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  [RFC] Osh Kosh.
Posted by: Dartz - 03-28-2023, 05:15 PM - Forum: Fenspace - Replies (5)

God it's a miserable old world outside, isn't it? War. Death. Pestilence. People who chew too loud. Sometimes, you need something to remind you it doesn't have to be that way.


----


It’d been described to her as the Fenspace Convention for aviation. Watching a gaggle of single-prop private aircraft land near-simultaneously on a series of multicouloured spots painted at regular intervals along a runway, Jet found it hard to disagree.

All made it without incident. After three days, there’d been no major accidents, and only a few minor incidents. A DC-3 blasted something called a Mooney off the runway while doing an engine runup, and someone got themselves a cockpit full of mashed goose-guts at the seaplane pier.

In the back of her mind, her muse monitored the traffic control - if only to see if anything interesting decided to show up. Fenspace relied on handwaved AI’s for traffic control at Con’ time. Competent professionals managed the traffic around Wittman field. Jet couldn’t tell what she preferred.

Antares loomed behind her, parked among the centerpieces of the corporately-sponsored Boeing Pavillion, with the flight-test 3-707 tucked safely beneath its wing. Perched on the back of the jumbo-jet stood the scorched form of the space shuttle Discovery - proudly watching over the milling crowd. An mirror-polished B-17 bomber - the Aluminium Overcast - kept an eye on the young ones.

“So, how does it feel being a capitalist stooge?”

The question came K.J. DuPree, down from Korelev, still dressed in his adapted X-Com flightsuit.

“Like being a cuckoo in a gold-plated nest,” Jet answered, quickly. “It’s like this thing is a whole ecosystem on its own, like one of those whales with the fishes following it.”

The fish got fed. The whale got cleaned. Everyone somehow won something out of it.

Antares fished for charter work to keep its fuel tanks filled. An eighty-ton space-shuttle orbiter on its back made a statement about it’s carrying capacity. From any welcoming airport, to any planet. Talk to Jet if you’re interested.

Artemis showed off one of its Three Grace’s, soliciting subscriptions, donations and missions, trading on the publicity and romance of the old Shuttle program to pave the way to the future of space exploration.

Boeing got to show off their work on Antares itself, decked out inside with a hagiography of the original 747 program. Discovery watched from above, having joined the Boeing family the moment Rockwell had been Borged. Illuminated by the halo of Boeing’s past accomplishments, the arrow-like 3-707 pointed to the future.

“But it really doesn’t really fit the whole Cyperpunk lowlife ethos, does it?”

K.J. said it with a smirk.

Jet gave a shrug, doing her best to hide how much it prickled under her armour. “Sylia Stingray owned a ten story building in the centre of Megatokyo.”

It wasn’t about finances, it was about attitude after all.

“Maybe. But I’m glad someone picked her up,” said K.J., still wearing a smile. “The idea of the last 747 ever built being left to rot unwanted in an Alaska boneyard because its Russian owners got sanctioned just stuck in some people’s craw, you know what I mean?”

Nobody realised how obsolete the 747 had truly become, until nobody put their hands up to buy the final one.

Jet looked at him, then over at a chromed Mustang making its way down to the runway, it’s engine popping and backfiring as the throttle was closed.

“Beautiful machine,” she said. It’s thrumming engine syncopated deep inside her chest, speaking to something primal in her soul. Flame-spitting open exhausts satisfied in the way few things ever could. The heavy scent of burnt tetraethyl lead, dioxanes and xylidene drifted on the wind in its wake - the smell of raw speed.

K.J. clasped his hands behind its back, watching the pilot feather at the brakes as she worked to get it stopped before the tarmac ran out. A beaming passenger squeezed into the space the auxiliary fuel tank had once been waved to the crowd with one hand, the other proudly holding a very full brown paper bag

“They’re offering rides,” he said.

A little thrill sparked inside her heart, before reality quenched it.

She forced a rueful smile. “Do I look like I’d fit?”

K.J. smirked. “No. But I will….”

Jet pursed her lips, swallowing a simmering sense of envy.

“Enjoy,” she said, pursing her lips tight.

The Mustang hurried from the runway, taxiing towards the warbird pavillion. A trio of V-tailed single-engined private aircraft in matching paintwork made their final approach - livery identifying them as being members of the Flying Physicians of Pasadena aero club.

