oh god wut

i awaken. i don't know it at the moment, but this day marks my fourth straight year of existing in the dogscape. i push myself up from the carpet of writhing, twitching dogflesh beneath me and rise to my feet, stretching in the morning sun. it took me a while to learn to balance on the layer of solid dogs that now blankets every inch of solid ground, but nowadays i can walk and run as easily and as fast as i ever did on soil or concrete. perhaps faster.

this was a city once, i think, though which one i can't remember. i only owe my guess to the massive pillars of dogs jutting into the sky, perhaps ancient buildings now completely filled and overgrown by canine biomatter. i climbed one once, sinking my fingers and toes deep into the dogwall to gain purchase, and after hours and hours of climbing was rewarded with an incredible vista - fur and eyes, panting tongues and wagging tails, hugging the contours of the once-barren land and stretching in a single aeomebic mass farther than the eye can see.

now i don't do that, though. now i merely go about my day. i hike to the Gardens, where the dogplants sprout up in bizarre shapes from the floor of the dogscape, and reach up to pluck the fetal puppyfruits right off the wagging, energetic branches. i bite into the succulent flesh, the juices dribbling down my chin and dripping down to be reabsorbed by the groundflesh, and revel in the savory taste. i'm thirsty, so i range until i find one of the Mothermounds, and there i suckle at a teatpatch until i've had my fill of milk. sometimes i see other humans around me, as well-adapted to the dogscape as i am, but i barely acknowledge them, say nothing. what, after all, is there to say? the world is different now - what meaning would our old words have?

free-ranging dogs are becoming rarer and rarer to see now, and those i do see seem as lost, as passive as i am. they too graze on the dogplants, step carefully over the undulating, bleeding dogfloor, dimly acknowledge myself and one another. in the distant sky, and on the far horizon, i sometimes see massive forms sail or crawl or undulate, and i wonder if in this new world normal, singular, ambulatory dogs have become as obsolete as i am

i dug down once. down beneath the dogs. beneath the hair and the ears and the barking. it was hard, and took a lot of planning - i had to destroy one of the dogtrees with my hands, rip out the twisted, yards-long communal spines that served them as branches and lash them together with tendons and skin. but soon i had tools - pitchforks, spears, shovels. i picked a spot where the dogfloor seemed shallower and set to work.

the blood started spurting when my spear first broke the surface, and didn't stop for hours and hours and hours. i was drenched in gore and viscera, covered in flecks of bone and meat and brain. but i learned to ignore the sickening squelching sounds, ward off the smell, and just kept going deeper and deeper, spearing and levering out dogs of stranger and stranger size and build, dogs with two heads, dogs with human hands, dogs with writhing tentacles where their back legs should be

eventually i came to the end of the dogs. or perhaps the beginning of whatever lies beyond dogs. an expanse of multicolored, patchwork fur that extended as far as i could dig in any direction. i could pierce it with great difficulty but it barely bled, and try as i might i could only barely peel the skin away, revealing a layer of striated greyish muscle beneath. it started to tremble as i watched it, shaking the very dogmatter around me, and i realized that the dogscape was beginning to regenerate itself, close in over me, seal me in - so i fled, climbing back up into the light

Tics are the only things that seem to like this place.

They're everywhere. During the evenings I can see massive clouds of the bastards flitting across the matted surface, making the flesh of the Dogscape quiver as they drink their fill. Sometimes canid legs of various size and deformity burst through the surface to scratch at them. It doesn't work. All the dogscape gains are vast stretches of scar marks, which the fleas feed upon.

Sometimes I rest on the side of a large outgrowth and only realize it's a monstrous tic. They latch on to one of the Deep Arteries of the Dogflesh and endlessly leech of the new world's lifeblood.

