What? You want me to set my pants on fire too?
Oh. Ok then.
Pass the petrol someone.
Oh. Ok then.
Pass the petrol someone.
I would Bo. If you asked me too.
Cor. An American commentating on spelling. Showing his true color, a labor of love obviously.
Damn. Forgot to add these again - - - > [Sacasm][/Sacasm]
Damn. Forgot to add these again - - - > [Sacasm][/Sacasm]
The Dod:Source is just want I want when I just want to shoot a gun and throw grenades. The engine is good, the netcode ok and the sounds are just great. Hearing the MG's rattle in the distance is so immersive. It's not a game I would play for hours on but it's good for a quick blat around.
-edit-Enjoy S2 Ghosty. You won't look back. Well, prehaps you should. People don't like being cut up and turned into but you'll soon find your way.
-edit-Enjoy S2 Ghosty. You won't look back. Well, prehaps you should. People don't like being cut up and turned into but you'll soon find your way.
I think this thread has debased itself into a bitching session. A servers rules is a servers rules. No matter if you feel those rules are idiotic, silly or just down right wrong. They are the rules and if you play on somebody's elses server that they pay good money for then you should not be in the least offended if you are asked to leave or booted.
Wan't to run your own dictatorship then invest in your own server and you can govern it how the hell you want. But don't get worked up over something you have no control over. A mature, objective analysis of the bad rules is to be encouraged. A juvanile rant is just that, juvanile.
No point crying over spilt milk.
Prehaps a judiscious thread closing might be in order before this gets completly out of hand. Enough people have been insulted already.
Wan't to run your own dictatorship then invest in your own server and you can govern it how the hell you want. But don't get worked up over something you have no control over. A mature, objective analysis of the bad rules is to be encouraged. A juvanile rant is just that, juvanile.
No point crying over spilt milk.
Prehaps a judiscious thread closing might be in order before this gets completly out of hand. Enough people have been insulted already.
Good choice in the S2 purchase. Don't be afraid of asking advice. thats what we are here for.
I played BF2, DoD:source, LFS S2 (Like, lot's), Yea. I think that's about it. Waiting for a new comp and Enemy Territory:Quake Wars. Thats going to be something special I hope.
I played BF2, DoD:source, LFS S2 (Like, lot's), Yea. I think that's about it. Waiting for a new comp and Enemy Territory:Quake Wars. Thats going to be something special I hope.
I suppose I kinda have a very loose role as some kind of security(ish) at the moment. But the security bit only involves not opening stage door tom anyone I don't recognise (And sometimes to people I do If I'm feeling obtuse) and calling the stage crew (Of which I am one, but all together we feel much bigger and stronger and ready to take over the world) if i get frightened.
Which reminds of the time when I once ran the barricade during the inner-outer conflict of '63 with a hold full of contraband french Red wine vinegar . . . but thats another story.
So. There I was right. Minding my own business, as you do, just landed at the Port of Interplanatory Transport and Commenwealth Humanity (or as she was more affectionatly know, the Big I.T.C.H. On account of what you came away with if you stayed there too long.) and looking to do a spot of grounding. A man adrift in space as a few needs to take care of on his return to land. My usual Earth Stopover was not going to be a possibility this time round on account of some mounting unpaid Dollars for the services rendered by a one Madam Jovinne of 16 Sahara Crescent, Croft Old Town, New Heathrow, Democratic Union of African Equator States, CF45 9PXV42. I know this address so well because it has been indelable emblazoned on my right buttock, rather thoughtfully backwards so I can read it in the mirror, by Madam Jovinne' two older brothers who where both remarkable larger than me. Who had seized upon me, rather unfairly as I was in a post 'business' state, after I had informed Madam Jovinne that I could not pay for her services at this time. At which point I was transfered in a not to gentle fashion to the street outside via the second floor window accompanied by nothing more than a new tatoo to aid in my modesty.
And so thus I found myself looking for a different house of ill repute on the opposite side of town. One recommended to me by my mechanic who was patching up my ship for me. Got a few loose rivets you see, and the reactors pinking. Got a bit of over run, just won't stop, even when I've taken the key out. But anyway, I digress. I found myself and a new venue of garanteed oppurtunity. The glowing Neon Light above the door announceed to anyone that might have passed along this blind, dark and forboding alley that this was Rose's Bar. I went in not expecting much and I wasn't dissapointed. Rose was behind the bar and I hoped to god that she would stay there. She was a big girl. Not fat, you could never call her fat, not even if you where half way to Alpha Centauri could you call her fat because she would hear. And she would find you. No, she wasn't fat but she was big. She had forearms like anvils, you could crack walnuts on her biceps. I know this because she was doing it in front of me and once she finished that the bar creaked as she spread her gigantic hands and leant on it.
"W'oo'ant"
"Er." I'm normally pretty good with women. Look at their eyes not their breasts. Listen to what they say, nod at all the right moments and always comment on their new hair do. But Rose had me stumped. Because, despite all her . . . . . physical attributes (And believe me there where many more than the ones I have mentioned . . . . Oh. I did mention breasts. Ok just a few more than the ones I mentioned) I found myself strangely attracted to her. And I wasn't sure that was a good thing.
