Queen Raidne
Member
Raspberry Diva
STATUS: Teaching myself web development by trying to fix some BBCode bugs/features in the Guild is probably a bad idea. Oh, well. 7 yrs ago
- Last Seen: 4 yrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Raidne
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 1018 (0.26 / day)
- VMs: 1
-
Username history
- Queen Raidne 11 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
PrinceAlexus,
Izurich,
Sep,
Forsythe
Status
Recent Statuses
7 yrs ago
Current
Teaching myself web development by trying to fix some BBCode bugs/features in the Guild is probably a bad idea. Oh, well.
1
like
7 yrs ago
Depression is literally soul-sucking.
4
likes
7 yrs ago
If school were less hard, it'd be less interesting. I still want it to be less hard, though.
1
like
8 yrs ago
GUYSGUYSGUYS - I PASSED DYNAMICS!
5
likes
9 yrs ago
Adventures!
3
likes
Bio
Maybe I'll update this.
Most Recent Posts
I get off atound 3 today, and then I'll start that collab. For reference, it's 12:54 right now.
So, any of you Star Trek ships want to collab? I'm going to try and send a boarding party over to you. Or something to that effect. The Protector II could at least use a few repairs, and I want to break the 4th wall a bit and have Guy recognize Star Trek as the obscure one-off film parody of Galaxy Quest.
Sorry, Rare! I'm responding right now.
Edit: Hmm. I still can't edit your collab for some reason. I posted some more here, though.
Edit 2: Well, now I see the Titanpad one. That worked. :P
Edit: Hmm. I still can't edit your collab for some reason. I posted some more here, though.
Edit 2: Well, now I see the Titanpad one. That worked. :P
There. I exploded part of a space station near you. Feel free to try and "rescue" survivors. Or not. It's not too badly damaged, honestly. Nothing they won't be able to repair themselves. (Almost) routine. But there are a few ARC troopers on the station still. That'd be nice to be dealt with.
NTRS Exodus, several minutes ago:
"HAAHAAAHAA! Take zat, you foolihz marzhmallowz! How unrobuzt can you be!" The station's chemist said via radio. He cackled for a few more seconds, pleased with the results of his grenade. Then he got back to work on making another one. Of course, he already had one spare, just in case things went balls-up on the station. Or rather, he'd used his spare hellmix grenade to thwart the invaders, and now was busy mixing another one for his personal use. Only once he was re-armed (you never knew when, say, the geneticist would go hulk on you) would chemist get to work on another for the invaders.
"Attention. Fascist forces on course with Arrivals," Commie-Bot 9000 announced, also over the station radio.
At the escape-wing airlock that the imperials had just docked, the scene was rather messy. Four red-shirted, black-helmeted sec officers were now rushing off the scene towards Arrivals. The janitor, or rather, an assistant that had broken into the custodial closet and stolen all the janitorial gear in lieu of actually getting his job changed (which was, of course, impossible without either the Head of Personnell [currently MIA] or the Captain [currently drunk] giving permission) was rushing in the opposite direction. Another sec officer was right behind the janitor. The other three officers were back in the armory, donning riot gear and grabbing energy guns. These three were the only truly competent ones, of course. Chris Intrench, the mechanic, was also rushing toward the failed invasion scene, hoping to steal an imperial weapon to research, reverse-engineer, and "improve".
Clear on the other side of the station, an imperial shuttle docked at Arrivals. Eight fully-armed ARC troopers exited the shuttle. The mime, briefly glimpsing the the eight through the airlock, went rushing off toward the bridge. The mime stopped at the sight of a security borg. He put his hands together and imitated a shuttle flying through space. Then he stood upright and fired an imaginary gun. He then pointed frantically back at Arrivals. The security borg, having finally found the Mime (one of the station's most wanted persons, aside from, of course, the Clown), promptly stun-batoned the Mime, cuffed him, and began dragging him toward Security.
There was, in all, very little hope of repelling the eight ARC troopers. A single assistant bravely tried to bash an ARC trooper's head in with a toolbox. It ended poorly for the assistant, who, it turned out, was rather unrobust.
~o~0~o~
Captain Chris Donut eyed the latest fizzing Pan-Galactic Gargleblaster warily, like it might escape at any moment. The successive layers of alcohol in the drink swirled back and forth, like something rather horrible that was supposed to be happening somewhere important.
"Attention, you capitalist pigs. Fascists have boarded the station. They are approaching Security. I have electrified the Security doors," Commie-Bot 9000 announced.
"Wha--aatt w-aa-ss thaaaaat?" Chris slurred. "Issh nooo-ttt unn-mmmportant."
Captain Chris Donut eyed the latest fizzing Pan-Galactic Gargleblaster warily. Something dire was bothering him.
The station emitted three high-pitched dings.
"PRIORITY ANNOUNCEMENT. This is the HoS, Vladimir Rein. All security forces, please repel invaders at Security."
A small wave of assistants collided outside the bar, some rushing toward Security, eager to either raid the armory or join the fight. Others were rushing away from certain death.
