IdIOT: Shock and Terror


EY LADS
EY
Ya know whass gud? Ol' Nigel's Rum!
*laughter from assembled British National Pirates*
Ya also know whass gud? Ol' Spice!
*Alestorm plays a little snare*
Eeeeeeeeeragon, we should take the spess islands! And have spess pirates!
*applause*
- Speech given by Captain Jack "Nobody Likes Foreigners" Shperow
 
So is it still five claims per turn until told otherwise?
 
Just realised I buggered up the update slightly. Future updates will take longer than that one because damn girl it's tough work. I fixed stats and added RP I forgot to put in.
 
"Say 'Formatic' again!" barked the Mad Katter, "I double-dare ya, mutha—a!" The pimply teenager trembled in terror, eyes locked on the gun barrel trained on his face. Just as he began to whimper a reply, an aide interrupted.

"Yer Excellency," the man bowed, "Priority call from Tartarus."

"Ya mean Sydney?" Katter sighed vexatedly, "Bloody dags 'n their bodgy shots at bein' clever." He eyed the kid one last time. "Take 'im to the cellar, we'll give the root-rat a gobful later." Two burly men carted the youth away as a servant came to Katter's side, bearing a cordless phone on a silver plate.

"His Excellency the Lord Katter, Defender of the Battler Nations speaking. Who the hell's this?"

"Still the predictable figjam, I gather," jeered the other line.

"Tony," Katter growled.

"That's Lord Abbott to you," he sneered.

"Unless yer callin' t'apologize and return what's rightfully mine, I don't have time fer yer porkies, Tony."

"Ya'd better make time, Bob, or yer schedule's gonna be nought but my porkies. I 'ave it on good authority that yer patch is up to its proud li'l neck in fur—ry, and I wanna know what yer doin' 'bout it."

"Don't lair it up with me," he snapped, "Ya think you can accuse me of harbourin' gaysexuals? We were perfectly free from drongo dingo dongers until yer lot started shippin' yer delinquents onta our dates. So don't come cryin' ta me now that yer li'l scheme's gone tits-up."

Abbott broke into mirthless laughter. "Ya still don't get it, ya bastard! Yer bailed up, and this time the Ratzinger wannabe ain't got yer back! Either you 'n all yer galahs submit ta th' dinkum Wizard of Oz, or I'll make sure yer shovellin' th' s— house 'til Judgment Day!"

"Let's have a go, ya bloody fruit loop! Ya may've had a lend o' th' battlers the first round, but don't forget it was my help that nabbed you that crown. Rort me again, and I'll nab it right back."

Katter hung up before Abbott could respond, dropping the receiver back on the plate like a snotty tissue. He plied his fingers around the armrest of his skull throne, jaw grinding back and forth. "Ain't got me back, huh?" A devilish grin spread across his face. "We'll see 'bout that."


 
Astnumeria, Valensligoo, Thuringigoo, Goostood Boajan, & Goustria will all be coming under the protection of the Church of Goomy within the year; as before, we are willing to negotiate with our sinful neighbors should they, for any unfathomable reason, not be pleased with this.



Champion Fitzpèire would like to offer his godless soon-to-bealmost neighbors, the Premier Grand and Most Utterly Serene Republic of all the United Byelorussian Peoples and the Peoples Under Byelorussian Rule, a Pact of Nonaggression & Mutual Defense. He is also willing to stop referring to them as godless heathens; to show his sincerity, he is offering 4 perfectly-bred, completely EV trained Bouffalant to Byelorussia.
 
The following is a recorded exchange between Gunnery Seargent Hartman and the newest recruits into the USV Marines in a routine barrack inspection

Gunnery Sgt Hartman: My god, this place is dirtier the Augean Stables! I know the only thing you maggots can properly clean is Mr. Johnson's watering hose, but I'd AT LEAST expect you vomit to put some EFFORT into it! I wouldn't be surprised if Charlie was hiding underneath your bunks, passing the time for me to walk by it by-

*He stops to stare at Private Dundee, a recruit from Australia, with a piece of aluminium foil sticking out of his hat*

H: Private, you have three seconds, exactly three seconds to explain to me why you are trying to hide contrabrand in your helmet.

Private Dundee: Sir, I don't have contraband in my helmet, sir

H: Do you think I'm blind, Dundee? Do you think I'm Enrico Dandalo, sitting all proud and in flamboyant clothes?

D: Sir, no, sir!

H: Then do you think I'm one of your Outback girls, Private Dundee? Do you want to take my dainty hands and go explore Ayers Rock?

D: Sir, no, sir!

H: Then why are you trying to f*** with me like my name was Mary Jane Rottencrotch?

