The Galactic Bash Story Thread

[mac5732]

His most Glorious, Illustrious, Magnificent, Highness, Twixle the 4th, stood in front of his window looking out across the capitol. His research department had sent a memo to his office, reminding him of the upcoming test of the new CTW-1 Cruiser that afternoon with the TGP weapon systems.

"AAhh, yes, this new system is revolutionary in concept, something new and deadly," he thought to himself. Our illustrious Imperial fleet would be that much stronger if everything went as planned.
Those races that try to curtail or impeded our Quest shall tremble with fear and their planets shall be ours for the taking.

Nothing shall impede our Quest throughout the Universe, nothing shall stand in our way, he thought as he smiled to himself.

Our Scientific community shall always prevail.., now if they could only design a good cup of Xxtemme instead of this disgusting slop they imported from our planet #3. Yuk, no wonder we are a hairless race, drinking this junk eliminates all types of those hairy growths other races appear to have upon their anatamies. Hmmm, maybe .....
A Knock on his door interrupted his continuous mental faculties, Who the .....

to be continued.....

Taken from the Historical History of the Tka-Chik Empire

[Growltigga]

Growltigga the Great sat in his command chair gripping the arms tightly with his mightily muscled claws - a small itch started at the back of his neck but the great Kat was too tense to take the time to scratch it.

Growltigga the Great yelled orders to his flunkeys and gazed at the starfield shown on his viewscreen - the sight filled his warriors' heart with joy - who could not be inspired by the sight of the 1st Strike Fleet of the Growltigga Alliance arrayed in battle formation and streaking toward its foes?.

As Growltigga watched, he saw the spectral shimmering of force screens being activated and the chiarascuro of drive fields reaching combat readiness. The attack order was sent through the fleet and Growltigga gripped the arms of his seat even tighter, the nagging itch even more irritating.

He watched the Alliance fleet bear in for the kill, already missile launchers were spitting their lethal charges toward the ships of the enemy, small fighter craft were being launched from their catapults and were streaking toward the enemy vessels, already the glorious close assault cruisers of the Growltigga Alliance were closing to point blank range, their heavy shielding shrugging off all fire that the enemy scum could throw at them whilst their heavy beam weaponry sent shifting shafts of shimmering shining fire into the enemy vessels, ripping their hulls asunder and vapourising the ships.

As he watched, the fleet flagship, the GFN Dogbiter closed up to an enemy dreadnought and released boarding sleds - GA space marines used plasma torches to cut through the enemy ship's hull and soon, its stricken crewmen were being merrily disembowelled by the ferocious furry fighting felines of the 3rd Furball Assault Division - Growltigga the Great always wished the enemy would surrender before the marines got involved as shredding your enemies limb from limb and stuffing their heads up their backsides in true tigga tradition was not good for galactic realpolitik and machtpolitik- he would have problems facing the Tcha-chik ambassador after this performance without suffering the overriding urge to stuff the ambassador's head up his rectum - actually, thought Growltigga, that is probably no worse than what the Tcha-Chiks get up to anyhow

Growltiggfa turned back to the battle. It didnt Last long, it never did and the 1st Strike Fleet of the Growltigga Alliance reformed and jetted off to the next victory, nursing over a few dented hull plates and a couple of minor flesh wounds.

Growltigga stretched, scratched the itch and broke wind. "Damn", he thought, "Galaxy Quest is getting better every week"

[ 08 May 2002: Message edited by: Growltigga ]

[ 08 May 2002: Message edited by: Growltigga ]

[tesco samoa]

Memo from the Vassili Society 2420.5

Please note that the previous two announcements are false. It was determined that at the date of 2400.1 to 2400.2 that neither 'EMPIRE' owned any ships let alone a '1st Strike Fleet' nor a 'spectral shimmering of force screen' nor 'arms' upon a so-called 'seat'. The itch itself was a figment of imagination. This so called 'Alliance' animal did not exist.

The 'GFN Dogbiter' was a name taken from a pack of matches found in a dust bin. The 3rd Furball Assault was really a side product from a well cleaned cat.

The only sentance that ringed of any truth was 'it never did'

WEre did we hear this

Why Bad Scripts Gone Wrong Booster Party.

That is all.

Later

[Growltigga]

Internal Note to Neural Nanonics from Growltigga the Great - esteemed and natural leader of the Ferocious Fighting Furry Felines of the Growltigga Alliance.

