The Return to Liten (Game Over)


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SaintKerrigan
SaintKerrigan
Brings Out The Flavour
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SaintKerrigan
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The Return to Liten (Game Over)

Post Post #0 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:33 pm

Post by SaintKerrigan »

The Return to Liten


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Moderator: SaintKerrigan

Backup Moderator: Haylen

Reviewed by: bv310

Spoiler: The Living
AlmasterGM, Pal Bixton,
Human SOB Operative
, survives and wins the game, as do the rest of the Humans.
Furry, Leslie "Furry" Hampton,
Human Colonist
, survives and wins the game, as do the rest of the Humans.


* = prod[/b]

Spoiler: The Dead
7,369 Litens,
Human Colonists
, were massacred in the pregame.

Square Obscure, Ellen Abalyski,
Arkon Doctor
, was sniped by Chuck Norris on Day 1.

Nikanor, Jack Anorr,
Human Medic
, had his brains scrambled on Night 1.
danakillsu, Arthur Williams,
Human Medic
, was shot with a laser rifle on Night 1.
Feysal, Geordi Moss,
Arkon Infiltrator
, had his shit seriously fucked up on Day 2.

SpyreX, Travis Knull,
Human Scout
, had his brains scrambled on Night 2.
Untrod Tripod, Simona Sanchez,
Human SOB Operative
, was blown to pieces by a land mine on Night 2.

Twomz, Wesley Hudson,
Human SOB Operative
, was reluctantly executed on Day 3.

LynchMePls, Mac "Psycho" O'Leary,
Human SOB Operative
, had his brains scrambled on Night 3.
apathyplusCUPCAKES, Ingrid Cortega,
Human Neighbor
, had a grenade stuffed in her pack on Night 3.

HackerHuck, Marsha "Black Cat" Thompson,
Arkon Roleblocker
, was killed in action on Day 4.

ThAdmiral, Jezebel "Jezzy" Bahha,
Human Vigilante
, was put out of her misery on Night 4.

Thor665, Joshua Gordon,
Human Colonist
, was shot on a whim on Day 5.

Cogito Ergo Sum, Dylan Richards,
Human Neighbor
, had his brains scrambled on Night 5.

chesskid3, Chuck Norris,
Human SOB Operative
, was owned by a laser on Day 6.

camn, Bill Guy,
Human SOB Operative
, was stealthkilled on Night 6.

MagnaofIllusion, Evelyn "Kestrel" Falconi,
Arkon Infiltrator
, was melted, incinerated, and otherwise obliterated on Day 7.


Preceding Game Flavor

(The Prequel) Open 209: The Invasion of Liten

Spoiler: Opening Scene 1
SS
Davy Maybourne

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System
November 26th, 2486 Space Calendar
0233 hours Standard Space Time


The graveyard shift was always a bitch. Ensign Sammy Weiss wearily rubbed her eyes and took another swig of coffee.
Another six hours to go...
Distractedly she eyed the steel-gray mug in her hand, studying the symbol of spacefleet printed on it's side: a crimson laser pistol on top of a white circle, which was encircled by a pair of curved, green olive branches. The colors intrigued her dazed eyes...

A shrill beep emitted from her computer console. Setting the coffee mug down, she looked at the holographic display and saw the pop-up the earlier sound had announced. It read, "Incoming Interstellar Transmission. Priority Alpha-1 Red. Source: Rebel Planet Liten, Tynnfred System."

She raised her eyebrow. Alpha-1 Red transmissions were high-danger red-alerts, on par with planetary invasions. On top of that, it was coming from a rebel planet. Something was going on, here.

"Bertha, answer transmission," she ordered the AID (Artificial Intelligence Design) on her computer terminal. "And flag the transmission for Communications Officer Vivaldi."

"Complying," Bertha's low, smooth voice replied. A black rectangle took up the majority of the holodisplay's visual area and began showing video feed.

Immediately Sammy was startled by the sound of laser rifles firing in the background. A woman, clad in a faux-tiger fur coat in addition to a simple gray jumpsuit, was standing in front of the camera on the other end of the transmission, panting heavily. Behind her, five militia were brandishing laser rifles and facing something to the left of the screen. A door, perhaps? And then there was no time left to wonder as the woman gasped,

"This is Leslie Hampton, Governor of Liten. We're being invaded by the Arkons, and we lack the resources to fight them off. We request immediate aid from Spacefleet."

"Governor Hampton, this is Ensign Weiss of the SS
Davy Maybourne
," Sammy replied. "You are currently considered a rebellious state to the Union of Terran Planets. As such, you may not request--"

"Damn it, then, consider this a surrender!" Hampton shouted. "This pains me, but not as much as getting wiped out by the bloody Arkons!"

"If you're surrendering, I'll need to relay this transmission to our station admiral--" At this point Bertha automatically began to hail Admiral Washiby-- "--as only an admiral can accept--"

"There's not enough time!"

Behind the governor, the militants held their rifles at the ready. One of them said, "Get ready, men."

Hampton sighed and keyed something into her terminal. "I'm transmitting the data we have on an object of alien origin," she stated. "We think it's the reason the Arkons invaded in the first place. We didn't have enough time to figure out what it was, but we know it's damned important!"

On Sammy's screen, a pop-up appeared announcing, "Incoming Data Packet. Priority Alpha-1." She told Bertha to accept the data packet. "The Admiral has been notified, and should be responding shortly, Governor."

"Just get here soon," Leslie growled, "or there won't be anything left to save!"

Suddenly, a large yellow laser shot across the room in the background. One of the militants cried, "They've gotten through!" He and the others opened fire with red laser bursts.

"Shit!" Hampton screeched. "We've got the files uploaded. Just get the hell--"

Suddenly, the display returned to black. A pop-up appeared, reading, "Signal Lost."

"Bertha, attempt to reestablish contact with that transmitter," Sammy ordered, fighting the fingers of ice tap-dancing on her spine.

"Complying."

Two more video boxes, smaller than the first one, appeared on Sammy's display. The right-side box displayed a black-haired man in his thirties--Communications Officer Vivaldi--and the left-hand box displayed an older man with graying wisps of hair and icicle-blue eyes. Station Admiral Washiby.

"Yes, sirs?" Sammy inquired tentatively. "Did you guys get all that?"

"Indeed," Vivaldi replied in a rich, tenor voice.

"Did you get the entire data packet?" Washiby asked.

