|Madness is a Gift. This is the box it comes in.|
Hi! I’m Bob! I’m a Swedish/Spaniard bisexual male. I’m a botanist (yes flowers -fuck you if you don't like it), major in biology, and I am not your fucking shield!
No Feminist sub-human animal (Dig on sum of your own terminology ) represents nor speaks for me!
You don’t own me.
Who I am and what I say are valid.
My race is valid.
My gender is valid.
I am valid.
As a bisexual I do not “belong in a gas chamber” as feminists have suggested.
My human rights matter. The opinions of fascists don’t.
I am NOT against gamers (I am one) I think Feminists are bullshit, and I can make up my own damn mind about what does and does not offend me. But you know what does offend me? Racist Feminist assholes! Particularly when they try to “represent me.” They cannot. No Nazi can. I sincerely hope feminists wise the hell up and try reading books instead of burning them.
Behold the Dragon Thopter! In all it’s winged majesty!
Built using a very unique blend of traditional and biologically inspired mechanics! The first and most striking feature of the Dragon Thopter being is its marvelous translucent wings! These wings are cast from light but durable “soft” or “smart” plasticized metal fibers. Essentially artificial molecular spider’s silk, bundled with electroactive weaves. These weaves are what give the wings their ability to mimic the subtle movements of both dragonflies and birds. They can mimic bees too if the situation so suits them.
Thopters are lightly armored attack aircraft meant almost solely for ground support. They are useful because they can move like jets or maneuver like a dragonfly. Meaning they can dart from side to side, fly backwards, or even hover in place. Thopters also have twin jet engines for long distance travel and for rainy/windy weather. While lightly built- Thopters are plated with a thin Harden Quartanium shell. This paneling makes them surprisingly difficult to shoot down on the first pass. As a result they make good close range bombers.
Weight is still considerably limited- so most Thopters are only fitted with small but destructive weapons. Baton bombs (8), Iron Rod missiles (3). Small but highly explosive things. So ammo costs are a bit higher than standard. Still- the payload is worth it. Especially when you factor in the main guns. A pair of Shaletanium machine guns. Mean weapons! Shaletanium weapons are a favorite among many armies because of the horrible damage they inflict. They are basically high velocity – high explosive rounds that explode into jagged superheated chunks. These chunks are known for ricocheting around and hitting people. Like a cross between a bomb and a shotgun. They make short work of infantry and light vehicles. Worse- the spent Shaletanium bits have a tendency to bounce and spin around the floor for a couple of minutes after exploding. This causes additional collateral damage. Particularly to infantry.
In fact all infantry fear Thopter flybys. Even the Solack hate them! And with good reason. Thopters don’t just scrape lines of enemy soldiers – they mutilate them! Turing forces scurrying for cover into charred wreckage and blood splatters. Thopter pilots know that infantry fear them. And they know the damage they can do. Naturally if a Thopter pilot spots a line of enemy infantry. They WILL swing around and spray them just to maintain their fearsome cruel image. Thopter pilots in are often selected from those who are known to be sadistic. Unfortunately they are also not known for being very selective of their targets. It’s not unheard of for a Thopter to purposefully spray schools, hospitals, homes, or civilians in general. That’s women and children. Suffice it to say – Thopter pilots often get a bad rap. Deserved or not…
Aside from the cost of ammo a Thopter team is actually exceptionally cheap! Cheaper in fact than a set of standard light tanks. Which makes Thopters popular with armies on a budget. Pirates, bandit gangs, but even the Solack and Catato like to fly these. Cheap fast and highly maneuverable the Thopter is an excellent weapon of war. It’s only major drawback being the lack of an ejection seat. So if you go down, you’re basically gonna die… And Thopters are known to be susceptible to anything that can gum up or burn the engines/wings. Such as tar flack, plasma flack, photon flares, and anti-air fractal lasers. A few bursts of those will cause most Thopter flights to scatter or turn around. Again- with good reason!
