Stuckhome RP (OPEN)

A young Johsn stands in Joshn's bedroom. It just so happens that today, the 13th of April, 2009, is this young Joshn's birthday. Though it was thirteen years ago Joshn was given life, it is only today Joshn will be given a name!

What will the name of this young Joshn be?

> Enter name.
> Zoosmell Pooplord.
> S-sure... or Joshn Egbe rt... if th-that's okay with you, Reader-Senpai.

You are JOSHN. You enjoy BIRTHDAY. You enjoy CAKE. You detest INTERESTS. You enjoy eating REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES. Eating awful MOVIES causes you SEVERE INTESTINAL DISTRESS and CHRONIC INTERNAL BLEEDING. You enjoy SEVERE INTESTINAL DISTRESS and CHRONIC INTERNAL BLEEDING. You want to 1337 HAXX0R, but you cannot 1337 H4XXOR. You like PARAPLEGIC LORE, and aspire to be a HOMELESS MAN on the street that performs magic for young children who are then taken away from you by their mothers.  You also HATE GAMES. GAMES do not taste nearly as good as MOVIES.

What will you do?

> Joshn: Do a 1337 H4XX.

You fail to 1337 HAXX.

> Joshn: I SAID, do a 1337 H4XX.

You fail to 1337 HAXX... again.

> Johsn: Equip arms.

You eat your arms off. They tasted delicious. You then put on new arms. They are however mannequin arms.

> Johsn: Shit like an imbecile and shit on your shit.

You apply extra shit to your previously created pile of shit.

> Joshn: Do a dance.

You dance. It is a good dance.

> Joshn: Do a 1337 H4XX.

No.

You suddenly hear a startling pesterchum coming from Notification.

> I actually want Joshn to dance some more.

Oh, you want Joshn to dance do you?

...

I said, do you want Joshn to daaaance?!

> Nope.

Oh, okay, I'm sorry.

> All is forgiven.

Thank you.

> Joshn: Die a heroic death.

Wait, what? What does that even mean? I mean, I know what it means, but it doesn't make sense. It would only make sense if and ONLY IF,

1.) Joshn godtiered.
2.) He did something heroic or some clock bullshit happens.
3.) Something lethal happened to him.
4.) The kid actually put the CD in the CD slot.
5.) That the kid even had the CD even remotely close to him.

Well, I mean, I guess you can die heroically even if you didn't godtier, but it just literally doesn't make a difference whatsoever.

Honestly, not a single word of this should make sense to you. Nothing about this is anything you should know about. I am just in complete awe of how you predicted the story.

So, no! Joshn is not going to die. Oh... Joshn's dead... How did that kid even die? I didn't write the kid to die and I'm the narrator.

Uh, I'm going to go find this out...

Your name is JAM. You have just woken from a restful nap, and as usual, you have no recollection OF FALLING ASLEEP CUZ THATS FOR WEEKLINGS! You have quite a number of INTERESTS. So many in fact, THAT YOU HAVE MORE THEN THE GUY OVER THERE DOSE, and you have trouble keeping track of them all, even with an assortment of COLORFUL REMINDERS on your PAWS to help you sort out everything on your mind, IT MORE HAS TO DO WITH YOUR DISABILITYS THEN IT DOSE YOUR INTRESTS and yet there still is never enough PAWS for all of them... Nevertheless, when you spend time in your CRAFT ROOM, the only thing on your mind is your deep passion for FURRYS. 

What will you do?

Your name is VRESKA SURSKIT

You are a master of EXTREME POKEMON. You can't get enough of it, or really any game of animal breeding and fighting that involves monsters that may or may not fit in your pocket. But they do have to fit in your pocket, there is no budging on this. But then again, you don't have much choice.

Your lusus is a MUTHAFUCKING SEAKING, FUCK YEA. he can only find joy by FUCK YEAING ON ANY LOCATION THAT CATCHES HIS FANCY. You wonder around, playing and crushing, utilizing your abilities to ENACT GLORIOUSLY SUBTLE PLANS AGAINST THE EASILY FOOOOOOOOLED. Your victories supply you with EVs, friendship, and FUCK YEAH SEAKING LOCATIONS.

You are something of an SHELL WORSHIPING NUT, which is something you can be on Differntia. You are enthralled by the prophecies and declarations of a plastic toy and a fossil, and enjoy constructing FOLLOWING THEIR COMMANDS for the hell of it. You are drawn to means of LEGITIMATELY ALTERING THE RULES and the advantages they offer, particularly in gaming scenarios. Your abilities in this department were hobbled with the loss of your MAGIC CONCH, but you have since obtained an alternative through the sacred HELIX FOSSIL. You consult with this ominous rock, but routinely fantasize about giving it life For its DIVINE TRUE FORM TO SPEAK of their predictions. Until then, you have developed into a habit of trying to figure out the secrets of those around you, AND TOTALLY KEEPING THEM AND NOT TELLING PEOPLE EVERYTHING ABOUT IT ON ACCIDENT. It's a tough job, being such a good secret keeper, but of course you are the best at it.

==> Vreska: Poke the Jam mon

You stare into the void, not really understanding that nonsense, the light music of the game in your hands still playing as you sat calmly. Your nuzlocke run had been going, but it may have been time to take a break, likely do what you were actually supposed to be doing, according to kitkat that is.

With a sigh, you turn to your device, and send a notification to the person that was now your target, since the last one sorta died for no reason...

AG: Heeeeeeeey, You there?
AG: Jam?

[S] Jam: Play a silly flute refrain

If this is what you want then sure. After pealing a few peaces of fur off your face where the glue had dried during your nap you stand and picked up her flut and began to play.

>Your not half bad!

Your not, you really enjoy your flut! But as you began to play ones more, you hear a familiar purr, purrr. Your I-Fur!
Someone's notificating you.

How bother some you were working on your fur suit..

>check your notifications.

You take out your I-Fur. Who, oh, okay...


AG: Heeeeeeeey, You there?
AG: Jam?

GG: I am here, I was napping.
GG: What's going on?