I saw a man once. It was hot that day. I was making my way for a dogpillar and saw him in the distance. He wasn't moving and as I approached I saw why. He was covered in tics. Not a single spot on him was clear. What little clothes remained on him were stretched over the fuckers There was no wind, so all you heard was the faint scuttling of their tiny legs scratching against their ludicrously swelled bodies. He must've heard me, because he opened his mouth and tried to say something. His voice was raspy, and his mouth was red, but he did manage to say one word.

Itch.

The Dogscape. That's what we call it. Us humans that banded together, I mean. We sit around campfires and cook the whelps we collect from the dogtrees. The only flammable material we have is the acrid fur that grows everywhere. It offends all senses, but soon the meal is prepared. The only food sources are the dogtrees and the mothermounds. Some foolish enough dig for meat. Though the reward is great, many don't come back, for the dogflesh regrows above them, trapping them inside the moist ground. Primitive tools are forged from bones and leather, such as shovels and knives and clothes. I have lived here for as long as I can remember. There are faint shimmers of the time before the Dogflesh, but what use is there dwelling on the past when it cannot fill our stomachs in the present? I am our tribe's scribe. My name is Dok. I used to have a real name, but it escapes my memory. I record all of our findings and knowledge in my leather pages, using dog blood as ink. There were times when there were more of us. The tribe started with as many as sixty people. Now, our numbers are as few as twenty. Our leader is Keef. He instructs us to find food, build shelter, and bring fire. He abuses his power, taking five wives and eating more than his share of the food, but those who speak against him meet death in the night. It is hellish, but there is no other choice. Without guidance, we will die out here, so we must remain under his leadership.

It has been two days since my last writing. I am lucky that Keef cannot read, for if he had seen my statements about him, I would be dead. Yesterday, one of our tribemembers, Kot, was killed by accidentally stepping into one of the open dogmouths. His screams of pain as it chewed forced me to crush his skull with a shovel, killing him instantly. The bastard Keef claimed Kot's food ration as his own. I can sense the others are beginning to tire of Keef's position of power as well. Nobody spoke a word at that night's feast. I will not sleep well tonight, hearing Kot's screams in my nightmares.
--------------------------
I fear for my life. Fek was killed in front of all of us by Keef today. He refused to continue digging for meat, so the monster beat him to death with his bare hands as a sign that he would not tolerate a refusal to work. I cannot stand for this much longer. Fek was not even an adult, he could not have been more than seventeen human years. This brings our numbers down to eighteen. There is Keef, his five wives, me, and the remaining 11 diggers and gatherers. The others whisper to me in secret that I should be the leader instead. I guess they think I have all the answers because I am the scribe. Only time will tell.

I was awoken at the crack of dawn by one of the diggers, Gar specifically. He told me that tonight would be the night. The others had a plan. They want me to announce that I am the new leader during the feast. When he is distracted with rage, they intend to kill him from behind. I tell Gar that I accept his plan, and will assist them tonight. What have I gotten myself into?
-----------------------
Damn them all. I told Keef I planned to replace him. He arose, filled with rage. I waited for the blow to strike him. It never hit Keef; instead it hit me. Gar was Keef's spy all along. They dragged me far away from the Gardens, and tied me to a barren dogtree. He said that a quick death would not befit me, and I will waste away under the deathly sun. I can just barely reach my journal from here. I suppose this is the end of me.
-----------------------

When the sun was highest in the sky, the heat became unbearable. I saw figures on the horizon. They were not human; they were the hounds that come to eat what the humans leave behind. I thought they were going to eat me. Instead, they went for the blood-soaked meatropes that held me in place. I was free. I kneeled down to the hounds, and looked deep in its eyes. I told them I knew where they could fill their bellies to the brim. It barked once in what I assume was confirmation. I stood up, and we set off to feast.

