Like a Battle, But in SPACE! [FT|Big Words|Attn:Entria]

[Birina]

IC:

~Hello there, friend. I'm so happy to be writing with you. After all, you are the only person here who shares my sense of humor, writing style, musculature, grace, and IP address. I look forward to the laughs, tribulations, and entirely appropriate touches we will share in the future~

~Ancient Space Philosopher from Birina

Jaxon began speaking to the assembled crew of the Battle Ship Signalia. Except he wasn't actually speaking to them, but virtual representations of them on a screen; a concept so foreign to the backwater reader that it must be explained in great detail. You see, although the Battle Ship Signalia was far from Birina, Jaxon could communicate with them by beaming his visage across space with a beam of ions (which are called "lightybois") that the BS Signalia was attuned to. They were a special shade of blue that was well past ultra-violet on the lightyboi spectrum. This stream of data would be converted into visuals and sounds that perfectly replicated what Jaxon was recording in complete fidelity.

Now, because you are from the shitty past times, you'd have no idea how awesome this was. There isn't even a concept that you have in your entire archive existence that comes remotely close to this technology. Because of the blue nature of the lightybois beamed from Birina, Birinians referred to this technology as “Blueray”.

Jaxon’s visage projected, via Blueray, to the dutifully assembled men and grudgingly written women of the BS Signalia. Unlike the crew, Jaxon was safe on Birina and not in harm’s way. Unlike the reader, he had a chiseled six-pack.

“Greetings, brave sailors. May your efforts be blessed by whatever deity it is that we believe in. I think we worship windmills or something. It makes my heart swell with emotions, some of which are appropriate, to see the best men and women Birina has to offer in the best ship she could build for the money she was willing to pay. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you and tell you that you’re going to win. I won’t even tell you that you’re going to survive. Hell, I won’t even tell you that in the event of your death that we will honor the payments we committed to make to your surviving families.”

He took a deep breath. He had been talking all this time. The way Birinians communicate, via speech, involves expelling gas from their lungs through flappy bits in order to produce a sound. Some Birinians had additional flappy bits that caused their voices to sound high pitched and nasally. There was an elective procedure that could be undergone to correct this. The procedure also extended a Birinian’s expected lifespan substantially because people didn’t want to fucking kill them as much.

“If you die today, which, in all honesty you almost certainly will, I would ask you to try and die in the most budget-friendly manner possible. If your dying words happen to be the tagline of one of our corporate sponsors, that would be pretty nice too. The good news is, the enemy also only has one ship to throw at this conflict because the rest of their navy is engaged with empires that are way more competent than we are.”

Captain Ulver viewed the Blueray broadcast from his office aboard the Signalia. Oftentimes, the Captain might give a speech to inspire the men and calm their nerves. Other times, a Captain might have a conference with his officers to review their tactics. Obviously, Birinian captains didn’t do any of that shit. They sat in their office completing the vital paperwork that was necessary to engage in battle properly.

Now, given that Birina was a future society, most paperwork was in fact paperless. But Birinian wisdom held that for battles, commencement speeches, and other important events propriety dictated that a tree really ought to die for the occasion. So in this instance, Ulver had physical paper scattered across his desk. Because futuristic ships constantly have a breeze blowing inside them, this would have proven detrimental were it not for the presence of advanced Birinian paper weights.

A paper weight, in theory, merely needs to be an object that utilizes gravity in order to weigh paper down. Birinian engineers, however, had taken something good and made it something different. Birinian paper weights were way more advanced than shitty analog paper weights because they hovered. Obviously the negation of gravity also negated its usefulness in holding papers down, so every Birinian hoverweight came equipped with a tractor beam to hold papers down.

All of the tractor beams in Ulver’s Hoverweights had short circuited the hovering modules, rendering them inoperable. So he just laid them on top of his piles of paper to weigh them down. One such paper detailed the loadout of the Signalia:

Offensive equipment:
-4 Lightyboi guns
-2 Lightyboi guns that are, yaknow, bigger
-A torpedo bay, but with a futuristic prefix
-Several irritating neckbeards
-A drive that, while it allows the BS Signalia to travel faster than light, has a charging up time so that it conveniently can’t be used to avoid weapons composed of light

Defensive Equipment:
-Shields whose strength is measured on a percentage basis with no other context
-Multiple main characters
-A free, thirty-day trial Anti-Virus software

[Kuroluce]

Multiple main characters

That’s the most effective defensive equipment by far.

