>>4415062
>>3. Use your communicator and put up a job listing. You can only offer borderline illegal wages, a cramped room on your ship, and a few burgers a day, but you're sure whatever employees apply will be the creme of the crop.

>>4415062
>3. Use your communicator and put up a job listing. You can only offer borderline illegal wages, a cramped room on your ship, and a few burgers a day, but you're sure whatever employees apply will be the creme of the crop.

>>4415131
>>4415176
You boot up your communicator and post a job application on one of the few sites you're familiar with on the MilkyNet™ from your time period. You make sure to upsell all the amazing upsides of working at McSpacies- free room and board, no tracking chip implants, and even half-price access to funeral services through approved providers! Unfortunately these perks don't appear to be as amazing selling points as you thought, but after an afternoon of flipping through the franchisee manual and setting up shop, you get five applications. That's when you're informed that your free trial has run out, and that you have to pay 1000 credits to keep your listing up. Figuring that five is enough you opt to take the listing down and begin sorting through the applications. There's only enough charge in your teletron to transport three employees here, so hopefully they know what they're doing.

Pick up to three employees to hire:
>This application arrived through the telefax completely covered in a sticky blue goop which almost made the machine burst into flames. There's nothing written on, but there's a picture of an oversized slime monster attached. Along with it is a voice recording of some unsettling glorps and other slime noises which your communicator can't decode.
>A "Dark Lord Valtross" sent an application in. Apparently he has prior experience at a different restaurant, but his massive cape seems like a fire hazard and he's a convicted felon. You're not sure what he was convicted for, but you guess it can't be too bad?
>You received a picture of an oversized roomba with a variety of odd attachments poking out of it. The owner wants to get rid of the thing because he's moving into a sector that has restrictions on Class Z4 weapons, whatever that means. He'll sell it to you for a couple months worth of wages.
>Bob sent you an application. Bob is naked and disheveled in his photo and you can't make out most of what he's saying in the attached recording because he's mumbling. Still, what you do get is that he's willing to work for even less than what you're offering as long as he can run a side business out the back. You guess you might not mind, you've heard of combination restaurants before, maybe he's interested in starting one of those with you?
>An old man wearing goggles and a lab coat who simply calls himself "The Doctor" sent in the final application. He says that he's a history buff, and seeing a vintage McSpacies like yours has him excited. He has no experience in your field, but he's willing to resign from his laboratory and teleport over immediately, free of charge, as long as you don't interrupt his research.

>>4415195
>Everyone and pay them below minimum wage

>>4415195
>Slime monster, Roomba, & The doctor
Slime monster takes care of trash, roomba will be the cook, & the doctor shall take orders in front

>>4415244
>>4415303
You need all the help you can get, but you still have your bottom line. You haven't built up enough rapport with this Bob fellow to feel comfortable sharing your business with him, and you have some hangups with hiring who, upon a quick lookup, is a 4076-time convicted felon.

You contact "The Doctor", the blob-thing you'll just refer to as "Gloop" for now, and the roomba's owner. The first to come through the teletron is the roomba, which is sent immediately after you pay for it. The thing is several feet across, and is covered in a variety of buttons and switches. Chief among these buttons is a massive red button in a glass case which is simply labeled: "Press in case of emergency". Interesting. Beneath the buttons and switches you can just barely make out the letters "Roomie". There's probably more that's covered up, but you guess that's what you'll call it for now.

Just as you're about to give into your urge to press everything on Roomie, The Doctor shows up. Tufts of his grayish-white hair shoot up from his head in every direction, which combined with his singed lab coat makes him look a bit unhinged. You introduce yourself but he ignores you, marveling at your completely ordinary McSpacies location. Among his rant you make out the phrases "Amazingly retro-chic, a slice of vintage Sol-a-cana, and can almost smell the carcinogins". Before you can ask what carcinogins The Doctor is referring to your last employee, Gloop, pops through the teletron.

The teletron makes fizzling noises as Gloop passes through it and almost short-circuits from his(?) goo entering the circuitry. Fortunately it doesn't catch on fire, but even if it wasn't out of power you aren't sure if it would still work. You introduce yourself to Gloop, who responds with a series of deep and growly gloops, glorps, and blorps which you presume are a greeting. As he does so a bit of his slime sprays onto your face. It burns. You are thoroughly intimidated and meekly command Gloop to grab a mop and start cleaning. Upon 'grabbing' the mop with his slimy body, it begins fizzling. He leaves without it.

>>4415244
Backing, sounds like a fun group.

>>4415372
You command The Doctor to command the front while you try to prop the roomba up so that it can cook burgers or something. You would leave it to its normal task of cleaning, but you're afraid Gloop has to take care of that. After all, his only applicable skill seems to be to destroy things. After flipping several buttons and switches which, among other things, deploy a mop, a rapidly rotating saw blade, and a massive disco ball, The Doctor approaches you.

"It's in my best interest to see this place thrive, so I suppose I should offer some help. My hobby is Colonization-era history, but I actually worked at a robotics lab. If you give me a bit then I could figure something out with that robot of yours." As The Doctor says this you see a dangerous glint in his eyes that makes you involuntarily hug Roomie so that he can't grab it.

As you consider The Doctor's offer your communicator starts up and begins speaking without your input. "Now that I'm not busy with the ship, I should have no trouble splitting off some of my processing power to control that robot. Should I?" You're confused for a moment, but then suddenly recall that the voice is that of your virtual assistant, RonAId McSpacie, which was in control during your sleep... and which isn't supposed to have any control over your communicator.
>1. Hand Roomie over to the doctor. He's a professional so you'd feel best giving it to him, even if he seems a bit odd.
>2. Let the AI control Roomie. Even if it is a bit weird, you're just giving it control of a little roomba. Should be safe.
>3. Try to jury-rig something yourself. If you combine the irresistible urge to press buttons and some elbow grease then you're sure you can jury rig something to cook food.
>Write-in

>>4415376
Numbuh one.

>>4415376
>>2. Let the AI control Roomie. Even if it is a bit weird, you're just giving it control of a little roomba. Should be safe.

>>4415380
>>4415386
You don't completely trust The Doctor with this roomba, especially since you already gave it a name, but he is a professional so it should be fine. You gingerly hand Roomie to The Doctor, and he smiles as he grabs it. "I'll be done within a few days. Good luck with the customers." The Doctor disappears into the utility closet, his semi-maniacal laughter loud enough that it can be periodically heard from outside.

You're initially worried about holding down the fort with only Gloop to help, but for the better or worse, no one shows up for the next few days. Eventually The Doctor emerges from the store's utility closet, his lab coat even more singed than before and a broad smile on his face.

