| An Escape Velocity: Nova...something. Starts with an R...hmm... | | | Author: | | | IP: | 24.225.1XXXX | | Date: | 10/01/03 06:10 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 2, Max: 8, Min: 8
Lifetime Rating for Kazebari: 8.0000 |  | Hello, and welcome to my second Escape Velocity: Nova report. Those of you with photographic memories will know that I've written one of these before and it's main character, Guy Boco, was mildly well-received. Last time we saw him he was narrowly avoiding death in the Sol system. After about two weeks, I have decided to make a new one, new, improved, shiny, glowy with that "New car" scent, and chock full of text. Unlike the previous br, this will not have wide open spaces and the pictures WILL work correctly. Thus, I give you:
If the introduction sounds familiar, it’s because I ripped it off of EE’s second EV:N battlereport. GG me.
________________________________________________________________________
The last we saw our adventurous, audacious, ballsy, brave, chin-up, chivalrous, confident, courageous, daring, dashing, dauntless, defiant, doughty, fearless, firm, foolhardy, forward, gallant, game, gritty, gutsy, hardy, heroic, herolike, imprudent, indomitable, intrepid, lionhearted, manly, militant, nervy, plucky, reckless, resolute, skookum tumtum, spirited, spunky, stalwart, stout, strong, unabashed, unafraid, unblenching, undaunted, undismayed, unfearful, valiant, valorous, venturesome hero, he was bravely fleeing from his foes with his tail between his legs to a safer area.
As he valiantly landed on the station in the constellation Biri, he recklessly changed his ship ID code and mightily avoided all human contact. Soon he was determinedly—(sounds of a sack of potatoes hitting something soft and mushy, something heavy clacking onto something that may or may not be feet, someone putting said probable feet and the body attached into a big burlap bag, a splash as if someone threw the aforementioned bag into the Pacific, and several gunshots)
Okay. Now that the meddlesome narrator has been...taken care of...let’s get on with the show.
As I escaped from the Federation blockade of 1,233,424,656,343,757 humungous carriers, I landed on one of those many “space stations” in the system Biri. I thought I was safe. I thought I was home free.
Little did I know. As I touched down I was waylaid (tee hee, waylaid) by the devastating AURORAN DROP BEAR!
Ow. Auroran Drop Bears suck. I swear, as soon as I am King of the Universe I shall lead a crusade against the vile scum known as the Drop Bear.
Laying in the Auroran hospital I ponderously pondered on how to get on the good side of the Federation again. Then I realized: if I could kill some of the Federation’s enemies, I could get back in its good graces again! So that was the plan, then! I snapped my fingers. Or, more accurately, the heavy box that the nurse dropped on my hand snapped my fingers. Man, having your fingers broken is not fun.
The good thing about having one’s fingers broken is that it helps one get over the habit of...uh...you know.
Anyway, as I jumped out of Biri and into Tichel, I immediately noticed a pirate thunderhead.
Pirate Thunderheads are great, they’re a lot more souped up than a normal thunderhead (there’s an extra engine!) and they have more shields, weapons, and armor. A lot more badass than a normal wimpy T-head. And since this one is associated with the Association of Free Traders (a giant pirate guild) I can gleefully attack it, since, after all, no one cares if a pirate is blown up or not. Except maybe the pirate. And the pirate’s family. But that’s irrelevant, since being a pirate automatically means that you’ve already sold out your entire family for some soup and a magazine of... you know.
After a mighty battle, I successfully disabled and captured the renegade pirate. Not too shabby! My first capture of the game. Well, actually, second, but the Leviathan doesn’t count since it was blown out of the sky(space?) before I could land. ...Anyway, in a private ceremony, I named the ex-pirate Sam. Behold...SAM THE PIRATE!
With Sam dutifully tagging behind me, I jumped into Alphara. Or, rather, I tried to jump to Alphara.
Asteroids can’t really hit you and cause damage. But some asteroids are freakin huuuge! Which is bad for everyone except Asteroid miners, who, in the face of such gargantuan asteroids would gleefully cackle with mad laughter and zap away with their puny asteroid lasers and collect opals and whatnot and sell it and do it again and again and again and again and again and again until they have enough money to buy a leviathan and equip it with asteroid collecting equipment and zap away at some asteroids and collect opals and whatnot and do it again and again and again and again until they realize “Hey, this is boring. What now?”
In order to mine asteroids, you gotta take a good freighter, and shoot some asteroids. When they blow up they release tiny little rocks that hold various things like opals, water, metal, etc. Not all asteroids hold minerals, though.