Overall you might think Thopters are related to jets. But the truth is they are more closely related to helicopters. Though a Thopter is vastly more maneuverable and well armed than most helicopters. You can’t tell by looking at them. But Thopters trace their origins back to ancient earth. In particular to the “huey” helicopters of the Vietnam war. American. Thopter design grew from that archetype. Everything about them may have evolved into something entirely different. – But they were born of that faithful design nonetheless. A model of efficiency and reliability. Thopters may be stripped to their bones in comparison to other aircraft in the Core Galaxy. But they are the elemental flying machine. To this day, they are mostly flown by humans. The final form a fusion of man made air power and nature. Beautiful! As graceful as they are effective. 200 years have past since their creation. Much of their components have changed. But the overall deign of the basic Thopter has not. There is simple none better. It’s not uncommon to see flights of 30 or 40 of them at a single time. Although smaller teams of 3 are a much more common sight.
In all the Thopter is an invaluable weapon of “causal” warfare. Both cheap and good. And also damn good looking to boot!
Dragon Thopters - Concept, Stories, and Art © Infinity Unbound
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Ok so before we start.. YES. This is still Chops the Shape-Shifter- Her- infinityunbound.deviantart.com… This is just her furry form. As requested by I should note that he specifically asked that she NOT wear her hat. But.. Chops said in not so many nice words that he could go fornicate himself… Annnd that’s Chops for you…
Anyway- this is her Furry form. While in it she likes to be called Fur Chops the Grey. She chose that name after watching a certain rings related movie trilogy. About 10 times… Since then she’s become partial to roaming around Tromili’s house at SunRain Valley and- well… I’m not sure how to put this so let me just call it what it is. Chops has been sneaking around and eating random parts off of mechs and jets. Much to the chagrin of Tromili whom still has no clue what the hell is going on.
In particular she ate the left Gravity Unit off the wings of one of the Alara fighter jets in the hanger. Along with some engine parts and some of the left shard laser components. Basically everything expensive… In all she now weighs about 5 tons in highly compressed material. But because of the Feydium in that Gravity Unit, she only weighs about 275-340 lbs. in measurable weight. The method to this madness can be found in her newly acquired “wizard” powers. She can perform all sorts of (magic tricks) with her new gear. –Or at least give the very convincing illusion that she can, anyway… Truthfully there is no true magic, just exotic arcane technology. And Chops, er… “Fur Chops the Grey” takes advantage of everything she can get her grubby little tentacles on. And she does indeed put it all to interesting use.
For example- She uses the Feydium ring’s gravitational distortion field to give the illusion that her glowing staff has magical telekinetic powers. Like the ability to lift someone into the air. Or more likely- to pick them up and slam them on the ground a few times. That coupled with the energy shield off that jet and that canalized shield battery, really make her quite powerful. And of course by virtue of just being her Shifter self- she can shoot lightening, fire, ice bolts, whatever she wishes to complete the effect. She’s a fraud in that aspect. But she loves to play the role of a powerful and mysterious grey wizard to those easily fooled by parlor tricks. –Usually religious folk…
And Chops being Chops, she takes advantage of them all for profit and power. Something Tromili disapproves of. And Tromili is pretty much the only thing holding Chops back from taking things too far or randomly killing people for shits and giggles. Chop gaining a taste for killing for fun, pretty much being what Tromili had feared the most. It’s very easy for Shifters to kill. And kill brutally with little to no effort. Something Vexovok is known for. And something Tromili to the best of his abilities tries to train out of Chops. Chops whom has come far from the sweet innocent little blob of tin she used to be. And not necessarily in a good way. In truth she takes too much after her master Tromili now. She’s become cruel and indifferent to other “lesser” life forms. Violent and spiteful for what humans did to her in the past. In truth she’s as far from the humble and kind grey wizard she tries to take after as one can get. Yet she’s always kind and loving to Tromili. And at least grudgingly respectful to his friends.
Before all this – she never used to take humanoid form for anyone but Tromili. Now she openly flaunts her body. Amused that Furries are a “clothing optional” race. Which allows her to manipulate and even hunt down males for food. Oh indeed... Don’t let her voluptuous appearance fool you. She’s still an ice cold flesh eating carnivore. That’s right… Shifters eat human flesh. Chops eats people. And among her antics she has managed to amass quite some fame in a short period of time among more simple folk of various worlds, as being a powerful fearsome sorceress. Understandably so, most of those people have a somewhat negative view of her. They respect her power but generally don’t welcome her presence at all. Worse is the fact they have no idea what she truly is. Many believe she really is a wizard of the Furry race. Sparking unfounded beliefs in magic and sorcery where there was none. That mistaken rekindling of superstitious fears causes a ton of societal problems… Executions for suspected dark sorcery, witch hunts, you name it. And Chops is much the cause of it all.
