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Nerd Garbage

@bedbug0

Alexander • He/Him • 18
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bedbug0
paper-mario-wiki
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paper-mario-wiki

It's 2023. It's time to make a new trollsona.

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paper-mario-wiki

NAME: Kippyr Wulton

HANDLE: eclecticConservator

TYPING QUIRK: "shortenin stuff where i can. cant be typin all day. you got somethin for me? spit it out. i got somethin for you? i'll keep it to three sentences or less."

(Preference towards shortened sentences with clipped words. They prefer brevity and function in communication over flourish and theatrics.)

LUNAR PREFERENCE: Derse Dreamer

CLASSPECT: Seer of Mind

Image
Your name is KIPPYR WULTON. You live in a SHACK in the WOODS. You've always preferred a life of privacy, and you love all of the not worrying about being killed in your sleep that not living in a city affords you.
Another perk of your rural living choices is the absolute wealth of STUFF in the willderness. COLLECTING and APPRECIATING all of your WICKED COOL TREASURE gives you life. You tend to have a keen eye for value in what others might see as usless. Your friends often call you a KLEPTOMANIAC and a HOARDER, but you prefer to see yourself as an APPRAISER and CURATOR. This interest of yours is fueled by the fact that the woods surrounding your house are jam-packed with DUNGEONS and CRYPTS, ripe for the picking! You can't keep everything in your pockets, even if you are wearing your iconic TWO JACKETS, so you try not to leave the house without your trusty SATCHEL.
Whenever you're not plundering and indexing your many prizes and curios, you're otherwise a HABITUAL DABBLER. You absolutely love getting little tastes of everything. Yesterday you picked up beatboxing. The week before that you were learning to weld. Tomorrow, who knows! You've heard that SPEEDRUNNING is pretty fun, maybe you'll get into that. Most of the time, however, you tend to just FUCK AROUND and PHILOSOPHIZE about utter bullshit. Everything is connected somehow, and you love to TRACK PATTERNS in all things.

Kippyr's main ability is their research and development into the RPS chart, which is of course an ontologically infallibe rulebook to the warring forces of the universe (it's Rock Paper Scissors).

At the start of the story, the RPS chart is fairly small, looking something like this.

Though as their session continues it grows larger and larger, until it contains a comprehensive list if all things (physical and conceptual) in the universe, including how they connect and interact with each other.

Kippyr's strength is that they can access anything they might need in their satchel, which is eventually upgraded to act as effectively infinite hammer space.

As a Seer of Mind player, they break down problems into steps and work backwards until they have a solution. Most of their session involves progressively crazier and more bombastic reveals, like how they figured out "Two-ton steel porcupine" instantly beats "Gate 1 boss, Tr'ullia Gobmaw", or the shocking reveal that the perfect counter to "Lock carved by the ancients" was, in fact, "Napkin folded up into a paper frog and set on the ground for a week".

Studying this list is something Kippyr dedicates YEARS of their life to. Their end-game gear allows them to access different volumes of knowledge stored on external mental hard drives, as their limited mortal mind couldn't possibly understand the RPS fractal all at the same time. Also, when they need to fetch an ID number for an item on the chart, it's represented by a double-sided barcode printed out on an old timey stock ticker.

Also here's their planet.

It's 2023. It's time to make a new trollsona.

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onepeachymo

i could not resist

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paper-mario-wiki

YEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK YES DUDE!!!!!!! FUCK YES!!!!!

bedbug0
monzterzack

My three girlfriends. And yes, they smoke weed.

do they smoke weed?

Yes, actually.

you mean she isnt just smoking a cigarette? but a weed cigarette?

It’s called a bunt…. Not weed cigarette… And yes, it is a weed bunt. They all smoke weed bunts before we kiss. (They are my girlfriends,)

They don’t look like they smoke weed.

Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. Fuck You. I’m so angry you are so lucky my three weed smorking girlfriends are rubbing my shoulders to calm me down I’m so mad.

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madamekagamine

Your “weed smoking girlfriend” has a Hello Kitty tattoo on her belly. The one in the middle.