"That thing is amazing, it really is. It has a retro style, but it was fit with semi-modern parts. And weapons! Lots of weapons! I didn't have the tools to work on it at first, but fortunately McSpacies were built to be self-sufficient for decades at a time- I was able to piece together most of what I needed from in there and use my personal teletron to get what was missing." He pauses upon saying this before handing you a piece of paper. "...On that note, here's a receipt for what I bought." You frown, but don't say anything since it's only around 40,000 credits. Roomie cost much more than that anyways.

You flick a switch on Roomie and a giant whirring sound comes from it before it begins zooming around, several attachments flying about as it does. It flips patties, fries fries, shakes shakes, and even cleans the ice cream machine! That thing is never clean! You're satisfied with the work, especially when The Doctor clarifies that it's a preprogrammed routine and not true AI. They may be 40,000 year old laws, but laws are laws and you can't let an AI man the nuclear deep fryer.

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Four days later a small space ship passes by. It stops by the drive-thru window, which The Doctor excitedly approaches in uniform. Due to his obsessive study of your franchisee's manual he recites a phrase in perfect 23rd-century English so well that your communicator doesn't even need to help you understand:
"Welcome to McSpacies, may I take your order!"
"Er, yeah, I'll have the Number #5 combo. Fer the drink could I get a large Sploop, no ice."
What ensues are some of the most angry and confusing diatribes you think you've ever heard. The Doctor calmly states that McSpacies has no Sploop, but that they have Cokesi, Sprite, Diet Cokesi, and Mountain Bull among many other beverages. The space trucker in the drive thru becomes enraged in response to this, wondering how any restaurant, even a backwater one he's never heard of, doesn't carry Sploop. The Doctor responds to this with a rant about the glory of Cokesi and Mountain Bull, beverages which were descended from the 21st Century's "Big Four", and which later turned into a beverage which defined the Early Colonization Era- Red Coksi Mountain. This does nothing to calm the space trucker, who is now confused AND angry. Gloop is simply making disturbing slime noises and rhythmically moving his head in the back. He could either be commenting on what's going on or singing some pop song. You don't know.

>1. Watch this play out. This is a disaster but you can't intervene. Either the trucker will storm off or The Doctor will sell him on the glory of 23rd-century beverages. There's no other outcome.
>2. Get The Doctor away from the Drive Thru and give the trucker half off his order. You can't afford a shitty review from your first customer. You really don't wanna be stuck with only Roomie for company until you die. Well, if dying is still a thing- maybe they fixed that by now.
>3. Get The Doctor away from the Drive Thru and inform the trucker that you do, in fact, carry Sploop. You have no idea what it is, but fuck it, you'll make it!
>4. Get Gloop to take over, you need to stall for time to calm The Doctor down and think of a plan.
>Write-in

>>4415523
>>4. Get Gloop to take over, you need to stall for time to calm The Doctor down and think of a plan.


Gloop seems like he has the rythm to shake this interaction.

>>4415523
>1. Watch this play out. This is a disaster but you can't intervene. Either the trucker will storm off or The Doctor will sell him on the glory of 23rd-century beverages. There's no other outcome.

>>4415523
>>3. Get The Doctor away from the Drive Thru and inform the trucker that you do, in fact, carry Sploop. You have no idea what it is, but fuck it, you'll make it!

>>4415550
Changing to support
>>4415548
Ya let's believe in Gloop
We need a way to communicate with him

>>4415554
We can ask the Doctor if he knows the ingredients in Sploop & who manufactures the drink so we can make a business call if this drink is popular

Was gonna update once more tonight but something came up irl, will resume tomorrow.

>>4415715
>but something came up irl,

the qm curse

>>4415523
>4. Get Gloop to take over, you need to stall for time to calm The Doctor down and think of a plan.

>>4415548
Support
>>4415715
QM curse strikes once more

This is a disaster- you need to figure out something, and fast. Panicking, you drag away The Doctor and gesture for Gloop to take his place while you figure something out. Gloop blurbles as he heads up to the drive-thru window, while The Doctor is still ranting on about the cultural importance of Cokesi and Mountain Bull to the beginning of the Early Colonization Era.

You tell The Doctor to calm the fuck down, a sentiment which he doesn't appreciate, and he begins speaking to you about how you should appreciate your own time period more. Annoyed, you shut him down. "Cokesi and Mountain Bull were shit anyways. I drank ginger ale. Now shut up, they're customers, and the customer is occasionally right, as per the Retail Conventions of 2196." A fond look fills The Doctor's eyes as he reflects on your words. "Ah, yes, the optimistic attitude of 40,000 years ago, when the customer was occasionally right. How could I be such a fool- I'm trying to blend into ancient society but I forgot something so important." Having somehow worked out the problem, you glance back at the drive-thru window to see how Gloop is faring.

Without you noticing, Gloop has erupted into a wide variety of his deep, terrifying slime noises. At first you think he's threatening the man in the drive-thru, but then you realize that despite its terrifying auditory qualities, you're mistaken- Gloop is beat-boxing. This seems to have calmed the space trucker's rage, and after a minute you hear him speak. "That's a pretty sick beat. Fist bump man."

A hairy fist shoots through the drive-thru window, aiming to fist bump Gloop. Unfortunately Gloop doesn't respond to this, and it just sinks into his face instead. The hairs on the fist rapidly burn away, and the space trucker lets out of scream of terror which rapidly transforms into an off-putting moan as he pulls his hand out. He doesn't speed away in terror after this, but instead calmly finishes his order and allows your franchise to complete the first of many sales!

You're confused by what just happened and figure that that was the end of it, but contrary to your expectations that space trucker becomes your first regular. Whenever a route takes him past your sector he'll pop in, swear The Doctor out, and then get Gloop to take his order. He always fist bumps him despite knowing the intense burning sensation his hand will go through. He doesn't seem to mind. You aren't inclined to ask about it.

After the space trucker, who you later learned was referred to as 'Big Joe', stops by your store a few times, you get a chance to ask him why he came here in the first place. Did the advertising beacon reel him in or was it something else? Confused, he replies that he didn't get any ads, he just saw the place on his radar.

Confused by your advertising beacon's failure to reel in any customers, you do some reading and find out something terrible- ad block has gone a long way in the past 40,000 years. Ad blockers have been installed on every single space ship for thousands upon thousands of years, and since your advertising beacon was the very first model ever made, it can't pierce through any of them. At this rate you won't get any customers!
>1. Screw the advertising beacon. Modern problems call for modern solutions. Maybe you can make something so visible that it draws in customers from all around- kinda like those big neon signs that stores used to have on Earth.
>2. Suck it up and buy a newer model. It'll take a lot of money that you would rather spend moving your restaurant somewhere where you don't need an advertising beacon, but you don't have much of a choice.
>3. An advertising beacon isn't the only way to advertise! Buy a bunch of communicators and start making sock puppet accounts on the MilkyNet™ promoting your McSpacies.
>Write-in
>>4415718
>>4416073
fucking QM curse spreading coronavirus onto my campus

>>4416578
>1. Screw the advertising beacon. Modern problems call for modern solutions. Maybe you can make something so visible that it draws in customers from all around- kinda like those big neon signs that stores used to have on Earth.

