Some Joker Calling Himself "Chim Richards" Has Been Messing with Us


The only evidence of said maniac's existence.
  • The only evidence of said maniac's existence.

Here at RFT Music, we're dedicated to keeping track of all the great concerts going on in town, so you don't have to. From scouring the calendars of the area's best venues and snatching up flyers to collecting event submissions via carrier pigeon and this thing called the Internet, we get all kinds of show information every single day. Sometimes, though, we get trolled and rickrolled so dang good. We ain't even mad though, 'cuz we're no strangers to love. You know the rules, and so do I. A full commitment's what I'm thinking of. You wouldn't get this from any other guy.

Quick reminder: this is how you should submit shows to us if you want to make sure we cover what matters to you. Check it out and tell us what's going on. We're happy to help in whatever ways we can. Alternatively, you could follow the model of some maniac who has been submitting shows to us in somewhat unconventional ways. His name is Chim Richards, he is a madman and we, at RFT Music, genuinely salute him.

SUBMITTOR'S NAME: Monsignor Richards

EVENT: "Event of Uncertain Origin"

DATE: 2014-2-18

TIME: When the Bough Breaks

COST: your last cup of sorrow

VENUE NAME: Lil' Mix-Ups Gender Dysmorphic Paintball Dungeon

CONTACT NAME: Heike Schlagzeug


DESCRIPTION: Warring Factions of St. Louis:

It is I, Chim Richards. Wizard-slayer, danger-maker, crud-fudger and corn-popper to the stars. For far too long has this city been divided by the invisible boundaries of hirsutism. The hairless youths and Washington Avenue party poopers rule the more vacuous quarters of the night; The lushly-furred wunderkinder of the underground hold sway over the bizarre nether-realm. Around them, the city sinks into the clawed grasp of Ennui and her lap-dog, Doldrums. Only a god-king could bridge the gap that separates your sects. I am that god-king, but I have been busy with my puzzles and placemat mazes. In my stead I send to you the might and mystery of Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen, Nuerenberg's most popular bassist. Only through the sonic wreckage wrought by this most primordial of tunesmiths can the fault lines of your home be healed. Not by welding shut the breach -- nay, not at all. Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen will shatter and smash and melt all that stands before it, leaving only a bubbling ooze that will cover your city to a depth of 17 leagues. In time that sludge sea will birth a new lifeform, one that percolates first, then swims, then crawls, then walks, then flies, then flickers ceaselessly through all realms and worlds. But that is untold millennia from now. You call for a god? I send you a sky beast, an earth titan, a fire storm, a celestial wind, a monster. I send you Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen. All shall fall. All shall die. All shall be remade in the image of Meistereseichenreichenessefussegesangen.

Don't forget to visit the merchtable.


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SUBMITTOR'S NAME: Rich Chimchards

EVENT: Where Is My Robotic Boot

DATE: 2014-1-23

TIME: when the boot is found

COST: 23 pfennig

VENUE NAME: Der Schwarzwald

VENUE ADDRESS: 6358 delmar Bd 63130

CONTACT NAME: Warlord Chim

DESCRIPTION: Where is my robotic boot? My father gave it to me on my 24th birthday. I had been gravely injured in a toboggan accident, and the doctors said I would never walk again. My father left the room at that point and didn't return. I assumed he was ashamed of my weakness, my disability, and had rejected me for being less than a man. Six years later he returned, looking exactly as he did the day he disappeared. Same hair, same smile, same clothes. In his hand was a massive chunk of metal that shone iridescent green, like the carapace of a beetle. Snaking conduits and wires dangled from one end, and it shed an ichorous gleet at regular intervals. "My son, this I won in battle from an odious necromancer. It is alive yet dead, warm to the touch but cold from a distance. He swore that this thing allowed him to walk, and so I struck him down and severed it while he lay dazed." He inserted my withered leg into this eldritch object and, to my shock and horror, I felt it meld with my flesh. Those dripping conduits burrowed through my leg and affixed themselves to the bones therein with a hungry grating sound. But I could walk. I could run. I could toboggan once again, for the honor of clan and country. Now I am aged, and the weight of my years pushes my eyes to the ground. Still, I walk as powerfully as I did when I was 24 -- or at least I did until last night, when my father appeared behind me in a shuddering haze of unnatural light. "Old man, are you the one they call Chim Richards?," he shouted. "Father, you know that to be true --" "Don't call me father, necromancer! I've come for you and your sorcerous appendage!," he shouted as he buffeted my head with the haft of his ax. I dropped, mazed and helpless. He hacked off my leg, the one he gave me centuries ago with such pride, and spat in my face. "A pox on all your vile kind, necromancer. Would that I had time to slay you, but my son waits in another dimension for my return." He vanished into that luminous cicatrice without another word. I am old, my powers quartered by overuse and the passing of the seasons. I no longer recall how I became this creature, this inhuman figure of dissipated power. But I know this: The man who finds and slays my traitorous father and recovers my robotic boot will have all of my wealth and what remains of my knowledge. If you see Geddy Lee on the road, kill him.