Doing a ship scan of the ships in Alphara, my mouth quickly went from a grim slash to a feral grin. The system was full of Auroran ships...and my blasters were topped off and in the green. Well, when I say full, I mean that there were two Auroran ships, an Abomination and a Cruiser, which looks like a giant...
The AA and the AC both sucked. With a gritty “Arrr!” Sam set off to obliterate both ships.
Victory! I had vanquished the foes. Well, actually Sam and the various Federation ships did most of the work. I just sat on the planet so I could quickly land in case any major threat came near.
With a “What took you so long, Sam?” and a “You slowpoke, my grandmother can kill Auroran warships faster than you,” I found myself surrounded by a sea of blue dots. Which is good!
Phew. Well, that was rather easy. With Sam the Pirate solemnly lumbering behind, I jumped back to Sol. Having nothing better to do, I checked the Bar at Earth to see if any mission storylines would pop up. And lo and behold: this stupid Irishman named Michaleen (Wow, the Irish are still alive. I would've thought they died out to potato famines and alcoholic poisoning a long time ago) was getting into a stupid Irish fight at a stupid Irish bar, where an extremely hot Irish lady with blazing crimson Irish hair poured Irish cream into beautiful hand-crafted Irish glasses using her magnificent Irish-
...
BRB, gotta go take a cold shower and a lie down. In the meanwhile, READ THE TEXT!!
Not knowing that Dagomar would take the same plotline and report it infinitely better than I would, I accepted the mission to take him back to his homeplanet, New Ireland in the Tuatha system (what the word Tuatha has in common with Ireland is beyond me) and attend a wedding. Of course I would accept! A big, strong, burly, rugged man like Michaleen would have a great asset...uh...I mean...would BE a great asset. Be. Yeah.
Uh...LOOK!
Okay, as you get that giant spider off your face, I’ll continue.
Here’s how it went. After saying yes to Michaleen (what kinda fruit names their fruit son a fruit name like Michaleen?) I went off to Alphara to try to get more space battle pictures. Why? Because I thought I should get more space battle pictures.
This proved to be hard, because blasters at close range don’t really have much of a traveling time and are not very awe-inspiring, since one can only see one or two lasers at a time. Another thing was that I liked capturing ships too much.
The first battle I had was with an Auroran Abomination, which I like to think of as the Auroran counterpart to the Federation Gunboat. Fast, armored, and deadly, the AA packs fusion pulse turrets and turreted railguns. Which, of course, is just a lot of hot steam when you compare it to the fact that Sam the Pirate Thunderhead > j00. Sam quickly disabled the Abomination using his patented Thunderhead Lance, which is, basically, a blaster that you have to hit someone with. After I boarded, Sam and I trudged into the ship. I nodded to Sam.
Sam brought out his blaster and waved it vigorously. He snarled at the nearest Auroran crew member, and shot him in the foot.
I asked the crew who their captain was.
A savagely tattooed man stepped up. He defiantly told me that he was, indeed, the captain. I shook my head and told him he was wrong.
Sam shot him in the foot as well, then grabbed him by the neck and flung him in the cargo bay.
I turned back to the crew and asked if anyone had a second guess.
One tentative hand shot up. He stated that I was his captain.
I grinned. He was right.
I left for the Tuatha system. When I got there, I encountered a fabled legend from Irish history…
WILLIAM WALLACE!!!!
Wow. I thought he died already.
*whisper whisper*
Wait, William Wallace isn’t Irish? He’s Scottish?
*whisper whisper*
Bah, what’s the difference?
*whisper whisper*
Scots are more guttural? Who told you that?
*whisper whisper*
Oh, some college girl from camp, right? Humbug.
*whisper whisper*
shut up
*whisper whisper*
I SAID SHUT UP
*whisper whisper*
What? You killed my father? Prepare to die! Yarr!!!!!
*panicked whisper*
Oh. Go away.
*relieved whisper*
Uh...who was that whispering you ask? Well, let me explain by saying- LOOK!
Okay, as soon as you get that spider off your face, we’ll continue. Got it off? Great!
As soon as I landed on New Ireland I was assaulted by a multitude of text boxes. AAIEEE!!!
Okay, so the weird Irishman (who does NOT have a great asset...not that I would know...stop looking at me like that) wants me to take him to Earth so he can collect his weird Irish Thunderhead.
And why the heck would he call me a Musha? Is that like moo-shoo? Would any of the Irish people reading this br who are not offended by my lame Irish jokes tell me what in the world is a musha?