D: Sir, because I don't /have/ contraband, sir!

*Hartman rips off Dundee's helment. Revealed is a piece of aluminium foil. He rips the foil off of his head, as if he expected anything underneath. However, the only he finds is Dundee's head*

H: What in god's name is this?

*Hartman unravels the foil, expecting something stuck to it. However, it is quite clearly just a regular piece of aluminum foil*

H: Aluminium foil? You had aluminium foil stuck underneath your helmet? I know you diggers were dropped one to many by your convict parents, but this is a whole new level of . Are you seriously telling me you were trying to hide foil underneath your helmets?

D: Sir, yes, sir!

H: And exactly WHY are you wearing aluminium foil on top of your head, Dundee?

D: Sir, to stop the Japanese from reading my mind, sir!

*Hartman is stunned, and, rare for his job, completely speechless. The two stare at each other for a few, awkward moments, before Hartman continues*

H: Is this what my beloved corps been reduced to? Petrified horsehockystains who are afraid of tiny little schoolgirls who wear octopi as panties from prying into their minds? The same people who consider not crashing their airplanes into ships dishonorable? Are you telling me you're afraid of the Japanese, Dundee?

D: Sir, no, sir!

H: Good, because the only thing you should be fearing is me and the PT I'm about to reward your ass with!

Jesus Christ, aluminium foil? Aluminium f***ing foil!? I know you wretched scumbags are too stupid to realize we have a reputation, but Vietnam is a country where good non-degenerate warriors migrate to, to be with their own people. However, when we wear aluminium foil on top of our heads, we do not look like the cold-blooded butchers of Hanoi that we are! We look like fools, the special needs kids that the school was so very nice to let us go on the field trip! I will NOT let our image be tarnished as such!

Not to mention that aluminium foil doesn't even work. The only thing that stops a psychic is lead. And no, before you geniuses misintrepet me, I do not mean lead foil!

*Hartman pulls out a bullet*

I mean THIS kind of lead, you numbnuts. You see a fellow marine mind dominated? You the shoot the psychic. Can't find the psychic? Make sure Private Thrall can't shoot you in the back, then find the psychic. Then shoot the psychic. Do I make myself understood?

All Marines: SIR, YES, SIR!

H: Good, because the next time I find aluminum foil not wrapped around food, this entire platoon will WISH I found a jelly donut in your footlocker. DISMISSED!

---

Vienamese PSA: Wearing aluminium, lead, or any kind of foiled hat is now illegal. None of them even work. Don't be that idiot
 
Orders Lock Tuesday Midday Canberra Time.

That's approximately ~96 hours


I know that's slightly less than a week, but I'm trying to pace the update over two days rather than do it all at once like I did last update as that was a bad idea. And I'm busy Thursday.
 
OOC: In retrospect, my RP isn't all that comical. I REGRET NOTHING

Blood seeped thick from the back of the APC. It flowed freely onto the asphalt, down the road a few dozen feet, and into a gutter. It was a surprise the blood didn't back up in the gutter, however; three dead Chinese soldiers were forcefully stuffed into the opening. They were dead of course, same with the two inside the APC, and the ten arranged in a semi-circle around the APC's back hatch. The little girl swung her feet from her sitting position just inside the APC, looking out onto the road and the abandoned, endless line of cars.

The soldiers had been no fun. At first she was excited; they were yelling and waving guns and seemed all bothered by her presence! But when she went to join the game, they started to die.

No fun at all.

She heard a quiet rasping, like a ragged breath. She'd been listening to it for a few minutes now, and it was a curious thing. Equal parts pain, determination, and fear. She sighed, having waited long enough, and stepped down from the APC's open hatch, careful not to get blood on her dark blue silk skirt. She walked toward the only living soldier, picking her way through the corpses until she reached the one living soldier, splayed on his back and staring into the big blue above. He was almost too busy taking in painful breaths to notice her.

SOF Commander Zan Chen looked up at the girl as she leaned down over him, looking at him with her big blue eyes. She locked eyes with him, scrunching up her nose: he smelled funny. Chen opened his mouth, his voice naught but a whisper. "Wh-what... are you? Wh.. what... do y-you want?" She smiled down at him, her eyes unusually distant for a girl who looked about age eight. Chen had been briefed on what little intel China had on her before he was deployed to defend Tiananmen Square while civilians and government agents evacuated. From what he knew, Chen doubted she understood Chinese of any kind. He could feel his death looming, but he never thought it would feel quite so... cold.

The little girl knelt, caressing his forehead. Her touch was warm, like any human's touch ought to be. But now, with this new proximity, he could see something else in her eyes: emptiness. If his spine hadn't been broken in three places, he might have shivered.

