Fast Food: Stories of the Underpaid: A Roleplaying Fast Food Chain Game - Games

The man raised an eyebrow, turning back and forth and left to right, "But but. Oh fuck it." The man walked out of the joint, leaving several coins on the floor while at it. ... Doug stared as the crowd of hungry customers complained while the clock was ticking. He sweated bullets as he applied several napkins onto his helmet, yanking cloth. He got towards Mr. Plinkett who was busy injecting himself with insulin on the side of his stomach. “Mr. Plinkett we got an emergency.” “Can't you wait out there, I'm trying to relieve my diabetes!” He shouted out, groaning. Doug shook his head, taking a peek out the office, seeing customers stand up in unison, dozens in doves, tension raised. Doug turned to his boss. “Afraid not sir, the crowd seems to be shaken up. I think I saw a kid pull out a knife.” Mr Plinkett sighed, rolling his wheelchair to see about a dozen of customers rising up like a hivemind of some sort, he used all of his energy to squint, catching people raising their voices and screaming out there like packs of animals. Like some kind of zoo. “OH MY GAWD!” Mr Plinkett panicked, searching endlessly for a weapon, punching throw the plaster revealing stashes of cash, grabbing the money and putting it in his pockets, breathing quickly while the tide was coming, and it wasn't going to be pretty. “DOUG, GET THE WEAPONS! THE TIDE IS COMING!” “Right away sir!” Doug immediately went out the door, catching several customers giving dead daggers at him like predators from the zoo, power walking to the kitchen. “STOP! WE GOT AN EMERGENCY!” Doug waved his arms fanatically while Kouta and Lucy raised their eyebrow, taking to score a peek outside. The customers, screamed out, complaining as some banged on the table, throwing their napkins from the table.

Name: Bob "Waley" Grishnach [IMG]http://i.imgur.com/5kyBWyj.jpg[/IMG] Date Of Birth: 10 years old Position: Dark Customer (alignment: evil) Race: Hybrid Biography: When bob was born, he was already a man. He crawled his way out of the bean pit at the age of three, being the only survivor of a scurry between his brethren involving a knife. His only prized possession, Grishnach was forced to sell it after a lost bet for a free burger. Dazed, desperate, hungry, Bob let out a cry of pain after Jim Stasos, 10 years old like him, took the meal he stole from a dumpster and crammed it into his wide pighole. The blade was forced out of Jim's pocket and as if simultaneously, a slash of red was torn across his belly. The knife grew to a larger size, having had been leveled up from the experience. Bob spun around in a craze, and begun to slaughter his way to the glass doors...

"What the fuck is going on?!" Herman yelled at Doug, Kouta and Lucy.

Mike rushes into the back room, grabbing a dvd of "Giraffes night out in Manhattan" before throwing it into the microwave and bringing it to the front of the room. "I'm armed and ready Mr. Plinkett. I'm making to make rays come out of the magnetron like in Raiders of the lost Ark" He points the windowed end of the microwave out to the room and prepares to switch it on.

"The crowd is getting angry! Mr Plinkett, get your revolver." Doug yelled out as saw the broken cash register fly towards the kitchen. Mr Plinkett rolled towards Mike and Jay, unzipping his front zipper and pulled out a large revolver. "Oh, it's you gentlemen again. Well you repairmen better protect my ass from these customers or else I'll fire you til you never work at a fast food restaurant ever again!" He stomped the end of his cane onto the floor. "You two!" Doug pointed at Kouta and Lucy. "Unleash the Meatmongoloid!" Kouta gestured outwards, confused as fuck. "What the fuck are you talking about?" He asked out loud while Lucy blinked, yawning. "Knock on the Freezer two times, it'll come out!" Doug said as he grabbed several items from the cabinets. Kouta shrugged, completely clueless on the situation, walking up to the freezer tilting his head. He slowly raised his fist, knocking twice.

