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The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut
I felt that the capitalistic society we thrive in demanded direct competition for the Forum Bar and Grill! No longer is there a virtual restaurant monopoly. Now we've got another great hang out where everybody knows your name and loves the same great Space Empires IV chat.
Lemme pour you a glass. And be sure to try the special: Fried Won-Ton Violence |
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Do you have EEE on a stick? IF you no have EEE on a stick than I'm going to the other joing. I hear they sell phong dogs.
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A rather large, round, segmented object is thrown through one of the windows, shattering glass in a deadly spray. Several loud 'ticking' sounds are heard, then the objects explodes, sending shrapnel everywhere...
Party streamers. |
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The current menu:
Phong Dogs Fried Cryslonite Twinkies Fruit Salad EEE shakes EEE on a stick for AT, and a cajun seasoned variation. French Fries (cooked in Toltayan Summer Oil for reduced trans-fat content) I'm taking suggestions for other dishes, and my head chef is working on newer choices as we speak. Now I need a wait staff... Narf? AT? I pay 10/hr plus gratuity. And I give back rubs to females. And phongs in thongs. |
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I won't even approach this place unless I can have my special: Xiati kebobs, marinated, and served with a habenero pepper sauce.
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Nah, I think I'll just throw in random combustables.
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Renegade, done. I'll produce an updated menu as people bring me favorites.
What about drinks, guys? Let's get intergalactic here. |
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Are the FBW's at this new place cuter than the ones at the old place?
Are there any FBW's here at all? Well, I like the name of this new place. I'll come back with my samurai sword and ninja weapons, just in case a fight breaks out. |
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OOC: If a fight breaks out, a certain mouse will be here as fast as the NSN Murpy's Law will putter.
BTW, are there any nearby stellar objects I should be aware of when I park my planetoid? |
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We have beautiful, exotic, real live breathing women (yes, "they" are unimaginably immense), and for the rowdier, computer enthralled crowd there are femme-bots.
Maybe tomorrow morning I'll give you a written description of the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut. I'll give you a tid-bit: Wrap-around bar with a fish-tank full of tropical, sub-tropical, and alien salt water fish. Complete with miniature treasure chest and gravel. Of course, the entire design is supported by grav fields so it floats. |
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Star Death Drinks:
White Dwarf: Non-Alcholic, perfectly harmless; served cold. Otherwise known as water. Nova: A bright, spiced yellow drink, small but powerful. Served hot. Super Nova: A much bigger, bright, yellow drink, very alcholic. Served boiling. Neutron Star: It's possible to remember starting and finishing this drink on the same day... but only just. Served cold. Attracts iron filings. Black Hole: A black drink so named because the sheer amount of alchol ensures that nobody remembers finishing one if they take anything less than a day at it. Thermometers dissolve before a proper serving temperature can be taken. Galactic Core: A very oversized Black Hole. |
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All drink requests are honored at the Won-Ton, friends! Any concoction is capable of being produced by our experienced bartending staff (Bud and Nancy)!
New menu item: Sub-Space Jello! In lime, cherry, peach, and strawberry. If you talk into it, others eating Sub-Space Jello can hear you! The true intergalactic cup n' string! We also have live music every night, slide shows and a planetarium on Tuesdays, dancing in the rumba room nightly, and the multidimensional mathematics playground for people wanting to talk to their counterparts on other planes of existence. This is only the beginning of the entertainment. The Won-Ton aims to please -Rudy Huxtable, Cosby Kid, Proprietor |
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The stranger all dressed in long flowing black cape and large dark rimmed and tinted glasses, walks into this new establishment. He appears to be looking for a table in the cornor, finding none he proceeds to lower his aging anatamy onto a bar stool. he calls over the waiter and orders some scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, rye toast and a brewski,he then lounges back and proceeds to make notations on a stange looking pad with all kinds of blinking lights and flashing storbes. no rose bushes, no FBW, no Tribble wings.... and he contninues to write http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif
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I wonder who else here has studied the Physics of Won-Ton burrito meals http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...es/biggrin.gif
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I started to, but the equations are very long and I just lose interest.
