Choose your own story, CM Edition!

[Build_R_]

I'm going to try to start up a choose your own story style of writing for this story since I think it might be some fun and let people be involved. For anyone who doesn't know what a choose-your-own-story is, it's a story where, at certain times the protagonist will be presented with a decision and the reader makes it for them. For this, the community can vote on the next option and I'll write for that most voted option. And now, the beginning...




A choking taste in his throat grabbed Jim from his sleep. The intoxicating dreams of luxury, wealth and laughing at commoners fled from his mind as he could feel himself returning back to the harsh reality of his cheap and dusty bedroom once again. He clumsily rolled over in his bed and planted his bare feet on the metallic floor. "Conor!" he yelled out in a half exhausted half whining tone, eyes still shut. "Conor were you cooking again? It smells like a damn-." Jim opened his eyes slowly, a hazey dancing red shape started to materialise as his brain tried to come to terms with waking up early. "FIRE!!" He howled as his adrenaline kicked his brain into gear. "Oh Christ, why?!" Jim asked no one in particular as he raced to his door to avoid the blazing flames slowly creeping their way from the corner of the room up the walls.

Like he was being controlled by a puppeteer using performance-enhancing drugs, Jim bolted down the hallway, arms flailing screaming the words "Fire! Fire!" repeatedly. He arrived swift as ever to alert his Sergeant several rooms over. He started banging the door with his fists. "Macrov, open up sir!" Jim received no reply. "I fucking swear this isn't a joke! Open the door, we've got a fire and the alarms aren't working!" Uncomfortable silence was his reply. Jim then began, in a tactically revolutionary procedure, to bang on the door again but harder this time. "SIR, WAKE UP!" He looked up and down the hallway, to his left was his room and the maintenance closet, to his right was the rest of the dorms, including the officer bunks where he could try alerting other people.



Now for the choices, just reply A, B, C etc. to put a vote in.
(A): Jim heads left, back into his room and tries to put out the fire any way he can.
(B): Jim heads left, down the hall into the maintenance closet and tries to find some tools so he can get into Sergeant Macrov's room and wake him.
(C): Jim heads right, to the rest of the dorms to look for someone to help him.

Note: Can't guarantee a quick post after votes

[KennyTGuy]

C please amigo

[Weaselburg]

I'm going to try to start up a choose your own story style of writing for this story since I think it might be some fun and let people be involved. For anyone who doesn't know what a choose-your-own-story is, it's a story where, at certain times the protagonist will be presented with a decision and the reader makes it for them. For this, the community can vote on the next option and I'll write for that most voted option. And now, the beginning...




A choking taste in his throat grabbed Jim from his sleep. The intoxicating dreams of luxury, wealth and laughing at commoners fled from his mind as he could feel himself returning back to the harsh reality of his cheap and dusty bedroom once again. He clumsily rolled over in his bed and planted his bare feet on the metallic floor. "Conor!" he yelled out in a half exhausted half whining tone, eyes still shut. "Conor were you cooking again? It smells like a damn-." Jim opened his eyes slowly, a hazey dancing red shape started to materialise as his brain tried to come to terms with waking up early. "FIRE!!" He howled as his adrenaline kicked his brain into gear. "Oh Christ, why?!" Jim asked no one in particular as he raced to his door to avoid the blazing flames slowly creeping their way from the corner of the room up the walls.

Like he was being controlled by a puppeteer using performance-enhancing drugs, Jim bolted down the hallway, arms flailing screaming the words "Fire! Fire!" repeatedly. He arrived swift as ever to alert his Sergeant several rooms over. He started banging the door with his fists. "Macrov, open up sir!" Jim received no reply. "I fucking swear this isn't a joke! Open the door, we've got a fire and the alarms aren't working!" Uncomfortable silence was his reply. Jim then began, in a tactically revolutionary procedure, to bang on the door again but harder this time. "SIR, WAKE UP!" He looked up and down the hallway, to his left was his room and the maintenance closet, to his right was the rest of the dorms, including the officer bunks where he could try alerting other people.



Now for the choices, just reply A, B, C etc. to put a vote in.
(A): Jim heads left, back into his room and tries to put out the fire any way he can.
(B): Jim heads left, down the hall into the maintenance closet and tries to find some tools so he can get into Sergeant Macrov's room and wake him.
(C): Jim heads right, to the rest of the dorms to look for someone to help him.

Note: Can't guarantee a quick post after votes

C

[Build_R_]

Alrighty, gonna start writing the next bit tomorrow, get any last minute votes in before then if ya want.

[Build_R_]

By tomorrow I of course meant a week later. Anyways..

Option chosen: (C): Jim heads right, to the rest of the dorms to look for someone to help him.

Jim decided to head to the dorms room to find someone else to help him. He turned and sprinted down the lengthy hallway, abandoning his room and Macrov's. Jim tried hard not to think about all of the electronics, clothes and other extremely flammable objects he had left in his burning room. The cold metal of the flooring made Jim shiver as he planted one bare foot in front of the other. He was nearing the corner of the hallway. No warning lights or sirens were active to indicate the imminent danger, there was only the uncomfortably bright LED lighting that illuminated the hallways, and the dull humming that those lights produced. He looked behind him once before turning the corner and noticed a trail of smoke beginning to seep out of his doorway. "Shiiiiite," he thought to himself, he had forgotten to close the door. There was no time now to head back for it, "Forget it, better keep goin'." he thought to himself as he continued onwards.

As Jim turned the corner, he began to notice voices coming from up ahead through the dormitory entrance. The voices came into focus as Jim approached the doorway. There was at least two people there, definitely. He could distinctly hear the familiar high-pitched whiny voice of his bunkmate, Conor, the bastard must have run ahead earlier to get help. There was someone else there too, a booming voice that reverberated along the walls causing Jim to feel vibrations beneath him. "Oh, why did it have to be him..?" Jim complained, who was feeling particularly sorry for himself today. He opened the door to the dormitory, and stepped inside to find a room filled with dozens of empty bunks and, standing in the middle of the room, was a whimpering Conor and an aggravated man pointing his mateba at Conor.

Conor wasn't a person who warranted a mateba pointed at him for any reason, he was a pathetic, lanky man of average height who was soft in physique and softer in personality. The mere sight of a higher-up was usually enough to bring him halfway to tears. Needless to say, he had completely broken down in this situation. The man pointing a mateba at Conor was Major Briggs. A slightly taller person, he was also overweight with a uniform that struggled against that fact, on his over-stretched shirt he wore a collection of medals that turned out to be a collection of polished coins upon closer inspection. At the end of Major Briggs' ham fists were his sausage fingers which grabbed the mateba fiercely, threatening Conor with death if he even began to consider making a run for it. The Major was apparently at his wits end, spluttering about Conor's mistakes, his fuck-ups and his accidents. The words 'treachery' and 'traitorous' were thrown about like a baseball in zero gravity. Conor's rebuttal was equally sensible, a stream of apologies and begging flowed out alongside a river of tears. Jim had to do something, a fire was still spreading with nothing to stop it, but he also had to fix the issue with the man currently trying to shoot his bunkmate.

Options to vote on:
(A) Try to interrupt the argument and let them know about the fire
(B) Calm down both people and try to de-escalate the situation
(C) Take the opportunity to yell at Conor and side with Major Briggs.

[edgardo]

A, save private connor guys.

[KennyTGuy]

Sorry it took me a while uf youre moving this to new forums id like to vote A