CATEGORY/GENRE: Scavenger Hunt

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EVENT: The Vanfire of the Bonities

DATE: 2014-1-31

TIME: sundown

COST: 1 (one) van

VENUE NAME: Vervel's Vans and Steak Knife Depot

VENUE ADDRESS: 6358 Delmar Boolevard 63130

CONTACT NAME: Why, Vervel of course

DESCRIPTION: AVAST! I, Chim X. Richards, will psionically assault the coward Vervel using my enormous mental prowess. When I am through with him he shall be a gibbering husk, 370 lbs of man-shaped pudding good only for mockery and perhaps fingerblasting. Vervel knows what he has done. No more shall that shiftless peddler of cheap cutlery and shoddy vans take advantage of the good people of this city. His reign of inadequacy comes to an end soon, and I shall be the agent of his wreckage. Mark me, I shall not lay hand nor foot 'pon his quivering bulk. His destruction shall be achieved through mindwipes, brain blasts and the dreaded ego whip. Of course, this is overkill; Vervel is a moron as well as a coward, and his brain (although I hesitate to call the grey mass of bubble gum in his pointed head "a brain") will leak out his ears and onto his sloped shoulders. This I promise; this I shall achieve.

CATEGORY/GENRE: Ritual -------------------


EVENT: Den endelige daggry

DATE: 24-12-13

TIME: Det kommer av skumring

COST: Hva er prisen på sverd?

VENUE NAME: Torshavn

VENUE ADDRESS: 6358 Delmar Bd 63130

CONTACT NAME: Egil Skallagrim

DESCRIPTION: Hemmeligheten av hva sover bak dødsfallet. Kunnskapen om den tapte. Den svarte lys av plassene under stjernene. Vinden som blåser innover. Øyeblikket før øksen faller. Adskillelse av kjøtt og bein. Tapet og forbannelse ærbødighet. Majestet nederlag når det er total. The Sunde av denne verden fra Yggdrasil. Slutten av alt redde strid.

CATEGORY/GENRE: intetsigende kamper

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EVENT: Zounds!

DATE: 12-24-2013

TIME: the dinner hour

COST: interest only, no hard currency

VENUE NAME: Skies of this World and the Next

VENUE ADDRESS: 9000004 Cloud Tops

CONTACT NAME: The Necromancer S'Claus

DESCRIPTION: Children of the five elements, this world is doomed. An age undreamed of by mortal man is dawning, and in the afterbirth there shall be no survivors; only slaves, and the lucky dead. Hoard your chewing gums and sharpen your toothbrush shanks into weapons, for you will need all your strength and relics to undo this great happening. Aroo! Aroo! The goat bellows his hoary clarion of victory, but know this: One who is not of you still fights on your side. When the darkness is succulent with foulness, I shall emerge from my sanctuary to wage war once again.

But I need some beer, so have that waiting. Something dark, preferably foreign.

CATEGORY/GENRE: Mysterious Occurance



EVENT: Fancy Cake Party

DATE: 12-12-2013

TIME: Let's say 6-ish

COST: One human finger

VENUE NAME: Break Room

VENUE ADDRESS: 6358 Delmar Boolevard

CONTACT NAME: Mrs. Chim Richards, Jr.

DESCRIPTION: We journey to a dark place. There is the unmistakable scent of evil, and perhaps some raven effigies, cut from the clothes of lost children. In this place we discover a cake, forlorn and abandoned by its uncaring baker. It smells of liverwurst, and not the fresh stuff. We cut this cake and discover a myriad of jubilant smaller cakes nestled inside the loathsome husk. These smaller cakes gleam with a fondant that was piped by the Celestial Confectioner, who makes no mistakes; even the rosettes are shimmering with serene majesty. All of these smaller cakes are yours for the taking.

CATEGORY/GENRE: Fancy Cake Party


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