"What other stupid stereotypes are used for Aussies... Kiwis... Bananas... whoever?"

Banana-benders, sandgropers, taswegians... the list is endless. We all have secret names such as these. But if you use the wrong name on someone, you will be struck down in the blink of an eye. Choose - but choose wisely.
[Message Edited]

You shouldn't criticise their simple woolly charms. Just don't hang out with the specially trained snappy sheep, if you get my drift. Oh, and give us a high ten bro (as he checks out the black face).

Reminder. Threadzilla Grows impatient and wishes to be fed. She grows tired of other threads being fed and is about to rip apart the forum.

Here’s ten Evil ones up high! Here’s a second sentence of deranged European likeness for you to ignore. And here’s ten Evil ones WAY down in the firey pits!

Well don't blame us PBP. Gerakken is the one who started this bad boy. I think it's a good idea to soak the market a little. Put some G.R.O.S.S. here, some G.R.O.S.S. there, keep feeding Threadzilla since it's a billboard in it's own right. If I grab a black eye patch and pull on a pair of... (what kind of boots are those?), I'll switch to the 'Zilla.

That I did. We needed a recruiting thread anyway, and it was my turn at bat. The old system involved putting a new recruiting thread up once or twice a week. I put my own style into it. I prefer a persistent single recruitment thread that is fed regularly.



That's the idea.

I grab a black eye patch and pull on a pair of... (what kind of boots are those?), I'll switch to the 'Zilla.

Jack Boots? We've been called jack booted thugs on occasion HEHE. We'll call this one baby threadzilla.

The scanners show some pretty fearsome firefights going on in ranks 2-5. It is not a safe time to be sitting on fences. There is power in numbers. There are lots of empires to join, just consider that it is safer to join GROSS than it is to be one of our victims. We are large, in charge, and we are GROSS!

You bet Gunner. Speakinf of which. I better get off these boards and get playing.

I told you Gunner, don't count those Euro's out. They've even passed the mwc. Lots of firefighting going on behind us. Fire up them engines and lets get going. There may yet be some raiding we can do.

It was a quiet day in space aboard the Doom. Sure, the scanners had a lot of activity, but it was a fair distance away now. A pitched battle with the MWC eventually resulted in them executing a strategic withdrawl. So we were drifting slowly along, recovering from a hard fought battle and drinking some of that fine looted booze. But, before we knew it, the Doom flew into this eerie white fog. The cloud didn't show up on the scanners and no one saw it coming. We were just in it.

The scanners no longer had any readings at all. The external comm channels were out. I was focused on the instruments, trying to garner any bit of useful data still left from them, but I could hear some commotion around me, snippets of conversation:
"I don't like this..."
"Maybe we should turn back?"
"How do we know which way is back, exactly? The nav gear is all screwed up."

Then came a familiar voice, the boss. "All ahead, very slow. We need to figure out what we are dealing with first." My reply was swift, "Aye, boss." I slow the Doom down to a crawl. We all start to ponder on what to do about our clouded condition when the Doom shudders and lurches. Collision alerts sound everywhere. The dreaded status alert voice comes over the speakers: "Hull breach, Deck C, hull breach, Deck C. Intruder alert, Deck C, intruder alert, Deck C." As the members of the bridge crew recover from the jolt, getting up off the deck, putting out small fires, nursing minor wounds, we see a great white ship with a giant red maple leaf flag has rammed us. It was the Canadian Ghost Ship. The undead were upon us!

Panicked voices reported in: "Zombies on C Deck, boss! Tons of them." Another frantic call: "We are being overun. Ghouls are breaking out and going down to D Deck. The boss acted quickly and decisively. "I am going down to help repel the invaders. Staffa, EBZ, you're with me. Gerakken, think of something that can kill these zombies. I don't care what it is, just do it! Coffee, you have the bridge since you're so lazy anyway."

