Post by agent77 on Jan 26, 2018 7:10:48 GMT
>DATE: AUG 15 2022
>TIME: 02:45:11 PM EST
>LOCATION: UNKNOWN FOR NOW
"I can't feel my legs." That was the first thought I had when I woke up. I said it out loud for some reason--no one was in earshot, so it was pretty much pointless.
I groaned and attempted to move the relatively large mess of computer-generated 3D modeled LEGOs, wires, circuit boards and netcode that was blocking my circulation, but to no avail. I shook my head and took a look at my surroundings. I caught a glimpse of color--but no, nevermind, it flickered out practically immediately after. LEGO.COM was huge, so it could have been anything, from remnants of the long-gone Galleries to the recent rubble that was the site itself. That's when it all came flashing back, with all the force of a decent-sized explosion. My name was agent77--or was it? I had gone through many aliases over the years, it seemed. Never content with my identity due to insecurities that plagued the former "me's" of the past.
The next thing I remembered was how it all came crashing down--several economic failures along with LEGO's many shortcomings involving community interaction. Even the sets themselves--LEGO's core--had dwindled out, losing quality over the years. All that remained was the single giant, LEGO LIFE, towering over all the wreckage like a massive citadel... and even that was starting to crumble. I had seen it coming. I had left over five years ago--save for one short burst of activity where I posted one chapter of a story and left--so why was I back? It couldn't possibly be to save this place like some cliché action hero.
I wouldn't do anything cool like that in a million years, nor did I know how to.
Also, I still couldn't move. That was a major issue. Then I realized that, duh, I was a LEGO minifig. I would facepalm, but I'd like to avoid accidentally poking myself in the eye. I quickly unattached my legs from my body (which was remarkably less painful than it sounds) and crawled out of the wreckage. Now I had no legs, but that was better than being stuck. Now... to have a proper look around and (hopefully) find myself some new legs.
>TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT TRANSMISSION
>TIME: 02:45:11 PM EST
>LOCATION: UNKNOWN FOR NOW
"I can't feel my legs." That was the first thought I had when I woke up. I said it out loud for some reason--no one was in earshot, so it was pretty much pointless.
I groaned and attempted to move the relatively large mess of computer-generated 3D modeled LEGOs, wires, circuit boards and netcode that was blocking my circulation, but to no avail. I shook my head and took a look at my surroundings. I caught a glimpse of color--but no, nevermind, it flickered out practically immediately after. LEGO.COM was huge, so it could have been anything, from remnants of the long-gone Galleries to the recent rubble that was the site itself. That's when it all came flashing back, with all the force of a decent-sized explosion. My name was agent77--or was it? I had gone through many aliases over the years, it seemed. Never content with my identity due to insecurities that plagued the former "me's" of the past.
The next thing I remembered was how it all came crashing down--several economic failures along with LEGO's many shortcomings involving community interaction. Even the sets themselves--LEGO's core--had dwindled out, losing quality over the years. All that remained was the single giant, LEGO LIFE, towering over all the wreckage like a massive citadel... and even that was starting to crumble. I had seen it coming. I had left over five years ago--save for one short burst of activity where I posted one chapter of a story and left--so why was I back? It couldn't possibly be to save this place like some cliché action hero.
I wouldn't do anything cool like that in a million years, nor did I know how to.
Also, I still couldn't move. That was a major issue. Then I realized that, duh, I was a LEGO minifig. I would facepalm, but I'd like to avoid accidentally poking myself in the eye. I quickly unattached my legs from my body (which was remarkably less painful than it sounds) and crawled out of the wreckage. Now I had no legs, but that was better than being stuck. Now... to have a proper look around and (hopefully) find myself some new legs.
>TO BE CONTINUED IN NEXT TRANSMISSION
Sig by RomeNZ