They all survived the landing.

“Why didn’t yous pick her up?” Jet asked.

After all, Federation money and influence could open many doors. They were, after all, Good People. Arguably better than Jet. Everybody liked Star Trek.

“We’d have to deal with Boeing and Uncle Sam.” K.J. gave a shrug of his shoulders. “And of-course there’s the whole capitalist-imperialist agenda.”

“I know,” said Jet, with a shrug of her shoulders. “Never make a deal with a dragon.” The old Shadowrun adage applied to Governments as much as anything. She looked back at the Boeing, the airliner happily basking in the attention of the crowds. “I’ve already seen what the barkers are saying.”

KJ’s lips tightened into a thin. He took a breath.

“Save our children from the horrors of people who let them express who they really are.”

“And Boeing did business anyway.” said Jet. “Capital doesn’t give a shit who you are, so long as you have it. Corps don’t give a shit who you are, so long as the cost of the outrage from dealing with you, isn’t outweighed by the money they make in deal. They may be loud, but they’re not winning.”

“I don’t expect you to really understand.” he said. “You’re not from here. You don’t come from the same places they do ”

K.J’s eyes focused on a spot, just beyond the airport fence. Jet wondered for a moment if he could maybe see anything she couldn’t beyond the ring of trees surrounding the airport and aircraft holding at altitude over the lake.

“When they see they’re being left out and start playing the political interference card, or the great replacement card, or the space-paedos card or whatever.” He took a breath. “When they see what they’re missing out on, these are the sort of people who’ll come up and take it. Or destroy it, just to keep someone else from having it.” he paused a moment. “And even if they’re a minority, they're only an election away from setting the agenda.”

To provide context, Jet’s own muse merrily offered up a selection of local news stories, categorised and summarised according to their social consequences, election results and recently passed laws.

It didn’t take cybernetic assistance to understand why KJ had come, and not Kali.

Four thrumming radial engines of Douglas DC-6 ran up at the threshold of the runway, shaking the very earth beneath, exhausts beating against the inside of her breastplate. The airliner charged skyward, blowing hot flame from its exhaust.

Jet and KJ gleaned at each other, sharing a smile followed by a giddy giggle, momentarily forgetting the weight of the world beyond the airport fence.

“Ten thousand horsepower,”

“Easily,” Jet nodded.

Following it, a shining silver single-seater special with a silently spinning propeller. The cockpit had been set back into the tail, with a long nose reaching forward. A razor-thin pair of scimitar wings seemed almost too small to carry it skyward.

Everything between the pilot and the propeller had been given over to housing the powercells that’d propelled it to first place at the National Championships. The old warbirds had been shocked by the electric newcomer.

It launched with a whisper from a silenced propeller. The Experimental Aircraft Association had to live up to its name. Wave-derived technology had begun to trickle down to reality and become normal.

The world changed, but people remained the same.

“How do you even begin to deal with that?” Jet said.

“I was speaking to Mal about that,” said KJ, a knowing smirk crawling across his lips “After watching the news reports, we decided get our own heavy-lift capability.”

“Your own Seven Four?” Jet made the natural assumption. “I heard Artemis ordered two for the Graces, and O’Neill got his name down before Noah Scott could.”

A waiting list had begun to form.

KJ answered with a dismissive shrug. “Like I said, dealing with Boeing, Uncle Sam and the Capitalist agenda.”

“It’s a pain in the arse,” Jet admitted, taking along breath. “If not a Seven-Four?” she glanced around the airfield, as if looking for inspiration for the collection of parked aircraft. “I know there’s a stranded Antonov or two.”

“Those ones are still Russian-owned,” said KJ, killing the idea quick. “With liens on them.”

And they’re on the international shitlist. In the political boo-box. Bad Karma to openly deal with. At least as long as the cost of accepting public outrage, outweighed the profit to be made.

“Are you going to leave me in suspense?” Jet placed a hand on her hips.

“Ptichka had an old friend,” he answered.

Jet blinked owlishly. It took far too long for the penny to drop. “You’re shittin’ me?” she said, her eyes widening as the realisation finally took hold. “I know O’Neill asked but the door got slammed in his face.”

