GYSO Reviews Part 5 - Exposition Dumps

Published: 2023-01-15

The Good

Thor:

As the sun was setting over the hill, the occasional shot could be heard from the make-shift practice range. The house, sitting idly at it’s base, had a warm glow as the river gently poured over make-shift paths made of large rocks.

As the two weapon-bearing persons safely unloaded and put away their weapons, the moment was surprisingly tense.

“What happened after that?”, the boy asked.

“Save the What Happens Next shit for the blog”, the man answered in a grumpy voice.

“Wait, I think I’m forgetting something… Right!”

The boy pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

“Says here the factory no longer forces the elfs to consume methamphetamines in order to produce more SKILL!”

“They’re called SKILLs, son. And besides, that’s just what they’re printing. They still ain’t got no union up there”.

As they walked through the front door of the house, they hung their weapons next to the complimentary seven-foot-five candy cane, that was sent as an additional gift for returning customers of the weapons factory on the North Pole.

Untying his son’s shoes, the man shifted to an ernest tone of voice, looking his son deeply right square in the two big eye-holes.

“Son, with all that’s happening, I’m afraid I might no able to complete your training before my time is due.”

“Why not?”, the boy was staring into what was obviously not a camera embedded into the man-sized candy-cane in the hallway.

“One day the war will reach us, and I will have to trust that you and your mother can get to the safe chamber, because you will need all the time you can get to reach it.”

Standing up, looking through the hallway window, watching the gentle river, and the sun, and the grass or whatever, the father contorted his eyebrows into an absurd U-shape.

“And the one thing I want you to do then, son, is to find Goopy Droopy”.

“But dad, Goopy Droopy isn’t real!”

“One day, son, you will realize that he is real. You will need his help to complete your training, and get your SKILL, son.”

The two human people with two arms and two legs each were interrupted in their conversation by a female human with another pair of arms and legs, proclaiming that dinner was on the table.

Tim:

Dinner was dinner, a real winner. Meat and potatoes and government funded acid.

But then surprise, gasp, there was a knock on the door. The father answered and gasped at the surprise, before the christmas carolers popped a cap in his bitch ass. Surprise and gasps were abound.

The mother character who was built literally to serve dinner and die, but not in a sexist way stop, died after serving dinner.

Dat boi, the boy, the son, didn’t get killed to death because the carolers were under strict order to make as many children traumatized as possilbe, so that Santa Clause could perpetuate the war longer with a new generation of people who hated him. What a jerk face.

The boi didn’t really like the idea of shooting things, but he had to anyways because the plot demanded it or something I don’t fukin know man don’t tempt me I’ll make this even more meta.

And then he was conscripted into the child army that this world totally has to fight against Santa and his army of elves and christmas carolers. Yay!

The Bad

Thor:

As the wildcard that is Tim, the canonically most inconsistent character in this universe, arose to meta levels of arbitrary storytelling, a deep haze was setting over New Dehli.

The smell of cinnamon and kardemum triggered the instant-death-shield over the city. As the herd of deer roared, their LED-infused eyeball-lights lit up the red-and-white haze above.

Two hundred thousand, seventy eight hundred, fifty nine and three quarter human bodies slammed onto the New Dehli shield. They knew the exact number because the city citizens were forced to count them exactly. They were under the threat of the elfs to level the city using ultrasonic weapons blasting the Pentatonix Christmas album on repeat.

In Canberra, the mayor was handing out candy canes that would cause a person to sing “All I Want for Christmas Is You” until they died to local citizens. As he, crying, sent a selfie of each of his victims to a chief elf, they released one of his children. Unfortunately for the mayor, he had 137 children spread across seven previous marriages and several affairs at the local melon-lesque prostitue houses.

When he was done, he looked at the rectangle he had used to save each of his children, and murder equally as many of those he swore to protect. Then he sent one last dic pic to an unwilling participant, before smashing it repeatedly into his skull - it was one of those really sturdy Nokia phones - until he collapsed on his knees, brain residue bleeding onto the Persian carpet on his office floor.

Tim:

Super Tutu the elf was angry that his retirement would be pushed back by yet another year. Damn Santa Clause and his refusal to give raises that match with the inflation rate of the North Pole. He’s a hard working employee, damnit! He should make a union.

