Subject: Newbstorm

Posted on: September 15 2009 @ 03:10 AM
By: Pinche+Cabron

Content:

From the captain's console of your ship, the Heart of Bronze, you confidently give the command, "Set course for the Jungle, Ensign. Warp factor 4."

The ensign busies himself, but to your consternation nothing seems to be happening. The ship is not moving, or if it is, it is moving too slowly to notice.

"What seems to be the problem, Ensign?" you ask in a confident yet slightly sarcastic tone.

"It's the controls, sir. They don't seem to be responding. I can't even get the coordinates for Jungle to load, sir," comes the worried answer.

Nothing for it but the go-to guy, the one member of your crew that seems to have all the answers. Right now he is bent over the scope on his console.

"First Science Officer, report. What is going on and what do we do about it?"

Your First Science Officer answers coolly, as he always does, but you detect his nervousness by the unconscious twitching of one of his eyebrows. It's one of his "tells", and you've taken advantage of it many times to take money from him in games of Venusian Poker.

"Captain, it appears we are in the middle of a Newbstorm. I've never seen anything like it. We're past 200 on the Newbscale."

"And what can we do about it? The controls aren't responding!"

"I believe that the controls will respond eventually, Captain. They've just been slowed down to an improbable degree. So long as we don't get a "Server Not Responding" error, we can still navigate. I suggest we put the ship down at the nearest outpost."

You snap an order to the ensign, "You heard the man! Set course for the nearest outpost."

"I-I, Skipper!"

After an interminably long time, the ship has come about and is heading towards the nearest outpost. The ship seems to be moving even slower as it nears its destination. The Newbstorm seems to be getting worse. You want answers.

"First Science Officer?"

"We appear to be heading into the very heart of the storm, Captain. It's gong to get worse before it gets better, I'm afraid."

You were afraid of this. You look over at the ensign, wondering which outpost he set course for. No. He wouldn't! He couldn't!

"Captain, we are approaching Planet New Home. Your orders?"

This might be the worst thing you've ever faced in your 5 years as a star ship captain, but you cannot show any fear in front of your subordinates.

"Prepare the cat launchers, and break out the sun guns. Set them to phase. We're not getting out of here until every Newb is dead and gone.'

Before the words are even all the way out of your mouth, you sense the storm worsening. Now even simple physical action is becoming difficult. You try to check your inventory, but everything is moving at a glacial pace. "Must. Not. Give. Up. . . . Must. Find. Crazy. Audrey. . . "



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