When we reached the settlement, it was amidst their feast. I approached, death in my gaze. Keef was shocked and angry. The diggers and gatherers were quick to his defense; I guess he bribed them. I whistled, and the hounds slinked through the fur to my side. We struck like a lightning bolt. My fist smashed into Keef's face just as my hounds pounced upon his closest guards. Though I was physically weak, I was quite fast. I stole a shovel and quickly buried it into Keef's bloat while he was disoriented. The smell was sickening, as I expected from a man like him. The hounds made quick work of the rest. I helped, of course. None were spared. I made sure I had my vengeance upon Gar. The hounds were quite full by the end. I took my time and buried each corpse (or what was left of them). I leave this book upon their graves in the hopes that someone who can understand it finds it. If you do, take heed of these words. The Dogscape knows all, and is strict but fair. She provides justice where justice is due.

>pluck the fetal puppyfruits right off the wagging, energetic branches.

What the fuck?

oh come on /tg/ this is right up your fucking ally! Why the cold shoulder?

I don't remember how long it's been like this. I don't remember how it happened. Was I even there? Any thought of the world before just seems like a pleasant delusion at this point. Vague notions of a time before it all went wrong.

It's been so long since I last saw another man. Since I last spoke a word. Some might find this existence to be lonely. But I'm never alone. All around me, no matter where I am - It reaches out to me. The heaving blanket of rank hide that smothered the world long ago. It's greed is incomprehensible. Lashing tongues grope around the surface of a slavering pit-maw, pulling down anything that gets too close. Sad, glazed eyes peer out of the wrinkled folds of fleshy hills. Tumorous masses of meat cling to contorted branches of bone and gristle. All part of some attempt to draw me closer. To drag me down. I've seen shapes moving beneath the flesh-carpet - and I have no desire to join them. For once I'd like to sleep somewhere where I can't feel the ground moving beneath me. Where I can't hear the terrible rumbling of a thousand beating hearts. I don't sleep long - every night I fear the fleshy surface will fold over me, trapping me in its grotesque embrace.

>>11558488
Sometimes I wonder if there are still oceans. It rains occasionally, so the water must come from somewhere. Maybe one of these days I'll find a coast. I'll cut down a few fetus-trees, and I'll lash their rib-like branches into a boat, With a frame of coarse leather and a sail of stretched skin. I'll set out on my corpse-ship, paddling through the water with an outstretched spinal column. I'll leave this ruinous world behind me. Maybe I'll find a place untouched by this terrible blight. A place of trees and green grass, of rocks and rivers. And in this serene, forgotten place I will lay my head down, and I will die. But I am not there yet. I am still trapped in this hellish world of scabs and scars. The blight will never fade from here. And so I walk, braving gnashing teeth and raking claws. Lakes of stomach acid and geysers of pus. Someday I will find my way out. I will not be consumed or assimilated. I will die alone, and I will die a man. But first I must escape. So for now, I walk.

Hi, /co/, how's it hanging?

>>11558516
pretty good man

Goddamn.

This stuff is cool as all hell, but I'm lost with for what to actually do with it. Writefaggotry seems to suggest it's vaguely post-apocalyptic earth, but what the hell would turn the whole planet into the Elemental Plane of Dog?

>>11558533
Marmaduke

God dammit this is fucking stupid.

Its been three years and two weeks now since I met another human being. I know because Ive cut a small notch in my left leg for every day, one in my left arm for every week, and one in my right arm for every year. Admittedly not the most effective way of keeping track of time, but when I started, I figured Id be dead or this would be over before it really mattered.
Like I said I haven't met any other people for a while but I figured I would write this anyways just in case as a warning to others that might be out there.

I ran into something terrible today. Well, the whole dogscape is terrible but I mean MORE terrible. I think even among the dogscape it's some sort of crazy abomination, since the feral dogs and the ground-mouths didn't seem too fond of it either. And that screaming is not something I ever hope to hear again. But that's not the beginning. Im sorry about this, the blood Im using doesn't really come off the paper and I can't waste any by throwing it away and not even thinking about talking to other people for years has made me sort of bad at thinking in a straight line. But Ill try. Let me just start over at the beginning.