“A personal plea from Ptichka carries a surprising amount of weight.” KJ Chuckled. “Actually having a plan to rebuild her and put her to work in a way that benefited all parties, rather than using someone’s national treasure and symbol of reconstruction as a personal statement of obscene wealth helps”

Not being an arsehole opened far more doors than half a billion dollars.

“So when’s she going to be finished?”

“Do not mistake me for some Republic serial villain….” K.J. quoted, with a villainous flourish “She took off six hours ago.”

After three months, Antares had just become yesterday’s news. In the back of her mind, Jet privately had hoped those few moments in the sun might’ve lasted a little bit longer. The sense of being overshadowed and deposed stirred a simmering pot of jealous resentment

Jet pursed her lips for a moment, long enough to let the feeling come of the boil. That wasn’t how real people were supposed to feel or think.

She glanced back at the suits proudly talking up Antares as the next big thing, completely unaware of what was about to hit them.

“Boeing’s going to pissed at their carefully managed corporate event being upstaged,” she said, after a few seconds.

KJ smirked. “Mal’s idea.”

Jet raised an eyebrow

“Have to stick it to the capitalists and all that.” K.J explained.

“Ah….”

Jet took a breath.

The AI in her muse selected one transmission from the ordered chaos of AirVenture ATC as worthy of her interest, filtering by recent conversations and known interests.

“Wittman Approach, Alpha-November-225. Good afternoon We have information Foxtrot. Expect Visual Approach, Runway 36-Left.”


It couldn’t be. In a heartbeat, Jet’s misgiving vapurised. A ripple of excitement rolled across the crowd, chased by a heartbeat of disbelief.

“Alpha November-225. Latest information is information Foxtrot. Cleared Visual approach to 36-Left” The approach controller paused, to give space for comprehension. . “Welcome Back Mirya”

Even the sputtering engines went silent as thousands of heads craned upwards in unison, like meerkats on the serengeti, each one craving that first look.

Jet bit down on the urge to launch herself skyward, and be the one to claim it. One wandering video-drone had been enough to ground the entire show for an hour - nobody would appreciate an over-eager combat cyborg doing the same thing.

“Cleared Visual Approach 36 Left, Alpha November 225. Thank you very much,” answered the Antonov. Jet thought she recognised the voice, but couldn’t quite place it. “It is good to be back”

Anyone who could, had already started to either run to the best vantage points. Even with Mirya still more than 20 miles out, and several arrivals back in the queue, anything and everything which had happened, and which was due to happen over the course of the week of the show would be forgotten the moment she landed.

Unless someone made an unholy Kandorcon-level mess.

“People need things that inspire the best in them. Rather than things that just reflect how unhappy they are.” said KJ. “Sometimes that’s a story. Sometimes it’s an action. Sometimes it makes the world better. Sometimes it’s just something awesome.”

“Maybe…” Jet began, before realising she had no idea how she intended to finish that sentence. She stood, watching the skies, overcome by the sense that something uniquely important had been missing from her life for longer than she could remember. "Everybody needs some sort of dream, I guess."

Made a change from the nightmares

-----



I've been banding around this for a few months. Went a few darker places, a few rantier places. I suppose it ended up here. Thought I'd try right a nicer, upbeat story rather than something that reflected how I feel about things. I dunno. People are long gone. Silence answers. Such is life.

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  Random years after eighteen thoughts of anime conventions
Posted by: Dartz - 03-26-2023, 04:18 PM - Forum: General Chatter - Replies (11)

Random thoughts from 18 years of anime cons. Friday'll be the last one I go to.