"Mother wants you home." She said quizzically, as if the man's questions were beyond moronic. "Mother waits for you at home, beyond the Hollow Stars. She has presents." The girl put one hand on either side of his face, looking at a small cut on his forehead with slight interest.

"I d-don't kn-... why doe-" The girl braced her foot on Chen's chest before he could continue, holding onto his face. She pulled his head up, accompanied by a wet tearing sound as she tore Chen's head from his shoulders and held it up in the sunlight. She looked at the cut on his forehead more closely. Sheesh, it wasn't even that big of a cut, and he was acting all pained? What a faker. She tossed the head down on his corpse, already having lost interest, and began skipping down the road, making her way toward home.

Mother sometimes gave presents to people at home. Mother called her by name! Mother sometimes brought the Tall Mister, and he would tell her stories while Mother made hot chocolate on cold nights.

Mother loved her very much.
 
SHEKELS OF DOVID, PART 3
((WARNING: This part is not suited for those plebs who haven't got degrees in physics,biology,chemistry,maths,history,linguistics,engineering and PHDs in quantum physics,nuclear physics, quantified computational chemistry, geometrical topology, micro - electronics engineering, statistics, nanotechnology, genetic engineering, network data, big data analysis, applied maths, complexity sciences, bioelectromagnetism, actuarial science, astrophysics, molecular biology, philosophy, text simplification, cognitive science of language, translating and interpreting, sociolinguistics, mechanistic biology, computational approaches in translational science, research of RNA polymerases, agrochemistry, biophysics, european civilisation and also do not have an IQ of 230 human points and also don't have mastery over at the very least 40 earthling languages with their respective dialects and 5 languages of the Milky Way galaxy, as per "That stereotypical sci - fi Science character" protocol))

"Have you had any luck with this one?" Asked Mckay.

"No, not really. I have been trying this account named Civ'ed, a recurring one in the Von IOT Family encrypted archives, but so far, no luck. I have tried everything I can come up with, "Dutchmania", "killbelgium2015", "leodinbelief", but so far, I have had no results. In fact, it seems that the encrypted files have a defence mechanism against intruders, which means that I have only 2 tries left, and I don't want to see what it will do. I suspect a polynomial algebraic function mapped out into a system of parallel vector points is at play here regarding the algorithm." answered Dr. Carter.

"Hmm, but are you sure it's not a quantumised Z - field imprinted upon the 5th string super symmetrical G dimension after a dilation on the wavelength of the time - space continuum, which would imply that bosons and gravitons are interacting with WIMPs, and as such cause a reversal of the polarity on the neutron flow?" answered Dr. Mckay.

"Come to think of it, I have actually come to the conclusion that we are facing an archive coming from a supercomputer combining the capabilities of a biological and an optical computer, as such having the capability of forming its own intelligence. Hence the incomprehensible names and their relative distance from the happenings of the real world. This also explains why on digital computers like ours they can not work properly, such as having no new posts or having their plans called "IOTs" abruptly halted." Explained Dr. Carter.

"No no no, that is definetely not the optimal explanation. Rather, I believe that we are facing a successful 2 - dimensional Mobius Strip, as such creating a sub - set dimension originating from the pulsating black hole occuring from this event and the induced Hawkins radiation, which would also cause a further degeneration of the replicator Y chromosome and explain why the user is given 5 tries." said Mckay.

"Or it could be just a normal archive from a normal computer" said a familliar voice.

It was that of Colonel Jack O' Neill, who so frequently changed titles that everyone simply called him O' Neill.

"But that is impossible. If everything was normal in here, this could not constitute as an awesome science fiction show!" explained Dr. Mckay.

"You should respect the 4th wall more. Besides, do you want our audience to feel headaches?" asked O' Neill. "Indeed", a voice could be heard from the vast depths of the Bunker's halls.

"That is not possible. I am beaming up to the USS Daedalus in order to use its supercomputers to my convulted scheme of proving you wrong, despite the fact that it propably has better things to do, like exploring space. After all, this is a bad plot, might as well use it to my avail!" replied Mckay, before being beamed up into the Daedalus.

"Here, give the terminal to me" Said O'Neill to Carter.

"Are you sure? Even I could not break into it." Said the suprised Carter.

"Don't sweat about it Carter. Nothing can possibly go wrong." Said O'Neill in a relaxed way.

After being given the terminal, O'Neill was furiously typing things. Carter was unaware of what he was doing, but perhaps so was O'Neill. With a smile on his face, he gave the terminal back to Carter. After looking at the screen, O'Neill explained that he had an account on the Paradox Forums despite being part of a technically secret organisation. Carter was dumbfounded, as she also had an account on the Paradox Forums. A true paradox indeed.

