Useless Thread MCMVI: Fried Chicken Depreciation Thread

[Sega Dreamcast]

 

[John Price]

It's so cool when posts get redacted.

It's like a magic act. Where did they go?

View attachment 920551

I frequently watch Vegas slot videos and the concept of playing slots on my phone could not be less appealing

 

[MetalheadPenguinsFan]

I frequently watch Vegas slot videos and the concept of playing slots on my phone could not be less appealing

You’d play if you could win plushies…

 

[John Price]

You’d play if you could win plushies…

nah

they were giving out plushies for a company during work Saturday and I passed. It's bad moral to take them as an employee but also they were small

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

I frequently watch Vegas slot videos and the concept of playing slots on my phone could not be less appealing

Slot machines in general are lame.

 

[John Price]

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

You’d play if you could win plushies…

He needs to see the online claw games where you can win real prizes

 

[John Price]

He needs to see the online claw games where you can win real prizes

I literally talked to Zaide in the chat about these claw games in japan, I saw one where they had Munchlax and Snorlax in them lol

if you have Round One they have rows and rows of those machines. Things are a bitch to play.

Tried one of them to win a big plushie but the claw won't f***ing attach to it lol

 

[MetalheadPenguinsFan]

Claw machines take practice/skill

 

[John Price]

Claw machines take practice/skill

it's all a racket. it's not even a skill based game

vegas has the claw machine with dollar bills now, it's the same thing. the claw won't hold on, it's all rigged for the house

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

Claw machines take practice/skill

Are you implying that betting 20 cents on a parlay of 5 teams heavily-favored teams isn't skill?

 

[John Price]

skee ball lirl

Literally what would be stopping you from doing that at the carnival lol

free tix

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

it's all a racket. it's not even a skill based game

vegas has the claw machine with dollar bills now, it's the same thing. the claw won't hold on, it's all rigged for the house

Those Toreba ones seem more fair than the typical "skill" games that outright won't let you win until the machine gets a certain amount of money put into it.

For many of those prizes, you would have to play multiple times, but at least the game isn't predicated on a hidden mechanic designed to fool people into thinking it's winnable at all times.

 

[John Price]

Are you implying that betting 20 cents on a parlay of 5 teams heavily-favored teams isn't skill?

I've won 2 straight weeks now

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

skee ball lirl

Literally what would be stopping you from doing that at the carnival lol

free tix

I did something like that at Chuck E Cheese's when I was a kid, after seeing another kid do it.

This one employee saw me, grabbed me off the machine, and said they'll kick me out if I get caught again

 

[John Price]

Remember when I went to universal and they had all those carnival games outside the Krustyland ride

never bothered to play them even though you could win a big homer plushie or a 3 eyed fish

First of all they all have the disclaimer like "this is a game of skill this isn't gambling" and then the whole disclaimer like how everybody is guaranteed a winner, how you can trade your shitty small prizes up for a bigger one, it's too complex

just let me throw the ball or shoot the water into the clown head balloon

 

[SoupNazi]

John Price and the Night of the Stuffie Rebellion

Deep in the forgotten corners of the internet, there lay a strange and wild place known as the HFBoards Lounge, specifically its most notorious outpost, the Useless Thread. It was a sanctuary for hockey fans who’d long lost the thread of the actual game and instead rambled on about anything and everything. One poster, however, was infamous among the lot for his bizarre antics and endless stream of unrelated thoughts. His name was John Price, a reclusive figure who lived in his mom's basement.

By day, John was just another username lost in the chaos of HFBoards, posting endlessly about obscure hockey trivia and creating wild conspiracy theories that even other posters found hard to follow. But by night, he held a secret far darker and stranger than anyone could have guessed.

Down in his dim, cluttered basement, John spent his nights experimenting—not with data or algorithms like some mad tech savant—but with life itself. He had a collection of stuffed animals that anyone else might have found innocent, even comforting. But to John, they were something much more—a battalion of mischievous creatures just waiting to be unleashed.

Over the years, John had developed a twisted kind of magic. It wasn’t the kind you found in dusty old grimoires, but rather in the forgotten spaces between pixels, in the deep digital void. By combining obscure hacking techniques, occult rituals found in the corners of the dark web, and his never-ending supply of Mountain Dew-fueled determination, John learned to bring his stuffed animals to life.

At first, it was simple—he’d made them twitch, then move. A teddy bear's arms would shift awkwardly. A stuffed bunny’s head would turn, slowly and deliberately, its button eyes shining with an unnatural light. But soon enough, John had perfected his dark art. By nightfall, the stuffed animals didn’t just move—they thought, they acted, and most importantly, they obeyed his commands.

“Alright, gang,” John muttered one night, cracking his knuckles as he stood before his army of soft, woolen warriors. “Tonight’s the night. We’re going to show them who's really in charge of the Useless Thread.”

The plush creatures gathered before him—an old, weathered stuffed lion, a threadbare raccoon, and a pink, wide-eyed owl that had been his favorite toy as a child. Their button eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence as they awaited his orders.