"P.P.P.Pinta best please" I stammered out. How the hell was I going to ask this woman if she kept any ladies of alternative employment in the building. It was all I could do to stand my ground and just drink my drink. (As it would transpire I would never have to get around to asking that question and nor would I worry myself further about Rose and my strange attraction, just to allay your fears. In case you where getting worried or something). I sat at the bar as far from Rose as possible. Which seemed to be a common theme as I found myself in a considerable body of men all crowded intot the dark receses of the bar. I nodded a few greetings and rolled my self a cig. It was then that I noticed him. he was watching me from up against the back wall. Shrouded in smoke and looking suitable gaelic under his black beret. He continued to stare, holding my gaze. I broke away to pay acute attention to my ciggerete rolling. I risked a glance and he was still staring. Oh god. I thought, it's one of those places. I'll kill my Mechanic when I see him next. Not one to draw undue attention to myself I supped my drink as fast as politly possible and inhaled my ciggy. It soon came apparent my mistake. As my eyes grew accustomed to the place the abundance of leather, feather and latex became apparent. The body of men around me seemed to be a little too close for comfort. i looked around to see that my Gaelic friend had left his station at the wall and was nowhere to be seen. I began to think that I should follow suit. I am not to proud to say that I scuttled out of there. My head low, Libedo cowed and my buttocks clentched. Don't get me wrong I am all for an individuals life choices and would not dream of taking any personal freedoms away. So long as they don't think that they can liberate me I am cool with everything.
Needless to say I hotfooted it out of Rose's with nary a glance back and slunk away up the alley back to port. It was then that I realised my garlic friend was still around.
"Bonjour" He said, emerging from the shadows.
"Arrggg!!!" I said.
"Zere is no need for panic Monsiour. I am a friend."
"Your not a friend of Madam Jovinne are you?"
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter. What do you want?"
"You are the owner of a cargo tug yes?"
"Might be, who wants to know?"
"Let's just zay we are friends of zer peoples reziztance against the willful Dizzstruction of the ze Vinegar Trade."
"Oh, no Mate. I'm not getting into anything political. I don't do political."
"Not even for 1,000,000 Dollarz!!"
"This is 2342 mate. I couldn't even buy a a cheap citrus fir tree air freshener for my cockpit for that. Try again."
"Ok. Ok. I've been out of ze loop for a while. Name your price."
"For what. you havn't told me what the job is yet"
"We have a consignment of Ze Finest French Red Vine Vinegar that we need to get to Europa-1 in time for Bastille day."
"If I remember correctly the Bush Dynasty Corporation outlawed all things French."
"Ar yes. But ze outer Planets havn't. And as French Ved Vine Viniger can only come from France. Then we must produce it here and get it there".
"But what with the Earth-Mars embargo against all things Europan and vice versa how the hell do you propose we get it there?"
"You just need to get past the Inner Border Patrols. And for zat we have labelled the bottle 'produce of California' ve zink that will fool them."
"You think. Have you done this before?"
"No."
"Right"
"Zo?"
"How much again?"
"How much vould you like?"
"10 to power of 20. In Dollars."
"Znot zat much".
"Ok. 10 to the 19."
"Deal."
"Deal".
And we shook.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Border patrol stopped me just short of the Asteroid belt. They must have seen me shitting myself from low Earth Orbit. The rather fierce Fleet Captain ordered me too pull over and to be prepared to be boarded. And so I was. I would have called them Gorilla's but that would have been an insult to anything Ape like. These guys didn't exsist to think, they existed purely to be a trigger fingure and to listen to the words 'Arrest him' Which they often got confused with the words 'Kill him'. They really couldn't get their heads around 'cease fire!' or 'STOP FIRING!' or 'FOR CHRIST SAKE CEASE FIRE OR I'LL HAVE YOU GUTS FOR A MEDAL RIBBON AND TAKE YOUR MOTHERS OUT TO FOR A RUDDY GOOD SEEING TOO!'. Empathy was not what they where employed for. Their Captain on the other hand was a Captain for good reason. He knew his men where grenades that had pulled their own pins out and where just looking for somewhere to throw themselves but he knew how to interpret orders not just follow them. He ordered his men to search the ship and one of them had come up to the cockpit where me and the Captain where sharing very few words and a number of fruitful silences. The soldier who had come up to the cockpit was carrying a bottle.
"Found this Sir."
"Just this Seargent?".
"No sir. It had quite a few friends sir. Shall I take them into custody Sir?"
"You can't take a bottle into custody Seargent. You confiscate a bottle Seargent."
"Sir. Yes Sir. Shall I Confiscate the cargo Sir!"
The Captain hefted the bottle and read out the label. 'Ze Finest French Ved Vine Vinegar.'" He read further down the label. "Made in California, America. Honest."
By this time I was really getting nervous and I was sure the funny smell that had engulfed the cockpit was me. I had to think quickly . . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
the Captain turned the bottle over in his hands. I thought some more.
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . Ah! . . . No.
The Captain asked his Seargent how many of these bottles where there. The Seargent looked like he would have trouble counting his fingers. "Lots' Sir".
I really needed some sort of plan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .'Damn it'
"What?" Replied the Captain.