The day started normally. It was my weekly gathering day so I left my tent (by the way I left the tent at the foot of the pillar of dogs in the direction of the setting sun if you want it but you probably wont because the skin has probably gone bad by now) to collect the dogfruits I would need for the week and to fill a bag or two with milk. But when I got to the place where there should have been teats there was just a bloody mess where someone had dug deep into the flesh of the dogscape. I didn't really think much of it at first just that I would need ot go looking for a new source of milk.

Then I saw it.

>>11558553
I thought it was another person at first. If I had stopped to really look first I wouldn't have had any problems and I wouldn't be writing this right now I guess. I started shouting to get its attention and I did get its attention because it turned to me and then I realized that I had made a huge mistake.
Thinking back the really long arms and the twisty body probably should have been my first clue. But I didnt really see that anything was wrong until it turned towards me and I saw what I thought was a head was just a featureless lump of flesh. Its arms unfolded outwards each arm ending in two canine legs and the human face on its chest opened its mouth and started screaming. I figured it was bad news then and made a mad dash for the nearest pillar of dogs but it kept running after me and it was much faster. Somehow I managed to make it and I started scrambling to climb out of its reach. I didnt get very far before there was a sharp pain in my leg and I looked down and saw that it had bitten me with one of the many canine mouths along the arm things. I screamed as it pulled me down but that didn't do much and I probably would have died right then if it werent for what happened next.
Out of nowhere a mouth I didnt even seen when I started climbing the dog pillar bit down on it and then one in the ground and they started chewing at it but that didnt really seem to hurt it but it let go all the same. I ran away as fast as I could but I could hear that screaming long after I was out of sight. I didnt sleep that night.

>>11558565

Just before nightfall tonight I felt like I had to make sure the dogscape had killed it and went to the pillar, but I saw no trace of it. But the notebook I tore this paper from was there and I took that.

So now here I am. I am not going to stay around here any lonnger after I finish this but finding this notebook made me think maybe there are other people and if so maybe I should warn them about things like this.

So if you are reading this good luck.

Oh also I am moving in the direction of the rising sun so if you can read this you are probably another person so if you go that direction maybe we can meet up and be a little better off than we were?

~C
~C

>>11558533
... Dogpunk.
Tools made of dogs.
Food made of dogs.
Machines made of dogs.
Dogs made of dogs.

>>11558574
Actually, most of the dogs have been absorbed into the Dogmother

>>11558581
They can be reclaimed, and USED against the dogmother.

>>11558581
In which case, it would just be food, tools, etc, made out of 'dog' - the word being used much in the same way as 'wood' or 'metal' might, used to describe a resource rather than an actual animal.

>>11558600
...and I have my campaign, thanks Anon

>>11558607
Not joking, fucking Marmaduke!

While archaic, tribal worship of the Dogmother, in all its visible and fleshy glory, is the most common form of "religion" in the barbaric Dogscape, there does exist another mythology. One practiced only in distant, isolated pockets, and by a few of the older survivors. The exact details change from tribe to tribe, year to year. But the basics never change. It is the legend of the Beginning of the Dogscape, the genesis of the world we know. It tells of a time when humans were plentiful, and walked upon ground that wasn't alive.

There is a god, or a demon perhaps. A dog who lived amongst the humans, was even accepted and provided for by a human family. But it was no ordinary dog. This beast lived for over 50 years, while canines of the time rarely lasted more than a decade. It was greatly powerful, more in control of its owner family than they were of it. They say, it went out at night and hunted human prey, bringing back large collections of bones as trophies to its home. But the humans tried to ignore it, convince themselves that it wasn't a problem.

Soon though, as the Origin Dog reached a century of age, it became increasingly powerful and unlike others. More strange disappearances, and even attacks during the day. Vehicles were found with deep bite marks through metal, and homes were burrowed into from below.