Now that’s not to say Chops never does anything good. She does like to play the hero from time to time. Helping others –usually to combat a hostile force. But that’s about it. She fights her own battles now. Completely independent of Tromili’s guidance or knowledge. And despite the fact that she usually helps the Furries- she eats them too. And just to prove she’s and equal opportunity offender, she also eats Myjikaa on occasion. Really- she just enjoys the action of ambushing her prey, pinning them down, then eating them alive while they scream and twist in pain. And since she’s in truth a large bulletproof monster from another galaxy… She can pretty much do as she pleases. I mean, what the hell can you really do? Shoot her? That does absolutely nothing. Cut her in half? Give you 2 reasons why that’s a horrible idea… Both named Chops. In all there are very few things that can harm a grown Shifter. Still- she’s not completely invulnerable. And for that matter, she does love to spend an awful lot of time as a fighter jet lately. It is possible she takes more risks as she grows the complexity of her form.
In the meantime- Fur Chops the Grey she shall remain.
Oh- and that skimpy little grey vest she has covers noting… Also- that’s not actually a hat…
Fur Chops the Grey - Concept, Stories, and Art © Infinity Unbound
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Or any other forms of stealing
Ancient God of Deceit and Temptation…
Tratoss is a curious entity… It’s not so much of a person as it is an item. (It) is the essence of malice that takes whatever form it can claim. For though powerful- in the end it is still little more than a mask. Thus is it bound to need of finding a physical body to feed on and to bear it. The mask itself consumes it’s wearer and adds the ill will of it’s host to that of it’s own. To survive it must feed off of whatever life form is dumb enough to claim it as their own. Gullible or blind enough to give into it’s empty promises of power.
For whomever puts Tratoss on- becomes the interment of vengeance and spite. The victim is usually someone timid with low self-esteem. Someone who has been wronged in the past and dreams of revenge on individuals or society. Someone powerless and weak.
The perfect prey!
Tratoss will sing to the minds of his victims and fill their heart with dreams of revenge and power. The mask itself – calls to the minds of all beings of every race, and makes their soul burn with unquenchable passions, desires, and a lust for power. Tratoss also speaks to his soon to be victims in dreams- calling… Always calling. With lies of immortality and absolute power! Enough to overwhelm anyone with even the slightest weakness or doubt in their heart. For Tratoss is a master of temptation. Greed is his herald, his tool, his way. And with it he takes his willing victims. However- they and they alone must choose to put him on. He cannot force anyone to do so.
And these visions that dance wildly in their heads – filling their dreams with fantasy and pleasure- are all a part of Tratoss’s master plan. Filled with many a glittering promises that twinkle and shine like rare gemstones, in the eyes of the misguided fool whom dares to put Tratoss on. But the words of Tratoss are not but half truths and exaggerations. For whomever puts the mask on also becomes slave to the parasite that is Tratoss. Whatever semblance of humanity or an individual spark is slowly eaten- consumed utterly until not but the host’s worst intentions remain.
Thus the soul of the unfortunate victim is put through the crucible. Their very core is mutilated – their spark of life and all that is good is burnt away in hellfire until the pure product is unleashed. The impurities of compassion and righteousness gone- The remaining being is now made a perfect vessel for Tratoss to take over.
The deed done- the empty body will be shown no mercy. It will be twisted, trapped – inside a cage of darkness that grows around it… In the past - loved ones have tried removing the mask of Tratoss from those dear to them. Only to find in horror that no face remains underneath. There is not but twisted blackened bones, ash, and torn rotten flesh left under the thick panels of armor and bandages. Their loved ones are gone- ashes and bones are all that remain. There own ill will being all that that holds the body together.
For the truth is Tratoss never becomes one with his host- he consumes their very being, heart, mind, and body. Their ill will may become one with Tratoss- But their soul is destroyed. Harvested for power- for the worst elements of the human spirit.
Originally- Tratoss was one of the servants of the void. And a mighty servant was he. Keen in the arts of the subversion of life. One can think of him a bit like a dark angel. He was sent long ago when the universe was young to fulfill the will of the void. His physical incarnation was the product of human greed, and Solack folly. Tratoss was brought into the ancient world of man on their homeworld of Terra long ago, by a tribe of foolish humans. They had long desired the power to conquer and rule their enemies with an iron fist. An unnamed demon – traded them Tratoss for the soul of their chieftain’s first born son. …And that of the chieftain himself… So in the dark of night lit only by a pale green fire a demonic ritual was preformed – the human sacrifice made. And the lie was complete… The entire tribe was never seen again. Only one foreign slave remained to tell the tale. He simply said they were “taken away.” After that night- He never smiled again.