"Oh, um, yes sir." Sammy ordered Bertha to open the data packet. Immediately a plethora of files appeared on the holodisplay, with a small summary box on the side. Inside the summary box were two things: a picture of an egg-shaped, ebony-black object with a ring of turquoise light running around the widest diameter, and written text that read,

"Unknown Alien Artifact. Discovered: Day 25, Month 13. Dimensions: 0.28m at shortest diameter, 0.81m at longest diameter. Distinctive Properties: Emits a blue light and a quiet hum of 26 decibels. Preliminary scans indicate energy of some form, but will require more extensive tests to be conclusive. --Dr. Joshua Gordon, Lead Scientist"

"I'll get our science team working on this data immediately," Admiral Washiby stated. "Have you been able to reestablish contact with Liten, Ensign?"

"Negative, sir. The transmitter probably got fried."

"Keep trying, anyway. Officer Vivaldi, alert the Admiralty Board of our situation and request a conference transmission to discuss how we're going to respond to this event. Afterward, order Commodore Kerry to recall his crew from shoreleave and report for duty within the next 24 space hours."

"Yes, sir!" Vivaldi and Sammy replied simultaneously.

"Good. Admiral Washiby out."

Spoiler: Opening Scene 2
SS
Davy Maybourne

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System

November 26th, 2486 Space Calendar

0412 hours SST


Admiral Washiby sat on a comfortable, yet stiff black chair, in a tiny low-lit room. In front of him was an opaque, circular, black holotable, and encircling the table were 14 plain, sparse chairs, in addition to Washiby's. Holographic figures were seated in most of these chairs; five were male, eight were female. One chair, however, was devoid of an occupant.

"Has any news been heard on the whereabouts of Admiral Dawkins?" Washiby inquired. "This is a situation of utmost importance, and though I feel the entirety of the Admiralty Board should be available to discuss the implications of the event at hand, we cannot afford to wait any longer."

"I concur," agreed Admiral Gradkowski, an auburn-haired woman in her early forties. Murmurs of assent trickled from the rest of the admiralty. Gazes shifted toward a white-haired, steel-eyed woman in her late fifties, her face bearing the stretched, shiny look of people who underwent wrinkle surgery. "What say you, Supreme Admiral?"

"Very well," the Supreme Admiral responded. "We shall convene this meeting without the presence of Admiral Dawkins. Should he make his entrance at a later time, he shall have to catch up via an AID summary. Now, Admiral Washiby, elucidate us on what has transpired that called for a full meeting of the board."

Reading from a condensed, AID-written summary projected in front of him, Washiby recounted the events of a couple hours ago, having them refer to the data packet he sent them when necessary. In his conclusion, Washiby stated, "Until now, we have not been able to discern a proper motive for an Arkon invasion beyond speculation of manifest destiny and causation of chaos. Now, however, they seem to have a specific objective to their invasion of the planet Liten. It would be in our best interests to retake the planet from the Arkonian forces and deny them whatever it is they're after."

"Hold on," protested Admiral Yakamoto, an aging Japanese man. "This is merely speculation on your part. There is no concrete evidence to support your position. Even if your supposition is true, our forces are spread thinly enough as it is. There are more productive things to do with our armadas than retake a fringe colony that up til now has been in a state of rebellion."

"But Liten is on the border of UTP space!" Admiral Lynch protested, her emerald eyes smoldering with fire. "They could effectively utilize it as a staging ground for a full-scale invasion of the 8th and 9th Sectors! We should deal with this situation now before it grows out of hand!"

"And what do you expect us to do?" growled Admiral Kearns, plucking at his gray mustache. "The 5th, 6th, and 12th Sectors are already war-torn and suffering heavy Arkon occupation. Many of our fleets have already been culled from other systems to defend the systems currently bordering Arkon-occupied territory. The
Davy Maybourne
already has a significant fighting force in the 89th Fleet. They should be able to handle any light Arkon incursion, and if the situation worsens they can get off the alert."

"Do you have no concern for our border worlds?" Lynch seethed. "These are
our
people, dammit!"

"We do not have the resources to protect every single world!" Kearns insisted. "You know that as well as I do! It's a terrible fact, but there it is."

"You just have no concern because it's not
your
people that are going to die!"

"Order!" All eyes focused on the Supreme Admiral. "We all know how precarious the Arkon situation is, and we all know that ugly decisions must be made. Please keep the emotional aspect out of your consideration.

Suddenly, a notice flashed in front of Admiral Washiby, stating, "Alpha-1 Intrastation message incoming." Lines of text began scrawling across the holodisplay. His eyes widened as he read.

"Admiral Washiby, what's happening?" inquired the Supreme Admiral.

"I'm receiving a summary from my science team." Slumping into his chair in exhaustion, he continued, "According to the Liten data, that object is capable of generating high amounts of power, with no physical cost. In other words, the device is a source of infinite energy."

Stares of shocked silence could be found in abundance at that point in time. "This...this isn't a joke, right?" Admiral Yakamoto queried.

Admiral Washiby shook his head. "My scientists seem certain about this."

"But isn't limitless energy...impossible?" protested Admiral Gradkowski weakly.

Admiral Kombu an elderly, balding black man, stated, "This changes things entirely. If that device is a source of infinite energy, not only can we ill-afford to allow the Arkons to possess it, it would be to our great advantage to secure this device for our own needs. This could advance our technology by tenfold, and indeed may be the key to fending off the Arkon menace."

"But even if this device is what it claims it is, we can't just divert our forces from their current locations," Kearns objected. "We're having a hell of a time holding our own as it is."

"Does it matter?" Lynch insisted. "If we can replicate this infinite energy source, we'll have the Arkons beat. Plus, we sure as hell can't allow the Arkons to get their hands on it."

"Then we'll send an SOB team," interjected the Supreme Admiral. "I know of a team in close proximity to the Medici system, but they currently lack a stealth frigate. Admiral Washiby, I believe you mentioned that you had a frigate being readied in the event of a go situation?"

"Aye," Washiby replied. "The frigate isn't stealth, but with the right equipment we can make one out of her. The captain is experienced, and quite honestly I was close to recommending him to the Special Operations Branch myself. Just get the team and the equipment to the
Maybourne
, and you'll have your ship."