As soon as the thought ‘make a union’ happened in Tutu’s mind, a squad of hit-elfs and a single confused yak fell out of the sky and shanked him. There would be no unionizing in the elf workshops.

The other elfs just sighed and dragged the body into a pine box and launched it into Mars for some reason. Something Santa said about ‘bringing the war to musk’, whatever that meant. They weren’t payed to ask questions, or really payed much of anything at all for that matter.

Outside the main armory workshop, a manager elf was freezing his ass off managing the construction of Santa’s new sleigh. He didn’t know anything about managing, or making sleighs, or breathing from his diaphram, but he got the job due to nepotism.

The snow pounded the little village that most of the elves, except the really weird ones no one likes to talk about, lived. It’s always snowing, except when it isn’t lmao. Still, the north pole can be cold, and Santa doesn’t pay enough for them to have indoor heating, so all the elfs not working were huddled in the town hall building to conserve their body heat.

Santa sat in his office, plotting war and warring plots.

The Everything Else

Thor:

Katherine,

Something has been troubling me as of late. As of so far to be true the Elf forces have outnumber and outskilled the terror. But there have been a mysterious change of tide in the warfront. The day being of yesterday’s yesterday the big platoon of the big men being as to far as strategically outmanouvering in strategic and manouvering manners. But there were large uncertain rumours of speculation that socially deployed of a sight-seeing being of a \\ ~¥111V((($ŋªþœ!

Still, we must hold out hope that we will find a way to counter Santa’s big dongus energy on the battlefields. He has taken most major cities on the planet, and we pray that we live here to see another day.

xoxo send nudes, the kid from the beginning, except chronologically probably a lot older now

P.S. i fuked ur mom lolololololololol ¯_(ツ)_/¯

Tim:

The kid from the beginning of this post, the one who fucked up and let his parents die, because it was all his fault and we should all blame him publicly for it. That kid. He grew up, although not really, into a big ol’ shoulder soldier, and now he’s dieing because he was gut shot by a chicken with a silly hat who was just trying to have fun.

He lays potato chipped below the sakura tree that doesn’t fit the geography of the area at all and existed only for dramatic anime moments. Nobody was around to help, because they all hated him for getting his parents killed, like the total loser bitch ass he was.

Whatever, the point is is that he is, or was I should say because fuck tense, dying. There was hyper realisic blood and hyper realistic realism, and hyper realistic absurdism, and yet more anime bullshit. A dog barked, but not like the noise, but like a tree isn’t that a fun play on words. The dog didn’t help the kid-man person either.

But suddenly, a shadow approached him. He looked up to see…

The Conclusions

Thor:

wOW! tHANKS FOR READING THIS PART OF gyso REVIEWS EXPOSITION DUMPS! For those not in the know, the team behind GYSO, and an (probably) unwilling participant, have been watching bad movies for a good few years. So we really should have the bad lore dumps on lock. Now, let me check…

Yup! Mission failed successfully. As a GYSO post, I think they all are perfect exposition dumps. With that said, we are threading new grounds here. As in needle and thread, I’m hemming some curtains rn that are a bit too long, scraping against the floor. So I’m threading the curtain to the floor sweetly with my spike gun so it doesn’t scrape along the floor anymore.

Score: single melons in your area / immorally produced weapons at the hand of North Pole Elfs

Tim:

Goopy Droopy floated over the wounded soldier. He had smelled the future, and it was essential that he tell this souldier the prophesy.

“Greetings, young one. I am Goopy Droopy, of King William the fourth, of the future and the past. You have a very special destiny, friend. Will you bear to listen?”

The soldier didn’t really do much, on account of being gut shot god damn Goopy get it together.

“I have a prophesy, soldier. Listen carefully. The answer lies in getyourskillson.com.”

Goopy Droopy floated there aqwardly for a bit, watiing for any reaction at all. The soldier kinda grunted and that was enough.

“Now, I shall give you a new name. From hense forth you will be known as Big Erectus Babe. Go forth and spread the word, and you will live a life worth your parents lives.”

Then Goopy floated away to do whatever it is he does when not explicitly written in GYSO.