Is word of mouth an option? Maybe Big Joe can tell his friends?

>>4416578
>>3. An advertising beacon isn't the only way to advertise! Buy a bunch of communicators and start making sock puppet accounts on the MilkyNet™ promoting your McSpacies.

>>4416578
>1. Screw the advertising beacon. Modern problems call for modern solutions. Maybe you can make something so visible that it draws in customers from all around- kinda like those big neon signs that stores used to have on Earth.
We should have some kinda special deal to attract customers but i'm not sure what

>>4416646
>>4416672
If advertising beacons have already been countered by ad blockers for 40,000 years, what's to say whatever model you buy won't be obsolete within the year? It's not practical to drop that much on a new one when it might just stop working like your current one. Modern problems require modern solutions. More permanent ones. You're gonna come up with something yourself, something that will make your McSpacies unique!

You spend the next couple days brewing over ideas to attract more customers besides Big Joe. You did indirectly ask if he could refer his friends to your place, but upon the mention of friends he seemed to get extremely sad. You guess he doesn't have any of those. Poor guy. You did manage to ask about his radar more though, and after a few days of searching for information on the MilkyNet™ you figure out how they work. They identify objects within the surrounding sector, and then analyze their material and structure to categorize them between classifications such as 'manmade structure', 'space junk', 'asteroid', and so on and so forth. Most people only have the first classification show up on their radar, as that's the most practical. If you make a bunch of signs pointing towards your McSpacies that are just big enough to be classified as structures and not space junk, then on the surface it will look like there's an entire trading post here! You'll get more customers in no time, even if they might be a little disappointed at first. You can even make up some deal to put on the sign and entice them- everybody loves to think that they're saving money.

As you draw up ideas for this plan The Doctor brings an idea of his to your consideration. Many different radars and sensors are installed in every spacefaring vessel. Radiation sensors are one of these. People normally avoid irradiated areas, but there are a lot of researchers and rubberneckers who will stay at the outskirt of the radioactive area. Theoretically, if you bought a large quantity of nuclear weapons and then detonated them in space at the right distance from your McSpacies, then it would attract rubberneckers and maybe even a research post- after all, there aren't many irradiated areas like that, they're generally only found at 3rd and 4th century battlefields.

>>4416808
You write The Doctor's idea down, and as you do you think you hear Gloop 'say' something about it, but then realize he's just beatboxing. He's been doing that a lot lately. Although that does give you another idea...

>1. Get scrap and other materials shipped in by merchant ships and start constructing dozens and dozens of signs that will be picked up on radar. Your ship doesn't move fast enough to spread them yourself, but if you give Big Joe a book of coupons he could be persuaded to help you put them in place.
>2. Go with The Doctor's idea- it's batshit insane but it might just work. Apparently modern vessels have a lot of radiation shielding and with modern military technology most nuclear weapons are just sold as big fireworks. This will cost about as much as making the signs anyways.
>3. Record Gloop beatboxing and upload it onto the MilkyNet™ . If you make enough social media and push it hard enough then maybe he can become the attraction you need. You're not sure if he approves of the idea but, uh, he seems to enjoy beatboxing if nothing else.
>Write-in

>>4416811
>>2. Go with The Doctor's idea- it's batshit insane but it might just work. Apparently modern vessels have a lot of radiation shielding and with modern military technology most nuclear weapons are just sold as big fireworks. This will cost about as much as making the signs anyways.

>>4416811
>2. Go with The Doctor's idea- it's batshit insane but it might just work. Apparently modern vessels have a lot of radiation shielding and with modern military technology most nuclear weapons are just sold as big fireworks. This will cost about as much as making the signs anyways.
We should ask the doc if he can make a communicater or something like it so we can understand gloop

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>>4416877
>>4416882
>>4416907
You were pretty proud of all your sign designs and research, but the prospect of getting to see thousands of nuclear weapons go off at once is extremely tempting. You get The Doctor's help with purchasing the weapons, which you have to do through several dozen sites that sell party supplies or weird odds and ends. While you're at it you also order several bottles of cancer pills, which are offered at a discount with some of your purchases. The radiation shielding on a McSpacies is much worse than modern structures, so you might need them.

Over the next weeks various ships dock at the restaurant, leave behind massive amounts of nuclear weaponry, and then take their leave. After their arrival you tow the weapons away with your ship, slowly moving them into position on an uninhabited planet nearby.

After three weeks of this everything is in place and the planet you chose is essentially just a giant bomb waiting to be lit. You get Gloop, The Doctor, and Roomie onto the ship and close the store for the day so you can all enjoy the light show. Half a day's journey later you're in place, and everyone is excitedly staring at the planet. You grab Roomie, lift the glass cover on its back, and get ready to press the big red button labeled "Press in case of emergency" underneath. Apparently it does something cool, although The Doctor refuses to tell you what beforehand.

Upon pressing the button an ungodly loud sound comes out from Roomie, who begins transforming. The endless buttons and switches are pulled inward, and you drop Roomie as it begins to expand outward. After a few seconds Roomie finishes transforming. Now it's no longer an oversized Roomba, but a seven-feet tall mini mecha. Mouth still wide open, you struggle to cram yourself into the mech. Fortunately while cramped, it's big enough for you to fit inside.

You fly out of the ship and speed around inside Roomie like a kid playing with his new toy, haphazardly pressing and pulling anything in sight. That's when a few coincidental button presses cause Roomie's arms to merge together and transform into a giant laser cannon. You hesitantly aim it towards the planet you were going to detonate and press what you assume is the fire button. A laser shoots out, and within seconds your vision is filled with nuclear hellfire. You down a few cancer pills as you watch on, eyes wide. Nuclear weapons are really pretty when they aren't killing people!

The explosions continue for around half an hour before everything clears up. The planet that was there before is gone, and your ship's radar is showing that the space around it is so radioactive that you'd die if you tried to go much closer. Outing over, you return home, gushing over how fun it was and wondering if you can find an excuse to nuke something else in the future.

Your plan to create a tourist attraction doesn't work immediately, and the next few days are relatively peaceful. In that time you bring up the problem of Gloop being impossible to communicate with to The Doctor, but he's as stumped as you are. He has one of the best communicators on the market and it does absolutely nothing to interpret Gloop, nor does it recognize any of the noises he makes as speech. You're frustrated by the problem, but you guess you just have to deal with it for now. At least it seems like he can understand you. Maybe you'll be able to convince him to do two weird noises for yes and three for no, or something like that. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would definitely help.

