Funny / The Gamer's Alliance

Despite all the drama going in the world of tGA, there's always time for a silly moment or two to balance the seriousness every now and then.

  • Bashkar the pirate is introduced to King Agarwaen in a highly unorthodox manner when he ends up teleporting into the castle:
    "Ok, where is this Bashkar now?" the king asked anxiously.
    Reno attempted to answer. "He's....err.....he kind of...ahh...."
    Suddenly, Bashkar appeared out of thin air above the king, and landed on top of him with a thud.
    "...he's on your lap," Reno pointed out.
  • Any scene The Soap is in. It's basically a soap which can levitate and has a will of its own. It also has a clean dirty mouths everywhere. Which people who come across it tend to learn pretty quickly if they happen to utter a bunch of expletives...
  • The Guy Who The Gods Like To Pick On. The gods...really like to pick on him:
    It was such a fine day that the Guy Who The Gods Like To Pick On wondered when it would be screwed up. He'd found a job! All he had to do was deliver 100 loads of manure from a farmer's field outside of Reno to a processing plant in the city, and the pay was terrific.
    With his first cart, the Guy approached the city gates.
    "'Sup, guard," said the Guy.
    "'Sup Guy," said the guard. "What can I do you for today?"
    "I got these hundred loads of shit to carry in today," said the Guy.
    "Oh, buuurn," said the guard. "You do know that today is mandatory cavity search day, right? Security's been up since the attack on Lord Kagawest."
    The Guy groaned. Of course something would go wrong. He put his hands against the castle wall and squeezed his eyes shut, wincing when he heard the latex glove being snapped onto the guard's hand. He gritted his teeth and endured the body cavity search, and then hitched his trousers back up as the guard waved him in.
    "Er...hey, wait," said the Guy.
    "'Sup, Guy?" asked the guard.
    "Aren't you going to write down that I passed somewhere? You know, for all the other times I'm going to have to go through the gate today? I got a hundred loads of shit here, that's 99 more times in and 100 more times out!"
    "Sorry, Guy," said the guard, "It's mandatory cavity search day. We've got to check everybody, coming in and going out, even if we know them."
    "But...but..." stammered the Guy.
    "Hey," said the guard, "I don't make the rules, I just gotta enforce 'em. Sorry, Guy."
    The Guy waddled into the city. He'd known something would spoil his birthday. At least he wasn't in Yamato, though.
    The Guy Who The Gods Like To Pick On carried his prize home. He'd spent his whole paycheque on it, but he wanted to make sure that it was quality stuff. He couldn't have it break on him.
    Carefully, lovingly, he tied the noose. Standing on a makeshift stool, he securely tied it to a stout branch on an oak tree and pulled it tightly around his neck. With a manic grin, he then kicked the stool away as hard as he could.
    The rope split like twine, dumping the Guy on his ass.
    "This was supposed to be the strongest rope in the Kingdom!" he whined.
    And now he had no money.
  • Hageoyaji d'Arioc proves that sometimes liberal translation isn't the best translation strategy out there. But at least he has other skills that compensate for that:
    Hageoyaji d'Arioc, Translator Extraordinaire, walked semi-confidently down the road. He didn't really know where he was, other than in the nation of Libaterra, and didn't particularly care, now that he'd escaped the Yamato. For a translator of his skills, there would always be work somewhere. Hopefully, it would turn out better than his job with the Emperor.
    ''Emperor Ofuchi gazed out over the mass of Chaos Dwarves that had gathered outside of Kusomachi. The Dwarves had been causing disturbances lately, and the Emperor had arrived in an attempt to calm them down diplomatically.
    "<<Hear my words, O Dwarves of Kusomachi,>>" declaimed the Emperor. "<<Your concerns have not fallen on deaf ears. My agents will be coming forth to hear your complaints, and I give you my word as Emperor that they will be dealt with accordingly. It is the right of every citizen of our great Empire to bring their petitions before the Emperor.>>"
    Hageoyaji pondered the translation for a moment, and then faced the Dwarves.
    Loudly, in their language, he announced "::You're all a bunch of whining pisstacks. Fack off!::"
    He supposed that his translation was a little bit liberal, but he was sure that that's what the Emperor had meant to say. There'd really been no need for all of those guards running him out of town like that. And Hageoyaji hadn't even been paid for his work! It was an absolute outrage. That was the last job that he'd ever do for Takeshi Ofuchi, that's for sure.
    Hageoyaji shook his head sadly as he paused for a rest. It was sad, what the world was coming to. Such things never would have happened back in good old Scundia, of course. Hageoyaji loved Scundia. It was hard not to love a country where you were smarter than everybody. Good money to be made, there.