"With all due respect sir, those are not the correct forums." Replied Carter.

"Oh. Perhaps I should return to my military duties then.." Said O'Neill while leaving.

Carter was given 2 more chances in order to crack into an account. However, these accounts were so strange and unfamilliar, except from one. He was called NinjaCow64, and he lived in Australia. With hesitation, she clicked typed the username, and used the "Abbortallhope" phrase on the password field. This allowed her to enter.

She was actually familliar with the idea behind NinjaCow. As a member of a US secret organisation, she had access to other secret organisations. NinjaCow was part of the "Abbortallhope" project, the creation of the perfect spy through genetic modification that would infiltrate and destroy a government that was against that of the US. Unfortunately, the first subject turned into a mad ninja cow, or also known as an Australian, and the project was stopped, as the US could only infiltrate Australia with the biological techniques of the time. The subjects had a genetic memory imprinted on the subconscious like that of the Goa'uld regarding the program, and that is how Carter managed to get into the account.

"And this is what pretty much happened" said Carter to Landry, now back in the past.

"That is most interesting Dr. Carter, but can you explain why one year has passed and we are still here?" asked Landry. "Also, where the hell did Dr. Jackson go?" he asked again, noticing that Jackson had left the room.

"Uhh, sir, I don't really know to be honest." Replied Carter.

"Stop what you are all doing now. I have the solution to our problems." Said enthusiastically Jackson as he entered the room. "Also, you have been pretty much been standing there for a year." he explained.
 
After looking at the screen, O'Neill explained that he had an account on the Paradox Forums despite being part of a technically secret organisation. Carter was dumbfounded, as she also had an account on the Paradox Forums. A true paradox indeed.
I am crying tears
 
Just realised I messed up my time calculations.

48 Hour Lock

Reminder PMs will be sent soon

EDIT: I think I won't send remind PMs because hardly any of you have sent orders. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
 
MASSIVE SUPER TENSE DECISION-MAKING MOMENT

[Stan, Mabel and Dipper are sitting in the kitchen at the Mystery Shack.]

STAN: So you want to let this alien in?

MABEL: Yep! Having an alien friend would be so awesome! And who knows? Maybe he'll be cute!

DIPPER: Plus I can question him/her about these alien conspiracies he/she mentioned.

STAN: And he's offering us money?

DIPPER: Well, yes, and...

STAN: Asylum granted!

DECISION MADE!

---

Also, claiming the two little islands off Alaska and the three islands south of Luzon.
 
Public Service Announcement!

I updated the stats and map on the front page, if you were using that for calculating your orders than check again. That is all.
 
Just realised I messed up my time calculations.

48 Hour Lock

Reminder PMs will be sent soon

EDIT: I think I won't send remind PMs because hardly any of you have sent orders. Not that there is anything wrong with that.
OOC: I'll send up mines soon. I've been busy through out the week with two job interviews.
 
The taming of the Shawarma
Jack Shperow and his dear friend Eric Clopten were sitting in a café seaside pub in LivARRpol. The innkeep came up to the two and said "What will it be, sirs?"
Shperow ordered a fine and proper british rum. Nigel's own.
Clopten ordered a fine and proper champ- uh.... ale.
"And to eat, sirs?"
Shperow demanded a menu.
The waiter promptly brought out an illegal immigrant with a menu etched into his back.
Shperow studied it thoroughly, and upon noticing something he instantly screwed up his face and brought out a pistol.
"This says curry."
"y-y-yes sir, I don't see how... oh..."
Shperow and Clapten took turns playing golf with the waiter's head and then went off to find another immigrant-lover.
 
CLARIFYING THE BOGAN DIRECTIVE IN WAKE OF THE FURRY PERIL

Dinkum blokes might be scratchin' their heads over whether the government's crusade against the Furry menace makes our beaut lifestyle suspect. Undoubtedly the Lord Abbott's infallible in his pronunciations of the Grouse Faith, and anyone that comes a gutser will be persecuted accordingly. The rest of us true blue Aussies needn't worry, though, since after chattin' with the pollies the Blokey Council can confirm that the roots of the Grouse Faith are still ace, London to a brick.
  • Can I still tie me kangaroo down, sport?
    Yes. Man-handling nature for human purpose is the whole reason God gave us the land in the first place, and shows proper understandin' of the Grouse Faith.
  • If I crack a fat at a dog, will the diggers lop it off?
    Quit oglin' me girlfriend, ya bastard.
  • Naw, I mean, can I still root with me jill?
    Only so long as you treat her as a subordinate object with no regard to her well-being. Remember, the Furry ain't worth a zack 'cuz he lowers himself to their level.
  • I'm a sheila, can I still root with me jack?
    No, woman, get back in the kitchen.
  • I'm a bloke, can I still root with me jack?
    No, that's homo and punishable by castration. And by yer wordin' you've been doin' it for a walkabout, so yer prob'ly lookin' at a death sentence. Tough luck, mate.
  • I'm a bloke, and I wanna know if me sheila can root with me jill?
    They're both yer property, so give it a burl.
  • I'm a bloke/sheila, can I still root with me joey?
    We've logged yer IP, ya sick bastard. Hope ya like hot pokers.


