Hit 003 ~ Blocky Distractions [Dictated]

[midhitgrope]

[Rocco's been out of the castle since that whole space lobster thing, and he's never been back. It's legitimately scared him off.

He's been staying with the MacManus brothers since then, and, when not earning his keep helping to restore the church, he's been lazing about playing video games.

Specifically, Minecraft.]

Whoever made this game is some sorta evil genius or some shit...

[Minecraft-y noises filter through the journal.]

Seriously, never get into this game. Been playing for five hours straight.

Comments

[spiritusaequitas]

[Murph sneaks up behind Rocco at a particularly suspenseful point and shakes his chair, violently]

[midhitgrope]

[FSSSSSSSSSSSS-- boom! It's at this point Murphy shakes his chair. And it ends up in his character falling prey to a kamikaze shrub.]

FUCK!

[Yep, not happy! He's just going to grab for Murphy now.]

dictated

[optimystic]

What are you playing?

[spiritusaequitas]

[Murph dodges out of the way, laughing] Jesus, I got you good. ... Th' fuck're you doin', anyway?

[midhitgrope]

Minecra-

[FSSSSSSSSSssssss]

Shit... shit, shit, shit...! [*boom*] Fuck!

[midhitgrope]

[Rocco throws the balled-up chip bag at his friend.]

Playin' a game.

[spiritusaequitas]

Well, no shite, Sherlock. [he catches the bag and peeks inside to see if there are at least any left] Which fuckin' one? Looks like crap.

[optimystic]

W-W-What the heck was that?

[midhitgrope]

[Nope, empty]

Well, so do you, ya don't here me complainin'.

It's called Minecraft, and, seriously, this is some heavy shit, man.

[midhitgrope]

Fuckin' suicidal bushes!

[spiritusaequitas]

Heavy shit, seriously? [genuinely interested, despite his ribbing, he deposited the bag in the trash where it belonged, then grabbed a seat of his own to watch]

What's th' point've it, then?

[midhitgrope]

There ain't one. Ya gotta mine stuff an' build shit. Might not seem like much, but... Fuck, it's addicting.

[spiritusaequitas]

F'all yer doin' is mine shit an' build it, how th' fuck did you just die, then? [he grins, peering at the screen]

[midhitgrope]

There's these fuckin' bush things that explode.

[spiritusaequitas]

Explodin' bushes. ... Sounds like yer last girlfriend. [he nudges Rocco with a snerk]

[midhitgrope]

[He just swats at Murphy and shoves the laptop in front of his friend.]

Give it a try.

[There's no tutorial or instructions.] Ya just gotta figure shit out for your own.

[spiritusaequitas]

Arrigh'. [he takes the laptop, careful not to drop it, and pokes at a few keys experimentally] Y'gonna tell me what does what, here?

[optimystic]

Suicidal... bushes?

[midhitgrope]

[The basic command sheet is tossed at you.]

No, what are ya, a pussy? I didn't need no tellin'.

[midhitgrope]

Yeah! They fuckin' exploded me again!

[optimystic]

I've never thought of bushes as particularly dangerous.

[spiritusaequitas]

Fuck you, jus' cuz I don't sit on my fat arse all day an' play this shite --

[he catches the sheet and peers at it]

[midhitgrope]

Hey! I've been freezin' my fat ass off all day on that damn roof of yours. This is the only time I get a break. But am I allowed to have it in peace? Noooooo.

[Good job, Murph. You've set him off.]

'sides, how'd you know it's so fat, huh? Ya been starin' at it?

[spiritusaequitas]

An' if we weren't here, you'd be whinin' about where the fuck were we in yer goddamn hour'a need. [he ruffles Rocco's hair]

[midhitgrope]

[He swats at Murphy. You know he hates people messing with the hair. Not cool, man.]

I can take care of myself.

[spiritusaequitas]

Says th' man who packed a dozen fuckin' vinyls in with th' iron. [he grins. he only means it in fun, YOU KNOW THIS]

[midhitgrope]

[He knows. And any moaning or griping is done in the spirit of fun. You know what he's like.]

I was in a rush! I thought I was gonna get whacked!

[midhitgrope]

These ones fuckin' are. I just found a gold deposit, too.

[Sigh.]

[optimystic]

Can you go back and find the gold later?

[midhitgrope]

Should be able to. I quicksave all the time.