FoldingStory is a group storytelling game.
Enter the fold.
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I had barely survived a Toxoplasma Gonzii infection, only to have bookworms infect my brain. I danced recklessly over cars during rush hour, lured by paper dust and deckled edges, -
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Slappy the Mad Clown, Custer, Mrs. McGurk, the Asian woman. And all of the writers here are all subject to characterization. "Why do you ask?" The PurpleProf asked. The little boy -
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But he rode that bus to work and back. He ignored the stops and just kept riding, no matter how many others boarded. One day that bus ran out of fuel, so he found himself a new bus -
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in horror, their rotting lips curled upwards in disgust. The fetid stench emanating from my armpits repelled all of the rancid, decaying zombies until I was standing alone in the -
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in Pittsburgh that is devoted to compiling every name ever thought of in all the world. Even the kooky ones. But none of these rang a bell to him. He had just about given up when