‘Ello loves, I’m called The Operator! Thanks for stopping by. So, you’re looking for adventure are you? Great! I am in need of a few companions. What sort of adventure and what kinds of blokes am I lookin’ for? Have a cup of tea and keep readin’!
About:
This is a free-form, sci-fi humor/parody game inspired by the Tales From the Floating Vagabond RPG. The game will spoof popular sci-fi series such as Doctor Who, Star Wars, Star Trek, etc. It will mash-up different series and even different genres.
The key to understanding the feel and tone of the game is to think about the style of Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Red Dwarf, or Spaceballs, etc. It is important to know this is a spoof/parody game and NOT a fandom game. You may play an original character if you like. It is not required your character parody someone from a well-known series.
While there is combat in this game if all your character does well is kill things and really sucks at the storytelling and interaction (role play) part and you will only post if there is a fight, save us all the trouble, and go find a combat-focused game. This isn’t hack and slash.
Joining:
Do NOT post "Can I play?" in the middle of our game. Read the rules below. If you would like to join, please contact me. You must be approved before posting IC. You need a complete character profile that is filled out and accurately reflects the way you will portray your character in the game including powers, abilities, weaknesses, flaws, personality, etc. If you need help, have questions, or aren't sure the best way to introduce your character, send a PM or post on the OOC section (see below for how to do that). If the game is marked "open" in the title, then yes, we're still accepting new players.
Gameplay rules:
1. No Kids, no exceptions (Players, not characters)
2. Please write IC posts in 3rd person, past tense.
3. Please keep IC posts in the IC thread and keep OOC posts out of the IC thread. Put your message in double (( )) to make it OOC. Do not post questions/OOC discussions in the IC thread of the game. You are welcome to make a SHORT note at the end of an in-character post and label it with OOC.
4. No controlling someone else’s character or killing anyone else’s character (without consent)
5. If you hold us up for more than 5 days because you disappear on us, we have a right to retcon out or ignore your post in order to move the game forward. If you've lost interest or are dropping out, it would be polite and highly appreciated to send a short PM so we know you're not coming back. Ghosting is uncool...
6. You are welcome to make up NPCs and minor characters to advance the plot. However, if you don’t make a character profile for them, they are fair game for anyone else to control and may be used as community-controlled NPCs (ie- someone else can write as that character). Such characters may be adopted. PM the group and discuss and then you can create a character profile. Creators have dibs on NPC adoption and can make a character profile at any point for an NPC they created without the approval of anyone else.
7. Storytelling is a collaborative effort where players will advance the direction of the plot in their posts. We'll take turns playing off of each other.'s IC posts. There is no single DM/GM/Storyteller like in a system-based game such as D&D. We'll work together and will likely collaborate via PM or on the OOC board as we come up with ideas for the plot.
8. Your character needs to be well-balanced and isn’t going to be overpowered, unstoppable, and have god-like powers, and can be a team player.
9. You can “stay in your lane” and are not going to compete with someone else’s character or try to “outdo” everyone else or “suck the oxygen” out of the room during gameplay (Happy to explain if you don't understand- PM me).
10. You understand what it means to “not break the game” and that you “don’t play to win” a roleplaying game.
11. Don't be a Mary Sue or an NPC+1. If you can't do something more creative than guarding the door, look around nervously, or stare at the group with big puppy dog eyes and giggle in all of your posts, then don't bother.
12. You are comfortable with some light dice use.
13. I reserve the right to have players removed at my discretion at any time as do the other players if the group has a problem with your behavior.
14. Rules may be subject to change as needs necessitate.
15. Finally, don’t be a dick.
About:
This is a free-form, sci-fi humor/parody game inspired by the Tales From the Floating Vagabond RPG. The game will spoof popular sci-fi series such as Doctor Who, Star Wars, Star Trek, etc. It will mash-up different series and even different genres.
The key to understanding the feel and tone of the game is to think about the style of Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Red Dwarf, or Spaceballs, etc. It is important to know this is a spoof/parody game and NOT a fandom game. You may play an original character if you like. It is not required your character parody someone from a well-known series.
While there is combat in this game if all your character does well is kill things and really sucks at the storytelling and interaction (role play) part and you will only post if there is a fight, save us all the trouble, and go find a combat-focused game. This isn’t hack and slash.