[Entria]

IC:

~I, too, am glad to be writing this story with you. What’s most important isn’t who “wins” or “loses” (which isn’t really possible in a writing game anyway!) but that we both enjoy this process and develop our characters in interesting ways. Cheers!~

~An Ancient Space Philosopher from Entria

The shape of all Entrian ships was sleek and aerodynamic, which is a necessary feature in the vacuum of space. Captain Terris was on the bridge of the Moderation. Everyone was clapping because he had just given a speech that was incredibly rousing.

“Wow!” First Officer Quentin exclaimed, “What an amazing speech, sir! I would hate to have missed it.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty great.” The Captain replied, polishing one of the many medals on his chest. None of the papers on his desk were blowing around in the breeze because they were weighed down by Entrian paperweights that had none of the flaws or over-engineering of Birinian paperweights: The tractor beam was located far away from the hover module so that there was no risk of short circuiting.

One such paper displayed the Naval Ship Moderation’s equipment.

Offensive equipment:
-5 Lightyboi guns
-3 Big Lightyboi guns
-A torpedo bay that’s better than the one on the Signalia
-Several irritating vegans
-A drive that, while like the one on the Signalia, was a little bit better
-And also anti-gravbomber fighters, lots of them, good ones.

Defensive Equipment:
-Better shields than the Signalia
-45-day trial anti-virus software

In a brilliant tactical ploy, the captain ordered his men to dampen the lights in the light-based weaponry.

“So that the enemy won’t see the light before it hits them and thus won’t be able to evade it!” He announced triumphantly. As the Signalia came into view, Terris began barking orders to his crew.

“Maneuver us down a little bit! Open fire with all weaponry, targeting the shiniest part of their ship!”

The faster-than-light beams of light began hurtling towards the unsuspecting Signalia like she was a bitch in heat. And like a bitch in heat, she would be impregnated. With light and torpedoes.

[Birina]

IC:

~Wow, the Moderation has the same loadout as the Signalia only slightly better. That sure is-was... a coincidence. Hmm.

~Ancient Birinian Space Historian commenting on the Battle between the Signalia and the Moderation

The Signalia lurched a small amount when one of the enemy lightyboi weapons hit her. The crewmember whose job it was to shout out shield percentages said "Shields at 99.9%!"

"Thankfully we were able to evade most of the enemy weapons and only got hit by one punkass beam." Ulver said, breathing a sigh of relief. He flipped over the paper that was on his desk that had detailed the Signalia's loadout because it was actually out of date. Just prior to launching they had a new loadout that was detailed on this sheet:

Offensive Weapons:

-6 Legit lightyboi weapons that are twice as strong as the one that just hit the Signalia
-3 better lightyboi weapons that, for some reason, are not the main armament
-A whole bunch of crossfitters who really want you to try crossfit
-2 torpedo bays that launch highly accurate, very explosive torpedoes that also play music when launched from the following playlist:

1. Happy Birthday
2. Turkey in the Straw
3. Meet Me In St. Louis, Louis
4. Anything else that is public domain

-A hangar full of ship-to-ship bombers armed with gravity-bombs. Gravity-bombs are bombs that utilize gravity to hit their targets, unlike normal bombs which just go any which way.

Defensive Equipment:

-Better shields than before
-Flak cannons, but they're futuristic so they maybe shoot light or use like very tiny railguns or something
-Norton


"Now that it's our turn to fire, because that's how this works, I have a novel strategy." Ulver announced to the bridge crew, "Try to shoot not where they are but where you think they will be. Also, deploy all the grav-bombers. They don't have any fighters, so they'll be toast.

Back on Birina, Jaxon and Christon were worried. They were in the unenviable position of being used to follow up an otherwise terse and unimaginative description of combat in order to add fluff to the post so that it would meet the lofty standards of edgy teenagers on the internet. As everyone knows, length is the soul of wit. And girth is the soul of pleasure. The duo opted to run out the clock by visiting the State Philosopher Herbor Hofstradtman in one of Birina's many Homeopathy wards where he was receiving his weekly treatment. Homeopathy is slightly different on Birina than in the reader's time period. While peasants living in the shitty past did in some cases unlock the obvious medical benefits of crystals and tarot cards, they didn't manage to unleash the full potential of Homeopathy as Birina did. It was named "Homeopathy" because that was short for "Homeless people having their organs harvestedopathy".

Homeopathy was an eagerly embraced solution because it not only gave organs to people that society needs (basically just politicians) but it also reduced the homelessness crisis; effectively killing two birds with one bird.