The few minutes that followed were a battle of life and undeath for the front line on C Deck. Staffa was releasing carefully aimed bursts from his plasma staff. EBZ was doing his best action hero imitation, firing two rapid-fire mini-disrupters on full auto while jumping, diving, and rolling amongst the living dead. The boss was swaggering through the animated corpses, cutting them down one by one with his energy cutlass.

Meanwhile, the Spymaster Gerakken suits up for a little spacewalk. Going up to the observation lounge, he sneaks out a hatch normally reserved for receiving VIPs. He deftly fingers the thruster controls, drifting toward the ghost ship. The ship is littered with wreckage, dented, battered, and neglected. There are several holes of various sizes all over the ship. Plenty of ways in.

Gerakken finds his way into the ship after what seems to be an eternity. Every minute the Nosferatu hordes are allowed to pour into to the Doom is a minute less for the crew to survive. Time is critical. Gerakken finds some faded signs that lead him to the cafeteria, after slinking by the occasional undead guard along the way. There is a very large screen above all the tables. An entertainment center, perfect! Gerakken frantically looks the controls for the center. There are no zombies here, afterall, the flesh of the living on the Doom is the best eating right now, so they are all over there.

After a short search, the control center is found, along with several holocrystals. None look interesting at first, but one has a microlabel that peaks Gerakken's interest: Calgary vs. Montreal. This will do the trick! He puts the crystal in place, turns the entertainment center on at full blast, and starts runs to the backroom officer's lounge. Finding a case of fine Canadian whiskey, Gerakken sneaks out back the way he came.

Meanwhile, on the Doom, the crew looks overwhelmed as the onslaught of undead continues. Staffa is out of ammo and swinging his staff wildly, trying to fight off zombies. EBZ is showing off some great kung fu, trying to cover his crewmate's back and keep the ungrateful dead at bay. The boss has many scratches and wounds, but is throwing corpses around like cordwood still when he is not running them through with his cutlass. But, the zombies suddenly stop. Some unexplainable force is calling them back to their ship. The confused GROSS crew is in shock, not knowing what to think about fighting hand to hand one minute and then being left alone.

Gerakken sneaks back out to the outer part of the ship before most of the undead make it back to the cafeteria. He knows that the hockey game will buy him and his ship a little time, but not forever. Gerakken flies back at full thrust and darts back into the lounge's VIP airlock. Just in time to hear the battle weary boss say: "Let's get out of here. Scrape that pile of space junk off of my ship and then all ahead full! I don't care what is in this fog, just get us out of here! I am going to get a drink and then going to sick bay."

As the Doom quickly leaves the mystery cloud, Gerakken smiles as he speaks into his intercom: "Boss, Just go to sick bay first. I will bring the drinks."
[Message Edited]

Meanwhile, aboard the Canadian ship, deprived of their booze, a song is heard on pitch and well sung for the first time ever.

THIS LITTLE HOCKEY GAME IT'S THE BEST GAME YOU CAN NAME...........

And as the Survey ship of doom emerges from the cloud back in G.R.O.S.S. space the entire horror of the situation becomes clear. All that was, is no more. The white council, the MWC, everyone, all overrun by this strange cloud. Our G.R.O.S.S. heroes can only hope someone survived the onslaught other than thay.

C'mon in to the crew quarters y'all. Sit for a spell. Let's chat for a while next to the cozy fire. Ummm... why is EB's bunk on fire? Hey somebody put that out!

Where were we? A chat, right. Well I wasn't there for the zombie attack, but perhaps I can answer some of your questions about G.R.O.S.S.