"It's coolant. Yes. That's it. My reactor, it's pinking you see. Running a bit hot. You don't know how many things I've tryed but this stuff does it. I've gone through Ketchup, Hard Water, Soft Water, Tap water, Marsian Gin, Mercurial Sulpher Ice. Everything. But this stuff. Amazing. I don't know what those Frenchi . . . . Californian' put in it but it damn keeps my motor cool."
"Show me."
"Hmm. What."
"Show me."
"Show you?"
"Yes. Show. Me."
"Right. yes. Ok then. This way."
I poured a whole crate into coolant before the Captain was satisfied. He wasn't stupid. He must have thought that anyone stupid enough to pour their own contraband into their engine woulldn't be able to get to where they where supposed to be delievering it. He let me go. But not without writing me a ticket for altering my registration with some convieniently placed rivets.
I limped into Europa-1 a day after Bastille day. So with a depleted stock and having missed the very reason that I was running this stuff for in the first place I got a fraction of what I was supposed to be paid. Barely enough to cover the cost of a new Coolant chamber and reactor lining.
And I still havn't got enough money to get laid.
Reminds of the time I fought alongside the Dread Pirate George in the Battle for O'Briens Drift. But that's another story. . . . .
-Edit- Yes. Yes. I know I got the date wrong. So sue me.
So. There I was right. Minding my own business, as you do, just landed at the Port of Interplanatory Transport and Commenwealth Humanity (or as she was more affectionatly know, the Big I.T.C.H. On account of what you came away with if you stayed there too long.) and looking to do a spot of grounding. A man adrift in space as a few needs to take care of on his return to land. My usual Earth Stopover was not going to be a possibility this time round on account of some mounting unpaid Dollars for the services rendered by a one Madam Jovinne of 16 Sahara Crescent, Croft Old Town, New Heathrow, Democratic Union of African Equator States, CF45 9PXV42. I know this address so well because it has been indelable emblazoned on my right buttock, rather thoughtfully backwards so I can read it in the mirror, by Madam Jovinne' two older brothers who where both remarkable larger than me. Who had seized upon me, rather unfairly as I was in a post 'business' state, after I had informed Madam Jovinne that I could not pay for her services at this time. At which point I was transfered in a not to gentle fashion to the street outside via the second floor window accompanied by nothing more than a new tatoo to aid in my modesty.
And so thus I found myself looking for a different house of ill repute on the opposite side of town. One recommended to me by my mechanic who was patching up my ship for me. Got a few loose rivets you see, and the reactors pinking. Got a bit of over run, just won't stop, even when I've taken the key out. But anyway, I digress. I found myself and a new venue of garanteed oppurtunity. The glowing Neon Light above the door announceed to anyone that might have passed along this blind, dark and forboding alley that this was Rose's Bar. I went in not expecting much and I wasn't dissapointed. Rose was behind the bar and I hoped to god that she would stay there. She was a big girl. Not fat, you could never call her fat, not even if you where half way to Alpha Centauri could you call her fat because she would hear. And she would find you. No, she wasn't fat but she was big. She had forearms like anvils, you could crack walnuts on her biceps. I know this because she was doing it in front of me and once she finished that the bar creaked as she spread her gigantic hands and leant on it.
"W'oo'ant"
"Er." I'm normally pretty good with women. Look at their eyes not their breasts. Listen to what they say, nod at all the right moments and always comment on their new hair do. But Rose had me stumped. Because, despite all her . . . . . physical attributes (And believe me there where many more than the ones I have mentioned . . . . Oh. I did mention breasts. Ok just a few more than the ones I mentioned) I found myself strangely attracted to her. And I wasn't sure that was a good thing.
"P.P.P.Pinta best please" I stammered out. How the hell was I going to ask this woman if she kept any ladies of alternative employment in the building. It was all I could do to stand my ground and just drink my drink. (As it would transpire I would never have to get around to asking that question and nor would I worry myself further about Rose and my strange attraction, just to allay your fears. In case you where getting worried or something). I sat at the bar as far from Rose as possible. Which seemed to be a common theme as I found myself in a considerable body of men all crowded intot the dark receses of the bar. I nodded a few greetings and rolled my self a cig. It was then that I noticed him. he was watching me from up against the back wall. Shrouded in smoke and looking suitable gaelic under his black beret. He continued to stare, holding my gaze. I broke away to pay acute attention to my ciggerete rolling. I risked a glance and he was still staring. Oh god. I thought, it's one of those places. I'll kill my Mechanic when I see him next. Not one to draw undue attention to myself I supped my drink as fast as politly possible and inhaled my ciggy. It soon came apparent my mistake. As my eyes grew accustomed to the place the abundance of leather, feather and latex became apparent. The body of men around me seemed to be a little too close for comfort. i looked around to see that my Gaelic friend had left his station at the wall and was nowhere to be seen. I began to think that I should follow suit. I am not to proud to say that I scuttled out of there. My head low, Libedo cowed and my buttocks clentched. Don't get me wrong I am all for an individuals life choices and would not dream of taking any personal freedoms away. So long as they don't think that they can liberate me I am cool with everything.
Needless to say I hotfooted it out of Rose's with nary a glance back and slunk away up the alley back to port. It was then that I realised my garlic friend was still around.
"Bonjour" He said, emerging from the shadows.
"Arrggg!!!" I said.
"Zere is no need for panic Monsiour. I am a friend."
"Your not a friend of Madam Jovinne are you?"
