"So," said the charming young man, by the name of Nastingham Grubbington Carstairs Forkbeard-Johnston, "how is work progressing on the Xenoempathy Dome at Dreams of Green (incredibly brilliant name for a city, by the way)?"

The last one sort of petered out, so I thought to encourage spam - erm, I mean, some activity to this forum, we, well, I, could fire up one of these.
Methinks a scenario would be good to develop... it's MY 2230, pretty far to the game that is. Vendettas are on, the Peacekeepers have subjugated the Morganites, the Progenitors have just landed. That sort of thing. I'm sure at least History Guy will get something written here.
Okay. Starting now!
Once upon a time, in the great communes of Gaia's Landing, Lady Deirdre was having a cup of xenocoffee with a charming young man.
Cake and grief counseling will be available at the conclusion of the test. Thank you for helping us help you help us all!

"So," said the charming young man, by the name of Nastingham Grubbington Carstairs Forkbeard-Johnston, "how is work progressing on the Xenoempathy Dome at Dreams of Green (incredibly brilliant name for a city, by the way)?"
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

"Don't ask me," replied Deirdre, "I'm just the President."
Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

"Well," he replied, "who should I ask then?"

"The Supervisor of the Secret Project" says Science Advisor Piffany Peabody, while entering the environmentaly friendly Conference room in the Headquarters tower in Gaia's Landing.

"Ah, Gruntling...," quacked Deirdre, "Oh sorry, it's Peabody...why don't you feed your mindworms for Nastingham (as he seems to be particularly bored talking about the Xenoempathy Dome)?"
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

"Who the frig is Nastingham", came the confused repkly, "for I do not recall a person of that name, at least none of my acquaintance, only an escaped convict that fled from the Hive after brutally murdering innocent people with plasmasteel pencil-sharpeners."
Cake and grief counseling will be available at the conclusion of the test. Thank you for helping us help you help us all!

"Don't judge him. After all, he only killed seven people!"
Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

"Good point. Besides, they were Hiverians..."

"Talking about Hiverians...when will we test our environmetally friendly fungus bombs?"

As Her Ladyship began to chatter away happily about dropping fungal payloads on innocent civilians, Nastingham hid in the corner and ripped off his mask...revealing him not to be Nastingham Forkbeard-Johnson, but indeed the escaped criminal, Nastingham Selden!
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

As ominous organ music played on a distant astral plane, Nastingham edged towards the elevator.
Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

Nastingham thought to himself philosophically, and then said, "Mhuhahahahahahahahahaha cackle cackle cackle!" as he loaded a shredder pistol, and gripped his defragmentation grenade belt (which Deirdre had failed to notice).
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

His finger was on the trigger when he was interrupted by a very unpleasant voice.
Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

[out of story context] Errr...where are you guys? [/out of story context]
"Welllllllll loooookie here!" called Hoss Grubson, Deirdre's new Alpha Talent, pointing excitedly at Selden's shredder pistol.
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

"That's a geniune antique, that is," he went on, "I ain't seen one of them since before the Unity blew up."

The conversation attracted the attention of an aide, who tried to get Deirdre's attention.
Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

"...Morgan will suffer, do you agree with the plan?" Deirdre asks the aid, and turns to look, seeing a blank face, "What???"

At the same time that Selden aimed his shredder pistol, a dark, evil alien chap sat resonating to himself in Courage : To Question.
Empire growing,
Pleasures flowing,
Fortune smiles and so should you.

Then, before anyone thinks of anything else, everyone in the hears a gunshot...
Last edited by Mellian; January 26, 2003 at 12:43.
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