Why the Evil routine? Oh that's a good... er... Evil question. I believe much of the answer lies in Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail. Remember the scene with the rabbit? In this metaverse there exist three Evil rabbits. "Three shall be the number... and the number... shall be three. ...Five is right out!" Never mind the three horsemen of the apocalypse, these rabbits are "the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent[s] you've ever set eyes on!" Do-gooders beware! These Evil rabbits maim, slaughter, nibble on celery, and feed an ocean of blood! In a visceral sense, the Doom sails through space following their trail of little Evil pellet droppings. We set this course because the Evil rabbits are hop hop hopping their way to the gates of salvation. Beyond those gates lies the eternal peace of destruction, annihilation, "look at the bones!"... at least for those alien scum. I hear there's also the biggest booty of booze to be had! That's what My Dark Lord Pontius...

Hey! Don't run away! I wasn't finished! All well. You'll be sorry you didn't buy any of my holy hand grenades!

The Doom survived an encounter with the Canadian Ghost Ship thanks to a valiant crew of both warriors and tricksters alike as well as a recorded hockey game. The mystery cloud is behind us, for the moment. Gerakken has once again suited up to supervise repairs caused by being rammed by the ghost ship.

While trying to weld on a particularly tough section of hull plating that the droids have had trouble handling, Gerakken nervously keys on his suit comm unit: "Bridge, it would really help if we could stop in order to make these repairs. Going a buzillion miles per second makes a risky job far more dangerous."

The boss answers back: "No can do. I told you to kill those things, Gerakken. You only temporarily stopped them. They'll be comin' back after us soon enough. Oh, and by the way, scrape and repaint the whole ship when you get the body work finished. Bridge out."

Gerakken sighs and goes limp for a second. More work. It was such an easy ship to take care of when it was so small, but now the Doom is a monster of a vessel. This must be the most retrofitted ship in history. Luckily, Gerakken had planned ahead for this day. There was something new in the workshop.

Using captured Yor technology, a chain of small robots systematically scapes, sands, and disinfects the bare hull plate. Then the painter robots follow in another chain to apply ultra fast drying paints to finish the job. Although the process had not been tried on the whole ship yet, testing on small test plates in the shop looked promising. These robots should do in several hours what would have taken a crew of one hundred traditional maintanence droids days to accomplish.

But first things first. There is a gaping hole in C Deck that is only half patched. Back to welding.

Long live G.R.O.S.S.!

You betcha travis. You can join us if you have the game.

The Doom was still hurtling along at unbelievable speeds, getting as far away from the Canadian Ghost Ship as possible. There is no way to kill all of the undead horde, so running is the only option at the moment. Gerakken had just finished the rest of the repair work. After going back inside the ship, Gerakken finds out that the boss, Pontius, before taking off in his personal assault craft to shake down some nearby aliens for some tribute, had rifled through the experimental workshop to gaze at Gerakken's prototype gadgets and took one.

Panicked, Gerakken races to the workshop to see what has been borrowed. All of the devices in here were experimental prototypes. Most were still being built, but one was complete enough to be deployed. The hull scraper/repainter was ready to be tested on the whole ship and that was originally scheduled to be done after the repair work. Gerakken quickly notices what was taken. The test would have to wait.

The missing device was a captured Yor diplomatic droid that had recently been repaired, but had not been reprogrammed yet. The hardware may be fixed, but the software was not only alien, but corrupted as well. Far above being just a translator and a database, this driod was well versed in protocol and intergalactic law. The problem: it is programmed according to the Yor interpretation of diplomacy, and the program is corrupted as well. If the boss uses this, all sorts of misunderstandings could occur.

Gerakken opens the comm channel to the bridge: "Tell the boss NOT TO USE THE DROID!!! It is not ready yet!"

The answer comes back, "Maybe that explains why the boss is calling for some shock troops. He said he is running into heavy resistance from the aliens. The aliens not only refuse to pay tribute, but they are rioting and causing all sorts of commotion. Something about the droid insulting their lineage, religion, physical appearance, and mating rituals."

Gerakken goes limp, falling onto the deck in a sitting position. He talks to himself in the empty room: "Why me?" Looking upward, he adds, "Don't answer that. I guess it is better that I don't know. Somehow I am going to get more work because of this. I think I will go get some stiff drinks, pass out, and get to the hull painting later."