"Excellent. Does anyone have an objection?" Silence was the answer. "Excellent. I shall get the SOB team and the necessary stealth equipment to the
Davy Maybourne
as quickly as possible. Admiral Washiby, ensure that this commodore of yours is briefed properly on his new assignment, and get him the necessary clearances. Everyone else, prepare for the possibility of redistribution of forces, should it become necessary.

"This meeting of the Admiralty Board is adjourned!"

Spoiler: Opening Scene 3
SS
Davy Maybourne

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System
November 26th, 2486 Space Calendar
1726 SST


Commodore James Kerry sat quietly on a chair comprised of Programmable Matter (known colloquially as progmatter). This particular progmatter was running a program that caused it to change color based on the color clothing worn by it's occupant; since Kerry sported the customary black uniform worn by military space personnel, the chair chose to color itself crimson, with various shading techniques and hue variations to suggest a leather texture. On the opposing side of the waiting room, a pretty young man sat behind a holodesk, his brown eyes intently focused on the third-meter tall holoscreen, although the side of the hologram facing Kerry was opaque, thus preventing him from observing what exactly the secretary was doing. On Kerry's left was the door that led to Admiral Washiby's office; to the right was the door that led back to the rest of the
Davy Maybourne
's Command and Control center.

Kerry looked at his omniwatch and sighed mentally. Considering that he and his crew were supposed to be enjoying well-earned rest and relaxation at the moment, if Spacefleet felt like canceling the down time and recalling him and his crew, the least they could do was not keep him waiting patiently in a chair for over twenty minutes, especially when the holomag reader was burned out. His hand ran through his jet-black hair. Then there was the unexplained change in clearance level this morning--

The C&C-side door soundlessly slid open, and Admiral Washiby trotted in, decelerating to a halt in front of Kerry, who immediately rose to his feet and braced for a salute; at the same time, the progmatter chair reverted to its normal pale gray color. "At ease, Commodore Kerry. I just got back from an important meeting that ran slightly over time. Please, follow me. We have much to discuss."

Admiral Washiby stepped toward his office door; the sensors recognized the admiral's presence and opened the doors, allowing him to walk on through. Kerry firmly strode in just behind him. The admiral beckoned Kerry toward a progmatter chair as he himself moved behind the holodesk and took the seat on the other side. Quietly, the office doors sealed shut.

"So what's this about, Admiral?" Kerry inquired. "I'm presuming it's important."

Admiral Washiby nodded. "I know you and your crew were cherishing your R and R, but we've happened upon a perilous situation that, if resolved correctly, could result in a key advantage over the Arkons in the war. Since you're the best commodore we've got around these parts, the task of completing this mission falls to you."

"I see." Kerry leaned back into his chair, which reshaped itself to accommodate the new posture. "So, what's the mission, sir?"

Reaching into a pants pocket, the admiral extracted a data-chip and held it for Kerry to see. "The in-depth particulars are detailed in this data chip. Allow me to summarize your mission: The rebel fringe colony of Liten, out in Tynnfred, is being invaded by Arkon forces, and they have requested our aid in exchange for their surrender. Based on data they've sent to us, we believe that the Litens are in possession of a device of unknown origin, termed the Infinity Generator, and that this device is capable of producing an infinite amount of energy. It is imperative that we recover the Infinity Generator and prevent it from falling into Arkon hands. Unfortunately, we can't spare any fleets toward the recapture of Liten, so the decision is to send an SOB team to infiltrate Liten, recover the device, and bring it back to Terran space."

"Sounds nice, sir. Since I'm not a member of the Special Operations Branch, I don't see where I fit into all this."

"I was just getting to that part. As it happens, the closest SOB can be here within the next forty-eight hours. What they lack, however, is a stealth frigate to bring them to Liten. The nearest stealth frigate won't be able to arrive quickly enough to suit our timetable, so we've upgraded your security clearance and given you and your crew temporary reassignment to the Secret Operations Branch. Stealth equipment for your battle frigate will arrive with the S.O.B. team, and as soon as we can have the equipment installed on your frigate, you will leave for the Tynnfred system.

"Commodore, I cannot stress the importance of this mission enough. As of now, we're not winning this war. Procurement of the Infinity Generator may give us the crucial advantage we need to defeat the Arkon menace. Failure is absolutely not an option. Do I make myself clear?"

Tersely Kerry nodded. "Yes, sir. Perfectly clear."

"Good." Admiral Washiby held the data-chip out, and Kerry took it and placed it in his own pants pocket. "I suggest you familiarize yourself with the information on that data-chip quickly," he added. "Time is of the essence. You're dismissed, Commodore."

Kerry rapidly rose, saluted, and strode out of the admiral's office. As he traipsed down the myriad corridors leading to the space station's shuttle bay, he pondered on how the hell he was going to brief the crew on these changes in events...

Spoiler: Opening Scene 4
Dropship
Apollyon

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System
November 28th, 2486 Space Calendar
1628 hours SST


Captain Sara Gaints felt a queasiness in the pit of her stomach. It was that damned space sickness acting up on her again. On larger spacecraft, such as capital ships and space station, there was artificial gravity, so the nausea wasn't an issue; in tiny tin cans like this dropship, however, there wasn't room for a gravity generator, and thus her ear fluids continually threw themselves out of whack. At least there were barf bags onboard for this sort of contingency; having to contend with globules of vomit floating around in nullo was far from the most pleasant experience in the universe.

It didn't help ease the wooziness besetting her, though.

Suddenly, a male voice announced, "Major Sedarski, we're on final approach with the SBF
Deborah
. We've been granted permission to dock, and the commodore will meet you in the hangar bay. Estimated time to dock: fifty seconds."

"Thank you, Jordy." Strapped into the seat across from Sara, Major Sedarski stretched out her legs. "Maybe we'll finally find out just what the hell's going on, eh, Sara?"

"Maybe we will, sir." Sara replied hesitantly. The need to suppress the urge to vomit was rapidly usurping her mental concentration.

"Please, Sara, you can call me Margaret whenever we're not around the brass. I know you're a new addition to the Megiddos and the Special Operations Branch, but one thing you'll need to pick up on very quickly is knowing when to be formal, and when to let things slide. There a ton of shit out here that SOB's have to deal with, and if you don't maintain good morale, even the strongest of wills can break under the strain. You--" Without warning, the bright, red "Entering Gravity Field" sign began flashing, accompanied by obnoxiously loud klaxons.

"Got it, Sara?" the major asked again.

