Paste Whatever You Have Copied

oh look yet another gang of hl2rp minges. i'm astounded by this fuckin originality

 

Scenario #78
​

--> Two medics sit by a fire during an operation, alone and jaded beyond the point of return. It appears to be Technician Grade Three Emma Aalto, and Chief Ib Dalca. One could infer they've already been left behind on some operation in the middle of a wasteland.

Ib: "Maybe we should get going, we got stuff to do."
Emma: "What? What stuff?"
Ib: "You know... The orders we got."
Emma: "What orders?"
Ib: "What?! You don't remember our orders?!"
Emma: "No, I don't remember no fuckin' orders!"
Ib: "Oh, good. 'Cause I don't either."

Scenario #93​

--> Two medics are presumably lost in a cave after falling down a pit, and stumble upon an extremely dark corridor. It's the infamous two; Emma Aalto, and Ib Dalca. Ib removes a red-flare, and lights it as a source of light, given everything else must have been completely dysfunctional. Upon lighting the corridor, beyond several aliens could be seen crawling all over the walls, but they instantly scurry away from the sight of the flare. Emma and Ib obviously saw the creatures, and got a pretty good glimpse as to what they were.

Emma: "God damn it... You okay?"
Ib: "Still alive."
Emma: "Can't see anything."
Ib: "Hold on, let me light this thing."
Emma: "Did you just see that wall full of nightmarish creatures?"
Ib: "Pfft, no. Not at all."
Emma: "I totally didn't see anything, either. Let's keep going."

Scenario #43​

--> Two lone soldiers, presumably left behind by their entire platoon - Again, have found themselves somewhere beyond the Antlion caves they were sent to. They're about a mile beneath the surface of the planet, around an abandoned mining facility - Half intact. They've gone a few days without food, and have just run out of MRE's and C-Rations. However, they stumble upon an odd alien-like creature. It's dead.

Ib: "What the Hell is that thing?"
Emma: "It's a rat... Or something."
Ib: "You sure it's okay to eat?"
Emma: "Totally."
Ib: "It looks... Mutated. Isn't this an Antlion Hive? Could be a trap."
Emma: "Oh, come on. Just because you got sucked through portals and shit doesn't mean you have to be paranoid about -everything-."
Ib: "Well, -you- can eat it and die if you want to."
Emma: "Oh, so you're just going to starve to death, then?"
Ib: "...Point. I want the middle-part."

Scenario #29​

--> In the heat of a relentless fire-fight between First Platoon and a band of Resistance, two widely known medics stand in the way of the blazing fury, pulling back one of their own wounded. As they'd make it to safety, another one of their teammates drop. They both trot over, through the crossfire, and stand completely still - About five meters from the wounded soldier. A multitude of bullets spray by the two units in seconds to come, from both First Platoon and the Resistance. However, none make contact. The two simply stand out in the open, clear as day, and turn to face each other - Their weapons slung.

Ib: "Meh, think we should we help him?"

Emma: "Dude, he's dying, and he's on our side - Yeah, it's our -job- to help him."

Ib: "Well, yeah, but the guy's a massive douche-canoe cunt-bag."

Emma: "What, so we just drop all morals and reason?! Ugh, God damn it, Ib - We're too late. He's already gurgling his own damn blood!"

Ib: "Yeah, but that can easily be fixed with an incision and a lubricated tube - He's got like two minutes left before he drowns, anyway. And I'm not dropping any reasoning or morals. When I say this guy's a douche-canoe, I mean he's blue-on-blued like five people already and won't even fucking own up to it. He's one of those gung-ho faggots who chase promotion, and promotion only for the sake of fuck-all."

Emma: "Oh, well fuck him, then."

Ib: "Whatever happened to, 'morals and reasoning?' I thought you wanted to help him?"

Emma: "Pfft, fuck you. You said it yourself, he blue-on-blued like five people - Do I need to carry on any further?"

Ib: "Nah. Just makin' sure. So, what's our excuse? We were pinned down whilst standing in the middle of a barrage of bullets, desperately making way for cover..? Or..?"

Emma: "Considering all of First Platoon's seen us, and fired in our general direction, as has been doing so for the past like - Ten minutes, I'd say it's a bit late for the whole, 'desperately making way for cover,' part. They'd call bullshit."

Ib: "True. Have you ever noticed that the Resistance and the Union are literally Storm-Troopers and James Bonds' enemies when it comes to fire-fights? In target practice, they're dead-fucking-on target. What's changed? Did they suddenly go retarded?"

Emma: "I 'unno. Probably."

Ib: "If we really wanted to, we probably could've ended this fire-fight like twenty minutes ago."

Emma: "Yeah... So, what's the excuse for the dead guy?"

Ib: "Uh, I got it. Y'know how there's that bullshit ten-one-oh-three-ehm, mentally unfit? There's a physically unfit one of those. We could just say that he wouldn't have survived either way, really. I mean, as far as medicine goes, the whole Union is blind as a damn bat."

Emma: "Good point. Wanna head back to base?"

Ib: "Yeah, I'm bored of this firefight shit already."

Emma: "I was the one who stole your sandwich, by the way."

