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Neural Knotwork
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Pretty self-explanatory - a giant pachinko building, if you will, hundreds of us on a team, each in our own Zorb, trying to maximize our contribution to the total team score.
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Had to Wiki those two concepts. Now I know. Was it a zorb that Peter Gabriel was dancing around the stage in in a recent performance? |
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[global] Neat idea in which I would love to participate. For the more immediate fantasy experience can you please elaborate? Then I'll plus ya. |
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What, you want me to write a UnaBubban novella describing the scenario? |
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There I was, perched atop the pachinko tower in my shimmering sphere, my teammates nodding to one another with the anticipation of the next round of rumbling, tumbling... |
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Awww, who am I kidding, I'm no UnaBubba. |
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I've seen something like this on a Japanese game show. They used smaller, hard plastic spheres that the contestants had to be folded into. "Clear Sphere of Fear", they called it. |
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I actually saw it on Spike TV, the show MXC, which is really the Japanese show Takeshi's Castle with an American sportscaster commentary dubbed in. I enjoy it and its total lack of safety equipment. |
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I looked down, scared witless. Perched in a massive hopper filled with translucent spheres, each containing a scared human like me, waiting for the game to begin. The thught crossed my mind a number of times that I was in no way being paid enough to do this. |
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Then, with the blast of a distant siren, we all began to move. Below me I felt one of the Zorbs supporting me begin to roll, lurching mine downwards and right. I felt the blood run to my head as I turned upside down inside my Zorb. I had just righted myself when it happened again. |
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Then it was my turn. A gate below me opened and I was in freefall, bouncing violently against a barrier then being slammed repeatedly between two buffers. I'd always wondered what a pinball felt like... now I knew. They spent a lot of time concussed and nauseous, a little like the passengers in a Blackhawk counter-rotating over Mogadishu, wondering where the tail rotor had gone. |
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Finally, I came to rest in front of a massive number 18, brightly coloured lights alternating and adding to my concussion. Blaring music pounded at my fragile brain. This was fucking madness! Next time I was going to pay enough to pull the lever, instead of being a ball. |
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