"Yes, sir." Sedarski's stare could've melted ultrasteel. "I mean, Margaret."

"Good."

Suddenly, Sara plunged downward into her seat, and her nausea used that disruption in concentration to attempt a violent expulsion of putrid particles. Sara barely managed to stymie the puke in her throat and force it back into the bowels of her stomach. Now the yellow "Landing" sign flashed, and Sara grasped the handles protruding from the wall behind her. She braced her self, awaiting the inevitable jolt that all landings had in common...

"We've landed, Major," Jordy announced. "Debark at your convenience."

We've touched down already? Damn, that's one--


"Hell of a pilot, ain't he?" Margaret winked as she unfastened the safety restraints. "C'mon, let's get out of this tin can. I'll head out and meet the commodore. You make sure everyone gets off and takes their gear with them."

"Will do, sir--Margaret."

A smile traipsed Margaret's lips. "We'll make a fine Megiddo out of you yet." With those words, the major pushed herself onto her feet, ambulated to the rear of the dropship, and punched a large, black-striped red button. The door-ramp lowered itself outward and downward, revealing an ultrasteel-plated, massive room waiting outside. Sara watched as Major Sedarski strode down the ramp; then she finished extracting herself from her seat and stood up, along with the other twenty-two SOBs on the dropship.

"You know the drill, boys and girls, now get your asses moving!" Sara barked.

Spoiler: Opening Scene 5
SBF
Deborah

High Orbit, UTP Planet Massotorrido, Medici System
November 28th, 2486 Space Calendar
1855 hours SST


Sara lay on the narrow bunk, eyes staring vacantly into the ceiling. The Meggidos were being quartered in the station that normally belonged to the
Deborah
's shipboard marine squad. Since the marines had also been ordered to help the Meggidos store the equipment they'd brought with them, quite a few harsh words had been exchanged.
Hopefully we won't have to be on this ship together for long...


A high-pitched beep, hitting B-flat 7, jarred Sara from her thoughts. "Enter," she called. The door refused to open.
Oh, right. It's a time-delay door.


A few seconds later, the door slid back, and Major Sedarski strode into Sara's quarters. Immediately Sara bolted to her feet and jabbed her hand up to her forehead in salute.

"Please, Sara, relax," the major groaned. "I've just been shitting brass out of my ass for the past few hours, and I don't need any more of that crap today."

Sara abashedly lowered her arm to her side. "Sorry, Major--"

"Did you forget my name already, Sara?"

"I mean Margaret, sorry--"

"And for Darwin's sake, stop apologizing already! There's a reason it's called a cliche. Aside from that, apologies used in excess simply negate any authority you exert over your subordinates."

"Sorry--" Sara sighed. "Yes, Margaret."

Margaret smiled. "See, you're learning. It's not a hopeless cause. Now, why don't we sit down?"

Indicating the nearby desk, Sara said, "The chair's over there--"

"I mean on that lousy excuse for a bed, silly."

Tentatively Sara seated herself, while the major came over and plopped down to her right. "You're not big on protocol, are you?" Sara inquired.

"You're observant." Margaret leaned back against the wall, hands behind her head and legs stretched out and crossed. "There's two reasons why I'm here. First, I'm giving you early notice of what our mission is going to be so you have time to adjust before we present it to the rest of the team tomorrow."

"What's the second thing?"

"I'll get to that soon enough. Sara, I'm not gonna lie to you: we've got a hell of a mission on our hands, here. It's easily the most difficult mission I've undertaken, in all my years with the SOB." Margaret took in a deep breath. "We're going to the planet Liten, out in Tynnfred. It was formerly a rebel planet, but the Arkons recently invaded, and given Intel's estimate of Liten's defensive capability, the planet is most likely under alien control by now."

Margaret paused, looking intently at Sara. "Um..."
She wants me to engage her...right?
"If this planet was in rebellion and the Arkons are taking it over, why are we going there?"

With a nod, Margaret replied, "Exactly. Why are we jumping into another shithole when we can't get out of the ones we're already in? Well, it turns out that just before the Arkon invasion, the scientists on Liten found an alien artifact, something
non
-Arkon. When the Arkons invaded the planet, the governor surrendered to the UTP and transmitted the data they'd gathered on the artifact. Intel thinks that this device is capable of producing an infinite source of energy."

Limitless energy...
"That's not possible! At least if I understand anything at all about the sciences..."

"I know. It goes against all the laws of physics, and then some, but supposedly the data is irrevocable. Needless to say, an infinite power source is not only something we can't afford to let the Arkons have, but it could very likely be the key to us winning the war. So we're being sent to Liten to retrieve it."

"Dear god..." Sara's mind felt almost numb. "It's a suicide mission."

Margaret sat up and put her left arm around Sara's shoulders. "Yes, it is. Like I said, it's the worst mission I've ever seen. But the Meggidos have toughed it through other suicide missions before and won, and I'm confident that we'll be victorious this time, as well."

Sara looked into Margaret's eyes. "Do you really believe that?"

"Does it matter? I
have
to believe it. It's the only chance we have of not getting killed. You're a smart woman, Sara. But forget the odds, the likelihoods, the chances. Trump it with absolute conviction. It's one of the most important lessons you'll need to learn as an SOB operative. If you don't pick it up fast, the troops'll revile you for it. Understand?"

Sara bobbed her head. "I know. It's just...I've never lacked courage, my record shows that--"

"Relax. Everyone's allowed to be afraid, hon. Just don't let it go to your head. Speaking of which, that's the other thing I wanted to show you."

"What"

Margaret smiled. "Relaxation techniques." She edged closer to Sara, who tensely leaned away.

"What are you doing, Margaret?" Sara asked.

Using her arm to pull Sara against her body, Margaret replied, "Sara, when you're an SOB, you have to find ways to cope with the hell that comes as a part of your job. When's the last time you've made love to someone?"

"Um...ah..." Sara blushed. "I've never done it with a woman before."

"How about a guy?"

Sara shook her head. "Major, this is against protocol!"

"And you already know how much I respect protocol. Besides, when it comes to SOBs, the brass is nice enough to be lenient on matters like these." She rubbed Sara's left breast, just above the heart. "You can feel the tension, can't you? Pent up emotion, crammed in there like clothes in an overstuffed suitcase. You gotta get it out somehow, Sara. And what better vehicle than passionate love?"

Margaret's rubbing extended from the breast to the entire torso area, and inside her Sara felt something melting. "I-I don't think this is appropriate..."