As you work on your interpersonal problems and covertly post about your new landmark online, your first rubbernecker arrives. "Whoooo-wee, was passing by when I saw those ruins- looks recent! Y'all have any idea what caused that? It sure is a neat sight, that it is." The rubbernecker's comments on the planet you nuked to shreds are made alongside his order of a Number #12 with an extra order of fries, which makes him your second customer.
>1. No idea what caused it. The planet was there one day, then gone the next. It sure is a mystery.
>2. Well, there was this giant battleship class spaceship that was propelling itself using nukes, when suddenly one got caught in its engine...
>3. Oh, that was 100% me. It really was pretty to watch it all explode. You like it?
>Write-in

>>4417109
>1. No idea what caused it. The planet was there one day, then gone the next. It sure is a mystery.

>>4417109

>>Well it was an accident while testing my mech suit i discovered it had a laser cannon and decided to fire it at the planet but it seems Someone left some nukes there & a pretty firework show happened you should have seen it, it was beautiful
If this is not good then go with
>1. No idea what caused it. The planet was there one day, then gone the next. It sure is a mystery.

>>4417109
>>1. No idea what caused it. The planet was there one day, then gone the next. It sure is a mystery.

>>4417135
>>4417181
>>4417282
>>4417364
It's best that what happens remains shrouded in mystery. It's more interesting that way. "I don't have a clue. It was there one day, and then the next it was in bits. Sure is mysterious." The man nods sagely at this reply. "Sure is. I really love mysteries like these. Reminds me of that thing on Omegicron 8- where everyone disappeared in a single night. Some say it was spontaneous combustion, some blame mass time travel, and others some weird eight-dimensional bullshit. But I just enjoy the discussion."

After the man receives his food he excitedly says he's going to check the ruins out again and takes some photos. Several mystery-seekers and rubberneckers pass by in the following days, and you average nearly a customer a day. You're still far less busy than you would be if the trade route you were relying on was here, but still, it's better than nothing. In your spare time you try to communicate with Gloop a bit (on top of the language barrier he appears to be the 'strong and silent' type, a trait which really doesn't help) and religiously follow the tiny amount of discussion created regarding the planet you blew to smithereens.

As more customers begin popping up, some of the problems inherent with running a 40,000 year old restaurant begin showing themselves. People complaining about inventory (Big Joe still isn't over the lack of Sploop and swears at The Doctor and his entire lineage each visit), comments on the weird aesthetic of the place, and so on and so forth. You think you'd get a lot more repeat business in the future if you changed some things. Still, a slice of history like this has its own appeal, and if you try to change things both The Doctor and your ship's AI will be pissed. Fortunately the latter is locked up on your ship and kept outside the store, but The Doctor would take some convincing.
>1. Your parent company is, as far as you can tell, nonexistent and you need to make money. You're an out of touch 40,000 year old fuck and you need to make some changes to catch up with these goshdarn kids. [Will require rolls to convince the AI and The Doctor to not throw a hissyfit if voted for]
>2. You're already uncomfortable enough having missed society change this much and you like your little corner of space. Even if you'll make less money in the end you want to keep the McSpacies of your memory like this. It has its own appeal.
>3. Slip Sploop and a couple other choice items onto the menu. Change nothing else. Say nothing. Hopefully it will quell some of the unrest in this tiny kingdom of yours.
>Write-in

>>4417493
>1. Your parent company is, as far as you can tell, nonexistent and you need to make money. You're an out of touch 40,000 year old fuck and you need to make some changes to catch up with these goshdarn kids. [Will require rolls to convince the AI and The Doctor to not throw a hissyfit if voted for]
Say that the aesthetic is fine for now since we dont get as much customer & keeping it traditional is nice
But we can add special items as limited time only offers to see which one is favoured by the customers also add a special name to keep with the trend of the restaurant & to convince the doc & a.i say that this is what they do in the past when the brand was popular & all over the place they add items to appeal to the local customers
Hopefully this'll lower the dc

>>4417537
If it works the items that are popular will be added as regular items

>>4417537
Support

>>4417537
>>4417550
Alright, just some probing product changes then?
Can I get two 3d20 rolls, one for The Doctor and one for your ship's corporate AI.

Rolled 3, 6, 10 = 19 (3d20)

>>4417605

>>4417612
>>4417613
I took bo3 so 10 for The Doctor, 15 for the AI then
Will start writing soon

You need to make some changes. They don't have to be big changes, but using a 40,000 year-old business model is bound to fail, especially with things as they are.

You inform the AI of your decision to alter the menu first, hoping that it won't commandeer your ship in the name of McSpacies due to your flagrant disregard of the franchisee's manual. Fortunately it has an amicable reaction to the idea. "I haven't been able to phone home for tens of thousands of years, and as far as I know this is the last McSpacies there is. If it flops, then there won't even be that left. These changes fit within my prime directive." Pleased by the AI's reaction you quickly leave the ship before it changes its mind.

Convincing The Doctor proves to be harder. He is a history buff, and resists any changes to his newfound sanctuary, even minor ones. Still, you're able to bring him around eventually. Even if he works for free, the place needs to earn money. Even if minor changes are made, the soul of the place will still remain- hell, you don't want to try and be hip and modern, even if your biological age is 30 you're technically one of the oldest fuckers alive and you don't even want to know what insane things the kids are up to nowadays.

Having avoided an incident, you buy Sploop and a few other products in bulk. You can't produce them with the McSpacie's facilities like most of the current menu so the margins are worse, but the increased customer satisfaction should be worth it. The day after you add Sploop to the menu Big Joe is greeted, and you see a look of bliss cover his face as he notices Sploop on the menu. He doesn't even swear at The Doctor this time- his motivation to do so is gone.

Big Joe leaves, large Sploop in hand, and later that day you see that he left your first review on the MilkyNet™ .
"4.5/5
Very chill place. Food is good, janitor is a cool dude, and they respond to customer feedback."
Customer feedback your ass, it was all angry swearing. Oh well, 4.5 stars is 4.5 stars, doesn't matter what he said.

>>4417698
Customer satisfaction seems to increase after your minor additions to the menu, and the twice weekly incidents of "You don't carry X?" are reduced somewhat. As you're checking the store's stock, you get a message on the store's communicator- the first one you've gotten since opening in fact.