I plot my course for Sol! Making three quick jumps, I erupt into the Sol system, and just as I land to earth, I am jolted by an unnerving message:
Woah, someone actually wanted to talk to me! With a furtive glance at Sam, who shrugged back at me, I opened a comm channel to the ship, glad that I could have a friend. I thought of the marvelous adventures the pilot of the Galadriel would have with me, the friend I could have, the wonderful, whimsical joy we could have as we exchanged jokes...
My dreams were crushed. All I got was
and
Sigh. Things like this make me cry. See, in EV:N, one of the major things that bug me is how these random ships say “Ahoy, !” and when you talk to them they just say the same boring old thing as other people. Sam gave me a virtual pat on the back. I thanked Sam.
Then, I got messaged again! By another terrapin! Oh, joy!
Hmm...a job, you say? An...Italian Job? Ho, ho, ho, I make great puns.
Now, when someone gives you a comm looking like this, it’s usually an escort mission where you have to beat up some pirate viper and land on some planet, and the terrapin pays you. Actually, you don’t have to beat up the pirate viper, you can just wave it off and land with about .0002 damage to your shields. Or, alternatively, you could quickly and effectively own it so badly that its entire family hurts, providing that he still has one. Though he probably doesn’t, since being a pirate automatically means that you’ve already sold out your entire family for some soup and a magazine of... you know.
In this case, we had to go to Rigel III, and it was 40k payment. I asked Sam whether we should go, and he shrugged back at me, which is his way of saying “Sure, why not?” Good ole Sam.
Anyway, I plot the course to the system, but unfortunately, I run out of juice and can’t make the final jump. Sheesh! But, as I turned around to land at the planet in system, I get a distress call!
What!? Someone is attacking a fellow frigate?! How dare they! With a righteous fire in my heart, I led the charge from the back and told Sam, the Terrapin captain, and Joe, the pilot of the Abomination, to attack the...wait...what was attacking my frigate comrade again? Oh, right, a Pirate Valkyrie.
As you can see here, a Federation Destroyer had already moved to intercept the pirate, taking all the blows but not backing off. Like a gentle, hulking 800 ton giant. Who has eighty hundred ka-billion weapons of mass destruction, any of which could instantly vaporize the United States and send George Bush screaming for a pre-emptive counter-attack.
Also, notice that, in the picture above, the Terrapin that I’m escorting seems to have absorbed and assimilated Sam. This is weird. Beyond weird. I thought Sam was my friend.
Excuse me while I sob in my room, or, more accurately, in my pillow, as my best friend goes to the prom with some floozy he found on the street, or, more accurately, in space.
Filled by the selfless act of this Destroyer, I vehemently screamed out my incomprehensible, intelligible, yet effective battle cry: YOUR MOTHER WEARS ARMY BOOTS!!11
Advancing on the Valkyrie, the part of my mind which thinks by itself when I’m doing something worthwhile, and could be used for more productive purposes, thought "Why the heck isn’t that Destroyer helping me?"
then I thought "He’s probably going to obliterate me when I obliterate the valk,"
then I thought "When’s dinner?"
But, much to my surprise, the Destroyer WASN’T being lazy...it had been disabled by the Valk in that flurry of blasterfire earlier! With a wicked, wicked grin I moved lazily to board the huge destroyer, pride of both the Rebel forces and the Federation. I couldn’t believe my luck!
pleeeaaaasseeee let me cap it, please please please please please please pretty please? with a cherry and six asian mail-order-brides on top?
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!
I, of course, take it as my ship.
What new adventures await me and my brand-new good-as-gold Federation Destroyer? Will Michaleen ever be taken to Sol? Will I ever master the art of feng shui? Will iNsOm ever get a grip on reality and realize that someone who types soemoen and WTF WHOS THE N00B NOW BITCH NUKING IS SO GAY U ANAL FREAK WELL NOW I KNOW WHERE U R FUCK HEAD is NOT a better reporter than Dagomar or BlueRibbon? Besides, BlueRibbon gains extra points because of that nearly nude woman in the end. Of course, points are taken off because the woman was nearly nude.
In the meanwhile, here’s Britney Spears’s head on Dag’s body. Stare at it while I create the third installament of… Boldly Going Where Other People Have Already Gone Before: An Escape Velocity: Nova Report!
The author apologizes for the incredibly stupid, stupid humor and the tasteless Irish jokes in the above report. He must've been high on something. | |
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