Post by Dave D-Flipz on Aug 22, 2021 20:33:31 GMT -5
“DOOFENSHMIRTZ EVIL INCORPORATED!!”
We open in the garage of the Angry Mad Chemists. There is an evil pow wow of scientific minds happening at the table in the downstairs area where ourheroes villains sit … and the topic cannot be good.
"What choice do we have. Things have gotten out of hand."
Billy, the horrible driver chimes in. He slams his fist on the table … then rubs it in pain.
"The uh, indoctrinator was, um, genius. And the portals are a, um, pleasure, haha, to have. But …"
The chaotician and weapons expert, Dr. Ian Brundle retorts.
"IT’S NOT WORTH THE BLOODY HASSLE! We are men of science and this has gone on long enough. He has turned his back on the logic and it shows. His brain is addled. Like swiss cheese. And now our paychecks are going into more eldritch stuff. If I had the gumption, I’d go back to hunting that hedgehog. But this racing league is too ripe for the taking."
With Ovi Kintobor, the lead mechanic, pitching in his opinion, it seems the topic is settled. They all break and walk over to another room in the garage, ignoring the filth crusting the Chemistruckinator after Terminal Velocity, ignoring their Silicone Cup trophy in all its busty glory. Upon creaking open the door, a musty smell and a fog emits. There are bars holding something in.
"We’ve decided. We will assist you. In return, you allow us to freely continue to race for OUR own gain. And use all the current supplies. But … him … you can do what you wish with. He means nothing to us. As long as his money flows to the team?"
"You could roast him, um, on a spit for all we care … haha!"
A twitchy and unstable green creature shuffles to the door and gazes through the bars, fire on the top of his tongue, smoke in his nostrils. A green wingaling dragon … with a beefy arm coming out of the back of his neck. Stick figure legs and consummate v’s defining all his majesty (which Dr. Chaos is still very unsure about).
"REEEEEEEE ---- eeeeally wise decision. I cannot maintain control over this body much longer. The deal we struck has turned sour and he has become a liability to my continued existence. I need-"
"RRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWRRRRRRRRR- BUUUUURRRRRNNNIIIIIINNNNAAAAAATTTTEEEEE!!!!"
The dragon lashes out and slams its body into the bars before it shakes its head and calms.
"The burninator’s will is strong. We must extract the eldritch energy from the one who summoned me, and infuse it into a vessel so I may remove myself from this beast."
In another room, the Sanctum Sanctimonious that is, where Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz keeps his most secret things, we find the financial backer of the team sitting in a lounge chair stroking his evil beard and fiddling with his eye patch.
"Sigh. I cannot believe they won without me. And that Brie Mason ran away with an eldritch army without me. ME! The DOOFINATOR! How could she do better than me? It’s all this science. It's mucking up my mojo. Perry the Platypus would understand."
He turns the chair and looks at a small cage being bombarded with indoctrinator energy.
"He would if the side effects of the highest power, point blank range Indoctrinator didn’t strip him of his mind! He is being bombarded with the idea that DOOF IS LIFE! DOOF IS GOOD! DO ANYTHING TO PROTECT DOOF! It’s numbing his mind permanently. Also the buck teeth and weird censor bar on the crotch… how unusual. Soon the effect will be permanent. And a proof of concept. I will turn the weapon on the world. They will all become my mindless army. It’s the only way to gain more eldritch power and … finally be happy again."
He scratches a moldy, rotted, dirty, cup cup … still adorning his crotch. Suddenly four cowboys burst through the door into his private quarters!
"Depressed, Depressed, depressed, DEPRESSED!
He’s sad and mostly broken, he’s lacking dopamine.
He needs a boost to make things match the vision he’s seen!
But trouble is a brewing, his team is turning mean.
They’re busting in, punch to the chin, they see that he is just obsessed.
Depressed, Depressed, Depressed, Depressed!"
"Wait what was that last part- OH NO!"
The chemists flanked by PHROOOAGGH burst in behind the chorus and tackle Doof, with Ian landing a punch to the jaw. They tie him up and stare into his eyes as the dragon’s shadow begins to block the light.
"But the race! Don’t you have to … oh … oh a two parter… CURSE YOU CONTINUITY!"
The team drags Doof to the garage, in chains, to hold him until they have more time to enact their plan…but first … a race.
1. How do you plan to swing by the swinging balls?
"Billy: A burst from the chemical engine or a blast of corrosion will handle any balls."
2. How fast is the conveyor belt moving?
"Ian: My measurements, uh, say that the conveyer belt, um, uh, cannot be moving more than 10 miles an hour … chaos would ensue."
3. Do you see the flame thrower?
"See it? LET’S TAKE IT! Hedgehog’s are flammable to you know!"
4. How will your team respond to winning?
"RRRRREEEEEE! RETURN THE PRIZE MONEY TO THE GARAGE AND FUEL OUR EXTRACTION PROCESS!"