---
-Attended first ever run of a con in 2005
-Pure desolation. But it existed
-Kept conbook for the last 18 years for no reason
-Completely useless memento
-
-Attended con in Feb 2007.
-Pedobear Cosplayer with kid on leash
-Things that'd get you kicked out today
-He was kicked out then too
-
-Yaoi. That's a paddlin
-
-Staffed con one year
-Got so drunk in the pub quiz I fell off stool and concussed myself for a week
-
-Cosplayer brings airsoft sniper rifle to con as prop
-Aim it from the top balcony at the con-directors head and rack the bolt.
-Squeeze trigger
-*Click*
-Hand it back to Cosplayer and politely tell him not to get fucking caught with a live rifle at an anime convention.
-(Not america lol)
-Would've missed anyway. I'm a bad shot.
-
-Con in a shitty hotel
-Fire alarm flooded due to heavy rain
-Everyone had to run outside in the rain five times on Saturday because lol fire-alarm randomly triggering
- Fire alarm disabled for entire hotel.
- That con died 8 years ago
-
-Otaku Con *existed*
-Claimed to have permission from Otakon
-According to someone involved in Otakan I may have inadvertently made aware of this - they didn't
-Name changed to Kaos Con
-Worst con ever. Didn't even have ballpit
-Owner threated to sue /CGL/ for deformation[sic] because of all the shitstirrers there
-Owner a known dickhead
-
-Spent an entire saturday drinking a bottle of whiskey from a flask
-Best saturday ever. Actually talked with people
-
-Someone paid full price to enter The Con at 15:00 on Sunday - an hour before the closing ceremony. Why?
-
-Attended last run of a con in 2016.
-A large number of the photographs in the 'goodbye' reel came from me.
-
-Due to drive everyone to Con Friday morning. 3 hour drive
-Spent Thursday evening drinking the guts of a bottle of whiskey
-Woke up Stocious. Rawest hangover ever
-Got a feed of fry in me and managed to keep it down
-Blew clear on the breathalyser
-Drove like death warmed up for three hours and passed out in the B&B
-Went at it again that night
-
-Con has pub quiz
-Prize is a voucher for free drink at the bar
-No value limit
-Win Pub Quiz by being Peak Weeb
-"Two of your most expensive whiskey please"
-Con director couldn't believe we did it. (But would've done the same himself)
-
-Take photo of cosplayer with film camera
-Cosplayer doesn't understand concept of film
-Demands to see it, snatches camera from my hand and opens the back
- Well, they're all ruined. Idiot
-
I've only ever spoken with two guests at a con
-Vic Mignonga (In 2008 I think, when I was staff at the con.)
-Todd Habercorn (In 2015, when the con had a VIP ticket option and a personal meet and greet with the guests was the only thing it got you)
I didn't want to be around either of them and I’m so fat they'd drop me on Nagasaki
-
-Got drunk in con-bar one year Todd Habercorn came
-Sang free-bird while he tried to sing with his band
-Someone called us a bunch of idiots in an online review.
-
Only record of a local con ever existing is that it's mentioned in the Evangelion 2.22 Blu-ray Director's commentary.
-
-The only time I ever managed to cosplay was as a TF2 engineer (Back when it was still popular)
-Made a prop-wrench out of scrap hardwood that was heavy enough to kill if swung with vigour.)
-Con took it on the first day.
-David Bowie lookalike won the competion
-I was just a fat guy in duct-tape goggles and dungarees, with computer parts hanging from my belt.
-Everyone enjoyed it.
-
-Worldcon 2019
-Have more intelligent discussins in the bar than I'd had in the last 10 years
-Artistic merit of using film in cameras
-How an RBMK reactor explodes
-'Bless your heart'
-Ginger Buchanan
-Different vibe
-
-Had intended 2020 to be my last con trip
-The Inconveniences ended that
-This year will have to do
-Just don't feel like part of it anymore
-Such is life

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  My ideas
Posted by: ModularMansion - 03-26-2023, 03:06 PM - Forum: Fenspace - Replies (9)

I'd like to contribute to Fenspace.

My first idea is a simple one for Pulpers.

"Skippers" will be the header title on the page, and it will be an SCP Foundation subfaction. However, it won't be the only one, seeing as how the SCP community has been historically divided across websites in real life. I want to make other SCP groups within bigger factions, such as the Wizarding World (because of Serpent's Hand and Wanderer's Library) and Village Hidden in Asteroids (because of SCP-JP deliberately being patterned off of supernatural anime and manga sometimes, and SCP-CN having character archetypes from Chinese action fantasy such as xian immortals).

This is my writeup.