The message seems to be from a small group that calls themselves "The Truthseekers", and they're interested in renting your McSpacies out for the better part of the week. Apparently they're "interested in the mysterious phenomena nearby" and want to "get to the bottom of whatever dark currents are underfoot". Ie they're interested in the planet you blew up and there is quite literally nowhere else to stay for light years and light years in any direction. They seem to be... out there to say the least, and they're only offering 15,000 credits a day to crash in the front of your store, but it's still more than you'd make serving your one customer a day and they'll probably buy food while they're there.
>1. Fuck it, you need the money, tell them to come over. Your recent invoices for "purchase of employee", "robot power-ups", and "thousands upon thousands of nuclear bombs" did hurt your wallet a little bit. They can't be that bad, right?
>2. Turn them down, you have customers to serve and can't be distracted by their shenanigans. This place can't grow when a bunch of weirdos are hogging the place and stopping you from building reputation.
>3. Tell them to grow up, find a real hobby, and leave you alone. You don't like solicitors, especially when they're trying to undercut you like this. The price is frankly insulting... even if you would benefit from it.
>4. Haggle. You're fine letting them crash here but you're not going to do it for 15,000 credits a day, even if you are a dingy fast food place with no traffic. [Will require a roll.]
>Write-in

That's probably it for the night, cya tomorrow.

>>4417701
Is what we did illegal? You know buying nuclear bombs & exploding a planet cause if so i dont think i want these "truthseekers" finding out the truth
Cool see ya tomorrow qm...maybe

>>4417782
You were kind of curious about that so you poked around a bit online but it's all very confusing and you honestly can't tell. As far as you know nothing there was nothing alive in that area so there are no obvious legal problems with it. The only thing that would indicate that you weren't supposed to blow up a planet with nuclear weapons was that no one place would sell you anywhere near enough nuclear weapons to do it.

>>4417701
>1. Fuck it, you need the money, tell them to come over. Your recent invoices for "purchase of employee", "robot power-ups", and "thousands upon thousands of nuclear bombs" did hurt your wallet a little bit. They can't be that bad, right?
As long as we can also serve normal customers too

>>4417701
>4. Haggle. You're fine letting them crash here but you're not going to do it for 15,000 credits a day, even if you are a dingy fast food place with no traffic. [Will require a roll.]
Might aswell get some more money then
Hmm should we think about getting a defense system in case of robberys since it seems we are getting more well known

>>4417701
>3. Tell them to grow up, find a real hobby, and leave you alone. You don't like solicitors, especially when they're trying to undercut you like this. The price is frankly insulting... even if you would benefit from it.

>>4417701
>4. Haggle. You're fine letting them crash here but you're not going to do it for 15,000 credits a day, even if you are a dingy fast food place with no traffic. [Will require a roll.]

>>4417701
>4. Haggle. You're fine letting them crash here but you're not going to do it for 15,000 credits a day, even if you are a dingy fast food place with no traffic. [Will require a roll.]

Will update after I make lunch and eat. In the meantime can I get three 1d20, bo3 will be taken for your genius haggling skills.

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4418367

Rolled 2, 11 = 13 (2d20)

>>4418367
i'm free now so no sense in waiting too long, I'll just get the rest of the dice over with

These people seem weird and you'd rather not have people living out of your store for the better part of a week, but you could use the money. You do your best to haggle with them, but it's like trying to draw blood from a stone. You do manage to get them up to 17,000 credits a day, a rate which makes you feel marginally better about the imposition.

Not much happens until the day "The Truthseekers" are set to arrive. On that day eight personal cruisers (spaceships large enough to fit in but not large enough to live in) arrive at your store. From inside these cruisers emerge a group of oversized men and women with tinfoil hats and mismatched clothes. You can smell them from across the store, and you instinctively pinch your nose closed in response.

The largest of the group introduces themselves as the leader of the group, and after repeated warnings to keep his name secret in case "evil" catches up with him, he introduces himself as Xarthoplex. His compatriots have similarly incomprehensible names. Confused, you ask The Doctor whether names like those are actually common now. He inform you that they're only common in sci-fi novels.

You do your best to ignore the pungent smell filling your restaurant and wait for the group to leave for the day's research, but as they begin taking odd-looking tools out of the little space they have in their cruisers, your face falls. They're planning to do all their "research" from the comfort of your store. Your nose is practically burning and unless something changes the smell will only get worse.

>1. Do your best to ignore it, you're getting paid. The few customers you get will go through the drive-thru anyways.
>2. Politely inform Xarthoplex and the rest of the "Truth Seekers" that they're free to and in fact highly encouraged to use the shower on your ship.
>3. Passive-aggressively spray air freshener throughout the store until they get the hint.
>4. Inform the group that this arrangement isn't going to work out and give them their money back. This is hell. You want money, but not this bad.
>Other

>>4418481
>>2. Politely inform Xarthoplex and the rest of the "Truth Seekers" that they're free to and in fact highly encouraged to use the shower on your ship.
>>3. Passive-aggressively spray air freshener throughout the store until they get the hint.

>>4418481
>2. Politely inform Xarthoplex and the rest of the "Truth Seekers" that they're free to and in fact highly encouraged to use the shower on your ship.
>3. Passive-aggressively spray air freshener throughout the store until they get the hint.

>>4418481
>3. Passive-aggressively spray air freshener throughout the store until they get the hint.

>>4418577
>>4418589
>>4418710
>>4418717
You can't deal with this for five days. You need to say something. You put on your best retail-worker smile and approach the group, who are currently examing a piece of 'equipment' which appears to be cobbled together from a mixture of wires, car parts, and insanity. "Just so you guys know, you're free to use the shower on my ship if needed. Figured your cruisers might be too cramped to have one." None of them respond, and you pause for a moment before driving the point home a bit less subtly. "So when you need to shower, that's where you go. There's a lot of you so you guys might want to work out a schedule."

You leave the group and return to the still unpleasant, but much better smelling area behind the counter. Most of the group seem to have taken the hint, and once you start spraying terrifying quantities of air freshener throughout the store they begin washing up. All besides one. Xarthoplex, the leader of the group, also appears to be the most abnormal. You probe him to see if he might be planning to take his shower tonight, or maybe even tomorrow morning at the worst, but he seems confused by the question. "Showering? Uh, no thanks, I don't do that. Don't you know what the water out in space is contaminated with? I only clean when have the chance to go back to the all-natural geysers on my home planet." You're afraid of the answer, but his response means you have to ask. "...And when was the last time you were on your home planet?" "About half a year ago? It was a fun getaway. Anyways, leave us alone, we have research to do."

Before you can figure out how to handle Xarthoplex and his madness dinner time comes, and the group orders a feast worthy of 20 men. You're amazed at the sheer amount they eat, especially Xarthoplex. Well, besides one dude who's just having a onions salad. He looks to be on a diet. He was the first to shower too, he seems like a cool dude. Or at least cooler than the rest.

