His simple appearance hadn't attracted attention, luckily.
He decided to wait around for his avatar, feeling naked without it, when suddenly he heard an announcement.
"Hello ladies and gentleman today is sunday and today is a very special live stream of our very own, beloved Virtual Critic! Taking place today right in this square on popular demand." Announced the hyped up voice.
The crowd roared.
Critic was confused. He was never this popular, today was wednesday, and...
Indeed, as he looked on, he saw his avatar appear on the live stream stage, his grin mocking Critic ever so genuinely.
The Virtual Critic held his hat over his head, and tilted his body unnaturally, as if posing dramatically for a camera.
"Jeez, doesn't he... I... I mean I find that far to unnatural and painful..." Critic said to himself, rubbing his black back.
The crowd continued to cheer. Girls fainted, men cheered and beat their fists in the air, people of diverse and interesting avatars, of all races, all genders, all tastes, all fixated on the Virtual Critic on the metropolis.
"I'm the Virtual Critic. I hate the world so that you can all enjoy it more. And today..." He said, looking directly at his former self.
"There are a lot of things I hate."
They all toppled over and there were some clipping issues, some melded into each other and it was generally immersion breaking.
Critic clicked his fingers and from his hands sprung the moon and all the stars of the universe, twinkling down upon him like a spotlight illuminating the main character on stage.
The viruses were unaffected by anti-gravity, why should they be, they're viruses. They don't care about context.
Other viruses decided to join in the fun as they appeared behind critic, leaving a huge hole leading out into the starless darkness from which Critic had come from.
The smirk on Critic's face and returned, oddly enough, and it didn't appear ready to leave anytime soon.
Critic floated there in the air and fought off wave after wave of identical viruses, most of them tumbling into each other. Whenever Critic had a spare moment, he would try putting up firewalls so that they couldn't call in reinforcements.
Eventually, however, the near infinite number of viruses caused lag. Critic lost his rhythm as the viruses flopped onto him, creating a huge mound of black hanging above the moon, a disgusting blemish amongst the beauty of space.
Then, light erupted from the center and suddenly the formless mass were sent hurtling into the moon, the impact being so strong that it spread them all across its surface, enveloping the silver beauty in a blanket of dark corruption.
Critic appeared above, and pulled his top hat over his face as if pitying them. A blue firewall appeared over the viruses, so that he could be sure that they wouldn't escape. Critic then turned around and clicked his fingers as he left the virtual space. The sight he missed was that of millions of giant swords constructed purely of light, one for each every individual virus, appearing all over the moon and falling in near endless succession, not stopping until everything was deleted.
As Critic wandered around the now empty limbo space in which viruses tended to dwell in, he soon got a message transferring credits to his bank account, one credits for every hundred viruses defeated. There was also EXP gain, Critic having carried over his online powers from an MMO he seldom bothered to play anymore. The millions of EXP he obtained barely caused his progression to the next level flicker, the level also being a number which Critic had long since stopped counting. Besides all that, the attacks were merely aesthetics, Critic usually just had to contain the viruses in a virtual space, place up firewalls then click delete.
Critic felt odd however.
He felt something wriggling at his feet. Looking at the underside of his shoe, he noticed a small ad wriggling about.
"Well, ad blockers don't have to work everytime..." He said to himself, secretly peeved that it had stopped working. The ad jumped up and bit Critc's fingers, an act which appeared to disable the ad blocker.
"Oh god no!" Critic yelled to himself as the environment erupted with advertisements.
"SHOES! BUY CUSTOM AVATAR SHOES ONLY 30 CREDITS!"
"ONLINE SERVERS! ONLINE SUBSCRIPTIONS! WE GUARANTEE TO BEAT OUR COMPETITOR'S PRICES!"
"PLUTO VIRTUAL ENVIRONMENT AVAILABLE TODAY FOR 1000 CREDITS!"
Critic hurriedly turned the add blocker off before the bright colours gave him a seizure and hastily deleted the add, throwing it heavily into the dustbin nearby which served as a more orthodox way of deleting unwanted things in the virtual environment.
"Ads destroy you where the mighty viruses failed?"
Critic had heard that voice before. He braced himself, and responded.
"Yes, well, they simply caught me off guard. Nothing I cant handle." Responded Critic.
Critic turned around to see who had spoken. A tall, handsome brute of a man with muscles that would put an Olympian God to shame.
"Of course, Critic. Of course. Glad to know that there are still some things that you're useful for." The man responded.
Critic turned away. This man revolted Critic to the very core.