"Who?"
"Doesn't matter. What do you want?"
"You are the owner of a cargo tug yes?"
"Might be, who wants to know?"
"Let's just zay we are friends of zer peoples reziztance against the willful Dizzstruction of the ze Vinegar Trade."
"Oh, no Mate. I'm not getting into anything political. I don't do political."
"Not even for 1,000,000 Dollarz!!"
"This is 2342 mate. I couldn't even buy a a cheap citrus fir tree air freshener for my cockpit for that. Try again."
"Ok. Ok. I've been out of ze loop for a while. Name your price."
"For what. you havn't told me what the job is yet"
"We have a consignment of Ze Finest French Red Vine Vinegar that we need to get to Europa-1 in time for Bastille day."
"If I remember correctly the Bush Dynasty Corporation outlawed all things French."
"Ar yes. But ze outer Planets havn't. And as French Ved Vine Viniger can only come from France. Then we must produce it here and get it there".
"But what with the Earth-Mars embargo against all things Europan and vice versa how the hell do you propose we get it there?"
"You just need to get past the Inner Border Patrols. And for zat we have labelled the bottle 'produce of California' ve zink that will fool them."
"You think. Have you done this before?"
"No."
"Right"
"Zo?"
"How much again?"
"How much vould you like?"
"10 to power of 20. In Dollars."
"Znot zat much".
"Ok. 10 to the 19."
"Deal."
"Deal".
And we shook.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The Border patrol stopped me just short of the Asteroid belt. They must have seen me shitting myself from low Earth Orbit. The rather fierce Fleet Captain ordered me too pull over and to be prepared to be boarded. And so I was. I would have called them Gorilla's but that would have been an insult to anything Ape like. These guys didn't exsist to think, they existed purely to be a trigger fingure and to listen to the words 'Arrest him' Which they often got confused with the words 'Kill him'. They really couldn't get their heads around 'cease fire!' or 'STOP FIRING!' or 'FOR CHRIST SAKE CEASE FIRE OR I'LL HAVE YOU GUTS FOR A MEDAL RIBBON AND TAKE YOUR MOTHERS OUT TO FOR A RUDDY GOOD SEEING TOO!'. Empathy was not what they where employed for. Their Captain on the other hand was a Captain for good reason. He knew his men where grenades that had pulled their own pins out and where just looking for somewhere to throw themselves but he knew how to interpret orders not just follow them. He ordered his men to search the ship and one of them had come up to the cockpit where me and the Captain where sharing very few words and a number of fruitful silences. The soldier who had come up to the cockpit was carrying a bottle.
"Found this Sir."
"Just this Seargent?".
"No sir. It had quite a few friends sir. Shall I take them into custody Sir?"
"You can't take a bottle into custody Seargent. You confiscate a bottle Seargent."
"Sir. Yes Sir. Shall I Confiscate the cargo Sir!"
The Captain hefted the bottle and read out the label. 'Ze Finest French Ved Vine Vinegar.'" He read further down the label. "Made in California, America. Honest."
By this time I was really getting nervous and I was sure the funny smell that had engulfed the cockpit was me. I had to think quickly . . . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . .
the Captain turned the bottle over in his hands. I thought some more.
. . . . .
. . . . .
. . . . Ah! . . . No.
The Captain asked his Seargent how many of these bottles where there. The Seargent looked like he would have trouble counting his fingers. "Lots' Sir".
I really needed some sort of plan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .'Damn it'
"What?" Replied the Captain.
"It's coolant. Yes. That's it. My reactor, it's pinking you see. Running a bit hot. You don't know how many things I've tryed but this stuff does it. I've gone through Ketchup, Hard Water, Soft Water, Tap water, Marsian Gin, Mercurial Sulpher Ice. Everything. But this stuff. Amazing. I don't know what those Frenchi . . . . Californian' put in it but it damn keeps my motor cool."
"Show me."
"Hmm. What."
"Show me."
"Show you?"
"Yes. Show. Me."
"Right. yes. Ok then. This way."
I poured a whole crate into coolant before the Captain was satisfied. He wasn't stupid. He must have thought that anyone stupid enough to pour their own contraband into their engine woulldn't be able to get to where they where supposed to be delievering it. He let me go. But not without writing me a ticket for altering my registration with some convieniently placed rivets.
I limped into Europa-1 a day after Bastille day. So with a depleted stock and having missed the very reason that I was running this stuff for in the first place I got a fraction of what I was supposed to be paid. Barely enough to cover the cost of a new Coolant chamber and reactor lining.
And I still havn't got enough money to get laid.
Reminds of the time I fought alongside the Dread Pirate George in the Battle for O'Briens Drift. But that's another story. . . . .
-Edit- Yes. Yes. I know I got the date wrong. So sue me.
Last edited by Funnybear, .
Sure I could have done that, but it's not really a plot hole as I explained either previously or afterwards (But the way my mind works it really doesn't matter which) that I couldn't run for ever you see. Do try and keep up dear chap. If I gave her back then the heat was of me. Luckily enough there was that other silly sod dithering around out there blowing smoke up his arse that stood in, very convincingly I must say, for yours truly. So there you go. No plot hole Per Say' but as I have mentioned this is compleltly written on the fly with no back edits so don't expect water into wine.
