"What Madness Is This?" Volume III: The Pinnacle Future
- Thread starter Napoleon53
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Crazymachines
Banned
@Napoleon53
I introduce to you the latest memetic brain worm from the discord: the cackalacky shitweasel
It's a dog closely related to the Dachshund, bred for the express purpose of unclogging sewer blockages in the bustling metropolises of CoCaro and the NUSA
I introduce to you the latest memetic brain worm from the discord: the cackalacky shitweasel
It's a dog closely related to the Dachshund, bred for the express purpose of unclogging sewer blockages in the bustling metropolises of CoCaro and the NUSA
There will be lots more! The chapters that are written from an history book viewpoint (not actual interactions between characters 1 on 1) get way more pictures because they just have much easier ways to incorporate pics.
Crazymachines
Banned
If you’re not careful and you noclip out of New Cackalacky in the wrong areas, you’ll end up in the Cheeserooms, where it’s nothing but a constant deluge of grundlelust, the fermented aroma of Carolinian mousewine, and the deranged fever dreams of a few antisocial history nerds as far as the eye can see
Also, I honestly used to use copious illustrations as (fun) padding, because in Vol. I, things went a lot faster and chapters were more frequent but far shorter, I'd say an average of 2k words. I average about 4k words now and sometimes go a lot higher.
The internet is not ready for such truth.
The internet is not ready for such truth.
Operation Endurence Climax... Invasion of CoCaro. But maybe is too the invasion of Cackalacky africa.
I'm pretty sure Enduring Climax is the ongoing war against South American guerillas, not an invasion of the Carolinas.
I think that's enduring climax but I see a invasion of cocaro as potential start of the downfall as all it mentions in last half of Two were about is miltrary being supirpsly good
A FRIGID EXCHANGE
"And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth?"
- Revelation 6:10
"Come, let us take a muster speedily. Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily."
- William Shakespeare
"The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires who believed they were eternal."
- Camille Paglia
"I am a jelly doughnut."
- Charles Oswald
A FRIGID EXCHANGE
General Peter Petty
It was the dawn of December 13, 1949, and a Z-49 Rollarite Dropship landed on an icy Russian airfield. The rotary blades of the rotund armored transport, emblazoned with the words "REPUBLICAN UNION," kicked up snow in every direction. Men in thick winter uniforms, boots, and fur hats scurried about the dilapidated landing zone, lining into a professional but miserable looking column. Heels clicked together, arms and shoulders locked, chins tilted up, and 30 soldiers of the Russian Illuminist People's Republic prepared for their American visitors. Their hatred for the Yankee barbarians knew no bounds, and the Yankees loathed the Slavic, Eastern, godless "Loomies" even more in turn, believing them to be subhuman mockeries of Jev's Creation. But this was no ordinary day, and no day to bear grudges. This was a day of momentous import to both countries, and if both sides behaved, everyone would walk away with what they wanted.- Revelation 6:10
"Come, let us take a muster speedily. Doomsday is near. Die all, die merrily."
- William Shakespeare
"The Earth is littered with the ruins of empires who believed they were eternal."
- Camille Paglia
"I am a jelly doughnut."
- Charles Oswald
A FRIGID EXCHANGE
General Peter Petty
As the blades of the dark blue dropship chopper began to wind to a halt, one of its side-doors began to open with a stutter. An American sergeant in the Office of Racial and Religious Affairs (ORRA) struggled to budge the frozen thing. The young man's uniform was of an equally naval hue as the chopper, and he sported a fur coat with a dramatic upturned collar and a heavily-polished large blue helmet, adorned with the chevron of his rank in the front and center.
After a few moments of awkward fiddling, a nearby Russian non-commissioned officer marched to the door with a bucket in hand, bright green fluid sloshing onto the white ground as he approached. "De-Icer. Stand back," the Russian man shouted in passable English over the noise of the engines, ice clinging to a prominent set of furrowed eyebrows. The American raised his eyebrows in return, regarding the "subhuman Slavic mockery" in disdain, but reluctantly allowing him to do as he wished.