'Infinite Dogworld', 2010

dogs as far as the eye can see. a delicately intertwined network of dogs stretches out to the horizon, bathed in spring light... sunrise on Infinite Dogworld

the planet's surface is clothed in a flowing sheet of spaniels. dog-shadows blot out the land. maybe the dogs are the land. it's been millenia since any human has set foot on Infinite Dogworld.

it's a calm, clear day. the sun lends a honeyed hue to the coats of golden retrievers. a few clouds drift aimlessly through the sky's blue expanse - but wait! those are no clouds! bubbly puffs of fuzz and fur, canine cumulonimbus; levitating dogs waft through the heavens like hairy helicopters, wagging their tails to propel themselves. anything is possible on Infinite Dogworld.

how many dogs are there? no one knows. the dogs move as a single entity, the world's cutest bacterial colony. at some points they seem to blend into each other and blur together to create a semi-corporeal dogblob with legs and tails jutting out haphazardly. amorphous splotches of fur and flesh, they are almost unidentifiable but still retain some characteristics of doggishness. this furry ameoba trudges on, tongues whipped by the breeze, across the sweeping plains of Infinite Dogworld.

there are no gaps in the dog chain. what happens when a dog dies? is a puppy born to take its place? perhaps there is no death on Infinite Dogworld. all dogs live forever. all dogs go to heaven.

>>11558684
The government of the time, many times more powerful than any chieftain of today, captured the hellhound. They performed experiments, tried to understand where it channeled its energy from. Progress was good, it looked as though even the secret to immortality could be gained from this dog! But accidents occur. The Betrayer, as they call her, who worked at the government facility, felt sympathy for the GodDog. She released him, and concurrently, the all-consuming hell that is Dogscape.

The enraged beast no longer held any sympathy for humanity. As it thrashed recklessly through the lab, mutated samples adhered to its flesh, growing like a cancer. Soon, what would become Dogscape was spreading like wildfire, its maw gnashing at everything that moved, its hide spreading over soil, stone, and sea.

What is the name of this horrible demon? It varies, but they all come from a similar etymoologcial origin, I believe. I've taken down names from all over the world, Armad, Me'arm, Aduke.

And yet, the DogMother is most certainly feminine. Well, it is said that The Betrayer was in fact, the first human assimilated into the Dogscape.

>>11558600
>>11558608
How on earth would one actually fight against such a world-wide infection? Fire, maybe, to try and halt the regeneration? But how do you create fire on such a large magnitude? And the stories written seem to suggest - to me at least - the planet isn't so much covered in dog, but turned into dog, all the way down.

A near-future setting where you've got to try and hold off the slowly encroaching tide of dog before it overwhelms the whole planet could be workable, though.

>>11558698
You must dig deep, reach the core of the dogscape. Bring lights, food, water and oxygen, as the wriggling masses will soon become your prison, when it heals over you. The only way you can go is down.

>>11558730
STRIKE THE FUR!

What in the 5 blazing hell mouths is this?

>>11558765
It is dogscape, an unending tide of fur and muzzles. Where the remnants of humanity must etch out a living among the spinal trees and teat fields, where they have to survive against ravenous maws, fleshy pit traps, and the most heinous death, becoming one with the dogscape itself, absorbed into its very lining

>>11558745
What happens when you hit the Dogworld equivalent of Adamantite? Horrendous, acid-squirting Dogspawn conjured forth from the empty spaces between the great Dog's organs? Masses of Dog-demons formed from masses of twisting, tentacle-like tails? Maybe even the withered body of the GodDog itself? Perhaps the only one who can kill it is the Betrayer, trapped and alive at the very core of the world?

>>11558730
Even in the post-apocalyptic future of the dogscape hardy survivors get by, keeping the remnants of civilization in their heart. In their castles they hold out, keeping the hairy growth at bay, each an isolated oasis in the ocean of fur. The most daring of them all dig down into the dogscape itself until they find a vein, and ride the sanguine floods across the continent, swimming through the terrestrial beast itself! Those true heroes, the last hope of an organized resistance, are called THE DOGRIDERS.

