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JH Sounds

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  1. Hey did you save the log from last night JH? I went to bed later than usual just to stay up long enough to compo, sorry I couldn't stay for the listening party. I ended up waking up an hour later in the morning too, bad stuff. :-(

    I'll be sure to send that log along. 8)

  2. Here is the aforementioned chapter. I may revise this slightly before the deadline hits.

    “Happy birthday, Banjo!”

    The group threw confetti in the air just before the honey bear blew out his candles. Banjo was filled with mirth at the sight of all the people attending the party. The friends he made on his various adventures were there, and this delighted him greatly. Although Banjo’s house was only partially rebuilt after it had been destroyed years ago, to him it felt like the perfect place to hold a social gathering. He could see dozens of faces, all familiar, all smiling, and all acknowledging in one way or another the impact the bear and bird had on them.

    His longtime pal, the red-crested breegull Kazooie, naturally hummed the appropriate tune on her kazoo for the occasion. Banjo thought back to the many perilous quests they had been through together, how they had managed to succeed despite the seemingly insurmountable circumstances. The duo had run into the most fur and feather-raising adversaries, and yet lived to tell the tale. The bear glanced at Kazooie, and for a brief moment he could sense an intangible bond that could never be undone. He was a land-goer. She was an air-goer. They would become so much more as a duo, and as friends.

    “If I may say a few words,” Kazooie began, stuffing her musical instrument under one of her wings. “Of course we’re here to congratulate Banjo on becoming an old sack of fur.” A quick laugh came from the back of the crowd. Kazooie’s beak formed a smarmy curl, and she resumed. “Every year he becomes slower, duller and just a bit greyer.” Banjo received a hearty pat on the back from someone nearby, and the bear chuckled lightly at the bird’s less-than-gentle roast. “I don’t know where Banjo would be without me, especially considering that he actually lost some of his moves at the start of Banjo-Tooie. Seriously though, how does someone forget how to punch?” Kazooie jabbed her wings forward mockingly as brief laughter and scattered applause ensued.

    Bottles the mole waved an arm, turning the attention to him. “Y’know, none of your missions would have worked out without my moves.” He adjusted his thick glasses before continuing. “Everything from the punching you just mentioned, to flying, and more.” Before Kazooie could interject, Bottles added, “…and whatever abilities I didn’t teach you were taught by my brother Jamjars. We are a proud family of skilled moles.”

    The bird let out a “Hah!” at Bottles’ boastful statement. “All those moves, and you’re not nearly in the shape needed to perform them yourself.” She looked over to a slightly disconcerted Banjo and grinned. “Could you image this nearsighted mole doing a roll attack? Or a simple back flip?” She giggled at the mere thought of it.

    “Well excuse me,” Bottles asserted. “I actually helped out in defeating Grunty last time, remember? It was me disguising myself as a contestant for that racing challenge, and going on the offensive in the final battle. It’s not like I was burrowed in the ground the whole time.”

    “Whoa, hang on a sec,” said the breegull. “The disguise was totally Mumbo’s idea. That mangy witch doctor transformed you into a Bumper lookalike so you could take Bumper’s place. Mumbo would totally call you out on that if he was here, instead of on some silly quest to find a new zapping stick.” Kazooie suddenly felt as if she had to stress the point. “Oh, and by the way, it wasn’t you on the offensive in that fight above the fortress; it was Canary Mary carrying you. All you did was provide ammo and complain, like you always do.”

    Though it was difficult to discern, Bottles’ eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Without my ammunition, you would have failed in every battle you and Banjo ever faced together. There were even obstacles and puzzles that needed certain types of ammo to complete, so you wouldn’t have gotten very far to begin with.” The breegull barely opened her beak before Bottles spoke again. “Normally I’m not one to brag, but I’d say I pull my weight around here. I’m not the useless mole you make me out to be in these adventures.” At that point the exasperated Kazooie turned away to mingle with the others. Taking the moment to divert the party away from the roast, Bottles gestured toward the large pile of presents beside him. “Banjo, shouldn’t you be opening these things now?”