Basically, Won-Ton burritos are heavy, and fattening. And here at the Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut, they're multidimensional, and come with a side of Pepto. |
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I'm still trying to figure out "Fruit Salad". http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/image...s/confused.gif
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Apples, oranges, tomato's, generally some lettuce, stuff like that. Slice it all up and toss it together.
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Hey I just checked out your bathroom. WHO SAID THE METHAIN BREATHERS COULD USE IT? That is just OMG sickening MAN!
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Deep Fried Krill?
General Vaughn Chicken? more as they come to me |
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Menu Additions:
Feel the Force Galaxy gasser chilli OMG - Make way - Barium Barrieto (sp) WTF Did I Just Eat - Baby Gagers Sudden Bathroom Alarm - Greesy Something (Tastes like chicken - don't ask) |
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EEE McNuggets
Crispy Xi'Chung (a normal specimen shot and served on a plate - the exoskeleton is what makes it crispy) Jraenar Steaks (you don't want to know the amount of steak you can obtain from a single Jraenar) Cheese (just watch out not to bite the Narf if you find it attached to your piece of cheese in a consuming manner) |
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These are the type of threads that keep me coming her everyday http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/laugh.gif
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Me2 I'm here every day without exception. I always spend several hours a day on the forums.
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Praetorian Burritos (look like piles of bull crap from a bull with severe indigestion, smells even worse, but tastes wonderfully - a guaranteed bathroom hit!)
Praetorian Fries (Nothing beats a fries Praetorian... the only reason they're not utterly destroyed because of their ugliness) Xiati Bread (just watch out for two things - the Mushuns Sporacy that you might find on the bread, and anything the Xiati have put into it, they're known to make excellent poisons) |
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Sergetti Soup with Meatballs (the sewage dumped by Sergetti ships with fried EEE floating in it)
Jraenar Stuffed with Deep-Fried EEE (the reason they're deep fried is because they're fired from APB weapons, then picked up by a fighter http://forum.shrapnelgames.com/images/smilies/happy.gif ) Excerpt from the promo flyer: "Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut... an Evil Genocidal Ruler's Favorite!" |
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Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you the updated Won-Ton Menu!
"Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut... an Evil Genocidal Ruler's Favorite!" The house special: Fried Won-Ton Violence Favorite Dishes: Sergetti Soup with Meatballs Jraenar Stuffed with Deep-Fried EEE Praetorian Burritos Praetorian Fries Xiati Bread Deep Fried Krill General Vaughn Chicken EEE Nuggets (for copyright reasons, they aren't McNuggets, but they're made the same way) Crispy Xi'Chung Jraenar Steak CHEESE Feel the Force Galaxy gasser chili OMG - Make way - Barium Burrito WTF Did I Just Eat - Baby Gagers Sudden Bathroom Alarm - Greesy Something Whoop-*** (small whoopings or monster beatings available) Won-Ton Burritos, with a side of Pepto Sub-Space Jello (choice of flavors) Phong Dogs Fried Cryslonite Twinkies Fruit Salad EEE shakes EEE on a stick for AT, and a cajun seasoned variation. French Fries (cooked in Toltayan Summer Oil for reduced trans-fat content) Drinks: Coca-Cola Dr. Pepper Sprite Coffee tEEE (get it? GET IT?!) Orange Juice (not from oranges. It's just orange for some reason) Alcoholic Beverages: White Dwarf Nova Super Nova Neutron Star Black Hole Galactic Core |
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You need terrans on the menu...
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They are on the as yet incomplete Dessert Menu
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Dessert:
Siberian Ice-Creams (frozen Terrans) Btw, I thought this joint was terrans-only... since all other races get served up fresh here... so why so you want terrans on the menu? I mean, they're pretty much tasteless... like a side of Praetorian chicken steak |
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I'm freely donating two dozen and one (25) heads of Phongs to serve as table legs.