"Hmm, in addition to sounding like a dodgy bunch of Greek kebab shop owners, the Vassili Society are obviously not terribly bright, and are also lacking even the most rudimentary sense of humour. They should have realised that Growltigga the Great was in fact watching television, upon which television show the glorious 1st Strike Fleet of the Growltigga Alliance was stuffing the heads of yet another bunch of galactic miscreants up their own rectums.

And as for having no starshps by 2400.2, "hmmmm..." thought the Glorious Growltigga, "these boys are slow off the mark"

[Growltigga]

Bloody bump to coin a damned colonial phrase

Come on guys,. the lack ofrole play and general silliness on this thread is appalling

Saxon? whee on earth are you? have you pulled or something?
Gryphin? your wretched thread so get cracking

Tesco and your chum, let be having more out of you you north mancunian reprobate you

Mephisto, surely germany's answer to Britney Spears has sometihing to say?

[Saxon]

Of course I have pulled, what do you think rabbits do with their spare time? Sigh, the truth is that best I have done so far is a blind date tonight and lunch tomorrow with the woman who took the elephant kissing photo.

Great One Buffy, ruler of all the Fluffy Bunnies, was contentedly chewing on a carrot. The carrot was developing a very sharp point and Buffy was developing a very evil grin. The map of the Empire was spread before Buffy and suddenly, the carrot was trust into a neighboring start system.

“There is were we shall prosper!” shouted Buffy. The servants jumped up and down clapping their tiny paws together; the Great One had spoken. The Species would be put on double shift, working 36 hours a day and the great migration would begin. Many would die gloriously in the factories, and even more from lack of sleep, but Buffy’s will would be followed.

Buffy picked up a sprig of parsley and began chewing on it. For days afterwards, the Great One could be heard muttering “I wonder what basil would taste like? I must find some. And perhaps some catnip.”

[Gryphin]

2380,
High Gryphin leaned back in his elevated perch. Made of Rock, carved to fit him perfectly. His eyes scanned the “Highs” seated before him. He read their poorly controlled body language. Something was about to fly.
The thought went through his conscious mine that, “It had better be good, or someone is going to be researching eye color of the blind aggit”
A light snap of his beak and the room went quite. Dispensing with ceremony he addressed the first High on the left.
“Hrrs, Report”
The High Researcher of the Solar System adjusted his feathers and responded in his best monotone voice. Despite his efforts, this body gave away the excitement. “High, We have confirmed there is life on the planet known as Gryphin II. We have reason to believe it is a highly advanced form though we have not confirmed this as of yet. Our ancient computers are now cross-indexing the Mythos of Our Origins, The Great Voyage, and the data from our scopes. It is possible that the Mythos was not a myth after all. We have initiated attempts to translate radio and optical data that is being transmitted directly at us from Gryphin II. We have also begun to transmit greeting from us using several mathematical variations. I believe the Chief of Quadrant Research as similar information on another star system…
“Hqr, Report”, cutting off Hrrs in mid click of a word
“High Gryphin, We have analyzed data coming from another planet n and other star system that is too close to the data from Gryphin II to be a coincidence. Working with Hrrs, we are comparing the data from each source and looking for patterns. We are not alone.” The body language of the Last statement sent shivers around the room.
To hide his own response, High Grphin clicked out, “Hrst Report”!
The High Researcher of Space Travel spoke less excitedly with a slight nervous edge. “The design of the colony ships is near complete. We are still having difficulty with the engines as we will have to be in space to test them. We have an exceptional Researcher working on a simulator but our computers are so out dated. Additional delays on the design of the ships are coming form the various Research Groups claiming we should mimize cost and risk by making the smallest ship possible. Others say, (in particular the Researcher of Population and Society say we must make them as big and fast as we can to relive the stress on our over populated world”.
“Rps, Report”
High Gryphin, Hrst is right, we are getting substantial resistance to building large fast colony ships from conservative parties”, There was no effort to conceal body language that exuded disdain for the Researcher of Safety. I firmly believe we must take our chances and move as many people off planet as possible. Sir the people are happy. They are reproducing like the proverbial Yiffiys from the “The Great Voyage”. We must do something.
High Gryphin’s body language, (bl), communicated, “Do not challenge this decision”! “Large cargo, slow ships”.