ComicalMayhem

Her right thumb appears to be another finger instead of a thumb and also sort of morphs a bit into the pointer finger. It almost looks like it wanted to generate six fingers on her left hand but didn't. The chair has 5 legs and the concrete uhh curb I guess stops being a thing behind her and then it's just floor and railing.

Also two cups of coffee lmao

otherwise really good generation.

ok but why does carakota go kinda hard

can we just go back to Homestuck-esque typing quirks?

To quote DBZa's Android 16:

"But there you stand, the good man, doing nothing. And while evil triumphs, and your rigid pacifism crumbles into blood-stained dust, the only victory afforded to you is that you stuck true to your guns."

Life isn't some black and white fair tale story where if you stick to your guns hard enough everything will turn out ok. Sometimes you have to abandon your principles to protect them.

Bro would hate chess

what the fuck is that symbol

A sudden urge to kill a foolishly dressed alleged comedian fills you to the brim. Unfortunately, there is none in the room with you. You'd have to find him before you can kill him, but you have your objective in mind. The first question is how you're going to get out of here. The front door is locked, and the only hint of a key is the shitty drawing on the floor. Ha ha. Very funny, whoever put that there. What's worse is that there's no weapons here. To kill someone, you'd need something to kill them with. Well, you could do with your bare hands, but it's much easier with a tool of some sorts, and the cabin is strangely absent of tools suitable for the act of murder.

You whisper the ultimate cat call. It echoes over the empty cabin; nothing happens, and a profound sense of loss washes over you. You walk over to the shelf by the window and run your hand over it, staring at the one particularly worn spot on it for a moment. You walk over and check the litter box, but of course it's clean. It always is nowadays. Old habits die hard after all. You cook yourself some breakfast and take a seat at the table, and try the call again. Nothing happens, as expected, not even when you open a can of tuna. Old habits die hard, but they die eventually. You spread the tuna on your bread and eat your meal, alone in the silence.

When you go to examine the bookshelf, you realize it's not actually a bookshelf, but a painting on the wall designed to look exactly like a set of bookshelves from precisely the perspective you were formally at. Oddly enough, all of the titles are books you have read before, but none are ones you're currently reading.

The squirrels. They've been your sworn enemy ever since you moved here, always raiding your pantry and gardens, but this latest ploy is befuddling. What use would a band of squirrels have for an anvil? And when did they learn to write? And how did they even move the anvil? It's a deeply perplexing puzzle, quite a pickle you found yourself in. To be safe, you figure you ought to double check everything you own; maybe the anvil wasn't the only thing they had taken...

Food: ooooooxxxx

Water: oooooooooo

Firewood: oooooooox

Ore & minerals: ooooxxxxxx

Anvils: 0/10

Hammer: 10/10

You whip up a large breakfast, fit for a hobbit's first breakfast: eggs, bacon, toast, fruit mix, cereal and yogurt and milk, orange juice and a small brownie for desert. Before long the scent washes over the entire cabin and your belly grumbles in anticipation. You sit down to feast and enjoy the fatty, savory meats and the crisp and buttered toast, the fluffy eggs and the sugary cereal and milk.

All incredibly filling, you pat your nearly bloated stomach, satisfied with the meal. You emerge onto the porch for a quick smoke of the herb, letting the floating sensation wash over you as you watch the trees sway in the wind and the dew twinkle on the grass. By now it's practically afternoon, just about time for second breakfast. Then again, you do have to tend to your farms and gardens; all this food comes from somewhere, no?

Breakfast had: 1/?

Pipes smoked: 1/30

Food stores: oooooxxxxx

You try the door, but find it locked. There doesn't seem to be any locking mechanism on the inside, only a keyhole. Whoever designed this door obviously intended it to keep things inside instead of out. From the window, you try to shift your viewpoint in hopes the name will reveal itself from a different angle, but no dice. Even the windows themselves seem to be locked. You're stuck, unable to escape from this cabin. You could even say that you're cabin stuck.