With a splash, the de-icer stuck to the side of the Z-49, and the door and boarding ramp broke free of the frost and quickly went into the correct position. The ORRA sergeant hopped down to the ground and stood at attention, arms clasped behind his back, facing opposite his Illuminist counterpart, who still held the bucket of neon-colored carcinogens. Next to the Loomie sergeant stood several higher-ranking officers, both of whom looked as if they were straight from Moscow's People's Parliament, with their perfectly crisp uniforms, fat faces, and shivering frames. There was Moscow cold, and there was Alyeskan cold. Alyeskan cold was Siberian cold, but these officers were clearly not as adapted as their troops around them.
They came to attention in turn as another American appeared in the doorway of the dropship. This one wore a simple navy blue overcoat, thick winter gloves, and a black, old-fashioned cavalry hat with gold trim. His face was square to the extreme and his piercing blue eyes darted about as he nervously loosened and tightened his grip on the suitcase in his left hand. He was General Peter Petty, a son of the great state of Texas, and he turned to the Colonel Audhild standing behind him. Seeing the young Colonel was feeling obviously intimidated, Petty tried to offer some advice. "This ain't my first rodeo, Colonel. I have delivered these packages to the Loomies before. I know it's awkward and downright uncomfortable to be a pilgrim in an unholy land and all, but stand tall and don't let them get you. A man of my Pinnacle fluidation, by the grace of Jev Almighty, can take on fifteen of these Infee bastards and come out on top. They are just as afraid of us--if not more--than we are of them."
Audhild, a gaunt man of Norwegian extraction and lily-white features, nodded, his blue helmet bobbling slightly and icy breath streaming from his flaring nostrils as he made a nervous but determined exhale. "If you aren't back from the deal in an hour, we're taking out this whole field and then sending all of Mother Russia back to the stone age. The boys back on the carrier are standing by, sir. Jev be with you."
"And with you, Colonel," Petty replied as they both saluted. "See you in sixty minutes."
With that, Petty disembarked down the steps and Audhild watched skeptically as his superior and the Russian exchanged formal greetings and salutes. It was beneath any man of American blood to salute these savages, but such things were necessary on a mission such as this. All of Alyeska was at stake. In exchange for some mere trifles and baubles from the vast archive of President Charles Oswald's artifact collection, these Loomies were willing to sign away their rights to the last piece of the Western Hemisphere not yet under the official control of the Republican Union.
"Welcome to New Arkhangelsk, General Petty," said the Russian. "I am General Dmitiri Nikitin." A fur hat with a stylized All-Seeing Eye pinned in the front and center sat atop his balding, gray head. "I trust you have brought the item we seek?"
"Salutations, sir," Petty replied. General Petty was pleased the Russian officer who greeted him spoke near-perfect English, but he didn't recognize him from past visits. Part of the terms for their negotiations to take place at all was that he would not have to "debase" himself by speaking a Slavic tongue. But this was not the Loomie he was used to dealing with. "Nikitin? Where is General Zaitsev, the man I usually deal with?" Petty asked as they began their march to the command center of the airfield.
Nikitin rubbed his hands together for warmth, despite his horsehide gloves rendering that effectively symbolic. He answered the query promptly and bluntly, without emotion. "General Zaitsev was assassinated by partisans yesterday. I am his replacement."
"Partisans? People's Front? Free Alyeska? Which group?" Petty inquired nonchalantly, verbally barraging the Russian with the names of Alyeska's various separatist groups and terrorist fronts. For decades, Alyeska, a former Russian penal and gold-mining colony, had become a hotbed of anti-Illuminist behavior. The rise of the so-called "Maximoviks" in Moscow, under their eccentric leader Vadim Maximovich, didn't help matters either.
The portly Russian shrugged his shoulders and he shook his head. "I do not know. All of them took credit. The last victim of this forsaken realm, it is my hope. Cursed be the day that Russian feet trod upon this cursed land." As they walked, he waved his arm at the dilapidated base and the snow drifts all about for emphasis. "I hated Ukraine. I spent five winters in Kiev in the last decade. I spent years in Siberia for several years after that. But nothing has given me the same wretched feeling in my gut that this place gives me. It is cursed."