Joining:
Do NOT post "Can I play?" in the middle of our game. Read the rules below. If you would like to join, please contact me. You must be approved before posting IC. You need a complete character profile that is filled out and accurately reflects the way you will portray your character in the game including powers, abilities, weaknesses, flaws, personality, etc. If you need help, have questions, or aren't sure the best way to introduce your character, send a PM or post on the OOC section (see below for how to do that). If the game is marked "open" in the title, then yes, we're still accepting new players.
Gameplay rules:
1. No Kids, no exceptions (Players, not characters)
2. Please write IC posts in 3rd person, past tense.
3. Please keep IC posts in the IC thread and keep OOC posts out of the IC thread. Put your message in double (( )) to make it OOC. Do not post questions/OOC discussions in the IC thread of the game. You are welcome to make a SHORT note at the end of an in-character post and label it with OOC.
4. No controlling someone else’s character or killing anyone else’s character (without consent)
5. If you hold us up for more than 5 days because you disappear on us, we have a right to retcon out or ignore your post in order to move the game forward. If you've lost interest or are dropping out, it would be polite and highly appreciated to send a short PM so we know you're not coming back. Ghosting is uncool...
6. You are welcome to make up NPCs and minor characters to advance the plot. However, if you don’t make a character profile for them, they are fair game for anyone else to control and may be used as community-controlled NPCs (ie- someone else can write as that character). Such characters may be adopted. PM the group and discuss and then you can create a character profile. Creators have dibs on NPC adoption and can make a character profile at any point for an NPC they created without the approval of anyone else.
7. Storytelling is a collaborative effort where players will advance the direction of the plot in their posts. We'll take turns playing off of each other.'s IC posts. There is no single DM/GM/Storyteller like in a system-based game such as D&D. We'll work together and will likely collaborate via PM or on the OOC board as we come up with ideas for the plot.
8. Your character needs to be well-balanced and isn’t going to be overpowered, unstoppable, and have god-like powers, and can be a team player.
9. You can “stay in your lane” and are not going to compete with someone else’s character or try to “outdo” everyone else or “suck the oxygen” out of the room during gameplay (Happy to explain if you don't understand- PM me).
10. You understand what it means to “not break the game” and that you “don’t play to win” a roleplaying game.
11. Don't be a Mary Sue or an NPC+1. If you can't do something more creative than guarding the door, look around nervously, or stare at the group with big puppy dog eyes and giggle in all of your posts, then don't bother.
12. You are comfortable with some light dice use.
13. I reserve the right to have players removed at my discretion at any time as do the other players if the group has a problem with your behavior.
14. Rules may be subject to change as needs necessitate.
15. Finally, don’t be a dick.
After you read every word of the above post, our story begins...
It's Christmas time across the galaxy. Presents, trees, holiday cheer. You get the idea. It's also time for the most hated of traditions... "Whammy-ageddon" starts today. Whammy, an annoying pop duo, created numerous annoying catchy little songs that have a bad habit of getting stuck inside your head in a very literal way. The duo's music is so annoying that anyone who hears their tunes may be driven mad. In fact, a parasite forms in the inner ear, burrowing deep inside the listener's skull (or wherever the being's ears, or their equivalent, may be located on their body). The parasite continues to sing the cursed melodies until surgically removed by a med droid or certain types of space magic.
The worst and most offensive of Whammy's songs, " Your Last Christmas" is so-named because it has created a parasitic strain so deadly, that listeners may die right on the spot. Their spirits are sent to "Whammyhalla". Whammyhalla is a version of hell where one spends all eternity being forced to listen to Whammy's entire horrid, wretched song catalog on repeat.
There is, of course, no escape because, well... you are dead. It is for this reason that until Christmas Day, you must avoid that dreadful song at all costs. After Christmas, the song ceases to have its strange effect for some unknown reason (besides, who listens to Christmas songs after Christmas?)
The strain apparently can only survive beginning at the official start of the holiday season and dies immediately at its conclusion. Scientists are debating how this is possible. It is widely believed that it was a science experiment that escaped from a lab, possibly a biological weapon in development that went horribly, terribly wrong.
Somewhere, on a backwater planet...
2 men walk into a bar. It hurts. A lot. A woman in a work jumpsuit with a leather tool bag dangling from her hip and a briefcase in her hand ducks a moment later, avoiding injury, and enters the establishment walking past the two blokes that now have bloody noses.
