Typing Derby Paragraph Megathread

This is the story of a man named Stanley. Stanley worked for a company in a big building where he was employee number 427. Employee number 427’s job was simple; he sat at his desk in room 427, and he pushed buttons on a keyboard. Orders came to him through a monitor on his desk, telling him what buttons to push, how long to push them, and in what order. This is what employee 427 did every day, of every month, of every year. And although others might have considered it soul-rending, Stanley relished every moment that the orders came in, as though he had been made exactly for this job - and Stanley, was happy.

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I love this a lot, but I think the numbers are a bit of a no go, especially with how much repetition there is.

The repetition is indeed a bit redundant, but numbers are fine imo. I think using overly long and complicated words is a lot less fair or useful, because that would be a test of your reading skills, not your typing speed, which is not the point of typing derby.

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Congratulations your paragraph is now in Typing Derby

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I am a great soft jelly thing. Smoothly rounded, with no mouth, with pulsing white holes filled by fog where my eyes used to be. Rubbery appendages that were once my arms; bulks rounding down in legless humps of soft slippery matter. I leave a moist trail when I move. Blotches of diseased, evil gray come and go on my surface, as though light is being beamed from within.

Intro to Little Big Planet: 89 words

Planet Earth. Or as the rest of the omniverse call it: The Orb of Dreamers. The occupants of which spend so much time asleep and dreaming. Their vast imaginations humming away, charged with creative energy. Where does it all go? Up through a cerebral-bilical cord where it connects and melds with all the other dreamers’ energy. Then something wonderful happens: it forms a world. An ethereal dream scape of adventure and possibilities. An abstract plane of beautiful wonderment just waiting to be explored… and you can go there now.

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George’s voice became deeper. He repeated his words rhythmically
as though he had said them many times before. “Guys like us, that work
on ranches, are the loneliest guys in the world. They got no fambly.
They don’t belong no place. They come to a ranch an’ work up a stake
and then they go into town and blow their stake, and the first thing
you know they’re poundin’ their tail on some other ranch. They ain’t
got nothing to look ahead to.”

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“Hello sir, welcome to the Rat Cafe. There’s no rats here, there’s just uh, hamburgers.” “Yeah, that’d be real nice if that were true, except it isn’t. You’re a rat, aren’t you?” “No, no, why would that happen? That’s not- we’re just ra- we’re just people.” “Man, I’m gonna be taking you in and- you know, wouldn’t this be funny it it were real? Haha, just kidding. Be careful, apparently there’s a giant rat around.” “You have a good day, officer.”

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Ah, hello! You don’t look Hollow, far from it! I am Solaire of Astora, an adherent of the Lord of Sunlight. Now that I am Undead, I have come to this great land, the birthplace of Lord Gwyn, to seek my very own sun! … Do you find that strange? Well, you should! No need to hide your reaction. I get that look all the time!

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Deus ex black rain: 99 words

He sensed something odd in the air of the room, a sudden feeling that made the flesh on the back of his neck prickle. Thorne was trying to play him; those cybernetic eyes of hers weren’t the only body-mods she had working to read his intentions. Jensen was willing to bet that the agent was also augmented with a social interaction enhancer, an insidious piece of tech that allowed the user to get real-time data from a conversation subject and manipulate them with it, even coerce them with a controlled pheromone release. He wasn’t going to fall for that.

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Welcome to Team Fortress 2. After nine years in development, hopefully it will have been worth the wait. To listen to a commentary node, put your crosshair over the floating commentary symbol and press your primary fire. To stop a commentary node, put your crosshair over the rotating node and press your primary fire again. Please let me know what you think after you have had a chance to play. I can be reached at gaben@valvesoftware.com, and my favorite class is the Spy. Thanks, and have fun!

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I think this is already in typing derby unless this is a different paragraph

Oh.

I am sorry. It’s up to you now. The blue box is my time machine, there is a world of time energy in there; they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the Sun. You have to send it back to me. And that’s it I’m afraid, there’s no more from you on the transcript, that’s the last I’ve got. I don’t know what’s stopped you talking but I can guess. They’re coming. The angels are coming for you. Your life could depend on this: don’t blink. Don’t even blink. Blink and you’re dead. They are fast. Faster than you could believe. Don’t turn your back. Don’t look away and don’t blink. Good luck.

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The fact that so many books still name the Beatles as “the greatest or most significant or most influential” rock band ever only tells you how far rock music still is from becoming a serious art. Jazz critics have long recognized that the greatest jazz musicians of all times are Duke Ellington and John Coltrane, who were not the most famous or richest or best sellers of their times, let alone of all times. Classical critics rank the highly controversial Beethoven over classical musicians who were highly popular in courts around Europe. Rock critics are still blinded by commercial success. The Beatles sold more than anyone else (not true, by the way), therefore they must have been the greatest.

Snake… why are we still here? Just to suffer? Every night, I can feel my leg and my arm… even my fingers… the body I’ve lost… the comrades I’ve lost… won’t stop hurting. It’s like they’re all still there. You feel it too, don’t you? I’m the one who got caught up with Cipher. A group above nations… even the US. And I was the parasite below, feeding off Zero’s power. They came after you in Cyprus… then Afghanistan… Cipher… just keeps growing. Swallowing everything in it’s path. Getting bigger and bigger… Who knows how big now? Boss. I’m gonna make 'em give back our past… take back everything that we’ve lost. And I won’t rest… until we do.

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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. I just want to tell you how I’m feeling. Gotta make you understand. Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye. Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you.

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If you ever happen to be playing Plants vs. Zombies 1 anytime soon, here’s a couple of tips you might or might not know. First off, always plant two rows of Sunflowers. They’ll be able to give you the sun you need to plant your defense. Once you unlock him, the Kernel-Pult will essentially be your best friend, as the butter he sometimes throws will stun zombies, and can stack alongside being frozen, allowing your other plants to have at them for much longer. Always have the Squash on hand as well, especially for that pesky zombie that tires to slide past your defenses. Tall-nuts are also useful, granted they charge slowly and cost 125 sun.

Fruit Frenzy is my favorite game in the world. The simple but powerful core elements are so perfect on their own and the endless combinations of options allow you to make almost anything possible. When I say infinite, I mean every combination of gameplay element possible, it is hard to describe what it means. It’s the perfect balance to every action you can think of. Even the boring actions can result in victory with some simple strategy or quick reaction.

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Why, Mr. Anderson? Why, why, why? Why do you do it? Why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you’re fighting for something? For more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is? Do you even know? Is it freedom? Or truth? Perhaps peace? Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Tower itself, although only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now. You can’t win. It’s pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson? Why? Why do you persist? Because I choose to get all the milestones on typing derby!

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