Your rage was somewhat appeased by the sheer amount of food you sold today, but you're angrier than ever when you go to take your shower. The drain is clogged and there's a ton of hair in there. Someone trimmer their damn pubes in your shower. What the fuck.
>1. Alright, eviction time, return the payment for the next four days and drive them off, you can't handle this.
>2. Unclog the drain and steel your mind for the coming days. It's not even about the money anymore, you're not letting these bastards get to you.
>3. Fuck it, shave your pubes in my shower, will you?! Then this is war! Either you'll drive me insane or I'll make the lot of you run away from my restaurant first! Whoever can wait out the next four days is the victor!
>Write-in

>>4418719
>2. Unclog the drain and steel your mind for the coming days. It's not even about the money anymore, you're not letting these bastards get to you.

>>4418727
>>4418731
These guys are pissing you off but you're not going to give up now. It's not about the money anymore- you're running on pure spite. You're better than them and you won't give up!

You put on gloves and clean the shower, storing the pubes and hair left behind in a baggie for later. As a restaurateur it is your god-given right to put disgusting shit in people's food when they offend you, and if they they didn't realize this would happen then that's on them. As you attempt to sleep that night you hear loud chanting and screeching coming from the front of the store. Confused, you glance your head out and see your guests in a circle, jerking about like they're having eight seizures at once and making a cacophony. Exasperated, you flick on the fire sprinklers in the front of the store for a few seconds, interrupting whatever the fuck they're doing, and then turn them off. Hopefully that will quiet them down.

Unfortunately the sprinklers only had a temporary effect, and your desperate act causes Xarthoplex to rant about how he was sullied by "dirty space water" during his "attunement" last night, and about how you need to fix things up around here. As he rants, you blank out and think about simpler times. By the time you finish reminiscing he's gone, excitedly going over some data with the rest of "The Truthseekers".

On the second day, only three of the eight shower despite your passive-aggressive reminders. It seems like your influence is waning. Sanity being worn thin, you glance around. Things are business for usual for Gloop and Roomie, as neither seem to have a sense of smell, but The Doctor disappeared into your ship sometime yesterday and hasn't left since. Fortunately he's usually the only other sentient creature who can see into the kitchen. Now that nobody can see what you're doing, it's time. You sprinkle pubes and hair into their food as stealthily as possible, relieving some of your rage. You're worried at first, but as lunch comes around and "The Truthseekers" shovel food into their mouth in blissful ignorance, you ease up. At least you have this way to relieve some of your anger.

>>4418899
The screeching continues the next night, but with the help of noise-cancelling headphones you power through it. The next morning, however, you see that they crossed your bottom line. At some point, you're not sure when, they poked around in your utility closet and took your old advertising beacon. They then proceeded to tear it apart and use the parts to make more of their "equipment". Despite your death glare, none of them even mention this as you enter the store and stare them down.
>1. Figure out how much the old thing costs and add it to their bill. You couldn't use it anyways. You said you aren't giving in and that's that.
>2. At this rate the place is going to fall apart by the time they're gone. Get the money they owe you and then get them the fuck out of here.
>3. Alright you're not putting up with this shit any longer. Xarthoplex better put em' up, it's time to fight!
>4. Your rage is overflowing. Time to find out exactly what their brand of crazy is and use it against them. You're going to make them have a meltdown.
>Write-in

>>4418900

>1. Figure out how much the old thing costs and add it to their bill. You couldn't use it anyways. You said you aren't giving in and that's that.

We can also pointedly let them know that further damages to our property will result in evictions without refunds. If they raise a stink about it, show off some hidden clauses (they don't need to know that you added them in after the fact) in our contract with them that backs up our claim.

>>4418900
>1. Figure out how much the old thing costs and add it to their bill. You couldn't use it anyways. You said you aren't giving in and that's that.

>>4418971
+1

>>4418971
>>4418981
>>4419130
>>4419142
Well, fuck, you didn't need that old advertising beacon anyways. May as well figure out how much it costs and get the cash from them. You can't just have them keep destroying shit though, you need to make it clear that you're not a doormat.

"If you cause any further damage to my property then I reserve the right to kick you out and keep the money you sent me. Got it?" Most of the group nods their head in response to your stern warning, while Xarthoplex just swears at you under his breath. You think he said something about how you're getting in the way of "proper science" or something, you're not sure. Well, whatever. As long as he pays you then you're fine.

After making sure the store is in tip-top shape you decide to check how much that advertising beacon was worth. What you find surprises you. Apparently the specific model of advertising beacon you own was only produced for a very short time and sent along with less than 100 Early Colonization Era ships. There hasn't been one auctioned for a while, but the last one sold for more than 12 million credits. That's not fuck you money, but that's a lot of money- probably a doctor's yearly salary. This revelation leaves you in a great mood, and now you feel like you can put up with anything. Hell, you don't even have to put pubes in their food to relieve your anger anymore! You still will, but you don't have to!

The next several nights are similarly horrible, and everyone except the dude on a diet stops showering. You make sure to keep the hair out of his onions salad. He still seems okayish even if he's hanging out with a bad crowd. After what seems like an eternity the last day of their stay comes around. On that day the spend the entire day chanting and trying to "summon the warriors of the 8th dimension who created the nuclear battlefield". You sip a beer as you watch them, the promise of 12 million credits making you much more amused by their insanity than you were a few days ago. Unfortunately for them their channeling fails. Some of them seem to have expected this, while some of the more veteran members, especially Xarthoplex, are one the verge of tears. Looks like they actually believe in what they're preaching.

Due to your suffering you've developed Inhuman Patience! Congratulations! [This trait provide special options or bonuses to rolls.]

>>4419272
The next morning it's time for everyone to leave and the front of your store to re-open. As the group packs up, you greet them with a grin on your face. "Xarthoplex, it's a shame to see you go. Anyways, thanks for the business. It's time to settle the bill." As you say this he looks at you, confused. "We already did. I sent you the money to stay here ahead of time and we paid for our food whenever we bought it." You pat him on the shoulder as you get ready to remind him of what he owes. "Remember that advertising beacon you tore apart for parts? I mentioned that you had to pay me back for that, right?" "Er, now that you mention it, you did say something about that. Well, I'm a man of my word and you provided me with valuable resources for our research, so I won't shortchange you. How much do I owe you?"
> 1. "Each and every one of you owes me 1.6 million credits! That was an antique and you guys tore it to pieces! Pay up!"
> 2. "Everybody else is free to go but Xarthoplex, you owe me 12.8 million credits. According to the camera footage you were the person to actually take the thing and destroy it, everyone else just watched." You probably won't be able to squeeze this much money out of him but hey, he was the only one to actually tear it apart, even if no one else attempted to stop him.
> 3. "Nothing actually. The advertising beacon was worth 12.8 million credits, but I'll be a nice guy and take all your personal cruisers as payment. I can probably get between 6 and 8 million for them. Anyways, I called you a ride, you can leave now." Just taking their shit is the easiest option. You can't get all the money they owe you but it's a guaranteed payday and you won't have to go through the trouble of hiring a debt collector if they have trouble putting the money together.
>Write-in

Next update will probably be in the morning. Would've been able to fit another in but I was shanghaied.