"Ello, love," She says to the barkeep looking around. "I 'eard you have a broken space payphone?"
The bartender, a big furry brown creature with no discernable facial features other than a bushy, perfectly manicured black mustache points to the wall. There, beside a currently idle space jukebox, is a space payphone with a large yellow "Out of Order" sign affixed to the receiver. The woman makes her way over to it.
About this time, a purple 3-eyed being heads toward the space jukebox with money in hand. It is about to deposit its coins into the machine when the operator whirls around, screwdriver in hand. She holds it like a knife in a rather threatening manner as she faces the creature.
"Don't even think about it, love," The woman advises. The purple alien backs away and heads for the pool tables and decides to shoot a game of space pool instead.
The Operator removes the sign and places it over the coin slot of the space jukebox. She then re-enforces it with multiple layers of tape from her belt before pulling the plug from the wall and returning her attention back to the space phone after putting her headset on.
OOC: And... action! Feel free to insert yourself however you like...
It's Christmas time across the galaxy. Presents, trees, holiday cheer. You get the idea. It's also time for the most hated of traditions... "Whammy-ageddon" starts today. Whammy, an annoying pop duo, created numerous annoying catchy little songs that have a bad habit of getting stuck inside your head in a very literal way. The duo's music is so annoying that anyone who hears their tunes may be driven mad. In fact, a parasite forms in the inner ear, burrowing deep inside the listener's skull (or wherever the being's ears, or their equivalent, may be located on their body). The parasite continues to sing the cursed melodies until surgically removed by a med droid or certain types of space magic.
The worst and most offensive of Whammy's songs, " Your Last Christmas" is so-named because it has created a parasitic strain so deadly, that listeners may die right on the spot. Their spirits are sent to "Whammyhalla". Whammyhalla is a version of hell where one spends all eternity being forced to listen to Whammy's entire horrid, wretched song catalog on repeat.
There is, of course, no escape because, well... you are dead. It is for this reason that until Christmas Day, you must avoid that dreadful song at all costs. After Christmas, the song ceases to have its strange effect for some unknown reason (besides, who listens to Christmas songs after Christmas?)
The strain apparently can only survive beginning at the official start of the holiday season and dies immediately at its conclusion. Scientists are debating how this is possible. It is widely believed that it was a science experiment that escaped from a lab, possibly a biological weapon in development that went horribly, terribly wrong.
Somewhere, on a backwater planet...
2 men walk into a bar. It hurts. A lot. A woman in a work jumpsuit with a leather tool bag dangling from her hip and a briefcase in her hand ducks a moment later, avoiding injury, and enters the establishment walking past the two blokes that now have bloody noses.
"Ello, love," She says to the barkeep looking around. "I 'eard you have a broken space payphone?"
The bartender, a big furry brown creature with no discernable facial features other than a bushy, perfectly manicured black mustache points to the wall. There, beside a currently idle space jukebox, is a space payphone with a large yellow "Out of Order" sign affixed to the receiver. The woman makes her way over to it.
About this time, a purple 3-eyed being heads toward the space jukebox with money in hand. It is about to deposit its coins into the machine when the operator whirls around, screwdriver in hand. She holds it like a knife in a rather threatening manner as she faces the creature.
"Don't even think about it, love," The woman advises. The purple alien backs away and heads for the pool tables and decides to shoot a game of space pool instead.
The Operator removes the sign and places it over the coin slot of the space jukebox. She then re-enforces it with multiple layers of tape from her belt before pulling the plug from the wall and returning her attention back to the space phone after putting her headset on.
OOC: And... action! Feel free to insert yourself however you like...
A small metal box on wheels rolls inside, missing the bar. It blasts a cloud of steam after making an obnoxious backfiring noise. Its eyestalks scan the room slowly as if it is searching for someone or something.
"Hey buddy," the brown thing behind the bar yells. "No smoking!" It points at a sign on the wall near the liquor.
"Sorry," the little box says. A moment later, it spies The Operator across the room working on the phone. The machine makes a series of whirres and beeps processing this information before it concludes with the ding of a bell. The flag on its "shoulder" raises and lowers and the red light bulb above its eyes comes on.
