•IC•Wonk_Sauce: Tactics

[Biophysicist]

Salve, d00dz, and welcome to Wonk_Sauce. This is the "IC" thread, but I'll be posting in it as if was an OOC thread, due to the oddities of this RP. Said oddities are related to the fact that this is both an RP and a tactics game, complete with a battle grid (located at the bottom of this post). To do stuff, you move your ship on the battle grid (by pressing the @ corresponding to where you want to move - eg. pressing the @ in the upper-right moves you three squares up and three squares right, with the red one being the center and indicating no movement). After moving, you post what the various crew members on your ship did, in-character, with bonuses being awarded for exceptionally good IC posts. After all ships on a team have moved, I will work out attacks and the movement of fightercraft, after which it is the other team's turn.

In order to use the battle grid, you must be logged in to it. When you're not logged in, you can do so by clicking the login button at the very top (which goes away when you're logged in) and entering the sekrit code I PMed you. (When you are logged in, your ship will be marked with a blue rectangle on the status bar below the battle grid, which also shows HP and, when clicked upon, the damage that various ships do.) In theory, the movement buttons will go away when you're not logged in - this may cause issues with some of the buttons not showing up sometimes, in which case you MUST refresh the page or risk the game processing your order incorrectly.

Now, here's the battle grid: (It's the Psionics Wing's turn right now.)

http://failcomics.byethost8.com/wsloginlink.php
http://failcomics.byethost8.com/wsmain.php
http://failcomics.byethost8.com/wsinfo.php (http://role-player.net/forum/showpost.php?p=337530&postcount=31)
http://failcomics.byethost8.com/wserror.php
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[WordsofWisdom]

Lolcat O'Huru was bored out of his skull.

He had finished flicking the COM ACCESSIBLE button on and off, listening to the static hissing and sparking over the ship's PA system as he went, ages ago, and boredom was seeping into his skull like that green stuff on his mayonaise sandwich that he had given to Lt. Cheezburger three hours ago. Now he was polishing his captain's badge, watching as it flicked and flared in the bridge's dim light.

Ensign Loli Popp was running her manicured nails down the monitor's system for the mail truck summoning machine, letting out a breathy sigh ever once in a while, her face a picture of massive boredom. Lt. Cheezburger, who had no first name due to a mix up in his registration papers, was alert, his cat-like eyes glued to a radar screen, earphones pressed to his ears as he scanned the interactive model. Mike Stern, who lived up to his last name, was grinding his teeth, one hand on the controls for the ship, the other flicking a quarter that he had present, constantly.

Suddenly, Cheezburger stood at attention, turning towards the captain. "Sir, we have bogies on forward radar. It looks like three Psiconics wing ships of varying classes and designs. Shall I hail the Borker and the Dudeoclast, sir?"

Captain O'Huru examined his nails in the dim light. Cheezburger shifted slightly. "Sir?" he prompted again.

O'huru met his eyes. "Oh, you were talking to me?"

Cheezburger nodded.

"What did I say to call me, Ell-Tee?"

Cheezburger gritted his teeth. "Cappy McSmartypants."

"That's better." O'Huru nodded decisively. "Miss Popp, is that doo-hickey... with the thing... primed and ready?"

Loli turned to look at him, her ever bored eyes unblinking. "I guess, sir."

"Wonderiffic. I think. Mr. Stern, can our engines do things?"

"Our engines are constantly doing things. We're in space, so... yes we're capable of movement. Otherwise we'd, you know, be dead."

"That's good. Okay. Well, do that thing you said you were suggesting, Mr. Cheezburger." O'Huru stood from his bridge chair (comfy bridge chair that it was) and flicked the COM channel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our mission is..." He frowned, and then leaned away from the mic, stage-whispering to Cheezburger.

"Ell-Tee, what's our mission again?"

"To find and eradicate all Psiconic's Wing ships in this area for the win."

"To do something regarding radiation and winning." O'Huru said, decisively and with his deep, commanding officer's voice activated. "I expect you all to get to battle stations, as they are on the path to destruction, make their time. For great Justice!"

He sat back in his chair, still using his deep commanding officer's voice. "Mr. Stern, go attack the one that looks closest to a penis, and stay near one of our allies! They have great respect for my skills and could use my awesome." He puffed out his chest in pride.

His bridge crew rolled their eyes. Cheezburger got on the horn.

"This is the F.A.I.L Deliverance, hailing Borker and Dudeoclast. We have three bogie Psiconic's on our radar, requesting assistance with their healer, over."