One such case approached them, flailing his arms wildly and ranting about windmills. He reeked of shit and appeared to be in a state of permanent intoxication. His hair was strangely plastered and going in many different directions and he strung his words together one after the other in a way that was verifiably insane. He was clearly a menace to society that should probably have been put down long ago. His name was Herber Hofstradtman and he had just been transplanted with a fresh new hobo heart. He took a deep breath, his medical gown airing out his mummified body. At long last he spoke something resembling a language.

"Is that long enough?" He asked.

"Yep, we got it." Jaxon confirmed.

[Entria]

IC:

~Sure is interesting how all of the Moderation's weapons missed the Signalia except for one. The Signalia must have EXCEPTIONAL evasive capabilities. Like, more than any other ship I've ever seen! That SURE is highly unlikely! But what do I know? : ))))~

~Ancient Entrian Space Philosopher, Space Year 4200

"Alright, now!" Terris announced, "Fire the faster-than-faster-than light graviton rays!"

The Moderation energized its gravitonium cores, firing invisible rays of gravitons at the lasers that they had also just fired that had "missed" the Signalia.

"They've fallen into our trap!" Terris exclaimed. "By evading our plasma beams, they actually put themselves right in the path of where we planned to use gravity to focus those beams!" Before the crew's eyes, all the beams of plasma that had seemingly "missed" the Signalia were beamed by gravity beams that reoriented the beam of the plasma beams so that they beamed right into the stupid fucking Birinian ship. The crew of the Moderation beamed in delight.

"Now, deploy the anti-gravbomber fighters that we have to sortie the Birinian craft!"

The Anti-Gravbomber Fighters would obviously be very effective against the Birinian gravbombers, having been designed for exactly that purpose. Not just now, but a while ago. Indeed, Anti-Gravbomber fighters have been part of the Entrian arsenal for some time now, as my factbook and previous posts on this thread clearly demonstrate.

Now, to describe the Moderation. The Moderation was a sleek, gorgeous design. The bridge was located at the bow of the ship (which is the "front" in shitty past-talk) in a sizeable compartment that bulged forward and outwards slightly, granting the bridge crew an uninterrupted view of the rest of the ship. This tapered down to the tubular body that composed the majority of the Moderation. Engineering, the Transportation Bay, more recently the Fighter Bay, and the crew's quarters were all in this portion of the ship. Near the stern, this long tube widened into the two massive, spherical engines that thrusted the ship forward. Because balance and aerodynamics are actually unimportant in a vacuum, the left engine-sphere hung slightly lower than the right engine-sphere which granted the Moderation additional maneuvering options and was totally normal and nothing to consult a doctor about.

"Let's do that thing that can unlock an additional 10% engine capacity that we don't just do all the time for some reason!" a female ensign recommended.

"Good idea." Terris replied, "As the Captain, I will obviously go and do it myself. You stay here and rear the children. I'll teleport to save time."

Terris leapt into the teleporting compartment and announced "Engineering, stat!" A completely solid and entirely sound-proof cover encapsulated the chamber. A pale green light flooded over him, signifying that the teleportation process had begun. Three massive robotic apertures burst out from the sides of the compartment and began ripping Terris apart, starting with his arms, in order to copy and compile him in Engineering.

Terris screamed in agony. "Oh God! Oh God! Why!? This is terrible! Oh my God! Is this what teleporting is?! I thought it was, like, molecules!"

But everything was okay because this was all part of the teleporting process. He rammed his stumps desperately against the wall of the chamber, which was sealed tight, in an anguished attempt to evade the rest of the teleportation procedure.

"No! No! Please!"

But as all future people know, there's no such thing as a soul so therefore as long as a perfect copy of him was assembled in Engineering, he wasn't actually dying. In fact, when you think about it, there's no such thing as dying. Or at least, it's not possible to die any more than you die every night when you go to sleep. Which is something to bear in mind if you ever find yourself being rapidly dismembered in space.

"I'm dying! This is death!" Terris wailed as the robotic apertures began violently teleporting his legs. "I... there's nothing..." he sobbed, "I-it's just blackness. The nothingness is closing in. Why is it nothing? Is this it? Just this, then nothing? Please... please don't."

His pleas fell on deaf ears. And his ears fell on the floor, before being scanned and then incinerated. Seconds later an unscathed and unwary Terris popped out of the corresponding teleportation pad in Engineering just as the teleportation pad in the Bridge was subjected to high temperatures, sprayed with hydrofluoric solvent, and then sluiced clean.

"Wow! Entrian teleportation technology sure is remarkable! I wonder what happens between stepping onto the pad and stepping out. I never have any memory of it!"