It then rolls across the room and stops at The Operator's feet. Its eyes tilt upward. "Mistress," it says awaiting her orders.
"Hey buddy," the brown thing behind the bar yells. "No smoking!" It points at a sign on the wall near the liquor.
"Sorry," the little box says. A moment later, it spies The Operator across the room working on the phone. The machine makes a series of whirres and beeps processing this information before it concludes with the ding of a bell. The flag on its "shoulder" raises and lowers and the red light bulb above its eyes comes on.
It then rolls across the room and stops at The Operator's feet. Its eyes tilt upward. "Mistress," it says awaiting her orders.
The Operator is busy working on the space phone when the small box rolls up to her. She glances down when it addresses her as 'Mistress'.
"Yoo-nit, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with the van. You're supposed to be the navigation system. How much navigatin' do you think I am going to need inside a pub? I'll be done in a jif! Now be a good lil computer and bugger off!"
She returns her attention to the phone and resumes her repair work.
"Yoo-nit, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with the van. You're supposed to be the navigation system. How much navigatin' do you think I am going to need inside a pub? I'll be done in a jif! Now be a good lil computer and bugger off!"
She returns her attention to the phone and resumes her repair work.
"Yoo-nit, what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with the van. You're supposed to be the navigation system. How much navigatin' do you think I am going to need inside a pub? I'll be done in a jif! Now be a good lil computer and bugger off!"
The little computer made a series of noises and a bell rang. The flag bobbed up and down and the red light on the top again flashed as it processed her response.
"Ship," Yoo-nit corrected when The Operator referred to their transport as a 'van'. "I came to assist you, mistress. You may need help navigating after a few drinks. Besides, you told me I couldn't turn on the rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io..."
Yoo-nit began skipping as a dirty vinyl record would do when the needle gets stuck in the groove. It shuttered violently and one of its eyes popped loose, dangling by the wires that connected it to the stalk of its head.
The little computer made a series of noises and a bell rang. The flag bobbed up and down and the red light on the top again flashed as it processed her response.
"Ship," Yoo-nit corrected when The Operator referred to their transport as a 'van'. "I came to assist you, mistress. You may need help navigating after a few drinks. Besides, you told me I couldn't turn on the rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io..."
Yoo-nit began skipping as a dirty vinyl record would do when the needle gets stuck in the groove. It shuttered violently and one of its eyes popped loose, dangling by the wires that connected it to the stalk of its head.
U.N.I.T. wrote:
The little computer made a series of noises and a bell rang. The flag bobbed up and down and the red light on the top again flashed as it processed her response.
"Ship," Yoo-nit corrected when The Operator referred to their transport as a 'van'. "I came to assist you, mistress. You may need help navigating after a few drinks. Besides, you told me I couldn't turn on the rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io..."
Yoo-nit began skipping as a dirty vinyl record would do when the needle gets stuck in the groove. It shuttered violently and one of its eyes popped loose, dangling by the wires that connected it to the stalk of its head.
"Ship," Yoo-nit corrected when The Operator referred to their transport as a 'van'. "I came to assist you, mistress. You may need help navigating after a few drinks. Besides, you told me I couldn't turn on the rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io...rad-ee-io..."
Yoo-nit began skipping as a dirty vinyl record would do when the needle gets stuck in the groove. It shuttered violently and one of its eyes popped loose, dangling by the wires that connected it to the stalk of its head.
"Don't argue with me you daft little toaster," The Operator retorted when the droid corrected her. She gave it a good hard kick when it began repeating itself. She then bent down to reattach its eye and tightened the screws so they wouldn't come loose again.
"You're the one that can't keep it together, literally! How are you going to help me? Ya haven't got any hands and I am NOT here to drink, thank you! Also, you know good and well why you can't put the radio on this time of year.! I'll get this space phone working, and then we'll be on our way..."
The Operator then returned her attention back to the phone. She checked for a dial tone after reconnecting a few wires and dialed a test code. Everything seemed in order. She put it back together and then made her way to the bar.
"I need a drink," She said more to herself than the bartender, taking a seat on the nearest available barstool.
The little computer sat quietly after The Operator gave him a good kick so he'd stop skipping. She continued working on the payphone and then put it back together after a few minutes and tested it. Yoo-nit expected they would head back to the ship and be on their way. Humans could be unpredictable, however.
