Failed Wish Game -RedwallType

[dirgecallers]

granted...but now he is selling out of stock aso fast he cannot replenish it.


I wish that my rat charrie would decide where to plunder first

[ferretface]

He does...he decides on Salamandastron.
*SCHPLUTCH*

I wish 'Retchen plays a more important role in the plot.

[Darkpatch]

Granted but he became so important that he became omniscient and you couldn't control him anymore.

I wish that I knew why vermin referred to otters and badgers as stream and stripe dogs while there is no other reference to dogs in any Redwall book.

[Ashstripe]

Granted. I myself, the all knowing Ashstripe shall answer it personally.

Well y'see...There's a funny story behind that one...Involving a lot...Of...*Tips glass of water* HE'S ON TO US! CHEESE IT! *Jumps over his chair and runs*.

Ashstripe's Lawyer: Of course what he meant to say is...You find the answer but you forget about Redwall entirely.

I wish...I could find another Redwall book in my local book depository. Or the Library as normal people call it.

[Darkpatch]

Granted but you find one of those... newfangled picture books everyone's talking about. Like... the "Great Redwall Feast".

...

GET OUT OF MY BRAIN, YOU WHIPPERSNAPPERS!

Darkpatch: What do you mean? I live here!
William Shakespeare: I just sit along for the ride.
Me: Shakespeare? I thought I told you to GET OUT!
William Shakespeare: Don't make me spout Old English at you!
Me: Oh, please! Anything but that!

Anyway, I wish that Doomwyte had a better villain.

[Maxodis]

Granted! Going on the blind assumption that "Doomwyte" is a book and it is indeed authored by Brian Jacques (You know you're depressed when you don't feel like opening a new tab and typing in google.com, FFS), Let's take a crack at this.

Brian Jacques, feeling that his villains lack a certain corruption that would not only make them evil, but irredeemably loathsome, decides to break his usual childlike theme. The villain for Doomwyte now *censored* and makes a point of slowly *censored* in a most grisly manner. With an apple.

an APPLE, for god's sake! The horror, the horror!

......Oh well.

I wish WHOOPWHOOPWHOOP.

....

I mean, I wish my characters had some vague clue as to what events are transpiring around them. Come to think of it, I wish I did too.

[Wildrun]

*hugs Max* I diagnose that you need some ice cream. Or a cookie. Or any kind of comfort food. ...Or orange juice, that usualyl helps too. ^^

Granted, Maxeh. Your characters become hypersensitive, they never miss a trick. In fact, one of them developes the abilities to read minds, the other can see the future, oh, and did I mention that they sparkle in the sunlight? It acts as mirrors to warn them of oncoming Twilight fangirls. ((They heard about the apple)) ...You I give the power to control emotions to dissuade the fangirls from dragging you off their TwiTard lair of doom. ^^"""

...I wish...that...I...could get...off my lazy butt...and go...ummmmmm...stop bugging my sister to give me an idea for a wish, or at least have the self-esteem of any decent Redwaller to not rip off her idea to build a trans-dimensional-laser....

....to transport me to Redwall. I can hear her screaming about copyright as I type. XD

[Yves]

Granted. Unfortunately, there are precisely three million, six hundred fifty-two thousand, five hundred twelve and nine-fourteenths Dax's in the world of Redwall (some prefer to use Dax as a nickname, while others are called Dax against their will, both of which are counted as .24523 Dax. Daxes which are named Dax but called something else are .5 Dax. Daxes who are named Dax, subsequently renamed, and then renamed Dax again, are 1.25 Daxes). The particular Dax you get to do something with is an enormous fire-breathing rat, with funny pink eyes and a very dry sense of humor. The something you get to do involves sitting in his stomach, while he spouts off libertarian political theory until his enzymes manage to break you down.

I wish your Dibbuns were my personal slaves.

[ferretface]

Granted! After just two days of playing 'chasies' with you (chains be damned!), tickling you to exasperation and generally being...well, Dibbuns...within one day your fur turns white, and the next you die of the stress.

I wish that I could finally make up my mind on where to stick in Kegro...

[Yves]

Granted. However, once you make up your mind, everyone else decides that your mind's decision was about as well-informed as Napoleon's invasion of Russia, and they promptly criticize you in a most irritating fashion, which leads to the apocalypse through nonsensical processes too complex to relate here, but which, you should know, involve several flying trampolines.

I wish Maximillian would get on with it and kill someone, himself. his creator and any blood relatives/friends/loves to the two mentioned prior not included.

[Swing]

Granted! He mistakes Tataroo's "Tickle Me Elmo" as an easy target and kills 'im. Unfortuanetley, Tataroo wants revenge. Oh shiz.

I wish I had a character who could play the saxaphone! (just because I can't. XD)

[Maxodis]

Granted! One of your characters (For the purposes of hilarity, we'll say Tataroo) spontaneously gains the ability to play the saxophone with unmatched talent. He is endowed with inspiration and infused with the burning desire to compose music for and play the saxophone. Only problem is the saxophone does not exist yet. Several of his attempts at creating a saxophone of his own fail miserably, as he has never even seen one, much less had the opportunity to figure out the mechanics of one. He does manage to create something. Unfortunately, one cannot simply "play" a pile of scrap.

Depression and anguish overcome the stoat, to the point that he feels that there is no reason to live. He commits suicide through the use of extensive amounts of whipped cream. Oh well.

I wish one of my characters could play an instrument. Dax is just a nub.

[Swing]

WHIPPED CREAM GONE WRONG.