And as some of you have guessed I love that very familiar way that DA writes. Such a fertile imagination. The literary world miss's's's's him dearly. I do like Terry Pratchett as well, so long as I'm reading him and not listening to him. He really doesn't have a voice for radio. But yes I love that informal, comedic writing bent. It kinda suits my personality (as it should I guess).
-edit- Oh and by the way. all this is copywrited Circa . . about now. So no wogging and blatent plagerism. Thats my job.
Last edited by Funnybear, .
Saucer of milk . . .
Imagine if you will. Europa-1. Once a frontier laboratory built into the very ice sheet of Europa it soon developed into a bustling colony. The whole place revolves around money and capitalism. From the Deeps where the massive submarines plough the deep Europan oceans for the rich protien harvests to the Uppers that serve the mining cartels and the big Multi-corps. If you got hte money Europa is the place to spend it. If you got the dollar then someone will happily relieve you of it for whatever you want.
It was in some back alley bar when I met her. Man she was stunning. Long, jet black hair. Classic Italian decent looks. Dark, husky and made me bulge in embarrasing places. I saw her walk into the joint, which was one of my favorite haunts. Far enough of the beaten track to escape the Shore Leave Navy boys, Mining Engineers and Tug Jocks but still enough of a place to have a buzz about it. It was a local bar for local people and they knew me there. I had just got of a six month prospecting junket around the asteroid belt and had turned a tidy profit from selling my findings. I got a good rep round these parts and my finds always turn up the goods so money ain't hard to come by.
So there I was. My birthday, sat at the bar minding my own, nursing my pint and smoking my baccy, jawing with the barkeep when in she walked. The entire pub stopped and as one man turned and watched her walk to the bar. You know the kinda girl. It happens in bars everywhere. She knows she's got it and she knows that the pub is silent for her. She rocks up to the bar and settles herself on the seat next to me and orders herself a pint of best. I do like a pint girl. Now I ain't no flash git, I ain't got the patter and I ain't got the looks. I'm a softly softly kinda guy, let them come to me I say. And come to me she did. She leant over and purred in a thick Mediterranean-Jovian accent "Could I trouble you to roll me a cigerette please". She had me, hook line and sinker. We talked about everything, like we where best buddies that hadn't seen each other for ages. We talked about politics (I pride myself on keeping abreast on current affairs), she surprised me by being very well eduacated about all things mining, I should have seen that as a warning. I was hopelessly in love. She was everything I wanted. Great looks, great body and a great mind. Sooner than expected the Barkeep rang time and that awkward moment came when you try and sum up the courage to try and carry on the liason. And so I did. We went out to a local club, a salsa bar run by a mate of mine. They where playing songs from the old time and she showed me some moves on the dance floor, boy could she move.
you couldn't stop me then. I was off. The night of my life. I had the talk, the walk and the cash. We sampled as much as Europa-1 could offer us. We watched the Io transit with it's massive Aurora as the moon circuited Jupiter and we went down and watched the many subs come and go from the docks. We wandered through the Centro district getting noodles from a wok house and we stopped by the Centro park. That's when we kissed. I need not go into to much detail but needless to say I offered to show her my ship. She accepted.
it was a happy few days. Doing what kids do, letting the Auto Nav wander where Auto Navs like to wander, buzzing frieghters, ferry's and cruise ships alike. Just generally having a good time. Neither of us where concerned about the outside world so it came as some surprise when I pinged the net and the first News bulletin came down about the abducted daughter of a Massivle Rich and Famous Mining Magnet. Imagine my real shock and horror when the picture uploaded showing none other than the new love of my life. They even had the registration of my ship and had broadcast the Ident across the entire solar system. I was a dead man. This girl was worth like . . . a Fortunes fortune. She stood to inherit enough money to buy the galaxy ten times over. I was in so much trouble. It was only then that I realised she was stood behind me and had read the Braodcast over my shoulder. "Take me away honey" she said. Her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not part of that life. Take me away."
I had nowhere to take her. My prospecting barge, although a home from home, couldn't out run anything. Sure we could roam the System, hiding in the Asteroid belt, maybe going deep space for a bit. but we couldn't run for ever. Sooner or later we would have to come up for air.
I shook my head. Speechless. I couldn't do anything.
It was then that I got a bounce. I'd been clocked and my Ident recognised as a fugitive carrying an abductee.
"I'll explain" She said. "I'll make sure you won't get into trouble"
"Sorry love. I've been around long enough to know that your father ain't gunna let that happen. I already got six destroyers from your fathers personal fleet, nine local law Frigates, a mining hulk and a couple of bounty hunters all pointing some very big guns in my general direction sowing up on my little screen thingy here. There's nothing for it, your gunna have to go."
So I forced her into the escape pod. Jettisoned it in the vaugue direction of the bounce, rotated my ident, dropped the Barge into overdrive and ran for the hills.
After, of course, a quick fondle for the memory of it.
It took many months of careful hair growth and DNA manipulation to enable me to show my face around Jove again. In fact you could say it wasn't my face anymore, it certainly wasn't my hair.
Apparently they caught a geezer who matched the description sent out and the stupid bugger bought the same ship ident off the same blackmarket shyster that I did who'd been pootling along minding his own business in the same parsec of space that I was. So all that face changing, DNA swapping, hair growing effort was wasted.