Through the centuries Tratoss passed from host to host tearing a path of destruction across human history from the shadows. Until at last it was used as a weapon to combat the Solack after the first Torvo War. There it was unleashed onto the Solack.
But it was the right weapon for the wrong race. Long have the Solack dealt with and employed so called “metaphysical weapons.” Technology that harnessed the power of electrochemical signals, pheromones, and ultra-sonic waves to influence and control the minds of others. Items that used seemly magical powers of an unknown technology –far beyond the comprehension of most people. Things that man called magic- but the Solack called exotic technology. They knew that things which seemed dubious and whimsical often had a very real- very cold origin. And creators that operated on principles the Solack knew little to nothing of. Such relics were consistently dangerous. The Solack didn’t take the bait…
And so Tratoss was press ganged into the service of the Solack Empire’s Omega Weapon Project. A plot to make a type of super soldier more powerful than an entire army.
The greater Super, Ultra, Giga, and eventually the Ultimate Weapon projects did indeed produce an army of super soldiers to match the already all powerful race of biomechanical living weapons that was the Solack. But it was long ago realized that their great power was unpredictable and ultimately uncontrollable.
Likewise- the new Omega weapon project eventually failed… Worse was the fact that of all the many attempts to copy and harness the powers of Tratoss… Only one was ever successful. And the wearer of that mask became equally unhinged as the wearers of Tratoss.
Since the Omega project’s failure- Tratoss vanished from the eyes of the Solack. Never to be seen again by the only people whom even came close to knowing it’s true power. The reasons Tratoss left were many. But above all others was his new rival.
Tromili… Ultimate Weapon of the Solack Empire. . . God of Hate? Insufferable! Tratoss had little choice but to confront this false god born in a test-tube by mortal hands. What right did Tromili have to the title of god? And what mockery was it to toss Tratoss aside in all his demonic glory- For what? Some bastardized demon of science? No! That could not be allowed to stand! Since the day of his disappearance, Tratoss set out on a matter of personal vengeance. Vendetta! A call to destroy the so called Ultimate Weapon claimed to be stronger than any demon of old.
But unlike Tromili whom is an Ultimate Weapon, Tratoss never became more than a meager Omega Weapon. A failed project to replace super weapons. While physically stronger than a Super Weapon – Tratoss has less power than an Ultra or Giga Weapon. Making Tratoss at best 3 levels under Tromili’s final abilities. This leaves Tratoss to be mainly a threat to Tromili only while he was still young. As Tromili grew in raw brute force Tratoss no longer sought to directly engage Tromili in combat- for obvious reasons.
(It would be like bitch slapping an attack dog with a locomotive.)
At that point Tratoss used more intellect that barbarism to foil Tromili and cause devastation. This is when Tratoss’s plotting ability truly began to materialize.
Tratoss is very interesting as he is almost without any emotions other than mania. He never feels sadness or fear. Only craze. –Only Bloodlust served with bone chilling laughter. He doesn’t pair up with anyone for love or lust- he feels neither. He never wants nor needs anything other than bloodshed. He exists only to destroy. -Hollow and unfeeling.
Whenever he is killed his mask calls to a new victim. With voices and nightmares that can drive a normal person to insanity. Whoever’s fool enough to put the mask on will become the new body of Tratoss. –Their personality dissolves along with their flesh as their eyes and organs begin to rot off- replaced by, something else… They lose themselves and their humanity in the end. For in the end there will only ever be Tratoss. And his will, be done.
Tratoss serves a doppelganger role in the most classical sense as the evil in Tromili’s will made flesh. – He will appear at every crossroad when Tromili chooses the path of unmitigated good for a prolonged period of time. Tratoss thus becomes a shadow- a reminder of the darkness in Tromili’s soul. Tratoss keeps to a gratuitously violent and psychopathic nature, killing simply for pleasure. Tratoss can and does come up with very elaborate plots to affect mass killings –but seemly prefers random and unwarranted acts of violence such as shooting his own accomplices or destroying his own forces. The more carnage and suffering he can inflict the more powerful he becomes.