[Lord Tully]

Captain Iceman was in a world of his own feet up on his control panel with an I-pod eviscerating his eardrums with the Ghostbusters theme tune. His head was bobbing back and forth in a way only an extremely white man's head can when he listens to music when the communications relay rang knocking him out of his Ghostbusters induced stupor.
"It's the Deliverance Cap." Private McQueen informed the captain, "Well put it through you worthless lump!" Iceman shouted as he scrambled to look professional, "I hear you Deliverance," He responded to Captain O'Horu, "Helm, lay in a course to meet up with the Deliverance. Let's get these Psi bastards." This would have been a much more inspiring sequence of events if Captain Iceman hadn't been wearing his bright pink, Hello Kitty *TM* headphones. Private McQueen stifled his laughter at the oddness of the situation long enough to input the coordination and hit the large red "GO" button.

[spirits breath]

Gratin stood on the bridge, Quar on the relays, Billy on the weapons, Lily was in her usual spot in the med lab, perhaps going though the records for her next victim she will be able to hunt down. And romeo, knowing him. He was in the mess hall with some form of food and mad at having to drink water.

"Alright, we need to fiinish loading up our weapons today. I mean, how long does it take to get several hundred missles onto this thing, and fuel it up? Someone siphoning our fuel now too?" Gratin spoke with a sarcastic tone in the mic.

Four paces to the captains chair, and he gave a half spin to face Quar. "Get me a link to the other mailmen. Got to inform them." As he heard a small click, he rounded to face the stars. "Dudeoclast her. We have a few problems with our loading crew and we should be bringing up the rear in this one. We will go for a flank, and try to help prevent a flank from happening if it comes before we get there. Just make sure you don't kill our opponents. We are itching to see some fireworks." he added a light laugh then clicked the relay off.

[Biophysicist]

Turn advanced. It's the Psionics Wing's turn now.

Combat actions taken:
None.

[\/£in]

"Captain," began Larde with a very confused expression. "What in gods name are you doing?"

"Pressing this button," replied Captain Revan, his tone very casual.

"That button is the ships self-destruct sequence."

"Oh," replied Revan making no attempt to quit pressing the button.

"You know, I'm happy that the wiring to that button went bad about a week ago."

The captain stopped and faced Gigo Larde very seriously. "Are you neglecting to do your duties Private!?"

"No-no sir!"

"Then explain to me why this very delicate button is not repaired yet??"

"I didn't see any reason to repair a useless button Captain?"

"It's keeping me amused is it not?"

"That it is..."

"Then it has a use! I order you to fix this damn button immediately."

"Aye Aye Captain!"

Just then the intercom in the room came on.

"Captain, you should see this," came Carters voice.

"See what," asked the Captain but the intercom flicked off before his question could be received. "Oh my god! Why does he do that!?!"

"Sir."

"Private Larde, have this button repaired and fully operational in T-minus...erm...tomorrow."

"T-Minus tomorrow?"

"Just do it private! I will be back down here to test if the button is working."

"And how exactly will you be performing this test," asked Larde very worriedly.

"By pressing the damn thing, you idiot."

The private could say nothing more than "Of Course" as he had already predicted what the answer would inevitably be from his reject captain.

"Now I must make my way to the bridge..."

Revan turned exiting the room as Private Larde quickly retrieved a hammer and began beating the panel the button was placed on all to shit.


Brom was waiting anxiously as the captain entered. He stood immediately and saluted his captain.

"Sir, we have Mailmen!"

"Ooh, maybe I'll get my newest issue of pent-"

"No captain, the other kind of Mailmen!"

"UPS?"

"NOOO! The ones who shoot at us."

"UPS...FROM THE HOOD!?"

"NO! THOSE MAILMEN!"

Just then an image appeared on the screen of incoming Mailmen across the area of space the Psionic Wings fleet was passing through.

"Oh," the captain laughed. "Fed-Ex. I hate those bastards...they lose my mail everytime. BROM! Set course for those stupid sons of bitches!"

Brom couldn't find the strength to argue the captain anymore, he was just relieved that in one way or another the captain realized a threat was approaching.

"Private Larde," the captain talked into the intercom.

"Yes, Captain," came Larde's voice.

"About that button..."

"OH! Captain the button is worst than we thought, it's...brokeded. It'll take me T-Minus Forever to fix it."

The captain sighed, "I was going to say put the button on hold and prepare the weapons."

"Oh good idea captain!"

"Yes it is, I know. Now lets prepare for battle, but afterwards you better have that button fixed no later than T-Minus Forever, as you've said it shall take."

"Oh yes Captain," sighed the private in relief.

The intercom switched from the weapons room and relayed to the whole ship.

"Prepare for battlestations! We are en route to a a group of Mailmen, they are a Fed-Ex fleet carrying much undelivered mail! We shall deliver them with postage into the mouth of hell!"