She was a looker though.
Which reminds of the time when I once ran the barricade during the inner-outer conflict of '63 with a hold full of contraband french Red wine vinegar . . . but thats another story.
It was in some back alley bar when I met her. Man she was stunning. Long, jet black hair. Classic Italian decent looks. Dark, husky and made me bulge in embarrasing places. I saw her walk into the joint, which was one of my favorite haunts. Far enough of the beaten track to escape the Shore Leave Navy boys, Mining Engineers and Tug Jocks but still enough of a place to have a buzz about it. It was a local bar for local people and they knew me there. I had just got of a six month prospecting junket around the asteroid belt and had turned a tidy profit from selling my findings. I got a good rep round these parts and my finds always turn up the goods so money ain't hard to come by.
So there I was. My birthday, sat at the bar minding my own, nursing my pint and smoking my baccy, jawing with the barkeep when in she walked. The entire pub stopped and as one man turned and watched her walk to the bar. You know the kinda girl. It happens in bars everywhere. She knows she's got it and she knows that the pub is silent for her. She rocks up to the bar and settles herself on the seat next to me and orders herself a pint of best. I do like a pint girl. Now I ain't no flash git, I ain't got the patter and I ain't got the looks. I'm a softly softly kinda guy, let them come to me I say. And come to me she did. She leant over and purred in a thick Mediterranean-Jovian accent "Could I trouble you to roll me a cigerette please". She had me, hook line and sinker. We talked about everything, like we where best buddies that hadn't seen each other for ages. We talked about politics (I pride myself on keeping abreast on current affairs), she surprised me by being very well eduacated about all things mining, I should have seen that as a warning. I was hopelessly in love. She was everything I wanted. Great looks, great body and a great mind. Sooner than expected the Barkeep rang time and that awkward moment came when you try and sum up the courage to try and carry on the liason. And so I did. We went out to a local club, a salsa bar run by a mate of mine. They where playing songs from the old time and she showed me some moves on the dance floor, boy could she move.
you couldn't stop me then. I was off. The night of my life. I had the talk, the walk and the cash. We sampled as much as Europa-1 could offer us. We watched the Io transit with it's massive Aurora as the moon circuited Jupiter and we went down and watched the many subs come and go from the docks. We wandered through the Centro district getting noodles from a wok house and we stopped by the Centro park. That's when we kissed. I need not go into to much detail but needless to say I offered to show her my ship. She accepted.
it was a happy few days. Doing what kids do, letting the Auto Nav wander where Auto Navs like to wander, buzzing frieghters, ferry's and cruise ships alike. Just generally having a good time. Neither of us where concerned about the outside world so it came as some surprise when I pinged the net and the first News bulletin came down about the abducted daughter of a Massivle Rich and Famous Mining Magnet. Imagine my real shock and horror when the picture uploaded showing none other than the new love of my life. They even had the registration of my ship and had broadcast the Ident across the entire solar system. I was a dead man. This girl was worth like . . . a Fortunes fortune. She stood to inherit enough money to buy the galaxy ten times over. I was in so much trouble. It was only then that I realised she was stood behind me and had read the Braodcast over my shoulder. "Take me away honey" she said. Her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not part of that life. Take me away."
I had nowhere to take her. My prospecting barge, although a home from home, couldn't out run anything. Sure we could roam the System, hiding in the Asteroid belt, maybe going deep space for a bit. but we couldn't run for ever. Sooner or later we would have to come up for air.
I shook my head. Speechless. I couldn't do anything.
It was then that I got a bounce. I'd been clocked and my Ident recognised as a fugitive carrying an abductee.
"I'll explain" She said. "I'll make sure you won't get into trouble"
"Sorry love. I've been around long enough to know that your father ain't gunna let that happen. I already got six destroyers from your fathers personal fleet, nine local law Frigates, a mining hulk and a couple of bounty hunters all pointing some very big guns in my general direction sowing up on my little screen thingy here. There's nothing for it, your gunna have to go."
So I forced her into the escape pod. Jettisoned it in the vaugue direction of the bounce, rotated my ident, dropped the Barge into overdrive and ran for the hills.
After, of course, a quick fondle for the memory of it.
It took many months of careful hair growth and DNA manipulation to enable me to show my face around Jove again. In fact you could say it wasn't my face anymore, it certainly wasn't my hair.
Apparently they caught a geezer who matched the description sent out and the stupid bugger bought the same ship ident off the same blackmarket shyster that I did who'd been pootling along minding his own business in the same parsec of space that I was. So all that face changing, DNA swapping, hair growing effort was wasted.
She was a looker though.
Which reminds of the time when I once ran the barricade during the inner-outer conflict of '63 with a hold full of contraband french Red wine vinegar . . . but thats another story.
He couldn't even spell it let alone be on it . . .
I have a Mysapce account. It's Myspace.com/Mypub/Mypint/mytab.com.
it's amazing how many people you meet on MyChair.com in MyPub.com. People leave me messages with MyBarmaid and I can rely to them through the technological marvel of MyPen/MyPostit/BackofBar dot com. And the video and audio feeds are out of this world. Although after a bit of MyPint.com the two can become slighty overwhelming and a tad confusing so a visit to MyBog/MyPub.com is needed to calm everything down again. And you never know if your lucky you can indulge in a bit og MyDrunkNewFriend/Shagging/Carpark.com. best cyber you will ever have.