Ceasing her massage, Margaret reached up, gently pressed Sara's left cheek, and turned her head so that they gazed into each others' eyes. "Do you really mean that?"

Smoldering, emerald green eyes reflected Sara's timid, sapphire blue eyes.
I shouldn't...this only leads to trouble...
Even as those thoughts coursed her mind, she felt something else consuming her mind. A feeling she'd kept suppressed for her entire life, crying out for release. She wanted it so much, yet it was not only against protocol, but against her personality, her sensibility, her rational thought...

Argh, the hell with it!


She looked into Margaret's eyes once again. This time, they reflected back passionate sapphire blues. "No, I don't," she said quietly, but determinedly.

Margaret leaned in close. "Perfect," she whispered.

Her lips brushed Sara's warmly. Stiffly she began to lean into the kiss, but suddenly Margaret stopped.

She put a finger to Sara's lips. "This is lovemaking, girl, not a briefing. Here, let's try that again..."

She crushed her lips on Sara's and squeezed their bodies together tightly. Surprised, Sara gasped. Then she threw her arms around Margaret's shoulders and pushed back passionately. Together, they collapsed onto the narrow cot.

* * *

November 29th, 2486 Space Calendar
1257 hours SST


Commodore Kerry leaned forward in the commodore's chair. "Engineering, is the stealth equipment functioning properly?" he inquired.

"Aye, sir," the chief engineer replied. "It's a clean marriage."

"And the rest of our systems are operational?"

"Aye, we are at full capability."

"I guess it's time to get this operation out of drydock, then. Comm, open a channel with Admiral Washiby. Display on the viewscreen."

"Yes, sir," replied the communications officer. She manipulated a few holobuttons above her station. "The admiral's standing by, Commodore. Putting him on visual."

Kerry stared forward. On the bridge's viewscreen, an image of Admiral Washiby, sitting in his office, appeared. "Ah, Commodore Kerry," he greeted. "Have you called to tell me that you're ready for departure?"

"Yes, sir," Kerry replied. "With your approval, we'll be underway at once."

"You have my approval, Commodore. Godspeed, and God be with you."

"Thank you, sir. God help us all."

"Indeed. Admiral Washiby out."

The admiral's image vanished, restoring the view from Forward Camera One: black, starry space on the left side of the screen, the planet Massotorrido on the right side.

"Helmsman, take us out of orbit to minimum safe hypertunnel distance," Kerry ordered. "Navigator, plot a course to the Tynnfred system. Put us on the outer fringe."

The
Deborah
rumbled slightly as she accelerated out of planetary orbit. "Comm, put me on internal ship broadcasting. Audio only."

"Yes sir. You are now live all across the ship."

Kerry sat up straight, squaring his shoulders resolutely. "Attention, all personnel. This is the commodore speaking. By now, you have all been informed of the nature of our operation, and as such, you know exactly how dangerous our task is going to be. It may seem overwhelming, even impossible to accomplish."

* * *

Sara stopped in the middle of the corridor to listen to Commodore Kerry's speech. Others around her did as well.

"However, we have on the
Deborah
the best of the best in all of Spacefleet," Commodore Kerry continued. "Crew, we have entered lost causes time and time again, and we have always proved victorious."

"Hell, yeah!" an ensign hollered.

"And as for our guests, they are one of the most successful SOB squads in UTP history, though their accomplishments often aren't shown due to the secrecy necessary for their work."

Sara nodded silently in agreement.

"Together, we form a powerful team, one that will go into this hellhole called Liten, retrieve the alien artifact, and bring it back for the glory of the human race! The
only
things we'll let the Arkons have are the taste of defeat and, if required, the shots from our laser rifles! We will not--no, we
can
not--do anything less.

* * *

"You know what we can do, people. Make your commodore proud."

Kerry nodded to the communications officer, and she deactivated the internal broadcast. "Well spoken, sir," she complimented. The rest of the bridge crew nodded in assent.

"Commodore, we've reached minimum hypertunnel distance," the helmsman notified.

"I have a course plotted for the Tynnfred system as well, sir," added the navigational officer. "Shall I engage?"

Leaning back into his seat, Kerry raised his right hand, extended the second and third fingers, and let his arm fall forward, pointing the two fingers at the viewscreen. "Do it."

"Yessir." The navigational officer pushed a holobutton, and a low-pitched blare began to drone throughout the ship. "Engaging Torr Drive on my mark. Five...four...three...two...one...

"Mark."

* * *

1300 hours SST


For a moment, the
Deborah
was still there. Suddenly, the front end of the ship disappeared, and before a second had passed, the frigate was nowhere to be found.

* * *

"Hypertunnel entry successful," the navigator reported. "We're en route to the Tynnfred system."

"Excellent." Kerry stared emptily at the ceiling. "I'll be in my quarters. Number One, you have the bridge."

"Yes, sir," replied the first officer.

Silently Kerry stood up from the commodore's chair and ambulated thoughtfully off the bridge.
God help us all, indeed...

Spoiler: Opening Scene 6
SBF
Deborah

Hypertunnel Transit (Medici to Tynnfred)
November 30th, 2486 Space Calendar
0755 hours SST


Sara sat at the end of one of the long tables in the
Deborah
's mess hall, staring idly at her half-emptied tray of spaghetti and popcorn shrimp, with a glass of blue Voojoo on the side. She knew that accepting the invitation to the Special Operations Branch would mean more difficult assignments, but invading an Arkon-controlled planet to search for a nanoscopic needle in a macroscopic haystack--it was the perfect definition of "suicide mission". And here she was, with her inexperience in covert operations, expected to flawlessly take command should something happen to Margaret.
What if I can't do it? What if...what if I fail?


Someone set a tray on the table, across from her. Looking up, Sara saw Zanado, one of the SOBs, sit down, staring at her with dark brown eyes.

"You look lost in thought," he remarked. "Nervous about the upcoming mission?"

"A bit," Sara admitted, "but I've got it under control."

Zanado nodded. "That's good. If you don't, survival of the fittest will pare you away soon enough."

That was a bit...cold.
"You're with the Church of Darwin, right?" she inquired.

"Only as far as government regulation go." He took his fork and played with his buttered garlic mashed potatoes. "It's a common misnomer that Darwinism is a religion, really. The government only makes us classify ourselves within that tired framework because we lack enough incontrovertible evidence that our findings are true."