"Don't you have a mindless harem of offline women waiting for you in that garish golden palace of yours? I didn't imagine that you'd be the type to dare come to limbo." Said Critic.
"That sharp tongue of yours! Shame you can't employ it in your little show." The man retorted.
"Heracles, you really should watch yourself. A single virus can break down your avatar in a second, and I know your not used to lifting a finger." Critic sighed.
"If you really have nothing better to do than sit here and make a fool out of yourself in front of the man renown for making fools of idols then I question your mental sanity." Critic finished.
Heracles rolled his eyes and decided to ignore Critic for now.
"Actually, I did come here for a reason. See Critic, as much as we hate each other, I know that we do admire each other."
"I don't admire you."
"Oh, but you do, you admire something of mine that you try to work for every day of your life."
"I'm not selling my soul for one of your women or your palace, I could make anyone of those things and more right now-"
"No, no, no. No. I am referring to my immortal status on the internet."
Critic actually stopped for a moment. Heracles was one who no longer had a physical body, his brain was no contained on the world wide web, a privilege only those who were useful enough to the companies as money makers were granted on account of limited RAM, as brains used up tons of energy. If there was but one thing wrong with Critic's life, it was that every 48 hours he was forced back into reality. He had brought as much time as he could, but he wasn't immortal. He was going to die one day, and so would the cultural icon known as the Virtual Critic.
"I'm listening."
Heracles smiled, knowing he had hit a right note.
"It's rather simple. My company buys up your show, meaning we get a small cut of revenue generated, and right to suggestions as to the show's future directions." Heracles said.
Critic thought this over. Others had done this. It wouldn't be too bad, especially since Critic had more than enough credits anyway.
But then there was Heracles show, which reviewed online porn simulators specifically. Heracles was a massive pervert who spent most of his time in offline sex simulators, and somehow he made a profit off of that. The show was fine at first, genuine, calm evaluations, but the last episode Critic bothered to watch was more a porno in and of it's self than an actual, critical review. What would the Virtual Critic become? Nothing quite so vulgar, perhaps, but would the creators impose upon him a show where he yelled angrily more than he actually gave critical reviews which helped people? While he found the jokes funny, he always tried to be as fair as possible, looking at bad in perfection and good in tripe.
"Well?" Asked Heracles.
Critic nodded a few times then looked up at Heracles.
"I need more time to think. I'd love to remain immortal but there are other factors to take into consideration." Critic responded.
Heracles nodded, somewhat satisfied.
"I understand. We have another candidate, so, we'll give you until Sunday. You know my number, just call it up and say yes or no." Said Heracles, then he turned around and disappeared.
Critic sighed and went offline.
When Critic returned, the notice telling him to return to the real world popped up again. He was very irritated, he had been neglecting his editing work.
However, something very strange happened. The world glitched, like lag, but... overall, something completely different.
Critic wandered through an open landscape, like limbo. Not even the graphics for his avatar had loaded up.
He hit an invisable wall and decided to turn a corner, and as he blinked, he realised he was in a communal server, which strongly represented a sci-fi city. To Critic, however, all it was was an overcrowded, graish placed filled with many people of all manners and dispositions, most of which got in Critic's way as they tried to get autographs. It's why Critic sticks mostly to limbo and offline servers.
But, something was very odd. He was supposed to have logged out, after all, and looking down at his hands, his avatar still hadn't loaded. At present, he looked identical to a virus. His simple appearance hadn't attracted attention, luckily.
He decided to wait around for his avatar, feeling naked without it, when suddenly he heard an announcement.
"Hello ladies and gentleman today is sunday and today is a very special live stream of our very own, beloved Virtual Critic! Taking place today right in this square on popular demand." Announced the hyped up voice.
The crowd roared.
Critic was confused. He was never this popular, today was wednesday, and...
Indeed, as he looked on, he saw his avatar appear on the live stream stage, his grin mocking Critic ever so genuinely.
The Virtual Critic held his hat over his head, and tilted his body unnaturally, as if posing dramatically for a camera.
"Jeez, doesn't he... I... I mean I find that far to unnatural and painful..." Critic said to himself, rubbing his black back.
The crowd continued to cheer. Girls fainted, men cheered and beat their fists in the air, people of diverse and interesting avatars, of all races, all genders, all tastes, all fixated on the Virtual Critic on the metropolis.
"I'm the Virtual Critic. I hate the world so that you can all enjoy it more. And today..." He said, looking directly at his former self.
"There are a lot of things I hate."