I printed out a photo of your avatar and taped it to my punching bag that I punch and I mutter your URL with every strong punch I punch you twerp…. Don’t ever Talk about Blaiz or the wicked Tat(tattoo) I drew on her ever again I Don’t wanna see you standing outside my home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again ok leave us alone this is the FINAL FUCKING WARNING 

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19leahjade96

Well that escalated quickly……

What, was that? Hmm? Come again. *Blaiz grabs my shoulder* Come on Jory, they aren’t worth it, please. * I jerk my shoulder shaking her hand off* NO! NOOOOO!!! *starts to just pummel you with my big fucking fists. With each blow I let out a furious yell. The blows come quicker and harder and the yells get louder. I’m yelling so loud and now I’m crying. BREAKING POINT. The week was hard and I can’t take anymore. I’m opening sobbing at this point while you blood gurgle. All three of my girlfriends struggle to pull me off and they finally succeed and lead me away from the goo pile that is now your body*

haha oh my god

who even is this dude? someone needs some anger management classes.

love how he keeps reminding us that “I HAVE THREE GIRLFRIENDS”, “THEY ALL KISS ME”, and “THEY SMOKE WEED HURRP DURR”.

and let’s not forget the “Blaiz” and her “wicked tat”, or that he doesn’t “wanna see you standing outside [his] home at 3 am holding your weird dripping brown bags ever again”, and that this is “the FINAL FUCKING WARNING”.

“the goo pile that is now your body”

i’m dying over here, jesus

please, Jory, come challenge me to a bout of internet witticsisms; i promise, it’ll be fun.

*shoots you dead* Heh, idiot… *leaves with my three weed smorking girlfriends to go hold hands and kiss.*

this dude playin omg 

Come again? *The bar falls silent. No one dares to make a sound, as you have just said a very poor choice of words at a very dangerous time. I remain slumped over the bar, not looking back to you. One hand limply holding an almost empty bottle, the other hand cradling my head. I repeat the question, this time louder.* Come again?! *You can hear me slur the words, the sentence sounds like a real struggle for me to get out. I’m clearly intoxicated. A bead of sweat rolls down your face as you realize you might have just fucked up in a very major way. Everyone else in the bar is pretending to not notice what is going on. The bartender idly washes a mug with a cloth. His eyes are closed and he’s muttering something to himself. A handful of people hurriedly leave. One person looks back at you, a look of sorrow on their face. They almost say something, but shake their head and cast their eyes down to the floor, and leave. But not you. You stand, petrified. A quick look at me reveals I’m still  at the bar. You look to the exit, there’s still time. But there’s not, there’s not, there’s not. Your fate was sealed the moment you opened your mouth.* Mother fuck.. what did you say?! *I slowly rise from my stool and being to lumber over to you.  I look a mess. My hair is unkempt, I haven’t shaved in what looks like months, there are dark heavy bags under my eyes, my shirt is stained and has holes in it, and I’m missing a shoe. But the main thing you notice is the gun tucked into my jeans, and my massive muscle arms that look like they were made for punching. You know that song about the boots that were made for walking? Yeah, it’s like that only instead of boots it’s my muscles and instead of walking it’s punching. As I drunkenly sway over to you, you think of your family… Will they mourn you, or will they try and forget this blotch of stupidity, that their child insulted the Jory publicly, ever happened to their family? Your thoughts are cut short as I now stand face to face with you. I grab your face and pull you even closer.* Playin?! There was nothing playing… no playing you fuck. No playing… it was real.. the realest thing I’ve ever know.. felt… Love. I loved them… Blaiz…. Chas-Chas… Funk… I loved all three of em… but they…*My face is wet with tears and I’m blinking constantly in vain to hold them back.* They left me… left… *Almost instantly the sadness leaves my face and is replaced with pure anger.* Playin? Playin?! *My hand leaves your face and starts to head to what you think is the gun. You close your eyes and see God looking at you, shrugging. ‘Pft, you brought this upon yourself dude.’ He says as he waves his hands at you dismissively. But instead of the gun, my hands grab yours. Your eyes jolt open and the anger is gone from my face. There is only sadness.* Left me… * I fall to the floor and sob.* Wow, grow up. *You say before you leave the bar but are hit almost immediately from a car and are killed upon impact.*

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lizardsister

happy 4/20