ALRIGHT /TG/ HERE'S YOUR FUCKING CHALLENGE.

Can you stat the almighty Dogscape?

Make an item so horrendous as to summon this apocalypse into reality, create a creature so monstrous it aborbs worlds into its very fur?

>>11558831
Dig that deep down and you'll become one with the very thing you seek to conquer

blame Tzeentch?

i imagine the betrayer as a cross between kerrigan, marmaduke, and a greater demon of nurgle.
i have an erection.

>>11558894
I lost my erection, thanks

>>11558745
Dog Fortress

>>11558907
Maybe I can help you find it.

>>11558889
Even Tzeentch wouldn't want anything to do with this shit. This is too fucked up even for him.

>>11558920
go on...

>>11558305
>>11558448
>>11558434
>>11558417
>>11558402
this story sucked balls

lololol spy all along lololol fightan lolol plotholes

>>11558931
So you want to fap eh?


I looked down at what appered to be a patch of both male and female reporductive dog organs. I stared fasinated as they endlessly paired with each other. I knew I should have looked away but I just couldn't. After a while of watching them breed endlessly they seemed to stop. It appered that they finally senced me. I almost felt bad for bad for interupting so i started to walk away but i felt something grab ahold of my leg. I looked down to see a mutated dog paw holding tighly to my pant leg. I tried to pull my leg from it's grasp but it held on. Then to my horror it started pulling me to the middle of the organ patch. I franticly began to fight to get loose, for I knew what it wanted. More dog paws sprouted up and began pulling me. I knew I didn't stand a chance. I knew that I would be joined with Dog Mother in the end, so i silently accepted my fate. At least I would die happy

>>11558934
Your country sucks. A tumor on germany's mighty behind.

>>11558959
I don't know what I hate more right now. You for planting that grotesque image in my mind, or my overactive imagination for conjuring it into being.

That said, maybe such breeding pits are how the Dogworld grows. Maybe by destroying them, one could halt the growth and regeneration?

I don't know what the fuck is going on here, but CAPTCHA seems to want in on it.

>>11559054
It's possible, but the Dogmother is encompassing, and attacking too much of her results in attack

>>11559134
this.
i dont think we should anger it.
just eat your fetus and shut up.
captcha: agitator REALLY

>>11559164
There is only one thing to do.

travel, always north, maybe somewhere, on the mountain tops, or on the top of the planet, the ground is clear.

>>11559134
>>11559164
You know, I'm not sure what's worse. Being killed by it as you attack the world around you in a futile display of hatred and disgust, or having to live in such an enviroment. Day after day, nothing but twisted, ghoulish dogscape as far as the eye can see, trying to eke out a living sucking on nipples that burst like fungi from the ground and consuming the horrid, organic foetus-fruit dangling from reproductive growths.

Thanks to this thread I keep glancing over my shoulder at my dog. God damn it.

This... It's so utterly WUT, but I am nonetheless intrigued.

I would definitely watch a movie set in the dogscape.

JOURNEY TO THE CENTER OF THE DOG

>>11559570
inb4 bestiality

GOOD DOG,
BEST FRIEND

>>11558959
>>11559687
Too late.

I'm sort of glad I'm a cat person
from the other thread:

truly there is no hell worse than this... this place! This perversion of reality! Surely death will look upon me with remorse and mercy, for a fate worse than death would be in store should I try to survive.

I'm rarely actually horrified, but this... My door blew shut in a gust of wind while reading this, and I literally jumped out of my chair. Bravo.

I'm so disturbed by this. If one were to try running a game in the Dogscape, it would have to end in a murder-suicide as either you or your players snapped.

Oh yeah, I think this is copypasta from FYAD. Not postive though.

>>11560059

What system would you even USE to play Dogscape, though?

(inb4 FATAL)

>>11560427

Dark Heresy?

>>11560427
Dogscape, of course.

>>11564722

But... that isn't a system!

Wait.

GURPS! We'll stat in GURPS!