Yet in the end. He is hollow. Just. A. Mask. An Idea. A piece of humanity itself. But perhaps not entirely beyond redemption? For what is a single piece of anything, but a shard of a greater whole. And if one can find the other aspects of anything- Can one not become whole?
Maybe… Just Maybe…
Tratoss - Concept, Stories, and Art © Infinity Unbound
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Or any other forms of stealing
Inspired by the latest meeting by Republican leaders in America with the actual Ku Klux Klan to discuss the "Tea Party platform" .
– Only the stupid seek to gain favor with the devil. Good Christian morals from the Bible, indeed! I can see now how you TeaTards are obviously morally superior to all those gays, blacks, and atheists you hate so much. *Rolls eyes*
The Boar Battle Armor is the moldy bread and rancid butter of the Teabagger Confederacy. Or you can just call them the Tea Party if you like. The TEA in Tea party is an acronym meaning :
A reference to their belief that after the age of 10 all education is simply “socialist indoctrination.” Because of this belief system, the people of the Tea Party Confederacy are all a little… Retarded. No really- They are not only stupid, but far slower at learning than any other race. Even slower than those races made of stone. Meaning rocks are literally faster learners than Republicans. In the end everything the Teatards make is garbage just like they are. Even in a universe where they are surrounded by advanced technology that can fold space and defy gravity– garbage is the best the Teabaggers can make. The Boar Suit is no different.
Slow, stupid, and wobbly – the Boar Suit waddles it’s way into combat to fight against equality and racial diversity. It’s powered by burning a mix of coal and moonshine in a pitiful wreck that I guess you could call an engine… Made of whatever scraps happen to be around the trailer park. It’s armed with crude improvised shrapnel cannons and a jury rigged flamethrower that has a nasty tendency to explode- killing it’s user. To top that off- in order to fit the generally “fat beyond all fucking reasoning” asses of Republicans - the suits are often fitted with a large propane tank for a gut. Making the suits as fat and ugly as the Republican pilots themselves. In fact it’s the suit’s proportions and weight problems that make it so difficult for the armor to move quickly. The fat gut often makes the suit trip over itself- or causes the legs to break off. Since the Tea Party frowns on education- the weight distribution of the suits are often uneven, giving them their comical wobble. Subsequently, their mechanics have no idea how to fix this laughably simple problem. No really- several children from Drinking Gourd have even tried to offer the mechanical solution to Teabagger’s armor problem out of pure pity for how stupid and pathetic the Republicans are. But those children were black. So the Teabaggers completely ignored the communications. So the problem remains to this day.
The name of the game here is quantity over quality. Boar Suits can be slapped together in a redneck garage assuming it has access to a machine shop. Because the Boar Suit is such a shitpiece, the Tea Party has to send them in by the dozens in order to use them to any effect. Even so- any weak artillery can take large amounts of them out with a single shot. The real threat that a Boar Suit poses is the amount of ammo and energy wasted in fighting them all. Ammo that could have been spent fighting significant threats is wasted fighting back tank spam. Given how cheap and easy Boar Suits are to both build and salvage – an unprepared enemy commander can find themselves critically low on supplies if not careful. This is just one of the Tea Party leadership’s many ways of sneaking up on an overconfident opponent. The Tea Party may be comprised of inbred retards but the puppet master pulling the strings of the hate group turned 3ed world nation – isn’t. Although there is still a ton of stupidity to go around in the Tea Party.
Boar Suits are the weapon of choice for the gang of illiterate self-appointed border patrol volunteers that call themselves the Minutemen. Named for a human militia group from ancient Earth. However… It’s amusing to note that the Solack call them the Minutemen because they take about a minute for the Solack to kill. Among the Minutemen - the Boar Armor assumes the role of intimidator. The assumption being that a large battle armor will scare off any Space Mexicans that may try to pass through Teabagger territories. But this like so many Teatard beliefs is sadly mistaken. In reality the Boar is so clumsy and shoddily built that the Space Mexicans have made them into a game they call “trip the gringo”
The object of the game is to get a Boar Suit to notice you then give chase. Since the armors are so slow and stupid this is not very hard to do. A point system is then applied to determine who is the best at getting the clumsy armors to accidentally fall over or fall apart. This sport is seen as being similar to bull fighting in the sense that it’s pitting brave men called “matadors” against a dumb animal- in this case a Republican Teabagger.