"Isn't that what a religion is, though? A collection of beliefs?"

"No, you misunderstand me. Science accurately predicts what happened; we just have to go find the proof. Alas, but the nature of macroscopic spaces precludes easy and rapid discovery of the evidence. It's only a matter of time, fortunately."

"But it's been, what, four or five hundred years. Surely--"

"If this is the standard by which you measure credibility, then we are hardly the only ones to fall short of your preconceptions of validity. Take the religion of our fellow comrade, Wesley. His god has had millennia to convince humanity that he exists, and yet where is he? And don't even get me started on Islam or Hinduism--"

Someone cleared their throat next to Sara, and she turned and looked up. One of the
Deborah
's marines stared back at her. "You're the second for the SOBs, right?" the marine inquired.

Sara nodded. "I am."

"Good. Please go muzzle your dogs before they cause an...incident."

The marine pointed at the other end of the mess hall. Looking in that direction, Sara saw Pal, Psycho, Kestrel, and Black Cat at a table with six marines. Suddenly, Pal slammed the table and yelled,

"And what the fuck do you know about dangerous, huh? They don't even
expect
us to come back alive when we go out on a mission, that's how bad our missions are..."

Quietly Sara ambled toward the cluster of people. Her mind raced like a particle of light through space.
This is a chance to show what you've got, Sara. Don't screw this up. You've handled worse situations, you'll get through this one.
By the time she reached the table of arguing people, she felt confident--or so she told herself.

"Can it, all of you!" she barked.

They ignored her and continued their diatribes.

"I said can it!" she yelled, and everyone stopped, turning to stare at her.

"You sons of bitches have quite the ego, don't you?" one of the male marines said to her. His namebadge read "Willard".

"It's not ego if you've earned it!" Pal retorted.

Sara held up her hand. "Calm down. What's going on here?"

"Those assholes think it's easy being a Meggido," Kestrel replied.

"So we, of course, had to set the record straight," Pal added.

Psycho nodded in agreement.

"I wasn't involved in any of this," Black Cat said. She picked up her vibration knife, the blade specked with bits of some kind of sticky juice--peach, if Sara interpreted the pits on Black Cat's plate correctly. "If you don't mind, Judith and I are going to retire before this becomes a shitfight," she added.

One of the other marines laughed. "They even let crazies like you in? Why don't you talk to my dick instead? It's just as lifeless, and much more enter--"

"Fuck off!" Pal yelled, leaping across the table and tackling the marine. "You wanna know how tough we are?" He slugged the marine in the face.

"Stop it!" Sara hollered, but Pal ignored her, walloping the marine incessantly.

"Get off of him, you bastard!" Willard shouted, seizing Pal by the shoulders and yanking him backwards, slamming his head on the floor. "You don't fuck with the marines and get away with it!"

"Just watch us!" Psycho proclaimed, jumping across the table onto Willard. A brawl quickly formed, in spite of Sara's vehement protests. Blood began dotting the floor of the mess hall, as well as the uniform of the combatants.

Sara stood outside of the melee, her mind frozen in indecision.
There's too many for me to break up on my own, but I can't let them continue like this...


Suddenly, one of the marines began screaming widly with pain, falling to the floor and writhing around. In seconds the other nine combatants followed suit. Sara stared at the scene, unsure of what was going on...

"What the hell is this?" Margaret yelled.

Looking in her direction, Sara saw the major standing a few tables away, with a laser pistol in hand.
Of course...the stun ray...
She fingered her own laser pistol.
How did I forget about that...


"Sara, what happened, here?" Margaret demanded to know.

Sara briefly explained the situation to her. Margaret nodded and input something onto her wristcom.

"Security, this is Major Sedarski. I've got ten people in the mess hall that need to be brought to the brig. Four SOBs, six marines. The SOBs get four hours; you can do as you see fit with your people."

She lowered her wrist and holstered her pistol. "Let's go, Sara. We need to go over the battle plans."

Sara nodded and followed Margaret out of the mess hall.
You failed, Sara. You can't afford to fail...
Last edited by SaintKerrigan on Sun Jan 30, 2011 3:26 pm, edited 42 times in total.
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Post Post #1 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:34 pm

Post by SaintKerrigan »

SBF
Deborah

Outspace, Tynnfred System
November 30th, 2486 Space Calendar
2341 hours SST


It was just a random patch of space; the only thing that was visible was Tynnfred's orange-red star, at this distance about the size of a rounded red grape. Without warning, the bow section of a starship appeared from the middle of nowhere, and less than a second later, the Spacefleet Battle Frigate
Deborah
was throught the hypertunnel and drifting amicably.

"Commodore, we have just entered the Tynnfred System," the navigator announced. "We're in Outspace, just as you ordered."

"Excellent work," Kerry responded. He looked behind him. "Engineering, are the stealth systems up and running?"

"Aye, sir. As long as we keep quiet, the Arkons'll never know we're here."

Well, wait until we try to send our team down there.
"Good. Helmsman, set a course for the planet Liten, at maximum stealth speed."

"Yessir." The
Deborah
rumbled slightly as she turned to follow the plotted course.

"Comm, contact Major Sedarski and tell her to prep her team. They launch in thirty minutes."

* * *


Beedeep! beedeep! Beedeep! beedeep!


Margaret's hands froze in the middle of undoing Sara's bra strap. "Aw, shit," she groaned. "I thought we'd have another half hour at least."

"Is it the prep alert?" Sara asked softly.

"Yeah, probably. One sec, hon."

She gave Sara a light peck before pulling away and walking over to the desk to pick up her wristcom. Since Sara couldn't hear what the caller was saying due to sound redirection, she contented herself with idly studying the supple flesh on Margaret's back and half-listening to her side of the conversation.

"Sedarski here." Pause. "Half an hour?" Pause. "Yes sir, we'll be ready. Sedarski out."

She put down the wristcom and picked up her bra, which happened to also be lying on the desk. "Yep, that was the prep alert," she stated. "We've got half an hour before launch, so we've gotta get moving."

"Too bad." Sara sighed wistfully. "I'd put on the lilac perfume, too."

"Damn, that
is
a shame. But there'll be time when we get back." Margaret finished fastening up the bra, pulled off her uniform pants, and strode over to her wardrobe. Sorting through the various apparel within, she found her black and grey combat uniform and began putting it on.