Do you know you could fashion an entire set of kitchen implements from the corpse of just a single Krill? (btw, what are FBWs?) New drink: the Spatial Rift Drink it and when it kicks in you'll think the explosion just knocked you into another dimension.... NEVER drink more than one per year or you'll die of severe indigiestion. |
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Rushes in the Violence Take-Out Hut, panting from the run he just made Beware! Something truly horrible is bound to happen! Something so bad I cannot even think of it, lest I should be overcome by an inescapable feeling of dread and despair! Few mortals can keep their sanity after the very mention of the Doom this place is to witness. Beware!
The message delivered, Alneyan goes back to the shady corner of the hut, orders the One True Drink, and waits for *their* arrival. A most exquisite spectacle it shall be. No doubt of it! Let's see if my "Knowledge of the Denizens of the Cantina" serves me well. FBW is likely to mean something like "Beautiful Women", as it is a hallmark of their bartenders, along with "being willing at all times". Odd place this Cantina is. Truly odd. Alternatively, it could just mean "Fantastic Bar Waitress", or something of the like. But their characteristics remain the same regardless of what FBW actually means. |
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1 Attachment(s)
After much effort, the following information was obtained. Make good use of it! (Please consult the file attached to this data file to access our intelligence report)
The answer to the question is indeed yes, I do have too much time on my hands this evening. |
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The owner and patrons of the Won Ton are enjoying their cosmic cuisine and comic banter when the faux-Chinese muzak being played over the loudspeakers is rudely interrupted.
“Hey. Hey! What are you doing here?” a disembodied voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “This is a private studio! You must leav… AUUUGH! [THUNK]” A pregnant silence permeates from the speakers for a few seconds. Suddenly, another song bursts forth from the ceiling. A strangely familiar one. Right on cue, General Woundwort and Raging Deadstar step through the door, followed by a mass of pinstripe-suited goombahs, torpedoes, and goodfellas, many of them carrying oddly-shaped violin cases. A phalanx of Furio clones follows Woundwort and RD as they walk up to the main counter. “Greetings, Mr. Huxtable. We are the duly designated representatives of Growltigger Enterprises, the sole owner and titleholder of entertainment establishments on these forums. You have opened a restaurant on Mr. Growltigger’s turf, without prior authorization or contractual agreement. We doubt very much that he will be pleased with this. Therefore, we are here to offer you… an arrangement.” Woundwort pauses to light a Padron Anniversario cigar, then continues. “You are cordially invited (with full guarantee of amnesty and safe passage, of course) to come to the Forum Chat Bar and Grill, and negotiate a franchise agreement with Mr. Deadstar and myself. If, when Mr. Growltigger returns, we can offer him proof of your good intentions (and a generous cut of the profits), he may be less inclined to cut off your head, set fire to your body, and feed the charred remains to the Pak’ma’ra. I can guarantee you that you’ll find Deadstar and I much easier to deal with than the Boss.” Woundwort places a data crystal on the counter, which upon later examination is found to contain rather graphic footage of Growltigger’s ‘hostile takeover’ of a prior competitor (rated ‘T’ for Teen). “Hopefully that will convince you. Consider our offer well, and don’t take too much time in doing so. If the Great Kat comes back and finds you still doing unauthorized business on his turf… the personal consequences would be most… unfortunate.” “Good day to you. We expect to see you soon.” Woundwort and RD tip the rims of their fedoras in Rudy’s direction, and depart the Take Out Hut. The hordes of capos follow them out. The Sopranos theme song fades away, and the original disc jockey’s voice is heard again (somewhat less chipper, and in obvious need of some ibuprofen)… “We now… groan…return you to our regularly scheduled muzak…” |
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Ooh, is there going to be a fight? It's been so long since I had someone to play with...
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Wow, I like the excellent selection of dishes here at this establishment. Some rare and exquisite delicacies from across the galaxy... hey, you even have Cryslonite Twinkies, my favorite! But each time I bite those things, I end up getting an expensive dental bill!