Skippers (header)

These Pulpers are similar to Foglios in that their fannishness revolves around a modern, online property: the SCP Foundation. However, the loose canon and dark nature of SCP means the fen who want to bring its more optimistic memes into space are inherently divided, and the Skippers are certainly not the only SCP-related group in Fenspace. Other groups are almost always contained within a specific faction, however, whereas the Skippers are an interfactional group which has sometimes aided the mysterious Fivers and tend to stick together in mysterious, anti-authoritarian secret societies and settlements distant from the reach of factional leadership. However, the Skippers have often suffered because they are a group that rejects hierarchy for the most part because they see the bureaucracy of the Foundation as a tragedy that should be avoided in the real world.

Their lack of leadership has led to many of their settlements suffering from starvation over the years, although no deaths from it have occurred as of yet. Skipper settlements have a special relationship with major fen companies and space venture capitalists for reasons faction leadership and most Skippers want to keep secret. These external groups are generally the main provider of resources to Skipper settlements.

Many Skippers who snitch tell stories about transhuman experiments and largely ineffective plans to make an army of cyborg soldiers for a variety of purposes which differ between the fen telling the stories. Using them as slave bodyguards to be loaned to those who need them, surveillance tools, and even a tool to somehow extort the entire human race and AI into giving them money and resources with their military strength. Given what is known about Fenspace's countermeasures to such things, these tales are unlikely at best and no Skipper who has told one has ever been harassed or disowned by another Skipper. Regardless, this group's plans are unlike any other in the solar system and seem intriguing.

No Skipper who is not part of a secret society has done anything of political significance, and even most society Skippers follow the same path. However, a select few societies have done things like network with Fivers and aid them in ways no member of the two factions is willing to discuss or knows anything about. These "elite" Skippers are generally seen as the highest members of the group, regardless if they live in a Skipper settlement or not, and the only known exception to their anti-hierarchy beliefs among most Skippers, although they have no special role in actually leading Skipper settlements. The Skippers who have provided aid to the Fivers are mostly diplomats, and their unorthodox views on government and society have hindered as much as they have helped Fiver diplomats.

The name of the group originates from the Tale (the term used to describe an online story on the SCP Wiki that does not follow the office form format of the typical SCP entry, and which are usually more grounded than the stories accepted on the Wanderer's Library website) UIU Orientation.

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  How to log onto the Fenspace website
Posted by: ModularMansion - 03-26-2023, 11:55 AM - Forum: Fenspace - Replies (1)

Hello. I am a new Drunkard's Walk member. I would like to edit the Fenspace Wiki because I have some OC ideas.

How would I do that?

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  How the Internet Archive faces potential destruction at the hands of Big Four publish
Posted by: robkelk - 03-22-2023, 06:00 AM - Forum: General Chatter - Replies (3)

The Register: How the Internet Archive faces potential destruction at the hands of Big Four publishers

Quote:The central question in the case, as summarized during oral arguments by Judge John Koeltl, is: does a library have the right to make a copy of a book that it otherwise owns and then lend the ebook it has made without a license from the publisher to patrons of the library?

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  cover: I Will Survive performed by Tragedy
Posted by: classicdrogn - 03-17-2023, 01:14 PM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play - No Replies


non-embedded

What do you say, Bob, increased/reduced effect, or something different entirely?

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  utility (perfect/shared memory): Time In A Bottle by Jim Croce
Posted by: classicdrogn - 03-16-2023, 04:21 AM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play - No Replies


non embedded

This one's old and well known enough that Doug may well already have a power from it, but I came up with a good one just now... and then I went and over-complicated everything thinking about the rules and exceptions and just RPG nerd things, but basically, Doug was feeling really homesick at some point in the Walk, and/or tried this as a gate song based on the repeated calls to spend time with the singer's loved one(s), but instead what it does is one of two things: First, to allow him to pull up the memory of a single sequence of events in the last 24 hours, up to the full duration, and encapsulate it for perfect recall at any later time; or second, to replay one of these memories for himself and/or someone else.

Not the way he intended to "look around enough" or "have enough time to do all the things you want to do" let alone "save every day and then spend them with you," but at least ten times better than a holiday photo album, and having its own strategic utility for after action reports, incident analysis, and general information gathering. It might interact with a Pensieve in an interesting way, too, or be inspired by them if it only comes in after the HP Step.

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  The history of the nations in one line
Posted by: Dartz - 03-15-2023, 03:11 PM - Forum: General Chatter - No Replies

Not sure if any of these are funny....


-----
British History:
So we just showed up uninvited and made the place our own for a couple of centuries. Savages didn’t even welcome us.

