Funny: Fallen London

  • The more difficult option on the "Her barbed tongue" opportunity card:
    "You spit foul recriminations and vicious calumny. Ladies faint dead away and gentlemen stagger under the barrage. Your target runs, weeping, with her hands over her ears. You follow her! Your tirade continues in the street, where hansoms careen hastily off and urchins fall from rooftops. You pick up your victim's dropped letters and wave them as a final salute. You are spent."
  • Also, the second option of the "supply information to a foreign power" storylet. "Your contact can't write fast enough. He breaks a pencil. Another pencil. Russia is sinking! Fallen London will annexe the tomb-colonies! Mr Wines is marrying the skeletal corpse of a nun! The Spider-Council is holding a debutantes' ball! It's almost impossible to stop once you've started. Just keep talking. Everything will be fine."
  • The second option of the "Publish a scientific article" storylet where "It appears that you have showed them all. Furthermore, it seems very unlikely that they will laugh at you again."
    • In addition, you can get thrown out of the University. The description of this status says, verbatim, "They laughed at you and so on."
  • If you fail at asking a bat for work, you get the message, "Can bats look affronted? Apparently they can. You wouldn't think they had the requisite facial muscles."
  • Writing an opera that is "a light comedy about the lives of the saints".
    "Oh, but what a jolly little opera you have written. You establish your mood quickly. The first song has St Augustine chasing Manichaeans off with a broom. The audience chuckles nervously. The Empress doesn't seem to be offended, so the work continues. Two bishops in the front row walk out during You'll Have To Stand Still If You Want To Be A Martyr. The Bishop of Southwark promises to do something very secular to you."
  • If a "friend" tries to give you a Starveling Cat and you accept, the game will give you this message:
    The Starveling Cat has moved into your Lodgings. May God have mercy on our souls.
  • When asking the Shivering Relicker to recertify your scraps, you may get "A straight answer, at least: 'You know what that is? It's rubbish.'"
  • The Alt Text for one snippet about the Starveling Cat: "Yes, it can haz cheeseburger. It can haz anything it wants!"
  • If you lost your Correspondence Stones, you later get a chance to buy them back with a large amount of Prisoner's Honey. If you do, you get this message:
    The librarian swaggers off, presumably to open a string of honey-dens. You are left alone with your stones. There's blood on one and ash on another, but they're definitely yours. It's like meeting old friends. Old friends that occasionally set you on fire.
  • During the "Bag a Legend" ambition, one will eventually travel to the Convent of the Sisterhood. The Mother Superior finds it necessary for her initiates to test one's mettle:
    You dodge the first fusillade of bullets, and kick over a table for cover. Two tiny nuns with daggers leap over it and stab at you. While you're dealing with them, that big bruiser with the axe hacks your makeshift defence into kindling. A novice tosses throwing blades at your face.

    Few people are violently disposed towards nuns by nature. However, these particular sisters will tear you into chunks unless you defend yourself. You pull a bayoneted rifle from the wall and lay about yourself with it, sending wimples flying. You bludgeon, stab and shoot your way through the sacred warriors. You run out of nuns before you run out of bullets.
  • The second option success on the "Dealing with an Assassin" card. You send the assassin a box of chocolates and an insulting note. This gets him so angry that he marches to your door and knocks on it furiously. You respond by dropping a coal bucket on him from the upper floor window, then loot the unconscious body.
  • A bit meta, but there is one player who takes every opportunity they get to send the head developer Alexis Kennedy rats-on-a-string every time the relevant card comes up. At the Feast of the Exceptional Rose, this happened. And then this.
    • It gets even better when they decided to test how many words the message box will allow. At 4 am.
    • And once more, the rat game continues. Literally.
    • There is now a category in the inventory named "Ratness". You have Contraband, Academic, Wild Words, Curiosities, Elder, Cartography, Advantages, Goods, Influence, Legal, Luminosity, Rubbery, Rag Trade, Wines, Rumour, Nostalgia, Mysteries and...Ratness. Alexis Kennedy says it was actually always intended to be a division, but got a bit lost - that certain player's antics inspired FB games to sort it out.
  • After acquiring a particularly menacing jade idol, you're presented with a list of things to do with it. Leave it, lock it away, feed it the blood of small animals, or feed it the blood of small animals after inviting an audience around first ("because no-one has anything quite this sinister").
  • Many parts of Seeking Mr Eaten's Name are pure Nightmare Fuel, but ever so often amusing snippets can find their way in.
