Sep 20, 2022 3:30 am
Celebrity/online persons name is Max Danger. Real name Maxwell Frederick Wilson.
Rough outline: rich kid grew up lazy and entitled. Flunked out of college and took up vlogging and social influencing. Started out doing travel influencer stuff, and that switched to adventure travel, which got more and more extreme as he got bored. He chased the social engagement - loving for likes, followers, and views. Eventually he stumbled onto the occult and conspiracy nuts, and figured out a strong hold on this niche. Combining this with his adventure travel turned him into a social media Indiana Jones of sorts, and he built up a persona, becoming internet famous.
Until he heard the stories about the cult of Tharizdun - the chained god. This entity was rumored to be a mad god, imprisoned by the others In his pantheon. He was fascinated, but more importantly his followers ate it up. Every time he did a story about Tharizdun - revealing some tidbit of research or another - his engagement numbers shot through the roof.
One research excursion, which had been a content heavy trek through a jungle and a dangerous dungeon crawl through an ancient temple, he found what he was looking for.
He was about to go live to broadcast the cult performing their ritual - practically seeing the follower count and likes roll in - when he was taken from behind by a group of green-robed individuals.
At least that’s the last the he remembered before the screaming. He didn’t know how long the assault on his mind lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? All he knew was that it invaded all of his senses. He could feel the screams on his skin. Taste them in his mouth. It flooded his vision. Filled his nostrils.
He woke up in a ditch outside of a rickety bar in Costa Rica. He was covered in his own piss and shit. And when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the screaming.
As far as he could tell, some kind of pact had been made. He felt that to his marrow. But those green-clad cultists were still following him, and he had no idea what they wanted.
Something like that.
Rough outline: rich kid grew up lazy and entitled. Flunked out of college and took up vlogging and social influencing. Started out doing travel influencer stuff, and that switched to adventure travel, which got more and more extreme as he got bored. He chased the social engagement - loving for likes, followers, and views. Eventually he stumbled onto the occult and conspiracy nuts, and figured out a strong hold on this niche. Combining this with his adventure travel turned him into a social media Indiana Jones of sorts, and he built up a persona, becoming internet famous.
Until he heard the stories about the cult of Tharizdun - the chained god. This entity was rumored to be a mad god, imprisoned by the others In his pantheon. He was fascinated, but more importantly his followers ate it up. Every time he did a story about Tharizdun - revealing some tidbit of research or another - his engagement numbers shot through the roof.
One research excursion, which had been a content heavy trek through a jungle and a dangerous dungeon crawl through an ancient temple, he found what he was looking for.
He was about to go live to broadcast the cult performing their ritual - practically seeing the follower count and likes roll in - when he was taken from behind by a group of green-robed individuals.
At least that’s the last the he remembered before the screaming. He didn’t know how long the assault on his mind lasted. Minutes? Hours? Days? Weeks? All he knew was that it invaded all of his senses. He could feel the screams on his skin. Taste them in his mouth. It flooded his vision. Filled his nostrils.
He woke up in a ditch outside of a rickety bar in Costa Rica. He was covered in his own piss and shit. And when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the screaming.
As far as he could tell, some kind of pact had been made. He felt that to his marrow. But those green-clad cultists were still following him, and he had no idea what they wanted.
Something like that.