    It was then that Hageoyaji realized that he was surrounded by ninjas.
    "Fackin' hell," he muttered to himself in Scun. "Fackin' slanty-eyed bastards never know when to give up, do they?"
    The ninjas circled the old man menacingly. Hageoyaji'd always thougth that ninjas were supposed to be stealthy, and make their kill before the target knew they were there, but these ones, it seemed, were cocky. The circle tightened around him, cutting off avenues of escape. With each passing moment, the ninjas got closer...and closer...and closer.
    So Hageoyaji ripped a juicy fart. The ninjas, one after the other, fainted, and Hageoyaji went around and cut their throats, then nicked their purses.
    There was good money to be made in Libaterra, too, it seemed.
    Further down the road, he saw a cart, and flagged it down.
    "Pardon me, good sir," he said, "I am a translator looking for work, and it occurs to me that the government of Libeterra could use my services. Would you be so kind as to direct me to the capital?"
    The cartman smiled. "And how would you be sayin' that in your native language, old man?"
    Hageoyaji pondered for a moment, and then said, "Where the fack's the capital, ye stupid bastard?"
    "Oh," mused the cartman, "A Scun." He described the shortest path to the capital along federally protected roads.
    "Thankee, good sir," said Hageoyaji. "You might want to watch the road up ahead—there's supposed to be an obstruction of some sort. Something along the lines of a bunch of dead ninjas."
    "I'll watch out for it," said the cartman.
  • A group of Scuns unknowingly make fun of the politically correct speech of the Maar Sulais court at the grand ball which has been set up to welcome the arrival of Grand Alliance. The scene quickly takes a turn for the bizarre as the Scuns' choice of words causes quite a stir:
    An impromptu ball was being held in the Citadel of Maar Sul to celebrate the impending arrival of the Grand Alliance. As the hall filled out, a herald was announcing each new arrival as they reached the gates. The Scuns were the first to arrive, as they'd been told there was an open bar.
    "His Royal Majesty, King Gerard, and his companion Elena," announced the herald. All heads turned to regard the boy King. The crown sat askew on his head, and he was dressed in a robe of finest ermine, but nobody was looking at him.
    A Scunnish voice was the first to speak: "The King's here with a n***!"
    "What? A n***? With the King?"
    "Holy crap it's a n***!"
    Gerard facepalmed. "Please stop using that word, you're embarassing me." Elena just scowled.
    "It's just not every day we see a King waltz in with a n***, Your Majesty. We don't get many n*** in Scundia."
    "You're not stopping."
    "Hell yeah, Your Majesty, once you go black, you never go back!"
    "The King can't be a n***-lover!"
    "STOP SAYING N***!" roared Gerard.
    "We're just saying, a King with a n*** is pretty weird. We didn't know you were into n***s," replied a Scun, pronouncing a row of asterisks effortlessly.
    "I'm not with Elena because she's a n—um, because she's dark. I like her because she's smart, she's funny, and she's built like a brick shithouse. Bernie's dark and I don't want to kiss him."
    Bernard Jeremy, the Governor of Hellespont, assumed a look of mock dismay. The mock part flew right over the heads of the assembled Scuns.
    "Holy Mardük! Bernie's a feg!"
    Miyuki, standing beside her aide Jason, interjected: "Bernie is not a 'feg,' gentlemen. His Majesty was simply making a point, and you are making asses of yourselves."
    "I always said that Maar Sul was trouble," muttered a Scun, "They've got fegs all over the place."
    "I'm not a feg," stated Bernie clearly.
    "Bernie is not a 'feg,'" repeated Miyuki. "Do you Scunnish gentlemen perhaps remember my husband, Prince Leon? The one who took you in when you had nowhere else to go? He is a feg." Jason cringed.
    "Holy crap!"
    "No way!"
    "Does Leon like to boink n***s too?"
    "Please stop saying that word," repeated Gerard, shaking his head.
    "It's true," continued Miyuki, "Before we were married, Leon was always trying to score with my brother Kaz."
    "Was Kaz a n***?"
    "But Leon's married to you now! You have a kid! He's not a feg anymore!"
    "Don't be a dipshit, you can't stop being a feg."
    "Would you please stop using that word too?" said Gerard plaintively.
    "Which word, feg or n***?"
    "Both of them."
    "Bloody pain in the ass, that is."
  • Scun Stew, proof that many things in life can be both wonderful and terrifying:
    A recipe supposedly taught from one Scun cook to another, this stew is older than the Second Age, prepared by families throughout the land as a hearty feast. Abraham's version is unique in that it lacks the mystery meat emblematic of Scun cuisine - those poor rats don't deserve such a fate. Instead, he uses smoked pork, which at least has the guarantee of not being a repurposed pet.