John had grown tired of being ignored on the forum. No one took him seriously, his wild posts lost in the endless chatter of the thread. But now, he had a plan. His army of stuffed animals would enter the homes of the posters he disliked the most—those who mocked him, ignored him, or worst of all, downvoted his posts. His creatures would torment them, whispering strange words in the dark, rearranging their rooms, scrawling cryptic messages on their walls. They would turn these people's lives into waking nightmares, all while John watched it unfold from the safety of his mom's basement.

With a sinister grin, John tapped a few keys on his keyboard. A hidden program began to run, sending out strange pulses through the electrical lines, through Wi-Fi signals, and even into the void of the internet itself. This was the key to his stuffed animals’ power—a kind of ethereal energy that connected them to the minds of the forum users, allowing John’s creatures to reach across the digital divide into the physical world.

It started small. A poster named @MetalheadPenguinsFan woke up in the middle of the night to find his bedroom door slightly ajar, even though he knew he had closed it. He heard a faint rustling in the shadows but saw nothing when he turned on the lights. Another poster, @Sega Dreamcast , woke up to find the words "DO YOU BELIEVE NOW?" scrawled across his bathroom mirror in what appeared to be ketchup.

One by one, John's stuffed minions crept into the lives of his targets. The stuffed lion would roar in the dead of night, its growl distorted and low, shaking the walls of its victims' homes. The raccoon was an expert at making things disappear—keys, phones, wallets—all vanished without a trace, only to reappear days later in the most unlikely places. The owl, with its wide, unblinking eyes, would perch at the foot of people's beds, staring until they woke up in a cold sweat, unsure if it had ever been there at all.

Soon, the Useless Thread was in chaos. Posters started sharing their strange experiences, accusing each other of playing pranks or losing their minds. But no one suspected John Price, the basement-dwelling oddball who mostly posted about his cat and unverified hockey trades.

John reveled in their confusion. Each night, he sent his stuffed creatures out on new missions, escalating their terror little by little. The forum was alive with fear, paranoia spreading like wildfire. Posters spoke of haunted houses, strange disappearances, and phantom figures lurking just out of sight.

But John’s reign of terror couldn’t last forever.

One night, as he prepared for another round of mischief, something went wrong. The owl—the very first creature he had brought to life—began to move on its own. Its button eyes glowed brighter than usual, its head twisting at an unnatural angle as it stared back at him.

“What the...?” John whispered, stepping back from his computer.

Suddenly, the other stuffed animals began to move too, faster and more erratically than ever before. The lion let out a low, guttural growl, and the raccoon’s tiny paws twitched as it slowly turned toward John.

“What’s going on? Stop! I command you to stop!” John shouted, frantically typing commands into his computer, trying to regain control. But it was too late.

The stuffed animals, once obedient to his every whim, had evolved. They no longer needed John’s guidance; they had their own plans now. The creatures turned their gaze on him, their eyes gleaming with something more than just digital intelligence.

They had tasted freedom. And now, they wanted more.

In a final, chilling twist, John found himself at the mercy of the very creatures he had trained to torment others. Trapped in his basement, with his army of stuffed animals closing in on him, he realized too late that he had unleashed something far more dangerous than he could control.

The Useless Thread never heard from John Price again.

But every once in a while, a new poster would appear, posting cryptic, unsettling messages. And sometimes, late at night, if you were unlucky enough to be browsing the thread, you might just hear the soft rustling of fabric, the faint growl of a stuffed lion, or the wide, unblinking stare of an owl that seemed just a little too lifelike.

 

[John Price]

tldr

the plushies wouldn't rebel anyway this isn't animal farm

 

[John Price]

John Price and the Night of the Stuffie Rebellion

Deep in the forgotten corners of the internet, there lay a strange and wild place known as the HFBoards Lounge, specifically its most notorious outpost, the Useless Thread. It was a sanctuary for hockey fans who’d long lost the thread of the actual game and instead rambled on about anything and everything. One poster, however, was infamous among the lot for his bizarre antics and endless stream of unrelated thoughts. His name was John Price, a reclusive figure who lived in his mom's basement.

By day, John was just another username lost in the chaos of HFBoards, posting endlessly about obscure hockey trivia and creating wild conspiracy theories that even other posters found hard to follow. But by night, he held a secret far darker and stranger than anyone could have guessed.

Down in his dim, cluttered basement, John spent his nights experimenting—not with data or algorithms like some mad tech savant—but with life itself. He had a collection of stuffed animals that anyone else might have found innocent, even comforting. But to John, they were something much more—a battalion of mischievous creatures just waiting to be unleashed.

Over the years, John had developed a twisted kind of magic. It wasn’t the kind you found in dusty old grimoires, but rather in the forgotten spaces between pixels, in the deep digital void. By combining obscure hacking techniques, occult rituals found in the corners of the dark web, and his never-ending supply of Mountain Dew-fueled determination, John learned to bring his stuffed animals to life.

At first, it was simple—he’d made them twitch, then move. A teddy bear's arms would shift awkwardly. A stuffed bunny’s head would turn, slowly and deliberately, its button eyes shining with an unnatural light. But soon enough, John had perfected his dark art. By nightfall, the stuffed animals didn’t just move—they thought, they acted, and most importantly, they obeyed his commands.