5. How will your team respond to not winning?
"Bah, it doesn’t matter, we have to purge Doof. Get to it boys!"
We open in the garage of the Angry Mad Chemists. There is an evil pow wow of scientific minds happening at the table in the downstairs area where our
"What choice do we have. Things have gotten out of hand."
Billy, the horrible driver chimes in. He slams his fist on the table … then rubs it in pain.
"The uh, indoctrinator was, um, genius. And the portals are a, um, pleasure, haha, to have. But …"
The chaotician and weapons expert, Dr. Ian Brundle retorts.
"IT’S NOT WORTH THE BLOODY HASSLE! We are men of science and this has gone on long enough. He has turned his back on the logic and it shows. His brain is addled. Like swiss cheese. And now our paychecks are going into more eldritch stuff. If I had the gumption, I’d go back to hunting that hedgehog. But this racing league is too ripe for the taking."
With Ovi Kintobor, the lead mechanic, pitching in his opinion, it seems the topic is settled. They all break and walk over to another room in the garage, ignoring the filth crusting the Chemistruckinator after Terminal Velocity, ignoring their Silicone Cup trophy in all its busty glory. Upon creaking open the door, a musty smell and a fog emits. There are bars holding something in.
"We’ve decided. We will assist you. In return, you allow us to freely continue to race for OUR own gain. And use all the current supplies. But … him … you can do what you wish with. He means nothing to us. As long as his money flows to the team?"
"You could roast him, um, on a spit for all we care … haha!"
A twitchy and unstable green creature shuffles to the door and gazes through the bars, fire on the top of his tongue, smoke in his nostrils. A green wingaling dragon … with a beefy arm coming out of the back of his neck. Stick figure legs and consummate v’s defining all his majesty (which Dr. Chaos is still very unsure about).
"REEEEEEEE ---- eeeeally wise decision. I cannot maintain control over this body much longer. The deal we struck has turned sour and he has become a liability to my continued existence. I need-"
"RRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWRRRRRRRRR- BUUUUURRRRRNNNIIIIIINNNNAAAAAATTTTEEEEE!!!!"
The dragon lashes out and slams its body into the bars before it shakes its head and calms.
"The burninator’s will is strong. We must extract the eldritch energy from the one who summoned me, and infuse it into a vessel so I may remove myself from this beast."
In another room, the Sanctum Sanctimonious that is, where Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz keeps his most secret things, we find the financial backer of the team sitting in a lounge chair stroking his evil beard and fiddling with his eye patch.
"Sigh. I cannot believe they won without me. And that Brie Mason ran away with an eldritch army without me. ME! The DOOFINATOR! How could she do better than me? It’s all this science. It's mucking up my mojo. Perry the Platypus would understand."
He turns the chair and looks at a small cage being bombarded with indoctrinator energy.
"He would if the side effects of the highest power, point blank range Indoctrinator didn’t strip him of his mind! He is being bombarded with the idea that DOOF IS LIFE! DOOF IS GOOD! DO ANYTHING TO PROTECT DOOF! It’s numbing his mind permanently. Also the buck teeth and weird censor bar on the crotch… how unusual. Soon the effect will be permanent. And a proof of concept. I will turn the weapon on the world. They will all become my mindless army. It’s the only way to gain more eldritch power and … finally be happy again."
He scratches a moldy, rotted, dirty, cup cup … still adorning his crotch. Suddenly four cowboys burst through the door into his private quarters!
"Depressed, Depressed, depressed, DEPRESSED!
He’s sad and mostly broken, he’s lacking dopamine.
He needs a boost to make things match the vision he’s seen!
But trouble is a brewing, his team is turning mean.
They’re busting in, punch to the chin, they see that he is just obsessed.
Depressed, Depressed, Depressed, Depressed!"
"Wait what was that last part- OH NO!"
The chemists flanked by PHROOOAGGH burst in behind the chorus and tackle Doof, with Ian landing a punch to the jaw. They tie him up and stare into his eyes as the dragon’s shadow begins to block the light.
"But the race! Don’t you have to … oh … oh a two parter… CURSE YOU CONTINUITY!"
The team drags Doof to the garage, in chains, to hold him until they have more time to enact their plan…but first … a race.
1. How do you plan to swing by the swinging balls?
"Billy: A burst from the chemical engine or a blast of corrosion will handle any balls."
2. How fast is the conveyor belt moving?
"Ian: My measurements, uh, say that the conveyer belt, um, uh, cannot be moving more than 10 miles an hour … chaos would ensue."
3. Do you see the flame thrower?
"See it? LET’S TAKE IT! Hedgehog’s are flammable to you know!"
4. How will your team respond to winning?
"RRRRREEEEEE! RETURN THE PRIZE MONEY TO THE GARAGE AND FUEL OUR EXTRACTION PROCESS!"
5. How will your team respond to not winning?
"Bah, it doesn’t matter, we have to purge Doof. Get to it boys!"
