Autobots, rollout!

Hello, everyone! Because of current (now old) talk among people in the Escape Velocity web board, I have taken up the responsibility of bringing about a new and exciting thread (or episode) of the Boozerama Bar. If you would like to look back at the previous bars to understand this board, below are the links.

The Boozerama Bar
The Boozerama Bar 2
The Boozerama Bar III
Boozerama Bar IV
Boozerama Bar V

To see the thread for this new bar came into fruition, go to The Official Bitch-About-Boozy Topic

The way this works is how you guys want it to work. This is just a very short intro. I'm a little to busy to post rules so I'll let you guys figure that out really quickly.

As the fog from the EVC board clears, there is a new sight in the board. A new topic has emerged that many people have been waiting for (or possibly never even knew was going to happen in the first place). A new edition of the Boozerama Bar has come to the board in the hopes that this one will be one of the greatest of all time (until the next one of course). But none have even ventured into this new board until, well...today. This a chance to start anew or even to continue what history has left behind for us. Above the bar doors is a sign that offers only a simple warning:

"All who come to this place are welcome to stay. But if you can't take the heat, stay out of the afterburner."

Welcome to the Boozerama Bar: Classic Edition!!!

(I'll be writing official story-type stuff, for kicks. But if you want to skip it and get to the usual bar stuff, just go below the asterisks.)

Atinoda's Kestrels found their oldest member in the Reality Check , a vessel of the original production line.

It was a mercenary vessel in every sense of the word. The engines, while never particularly effective, were now clearly past their prime, though the ship's inhabitants did their best to keep them running. Slightly faster than a Confederation military frigate, it was just as heavily armed. Twin Lightning fighter-bombers, as cutting-edge as their mothership was obsolete, filled the small launch bay. Laser batteries on the front prow of the ship, while long past their production, remained as menacing as the day they were formed. The shields, upgraded far beyond specs, crackled constantly, always giving the impression that they were just about to overload -- but always holding out when they were needed. Twin heavy rocket launchers, embedded in the two back "wings", promised retribution to any foolish enough to trifle with the ancient vessel.

All of this was lost on Bob, as he slouched in the command chair of the massive ship. Becoming the supreme hero of the Confederation failed to change his credit-hunting nature, and it was largely for that reason that he chose to pay Evildrome a visit.

Besides, his ailing cousin's-mother-in-law's-sister's-aunt's-stepson's-niece's-brother's-wife's-grandmother needed another shipment of "Duramex" food rations, and it's always best to remain on the good side of that part of the family.
Not that Bob feared the Mafia, but rum rations tend to keep the crew in line, and her relatives controlled a lot of that corporate territory.

So when Bob found himself, his Limited Edition Uzi™ Replica Machine Pistol, and his wallet outside Evildrome's oldest 'dining' establishment, he found his situation awkward enough to drop in.

Consul Bob strolls into the Bar and drops himself into the Comfy Chair placed conveniently near the entrance. He empties a gun round into the nearby Roach Juice machine and purchases a small can of cherry-flavored water from the bartender, which he drinks. Straight.

duke_juker then appears. He walks into the bar and casually notices how Counsul Bob snickers at his pathetic demeanor. But duke is not phased and walks past without a care for Counsul Bob. duke pulls up a bar stool next to the holographic gambling games and watches as the next Clipper race begins. He orders a Root Beer with double the shot of flavoring on the rocks. He casually sips it while at the same time keeping an eye on Bob.

Before we go to far, let me remind all newcomers of Rule #7:

Quote

7. You can avoid my future wrath by trying to make things at least somewhat EV related every so often. Ya know, maybe just once a page mention your ship or something.

Out of the void of space, a small vessel approached. An unexperienced onlooker might take it for a Clipper, or perhaps an Alien Cruiser, but he'd be wrong. This ship had clearly been made without schematics, and looked like it might have been assembled in the vacuum of space in the midst of a fairly-major fleet battle. Weapons, landing gear, engines, and what appeared to be a Douglas Fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii) shot out of the hull at awkward angles. On the back of the ship, between a sign that read Passive Voice and a fairly meaningless bumpersticker (Just when I discovered the meaning of life, they changed it), was a cockpit. In it, an average-sized man with striking blue eyes and a strikingly large zit on his chin pondered how difficult it is to write concise sentences.

As the Passive Voice prepared to land, onlookers on Evildrome ran away in terror, certain that bizarre religious forces were at work. Balancing on a piece of landing gear and a Proton Cannon, the ship finally negotiated itself into place on top of the bar.

The blue-eyed man enters the bar, but doesn't order anything. Staggering around, he seems to be looking for something, but can't find it for the life of him. A pirate considers pointing out that the idea is to leave the bar drunk, not to come to it drunk, but decides against it.

duke decides that since not too many people have shown up yet, he will go out into space and search for new star systems (knowing that there aren't any left to discover anyway). He boards his Rebel Crusier and takes off with his 6 escort fleet of Rebel Destroyers. But, duke realizes very soon he is being trailed and decides to jump to another system. As soon as his jump is complete he makes a 180 degree turn and faces the oncoming attack. His destroyers take up defensive postions and wait for the signal. duke sees a beem of light and them a fury of proton and lazer fire come his way. The war has begun...