NC DE MINITRU 0644 = 151 = CDL KMO =

SEKIV NFOWV JYXOG MCPHR FAGEP FLALN GLGQK MOICR WIEFF KLZJB RCOZB JRJPY ACQWR SAGUU PYMCC VHWTD RHLPT UAFEE NZBIT XNFHC QRSCQ XFOQA RNFHL JKBSB PYYDS UWEKI KMNTF FFUIQ TKSAO ODHZN B

NC DE MINIPAX 0644 = 2TL = 210 = FXR OJA =

NBERR KRGPX QGELB HQCHA OYUJX JURXO YBRCV CIXGK NFKER GETSM QKHPR QZKLX SYWDB JXMNL VDEZN RINYC LNOQD KHTTI PZJWL FXYHC SDZGM THEZQ EPLBW PAUIU AQDKL KBLGA JYEBS LAESI CWQZB ELXXH GVUQU TIXWG SBBLZ QSXFV VGLVP XMHIE LLZHQ ACOTX SAQEJ LNOEG VXLDN CWFIA

2TL = 126 = ICP WGE =

USTZX XOYNP JNDAF TNUVM FAVIJ VAZSM ALXMA EHZRH FTMCH EADBF SFMHI GWFQR DHBPC UQNDB JEVSX DMMBC DUMBY USQYT LLIRA NVBBR QDQDQ MJFIB YJDFC IJMHA ZZMVD D
 
25 Hours Until Lock. Reminder PMs will have to go out later unfortunately

EDIT: No reminder PMs as like all but five of you haven't sent orders in yet.
 
Angels Calling, Huge Mechs and Power Armored Troops

Connie: Tym, report on the status of the propaganda situation
Tym: Well, Imperator Connie. Just last week in Panama City. I held an anti-Pony rally educating the masses of the Pony menace. I even had the honor of setting ablaze a, stuffed Twilight Sparkle in our Torch of Victory
Morrigan: Nice, but can we also burn that horrible novel?
Tym: I don't follow Morrigan...
Morrigan: The Twilight series of books!
Tym: I'll see that they get burnt along with any pony fanfics that do show up on our borders
Connie: Good, any Pony contraband flowing by?
Tifa: We've made sure that we turned away any Pony freighters away from the Panama Canal
Otis: Even if we have to use our naval warships to point our guns at them
Tym: There's no need to worry Imperator
Aaron: There's also an important development within Australia. Lord Abbott has started there first operations on, what we term "Operation Furrsecution".
Connie: And how does this relate to the Pony Menace?
Tym: Well, from a certain point of view, Ponies are furries
Connie: I see...
Dennis: I wouldn't contact Lord Abbott right away, just to be on the safe side
Connie: I do have important matters to take care of anyway
Dennis: Such as
Connie: (Looks towards Surface Marshall Lee Oliver)
Lee: We've just gotten a message from our defense contractors back home on Solitude. They're about to send in a large mech they dub, ANGEL, through the warp gate.

Spoiler :


Lee: We also have recived word that we've trained a division of Power Armored troops armed with plasma weaponry. Ready to make planet fall onto Earth.
Connie: Excellent, keep me up to date on the situation.

Claims:
 
Important Announcement:

It seems like I've bumbled the stats. (Insert grumble mumble I shouldn't have tried to update the game over the course of only one day). The main thing effected is the POL stat.

Unless you are 企業提携, Goomy or didn't send orders in last turn, you should have a POL of less than five.

Any people that missed out on stuff because of mistakes I made in last turn's update will be compensated next update.
 


You have failed me for the last* time, NC!


NC DE MINILUV 0504 = 119 = LGO RIQ =

VANYM PVSYA UZDFD TFWNK CAMVY YYKJP KFHDJ YFUXP OJQMH JIWGV RIPCN ZVUBM WOBOT SUWJU FQBYF FRJAU WLDIQ BSYFJ LYVGI KRIDF QBTSF TFSKE JEYRI DIJM
 
Top Bottom