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8-Bit Theater
Episode 522
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The descent into sanity
Date Published Thursday, March 3rd, 2005
Previous Comic Episode 521: Use the targetting computer. That's what it's there for.
Next Comic Episode 523: The Doom That Came to Ice Cave
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Black Mage believes that his teammates have gone insane...have they?

Cast AppearingEdit

SettingEdit

ScriptEdit

Black Mage scribbles a journal on note paper
Day 3
The mysteriously slain yeti that has sustained us since waking up in this arctic prison has nearly been exhausted.
FighterAww, man. I was really starting to dig the gamey taste of yak meat.
Red MageIt's not yak, it's yeti.
If we're lucky that'll be close to human that one of us will turn into the Wendigo.
Then he'll punch a hole in the wall and the survivors, if any, can get out.
If my comrades survive the night it will only be because I've passed out from exhaustion.
Day 4
Curse my well-rested state! These fools continue to live and they are clearly showing signs of cave madness.
FighterWell, we did what we could.
Red MageYup, no sense in flipping out at this point.
ThiefWe had a good run.
In their fevered mania, they plot my demise. I am alone now for the first time, but not the last time. And definitely not the first time.
Day 5
They have found a pit into the earth. Knowing they yearn for nothing less than my death, I stayed behind to fortify my defenses.
It was a decision that would save my life.
Nestled within my stoney womb, I could hear the wails of the damned echo from the cave's depths.
Cut to Black Mage standing on a snow fort, scribbling on his journal
Fighter(offscreen) Hey, Black Mage, C'mere!
My "friends" were already lost to me. Their sanity had been eroded by time.
But now their husks would be infested by horrors from beneath the earth and beyond the ages.
FighterHey, Black Mage. Didn't you hear us calling you?
ThiefThere's a whole network of caves down there. Red Mage thinks we can find a way out.
Switch back to Black Mage sitting in a pile of ice, scribbling on his journal
Fighter(offscreen) Why is he sitting in a pile of ice?
They spoke in a tongue of wet gurgles; the babble of a language without reason.
If you are reading this, then it is too late for me. I beseech you, reader tell my story. Let not my death be in vain.

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