"Oh, come on, General, surely you don't believe in such things as curses? If Jev our God does not exist, according to y'all and your peculiar and atheistic logic, why would a curse?" Petty asked smugly, a cold grin stretching across his cold lips. If he was to be stuck talking to Infees, he was going to get under their skin as much as diplomatically possible. He viewed this man, his Russian counterpart, as lower than a swine. But just like at the Meat Mountain Ranch packing plant, where Petty had gotten his first job as a slaughterman in the pens, sometimes it was fun to play with the piggies before their doom.
"Alyeska was cursed by the ancient Prometheans. Surely you see the news and reports out of this damnable place?" Nikitin replied spitefully.
As they strode into the relative warmth of the tiny, antiquated command center and kicked the snow off their boots, the American said, "I do not believe in these so-called Prometheans, General. Nor does any person of logical and sound mind. Your people are alone in this matter, thanks to your Equal Citizen."
After an adjutant hung their coats up on a nearby rack, the two generals proceeded to a large desk surrounded by rusty filing cabinets. A portrait of the Equal Citizen was nailed up over peeling yellow-green wallpaper, flanked by vertical blood-red Illuminist Owl banners hanging on either side. As Nikitin plopped down in the cracked leather seat and accepted a cup of hot coffee from a secretary, a thin woman who looked positively miserable in every sense of the word, he motioned for his American nemesis to sit on the wooden chair facing him. A name placard on the desk still bore the name "Zaitsev." Nikitin took a sip of the coffee and retorted by saying in a reverent tone, "The Equal Citizen is a genius. He is unlocking the secrets of the universe itself. He has given us cold, hard facts that make much more sense than dancing around with a poisonous serpent or seeing ghosts at Valley Forge, General Petty."
"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, General. But it sounds to me that in your egalitarian paradise some equal citizens are more 'equal' than other," Petty smirked as he heaved the suitcase onto the desk and began fiddling with the lock mechanism, rolling the numbers back and forth. "Tell me, General Nikitin, what does your party, your government, your people, believe in? Do they believe these Prometheans were, or perhaps still are, deities? In your experience?"
After another sip of black coffee and a sigh, Nikitin, fingers forming a steeple, answered, "No. There are no deities in Illuminism. There is the People, united in their quest to become as gods through knowledge and understanding of the universe and the cosmos. We believe in equality, pride, science, and progress."
"Are you a god now?" Petty snorted.
"No. We do not become literal gods. There are no gods in our ways of thinking. We become like unto the understanding of gods. Anything which is sufficiently advanced would seem like sorcery a century ago--like the vehicle you flew in on, or the nuclear weapons your country heaves onto the remains of the Neutrality Pact. We are steadily marching toward our goal of paradise on earth, when the Enlightenment will make the last ten thousand years of human history look like stone-slinging barbarism that it is."
"So you believe this idea?" the American asked yet another question as he drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and sparked one to life with a pocket lighter. "This sounds an awful lot like faith. And this Equal Citizen y'all prop up on a pedestal... he sounds like a prophet of sort to you fellas. In my opinion, everyone believes in somethin'. Everybody worships somethin'. Or someone. And for a society where they view equality as key and every man shall become as a god, it sounds like some of you ascend to that status a lot faster than others through the barrel of a gun."
Nikitin frowned heavily and removed his gloves. Opening a drawer in his desk, he took out a bottle of vodka and poured some into a small glass and took a sip. "No. The people love the Equal Citizen. He is selfless. Just because we believe in self-fulfillment and constant improvement doesn't mean we have no respect for wise men like him. We chose him by vote. Something your people have never seemed able to handle. Byron said last century that Russia would be the last country to adopt a democratic and equality-centered system. He blamed this on your nation's snuffing of democracy in its cradle. Your people had a chance for true freedom. And now look at you. Governed by a hereditary dictator and a cadre of his bootlickers."
"General Nikitin, it is ingrained into our American way of life that our leaders, if too weak, inept, or spineless for the job, can be removed and replaced by armed patriots. We chose our system. We believe in our system, by damn," the American proclaimed before taking a drag off his Morton. "I know Ukraine didn't choose Vadim. I know Poland and Finland didn't either. Hell, I believe the people of Alyeska here just made their feelin's quite clear to your late predecessor. And so you are still a true believer in this ancient spacemen and 'Enlightenment' gobbledygookski?"