The point system is as follows:
Suit falls over- 1 point
Get a suit to run right past you- 3 points
Suit’s shins break off- 5 points
Suit overheats and explodes- 10 points
Suit attempts to use flamethrower that backfires and explodes- 15 points.
Getting one Suit to fire on another Suit- 20 points.
First to 25 wins!
This game is highly favored by the Solack in addition to the Space Mexicans. The Solack often compete as well. To do so they must wear no armor and use no weapons other than the traditional ones provided. (A matador’s outfit, an ornate red cape, and decorated EMP spears for the final kill) –A fusion saber is also provided for major shows and championships. The matadors themselves are idolized and revered for their bravery and prowess, by both Mexican and Solack alike. When they win the crowds watching at home go wild! When they are killed it’s often a national tragedy. But considered “just part of the game.”
One of the most famous matadors was Jesus Marques. Who killed 15 Boar Armors at once before being slain himself. His name is considered almost sacred by the Solack. His image in stone is synonymous with bravery. Every year people of many races come to lay flowers on his tomb and offer food to his spirit. This is of course symbolic – but it still remains one of the Solack and Space Mexican’s most beloved traditions. A trail of beautiful red roses leads from his tomb to his childhood villa not too far away.
On a similar note- It’s not uncommon for the Solack to donate large amounts of money in secret to the Minutemen group in order to keep the massacre going. They are then instructed by the Solack representatives to buy and use only ATVs and Boar Armors. The Minutemen think the agents giving them this money are doing so because they are patriots supporting their “righteous cause” of racial purity. In reality the Solack only do it to watch the Minutemen get humiliated and killed. But so goes the game.
One way or another, the Boar Suit has earned a place in history – although not as the Tea Party would have liked it. This greasy grimy smelly pile of junk is thus noteworthy. On a side note: The Cliven Bundhole Klan also used Boar armors. Both at their defeat at the hands of the Tylox, and again at the showdown on Planet Bundhole. Both events were embarrassing defeats.
Teatard Boar Armor © Me!
Hell on Water Libertarians & Seasteading CH 1
Selfishness in space!
Shortly after the Sacking of Rand, the Randist refuges found themselves adrift in space.
They had no choice but to flee planet Rand or be enslaved or slaughtered by the American “liberators” that had been sent by the government to loot the world and subjugate it’s people. Normally- there would have been a contingency plan for such an event. A readymade fleet of transports and escort ships to shuttle refuges off world. But The Randists were Republican leaning Libertarians to the core. They believed it was everyone else’s problem to prepare for such an event! So they never cooperated and thus never came up with an evacuation fleet. And so the survivors of Rand were few. Jammed onto whatever rusty converted cargo ships were planetside at the time. Only the rich 1% of the population had actual transport ships. And that was a trivial few. In total the refugee fleet had about 27 medium starships for the entire planet. For reference most meager backwater worlds have about 30 large active cargo vessels at a time in fleet. –At minimum. It’s well know that Libertarians do have decent technology on par with just about anyone else. But their backwards system of beliefs ensures that such technology is extremely rare, and available to only a privileged few. Since the poor have no money in Libertarian society- there is no economy that would warrant mass production of high-tech products. This permanently cripples the availability of new tech. And so something as grand as even a simple starship was a treasure few and far between.
But it wasn’t just lack of ships… There was the problem of the Libertarians themselves. By far a Libertarian’s worst enemy is themselves. During the escape many Libertarians ran price gouging and rescue scams until the last second. Libertarians believe that price gouging is a perfectly moral act that is part of their so called “free market.” And by that they mean free of any laws protecting people from scams or over pricing rackets. Even during major emergencies. Libertarians don’t care. Selfishness is their religion. “Let the buyer beware!” – Their unholy creed. So it was little surprise that many overbooked seats and outright scammed many people out of their money by selling fake tickets at outrageous prices. Many of the scammers used this money to buy there own tickets out of there. Many died so a few criminals could live. But that’s Ayn Rand Capitalism. What Libertarians call “pure morality.” In the end it was messy- but some of the Randists did manage to flee into space. Now- the concept of spinning aimlessly through the endless cosmos means different things to different people…
For the newly freed Solack it was bliss. They were perfectly contented to remain in space until long after they had repaired and rearmed their forces. Being a cooperative race by design – The Solack were built for colony life. The average Solack is driven by a need to create. A need to better not only himself- but the lives of everyone in his or her colony. They even have a limited hive mind that allows them to plan on the same page – but also to feel empathy for other Solack. This compassion for others along with their need to create and improve the colony is much of the reason why the Solack are the dominant race in the Core Galaxy. Thus they simply took to life on the go as a teenager took to a road trip. The Solack were so carefree they often played a waltz over the intercom systems and spent days adrift. –Relaxing as they watched the stars and galaxies in the heavens dance across the vastness of space.