After saying she wasn't going to get a drink at the bar, that is exactly what she did. The small robot rolled over to the barstool she was perched on like a loyal puppy following its owner into the restroom. It tilted its eyes up to watch her but sat quietly.
After saying she wasn't going to get a drink at the bar, that is exactly what she did. The small robot rolled over to the barstool she was perched on like a loyal puppy following its owner into the restroom. It tilted its eyes up to watch her but sat quietly.
Being careful how he enters, Space Racer enters the bar. He's a bit under the drinking age, and doesn't want to draw the attention of a bouncer.
Hopefully, he can leverage his status as a well-known driver through out the system if questioned. He spies the woman sitting alone at the bar, makes his way over and sits down beside her.
Hopefully, he can leverage his status as a well-known driver through out the system if questioned. He spies the woman sitting alone at the bar, makes his way over and sits down beside her.
The Operator glances at the blonde guy casually as he sits down. "What are you drinking," The brown furry being with the mustache asks. "Scotch on the rocks," The Operator replies.
It then turns to the man. "And you sir? Are you on the same tab?"
So far, the bartender hasn't asked for any ID.
"Uhhh, well we're not actually together," The Operator replies awkwardly. "In fact, we've not even been introduced, really..."
It then turns to the man. "And you sir? Are you on the same tab?"
So far, the bartender hasn't asked for any ID.
"Uhhh, well we're not actually together," The Operator replies awkwardly. "In fact, we've not even been introduced, really..."
"Yeah, uh, we just met actually," Space says rubbing his head sheepishly. "But, uh, yeah! She's on my tab! I'll have an Arnie Palmer, on the rocks."
Space turns to The Operator and extends his hand. "Space. Space Racer, Galactic racer, and stunt driver. You've probably heard of me. I don't think I've uh, seen you in here, um, before..."
Space turns to The Operator and extends his hand. "Space. Space Racer, Galactic racer, and stunt driver. You've probably heard of me. I don't think I've uh, seen you in here, um, before..."
The Operator raises an eyebrow when Mr. Racer orders an "Arnie Palmer".
"Operator, The Operator. At least that's what people call me," She replies a bit sarcastically. "Racer, eh? Sorry, don't follow motorsports. Can't say your name rings a bell, love. So what is a big-time superstar doing in a hole-in-the-wall backwater dive like this? You haven't seen me before, because it's my first time here. I was here on a job. Had to fix the space phone over there. It was on the fritz. Just havin' myself a quick drink and I'll be on my way."
The Operator gestures to the payphone across the room next to the Jukebox with the Out of Order sign on it. The bartender sets their drinks down in front of them.
"Operator, The Operator. At least that's what people call me," She replies a bit sarcastically. "Racer, eh? Sorry, don't follow motorsports. Can't say your name rings a bell, love. So what is a big-time superstar doing in a hole-in-the-wall backwater dive like this? You haven't seen me before, because it's my first time here. I was here on a job. Had to fix the space phone over there. It was on the fritz. Just havin' myself a quick drink and I'll be on my way."
The Operator gestures to the payphone across the room next to the Jukebox with the Out of Order sign on it. The bartender sets their drinks down in front of them.
"Oh, you're with the phone company! Intergalactic Telephone? No way! They're one of my sponsors! You must know me! I drive #42... I've done commercials for your company," Space says.
He glances down at U.N.I.T. and points. "So, uh like what's the deal with the antique microwave?"
He glances down at U.N.I.T. and points. "So, uh like what's the deal with the antique microwave?"
Yoo-nit rotates its eyes between the Operator and the Racecar driver. When asked about itself, the computer makes a whirring noise followed by a series of beeps and chirps. It finally lets out a loud ding and the flag on its should swings out and down. Finally, the red bulb on its head came on. "I am the ship's computer," it responded in an even, monotone voice. The robot then tilts its eyes toward the operator.
"Van," The Operator snaps looking down at Yoo-nit. She then looks back to Space. "Oh, yes. Big blue car? I've seen those. You've probably heard of me, too. At least my voice. "Ello, love, you've dialed the wrong @%& number you, twit! Hang up and try your bloody call again when ya can get the number right! Well, not quite in those words, but I'm thinking it... I used to connect calls but the linemen's union is on strike, so I'm out flying around in this little space van fixing payphones while a literal trained monkey is sitting at my board connecting calls, and not very well I might add. So, you never told me what you're doing out here in a dive bar like this Mr. Celebrity Race driver..."