"I do not believe in anything but progress and scientific fact. The facts revealed by the Equal Citizen are irrefutable and agreed upon by the leading scientists of our day." The Russian followed his opinion by shotgunning the rest of the glass of vodka.
"I believe, through faith now, that Jev set up the Pinnacle Man as Lord of the Earth. I believe that recent events prove correct the words of the Prophet Burr... as facts," Petty declared as he crossed his legs, leaned back, and smugly blew out some smoke. "And they are agreed upon by the leading scientists of our day. Sounds to me like y'all got more in common with us than y'all realize, but don't let me stop you from worshiping the little equal green men, or whatever it is you heathen do nowadays."
"We are nothing alike. And one day even your people will realize the truth of Illuminism, of science, of rational thought, and they will rise up and take what is rightfully theirs from the hands of your aristocracy and ruling class."
Petty was proving his last name apt. "And yet, here we are, with you about to sign away and transfer your nation's ownership of the vast holdings of Alyeska to my own."
"We do not fucking want this land, American," the Russian officer said with spite, his spittle visible in the air, lit up with the rays of morning sunshine peeking through the windows of the command center. "There are creatures here older than time itself. There are animals which can rip your intestines out and wrap them around your throat. There is darkness for sometimes four months, sometimes six months, and there is nothing left here worth the effort of holding onto. You are welcome to it. And I hope this place is a graveyard for you and your imperialist benefactors."
"I welcome the change in climate. I have spent ten years in a tropical graveyard, and I can assure you that your tales of monsters and beasts frighten me none. I have seen what men are capable of, and it's far worse than any monster or bugaboo y'all scream into the wind about," Petty declared before turning his attention back to the suitcase. After lining the numbers up to "1-7-7-6," the clasps shot out of their sockets and the whole thing opened up. Inside, wrapped in cloth and resting in foam, was an elongated human skull made of pure crystal. "Anyway, General Nikitin, I am sure you will be pleased by this acquisition, as will your 'equal' masters. The final crystal skull currently in American hands. All yours, to do whatever the hell you please with as long as you fellows get the hell out of this Hemisphere. Use it as a paperweight, transmute piss to gold with it--hell, y'all can take turns stuffing your peckers into the sockets for all we give a damn."
Nikitin reverently grasped the skull as he leaned across the desk and lifted it from the American's hands. He marveled at its beauty and precision, as well as--to a Maximovik like himself--its cosmic significance. "Wonderful. I can almost forget I am talking to an imperialist pig while in the presence of the crystalline skull of a true Promethean! I am sure my late predecessor saw many of these in your transactions with him, but I have never before beheld such a thing of beauty."
"So we're finished then? I'll have you know you are on a timer before my boys back on the carrier get antsy and start a-wonderin' where General Petty is."
"What?"
"Yep," said the Texan, grinning menacingly. "If I'm not back in another thirty minutes, they are going to open fire on this 'city' until there is nothing left."
The Russian sat the skull down and sighed. "You Americans. Always trying to throw your weight around with guns and machismo. We had a deal, and we still do. Illuminists keep their word, no matter what. You are free to leave. I will see to it that this skull is taken to Moscow directly. Kindly, get the fuck out of my office, and out of my sight."
The American rose to his feet, adjusted his coat, and gave a mock salute. "Thank you, General Nikitin. I'll be sure to have this place fumigated and bulldozed once you pull out. I appreciate the stimulating conversation." With that, he slapped the empty suitcase shut, stowed it under his arm, and adjusted his hat before heading to the door. As it swung open with a squeak and the frigid outside air blew in, he turned once more to the Russian and said, "I sometimes talk to my cat and dog at my home. And sometimes to my horse. But you are the only animal who has ever been able to actually carry on a conversation." The son of Texas smiled wickedly, stepped outside, and slammed the door behind him.
Nikitin sat back in his chair and gazed into the empty eyes of the crystal skull. He needed more vodka.
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Can't believe I'm rooting for the Ancap USSR to have more survivors in the full exchange.
I hate you
Looking forward to the double purified Herkimer diamonds
A 3 years time skip, I wonder what else happens in Oswald's NUSA during that time.
I thought that illumist were somewhat sane my mistake tsar Victor where art though and I want know what Bourbons are my bet are a Bourbon kingdom in China somewhere
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