This ss what I get for stealing so much of it. ^^"

....Gods, the picture of Tataroo trying to create a sax outta piles of junk with some kind of obsessed look on is face is too much. That's just brilliant, Max, nice! XD

Oaklea: Now you're short a character.
Mapel: You just lost your warlord.
Me: ...Fudge-buckets.
Trickio: Woah, mate, watch ya' language!
Matey: CAP'N! BEFORE YOU GO, THROW ME THE SHIP'S KEYS!
Cavvy: Burr oi, zurr, ships dun't 'ave kuys.
Matey: ...EVERYTHING I KNOW IS A LIEEE~!
Oaklea/Mapel/Trickio: WOULD YOU SHUT UP?!
Cavvy: Oi, that be enough naow, all youms uppa bed, 'tis yurr sleep toime, roight this in-stant!

Me: ^^"

...Uh, granted, Maxeh. Dax learns how to play the cello, then the guitar, then the piano, then the flute, pickilo, viola, violin, drums, and then, in a wild rush of adrenaline and conquest, he attempts to tackle the mighty Tuba. This turns out to be a huge mistake, because the Tuba he went for was only a youngling, and now Mama Tuba's upset. You know how protective Tuba are of their young--Dax never stood a chance, and was quickly eaten. You find him covred in spit a few days later, and he refuses to ever vary from being his nubbish self.

...I wish I didn't imbue my characters with such irritating qualities.

Oaklea: *blows a rasberry at me* Pppppttt!!!

Mapel: *cold shoulders me* I'm sorry, what?

Matey: Oh I know a song that gets on everybodie's nerves, everybodie's nerves, everybodie's nerves~!

Tataroo: Matey, I am not dead, I am still here, and YOU ARE ANNOYING ME!

Cavvy: Coin't we all jus' get aloing naow? Ooh, look, Mizz Trickio, it be moi bee friends, hurr!

Trickio: *glares at everybody* ...When the annoyin' fest's over, lemme know.

Me: *facepalm*

[Yves]

Granted. Because annoying is a subjective term, this wish incorporates all the definitions of annoying currently in use by intelligent creatures everywhere, and applies it however it might be applied, from any point of view. Now, as it happens, "annoying," is precisely the sound-combination produced by a tribe of post-modern rats in the farthest reaches of the relatively northern universe (also known as the deep south, and most famously, the middle of no where), to describe existence and their perception of its non-reality. Of course, your wish was phrased in the negative, but in the realm of relativism, that doesn't matter. So, your characters immediately become exactly what everyone's subjective interpretation of them is, which is to say that they become everything, which is to say that they become nothing, which is to say that they become a wonderfully tasty cheeseburger, with a side of curly-fries.

I wish Maximillian got to eat that cheese-burger.

[ferretface]

Granted! You order a 1-only Special Triple-Decker Ultra Space'n'Time Alterin' Super Burger, from, uh...Kingsley's. Eating it with relish, you are suddenly filled with 6 very annoyi-irritating characters...Matey eats your spleen, Cavvy digs through your lungs, Tataroo hacks away merrily at your heart, and the rest....are...generally destructive. Soon, you explode with the sheer power of them which, lacking a spleen, you can not resist.

I wish that Kurrad was appointed Redwall's Abbot.

[Wildrun]

D: You ate my characters!? My characters attacked fro mteh inside?! My brain will no longer function at ultimate capa-capa--capacit--*boom*

...Eh, granted, 'Retchen, Kurrad becomes Abbot. He now is adored by vermin everywhere and the goodguys take the role of badguys in attacking the Abbey to get you the heck outta there. As they were originalyl the good guys and Yves's reltivity lesson has turn my brain upside down, let's make this a long story short by saying that the goodguybadguygoobadbeasts defy Redwall rules and win while Kurrad and his admires get turned out on their tails, forever to be totally confused and allergic to cheesburgers.

...I wish I had a reason to eat the Pearl Queen-pudden-lunchable in my fridge. ^^"

[Yves]

Granted. The reason is as follows:

A large bomb immediately appears in your digestive tract, set to go off in precisely three seconds. If you could just eat that Pearl Queen-pudden-lunchable, that bomb would deactivate, and all your wildest fantasies would come true. Unfortunately, you are totally unaware of this, and your lower intestine suffers as a result.

I wish that the next poster would do nothing unpleasant to Maximillian, and do something pleasant to him while he is not doing unpleasantness, unpleasant and pleasant here being defined by Yves.

[Maxodis]

Granted! Maximilian picks his nose. He then proceeds to do absolutely nothing.

I'd take the time and effort to honor your past efforts with an analysis of my own, but I'm currently getting ready to preform in an ensemble in front of a panel of judges in a UIL competition. This is THE LAST TIME I have to deal with this crap. *kicks cello*

I wish I knew what I'd do with Noiss in his fight with Matey/Matecol.

[Wildrun]

Granted, you have an absolutely spledndid idea involving somersaults and diversive tactics. However, now Matey is stuck again and Wildrun's brain overloads with the combined pressure of this science project, history project, math quiz, and posting.

...I wish I could think of a good idea for my science project and turn the approval form in tomorrow!

[Yves]

Granted. You come up with an idea so good that... Alright, let's not mince words. It is a GOOD idea. It is so incredibly good that the only person who could possibly hear even the first three words of the hypothesis, and not suffer from a moment of enlightenment and genius induced by sheer brilliance, has a religious problem with it.

Unfortunately, this latter condition describes your science teacher to a tee, and if it doesn't, then Maximillian kidnapped him, and put in a new one. Because this teacher is so offended by your brilliant idea, she calls upon the New Agey-ish Iranian-Israelitian-Martian Inquisitorial Council of Fox Mulder and Etch-a-Sketch (the leaders of the only interplanetary religion diametrically opposed to your idea) to sublimate your body into three hundred trillion hydrogen atoms.

I wish I could come up with a last name for Fieuline....