I remember when the Boozy wasn't about multi-paragraph posts, just a few lines of crazyness, like this:

Eegras walks into the bar, sits down at a stool, orders a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, pulls out his own blaster, and shoots a random hooker bot.

Suddenly, 15 Alien Fighters employed by the Intergalactic Paragraph Writer's Association fly in and blow Eegras and the bar to kingdom come with their fusion beams! The bar's ruins, miraculously, avoid falling on Bob, who shrugs, picks up his stuff and leaves.

duke, bedraggled, but still in one piece, limps into the bar as if his leg were broken. duke then realizes that the bar has been destroyed. He then remembers what the bartender robot told him if this ever happened. duke raises his hands and claps twice. The bar reassembles in a matter of seconds. duke then walks to where Bob was sitting and sits in the nice comfy chair. He leans back and pulls his hat over his head. He'll need a long time to think about the battle that just took place. Then, duke hears Eegras comment as if he can read the past.

duke orders a water, pulls out a neutron blaster prototype and shoots out the doors. Little does he know that Bob has not gotten out of the way of the slow moving bolt of energy yet.

A ship comes in from hyperspace. The R.S.S. Destroyer E, a beautiful Rebel Destroyer with numerous and unknown upgrades and custom modifications, speeds through and makes a very quick landing outside the bar. Cap'n Cippy (aka DE) steps off of his ship, placing his Zeus Class Fusion Pistol in his back holster under his leather jacket.

As he walks down the path towards the bar, he pulls out a set of keys. On the key chain in a small remote, which he points at his Destroyer and presses a button. The ship beeps and lights up briefly, signifying the activation of its locking mechanisms.

DE enters the bar and sits down. He glances at the bartender, and he promptly receives a root beer.

mrxak, standing behind the bar, announces a special for the night on the finest Spican Ale.

The man turns to duke. "Hello, captain," he says. "Name's Marvin Grunk. I'm willing to offer you 40,000 credits if you can guarantee my cargo and me safe passage to Beeblebrox."

duke smirks as he tilts up his hat. "Tell you what," duke replies. "If you leave me alone right now, I might give you a five second head start before I blow you're head off." grunk proceeds to think. duke then turns more generous. "Bartender, Coca ColaŠ please. Now, once I'm done with this, you better be out of my sight or I'll blast you into the next Nebula." grunk proceeds to think longer...:huh:

Speaking with clearheaded reason, Grunk points out that murder is illegal, and if you don't cease and desist he's going to fetch the port authorities, and, really, who uses "you're" when "your," is correct, anyway?

Grunk's body, beaten and shot through of holes to the point that it resembles Swiss cheese, provides an excellent source of nourishment for the introduced Tabletop Ultrasnail, a local pest.

duke finishes his Coke ColaŠ and sees that grunk is going through pain and suffering already. But duke doesn't like going back on his word. "I told ya when I'm done you better be outta my sight. Now I have to blast ya." In the flicker of an instant, duke pulls a fusion bolt blaster and fires. grunk is sent sailing out of the bar for a clear 100 yards. duke then walk out of the bar, walks to grunk, and stands over him. "About the "murder is illegal" crap, I got a bounty on your head the other day. Courtesy of the Confederation. Another thing, this is Evildrome. There are no port authorities here. Now, because I'm feeling nice, I'll just kick ya once kick and let you go. I don't care anyhow. I own everything except Palshife, Ruby, and Sol. I make enough anyway. Now scat!" duke heads back to the bar and takes a seat in the nice comfy chair for a while. duke doses off with dreams of complete system domination one day. -_-

Bob trips over a rock outside, just as the neutron bolt flies through where he would have been. He leaves in the Reality Check to lead a Confederation fleet in the final destruction of the pitiful and weakening Rebellion.

"Damnit!" Johnny Burdon yells as he trips over a corpse in the bar entrance. "Can't even get a decent doormat anymore."

Sitting down in anger, he snarls that he wants a Spican Ale, and immediately starts inflicting drawings upon a poor, defenseless notebook.

mrxak feeds his pet Tabletop Ultrasnail a little bit more of grunk.

Eegras constructs an acid pit in the corner and makes it more acid-y and more pit-y than any of the other pits. He tests it by throwing grunk in. Upon hearing screams, Eegras concludes it's a success! He orders another Gargle Blaster and shoots everyone that's making the Boozy into a story.

Unfortunately for Eegras, the Acid Monster of Clueless People Eaters rises up out of the pit and devours him before he can contemplate any such thing.

"Delicious," it says, wiping its non-existent mouth.

Then the Acid Monster, dissolving the floor as it walks, eats the bartender and takes his place.