Just then a group of masked men with Santa hats and matching red suits storm into the bar. "Nobody move! We're with SANTA! Not the fat guy! S.A.N.T.A. or Society of anarchists, narcissists, Terrorists, and Associates! "
"What the bloody hell," The Operator asks whirling around to see the 5 thugs.
"Now, the bartender is going to hand over the tv remotes and we're going to enjoy a nice marathon of Space Hallmark shows," the leader says. "Don't do anything stupid cuz we have "Your Last Christams cued up on this here space mobile phone! One false move and you're all goin' to Whammyhalla for the holidays!"
Just then a group of masked men with Santa hats and matching red suits storm into the bar. "Nobody move! We're with SANTA! Not the fat guy! S.A.N.T.A. or Society of anarchists, narcissists, Terrorists, and Associates! "
"What the bloody hell," The Operator asks whirling around to see the 5 thugs.
"Now, the bartender is going to hand over the tv remotes and we're going to enjoy a nice marathon of Space Hallmark shows," the leader says. "Don't do anything stupid cuz we have "Your Last Christams cued up on this here space mobile phone! One false move and you're all goin' to Whammyhalla for the holidays!"
"Ship," Yoo-nit retorted again when The Operator corrected it. Suddenly, there was a disruption as a group of beings dressed as Santa stormed into the establishment. Yoo-nit turned its eyestalks 180 degrees. There was a whirring noise and a series and beeps and chirps. The little flag on his shoulder went up and down and the red bulb on top of his head lit up as he processed what was going on, followed by the ding of a bell. No one was paying attention to the little droid, so it swiveled its eyes back around and rolled behind the bar out of sight while everyone was distracted.
"Hallmark movies," Space asked. "Who wants to watch that crap? It's the same plot over and over with the same group of actors. Big time successful rich girl quits her big corporate job and moves to a small town to find herself, meets the aww shucks guy in town, they have to save a small business being threatened by said rich girl's former or soon-to-be-former employer, and she ends up saving the small business, marrying the guy and finding the true meaning of Christmas. Big deal... Why do you have to torture the rest of us with your crappy poorly written low budget holiday flick?"
"We are narcacists! Our needs come first! We will terrorize you with bad made for televisions movie in a pathetic attempt to meet our own selfish needs to have a Christmas party because no one likes us," the leader sounds. "Bartender! A round of eggnog for everyone and those remotes NOW!"
The bartender hands over the remotes to the televisions around the room. Slowly, each is turned to the Hallmark channel.
"But why are you doing this? You have each other, why can't you just watch these movies together without dragging us into this," The Operator asks.
"Silence! Do not question us! Enjoy this story of this ad manager who is burned out and needs to rediscover herself in a small town adventure! Otherwise, we'll play the song..."
"Hold on a tick, love," The Operator protested. "If you play it, you'll go to Whammyhalla, too!"
The bartender hands over the remotes to the televisions around the room. Slowly, each is turned to the Hallmark channel.
"But why are you doing this? You have each other, why can't you just watch these movies together without dragging us into this," The Operator asks.
"Silence! Do not question us! Enjoy this story of this ad manager who is burned out and needs to rediscover herself in a small town adventure! Otherwise, we'll play the song..."
"Hold on a tick, love," The Operator protested. "If you play it, you'll go to Whammyhalla, too!"
"Oh look at you with all your facts and logic," The gang member says. "Enjoy the show and don't argue."
The bartender gives everyone eggnog as the show begins.
"So, if you just want friends to have a Christmas party with, why not watch something fun?" Space suggests. "Die Hard is a great flick! Or we could watch that one about Ralphie, or what about the Griswalds..."
"Silence! This isn't about friends or fun! This is about suffering! Christmas is an unhappy time for us and we are here to spread misery! That is what being a narcissistic anarchist terrorist is about! Let the suffering begin!"
"I can't take this crappy Christmas movie," Space says under his breath to The Operator as the brown furry guy sets a glass of eggnog in front of him.
The bartender gives everyone eggnog as the show begins.