American History:
All men are created equal* (Terms and conditions may apply. See fine print. )

French History:
They call it a revolution. IBecause we wend up right back where we started.

German History:
Once again, Europe is at war.

Austrian History:
Did we start that?

Swiss History:
500 years of peace and brotherly love have given us - a fancy watch.

Belgian History:
Would like you to laugh it off as Germany’s bypass - pay no attention to the Ghost of King Leopold there.

Dutch History:
Never living the tulip thing down

Spanish History:
Arrives in America like the full stop at the end of a sentence.

Portuguese History
Finders Keepers

Irish History:
Right lads, we're leaving - again.

Italian History
Remember when we ruled the known world?

Greek History
Remember who ruled it before Italy?

Iranian History
Yes.

Russian History:
Take a drink when it gets worse.

Ukrainian History:
Desperately trying not to become Russian History

Polish History:
Desperately trying to remain Polish History

Balkan History:
A Tesla Fire.

Japanese History:
We're special. Nothing ever happened. Lets just keep that quiet. Lets never talk about it.....

Chinese History:
...and then millions died.

Australian History:
A thirty thousand year dream fucked by one British cunt's Endeavour

New Zealand History:
Getting annoyed when mistaken for Aussie history.

Indian History.
The difference between 25% of the world economy, and 7% is the British Empire.

Middle Eastern History:
A 3000 year stew of paternalist foreign intervention and religious fundamentalism.

Arabian History:
Camel-Camel-Camel-Car-Private Jet-America-Camel-Camel

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  2016-11-17: Life Off Mars
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 03-10-2023, 04:35 PM - Forum: Stories - No Replies

7 Henrietta Street
Dublin, Ireland
November 17, 2016
3:47 PM


"I'm coming, I'm coming," Meg muttered to herself as the pounding at 7 Henrietta's front door obstinately refused to stop. "Hold on, damn you," she growled when she reached door and began to flip all the various latches. The sound of the locks opening apparently satisfied whoever was on the other side of the door, because the pounding abruptly stopped.

Meg swung the door open and stared balefully at the man on the stoop. He had short-cut hair of a shade halfway between brown and dirty blond, atop a sharp-featured face. His head was canted forward slightly and he studied her from under his beetled brows. He wore a long glossy black leather jacket of a vaguely retro cut over a new-looking black T-shirt, along with dark grey slacks and loafers. She looked him over head to toe then said, "Yes?"

"You Meg Deckard?" he asked a bit gruffly. He had a Mancunian accent, out of place in Dublin.

"I am," she allowed. "And you are?"

He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself, then drew a worn black ID case from his right jacket pocket. "I'm Inspector Sam Tyler, with the Garda," he said, displaying an ID that agreed that this was the case. "Except I'm not."

"Oh?" Meg raised an eyebrow, silently thanking Data for the snippet of biomimetic programming that let her do so.

He growled and scrubbed his face with one hand as he slid the ID back in his pocket with the other. "I'm screwing this up. Let me start again. My name is Sam Tyler. In 2006 I was a DCI with the Greater Manchester Police. After I was hit by a car, I woke up in 1973 as a DC in the Manchester and Salford Police. I was stuck in the 1970s for three years, then I got shot while trying to take down a suspect." He drew a deep sigh and scrubbed his face again. "I woke up an hour ago on a park bench here in Dublin. In one pocket I had an ID that says I'm an Inspector in the Garda, and in the other I found a piece of paper with your name, this address, and 'She'll understand' all written on it." The glowering expression on his face broke, replaced by confusion and near panic. "The newspapers I saw on my way here say it's 2016." He shook his head. "I've got to know -- am I mad, in a coma, or traveling in time?"

Meg took this all in, then slowly nodded. She stepped back and opened the door wide. "I think you'd better come on in," she said.

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  New video from Doki Doki Productions!
Posted by: robkelk - 03-08-2023, 12:09 PM - Forum: Anime Music Videos - Replies (2)

Yes, after a dozen years, Tim Park has created a new AMV. "A Space Pirate Scorned", featuring (as you may have guessed from the title) the characters from Tenchi Muyo!

I'm going to have to hang a NSFW tag on this one for the lyrics. The visuals are fine.




Non-embedded

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