The Captain stood up and rifled through his backpack for a small gray device - the handheld station teleporter. He pressed some buttons, and appeared in the bridge.
"TRAITORS IN ARRIVALS! THEY'VE GOT ENERGY G-Argh!"
Chris stared at the bridge consoles. Why was he here? There was something important.
"Clear Arrivals! I'm teleporting a bomb there!" the telescientist said. A few seconds later, a bomb exploded harmlessly in space near arrivals.
[i]"Did I get them?"
"No, you fuck! It exploded in space! Learn to use the teleporter!"
Ah, yes. The station was imploding. Time to do the thing he was here for. The Captain pressed a button at the Communications console.
[Call Emergency Shuttle?]
>[Yes]
[State Reason.]
>[Station's Fucked, Time to Go Home]
[...]
[Server Out of Range.]
That was weird. These things were supposed to be able to reach Central Command from anywhere.
"Officer down! Officer down! AI, send all security borgs to assist in Security!"
"Security borgs re-routed from Arrivals. I hope this teaches you filthy Capitalists a lesson in careful phrasing."
Oh, well. Maybe he could nuke the station. Of course! Chris went into his quarters, opened his personal locker by swiping his ID, and grabbed his emergency Atomic Bomb. He took a sip. Damn, he was smart for hiding such a complex drink here.
"Okay, I'm gonna try again," the telescientist said.
The captain stared uncomprehendingly at the small switch behind his Atomic Bomb-stashing-place. What'd that do, again? Was that his emergency teleport switch? He flipped it. A console popped up from the floor behind him. He logged in.
"It's recharging," the telescientist said.
The console menu said "Bluespace Drive". Weird name for a teleport.
[Select Coordinates]
>[Last Known Bluespace Drive Event]
[Activate Bluespace Drive?]
>[Yes]
The entire station disappeared in a bright flash, leaving behind a series of electric sparks. Seconds later, it reappeared outside the system, very near the battlestar Columbia. The system had determined that the Columbia's FTL drive was the nearest thing to a Bluespace Drive event. As it appeared, telescience managed to detonate their bomb near Arrivals. A sizeable chunk of the hallway outside of the Bridge and Security was destroyed, now venting into space. Five ARC troopers went tumbling into the void with it.
"HAAHAAAHAA! Take zat, you foolihz marzhmallowz! How unrobuzt can you be!" The station's chemist said via radio. He cackled for a few more seconds, pleased with the results of his grenade. Then he got back to work on making another one. Of course, he already had one spare, just in case things went balls-up on the station. Or rather, he'd used his spare hellmix grenade to thwart the invaders, and now was busy mixing another one for his personal use. Only once he was re-armed (you never knew when, say, the geneticist would go hulk on you) would chemist get to work on another for the invaders.
"Attention. Fascist forces on course with Arrivals," Commie-Bot 9000 announced, also over the station radio.
At the escape-wing airlock that the imperials had just docked, the scene was rather messy. Four red-shirted, black-helmeted sec officers were now rushing off the scene towards Arrivals. The janitor, or rather, an assistant that had broken into the custodial closet and stolen all the janitorial gear in lieu of actually getting his job changed (which was, of course, impossible without either the Head of Personnell [currently MIA] or the Captain [currently drunk] giving permission) was rushing in the opposite direction. Another sec officer was right behind the janitor. The other three officers were back in the armory, donning riot gear and grabbing energy guns. These three were the only truly competent ones, of course. Chris Intrench, the mechanic, was also rushing toward the failed invasion scene, hoping to steal an imperial weapon to research, reverse-engineer, and "improve".
Clear on the other side of the station, an imperial shuttle docked at Arrivals. Eight fully-armed ARC troopers exited the shuttle. The mime, briefly glimpsing the the eight through the airlock, went rushing off toward the bridge. The mime stopped at the sight of a security borg. He put his hands together and imitated a shuttle flying through space. Then he stood upright and fired an imaginary gun. He then pointed frantically back at Arrivals. The security borg, having finally found the Mime (one of the station's most wanted persons, aside from, of course, the Clown), promptly stun-batoned the Mime, cuffed him, and began dragging him toward Security.
There was, in all, very little hope of repelling the eight ARC troopers. A single assistant bravely tried to bash an ARC trooper's head in with a toolbox. It ended poorly for the assistant, who, it turned out, was rather unrobust.
~o~0~o~
Captain Chris Donut eyed the latest fizzing Pan-Galactic Gargleblaster warily, like it might escape at any moment. The successive layers of alcohol in the drink swirled back and forth, like something rather horrible that was supposed to be happening somewhere important.
"Attention, you capitalist pigs. Fascists have boarded the station. They are approaching Security. I have electrified the Security doors," Commie-Bot 9000 announced.
"Wha--aatt w-aa-ss thaaaaat?" Chris slurred. "Issh nooo-ttt unn-mmmportant."
Captain Chris Donut eyed the latest fizzing Pan-Galactic Gargleblaster warily. Something dire was bothering him.
The station emitted three high-pitched dings.
"PRIORITY ANNOUNCEMENT. This is the HoS, Vladimir Rein. All security forces, please repel invaders at Security."