    “Oh boy!” the bear squealed with delight. He grabbed the gift box closest to him, adorned with tiny honeycomb patterns. It was apparently wrapped in somewhat of a rush, but the sheer weight of the present told Banjo that it was going to be something special. With a smile, he unfolded the letter taped to the top of the box and read it.

    Dear brother:

    I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate your birthday. With my new business starting up and all, I can hardly keep up with the responsibilities here. This present wasn’t cheap, and I hope you like it!

    Love,

    Tooty.

    Banjo ran a claw along the sides of the packaging to open it, careful not to damage whatever expensive item was inside. His slight trepidation gave way to glee once he saw what the gift was. “Ooh, it’s a K-Box 380! Tooty knows I love video games!” It included a headset, which he put on whilst fumbling a bit with a controller. “If this is half as good as my GameLad handheld, I’ll be happy.”

    Kazooie chagrined. “I’ve never seen anyone so happy to switch over to another game company.” The bird gazed at the box absentmindedly. “GameLad Inc. has been around for over a century; you’d think their fan base would stick with them for at least half that time. Nope, it’s off to the company with the most dough to throw around.”

    Banjo reached into the package and pulled out a second controller. “We could play co-op, Kazooie. How about it?”

    The bird was instantly and genuinely intrigued. “Oh, cool. Let’s do that.”

    That short moment of contentment between the two of them ended when Banjo attempted to set up the game console. “Whuh-oh. Did I forget to pay the electric bill?” The bear toggled the power button and adjusted the cords, to no effect. As a last ditch effort, he unplugged the toaster at the other end of the room and tried to connect the system into that slot. No such luck. “Gosh darn, I really wanted to play this.”

    Kazooie looked at the increasingly befuddled Banjo, and shook her head slightly in contempt. “It’s probably a short circuit somewhere, or maybe something wrong with the wiring. This house is still under construction, if you remember.” With a chortle, she added, “You definitely chose the right place to hold a get-together.”

    Banjo placed the console on the floor. “I’m gonna check the fuse box outside.” The bear made his way through the throng and toward the exit.

    Spiral Mountain looked as beautiful as ever. There was no sign of the damage it took when Gruntilda and her goons had ravaged the place all those years ago. The bear marveled at the crisp, clear waterfall that flowed into a river cutting across the land. The serene fields stretched out far into the horizon, and the central spiral hill was intact. A bridge at its peak led to what was once Grunty’s lair; in place of the witch’s unappealing stone figure was a monument honoring the Stop ‘N’ Swop items. The six eggs and key were marvelous to behold from Banjo’s viewpoint. A warm breeze met his face, and he could not help but sigh at the peaceful surroundings.

    “Why do I get the feeling someone’s having too much fun?” Kazooie stepped out of the house and onto the fresh grass. “Yep, I’m the one who has to get things going, per usual.” The two walked over to the fuse box at the side of the house and proceeded to poke and prod at it. After working at the tin case for a few minutes, Banjo felt the urge to express his feelings. “Kazooie, I know I’ve said this before, but thanks.”

    The breegull held an incredulous expression. “Thanks… for what?”

    The bear grinned. “Thanks for bringing me back to life. Thank you for risking your neck to rescue me, and for being a friend.” He looked up at the perfect blue sky. “Do you remember when we all met up at the end last time, on top of the fortress? We shared a group hug; I liked that.”

    “Well…” Kazooie characteristically looked for way to escape a cheesy moment. “There wouldn’t be any Banjo-Kazooie games without you in them, and I’d be out of a job.” That was the best excuse she could come up with. “It’s all a contractual deal. Yeah.” Quickly changing the subject, she commented, “I don’t think the lack of electricity has anything to do with the fuse box. There must be some sort of widespread outage.”

    A low rumble could be heard in the distance. Banjo scratched his head in confusion at the sound. “Thunder? On such a wonderful morning? What’s going on here?” That observation proved to be the turning point in their day. A sharp crack sounded out overheard; the Stop ‘N’ Swop monument vibrated as the noise grew increasingly loud. The bear and bird stood silently, staring in awe at what was occurring. The large stone eggs and key above almost appeared to be sweating; fluid trickled from the figures through tiny fractures in the structure. Before the duo could ponder the cause, the monument violently split apart and the huge items tumbled down the hill.

