Jump to content
News Ticker
  • IPB version 4.2 installed!

The Fabulous Mister Fox

  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won


The Fabulous Mister Fox last won the day on January 29 2018

The Fabulous Mister Fox had the most liked content!

Community Reputation

14 Good


About The Fabulous Mister Fox

  • Rank
    The Taggarung

Contact Methods

  • Website URL

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Location
  • Interests
    RPGs, Your Mom, playing RPGs with your mom.
  1. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Table top gaming

    The real question that blazes to mind reading this is "Why the hell would you RUN Star Wars with no Jedis?" I have never understood that logic. I mean, that is what makes Star Wars Star Wars. Star Wars without Jedi is just Flash Gordon. At that point, why not just play Flash Gordon? Or Trinity? Or Alternity? Or Jovian Chronicles? Or Albedo? the worst of that, I think, is that if you exclude the Jedi, you are cutting out literally HALF of the game's engine, and honestly the best half. The only reason that I was ever impressed with that game is the system by which it handled force powers and growth. The rest of it is just Dungeons and Dragons IN SPAAAACE! While we're on the subject, why not just play "IN SPAAACE!!!"? That game is great
  2. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Table top gaming

    It's true. I talked to that guy once, and he doesn't even know what a d47 is.
  3. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Pancakes vs. Waffles vs. French Toast

    We don't speak of that. It calls the Empty Ones. We have no strength left to face those hollow visages...
  4. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Pancakes vs. Waffles vs. French Toast

    I find that both are quite good. They have very different textures and their differences in preparation make each more appropriate for certain meals. However, I also have found that, since the dawn of the Age of Cycopses, it has become increasingly dangerous to prepare and eat waffles over pancakes, or flapjacks. For in the last age, the giants did cleave to the waffle for its convenient shape and ability to hold syrup without becoming soggy as quickly. In the days our fathers have left us, the mere preparation of pancakes has been shown to attract the titans and worse, to attract them with a great and mighty hunger raging in their brobdingnagian bellies no less! Why, no sooner has one added milk to flour but the ground begins to shake. The whisked egg shudders ever few moments as there is a lag between might foot falls. The meager act of introducing salt to the forming batter draws more, and more step falls in the order of marching as other beasts join the light, yellow cake based odyssey. You spoon will shake with the growing schism of quickeningly-paced footfalls as you try to introduce two tablespoons of vanilla to the batter. A conch pulled from the oceans of ages bellows out through the air and aether alike as it is sounded to announce that they have scented the half-tablespoon of grated cinnamon being stirred in. By the time that the first half-cup of batter has graced the lightly oiled iron, they will be outside your door, waiting for your delectation to finish the ancient ritual of griddle-frying... ...and wait they shall, as waffles take like, fifty fucking years to finish cooking. I mean, seriously? We can come up with a way to microwave eggs into a rubbery, disgusting mess, but we can't figure out minute waffles? Come on, industry! The hell?
  5. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Roleplay Roulette Videos

    Alright! Our new review is live. Enjoy! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiL7PZmyAIE
  6. The Fabulous Mister Fox


    I didn't make it over by the raisins. That was a touch to close to the rougher neighborhoods of the Mare Elysium for me.
  7. The Fabulous Mister Fox