"I...guess I'll get into my fatigues, then," Sarah mumbled, reluctantly tearing her eyes from Margaret's sumptuous form to grab her own shirt, lying on the floor. In silence the two women finished dressing.

Just before Sara turned to leave, she paused. "Margaret, in case I don't get the chance...thank you."

"Not yet," Margaret cautioned. "Thank me when we get back. When you can truly show it."

Sara smiled. "You taking the Alpha bunks or Beta?"

"I'll rouse Alpha." She blew Sara an airy kiss. "See you on the shuttle, hon."

* * *


Dropship
Apollyon

Low Orbit, UTP Planet Liten, Tynnfred System
December 1st, 2486 Space Calendar
0010 hours SST


"Hey, wake up!"

Sara shook her head, startled. "I wasn't asleep, Jezzy."

"Ah, so you were daydreaming about Major Aphrodite again." Strapped into the seat to Sara's right, Jezzy was third into the Meggido chain of command. If her behavior was any indication, she resented it, too. "You better get your head in the game, or it ain't the major you're gonna be dreaming about."

"I'm perfectly fine," Sara insisted, in as neutral a tone as possible.

"Then you better prove it," Jezzy countered. "Because if you don't know what you're doing, either the Arkons are gonna roast your ass, or we will. Take a guess at which one's worse."

"All right, Jezebel, knock it off!" Margaret growled.

Jezzy shrugged her shoulders. "Just breaking in the rookie, ma'am. The one you made second in command."

"Cut it, operative!"

Jezzy fell silent. Turning to stare down the interior of the dropship, Margaret said, "You're all here? C'mon, we can do better than twenty-nine minutes, and you know it! Maybe I will have to run the drills more than minimum regulation."

She went to her seat, across from Sara, and strapped herself in. "For those of you that haven't done a hot-drop before, be sure to hang on tight. It
will
rough."

"Major Sedarski, we've been cleared by the commodore for launch," Jordy's voice spoke over the speakers. "He wishes us Godspeed."

"Thank you, Jordy--"

"What, no God remark, Wesley?" Pal cut in. "Thought you would've been all over that."

"Shut up, jackwad," snapped Martin Kowden. "We don't need more bitchin' from you than is necessary--"

"Can it, the both of you!" Margaret hollered. "Jordy, go ahead and launch."

"Aye, Major. Lifting off on my mark. Five...four...three...two...one...mark."

The
Apollyon
shuddered as it rose off the floor of the hangar bay. In front of them, the hangar doors were opened just enough to allow the dropship to carefully squirt out and into space. Below them, the planet Liten awaited.

"Going in for hot-drop," Jordy reported. "ETA to planet surface: twenty seconds."

Twenty seconds?
"Isn't one minute the minimum--"

Without warning, someone dropped a skyscraper on Sara's left side, and she cried out.

"Ha!" Jezzy hollered. "Told ya she'd do it, Kestrel!"

"Aw, fuck you. I'll pay you when we get back."

The
Apollyon
continued to shoot through the Liten atmosphere, the stealth technology suppressing the bright glow from the heat friction. Sara's teeth rattled uncontrollably, and she figuratively prayed that they wouldn't get too close to her tongue. The intense pressure on her left side was almost unbearable, but after hearing Jezzy's remark, Sara did her damned best to keep from crying out again. Around her, a good number of her comrades were whooping and hollering like madmen.

Suddenly, the pressure dissipated, and Sara let out a huge sigh. Now that she'd survived it, the adrenaline rush had actually been kinda fun...

"Major Sedarski, we've landed on Liten, in the drop zone. Debark when ready."

I didn't notice it again?


Margaret threw off her safety restraints. "C'mon, folks, you know the drill, get your asses out, move move move!"
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Post Post #2 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:43 pm

Post by SaintKerrigan »

SaintKerrigan's Mafia Ruleset


Article I: Day


1. The game is a day start.
2. Day shall last two weeks.
3. Scum may use their quicktopic during the day as well as night.
4. During the day, you may place votes on a person using this format:
Vote: Player-X.

4a. Unvotes are not required, but are very helpful.
5. When a player receives more than half of the total votes at any point during the day, that player is lynched.
6. Once a player is lynched, twilight begins.
7. If the deadline has passed and no one has received more than half the total votes, no one will be lynched.
8. If a player has not posted within 72 hours, they will be prodded.
8a. Failure to reply to the prod in thread (or by PM during the night) in 24 hours will result in replacement of that player.
8b. If a player has been prodded three times and is due for another prod, they will be automatically replaced.
8c. If a player continually skirts the prodding threshold with insubstantial antiprod posts, they may be prodded anyway at the mod's discretion. These prods count toward the three-prod threshold mentioned in Article I, Section 8b.
8d. If a player has been absent long enough to be replaced, but has yet to be prodded, the 24-hour safety window will automatically be waived.

Article II: Twilight


1. Votes and unvotes will not be counted during twilight.
2. The lynchee may continue to talk during this time, as well as any other living player.
3. Once the lynch scene has been posted, the mod will lock the thread and night will commence.

Article III: Night


1. Night will last 72 hours.
2. During the night, scum may communicate using their provided QuickTopic.
3. During the night, any roles or factions with night abilities may choose to use them by PM-ing the mod (see the Role PM for role-specific instructions).
3a. If the role or faction chooses not to submit an action, a PM to the mod stating such is preferred.
4. Once the deadline for night has passed, all actions not received will count as a No Action.

Article IV: Capital Offenses


1. Do not quote your Role PM (with one exception: the Arkons may quote their Role PMs in their designated quicktopic).
2. Do not use invisible text, codes, cryptography, etc.
3. If you have the power to edit your posts, don't.
4. Do not insult other players personally.
5. Do not test the mod by experimenting to see what he considers a personal insult.
6.
Dark Red
is the mod's color. Don't use it.
7. Do not talk about ongoing games.
8. Do not quote any QuickTopics you may have access to, unless the mod has given you permission.
9. If any of these offenses in Article IV are committed, the first action taken will be a warning against the player.
10. Any further offenses committed will result in either a sterner warning, forced replacement, or a modkill, to be determined at the mod's discretion.
11. Modkill means you are removed from the game and autolossed.

