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Doomworld Potential PWAD story thread!

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Hello Doomworld!

I had an idea while driving home from work today:

Everyone knows the hilarious, horribly written stories given to PWADs in their respective text files. In honor of those teenage 500 word fanfics, I decided to share my crazy "Potential PWAD" story!

Title: Mopmento Mori
After you kicked Hell's ass on Phobos, Deimos, Earth, Io, Hell, and Earth again, you've decided to hang up your helmet. Problem is, your battles with Hell have left you paranoid. After the UAC bailed your ass out of jail for assaulting an orca at Seaworld, you decided to work as a janitor at one of their remaining corporate offices in Dallas. Since most of your former bosses were either dead or in federal prison, Holding a mop instead of a rocket launcher was comforting... At least, for a while.

After a week, you feel that too-familiar feeling. There are demons in the base. Since you were already a wealthy guy from all the old UAC settlement checks, you decide to do it eBay. And if you're a janitor, you know exactly where to hide a black market rocket launcher.

Weeks pass. Your coworkers don't notice. That's because you don't have any. You pick up your mop, ready to clean up the mess from the crazy sex-fueled business party the night before, only to hear the sounds you never wanted to hear again...

Please to do better than me! The only limit iz yourself. And don't be tl;dr like a Wolf3d Mod story.

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Hell Invasion

Story: With the cataclysmic results of the seventy-twelve previous teleportation experiments, the UAC is now saddled with fines (and compensations to the survivors) that threaten it with bankruptcy. A plan was devised to get the funds quickly: acquire a lot of real-estate cheaply, then sell it.

Your mission is to invade Hell and kill all the demons so that their land can be claimed by the UAC and turned into profitable housing projects. Besides, it should keep them busy enough on their own turf that they won't try to invade Earth again this time!

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I have an idea for a PWAD story. You take on the role of John Carmack, who is being chased down by hordes of angry Doom fans who are still upset about Doom 3 after all these years. Your mission is to blast your way through 32 fan wank soaked levels of pure mayhem that are over detailed and super linear. Complete objectives and be rewarded by a multitude of mind blasting cut scenes. Oculus Rift supported!

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The bitter taste of suspended animation wears off. As your vision comes into focus, you see the medical officer standing in front of you.

"Rise and shine, marine," she says, tapping at her datapad. The sarcasm sloughs off every word. You've heard it before, too. Twice from this MO alone. "We're in transit to the combat zone. Command wants me to brief you, as usual."

"Which planet is it this time?" you say. The words feel like they take forever to come out.

"Earth," she says. "Some activity in the ruins of Los Angeles." Still fussing with that datapad. "Members of one of the reclaiming teams wound up missing and resurfaced as zombies. Scouts checked it out and found the city overrun with demons at least five clicks from the shore. HQ set up a perimeter, but they want you."

"A new gateway." It would have to be, wouldn't it.

"No," she says. "At least, we don't think so." You step out of the pod to stretch your legs. She does her scans. "According to command, there's a top-secret military base underwater, off the coast of the city. Deep, like bottom of the ocean. It was the experimental prototypical community of tomorrow. Manufacturing, hydroponics, research, you name it. Even had a civilian population. They wanted to use it as a blueprint for future population expansion."

So an old gateway. It's all the same. Demons out, marine in.

"They were going to use teleportation as the main means of transportation. We're still putting together records of what happened when the invasion occurred, but the brass thinks that DeepStar One went down at the same time."

"Why do they suppose?" you say.

She clutches the datapad to her chest. It's an idle action. "Its sister teleporter was the epicenter of Doomsday," she says.

"When will we be there?"



The scene is amazing. You wouldn't think there'd be anything left to burn, but the city is on fire, again. They never stop. They can't.

"Hendricks says you're clear to go." The captain of the Athena. She couldn't be bothered to brief you. She knows better. "We'd touch down closer, but the skies are full of shit. Anything else you need, you got it. What do you want to do?"

You step off the ramp and onto the dusty soil.

"I want to kill," you say. Carrying nothing more than your sidearm, you speed off.

"How does he run so fast?" says one of the soldiers.

"I'm more amazed that he can see where he's going," says the captain.

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Hey! I have the exclusive copyright for stories where Doomguy handles a mop! :)

What I'd like to see is a PWAD revolving around the "John Romero will make you his bitch" idea (and no, I don't mean this ones ;-).

Something like "John Romero's Making Of The Bitch" or "John Romero's Manufacturing Of The Bitch", where there's this entire military-industrial complex which actually makes/manufactures Bitches for John Romero to make his own.

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It's been 5 years since you single-handedly foiled the invasion of the Mars moon bases and stopped the subsequent invasion of Earth. Although most of Earth was left in ruins and millions were killed in the attacks, you were held up by the remaining survivors as a hero.

Sadly stories don't always have happy endings, even for heroes. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, every night you find yourself reliving your fight with the demons. A few shotgun blasts might have been enough to dispatch them in real life, but they live on in your dreams, continuing to torment you.

A side-effect of your PTSD has been the development of extreme claustrophobia. Must be all that time spent fighting in confined corridors on the moon bases. Sometimes it feels like you're back there, fighting the demons again, the walls closing in on you.

One night you have a particularly surreal, disturbing dream. You relive your entire experience fighting to save Earth, except all the places you visited have been shrunk down to miniature proportions. You're fighting the demons again, inside tiny boxes no bigger than a crate. But maybe if you can face both your fears at once and fight through, you can overcome your PTSD and go back to an ordinary life.


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Maes said:

Something like "John Romero's Making Of The Bitch" or "John Romero's Manufacturing Of The Bitch", where there's this entire military-industrial complex which actually makes/manufactures Bitches for John Romero to make his own.

After seeing that his career as a gamedziner was going nowhere, John Romero reconverted into the fast-food industry. His creativity shone through once more and he created a new recipe for a hot-dog variant, which he called the hot-bitch. If you visit his little restaurant, John Romero will be pleased to make you his bitch.

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