Mike replies "Sure thing Mr Plinkett. Oh yes, just to mention that due to policies repairmen are paid like $80 an hour now or something. And we're required to be paid three months in advance, you might have heard of it." Mike switches on the microwave and ducks behind the counter "Don't look whatever you do"

Bob has made his way to the gates of food. One problem: He has killed too many and his knife is too big to fit through the doors. He stares into the restaurant with a terrifying gaze...

Meatmongoloid hears the knocking. Once again agitated by the intrusion, it gurgles in anger.

Frank picked up a trashcan and was ready to throw it at the crowd.

Moon Man scrambled to grab the change left by the man, before he heard the boss's shouts. Frenzied patrons? Time to grab a weapon. He slips behind the bar, looking to see if anything had been stashed there by the previous owner. Bingo, a sawed off shotgun! [I]"Outta sight!"[/I] he says, with a grin. He grabs it, and checks it to see if its loaded. It is! Two shells, unfired. He slams it closed, before fleeing into the kitchen where the others were.

"Really? Oh sweet jesus fine." Mr Plinkett said towards both, rolling aside for cover. “Oh fuck me!” Doug broke the glass, pulling out a wooden baseball bat, clenching it. … A fat fuck furrowed his brows, as he stared out in the service counter. He rose up from his chair, seeing his fellow men and women and children go hungry. “Silence!” The crowd suddenly went silent while they stared at the fat fuck. Patiently waiting for him to speak out. The fat fucker raised his sausage fingers and turned to look at his fellowmen. “My name is Rich Evans and I have a plan! I say we all attack this restaurant for perfectly no reason whatsoever!” Rich Evans got up on the table as the crowd seemingly nodded in response. "Those hackfrauds in that kitchen have angered us long enough! Now's the fuckin time to strike back!" Rich Evans pulled out a knife, slowly raising it all the way to the ceiling while the various crowd applauded in awe. Rich Evans slowly nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

The microwave inexplicably explodes

Herman made a disgusted face when he heard the news. He remembered the times when riots happened at the joint back when he worked during its second run. He grabbed his cane that was nearby..... and unsheathed it to reveal it was actually a shikomizue! He inspected the blade... It sounds like he is saying they are already dead in Japanese.

Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho bust out from the kitchen step out to great the raging crowd of customers. Letting out a quick yell before font filping ongetting up onto the service counter. "Shit,' he muttered his breath while looking out at the crowd, "Look, sit all your monkey asses down and we're get all that late food bullshit shorted out or else I'm going to throw all your asses into the freezers my self." Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho sternly told them.

Frank tosses the trash can at the nearest person of the crowd.

"No sir we will not! There will be implausible conflict in this short plot whether you like it or not!" Rich Evan protested. "YEEEAAAH!" The crowd raised their weapons, from small straws, to pitchforks to guns.

Fragments of "Giraffes night out in Manhattan" fly into the restaurant from the ruined microwave, showering the patrons and causing mild skin irritation. The sound of the explosion rocks the entire building.

Terry clocks in, and sees the fast-food apocalypse before him. The customers want food. And lots of it. A normal grill will not do. Only something akin to the emperors finest BBQ could do. "BATTLE BROTHERS!" He cries out with almost ear-drum puncturing force. "SHORE UP THE COUNTER, I NEED TIME." Terry sprints out to the back, whispering litanies once only heard inside of the greatest of nocturne's forges, and begins constructing his magnum opus. A master-crafted Strickland-pattern grille. Room for dozens and dozens of patties. Contorting the metal of dumpsters and street lights, and the coolant lines of what may very well have been an employees car, a grille the likes of which the world had never seen was born. Terry trots to the freezer to prepare his meat for it's trial by fire.

"Well....Shit." Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho said before grabbing his machine gun and letting out a burst of lead into the crowd, aiming towards the sick and elderly. "Hey, if any of my employees come and help. I'll give might give your asses a day worth of 5% coupons." Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho yell back towards the kitchen while letting lose with his gun.

Herman, having finished inspecting his blade that his wife gave him before they left Japan, reflected on everything he's heard in the last few minutes. This place was going to go to hell if he didn't do something. He heard something about a "Meatmongoloid". This reminded him of the days when people said all sorts of shit lived in the freezer, which is why no one used it except for suicides and social experiments. He went to the freezer and began opening it.

