Roll to Dodge!

I was just working through illustrating the next update and my colour selector key (R, default) within my paint program has decided to screw itself over.
Now, instead of simply being able to mouse over a part of a picture I'm working on and hit R to copy that colour, it instead brings up a small colour-sampler that will not go away unless I scroll off the edge of the program. It picks up every single colour that I scroll over on my way off the screen: making the tool entirely useless.
This is so annoying there aren't even words. I have no idea why the program would magically change how it works. I even uninstalled and reinstalled a new copy, and I get the same thing.

            

Anyway, I'll have it up soon.

Edit: I found a work-around. If I hit R as usual, hold the mouse still, and then hit another shortkey (one that spreads the selected colour out into a variety of shades) I can then click in the middle of that shortcut and still be able to copy-click colours of the image I'm working.
           

Purists vs. Liberals: Round 10!
Bungobaggins: Kill the Liberals
[6] In an all-or-nothing attempt to bring matters to a head, you aim your bazooka straight up into the air and fire. The force knocks you underwater, and by the time you struggle back to your feet the explosive missile has landed directly between yourself and the unconscious Ringdrotten.
...A shower of water, blood, and various bits of stick-man blow outward from the devastated stream-bed.
Ringdrotten will never be King of anything. He is practically dematerialized. His spirit floats above for a little while before floating off to join the LARPer he murdered earlier (No I haven't forgotten).
In his mad lust for the death of others, Bungobaggins has incinerated himself. The dark god Armok is finally paid for all the magical help he has given, and will enjoy Bungo's eternal servitude in whatever unpleasant place it is that dark gods live.

Azriel: Kill the Purists
[5] Surprising everyone else almost as much as yourself, you recover from the damage to your ribs and, breaking off a piece of metal RV-siding you charge across the smoking river-mess, vault the Nacho Wall, and deliver a tremendous wallop to Pettytyrant's head. It sails off into the air, a bemused (and very drunk) expression forever pasted upon his features.
Pettytyrant has passed on, hopefully there will be more Buckie in the next life.

Pettytyrant: I bit off Mrs. Figg's jelly head, as I'm the sort who always eats a jelly baby head first!
[3] You are incapable of moving your headless body, as you are dead. You feel that it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway.

Mrs. Figg:  Petty bites my head off and then two more grow in its place like a Hydra head. I sink my poisonous fangs into Petty's buttocks
[5] Poor Petty never got the chance to bite off your head... but you sprout two terrifying snake-like heads anyway! Complete with fangs! You also realize that the Purists have all died...

Ringdrotten: Stop Petty from killing the liberals by drowning him in the river
[1] You epically fail to achieve any kind of physical action... as Bungo has just blasted you both skyward.

The Jelly-monsters are taken aback at the violent show of...violence that has just unfolded before them. They quiver (heheh) in fear of the...fearsome Liberal women.
Have these Desecrators of Tolkien truly won? Is this the end for the holier-than-thou Purists???

Round 10:

P.S.
I'm not really certain where this leaves us all. Let me know what we should do. Perhaps this story will end here?

P.P.S.
If the Purists wish to submit to the results of fate (and their own bloodthirstiness) we can call this a win for the Liberals.
If so, I have an idea for a new crime mystery sleuthing game that might be a little easier to follow through to a satisfying end. (Each player would work either on their own or with others to solve the crime and apprehend the murderer. Think: Sherlock Holmes, but sillier and with less cannibal pygmies from the Indian Ocean).

We won! Too bad I'm not around to enjoy it Great finale, though, Forest I'm up for a new game, this was fun!

Excellent! I shall look into it (pending the approval of Petty's crabbit and Bungo's say-so).

Not to praise my own pixel-splatters, but I really like how Petty's flying head has some real force behind it in that picture.

We won ?... We Won ! Nur nur nee nur nur ! Up yer pipe purists !     Well played ! Ringo, if there's anything left of you, would you care to join me in a celebratory drink & salted peanuts ?   Were is Mrs Figg ? she must join in the celebrations also ? She can bring her eels if she likes ? Com'on Figgy, were are you ?   

Something a little stronger than salted peanuts are in order I think! Peanut brittle and hard cider all around!

  winning is sweet

What the ******!@!** smelly haggis arsed, **!@!!* water drinking, **!*** in the name of Eru's Mighty **!@**-**!** happened here!!!!

pending the approval of Petty's crabbit- Forest

Well now you are asking my crabbit- "NO! It doesn't **!@*!! approve, this game was *!!!!$$ with a horses **!@! worn as a little hat and two elves with shovels and bawdy smiles twatting me over the **!**@*! head- and they were **!*!!@@ liberals!