So if you want to visit my Site come to MyFarFromTheMaddingCrowd.com/FriarsPassage/Oxford/England=TimmyattheBar&makemineapintthankyou.
Dot
Com.
it's amazing how many people you meet on MyChair.com in MyPub.com. People leave me messages with MyBarmaid and I can rely to them through the technological marvel of MyPen/MyPostit/BackofBar dot com. And the video and audio feeds are out of this world. Although after a bit of MyPint.com the two can become slighty overwhelming and a tad confusing so a visit to MyBog/MyPub.com is needed to calm everything down again. And you never know if your lucky you can indulge in a bit og MyDrunkNewFriend/Shagging/Carpark.com. best cyber you will ever have.
So if you want to visit my Site come to MyFarFromTheMaddingCrowd.com/FriarsPassage/Oxford/England=TimmyattheBar&makemineapintthankyou.
Dot
Com.
Pc Zone and/or PC Forum or something like that. They'd done a bit about LFS in the online section. Looked it up, had a go on the demo and viola! A rabbit from a hat and I wish I was a baller.
No, thats not right. Viola, here I am two years later spamming the LFS forums for all I'm worth.
But never fear . . new job, new money, new gaming rig. I'll soon be back terrorising Aston National with my purple (Not Pink!!) FZR . . .
No, thats not right. Viola, here I am two years later spamming the LFS forums for all I'm worth.
But never fear . . new job, new money, new gaming rig. I'll soon be back terrorising Aston National with my purple (Not Pink!!) FZR . . .
Just noticed that Honey is Italian . . . Hmmmmm.
Ciao Bella. Come Sta?
Mia molta caldo pour vu . . . . or something.
Ciao.
Bueno Notte. Sogni d'oro.
Erm.
Ciao Bella. Come Sta?
Mia molta caldo pour vu . . . . or something.
Ciao.
Bueno Notte. Sogni d'oro.
Erm.
Mate. I got shit loads where that came from. God knows how many words I got on my harddrive. Maybe I should start a blog or something.
-edit- So. Me and the magnets daughter! Wanna hear?
Bear in mind I'm making this up on the fly so it ain't gunna be all that . . . .
-edit- So. Me and the magnets daughter! Wanna hear?
Bear in mind I'm making this up on the fly so it ain't gunna be all that . . . .
That comedian bloke . . You know the one . . thingy . .whatsisname . . Forces sweetheart . . . Does Sincerella. God, I can picture him in my head . . . .names on the tip of my toungue . . . JIM DAVIDSON . . . HAHA.
He got done by so many times by cameras on the M4 that he used double jeapoardy in court to try and get him off. Saying that it was the same journey and that he was speeding the entire time, so how can he get done for the same crime over and over again.
The courts didnt' buy it and took his licence away.
He got done by so many times by cameras on the M4 that he used double jeapoardy in court to try and get him off. Saying that it was the same journey and that he was speeding the entire time, so how can he get done for the same crime over and over again.
The courts didnt' buy it and took his licence away.
Weeeellllll.
There I was. Minding my own business. you know, window down, stereo up, fag in hand, arm hanging out, G/F in the passenger seat, the hyper drive just ticking over. When I thought, hell. I've just had that new NOXious-gas kit fitted and I hadn't really had a chance to try it out yet. I thought that this would impress the new missus. So, I find myself an empty bit of interstellar highway knowing f'shaw that there ain't no cops around. Not at this time of orbit anyway. So I wind up the window, stub out the fag, turn down the stereo (Bat out of Hell, Meatloaf. Good track.), warn the bird and wind up the 'drive. Got 'er going striaght and level and WHAM!!! The Nox slammed in. Man, you've never seen a VX Nova class sub-light move sooooo fast. MAN!!! I shit a brick. I was gripping that joystick so tight that my knuckles turned white. When, all of a sudden there was three, no four, make that six cops on my tail. They must have been hiding behind that advert on the asteroid. You know the one, just past Object 663-994z9alpha. The Coca Cola one. They must have been sat there just waiting for me. Must have seen my Ion trail a mile off. there was nothing I could do. I must have been pulling over 1,000,000 ton when I past them. there was no way I could get this bitch slowed down to the limit. So I thought, F'k it. At this speed I should be round Neptune and going for the sling shot round Pluto before they could even get a lock. I was thinking then, if I nipped through the mining complex, hugged the gravity fields and blatted down the back lane's I should get an inverted reflux before they could get a bead on me.
But oh no. They must have all been having a convention or something. It was police central out there. There was me, shouting at the bird "why are they out here. Havn't they got any real criminals to catch?" and me bird was shouting at me "You b'stard. Your gunna get me killed. Wait till I tell our Dor about this. She's gunna have your gut's for garters".
"Your Dor. Thats the least of my worries your stupid bint. If I get caught I've got six years no remarnd and we're still 50 AU's from home."
At which point I kinda lost it. I rammed that Nox to the max. Everything was screaming at me. My Bird, my Ride, me . . . Things where going pop, things where blowing smoke and that was just the bird. But by christ I did it. I out ran six . . . . . ty of the interstellar corps coppers finest Blues and Two's with a simple VX Nova class Frig.