    This reminds me of the time that I went into the center of the moon to look for a really fine onion. You see, when I was a younger man, the rage of the day was a fine, white onion worn atop the hat like pin, or a smelly, layered bee in one's bonnet as it were. Well, it was well known to all that the finest white onions grew at the center of that great monument to socialist communism, the Moon. Well, being one to put on airs and graces, that folks not think me a neer-do-well, or worse yet, tatterdemalion, I pitched a shiny nickel to the ferryman and took from him a ticket to the moon. The trip was a short one, but choppy as the great space river was a tad high that season. You see, the kaiser had seeded our clouds with norainium but our top scientists figured out a way to reverse the droughting process with a combination of moxie and prayer. However, the process had worked so well that the skies grew pregnant beyond the usual and we suffered many a flood and wet day! Some say that certain parts of the nation, namely Washington and Oregon have yet to recover. I hear that it's so cloudy there that vampires can flit about in broad daylight, kissing other boys and making rainbows by slapping their hands to their cheeks and squeaking loudly with joyous aplomb. Or am I thinking of homosexuals? In any event, I spent my journey in rapt thought, contemplating the whys of the wherefores, and the wherefores of the whys. With my hat tilted at a jaunty angle, and my cheek resting rakishly on my palm, I meditated deeply about what makes a lemon so damned fit for public office that you never see one fail to lose an election. Just a few weeks before then, Sven Lemonson had taken the treasured seat of County Ombudsmen, and Lemony Snicket had just been nominated to run for president. In light of the candidacy of the citrusy, ovoid fruit, all other runners had chosen to leave the race for certainty of the futility and cost of continued participation. Once, Lemon Pimento had been selected for vice president, and upon winning, his running mat, General Springstein assassinated himself. Once a formal inquiry had been imposed, it was determined that Vice President Lemon was not culpable to any charge, nor involved with the presidents unfortunate self-shootumupactionsequence, and he was placed into the highest office of our nation. I suppose that we men should consider ourselves quite happy that lemons choose to run so rarely, that we might have a chance. Then again, you'll never hear of a lemon who did his office poorly. Perhaps we are on the losing side for their rarity of action. When the ferry finally alit upon the surface of the moon, I ventured out across its pocked, and pillowy surface. There, at the docks, was a bazaar populated by a veritable cornucopia of peoples, some from as far away as New Mexico, others as far away as Little Neo Chinasburg. Folks strolled back and forth sniffing trepidatiously at the merchants wares, and the air resounded with the singing cries of its sellers. "Dates for sale, pickled jackelopes, Ten thousand year old rocks!" I was curious at the various sundry bottles of tinctures and ointments that were poised nearby, but that was merely a distraction. You see, when I was young, that is to say, younger than I am now on a temporal scale of relative linear perspicacity, the moonish bazaars were a good place to have your distractions solidified into political factions that would go to war with each other at each successive elective cycle. It was difficult, in those days, to get around when the wild ballots began to graze too close to town and the electoralites came pouring out of the heads of foppish gents, and slappish urchins alike. Great battles were fought in the streets and the moonicipal gardens until eventually everything had to quiet down so that something could be accomplished. I strode confidently past the monument to Foundlingers, including the most revered, chairman Ho Chi Moon, and journeyed along the great lunar highway towards the mighty valleys of Mare Elysium. Back then there were no hightowers or roving armies of dapper, bespectacled pug dogs and a man could be left to consider his thoughts. Such reckless introspection was a popular pass-time in those days as it was considered a great risk. Too much consideration was wont to open the otherwise law abiding fellow up to all fashions of terpretation, and discombobulary. I, however was brave and reckless (though nary was I feckless, mind you!) youth prepared to confront the various sundry monsters of the day. Why, there were many a wicked beast lurking about in my youth. The Existentialist Pilferpoop, the Objectivist Neenermeyer, the Slipdermadlion Nihil for existence. I was afraid of them none! After some time, I found myself venturing deep into the winding moon caverns where its said that the odd wind can turn a man's heart into crystal. I knew this was simply a silly tale told by superstitious yokels, however, as I was, myself a man of science. The idea of a wind that could turn a man's heart into crystal was ludicrous. I did, however, keep my eyes peeled for the very real threat of toads who's venom could turn a man's heart into Crystal Gail. It was during this journey that I met a genie who's wispy, vaporous tail had become pinched terribly between a stalagmite, and a falling stalactite. Or perhaps it with the other way round. I have never been outstandingly clear on the matter. While I have heard that one is a top, and the other a bottom, it's also been said that you can still get some oral action if you take one home from the club regardless, so I suppose it doesn't matter much. Well, this genie, whose head was like that of Varg Vickernes tiny beard was wary of me at first, but after some growling and posturing, allowed me to approach and take stock of his situation. I told him that I could help, and he responded in an elated voice that reminded me of exactly four hundred and seventy-two stag beetles engaged in an uproarious, and unmarried orgy. Well, perhaps not exactly. Maybe more like four hundred and seventy-three. Time does shave slowly away at a body's memory from time to time. Whichever it was, the voice offered me a wish of my choosing if I could save his wholly immaterial tail from being pinched between two extremely solid, and very physical rocks. Well, reward or not, I hate to see a genie in pain, so I rolled up my sleeves, spat into my hands, rubbed them vigorously together (as was the style at the time) and began to lift the rock. My muscles bulged and strained inside my pillowy skin, and a grunted laboriously against my burden. Finally, I hefted the boulder a millimeter to the side. Now it should noted that in those days, a millimeter was called a "Spoon-fed puppy's fart," and were one to call it a millimeter, then one would expose one's self as a true rube! So I hefted the great boulder no more than seven spoon-fed puppy farts to the north-east, but no less than five. Now slightly more freed than he was before, the genie leapt upon me with many hugs and purely platonic, and totally not gay-sex inducing kisses, then asked me what my heart desired. Well, I being a fella of simple taste, and few needs said I had merely come here for a fine, white onion, that I might have a chance at being named King of the Naked Mole-Rat Navel Surge (which was what we called the United States House of Representatives in those days). Well, he scratched his Varg Vickernes Tiny Beard head, and pointed out that the mighty grove of Moon Onions were but a few feet from where we stood. I happily walked over, picked the biggest, whites, most smelly layerdest onion that the world had ever seen and stuck atop my hat in the jauntiest, most rakishly hansome angle that you could imagine. The genie clapped enough times that it counted as a stadium ovation, and pointed out that he had technically done nothing, so if I chose, I could name another wish. I thought for a moment, then smiled and wished my hardest, deepest, sweetest wish possible. And that is how I finally got the forum title to be Redshirt Stormtrooper instead of Noobie.
  8. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Table top gaming

