ABOARD THE S.S. Doomed:
Comm. Ming: Ah, base distress signal. Begin powering up our ship from drylock and tell the station commander that the situation will be under control shortly.
Lt. Holocat: We can't commodore.
Comm. Ming: Why not?
Lt. Holocat: The base has been utterly obliterated commodore. No survivors.
An dark look passed accross Ming's features: And how do you know that? We haven't gotten through our sensor cycling yet. I haven't even declared red alert yet!
Lt. Holocat: Drunk crewman in the observation deck reported commodore. Plas-F fighter swarmed. Several heavy cruisers as well.
Comm. Ming: Well, at least we can try to get a signal off. Have our sensors come on line yet?
Lt. Holocat: Yessir. Several contacts at medium close range. Fighter groups detected. 20+ Plas-F incoming, this vessel targeted.
Comm. Ming: Do we have a wild weasel?
Lt. Holocat: Shuttle bay's still clearing all their empty beer bottles off the launch pad sir.
Comm. Ming: Engines?
Lt. Holocat: Still warming up sir.
Comm. Ming: Shields?
Lt. Holocat: Against 20 Plas-F's? Sir?
Comm. Ming: Yes?
Lt. Holocat: What do we do?
A little orange eyepiece flicks infront of the commodore's eye, a la "The Last Starfighter.": We die.
The incandescent orange fireball lit up space briefly and was no more, the program deleting the polygons after they had moved some distance from vision to save on processing time.
A small black cat got up off the floor and hopped onto a chair arm. "What'cha up to?" The inquisitive cat asked.
Ming looked at the intruder for a moment, not knowing were it came from. However, as the cat was the one making up the psudeo story, Ming quickly forgot this. "I'm posting to the forums about the difficulty in DoE and asking when a 'normal' server will be up. There, just finished."
The cat looked to it's left and touched Ming's desk, causing an oddly shaped starship monitor to spring from the desk, next to the computer.
"Where'd you get that?" Ming asked.
"This? Oh, it's a plot device. Ignore it."
"Alright..." Ming cautiously replied.
"Anyway, it says on this monitor that--"
"Wait." Ming said suddenly.
The small grey cat started, hopping onto the desk. "What?"
"Am I still supposed to be ignoring you? You're speaking in regards to the device i'm supposed to be ignoring--"
"Aug, no," The cat bristled, "It's a PLOT DEVICE. You don't ignore it, you ignore how it got there. Aaaanyway," The cat drawled, "the monitor reports several incoming contacts."
"What do you mean, 'Incoming contacts'? Are we on a starship or in my room?"
"It's your thread, why don't you decide?" The cat retorted, put out by the constant barrage of questions.
"What do you mean? It's not like you're telling me that you're going to post this; I have no control over your silly desire to make this thread even more off topic that it was when everyone else piled in."
"Hmpth," The cat conceded, "Alright, we're on a Federation Starship Bridge."
And in that magic that is movie and writing, they suddenly were, complete with the goofy lights and ambient noise.
Commodore Ming surveyed the bridge and dusted off the single triagular pip that denoted the commodore's rank. "Hey, when did I--"
The cat simply glared at the commodore.
"Oh, FINE. Report then, Lieutenant."
"Multiple incoming contacts; At least a couple England, one American, several Swiss, one belgium, and several unidentifieds."
"Belguim?"
"The order for cheeze was so high the swiss had to subcontract sir. All are armed with several FT-4's."
"FT?"
"Flame Thread sir."
"And the 4 would denote..."
"Yessir, Starbase version. Bad feelings all the way out to post 20, critically so under range 5. We're being boarded sir!"
The turbolift doors blew open and the security guards were quickly stunned, as per what their contracts for this show stated. Through the conviently dramatic haze of smoke and sparking stations two people emerged; The first, completely unidentifiable for the terrorist chik bandana and uniform, the other wearing a tutu and a burka.
DH123 strode forward and spoke in arabic. <We are hijacking this thread to talk academically about customised shiplists versus stock shiplists!>
Kroma, not far behind DH123, voiced her assent. "Kai!"
DH123 continued his tirade. <We will discuss difficulty levels, the problems with evil dave server compatiably, and bring out the closet skeleton of closet skeletons, SFB!>
"Kai!"
DH123 rounded on Kroma. <What is this 'Kai!' stuff? Can't you do a proper arabic fanatical slogan?>
"Well, what's 'Kai!' translate to in arabic then?" Kroma asked.
DH123 threw his hands in the air, stopped, then looked at Kroma with sudden frankness. <How the hell should I know? Holocat's faking arabic by putting <> signs around an english sentence.>
"Damn cheapo writer." Kroma spat.
Commodore Ming chose that time to spoke, "Actually I didn't want to turn this thread into--"
"NO!" The answer from every thread hijacker was instant and irrefutable.
"But--"
"NO!!! Must Holocat put more exclamation marks beside that word?!" They chourused.
Ming subsided and looked at his lieutenant. "What do we do now?"
A little orange eyepiece clicked infront of the little cat's eye, al la 'The Last Starfighter.' "We die."
The resulting supernovae of flames flashed for some time, and then became no more, Taldren deciding to bury the thread before the flamers got worked up enough to start SFB and balance arguments again.
"It's getting toasty in here," The cat remarked. "Any trout about?"
Holocat.
Topic: Any Normal campaigns coming soon? (Read 8582 times)