...I do think Petty's ghost may take up some haunting! He seems quite disturbed.

And really I didn't know what else to do. Azriel goes all crazy and says "Kill the Purists" and rolls a 5. What else would have happened?!



Oh well better luck next time Petty. The Purists proved they weren't capable of surviving the rigors of combatorial debate.

This is worse than the last time I had to pay for my own drink

The Mystery of Buningca-haye    Or, Not this time, Sherlock!
A Holmesian Whodunnit of Wit and Intrigue



The Setting:
It is August of the year 1885 in England. The recent invention of the steamship and the telegraph have given Imperial Britain an unprecedented influence around the world. It is the 48th year of Queen Victoria's long rule, and the power of the empire is only growing.
And yet, troubles abroad and at home give the English pause. The capture of Khartoum in the Sudan by the Mahdi (and accompanying destruction of General Gordon's forces) has shaken parliament, and, in consequence, William E. Gladstone's party has been removed in favour of the new anti-Irish Prime Minister, Robert Cecil. Irish nationalists have recently blown up parts of both Westminster Hall and the Tower of London with dynamite, while the first legal cremation has only just taken place this year. It is a strange time for the British, and London is the center of all the British strangeness.

However, our game occurs on a far smaller stage; set some distance north of London, in a small market town in Suffolk called Buningca-haye. The area around this town has lost many of it's farmers to mass emigrations to Australia and the United States, but a good number of people still call the place home.

One wealthy family in particular has stuck out the tough times in the town: the Duchesne's of Braxton Hall. In a tragic turn of events, the eldest male heir of the family, Ashby Fitzwilliam Duchesne (a portly and furiously mustachio'd gentleman), has recently been found murdered under bizarre circumstances. The event has shaken the town, puzzled the local police, and shocked Ashby's three remaining relatives: his elderly widowed aunt, Vivienne Renaud; his newlywed daughter, Arabella Duchesne-Calder; and a distant half-brother, Elliot Humphries.


The Plot:
You are an up and coming detective-constable working for Scotland Yard, the investigative branch of the London Metropolitan Police. Your higher-up has tasked you, and several other officers, with the job of traveling to Buningca-haye and unraveling the mystery of Ashby Duchesne's death. In particular, the police commissioner has asked you to see that no further harm comes to the family and to wrap up the situation swiftly.

You have been given seven days within which to investigate the situation, track down leads, and apprehend the criminals responsible for this heinous murder. If you fail to send news of an arrest by the following Tuesday night, it has been hinted that a certain private investigator of the name of Sherlock Holmes (who is currently away in the south) will be called in to "sort things out." Not wishing to submit to the shame of falling short, yet again, of the enigmatic Holmes, and desirous for advancement, you promise not to disappoint the commissioner!
You are to travel north on Tuesday night via a post train, and will arrive with your associates in the town of Buningca-haye the morning of the 12th of August, a rather stormy Wednesday.

Rules:
-Starting Equipment:
Although all the players are in truth Scotland Yard detectives, some may choose to go under-cover. In lieu of that, each player may arrive at the train station in Buningca-haye equipped in one of three ways:

London Bobby:
Equip:
You are an upstanding member of the Metropolitan Police, and you will dress the part!
-You have a truncheon concealed at your side, two sets of handcuffs at your belt, and well-tended sideburns.
-Four months pay for special expenses (12 pounds, 6 shillings)
Social Standing:
-Criminals will avoid your handsome blue uniform, but the upper and lower classes will generally be helpful towards you, either out of fear or respect.
-You are generally safe from attack.
-You may enter anywhere freely: the strong arm of the law has grown long!

Ragamuffin of the Street:
Equip:
-You are a disheveled type of person, dressed rather raggedly.
-You carry a concealed dagger, some false moustaches, and a tin case of strong pepper.
-Three months pay (9 pounds, 12 shillings)
Social Standing:
-Shunned by your betters, the lower classes will feel a sense of solidarity with you.
-Entrance to posh institutions will usually require revealing your identity to someone.
-Hard to spot by criminals in a crowd, and difficult to remember. You can mingle fairly well with the criminal factions, and may even be mistaken for one!

Respectable Gentleman/woman:
You are, or appear to be, upper class. Your stiff upper lip and highly-held chin complete the picture your fine clothing suggests.
Equip:
-Fine clothes set you above the average
-Gold timepiece on a chain
-Snuffbox
-Six months pay (19 pounds, 4 shillings)
Social Standing:
-Upper class will feel comfortable around you and open to discussion.
-Lower class distrust you but usually show deference. (Although they will often expect some compensation for their help!)