He pressed the button to boost the engines 10%. O'Malley, his chief engineer, approached him.

"G'day Cap'n. I was just about to walk to the bridge! To burn the calories. Wanna join me?"

"Mmm... nah. I'll take the teleporter."

O'Fitz was already at the Bridge by the time the Captain got there. Engineering was next to the Bridge. The Moderation was a grower, not a shower.

[Birina]

IC:

~I'd like to begin by saying that the philosopher writing the Entrian chronicles of what occurred here is a huge piece of shit. Fuck you. Seriously? Did you go back and edit your post to add gravbombers in, you rat bastard? You lack honor and, furthermore, due to your mother being a loose woman your birth is of uncertain provenance.~

-An Ancient Birinian Space Historian or whatever, Space Year Fuck You

Ulver and his officers were eating pumpkin pie (which was the worst kind of pie) in the mess hall (which was the worst kind of hall).

"You know..." Ulver said, pointing with his fork so that it sprayed a bit of pie everywhere, "I hear that Entrian teleportation technology involves being torn apart and scanned piece by piece."

"That's awful." an officer gasped in between bites of pumpkin pie.

"Yeah. And it starts with your arms first, your head is the last thing to go. Thank God I live in Birina, a future nation that has proper teleportation technology: The portal gun! As I will now demonstrate by teleporting to the bridge."

Ulver dropped his fork on his plate so that he could unholster his portal gun. The fork is a sleek piece of Birinian technology that allows those who wield it to eat pie and sometimes other things. It does this by employing advanced ergonomic design whereby the end at which it is held fits perfectly into the Birinian holding-organ, which they refer to as "hands". This tapers down to a thin neck at which is attached a head that allows a small amount of scooping but ultimately branches out into three, or four, or if you're a psychopath five tines. These tines allow the fork to pierce things that it wouldn't otherwise be able to pierce if it were something other than a fork, such as a tennis racket or the concept of joy.

The portal gun was just a normal pistol. Ulver unholstered it, pointed it up against his temple, and blew his brains out. An embryonic clone of Ulver was then put in a maturation science tank on the bridge, given accelerated growth science, put in a time machine science capsule that allowed it to grow to be Ulver's age (all the while being encoded with everything Ulver knew), clothed, fed exactly what Ulver ate earlier, and was spat out onto the bridge as God intended.

"Refreshing." Ulver announced, "In any event, the Entrians have obviously fallen right into our trap by using their made up graviton technology. I happened to know that a flock of endangered spaceborne animals known as Bishanti are migrating past us right now. Right between us and the Entrian weaponry."

The Entrian lasers and gravbeams absolutely fucking nailed the endangered Bishanti. Now the Entrian attack had not only missed the Signalia completely (again), but had also incurred the wrath of multiple environmental activist organizations.

"Release our anti-gravbomber-fighter fighters, which we have."

Ulver bent over and scrawled as much in pencil on the Signalia's loadout sheet.

[Entria]

IC:

Still IC:

Birinian writing is contrived and derivative. Every night he goes home and cries angrily while staring at a picture of Douglas Adams. Bo Burnham thinks his comedy is "shallow". Yeah, that's right, you're worse than a dumbass who writes shitty jingles that sixth graders like.

~Entrian Spaceboi, SY 69420

Terris leaned back comfortably in his Captain's Chair, which is like a chair but one that has a Captain in it. He folded his hands together as he watched the Bishanti being torn into by his weaponry. He took a deep breath.

"By believing that we have fallen right into their trap... naturally... The Birinians have fallen right into our trap, you see. As any peasant knows, the only way for the made up Bishanti to reproduce is for them to be hit with lasers."

What he said was true. Before their very eyes the thankful space creatures were splitting, doing a little dance, and then joining the Entrians in battle (indebted as they were for having been given their first orgasm in centuries). Bishanti were unique among space creatures in that they not only understood the concept of nations, battles, and sides of battles, but they also had a profound understanding of tactics. The Bishanti admiral (which was also something they had a concept of) communicated with Terris via a series of clicks and whistles. He was a strategic genius, which was fortunate, because Terris was not.

"Of course! We'll outflank them on their right flank! Everyone, focus your attack on the right side of space! Wait, that's not very specific. This is the void of space after all. Our right. Not their right."

The Moderation had like forty goddamn laser beams that tore through the flimsy Birinian armor and even flimsier Birinian prose like they were butter. And not the good kind of butter, either. Store brand butter.

EDIT: All their gravbombers and anti-gravbomber-fighter-fighters malfunctioned because they suck.