But in the end things went too far- and they became complacent out in space. Much to the chagrin of their Furry traveling companions. In fact the Furries often popped in for visits on the Solack, whom were becoming fatter and fatter every month as they did nothing but eat, harvest space debris, and build. The Furries treated the Solack like lazy mooching teenagers bumming around the house. The Furries would often protest the Solack’s lack of ambition and complacency. -Much like a parent asking as to when their teenager was going to get a job and get out of the house. It was true the Solack were so happy just being free, they didn’t care much for settling down. But- the Furries eventually managed to convince the Solack to set down roots and get off their lazy butts. An act that the Furries would soon come to deeply regret.
For once the Solack got back into their predatory element – they immediately became hostile and paranoid. In their greed and distrust of other races- they turned on the Furries. Inciting an event that would become known as “The Great Betrayal.” Still- while it lasted – life in space was good for the Solack.
But as for the Randists….
At first many of the Randists survivors believed that opportunity lay ahead in the stars. That the Randists could find a new home in aboard beautifully ornate space platforms. However… It soon became abundantly clear that was not going to happen. The notorious greed and selfishness of the Randists immediately began to bleed through. There are many forgiving environments that allow for a good degree of independence, mistakes, and yes- selfishness. -Space- is not one of those environments… At all… The Solack had an easy time in space because they were so cooperative and caring about one another. They gladly worked together to build and maintain things that they knew would benefit them all. Systems and hardware that were free for everyone to use and have the benefit of. Ensuring an ever growing minimal standard of living for all. This inspired the Solack to build more! To have more! And the more they had- the less work they had to do a day. Every time they expanded or got a system automated they got increasingly powerful. This freed them invent new ways to gain even more for less labor. They were working smart- not hard.
But that isn’t the human way… And it certainly is not the Libertarian way!
The Randists, in classic Libertarian style – cared only about what they could profit off of. And their dog eat dog style of uncontrollable selfishness led to a floating hell hole. All the Randist refugees cared about was ripping each other off. So even traveling in well built ships- death and destruction were inevitable. It has been said many times that the problem with the Libertarian ideology of “Fuck everyone else but me!” –is that to the man standing next to you- You ARE the “everyone else” that is to be fucked over. And that was the root of the Randist’s problems.
The colony, escape, and defense ships that made up the Randist refuge convoy were singular units with standard modular systems. Ordinarily these systems would be ran in unison by a cohesive crew. But many of the wealthy Randists owned and controlled the individual systems. They were entrusted with keeping and maintaining the basic functions of the individual colony ships. Being of the Ayn Rand mentality- they soundly believed that capitalism was best way to run their systems. Therefore they left it up to their most successful business men to work out the details. Ayn Rand and her followers believed that all poor people are stupid and cannot function without the rich to guide them. The rich are therefore “in theory” smarter and more qualified to manage things than anyone else. In the minds of Libertarians- The richer you are, the smarter you must be. But most of the component owners were real-estate tycoons and snake oil salesmen – not engineers or technicians. Acting out of greed they quickly began to come up with ways to profit off their burdens of maintaining systems. No one had ever stopped to wonder if the most wealthy among them may have been so because they were also the most corrupt and immoral. The thought never would have occurred to them. Such rational thought was against the religion of Libertarianism.