    “I guess it’s time we did our thing,” said Kazooie. She swiftly hopped inside Banjo’s backpack, and the two went to work. With no further words spoken between them, they decided to take flight to gain a better vantage point. In the air, the bear and bird focused their sights on the rolling eggs heading toward the house. A quick shot of a grenade from Kazooie’s beak diverted the first stone figure toward the spiral’s base, where it stopped. A second plummeting item crumbled under the force of a Bill Drill attack. Within minutes, the other four eggs were neutralized before they could go near Banjo’s house or pose any further threat to the land. Satisfied, the duo finally landed and viewed their handiwork. “Hehe, that was fun,” spoke the bear. “I haven’t had that much of a workout in a good while.”

    “Nice work,” said Bottles, suddenly making his appearance known at the front of their dwelling. “Personally I would have used Wonderwing to take care of the problem more quickly.” He straightened his flannel shirt and walked over to the bear and bird. “I probably would have used the Taxi Pack if wanted to avoid destroying the sculptures. Those happen to be a tribute to our fallen comrades; they should have been preserved, not pulverized.”

    An annoyed Kazooie suddenly face-winged in response, briefly covering her eyes. “Okay then. Why don’t I just loosen that one egg we didn’t destroy and let it roll down, so we can see your technique?” She aimed for the bottom of the spiral where the lone item stood. “Here goes: three… two…”

    “Wait!” The mole nearly fell over in surprise. “I was just speaking theoretically. Just an alternative strategy, nothing to get in a huff about, heh.” At that moment, Bottles peered at the lair with a sense of worry. “Say… What exactly caused those things to fall down like that, anyway?” The answer came with a deafening roar and an epic sight the three of them would not soon forget.

    An unimaginably massive wave of water issued from the entrance of the lair, spilling onto Spiral Mountain. The unrelenting rush was unlike anything they had ever seen. By sheer force, the spiral was knocked down as the raging liquid washed over the surrounding grounds. The stunning ease with which the iconic hill collapsed was a testament to the power of the crashing water. Without a second’s hesitation, Bottles fled back into the house to warn the others. Banjo and Kazooie kept their gaze on the movement of the fluid, noting that the mass would eventually run to their home and submerge it. The duo situated themselves at the front door and waited for the appropriate moment to act. Since the bear and bird had only a few golden feathers for their plan, it needed to be timed perfectly.

    The next few moments seemed to run in slow motion. A looming shadow of the foreboding wave fell over the duo and the house. The subtle spray of water running ahead of the wave hit their faces, and it was then that they activated the Wonderwing move. An impenetrable golden field encased them and split the rushing wave in two, casting the water off to the sides of the home. It did not stop the gradually rising flood, but it prevented the full weight of the wave from crushing the house and its residents. “Come on,” urged Kazooie, and the two of them carefully stepped into the entrance before the last golden feather was spent.

    Inside, the bear and bird saw that Bottles had already begun an escape plan. “Hold on there, one at a time, please!” The mole had dug a tunnel and the party attendees clamored around it, eager to avoid the impending floodwater. One by one, they shimmied into the crudely-made emergency exit. “Is that everyone?” Bottles turned his head to see a slightly moist Banjo and Kazooie. “Oh, there you guys are. Well come on, let’s go.”

    “Where does this tunnel lead to?” asked the bird. Behind her the water pressed against the windows and drizzled through the cracks in the walls. “Er, not that I object to going in or anything…”

    “What does it matter?” Bottles suddenly became distracted by the stream flowing in from the fireplace. “It’s… away from here, and that’s what counts.” The floor lurched abruptly, shifting the three off balance. Keeping their arguments to themselves, the bird, bear and mole crawled into the dirt hole and left the humble abode.

  3. I was pleasantly surprised that there was a rationale for the occasional topsy-turvy gravity and weightless scenes. These made no sense to me when I saw them in ads prior to watching the film.

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