FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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-lad and Putin had ordered the borscht. Orange blinked a few times and rolled about on his chair as he remembered how he had gotten there. The limo driver had been surly. Could it -
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and firmly remove it. Then it began to tickle him under the arch of his foot, his only ticklish spot. He decided, zombie or not, this was the women he'd been looking for. -
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use he was so sick from the pills he had found in the dumpster the night before. "You're a party pooper, Rattus," the other two Rattuses sneered as they swilled the poisoned brew.
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as big as a Clufwaang soared over him, accompanied by the sound of a thousand grieving angels. Fagan knew that this meant it was time, time for it all to end. What hope was left? -
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The discipline of the high has always escaped me. How can one truly enjoy working while blasted out of his mind, or truly enjoy his high while numbing his mind with work? Luckily