>>4419273

> 3. "Nothing actually. The advertising beacon was worth 12.8 million credits, but I'll be a nice guy and take all your personal cruisers as payment. I can probably get between 6 and 8 million for them. Anyways, I called you a ride, you can leave now." Just taking their shit is the easiest option. You can't get all the money they owe you but it's a guaranteed payday and you won't have to go through the trouble of hiring a debt collector if they have trouble putting the money together.

They might have some neetbux in the bank to eventually pay back the whole amount, but fuck em, rather not have to see their sorry unwashed asses ever again. Plus, quick liquid capital will help us get more stuff ready to go for our franchise. Can't buy massive space signage or the industrial cleaners we'll need to wash out the reek without credits in the bank.

>>4419273
>1. "Each and every one of you owes me 1.6 million credits! That was an antique and you guys tore it to pieces! Pay up!"

>>4419273
> Option 2 with a combination of 3 three if he doesn't have the money.

It's better to have him pay the full amount since it will put the pressure on him to pay it and not have to deal with the protest of the whole group. If he fights it we can leverage his position as the leader of the group and make him look bad in front of the others by saying how we thought he honored his debts and was a man of his word and not following it would lose his status among them. Also have roomba on standby just in case we need some intimidation.

If we endup with his ship we should consider not selling it too since the money was more of an unexpected surprise with the ship also being a nice boon in itself. After cleaning it which we'll have to do because he stinks we now have access to a ship with modern tech allowing us to travel further in a short time if we need to compared to our own. We can also implement a delivery service with it to, expanding our business.

>>4419273
>> 3. "Nothing actually. The advertising beacon was worth 12.8 million credits, but I'll be a nice guy and take all your personal cruisers as payment. I can probably get between 6 and 8 million for them. Anyways, I called you a ride, you can leave now." Just taking their shit is the easiest option. You can't get all the money they owe you but it's a guaranteed payday and you won't have to go through the trouble of hiring a debt collector if they have trouble putting the money together.

>>4419285
>>4419563
"Do you guys have 12.8 million credits on hand?" The group stares at you, mouths gaping open, as a bad feeling comes over them. "I guess that's a no. Well, not to worry, our debt is settled already. That advertising beacon was an antique worth 12.8 million credits, but I'll be a nice guy and just take your personal cruisers as payment. It's easier than trying to get money out of you lot, right?"

The first person to snap out of it is Xarthoplex, who screams up a storm. He calls you a liar, a thief, and so on and so forth and vows that he'll take you and the dark forces backing you down. Annoyed, you press a button on Roomie, causing a whirring saw blade to pop out. Your murder-roomba servers as a sufficient enough threat for Xarthoplex and his brood to back off to a safe distance.

"Feel free to get lawyers, but then you'll just have to pay me back the full amount. I'm taking your cruisers and that's that. I called a ride for you guys, it should be here by now. Now hand over your keys." Confused and intimidated the group turn over their cruiser keys and leave, finally freeing your store of their presence. You smile as they disappear into the distance, hopefully never to be seen again.

You take the cruisers out for test runs as Gloop is left with the herculean task of removing the stench from your store. They all seem to run well, although you'll need to clean them. The best of the lot can speed along at just under 5 lightyears per hour, meaning that you could make the 40,000 lightyear journey back to Earth in under a year in this, given that you had enough fuel.

>>4419846
You get the rest of cruisers, along with your store, professionally cleaned in the following days. At this point The Doctor emerges from your ship, and upon hearing about how "The Truthseekers" destroyed your advertising beacon, a murderous rage fills his eyes. He must really care for antiques. It's a good thing you didn't tell him about everything ahead of time or you might have been stuck trying to collect debts from the deceased.

You start putting the spare cruisers up for sale over the following days. You're keeping one, but you still should be able to get around 7 million credits from the sale of the rest. As you look forward to your payday, you think about what you're going to do with your sudden windfall.
>1. Keep two of the cruisers and start delivering. You'll have to brand the cruisers and get a delivery driver or two, but it'll definitely increase sales.
>2. Renovate the place. It's intact, but there are a lot of minor problems that arise after 40,000 years of space travel. Plus, you could use some better radiation shielding in the store. ...Just in case. [Costs 2-3 million credits.]
>3. Buy signage for the surrounding area and do some additions. The inside of the store in kind of cramped and you never were able to scrape together enough money to afford that play area 40,000 years ago. Now's the time. You're finally going to get your zero-g ball pit. [Cost 3-4 million credits]
>4. You can't afford a large ship with a modern engine, but you can get the store towed to a more populated location like you were meant to be. You'll have to abandon the tourist spot you put all that effort into making, but you'll finally have a steady flow of customers. [Cost: 5 million credits.]
>5. Put the money in the bank for a rainy day. Space is wild and you don't know what'll happen next.
>Write-in

on a note unrelated to this update, I was reading yesterday's posts and saw an amazing typo
>onions salad
how the fuck did this onions salad get autocorreted to that, i'm not even phoneposting

>>4419847
oh, the filter caused the sci-fi usage of the word to be changed because of a shitty pol meme
of course

>>4419847
>2. Renovate the place. It's intact, but there are a lot of minor problems that arise after 40,000 years of space travel. Plus, you could use some better radiation shielding in the store. ...Just in case. [Costs 2-3 million credits.]

>>4419847
>1. Keep two of the cruisers and start delivering. You'll have to brand the cruisers and get a delivery driver or two, but it'll definitely increase sales.

>>4419882
>>4420006
You'll keep the cruiser that would sell for the least as a delivery vehicle and then use some of the proceeds from selling the other six to fix the place up. 40,000 years in deep space isn't the best on a place, even if it was made out of "genuine NASA technology". Plus, you'd feel safer with more radiation shielding. A lot more radiation shielding.

Fortunately the cruisers go fast and you don't have to put up with much bullshit offloading them. You deposit the 6.2 million credits into your bank account, multiplying your balance by about four times. Now that you don't have to worry about money as much, it's time to fix up the place. You shop around and get price estimates from a few contractors before settling on one who seems competent. He says that as long as things go well you'll only have to shut down for a couple weeks at most, and he can get all the repairs and minor improvements you were hoping for done for around 2.4 million credits. The Doctor is actually rather excited for the work to be done, as you promised it would be to the naked eye, as historically accurate as possible. Even if the radiation shielding in the walls was tripled and the store's defense systems enhanced. Plus, even if it does change a couple minor things, the work being done means that the previously faded logos and wonky equipment is now fixed- now he can experience what it's like to work at a McSpacies in its prime!

