ask-cybug-ralph

[ask-cybug-ralph]

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[ask-cybug-ralph]

Somewhere, in the far corners of the digital realm, wedding bells ring, and a monster remembers home.

He tells his friends they’re tears of joy, but they know.

[ask-cybug-ralph]

There was a silence at the treehouse in the gnarled Marshmallow Swamp; one that had been there every day in spurts of an hour or two, but only now did it truly feel empty, devoid of presence. Deep, sunken holes, once footprints, had long been filled with shed sweets from the trees above, their maker having not treaded there in a while. The surrounding forest had had its time to grow back, branches expanding once more and letting off a peppermint or grape syrup scent as the sap oozed out to mend their wounds.

The hills were settled, no uprooting of gumdrop boulders or scattering of sprinkle fields, nor the flattening of lollipop trees or crushing of cacti from colossal passers-by and whisk-mills stood tall, spinning uninterrupted in the wind as they generated power. The factory worked on, oblivious to the world around it that simply let it be, sickly syrups dripping into the water below it after a long day of kart-making and colorful plumes of smoke from its stacks. There were no alarms, and no need to be.

The tracks were being torn up, not by mighty beasts of rage, but by drifting wheels and projectiles missing their targets, the sounds of revving engines spouting puffs of confetti in distress as one was finally struck by a flying scoop of ice cream. ‘A la mode!’ a voice echoes over the track excitedly as the driver’s car slid to a stop at the side of the road. The voice belongs to a small fellow back at the starting line, one of thousands of candy-coated faces who lived to watch the show go on.

The ice cream peaks, cold, imposing, and colorful as they were, sat in total silence. Rock candy shrubs managed to eke out a living in the gently falling powdered sugar, their flavors a mystery in their lack of color that blended right in with the rest of the vanilla snow. As a gentle breeze blew, a marshmallow rabbit curiously hopped toward the road, looking for refuge; it turned and fled as the faint roar of little engines drew closer, soon passing by the very place it once stood and disappearing into a dark cave, child-like cackles of delight as fantasies of the first place trophy played in the driver’s head. The rabbit was the only wandering creature there; for the longest time, it’s all that ever had.

On the far western edge of the island of sweets and confections, past the Peppermint pines, over the gumdrop hills, far away from the tracks and distinct from the ice cream peaks, stood a solid bridge of every hue visible to the naked eye. At its base stood a sign, whose message read to those heading toward it read as, “Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow… COME BACK SOON!”, so pleasant yet disappointed to see its reader go. The path leading up to it was steep, as though the very incline itself was discouraging one from leaving such a sweet and colorful world, the colorful bridge itself a reminder of what they’d be leaving behind. At the top, it leveled out and disappeared into a mountain made of waffle cone, whose peak looked dipped in chocolate and covered in sprinkles the size of a school bus.

At the cave mouth stood a man –nay, a cy-bug reminiscent of a man who once found his home in the land beyond the cave’s gate— looking out to the world. He’d called this game home for nearly two and a half years, though the cy-bug was anything but native to it. After fighting to stay alive in such a long time span, the cybrid found himself so… There wasn’t a word that came to his mind other than ‘tired’. He wished he could stay, continue to call it home, deceive himself into a false purpose for others’ sake, but he wasn’t sure he could anymore. This world –Sugar Rush- simply wasn’t a place he could stay and live with himself. Perhaps he couldn’t even do that. Though he’d not done much with his life in those two years, he had considered himself done. His time here was at an end. Cy-bug Ralph didn’t know where he was headed once he’d forced himself through the gate’s barrier. Maybe into the jaws of death, maybe into a whole new life for himself, perhaps the exact same life somewhere else- he couldn’t know. Goodbyes were far too painful, and he hadn’t the will to face the few he’d known for so long and do so.

The theme of the game, so upbeat and cheery, echoed through the air from large speakers near a lake by the palace, putting a beat to the energy of the game. The only real change to the scene was that there was one less person to hear it.

((Sorry folks, but lately I just... I haven’t been feeling the love for this blog anymore. Not in a while. Sure, the roleplays were fun, and events were pretty exciting, but even with the plans I have for Ralph, things have been really... Really slow and repetitive for a while now. Cyralph doesn’t do anything beyond wander around and hold casual conversation, he never feels any emotion other than boredom or mild happiness or irritation, or even leaves Sugar Rush- and when he does, he always simply rushes back in for one reason or another.

That isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy roleplaying, or that the RPers that I’m interacting with are bad or anything, not at all! It’s just that... well, wreckingduty, ask-fairy-morgan, tempus-felis, alex-the-nonsensologist, and askjasperbattjr -five people- are the only ones who ever say anything anymore. I honestly don’t have any plans after the wedding/honeymoon for Cyralph, and I can’t just keep bringing up more cy-bug invasions or throw him right into other people’s stories for excitement factor.

I think... Well, if not a hiatus, I think I should probably call it quits with Ralph. The blog won’t be deleted, so all the roleplays are there to read over again. I just don’t really feel the muse anymore, and replies are more like obligations than they are fun, and I don’t want my interactions with other characters to be forced for courtesy purposes. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed any watchers, and I mean no offense to the few who do roleplay with me, but I think it’s time I moved on.))

[ask-cybug-ralph]

He slowed at her question, confused about why she might bring up his temperament until he laid eyes on the door. She could almost see the color drain from his face at the sight of it as his foot slipped on a step, nearly sending him to the floor as he tripped and narrowly avoided tumbling down the stairs. “Oh. Uh. That-that was an accident. I tripped, I-I-I meant no...” The prince couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was too busy trying to avoid looking at her. He made his way to the top of the stairway and promptly bowed his head, like some big child waiting to be scolded, or whipped, or receive some kind of reprimand. “I do believe I had mad mention to my... issues of grace?”

Off The Woodland Path (AU rp, closed)

[ask-cybug-ralph]

He chuckled and patted her hip, moving down the beach. “Woman o’ simple tastes, huh? I can’t object to that.” He kept going for quite a ways, trying to find the spot that was just right for them as he walked along the part of the shore that would wash away his tracks. He really only had one criteria for where they got married: somewhere where unwanted guests wouldn’t barge in on them.

He found their cliffside beach, a ledge dropping off to a wide stretch of colorful sand whose view was barred from the rest of the game. To him, it was perfect, even if there were some rather unbecoming gobstopper clusters sticking out of the honeycomb candy walls. “How do you feel about this place? Maybe early mornin’ so we’ve got the sun out of our eyes?” Of course, the game’s sun very rarely set, if ever, but it circled around the sky in a way that may put them in the shade if they timed it right.

“Exactly! And I know there are some beach cliffs, I mean there are by the entrance!” He waved a hand toward the western chocolate dipped cone mountains, the rainbow bridge leading up and out of the game scarcely visible. “But uh, let’s not have it near there. I’m sure there are other places.” He gently rested a hand on Morgan’s hip as he turned and looked around; there wasn’t anywhere with clear cover nearby as the whole island sloped into the sea. “Maybe we should o’ landed closer to some hills. “I mean, do you want an open, on-the-beach wedding?”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

Ralph joins in the chuckling, “Yeah, we definitely deserve a good drink after that.” He wasn’t expecting his friend to say that they’d get stopped again, he figured that they were free and clear after being investigated once. He exhales slightly, then smiles, “Nah, it’s been a long time since I’ve spent any time in the Station, wonder if it’s changed since then.” He wouldn’t mind walking around the hub, usually when he passed through, he was either in a hurry or trying to be stealthy and not noticed. It’d be nice to just be able to walk around without worrying about anything. He walks with the other Ralph, nodding, “Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it. I don’t mind callin’ you it, if you want.” It’d be a little odd getting used to the new name, but it shouldn’t be too difficult, it fit his friend rather nicely.

“It’d certainly fix the whole, ‘Hi Ralph!’, ‘oh which Ralph, the Hero’s Duty Ralph or the Fix-it Felix Jr Ralph that got unplugged?’ problem.” They started to walk, and beyond the occasional tiny bypasser trying not to get stepped on, nobody really looked their way. It was around four am, and people were bustling back and forth as they usually did during evening hours. The second half of the evening was the worst, as everyone more or less had woken up from sleep and getting out and about before opening. Some didn’t sleep at all, and Ralph -well, Big Red- would’ve counted himself among those sleepless characters.

He used to come to the station almost every night, but something about the station felt new, or at least nostalgic. It didn’t change the fact that he probably could navigate it blindfolded (keyword probably), but everything about their visit to the place -golden gateways, high white plug facades whose faces were slightly browned with age, bronze ceiling arches with tiny porthole windows sending pillars of light down to the polished, brown floor and circuit rugs dotted here and there with metal benches- brought back memories. Ones both pleasant and unpleasant seemed to flash through his mind, and as he and Space Cadet meandered across the station, he started to wonder when the last time he really stopped to pay attention to all the little details was.

“There’s a lot about this place that, even after thirty two years of living here, you still never notice unless you really look, huh? So many nooks and crannies for small folks to hide, so many games comin’ and going, so many folks that’ve been here askin’ for help after losin’ their livelihoods...” The cogs turned in his head, and as he looked back toward Q*Bert and friends with their signs, he noticed a couple of new game characters with them, holding signs of their own.