A small wave of assistants collided outside the bar, some rushing toward Security, eager to either raid the armory or join the fight. Others were rushing away from certain death.
The Captain stood up and rifled through his backpack for a small gray device - the handheld station teleporter. He pressed some buttons, and appeared in the bridge.
"TRAITORS IN ARRIVALS! THEY'VE GOT ENERGY G-Argh!"
Chris stared at the bridge consoles. Why was he here? There was something important.
"Clear Arrivals! I'm teleporting a bomb there!" the telescientist said. A few seconds later, a bomb exploded harmlessly in space near arrivals.
[i]"Did I get them?"
"No, you fuck! It exploded in space! Learn to use the teleporter!"
Ah, yes. The station was imploding. Time to do the thing he was here for. The Captain pressed a button at the Communications console.
[Call Emergency Shuttle?]
>[Yes]
[State Reason.]
>[Station's Fucked, Time to Go Home]
[...]
[Server Out of Range.]
That was weird. These things were supposed to be able to reach Central Command from anywhere.
"Officer down! Officer down! AI, send all security borgs to assist in Security!"
"Security borgs re-routed from Arrivals. I hope this teaches you filthy Capitalists a lesson in careful phrasing."
Oh, well. Maybe he could nuke the station. Of course! Chris went into his quarters, opened his personal locker by swiping his ID, and grabbed his emergency Atomic Bomb. He took a sip. Damn, he was smart for hiding such a complex drink here.
"Okay, I'm gonna try again," the telescientist said.
The captain stared uncomprehendingly at the small switch behind his Atomic Bomb-stashing-place. What'd that do, again? Was that his emergency teleport switch? He flipped it. A console popped up from the floor behind him. He logged in.
"It's recharging," the telescientist said.
The console menu said "Bluespace Drive". Weird name for a teleport.
[Select Coordinates]
>[Last Known Bluespace Drive Event]
[Activate Bluespace Drive?]
>[Yes]
The entire station disappeared in a bright flash, leaving behind a series of electric sparks. Seconds later, it reappeared outside the system, very near the battlestar Columbia. The system had determined that the Columbia's FTL drive was the nearest thing to a Bluespace Drive event. As it appeared, telescience managed to detonate their bomb near Arrivals. A sizeable chunk of the hallway outside of the Bridge and Security was destroyed, now venting into space. Five ARC troopers went tumbling into the void with it.
Okay, I've escaped from the evil clutches of KSP. I'm also writing a post. So there.
I'm still here. Just utterly distracted by this new Kerbal Space Program update.
I didn't-- we didn't have to-- okay!
Edit: Hey, it says I need access. So I requested it.
I'm going to be a bit distracted by this new Kerbal Space Program update. Just to warn you guys.
Edit: Hey, it says I need access. So I requested it.
I'm going to be a bit distracted by this new Kerbal Space Program update. Just to warn you guys.
Hey, I never said you had to come. I never even said you even had to send your head of state rather than a throwaway redshirt"official representative" character. The thing's not even ready to be fully opened yet, so it'll be a couple weeks. Maybe a month or two. And expect Jonsson to quit as head merc in my next post, TheEvanCat.
Anyway, Rare, how's this Googledoc for a collab?
Anyway, Rare, how's this Googledoc for a collab?
I loved my internal rationale for my weapons firing and damage:
"Mmm. It would be more hilarious if Jason pressed all the red buttons, so I guess I'm firing everything. No, wait, I probably shouldn't fire a quantum rocket. Okay, that's on another console. Hold on, what the heck do these weapons do again? [...] Oh, maybe I shouldn't fire the pulse catapults. Wait, better idea: they miss! Brilliant. [...] I want to fire weapons again. But I can't just keep firing everything, right? Well, Fred hasn't been on screen for a while, I guess that means there's some engineering problem. Ooh! Weapons overload! And that way my ship actually has damage, too! And I can incapacitate Jason to give Alexander time to grow as a character! Marvelous! [...] I should fire my weapons aga- wait, shoot. I overloaded them. Damnit. Maybe I can get someone to fire a rocket somehow? Alexander, do you know how your console works? No, you're just being a sarcastic know-it-all. Hmm. Well, guess I'm running away again."
"Mmm. It would be more hilarious if Jason pressed all the red buttons, so I guess I'm firing everything. No, wait, I probably shouldn't fire a quantum rocket. Okay, that's on another console. Hold on, what the heck do these weapons do again? [...] Oh, maybe I shouldn't fire the pulse catapults. Wait, better idea: they miss! Brilliant. [...] I want to fire weapons again. But I can't just keep firing everything, right? Well, Fred hasn't been on screen for a while, I guess that means there's some engineering problem. Ooh! Weapons overload! And that way my ship actually has damage, too! And I can incapacitate Jason to give Alexander time to grow as a character! Marvelous! [...] I should fire my weapons aga- wait, shoot. I overloaded them. Damnit. Maybe I can get someone to fire a rocket somehow? Alexander, do you know how your console works? No, you're just being a sarcastic know-it-all. Hmm. Well, guess I'm running away again."
© 2007-2024