And even if someone did figure it out… They wouldn’t have said anything. The last thing anyone wanted to do was receive the death sentence of being labeled “communist” for speaking independently of fascist Libertarian dogma. For a quasi-religion that claims to value “freedom” Libertarians don’t take well at all to dissent or even to speaking freely. You can get in a lot of trouble for expressing yourself or thinking independently. The usual punishment for free thinking among Libertarians is total banishment called “disfellowshipping” where no one is allowed to talk or do any business with you ever again. Basically, after you say anything they don’t like- the Librarians will all gather around you and shout, “You’re Blocked! You’re Blocked! You’re Blocked!” three times. And that’s it! You’re doomed! Cut off with no help from the community. Left for dead…
With thinking like that- It wasn’t long before a wealthy CEO by the name of Barry Mage founder of the digital payment racket “PayBuddy” came up with the idea of selling O2 which had until then been provided by his machines for free. He then proceeded to shut down the entire air supply of the ship. Many other colony ships did likewise. People now had to buy oxygen or die. And many did die. – As a result the colony ships no longer had air. Soon after they didn’t have water either. Then one CEO by the name of Marvin Brigg (founder of Poweron) got the idea to shut off power unless paid by the hour. Soon after the propulsion drive managers shut down the engines and many captains began to demand payment for access to navigation!
In short the Randists were tearing themselves apart like the selfish animals they were! Many ships were now floating around without power. Some ships got lost, drifted into space, and were never seen again. As panic ensued many drew up plans to trade critical services just so they could operate the colony ships. But it was too late… The reactors on several of the colony ships had been running without water for days. Several more were shut down then put into cold start without time to heat up. This caused shorts and massive explosions that destroyed several ships. Shrapnel from the explosions hit many of the others causing severe malfunctions and fatal hull breaches. The few remaining libertarians of Rand now watched as many of their already dwindling population now floated away… Dead in space, floating along vast streaks of wreckage. A path of blood and metal trailing the Randist fools wherever they went. Yet even in these worst of times – the Randists themselves refused to let up on their libertarian ideals. Even the more perverse ones…
A hairy middle-aged fat man in his underwear with his pants around his ankles was struggling to chase down a 6 year old girl as he ran down the corridors yelling, “I gave you that piece of candy! Now give me sex! We had a contract! You signed it! You agreed!” But the little red haired girl was having none of it. She darted off down a hallway and into a dark room where she slammed the door behind her. The door slammed shut on the greasy libertarian child molester’s hand and he let out scream. The heavy armored door took the tips of his fat fingers clean off. He hobbled away cursing and yelling furiously, “When I tell Stuffin Muckamux what you did you’re gonna get disfellowshipped for sure! Just you wait you little brat! A contract is a contract! A is A!”
“A is A…” A term Libertarians often use but are mostly too stupid to understand what it actually implies. But Ayn Rand said it. So they mindlessly repeat it every time they think they are getting ripped off. Ironically the Libertarian belief system is built on the denial of reality. In particular the denial of man’s dishonest and hostile nature. In short- Libertarians in fact DO NOT believe that A equals A. On the contrary- they emphatically deny it. Unfortunately that ability to deny reality is what allows Libertarians to so easily twist and pervert morality itself, in order to suit their own selfish immoral desires. Including the belief that the government has no right to tell a person not to have sex with children. Additionally Libertarians believe that even a child is fully capable of entering into contracts. Even if the child can’t read. They believe that any children old enough to talk can agree to work any job that an adult can. Including prostitution… So if a molester can bribe or trick a child into signing a contract to do something. No one will object to what happens after. Not publicly anyway.
Sadly… If the little girl had parents she might at least have had someone to protect her from predators trying to trick her into signing things she didn’t understand. But her’s died when the air was cut off on her ship about a month ago. Her mother gave the little girl the only small air tank they had. Simmerra. The little girls name was Simmerra. And that incident would not be the last time a Libertarian would curse her name in anger. In the mean time she was indeed in trouble! If the man told anyone she had broken a contract Simmerra would be disfellowshipped and left to die. Thankfully a shoddily made stair well gave way under the fat man’s weight as he wobbled down an old archway. He fell 70 feet to his death onto a pile of rusty ragged metal scraps. He didn’t get the chance to tell anyone… Simmerra was safe for now.
Long had the Randist feared the forces of the American government finding and slaughtering what was left of their people. But the truth was they should have been more concerned about their own kind. But like any libertarian the truth was too toxic to bear. It was far easier to blame the American Government and leave it at that. Yet still… they knew… They knew the REAL reason they were in such pain. And it had to be dealt with. Before their own greed killed them off once and for all. It was unanimous… They HAD to find a new world to settle on! And they needed one with all haste! They were going to kill themselves if they stayed adrift for much longer! They were like cornered cannibalistic animals eating each other alive! And in that most desperate time of need. As if summoned forth by will alone- the cosmic dust settled and their eyes beheld a shining blue gem aside a glittering star. And that beautiful water world they did name…
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