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[oculusriffs]

TG: this is going to be fucking stupid isnt it


[want to get in touch with Dave? you can leave a TEXT, VOICE, or VIDEO message — or alternatively, he shouldn't be too hard to track down in person. it's a hunk of junk space house. in space. he's around here somewhere.]

Comments

[oculusriffs]

[......... whoa, dude, they need to sit down and swap some stories over just how weird their shit can get, because that sounds both hilarious and terrifyingly disturbing at the same time.]

[but Dave looks amused by the question, bag'o'bread in hand.]

Make it? Nah, I'm just storing it.

[and with the same sort of motion he used to retrieve the bread, he stuffs it back in the Sylladex. and there it goes, into hammerspace, like he's some sort of really confusing magician.]

[intrusivethot]

[ They should absolutely do that. Ren still has a decent amount of coffee beans, a lot of free time, and a trenchcoat full of weirdass Metaverse stories to peddle to an eager audience. ]

No but, how.

[ Ren doesn't overreact like some genki boy protag might. Logically he knows that this is somehow forreal but his perturb is couched in arms crossing, an unreadable glare improbably shifting across the lenses of his glasses as his rubs a finger underneath his mouth, examining the air before Dave like that alone would reveal its secrets. ]

Explain.

[oculusriffs]

[and Dave would be more than happy to elaborate about that one time he combined his own brain with a polaroid camera to make a shitty comic machine. video games!!!]

It's a Sylladex. It's sort of like ... I dunno, if reality were like a really stupid video game, the Sylladex would be your inventory.

Except the way you store shit is anywhere from logical to full-blown fuckin' arbitrary.