Article V: Miscellaneous


1. The mod has the final say on any issue.
1a. However, the mod can make mistakes. If he does, please point them out either in a PM or in thread.
2. If something is missing from this ruleset, do not exploit the loophole. Instead, point it out to the mod so it can be corrected. Taking advantage of a loophole will result in a modkill.
3. If you need any help, or have questions, or just want to talk in general, feel free to PM the mod.
3a. This does not mean the mod is obligated to answer any of your questions.
4. In some games, dead people can talk. For the most part, this doesn't happen to be one of them.
5. The mod reserves the right to edit this ruleset as he deems necessary.
6. Flavor is simply flavor. Speculate about it at your own peril.

Article VI: Flavor


1. All players have "flavor names" that represent them in flavor scenes.
2. For the purposes of this game, the term "Vanilla Townie" is replaced by either of the words "SOB Operative" and "Colonist", depending on whether the player character is an SOB Operative or a Colonist in terms of flavor. Regardless, both terms are the same thing as "Vanilla Townie".
3. "Town" is represented as "Human" in this game, as "Mafia" is represented as "Arkon". This is for flavor purposes only; you do not have to adopt this nomenclature if you don't want to.
3a. If any alignments other than those two appear in the game, the ruleset will be updated to reflect what name they are represented by.
4. In the flavor, the term "lynch" will be replaced by other names for terminating someone's life. However, votes made using terms other than that described in Article I will not be counted.

Article VII: The Most Important Rule of All


1. Remember, this is a game. Don't forget to have fun!

SAMPLE TOWN ROLE PM


Flavor goes here.

Game Name:
bv310
Flavor Name:
Buttcheeks McFarty
Flavor Gender:
Male
Flavor Age:
14
Flavor Role:
Role Model
Game Role:
Colonist
Role Description:
[character-specific flavor goes here], you're just a normal human being, with no special powers conferred onto you.
Alignment:
Human

Win Condition:
You win when all Arkon players have been eliminated.
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Post Post #3 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:44 pm

Post by apathyplusCUPCAKES »

HAI
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Post Post #4 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:45 pm

Post by SaintKerrigan »

Role PMs going out shortly...

Also, you're free to post. It's the least I can do after making you guys wait this long.
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Post Post #5 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:51 pm

Post by Slaxx »

HAHA 1ST
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Post Post #6 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:51 pm

Post by Slaxx »

FFFS
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Post Post #7 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 12:54 pm

Post by Bowser »

Oh boy.

FFFS?

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Post Post #8 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:09 pm

Post by Nobody Special »

Hi.
....what?



Blitz: Picking Simplicity taking pre-ins; PM for info. (0/13)
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Post Post #9 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:11 pm

Post by Feysal »

Looking good. Since this game is clearly heavy on flavor, and we've all got these game names, I'm thinking of getting into flavor myself and actually use those names. Don't be surprised if I suddenly start talking about Chuck Norris - how could I resist?
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Post Post #10 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:13 pm

Post by Slaxx »

Lol!

My win condition is to receive my role PM.

/joke
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Post Post #11 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:14 pm

Post by SaintKerrigan »

All right, all the Role PMs have been sent. Every. Fucking. One. /thankyougodhallelujahfuckinjesus

Since I have spent almost this entire day, as well as last night, writing flavor, I will start the game when I either have sixteen of eighteen confirms, or Friday, October 15, 2010, 10:00 a.m. CST arrives, whichever occurs
LATER!!!


Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some sleep to recuperate.
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Post Post #12 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:33 pm

Post by Furry »

Feysal wrote:Looking good. Since this game is clearly heavy on flavor, and we've all got these game names, I'm thinking of getting into flavor myself and actually use those names. Don't be surprised if I suddenly start talking about Chuck Norris - how could I resist?
This would get too confusing too fast.
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Post Post #13 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:34 pm

Post by Wraith »

Oh dear. AFAIK the hydra account hasn't been activated yet. If you sent the role PM to it, I don't have it yet. Uh, whenever you see this, send it to me ASAP, since I'll be dedicated poster until the account is activated.
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Post Post #14 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:50 pm

Post by danakillsu »

Ohai. Let's get this show on the road.
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Post Post #15 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 1:58 pm

Post by Nikanor »

Hay Furry. Good to see you again. >:]

If I got this role name randomly I will lol. Apparently I'm the brother of my role in the last game. >_>
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Post Post #16 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 2:00 pm

Post by Nobody Special »

::: quickly does black ops research :::
....what?



Blitz: Picking Simplicity taking pre-ins; PM for info. (0/13)
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Post Post #17 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 2:16 pm

Post by MagnaofIllusion »

Greetings to those of you I know ..

Hello, nice to see you to those I don't.

As the Black Eyed Peas sing -

Let's get it started in heeerrreeeeee ...
"I am a leaf on the wind ... watch how I soar!"

Pretty much Geriatric game restricted at this point ... unless there are players I REALLY want to play with.
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Post Post #18 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 3:15 pm

Post by AlmasterGM »

Yo I'm LA till Sunday.

there shall be posts, though.

ps hello to everyone i know.
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Post Post #19 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 3:16 pm

Post by Slaxx »

FURRY :)
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Post Post #20 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 3:30 pm

Post by Thor665 »

Forsooth!
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Twomz
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Joined: November 21, 2005
Location: Texas

Post Post #21 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 3:42 pm

Post by Twomz »

Yo, really heavy flavor and I like it :D.

Let's do this.
"It's not a logical inconsistency. B can't be correct because then C would be, but it doesn't go the other way - there's nothing wrong with C being correct. Aside from Twomz saying otherwise." --Mith
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SpyreX
SpyreX
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SpyreX
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Post Post #22 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 4:43 pm

Post by SpyreX »

Word.
Show
I always lynch scum... sometimes they're just not mafia. :P

Town: (49-47-1)
Scum: (23-11)
Third Party: (2-0)
Proud member of BaM
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Nero Cain
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Nero Cain
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Post Post #23 (ISO) » Thu Oct 14, 2010 4:57 pm

Post by Nero Cain »

hai guys. I'll try not to suck this game.
Of all tyrannies,a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end they do so with the approval of their own conscience.

edited c.s. lewis quote b/c limit
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LimMePls
LimMePls
Mafia Scum
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LimMePls
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Post Post #24 (ISO) » Fri Oct 15, 2010 4:47 am

Post by LimMePls »

Time's up lets do this, LEEEEERRRROOOYYYY JENKINS!
"LynchMePls is more town than all the players I've ever declared to be townies. And that's never going to change." - Drippereth

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