    What are these "table top RPGs" that you speak of? I do not believe that I know what they are.
  9. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Suggestions? Questions? What it do?!

    That could work out for a lot of things. OvN Star Wars (West End vs WoTC), OvN Cyberpunk, OvN D&D... I like that.
  10. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Film-Inflicted Trauma

    I'm like an Ellis Isle Immigrant. Except that you guys aren't making me change the spelling of my name to localize it. Funfact: My family was forced to change the spelling of their name at Ellis Isle, lol
  11. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Suggestions? Questions? What it do?!

    I do like that nWod vs oWod idea. hm. We are definitely doing a nWod game for halloween. a brand spanking new one. I don't want to tip our hand just yet tho. I like to keep our "next review" on the dl till we release it.
  12. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Film-Inflicted Trauma

    Ha ha ha! Fair ENOUGH! Bakshi movies tend to have that "wtf" quality, to be sure. I love the part where the fairy princess shoots the gargoyle in teh face with a blast of energy from her crotch. If you REALLY want to see that in action, I suggest watching Fritz the Cat, but I warn you that you will see cartoon cat penises. If you want something that is a bit more traditional, check out Fire and Ice or American Pop. that last one is easily is best flick.
  13. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Suggestions? Questions? What it do?!

    What's up peeps?! This is Fox, out of marketing mode and initiating warmfriendlychat.exe. Do you have any questions, comments or suggestions? What games would you like for us to see in the future? What kind of content would like enjoy? Hit me up, and I will do my best to answer! If you want to talk to one of our other producers, Jackalynn will be along later to post some of her own projects. Let me know what you think!
  14. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Film-Inflicted Trauma

    I will do that! It better be good tho... I fucking LOVE Wizards. Turbo Ralph Bakshi fan here
  15. The Fabulous Mister Fox

    Film-Inflicted Trauma

    In our spare time, we occasionally review movies! Here is our latest in that line, which is currently on hiatus while we work on our tentpole project. I hope you enjoy!