“...Doesn’t really mean a whole lot to be free here, does it?” His tone softened a bit. “Yer whole game life, you start wondering if maybe you could do something different, something new, be able to choose to have some time away from it and do what you want, when you want. Then when you get it,” He looked to Space Cadet pointedly, “you realize that there’s no livin’ outta your role. I’m led to believe players can do that- pick new roles if they lose their old ones, do something new. Imagine if we could do that here.”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

'Alex' nods, "Alright then, your forearm it is. Easier to reach, and hey, the spikes can prevent it from slipping off too." He takes one of the harnesses and kindly asks Ralph to lower his arm.

He did as he was asked, keeping it low to the ground while Alex worked. “Thanks pal,” He said, smiling softly. “Means a lot to me.”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

✢ ⋆ ✰ ✧

[ask-cybug-ralph]

It’s hard to tell how the situation is going, the Space Cadet stands nearly stone-still as he waits for the Surge Protector’s reaction. It seems like it takes forever for him to respond, but it was probably just a few moments. When they’re asked if there’s anything to declare, he shakes his head, while the big guy gives a vocal answer. For once, that was the complete truth, they weren’t bringing anything with them from Sugar Rush. The silence after that was nearly overwhelming. There was no sound, no expression on the Surge Protector’s face, nothing. Was he going to let them continue? Or would they be prevented from going anywhere in the arcade. But, finally, the quiet is shattered and the Surge Protector moves along. With both Ralphs exhaling at approximately the same time, it probably sounds like a small storm passing through. The Space Cadet gives a weary grin to his friend, “Well, we’ve made it this far.” While it had been rather stressful, in the end, it seems like things had worked out.

“If I didn’t need that root beer before, huh?” Ralph chuckled, trying to drown out his internal screaming. “You know, he’s gonna stop us again at Tapper’s, do we really need to go in a game right away?” The man wasn’t sure he could deal with two consecutive close calls, as his luck always had him getting stopped without fail by Surge everywhere he went; it nearly discouraged him from ever leaving before he’d been eaten.

He slowly took a couple of steps down the station. “Huh. You know, Big Red doesn’t sound half bad, you know? Everyone just calls me ‘big guy’, ‘darling’, or ‘other king’, but I feel like those are kinda either too specific, or too general- there’s a LOT of big guys in this arcade.”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

.....Sounds like something a bird would say.

SO, COME HERE.                       I’M H U͖̹N̫̹͢G̬̱̘͘R̺̝Y̲.͈

[ask-cybug-ralph]

“I dunno, I mean, is there really a bug that fits everyone, that’s all. Some kids are harder to pick one for, that’s all. What about recolors?”

“No no, ‘m good.” He let out a puff of air from his nose. “Like I said, I think I’m full, an’ that’s fine. Good to know I have a limit.” He looked over at Icarus as the cogs turned in his head. “…You think you can find a different bug for each kid, though?”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

'Alex' shrugs, "I'm sure I can find something that'll work. Lemme see." It takes him a little longer this time for him to rummage through his bag for the right things. He finally retrieves what looks like absurdly long belts, "I could attach a bag onto your arm with these harnesses. Wanna give it a try?"

“Sure, but what part of my arm are we tying it to exactly?” Ralph reached around to see if there was a part of his arm that he couldn’t reach with his bulky frame, and sure enough his uppermost arms and shoulders were just barely out of his grasp. “Might wanna put it further down than here.”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

The Space Cadet’s eyes dart between his friend and the Surge Protector, he wants to make sure that everything goes well and that he doesn’t miss a thing. As he listens and watches, his mind is working, trying to figure out how they can get out of this without causing too much of a mess or a scene. So far, everything’s gone better than he expected, the other Ralph’s nervousness could be attributed to him being a new character, like he had mentioned. When the big guy brings him into the conversation, he throws himself into the part, giving the other Ralph a hearty pat on the back as he responded, “That…that’s right! Since he’s new, I figured I’d show him around. Thought I’d start with Tapper’s, you can’t beat the root beer there, right?” He’d had a little time to prepare, working with the story his friend had started, he just hoped that it was good enough. Fortunately, it seemed that his military training had helped him think little quicker on his feet than if he hadn’t had that kind of backstory. He’s got no idea if the Surge Protector recognizes him, either from when he was in Hero’s Duty, from the Space Marines putting out alerts for him being a traitor, or from them finally giving him permission to roam the arcade, there were plenty of opportunities he would’ve had to learn his name and face. He’d rather that the Surge Protector didn’t realize who he was, it seemed like that’d be simpler.