    • The Snicket Warning Labels gradually become longer and elaborate to the point of absurdity. In particular:
    • The funniest part is that someone picked that option, and their character wasn't destroyed. The player's response to this was to submit a polite bug report.
    • At one point, you're asked why you seek the Name. One possible answer is "It's cheaper than a divorce."
      "Excuse me," she says. "I seem to 'ave mislaid me sense of yoomour. I 'ad it a moment ago, I swear. Just before you started talkin' out of yer arse."
    • Devouring your own entry in Slowcake's Exceptionals:
      "I was hungry," you say as you tear the page from the book, "and you gave me only the pelt of trees. I was thirsty, and you gave me only ink. I was mmff mff ff mm. Mmm hmm fm." Your mouth is full of paper.
  • One of the gifts at the Feast of the Exceptional Rose was "A Tear-Drowned Collection of Incomprehensible Love-Poems", which was written by someone under the pseudonym of "Mrs. Frontispiece" (quote marks and all). The descriptions for it are hysterical.
    The contents are smeared and mostly illegible. You may never find out if the author managed to find a rhyme for "cohabitude". [...] The pages crack with salt. The ink is a briny smear. Only fragments remain: "Oh, furnial passion, hot as the glance of stars!" "...the palputating beat of my hear..." and the disturbing " love; will you reciprocreate?"
    • And your character tries to guess who could possibly have written it... (In case the cromulence didn't tip you off, it's probably Mr. Pages.)
    To ensure everyone knows that "Mrs. Frontispiece" is a pseudonym, the true author has diligently hung the name with quotation marks every time it appears. But who were they, really? Perhaps some slim clue remains. You find a page with an unsmeared fragment of poetry.
    "Your eyes are inglobulant as pocketed toads,
    your teeth are fortifically straight.
    I long for the expositous tone of your voice,
    and your sighs elegiate."
  • The whole Rattus Faber infestation story...just...seriously, while the LB are quite dangerous in-story (being sapient and extremely good with mechanical systems), the battle with them have texts that escalate the whole thing into Mundane Made Awesome levels! An example of a choice you can make:
    The battle of the pantry: defend it against all comers!: "The rats are after your victuals! The pantry is a crucial battlefield. You will protect your last packet of Mr Murgatroyd's Fungal Crackers with your life!"
    On success: "It's hard to get a good swing in a small pantry, so you settle for jumping up and down on the horde of rats that come for your comestibles. Your milk jug is smashed in the fracas, but you have shown them! They shall not have your dinner!"
    On failure: "They came. They came by the dozen. They came by the hundred. You fought them. You fought like a cornered beast, but there were too many. They took them. Damn the little furry bastards. They took your crackers!"
    • The battle in general has a very WWI-esque feel to it. You can attempt to negotiate during a ceasefire, duck in cover behind tables (a bit like trenches) when tactics go awry, you can engage in a battle of attrition (the aforementioned defense of the pantry) and... play cricket with the enemy for a bit of competition and fun (reducing Nightmares if you win!), after which they go back to shooting.
    • If you have a Starveling Cat, you can get the option to "unleash the Thing from the Wardrobe".
  • For the 2014 Festival of the Zee, you can hire a fishing boat on Mutton Island and go fishing and may land a catch depending on the "Running Battle..." quality. You may catch:
    "If you crossed a pumpkin with a lobster you'd get the front end of whatever this is. The other end is best undisclosed."
    "Your catch is inconveniently ambulant. It keeps trying to wander grumpily back into the water. You give it a good talking to and hit it with an oar."
    "Oh, look. Just what fish needed: pedipalps. You get a close look at them as it gamely tries to catch your head in a net of sodden silk."
  • Also from Mutton Island this year, you can pick up an armored Pre-Emptive Guinea Pig. And he counts as a weapon, not a pet/companion.
  • If you're a Correspondent, the message when you get your pay reads:
    "Your investigations bear fruit. Occasionally the fruit is on fire."
  • When the Brass Embassy has a backlog of paperwork, you can get a temp job there, and:
    "Who knew there were so many evildoers in the world? Or that so few of them knew how to spell?"
  • The failure text for the first option on the "A meeting with cats" Shadowy card:
  • The "peace offering" from a certain rage-inducing deity as part of the Christmas Advent Calendar. Which turns out to be — naturally — a pair of dice. Forged from Hell-related materials.
    We've had our differences. But this is Christmas. Best wishes, the Fallen London Probably Random Number Algorithm.
  • A character without a specified gender will be referred to as "ah, Si-, er, Mad-, er, yes,". Amusing from an urchin. Moreso in stuffy, official correspondence.