FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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Scene 1: The simpleton hobo snorkeled, post-cataclysm, in a franchised RoachMotel pool whilst a crabby, carbuncled & festooned salesman wielding a squeegie devoured a giant earwig. -
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the game was over, we put our balls away and exchanged false phone numbers. That was the last I saw of my hermaphrodite lover, until seven years later, in Paris. S/he was at a cafe -
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Alone, old man Suzuki lived a quiet, rural life in a decrepit hut near Kyoto, the ancient city where his dreams had been crushed, his fortune seized, and his only son kidnapped. -
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in the lemon curd. They really were quite adorable. Suddenly, a horrid thought crossed my mind - what of all the other bubblegum Pop-Tarts senselessly slaughtered in the name of -
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" they moaned ironicly. "Good one." I repled unenthusiastically. "Rude!" said the Mrs, Zombie as they shuffled away. I loooked up and shouted at them, "Hey! Your STENCH is rude!"