"So, if you just want friends to have a Christmas party with, why not watch something fun?" Space suggests. "Die Hard is a great flick! Or we could watch that one about Ralphie, or what about the Griswalds..."
"Silence! This isn't about friends or fun! This is about suffering! Christmas is an unhappy time for us and we are here to spread misery! That is what being a narcissistic anarchist terrorist is about! Let the suffering begin!"
"I can't take this crappy Christmas movie," Space says under his breath to The Operator as the brown furry guy sets a glass of eggnog in front of him.
Yoo-nit hid under the bar wanting to avoid detection. While it hoped The Operator and the others made it out okay, right now its mind was on self-preservation. That's what it had done previously when it was a kitchen appliance on a stolen ship. While the thieves were scrapping it for anything useful, Yoo-nit had managed to hide undetected. Eventually, it had managed to signal various beings hoping they would fix the ship.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen and one of the beings took Yoo-nit with it. Yoo-nit had hoped to be put to use on a new ship but found itself in a space pawn shop. It was traded to various individuals in online auctions and swap meets before eventually being acquired by the telephone company. It currently was the nav. computer for The Operator's ship.
It hoped to keep that job, but it wasn't taking any chances. While the barkeeper was busy making eggnog and had its back turned, Yoo-nit rolled out from under the bar and under a set of swinging doors. It looked around the kitchen for a moment and tried to find a good place to blend in. After all, it had been a kitchen appliance once upon a time. The best place, it reasoned, was to hide in plain sight and make it look like it belonged there.
Unfortunately, that didn't happen and one of the beings took Yoo-nit with it. Yoo-nit had hoped to be put to use on a new ship but found itself in a space pawn shop. It was traded to various individuals in online auctions and swap meets before eventually being acquired by the telephone company. It currently was the nav. computer for The Operator's ship.
It hoped to keep that job, but it wasn't taking any chances. While the barkeeper was busy making eggnog and had its back turned, Yoo-nit rolled out from under the bar and under a set of swinging doors. It looked around the kitchen for a moment and tried to find a good place to blend in. After all, it had been a kitchen appliance once upon a time. The best place, it reasoned, was to hide in plain sight and make it look like it belonged there.
The Operator sat quietly looking straight ahead doing her best to tune out the horrible Christmas movie. She sipped her eggnog occasionally. As bad as this was, it beat spending eternity in Whamhalla. Eventually, these terrorists would probably get bored and leave and life could get back to normal.
Occasionally, a new patron would walk into the bar, hit their nose, and require a tissue as they were briefed on the situation. The lucky ones remembered to duck first. Even though they too were forced to watch sappy low-budget movies, at least they didn't have a sore face.
It was 3 hours in that some unfortunate bloke finally snapped. A purple-skinned heavyset humanoid finally had enough and decided to make a break for it. This of course made their captors very angry.
"So this chap hates Christmas," The leader announced. "Come now old man, we're going to make an example of you so no one else does anything stupid."
The poor being was dragged to the center of the room by the thugs. A headset was plugged into the space MP3 player and the phones were pressed onto his head. "No, wait, please..." the alien protested.
"No wait," The Operator pleaded and stood up. As she did, the leader pressed play. The fat purple humanoid began to scream and fell to the floor motionless after putting up an impressive struggle. The thugs managed to keep the phones over his ears despite desperate attempts to remove them. His purple corpse lay in the center of the room, headphones still over his ears.
Occasionally, a new patron would walk into the bar, hit their nose, and require a tissue as they were briefed on the situation. The lucky ones remembered to duck first. Even though they too were forced to watch sappy low-budget movies, at least they didn't have a sore face.
It was 3 hours in that some unfortunate bloke finally snapped. A purple-skinned heavyset humanoid finally had enough and decided to make a break for it. This of course made their captors very angry.
"So this chap hates Christmas," The leader announced. "Come now old man, we're going to make an example of you so no one else does anything stupid."
The poor being was dragged to the center of the room by the thugs. A headset was plugged into the space MP3 player and the phones were pressed onto his head. "No, wait, please..." the alien protested.
"No wait," The Operator pleaded and stood up. As she did, the leader pressed play. The fat purple humanoid began to scream and fell to the floor motionless after putting up an impressive struggle. The thugs managed to keep the phones over his ears despite desperate attempts to remove them. His purple corpse lay in the center of the room, headphones still over his ears.
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