Although I will let you into a little secret. My mate once told me that they don't like going to deep into Jupiters Magnetic field right. B'cause they don't get the sick pay for all the 'rad exposure. So I ducked in right. Past Io, through the Aurora and into the clouds. Didn't go too far cause this 'ol boat 'o' mine don't like gravity. But just enough to shake the Roz. Doc only reckons it's taken 'bout six years off me. Fair deal for out running the Cops though.
Bird left me. Said six years or not she ain't wasting anymore with me. Sold the Nova too. Got a bird up the duff on Europa whilst 'avin a good night out with the lads. She's dun me for money so I've had to trade in the Nos for something slightly more sedate. A Ford Galaxy Class big bus of a people carrier. Couldn't pull the gas from a nebulae. Damn thing.
So there you go. My brush with law. Take my advice, stay the right side of it and don't get a bird up the duff . . .
Which reminds me of the time when I absconded with the daughter of a powerful mining magnet. he had the entire solar system out looking for us . . .
But that's another story.
If you are trying to sell a game. And please feel free to burn me for this. I am after all going straight to the ninth dimension of Hell anyway. But shouldn't you at least try and let people read correct english. Particularily if the flag you are flying is the good 'ol Union Jack. I wouldn't go near your game just on the sheer dint of really poor syntax.
I know I ain't all that hot but this is after all netspeak but when you are trying to palm off you wares at least try and make an effort. It really does get noticed.
Mate. Work is a bit of an issue atm to be honest . . .
But currently I am sat doing stage door of the theatre that I work in (Predominatly as stage crew, flyman, rigger and stuff). It's a no work job (Watch car park and open the door to snotty nosed actors) and not what I do normally (Which is slightly more labour intensive) but it does mean I get to sit on my arse, use the computer and wax lyrical about anything I want.
It won't last for long 'cause I got me a new job which is going to be well full on. Although it doesn't involve Travelling the outer reaches of the solar system. Whcih reminds me, does anyone wanna here about my brush with the Interstella patrol? It's a good story.
Which is what life is all about . . everyone needs a good story or two.
But currently I am sat doing stage door of the theatre that I work in (Predominatly as stage crew, flyman, rigger and stuff). It's a no work job (Watch car park and open the door to snotty nosed actors) and not what I do normally (Which is slightly more labour intensive) but it does mean I get to sit on my arse, use the computer and wax lyrical about anything I want.
It won't last for long 'cause I got me a new job which is going to be well full on. Although it doesn't involve Travelling the outer reaches of the solar system. Whcih reminds me, does anyone wanna here about my brush with the Interstella patrol? It's a good story.
Which is what life is all about . . everyone needs a good story or two.
Harsh . . .fair. But harsh.
In factI am at work. hence the rather long and protracted posts . . .
In factI am at work. hence the rather long and protracted posts . . .
Do you know one? Been looking for ages . . .
You know what . . . they probs ain't such a bad idea.
You have to upload your skin right . . so therefore the central (sic) server has a copy of that skin so everyone can see it. Sooooo, a cheater is found out and a replacement skin is shown. One that will have CHEATER!! emblazoned across it . . . Can't be so hard to do . . .
Plus, what happens in RL . . You get clamped. Cheaters get their cars clamped. So they can't exit and re-login and they can't drive. And a big yellow clamp is placed on their wheel so everyone can see. A cyber punishment in everyway.
Or beat them with a comically shaped turnip.
Actually all things considered I think the latter has more longevity . ..
Ok. You need to register with the Europan (The Jovian Moon) customs and excise at which point they will ask you for sixteen different Identification points . . you know the sort . . . Photo, DNA, fingerprints, tenticle prints, how many brains, Number of offspring, home address, recent library books taken out and a financial check through the gestalt banks of Io. (Beware that last one, don't get a check and they come down on you like a dwarf planet. Once you've completed all the paper work in triplicate they will then lose it, bury it and compost it for three years and return it to you for a signiture by, at the very least, three upstanding and stalwart citizens of the intergalactic commenwealth (they ask for this knowing full well that you can't get three upstanding citizens anywhere in the known universe let alone within the galactic commenwealth). Once and if you manage to get your signitories then you need to pass through passport control on Calisto. And you think you had it hard so far . . . Luckily you have family our there, if you didn't I would have said turn back at Jupiter and have a ball on Mars, but as it is . . .
Firstly. Don't smile, blink, breath or even be alive around the customs officials. There is nothing they hate more than an entity showing all the classic sign of life. They hate the paperwork. Better of to play dead and travel freight. If you don't have a hibernatory metabolism or can withstand the cold of space then be prepared to 'grease' the way. These customs guys like nothing more than some good old fashioned 2 stroke oil. God knows what they do with it but it's amazing how a misplaced bottle of such can 'grease' (No pun intended) you passage through to the outer solar system.
If you can survive all of that with a modicum of good humour and health than you are more than amply prepared for the mind numbingly dull tedium of Kuiper belt space and the god awful amount of time it takes to traverse it at those rediculous low speeds that the intergalactic transport management commitee have imposed on it . . . Which brings me onto my run in with the deep space patrol and how to cope with them.
But that another story all together.
I hope that helps.
FGED GREDG RDFGDR GSFDG