Worry not Gerrakin. Pontius is kicking buttoxe. The Drengin have been annhilated with me absorbing their space. It's me vs all 4 but the Arceans are nearly all mine now, I made peace with them. I made peace with the Yor, for nothing. I am almost to the point where I can have peace with the altarians. With them out of the war, the Torians are going to be made into sushi via my cutlass.

Wow. I never knew my cutlass was good for making sushi. The Torians will seccumb soon.

Bump.

How did this fall off the first page? Ain’t nothin’ a little torture won’t fix!

[Kit plugs the mic into the Doom’s overcomm, flips it on, and turns the volume up - WAY up.]

“Memories
Like the corner of my mind
Misty watercolor mEEEEEEmories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were”

Singing that is a keelhauling offense. Did you not read your pirate's manual? I'll give you a free pass this once. HEHE.

Dropbear eyed this interplay with interest. Would dissension work on the Ship of Doom? Were old ballads one of KitWarrior's failings? His black mind spun with the possibilities.

A thousand and one apologies , Cap'n.

By the way, what happened to our main stock of booz? Somebody left a mess... well a bigger mess than normal... of empty bottles 'n barrels in the hold. A whole mess of fur too. :notsure:

Ahhh just go off ship to the warehouse on the left. All the good stuff's in there. Of course we'll have to tell Gerakkin he can't use the Generic beer and Fosters for engine lubricant anymore.

Yes, we can no longer us the cheap swill in the engines. We have been going so fast for so long running away from undead that we are slowing down from engine strain. By switching to the better stuff, we might be able to get a few more mega horsepower.

As for falling off the first page, I try to add a chapter every other day but fell a bit behind today. (Well, ok, I admit it: A lot behind!) I'll have something ready here for tomorrow.

The boss had returned from dealing with the alien riots caused by a faulty diplomacy droid. The errant machine was safely back in the experimental workshop for later reprogramming. Gerakken was busily preparing the scraper/painter robots for the first whole ship test. Small test sections measuring only about a hundred square feet at most have turned out remarkably well, but that was testing under controlled conditions inside the workshop. It was about time for the real thing.

Suddenly, I hear the boss over the comm channel: "We're slowing down! Get those engines back into shape, or else we will have another appointment with the undead. I don't care if you use chewing gum and duct tape, just do it!"

Gerakken stops for a second and thinks. Then he replies, "Are the engineers too drunk again to think of anything? Perhaps we need to motivate them. Leave it to me, boss."

Gerakken wanders down into the depths of the Doom. The engineers are a bit unsteady from all the drinking, but they are doing their job. A pair are monitoring input/output ratios, while another pair pour alcohol into the Doom's multi-fueled engines. Remarkable devices, really. The engines can not only burn almost anything, but can even run on water alone. But that doesn't produce much power.

Gerakken quickly diagnoses the problem: cheap beer is being poured into the intake. And, worst of all, cheap light beer! In a normal situation, this would be acceptable, as we need to get rid of cheap swill anyway and it is better to use it than to just toss it, but right now we needed every ounce of speed. This requires a fuel that had a more horsepower.

"Alright," Gerakken said in a concerned voice, "there is going to be a change of plan. When we said we needed more power, the first thing you Einsteins should have thought about was what you were feeding the engines. Instead, you just kept on throwing in the cheap beer like always! So, until this emergency has passed, you will only give the engines the good booze. And if anyone has to go without good booze because of any shortage, you four will be the first to suffer. Just hope that our three dozen or so fine raiders can keep bringing back enough fine alcohol that meets the high standards of GROSS, or else you go without and have to drink the cheap swill. Now get back to work."

As Gerakken started to go back to the upper decks, a perceptable lurch was felt. The Doom was speeding up. Gerakken smiles as he thinks about how he must have more faith in the raiders of GROSS than the engineers do. They seem real concerned about potentially having to drink only cheap beer.