In Addition:
Every detective begins the game with the following, in addition to their preferred set-up:
-A revolver with 20 rounds (Although the London police only infrequently carried firearms post 1830 or so (a pleasant tradition they continue to this day), a spate of recent armed robberies in the early '80s have driven some in the force to equip themselves with guns. It was decided prudent for the current assignment for you to be armed).
-A police badge
-A whistle (it's sonic!    )
-A letter of recommendation from the superintendent (this confirms, for the the local constable and sergeant, your identity).

Finally, the "Liberals" from our last game all begin with 5 pounds more than the other players, and a mysterious tip-off for them alone (which shall be forthcoming).



-Gameplay:
You arrive in Buningca-haye Wednesday morning. You have until Tuesday night to discover, and apprehend, the criminals responsible for the murder. Every day will be divided into three rounds: Morning (7-12 AM), Afternoon (12-5 PM), and evening (5-11 PM).  Just like Liberals Vs. Purists, you will submit one action per turn, I will then roll on your action and post the results. If you wish to stay up one night then you may do so, but you will spend the next morning sleeping in until 11 AM.

Because Petty will probably throw a drunken fit if his rolls go the same way as last time, and because this game is about a thousand times more structured, I will use a 12-sided die with the following results (this is for reference, the descriptions of things is what will actually matter in the game):
1- Epic Fail, the action was not successful, and backfired horribly
2-3 Fail, nothing happened.
4-7 Partial success.
8-10 Success, the action was carried out adequately.
11-Epic success! The result was achieved in the most positive way possible.
12-Overshot, though the result was achieved, the action backfires horribly due to disproportionately large effort

To simulate the mystery and realities of working together (or apart) you must submit your actions in Spoilers.
I will then show you the results of your actions and mark it as "For ________ Only!"
Every night you will gather together again in a room of your Inn and share information (unless you explicitly tell me that you do not wish to do so, in which case suspicion will fall upon you from your fellow detectives and your commissioner). In practical terms, this means that noone will know what detectives in other parts of the town and area are doing on a specific day until the end of that day. After the Evening round of each day I will go back through and mark any spoiler boxes that you now can read as "Anyone May Read" (alternatively, "debriefed" ). Trust will have to rule whether our errant fingers can resist the temptation to peek.
Of course, one can choose to team up with someone else if they are amenable. And if you do not want anyone to find out what it was you were up to, simply let me know in your next action and I will keep that Spoilers box closed.

Like so:
Pettytyrant

Wednesday morning:

Morning, 12. For Pettytrant Only!:

Micellaneous:
-For those unaware, money at the time worked as follows:
12 pence to the shilling, and 20 shillings to the pound. A guinea, which I will avoid, is apparently slightly more than a regular pound sterling and is only for rich people or something. British...  

Along with your letters of recommendation, your commissioner also hands you a map of the town and surrounding area.

Buningca-haye:

Fond of the pictures & narrative you have started with, looks interesting already

Thanks very much Azriel! It might not show from all the soon-to-come mistakes in setting and historical accuracy, but I spent ages reading up on all this stuff.
Heck, I even know what the weather was like that week in England.

hopefully a basic illustration of Buningca-haye, Bruxton Hall, and the nearby countryside forthcoming!- Forest


I trust all bars, pubs and drinks cabinets will be clearly marked

love this.

I am getting out my best bustle, its a two bustle situation

I would like to be Lady Rose Summer, bored daughter of Lord Figg Poncemby from nearby Pootle Hall. She is an amateur detective, gets into dangerous situations and is totally out of her depth due to mixture of curiosity naivety and aristocratic over enthusiasm. Most likely to confront the murderer (in an exotic plant conservatory), 'I know you killed Ashby and I am sending over a telegram to the local plod post haste'.

Id be happy to be a scullery maid, they get in all sorts of places & hear all sorts of things, & do you ever really notice them ? You never know, I might even get off with a Toff

maybe Ashby is a buckie smuggler or a budgie smuggler.

Pettytyrant101 wrote: This is worse than the last time I had to pay for my own drink

Funny you should mention it, Petty. Because I think you'll find it's your round.

Still hope the bars, pubs and drinks cabinets are clearly marked?

Welcome back, blue Where have you been?

because I think you'll find it's your round- Blue


But it cant be, it was my round only recently, 1979 I think.

Hello Blue