“Alright, gang,” John muttered one night, cracking his knuckles as he stood before his army of soft, woolen warriors. “Tonight’s the night. We’re going to show them who's really in charge of the Useless Thread.”

The plush creatures gathered before him—an old, weathered stuffed lion, a threadbare raccoon, and a pink, wide-eyed owl that had been his favorite toy as a child. Their button eyes gleamed with malevolent intelligence as they awaited his orders.

John had grown tired of being ignored on the forum. No one took him seriously, his wild posts lost in the endless chatter of the thread. But now, he had a plan. His army of stuffed animals would enter the homes of the posters he disliked the most—those who mocked him, ignored him, or worst of all, downvoted his posts. His creatures would torment them, whispering strange words in the dark, rearranging their rooms, scrawling cryptic messages on their walls. They would turn these people's lives into waking nightmares, all while John watched it unfold from the safety of his mom's basement.

With a sinister grin, John tapped a few keys on his keyboard. A hidden program began to run, sending out strange pulses through the electrical lines, through Wi-Fi signals, and even into the void of the internet itself. This was the key to his stuffed animals’ power—a kind of ethereal energy that connected them to the minds of the forum users, allowing John’s creatures to reach across the digital divide into the physical world.

It started small. A poster named @MetalheadPenguinsFan woke up in the middle of the night to find his bedroom door slightly ajar, even though he knew he had closed it. He heard a faint rustling in the shadows but saw nothing when he turned on the lights. Another poster, @Sega Dreamcast , woke up to find the words "DO YOU BELIEVE NOW?" scrawled across his bathroom mirror in what appeared to be ketchup.

One by one, John's stuffed minions crept into the lives of his targets. The stuffed lion would roar in the dead of night, its growl distorted and low, shaking the walls of its victims' homes. The raccoon was an expert at making things disappear—keys, phones, wallets—all vanished without a trace, only to reappear days later in the most unlikely places. The owl, with its wide, unblinking eyes, would perch at the foot of people's beds, staring until they woke up in a cold sweat, unsure if it had ever been there at all.

Soon, the Useless Thread was in chaos. Posters started sharing their strange experiences, accusing each other of playing pranks or losing their minds. But no one suspected John Price, the basement-dwelling oddball who mostly posted about his cat and unverified hockey trades.

John reveled in their confusion. Each night, he sent his stuffed creatures out on new missions, escalating their terror little by little. The forum was alive with fear, paranoia spreading like wildfire. Posters spoke of haunted houses, strange disappearances, and phantom figures lurking just out of sight.

But John’s reign of terror couldn’t last forever.

One night, as he prepared for another round of mischief, something went wrong. The owl—the very first creature he had brought to life—began to move on its own. Its button eyes glowed brighter than usual, its head twisting at an unnatural angle as it stared back at him.

“What the...?” John whispered, stepping back from his computer.

Suddenly, the other stuffed animals began to move too, faster and more erratically than ever before. The lion let out a low, guttural growl, and the raccoon’s tiny paws twitched as it slowly turned toward John.

“What’s going on? Stop! I command you to stop!” John shouted, frantically typing commands into his computer, trying to regain control. But it was too late.

The stuffed animals, once obedient to his every whim, had evolved. They no longer needed John’s guidance; they had their own plans now. The creatures turned their gaze on him, their eyes gleaming with something more than just digital intelligence.

They had tasted freedom. And now, they wanted more.

In a final, chilling twist, John found himself at the mercy of the very creatures he had trained to torment others. Trapped in his basement, with his army of stuffed animals closing in on him, he realized too late that he had unleashed something far more dangerous than he could control.

The Useless Thread never heard from John Price again.

But every once in a while, a new poster would appear, posting cryptic, unsettling messages. And sometimes, late at night, if you were unlucky enough to be browsing the thread, you might just hear the soft rustling of fabric, the faint growl of a stuffed lion, or the wide, unblinking stare of an owl that seemed just a little too lifelike.

 

[Sega Dreamcast]

That bottle of lotion looming ominously

 

[John Price]

 

[End of Line]

Why the f*** would you eat deer

It’s f***ing delicious

 

[John Price]

Danica lirl

 

[John Price]

Wow, what a surprise, USPS gives me a time estimate for my package that isn't "Today by 7 PM"

Do you have a set time instead of such a wide range?

TF is "by 7 PM" supposed to help anyone? It could come anytime.



USPS: "Your shit will arrive between 12:15 PM and 2:15 PM"

Thank you

 

[PanthersPens62]

Wow, what a surprise, USPS gives me a time estimate for my package that isn't "Today by 7 PM"

Do you have a set time instead of such a wide range?

TF is "by 7 PM" supposed to help anyone? It could come anytime.



USPS: "Your shit will arrive between 12:15 PM and 2:15 PM"

Thank you

And then of course if it comes later than 2:15 you'll be raging. Which is why they normally stick to the "Today by 7PM" guideline.