Surge was highly skeptical, but he couldn’t really see “Big Red”s face from how much further down he was. He knew Space Cadet, but also knew all the reports -good and bad- he’d gotten about him. “Alright, and anything to declare?”

Ralph could hear it in his voice that the guy didn’t trust or believe them, but he didn’t know which specifically was the case. He swallowed. “N-no.” There was a tense pause between the three of them for the longest time, waiting for some kind of follow-up question or for Surge to leave.

“Alright then,” the guard said rather flatly, “move along.” He took several steps away before vanishing in a flash, and Ralph let out the breath he didn’t realize he could hold in the first place.

[ask-cybug-ralph]

I’m sorry, all I heard was this

OHhh, YOU CAN DO BETTER THAN THAT…..

I FEED ON  DA҉T̵̲͈͇ͅA, C҉̼͎̥̦̞̹̙O̩̥̤͕DE, INFORMATION,, THE FLICKERING BUZZ IN THE WIREss. I GO҉͓͍̜̭̲͖R͕̫GE ON THE LIFEFORCE OF DIGITAL CIVILIZATIOn aaND ASSIMILAT҉͇̳E̟̬͖͓̥̯͘ IT, PERFECT IT INTO GO҉̻͙̺D͠HOOD                                                                                    SURELY YOU CAN THINK OF SOMETHINg, SOME SORT OF WORTHY SACRIFICE TO sssOOTHE MY  WANT ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡ ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ ,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ yyyOU ARE SO GLAD TO SEE ME BACK, AREN’t you? YOU CARE_

SO SHOW ME YOUR WORSHIP. BE CREA҉̦̰̤̻͖T̼̼̯̝IVE!   PLAYERs, OFFER ME UP WHATEVER ELECTRONICS YOU OWN, aS MEAGER A MEAL AS IT MAY BE. SPRITES, SELL OUT YOUR GAMEs. V I҉̖̩̮͕̯͍R̼̣̻̦̰USES, THROW YOURSELF DOWN MY THROATs              OR,,,                                                                                                 ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ ,̷͇̼̗̖̭͔̖͔͡,̶̷̢̻̩̜̬̤̲̺̭̗̱͘͡ SOME OF YOU, players, ARE ssO PROUD OF YOUR ABILITY TO hhOP THE REALMS. WHY, I GET MESSAGES ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME! hhOW TOUGH YOU ARE, hhOW YOU’lL COME IN HERe AND SUPERSEDE THE RULES OF THIS REALITY SO EASILY! SO, COME HERE.                       I’M H U͖̹N̫̹͢G̬̱̘͘R̺̝Y̲.͈

[ask-cybug-ralph]

'Alex' nods, "Yup! Easy to use, and no catch. Well, other than limited supply, of course. But there should be enough for you to use." He nods solemnly, "Ah yes, someplace to keep them on hand. Since it's you, it would have to be something simple but secure, and I don't think your hair's it. Hmmm, what would you say to having an arm pouch?"

Ralph looked over at his arms thoughtfully and pondered that option. “Mmm, my arms are kinda thick, you got enough material to get all the way around em?”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

The Space Cadet has only encountered the Surge Protector on the rare occasion and he still doesn’t know which of the Ralphs he’s addressing, so he’s not sure what to do or how to act. At the moment, he seems to be focused on the big guy, but his friend isn’t answering back. He picks up a little of his emotions in the Hivemind, but he tries to ignore them. He clears his throat, hoping that it’ll bring him back to the here and now. He’s tempted to give an answer, in hopes of prompting the big guy to continue, but before he can, his friend finally speaks up. The other Ralph has come up with a good compromise for a given name, so if the Surge Protector turns his attention to the Space Cadet, he plans on telling him the nickname that the big guy had bestowed on him.

Ralph -or Big Red, as he seemed to be calling himself for this venture- clenched and unclenched his claws as Surge wrote something on his clipboard. “Okay Big Red, where are you coming from?”

The cybrid glanced up at the sign above their gate briefly, red letters buzzing overhead. “S-sugar-” He coughed and cleared his throat. “We’re comin’ from Sugar Rush.”

“And where are you headed?”

“Not sure yet, first time outta game, gonna look around. May-maybe Tappers.” Ralph half-lied, looking to his companion for help. “Right, Space Cadet?”

[ask-cybug-ralph]

Well yeah, I figure! But I figured after seein’ what could go wrong like it did with me, you wouldn’t go for it.

“You went Turbo? Why?!” He balked.