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np0solnL1XY[/media] Rich Evans immediately fell down from the table, "OOOHHH FUUUCK!", groaning from the impact as several patrons fell on their asses on impact. Rich Evans rolled to the side while Mr Plinkett and Doug walked out of the kitchen, staring at Rich Evans with fierce intent. Doug held his baseball bat with two hands while Mr Plinkett pulled out six bullets onto to his revolver, taking a full minute to get them ready. Only have one bullet drop. "Son of a..." He saw as one of Camacho's stray bullet pierced through the jukebox. Hearing the music cave out of the box. The two sides stared at one another, holding their weapons in preparation for this totally unnecessary violence. Mr Plinkett and Rich Evans stared at each other, narrowing their eyes. "ENOUGH! LET'S GET ON WITH THE ACTION!" Rich Evans yelled out as the crowd poured into the opposite direction while the windows from the joint scattered by the incoming gang members. [t]https://static01.nyt.com/images/2012/11/30/nyregion/LABOR/LABOR-superJumbo.jpg[/t]

"Well I might as well make the most of this" Mike pulls out a bottle of whiskey and drinks from it while sitting under the counter.

"BROTHER HERMAN, QUICKLY, LOOSE THE MASCOT ON OUR FOES.", Terry screamed through his vox-caster. His first operation on this world would not fail. "THE BURGS NEED TIME." Grabbing nearly a hundred individual patties, he fell back to the grille. After applying the holy oils, he screwed the promethium tank from his heavy flamer into the gas-feed of the grille. A moment to think about the resemblance of the cries for food during the mutinies brought on during rough warp voyages was all he needed to steel his resolve. He would not fail. Almost immediately, the burgs were ready. Promethium through the nozzle of a strickland-pattern was one of the most precise sources of quick heat in the galaxy. He tested a few to make sure they were of Astartes quality. Just the right amount of char, just pink enough in the center. A smile found it's way to his lips. "One of my finest creations in years." Running to the counter with burgs in tow, Terry thought of the great glory or great shame he was about to meet at the hands of these ravenous customers.

With the lights inside the freezer activated due to last night's stakeout freakout, everything within the large icy room itself was now visible. The inside looked just as it was initially, but with a few grisly details now more blatant. The giant slabs of meat that were hanging on the meathooks didn't look like they belonged to any sort of farm animal, and neither did the steaks on the shelves that lined the wall. Corpses of cows and blood stains littered the ground, as well as a few human remains here and there. Madness was scribbled on the walls in blood, with inscriptions such as "[B]WE WERE BORN IN THE MEAT, WE DIE IN THE MEAT.[/B]", "[B]TASTE THE MEAT.[/B]", and with Meatmongoloid's resting area being adorned with many writings of "[I][B]JOIN THE MEAT.[/B][/I]" . Meatmongoloid stood in the center of it all, staring at Herman.

Everyone else is opening up, I might as well too. Moon Man takes aim, from the hip, and opens fire on the crowd with the sawed-off.

Herman stared down the Meatmongoloid for a few moments, before chuckling for a bit. Seems like something [I]did[/I] live in the freezer. He wonders if this meat beast has been here since the 30s. He spoke up: "If you're hungry, give me a roar."

As soon as Moon Man pulled out his shotgun several soccer moms yelled out "A gun in a restaurant somebody sue this place down!" "How dare you show violence in front of this kid friendly establishment!" All soon succumbed to the physical properties of gunfire as Moon Man shot one in the shoulder. A soccer mom grabbed some silverware and threw it at the Entertainer.

[QUOTE=Damian0358;50898078]"If you're hungry, give me a roar."[/QUOTE] The meatmonster did just that.

Dwayne Elizondo Mountain Dew Herbert Camacho let's out a thunderous yell as he rains down hot lead onto the hungry customers, again aiming at the sick and elderly.

Terry begins throwing the burgers at the crowd. With missile like force, they punch through at least two riotous customers at a time, but find their true destination on tables in the lobby.