Ib: "..God fucking damn it."

Scenario #69​

--> On a floating and ancient rock with lost civilizations and colonies floating around freely in a space-like atmosphere reminiscent of a nebula, a platoon of soldiers are arguing amongst themselves, looking to one specific soldier. Ib Dalca, a Private First-Class at the time. However, he appears to be talking with one of his closest friends, Dameon Smallwood... both seem to ignore the banter going on behind them to offer their own jaded two cents of the situation. Ib appears to be holding one of the most important items according to the plot's narrator - Almost as if they were in someone else's mind. It was a data-core. Ib had in his hands, the chance of life, or death.

Dameon: "'Ey man, what'chu holdin'?"

Ib: "Uh, I dunno, it's some data-core type thing. Apparently it's incredibly crucial to the mission at hand, and all of humanity depends on it."

Dameon: "Why does it -.. Whu - Just, why?"

Ib: "Uh, I guess I found this glowy piece of shit and picked it up 'cause it looks pretty cool and important. Whoever's playing God right now is yelling at me to -not- throw it off the cliff. But I 'unno."

Dameon: "So, what'chu 'bout to do?"

Ib: "I 'unno, man. This supposed, 'God,' is telling me not to throw it, and the Platoon and Irika's telling me to throw it - Fuck, I could totally go for a Jack Daniels right now."

Dameon: "Nigga', fuck Jack - I need a forty-ounce to cope with this shit. I'm tired, I'm hungry... I wanna go home now and jack off. Just throw the mother fucker, bruh'."

Ib: "Nah, dude. Chill. We're floating in worlds right now, dude. Desolate worlds. There's a fucking bar -right- over there, full of shit. Are you kidding? I don't wanna' leave yet."

Dameon: "Nigga', my show is playing right now. I've had it up to my eyeballs with all this paranomal, scary skeleton ass shit, dude."

Ib: "Yeah, but if I throw this shit, there's fifty-fifty chance everyone'll die, or everyone'll live - I mean, they're all bitching at me right now. They can't even be thankful that we're in a God damn Heaven of sorts, able to -rest- for five seconds."

Dameon: "Ya' only live once, breh! Gimme' tha' shit!"

Ib: "Bruh', chill. I'm gonna go over there, grab my Jack Daniels, and call for Irika. If she doesn't appear in like ten seconds of the call, I'll throw the shit. Deal?"

Dameon: "A'ight, whateva'. Ten seconds..."

Ib: "Yeah dude. Yo, Irika - You hear me? If so, we sort'a like - Need you. -Right now-."

** Utter silence, and no appearance of Irika.

Dameon: "Bruh', that stanky-skank ain't showing up. She prolly off fiddlin' with the nigga' behind the curtains whispering into mu'fucka's ears."

Ib: "Probably. Yeah, fuck it. Arr-Eye-Pee fam, Pee-Oh-Pee holdin' it down."

** Ib takes a step to the edge, and paces back a bit. He absolutely whips the data-core about a hundred-seventy five yards from his position - One Hell of a pass, as it makes its way into the split-dimensions. It turns out that his throw was so damn far, that even this supposed, 'God,' the one telling him -not- to throw it, said it was a damn fine pass.

** All light, or view of anything of all the area surrounding troopers cancels out - They go blind and all the platoon starts to break into a panic, some crying in fear and confusion. Mass-hysteria breaks out amongst the troopers.

Dameon: "Bruh', who turn't off the lights?!"

Ib: "Nigga', I don't know g'damnit!"

Random Connie: "You just doomed us all! Oh my God, we're all gonna' die!"

Ib: "Yeah, RIP."

Dameon: "Yolo, bruh'."

Ib: "So, the lights're still off or what?"

Dameon: "Yep."

Ib: "Oh, RIP all of humanity, then. My bee."

 

Flt Sgt. Buck E. Hazard says "Turg-e-maaaan? Eh.. One o' them weird foreign names I betcha.. It ain't too late ta save yer soul, just embrace our lord n' saviour Jesus Christ.. N' stop focusin' on that Fridlund fellas buttocks, flush tha' Devil out o' yer soul.. Ye nae want ta be a queerosexual."

 

http://gyazo.com/0f6c8ed08bd1ad39cbfb202adc40e2d2

 

Seal: doooooode
Seal: he just asked me if cabbage medals could be made an ic item
Seal: why did i choose this career

 

Tape: UUS
Tape: Universal Union Soldier
Mr. Spak: OTF Overwatch Transhuman Forces

 

My reaction to the people still pasting on here

 

http://imgur.com/gallery/Qqdzc

 

http://www.abc.net.au/news/image/4230880-3x2-940x627.jpg

 

warning: really fucking loud

 

oh fuck yes, fatigue.
i remember seeing this on /f/ and have been looking for it forever.

 

OL MARTIN LUTHER'S GOT TO GO, THATS ONE THING WE ALL KNOW, WE'LL TAKE HIM RIGHT AND RIDE HIM ON A RAIL AND LOCK HIM IN THE COUNTY JAIL

how was this in my pastes

 

https://vine.co/v/OUljvzWBBiU