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OK... but how pneumatic are they (the FBWs)?
(Pneumatic as in the year 649 After Ford. Those who know what I'm talking about will know what I'm talking about.) |
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Hmmmm…….Could a patron perhaps order something special? Let’s say a hearty side order of Revenge ala Khan? That would be served cold if you recall.
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Agent Zero strolls in the door, looks around nonchalantly and shudders.
"Ick! It's all so... trendy! And why is there a Praetorian on the barby! Yick!" With that, the Won Ton begins to shake violently, and a blinding white light begins shining from above. Strangely, outside, the windows are all black, and terrible shapes can be seen moving within the inky shadows. Soon, they grow close enough for their hellish howling to be heard, and the patrons scramble to hide vainley under the tables. "Wait! Stop! I haven't decided yet!" At the utterence of the word stop, the light vanishes, the darkness recedes and the heinous minions outside melt away to nothing. Agent Zero stands in the doorway, staring at his hands. "By all that his holy," he whispers, looking up. "Did I just unleash the combined destructive force of both Heaven AND Hell?" The look of sheer terror on the faces of the patrons is all the answer he needs. He wanders over to the bar. "Um, I'm going to need a Galactic Core after that one. And barkeep, make it a double." |
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Just as AZ starts on his Galactic Core, a couple of GT's maffioso goons enter the bar armed with - of all available weapons, Ground Cannons, small Torpedoes, small Incinerator beams, small Shield depleters - tommyguns.
The frontmost goon (apparently the leader, as he appears to have an IQ that is actually HIGHER than zero) opens his mouth to say something and is subsequently splattered all over the take-out hut, ruining the Praetorian nicely simmering on the BBQ. The other goons open up with their trenchbrooms firing randomly into the street outside, ruining a perfectly good building in which someone was just opening a new restaurant. (Darnit! And that just after the last payment!) A screaming noise fills the air as a massive shape comes careening right at the bar from high up in the air. The immense fighter opens up with at least several dozen small Meson Blasters and splatters the rest of the goons all over the street. Then it disappears to a COMCA in orbit. StrategiaInUltima enters the take-out. "Sorry 'bout the mess. Ordered the pilot to take 'em out any means necessary. One tEEE please, Phong blend." |
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Agent Zero plucks a bit of small intestine out of his Galactic Core and drops it on the bar.
"Of all the hairbrained, suicidal, pointless- GAHHH! I feel an Apocalypse coming on!!!" Demonic shadow rear out of the floorboards and begin spreading on across the Hut. Still immaterial, they begin slowly to solidify pacing about the place as they eagerly wait to become coporeal so they may wreak bloody vengeance upon all they come across. One of the largest demons eyes Strategia hungrily. Fortunately, the barkeep quickly plops a replacement Galactic Core, gratis, in front of Zero. "Ooo! Freebie!" The shadows slowly recede to whence they came. |
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Weaving through the destruction outside, a courier bot hovers into the Take-out Hut and drops a package onto the counter.
It smells. Bad. Really bad. The reason it smells bad is because it contains a rather large - and rather dead - fish. The fish is wrapped in a bulletproof vest, and (even more strange) has a rolled-up copy of the user's guide to MOO3 stuffed in its mouth (obviously, that is what killed it). Tacked to the fish is a hand-scrawled note. MR. HUXTABLE - TIME IS RUNNING OUT... |
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AZ: "Of all the freaking threats in the Universe... why oh WHY DID HE HAVE TO BRING MOO3 INTO THIS?!?!?" Shadows enter the place even quicker than before. This time, they're all adorned with MOO3 memorabilia - user's manuals in hands, claws, tentacles, whatnots, copies sticking out of backpacks, vest pockets, sacks to for invertebrates to carry slung around anything, and - worst of all - T-Shirts with MOO3 print... in full color. The same demon eyes Strategia hungrily. He pulls out a weapon and annihilates the demon in a flash of cauterized proto-photons. An even larger one takes its place. He ponders his mistake.
