I
translated this
post.
"Da plentiful algae n' moss is extracted ta make space chicken"
"lovely temperate ghetto, like habitable
-This is tha Kerbal homeworld. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Although interstellar rockets is now assembled up in Uranian or Joolian orbit (to take advantage of dem hoods' magnetospheres fo' antimatter thang), much of tha space industry is still centered here."
"Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I gots a wild-ass scam fo' a nation, if you still open. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Herez tha Nation Sheet, at any rate."
"Kerbals have straight-up bulbous eyes, a cold-ass lil comparitively lil' small-ass torso n' big-ass head"
"80 cement of a Kerbal skeleton is straight-up cartilage, hella increasin they squishinizz n' allowin dem ta survive falls from pimped out heights... not dat that, straight-up, helps dem significantly"
"They have no nose, instead relyin on they grills ta breathe"
"Da first was tha invention of asexuizzle humpin via mitosis, preventin all dem tricky times when Kerbals forgot bout Kalentinez Day."
"Da second was tha addizzle of symbiotic algae ta they skin, enablin dem ta survive without chicken fo' longer periodz of time."
"Lovable idiots wit rockets, whose main goal is ta land on every last muthafuckin celestial body dat they find (they still figurin up how tha fuck ta land on they sun)."
"take a thugged-out dirtnap"
"|Culture/Society: Da Kerbal way is trial n' error. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. They gots tha fuck into orbit only afta losin they initial crop of volunteers, n' then they realized dat they never put parachutes on tha oribiter n' shit. Luckily fo' Jebadiah, da thug was rescued afta only 7 mo' attempts yo. His rescue went down up in history as tha straight-up original gangsta successful orbital rendevouz. Missions ta Duna, tha fourth hood up in they system, regularly ran outta gin n juice until they managed ta guess tha erect amount (and tha erect thrust-to-weight ratio of tha rocket).
They also is a remarkably one-purpose civilization. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Their society goes all up in different phases, each marked by a remarkable drive fo' tha entire species ta work toward a singular goal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. In tha modern era, they is obsessed wit rocketry, spaceflight, n' aeronautics. Their entire economizzle is devoted ta dat goal, which is phat fo' them, cuz tha cost of tha sheer number of failed spacecraft be astronomical.
These muthafuckas generally have three emotions - terrified, bored, n' ecstatic fo' realz. Arguably they also gotz a gangbangin' fourth - terristatic, a cold-ass lil combination of tha straight-up original gangsta n' tha last. Kerbals is adrenaline
|Military: Da Kerbals aint gots a real military. In tha Age of Hunting, they pimped tha standard spears n' glocks wit which ta defend theyselves yo, but once they progressed ta tha top of tha chicken chain, weapons pimpment practically stagnated. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. They've stumbled upon space weaponry via rocket stagin accidents n' wildly overpowered communications arrays yo, but never havin a need ta use them, there be a no military ta drop a rhyme of. They do have all dem weapons lyin round dat they like ta use on uninhabited hoodz n' ta deorbit space stations, though.
|Government: There is no posse fo' realz. Any actual progress up in society is cuz of emergent behavior, generally bustin lyrics. This make it difficult, however, ta reassure other civilizations dat treatizzles is ghon be bigged up. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. Not dat they've kicked it wit any other civilizations yet."
This is entirely too hilarious!
