Name: Keyon (Will answer to anything starting with a K, or Founder. Will fly into a fit of rage if called "Lord" or anything else with a religious use.)
Age (Because I can): Appearing age is 30, technical age is also 30, age without special relativity is 530.
Health: 100/100
Condition: Depressed
Political Power (For Roleplayer's Resort nostalgia): 10 billion gigotwatts (On the 2080 scale)
I materialize in a flash of blue light, apparently I am in a bar of some sort. A primitive bar. A bar without any synthehol. No wonder there was only a single space station above this planet. Of course, that stupid space station just had to look exactly like the ISS, and everyone had their depression trigger, and this planet just pulled it.
My completely white dress uniform contrasts my completely black rifle, which has gold trim on it. My belt is making a quiet humming noise as a result of it's zyrskonium reactor, and both my neural disruptor pistol and suit replication button are on it. My mind is flooded with thoughts of my earlier years. The space shuttles retiring, the ISS, SpaceX, my old job, my research, the NEG-S, and the launch of my Orion-drive ship. The ship that ripped all of my friends out of my life forever. On the bright side, I get millions of Auds in donations from random strangers who practically worship me. OH WAIT, I hate those!
I plop myself down at a booth, whack my head on it a couple times, and stare off into space, trying to hold back the tears and failing. I try to hide my head with my hands, but it's obvious I'm crying. I should have gotten my tear ducts modified on Kepler 22b, oh well, now everyone can see me, a guy in a futuristic military uniform with two energy weapons on him crying in the middle of a bar.
"I should have never left, I would have seen it, I could have done it myself. I gave up my dream and what do I get? Ever more depression than I already had. I'm surprised I haven't killed myself yet!" I mumble loudly.
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Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
Nydia stumbles out of the giant crater now in the middle of a random street. She quickly gets away from the scene and wanders the strange planet. She senses some power coming from a bar, she enters it. She looks around clearly sticking out from the way people dress.
I sit there, twirling my hair while tears stream down my cheeks, once again coming back to the idea that the richest, most powerful people are the most depressed, and you know what? that's the truest thing in the universe aside from the fact that I have a teleporter phobia.
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Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
Nydia walked over and sat down at a nearby table next to a man in tears. "Where am I?" She questions the man suspiciously. He seems powerful but acts pathetic. "What is this place" She remarked looking around.
"For me *sniff* this is an alternate Earth. 21st... 21st century advancement. Fortunately for my sanity, it's not a perfect replica." I say to woman sitting next to me.
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Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
Scrap Man left the junkyard he had claimed, wearing a somewhat decent looking thrown away tuxedo. "I wonder if it's best i wear purple or brown plaid tomorrow....." He steps into the bar, what the people would see step through the door looked like a gentlemanly mechanical brain wearing not just scrapped robot body parts, but also a dirty and torn tux and tophat. "Good day, 'tender. Give me a nice oil wine, would ya?" He said as he sat down at the bar.
I walk up to the bar, after deactivating my replicator's safeties. You never know when you'll need a powersuit or a hunk of gold.
"I'll take whatever is your strongest drink." I say to the bartender.
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Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
"Keyon, Keyon McClain. My life officially sucks right now. Despite being one of the most powerful people in civilized space, I lead the worst life ever. All but 14 of the people I knew are dead, and the one chance I had to bring them back I used on something else. Of course, letting billions die would make me exactly as miserable. You could say the universe is just against me, oh yeah, I may or may not have depression or bipolar disorder. Did I mention that I can't have kids? Because I can't. I can't even become aroused. *Sigh*, at least I got the best 2nd anniversary vacation ever, Kepler 22b, I traded my lifelong dream for my life."
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Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
Vris sits alone at the bar, Drinking a soda as she was still only 18 and could not drink alchohol yet. She was drinking a ginger ale, Chewing mint gum. A weird combo, But nice. She called the waitress over.
"May I please have a small basket of fries, Only a small amount of salt. Thanks"
As the waitress went off, She sat, waiting...name: Vris Naya Health: 100 Condition: Bored
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Then there were three men up front All I saw were backs of heads And then I asked them, "Am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead?"
Once Scrap Man received his drink and took a sip he said "Hey, did anyone notice me walk in? Do i look nice?...." He spoke that second sentence with what can only be described as the robotic equivalent of sweating.
Age (Because I can): Appearing age is 30, technical age is also 30, age without special relativity is 530.
Health: 100/100
Condition: Depressed
Political Power (For Roleplayer's Resort nostalgia): 10 billion gigotwatts (On the 2080 scale)
I materialize in a flash of blue light, apparently I am in a bar of some sort. A primitive bar. A bar without any synthehol. No wonder there was only a single space station above this planet. Of course, that stupid space station just had to look exactly like the ISS, and everyone had their depression trigger, and this planet just pulled it.
My completely white dress uniform contrasts my completely black rifle, which has gold trim on it. My belt is making a quiet humming noise as a result of it's zyrskonium reactor, and both my neural disruptor pistol and suit replication button are on it. My mind is flooded with thoughts of my earlier years. The space shuttles retiring, the ISS, SpaceX, my old job, my research, the NEG-S, and the launch of my Orion-drive ship. The ship that ripped all of my friends out of my life forever. On the bright side, I get millions of Auds in donations from random strangers who practically worship me. OH WAIT, I hate those!
I plop myself down at a booth, whack my head on it a couple times, and stare off into space, trying to hold back the tears and failing. I try to hide my head with my hands, but it's obvious I'm crying. I should have gotten my tear ducts modified on Kepler 22b, oh well, now everyone can see me, a guy in a futuristic military uniform with two energy weapons on him crying in the middle of a bar.
"I should have never left, I would have seen it, I could have done it myself. I gave up my dream and what do I get? Ever more depression than I already had. I'm surprised I haven't killed myself yet!" I mumble loudly.
Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
THIS IS NO REALITIZZZZZZ.
Evil bob:
He was walking down the streets when some duwds shot him and killed him and got his pot! OMFG!
Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
i quit
Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
i quit
i quit
Health: 65%
Condition: Bored.
Scrap Man left the junkyard he had claimed, wearing a somewhat decent looking thrown away tuxedo. "I wonder if it's best i wear purple or brown plaid tomorrow....." He steps into the bar, what the people would see step through the door looked like a gentlemanly mechanical brain wearing not just scrapped robot body parts, but also a dirty and torn tux and tophat. "Good day, 'tender. Give me a nice oil wine, would ya?" He said as he sat down at the bar.
"I'll take whatever is your strongest drink." I say to the bartender.
Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
Your friendly neighborhood, mentally unstable, delusional Trekkie!
"The sky calls to us. If we do not destroy ourselves, we will someday venture to the stars." -Carl Sagan
All my posts are required reading for NSA agents.
"May I please have a small basket of fries, Only a small amount of salt. Thanks"
As the waitress went off, She sat, waiting...name: Vris Naya
Health: 100
Condition: Bored
Then there were three men up front
All I saw were backs of heads
And then I asked them, "Am I alive and well or am I dreaming dead?"
-Tyler Joseph