AZ does not seem to notice all of this, still staring wide-eyed at the manual in the fish's mouth. Meanwhile, all the other patrons stare terrified - mortified - at the very embodiment of Hell on Sol III. The bartender (still need to find someone for that, though - we can't keep referring to him/her/it as "the bartender".) quickly offers one of the more vicious-looking demons a Galactic Core, and this seems to pacify them. "A new super-weapon," mutters a lesser demon in awe as it steps/sloshes out of the take-out on its three feet and sixty-odd tentacles. Strategia really begins to worry, as he's been referring to himself in the third person too often lately. He thinks he should make an appointment with the psychiatrist soon. Perhaps one of the new [%PsychicRaceName] psycho-neuro-pathologic-paranoid schizophrenics that have recently been spotted in the streets of the psycho district. |
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A commotion is heard amongst the demons outside. The patrons look out the window, and see a rather pale man walking towards the bar. There's a 15-ft radius around him completely free of demons. The reason soon becomes clear as he continues to apporach the bar - any demon that enters that radius immediately dies; some drop, some blow away in a puff of smoke, some simply fade out, but none remain. When he gets to the door, he doesn't bother opening it - he simply continues to walk right on through, and passes through the door without damaging it. Once inside, people notice something else - he's slightly transparent. He then blinks, takes on a more solid appearence, and orders a white dwarf at the bar. He doesn't quite get why so many people start to crowd him.....
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Agent Zero looks over and the recent arrival and grins rather lopsidedly (as one would expect from someone who's ingested two Galactic Cores in the last few hours). A large crowd has gathered around Jack Smith, ostensibly due to the fact that demons do not seem fond of his aura. However, no one seems to have noticed the Archangel Gabriel standing by Jack's shoulder. Zero chuckles quietly.
"Silly rabbit, Tricks are for kids- I mean, Fools! I've got both sides doing as I say!" WHAM! Bodies go flying everywhere, and Jack Smith sails clear across the Won Ton, ricochets off the Sallega tank and smacks into the Praetorian grill with a sickening crunch. Strategia races to Jack's side and begins waving smelling salts in front of his nose. Meanwhile, Agent Zero leaps to his feat and glares angrily at Gabriel, who stares abashedly at his angelic feet. "DO! WHAT! I! SAY! DID I SAY DO THAT! WHAT I SAY! WHAT- Hold on, I gotta wizz." Hours pass.... "-I! SAY! Now go to your room and think about what you did!" Gabriel obediantly rises towards the heavens. Zero stumbles over to Jack, holds up three fingers and asks Jack how many he sees. "Eight," comes the immediate reply. Zero studies his hand for a few moment. "Correct. Now. I'm gonna have another wizz, then I'm going back to the Bar & Grill for a while. Too loud in here. And turn down those lights!" As he departs, a cold shiver runs through the Won Ton patrons, for they are all thinking the same thing. Soon... In a matter of hours, the man who controls the powers of both celestial light and darkness... Is going to have a hangover. |
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I, Rudy Huxtable, proprietor and owner of the The Intergalactic Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut, am proud to announce the addition of a Pool Room (including 400 tables of both Terran pool and 4D Xiati pool).
We will also four different atmosphere rooms in the coming weeks. Our resident Hydrogen breathers can... "breathe easy!"... GET IT?!... knowing they'll have a room of their own in the Hut. Methane lovers will be able to sit in their own stinky chamber and chat about the scores of the 708th Cross Galaxy Rugby tournament! I'd also like you to meet our ever sexy and incredibly talented wait staff: Mindy (hot, Terran) Cindy (hot, Terran) Darlene (hot, Terran) Marlene (hot, Terran) GRGLECK (hot for a Xi-Chung) Brick (a stunning Phong, doesn't approve of some of the Phong dishes, however) and Hank, the bartender (not hot, Terran) Also, investors welcome to help outfit the arcade room! Sincerely, Rudy Huxtable Proprietor The Won-Ton Violence Take-Out Hut |
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