Business holds steady at a customer a day as the renovation work draws closer. Still, you need to do something about the low customer flow eventually. McSpacies are mostly self-sufficient so you can last for a while like this, but it will be impossible to hold on forever.
>1. Head out and work on the delivery plan while the store is shut down. You'll figure out where you might need to deliver to, settle on a decent delivery fee, look for drivers, and sort out any other odds and ends.
>2. Get ready to supervise the contractor you hired. He seemed good enough at his job, but if he fucks anything up you're the one who's going to have to pay. You're not letting him out of your sight even once while work is being done on your store. [Altered by Inhuman Patience. You will literally never let him out of your sight while he's working.]
>3. Stay in the store and see if you can attract any customers through the new, modern MilkyNet™. Plus, if the contractor fucks anything major up you'll still notice, even if you're not breathing down his neck for a week or two straight.
>Write-in

>>4420545

>1. Head out and work on the delivery plan while the store is shut down. You'll figure out where you might need to deliver to, settle on a decent delivery fee, look for drivers, and sort out any other odds and ends.

Tempted to go for the closer look at the contractors option, but deliveries are where the money's at for now. Let the customers try it through delivery to get a taste, then tempt them to visit our convenient location next to The Mysterious Vanishing Planet tm. Thrill at the wonder of a planet that disappeared in a burst of radiation from the rad-proofed comfort of a genuine, historical McSpacies, established 40,000 years prior. Try classic recipes from Ancient Terra, side by side with modern day examples of fast food. (Now with Sploop!)

>>4420545
>1. Head out and work on the delivery plan while the store is shut down. You'll figure out where you might need to deliver to, settle on a decent delivery fee, look for drivers, and sort out any other odds and ends.
And
>2. Get ready to supervise the contractor you hired. He seemed good enough at his job, but if he fucks anything up you're the one who's going to have to pay. You're not letting him out of your sight even once while work is being done on your store. [Altered by Inhuman Patience. You will literally never let him out of your sight while he's working.]

We can do both

>>4420603
>>4420625
>>4420630
Your lovely tourist trap attracts some customers, but if you actually want to rack in the moohlah then you're going to need to make a change. Deliveries are a good cash cow and the store will be shut down for a couple weeks anyways, so you may as well start working out the whole delivery system and advertising it where you can.

According to existing maps there's nothing in the direction of the planet which was mysteriously destroyed, thank god, but unfortunately there's also nothing within a few light years of your location. Fortunately you just got access to a fast cruiser and can feasibly deliver within a five light year radius on the more desperate side of things. With the radius expanded a tiny trading post four light years away comes within range... and nothing else. Or to be more accurate, nothing else you know of. Space is extremely big- unfathomably big- and so large sections of it aren't surveyed properly. The backwater you happen to be stranded in is one of those places. If you really want to find out if there's anywhere else you can deliver to, you're going to have to do the legwork yourself and survey the area.

The next week you spend every day in your cruiser, zooming along, tweaking your radar, zooming through the same area again, and then checking anything of interest. For the first three days you find nothing, but on the fourth day you have a string of luck and find a few small asteroids which have been converted into domed houses. You mark them down on your map and hand out some adverts with your store's communicator ID on them, hoping that they're still inhabited and that the owners happen to crave fast food at some point in the future.

As the search radius expands to three light years you stumble across a small mining operation centered around a large cluster of asteroids. Your radar only picked up the existence of man-made structures when you finetuned it for surveying, so it makes sense that this place wasn't on any maps you found. Unlike the houses from before this mining base actually has a parking lot, so you land and head inside.

There's a receptionist on duty, but they're clearly confused seeing someone enter. You guess they don't get many visitors. "Uh... are you new? The shipment isn't ready until the last of the month. It'll be a couple of weeks." "No, no, I was just passing by. I own a restaurant a few light years away and was just going to leave behind some flyers. You cool with that?" The receptionist perks up at the mention of a restaurant and nods. "Sure, sure. We're kind of tired of eating at that trading post on our day off, not much variety."

>>4420876
As the receptionist glances at your flyer their eyes go wide. "Wait, you guys have delivery?! What do you have, what do you have?!" The receptionist jumps up, an excited expression on their face, as they stare at you with a desperate expression. "What any fast food place would normally serve. Burger, fries, salads, chicken nuggets, stuff like that." You're not sure if it's your imagination, but it seems like the receptionist is salivating after hearing about your menu. They look off into space, a blank look in their eyes and a smile on their face, as they mutter to themselves. "So there is a god."

You soon come to learn that this small mining base has good wages, but a few major problems due to its remoteness. One of those is the food. The miners only get one day off base per month, which they generally use to visit the nearby trading post. For the rest of the month they eat flavorless nutritional paste day in, day out. That's why the mention of food has them so excited. This immediately seems like a goldmine of customers, but apparently it won't be as easy at it looks. Their management are hardasses, and apparently it will be extremely difficult for you to deliver most of the time. Hell, apparently you aren't even supposed to be here right now- visitors are only allowed outside of work hours, and only here, at the reception area. There are also some other restrictions, but they aren't really made clear. You ask if you can speak to the guys in charge and work something out, but apparently they're all offsite and only visit once a month to pick up what gets mined. And even then they don't like to be bothered so you'd probably just get ignored, just like most of the workers who complain. Great.

>1. Well, you can figure something out. Make some sort of form they can use to order, have them give them to the receptionist, and ship over as much food as you can before work starts for the day. You won't make nearly as much as if you could bring in food all day, but it does vastly reduce the number of trips you'd have to take, so you guess it has its own advantages.
>2. Just ignore the rule. The workers here want decent food and they're not going to rat you out. As long as you don't deliver here when management is visiting it'll probably be fine.
>3. Make it known to all the miners that you want to deliver food to them but are not allowed to due to their rules. If they all get angry enough then there might just be a rule change without your intervention.
>4. Take note of when "the hardass cunts from management" arrive and then go to negotiate with them. You're not sure terms it will be on, but you'll probably get permission to deliver here. Hopefully.
>Write-in

>>4420876

>1. Well, you can figure something out. Make some sort of form they can use to order, have them give them to the receptionist, and ship over as much food as you can before work starts for the day. You won't make nearly as much as if you could bring in food all day, but it does vastly reduce the number of trips you'd have to take, so you guess it has its own advantages.

With a note to do:

>4. Take note of when "the hardass cunts from management" arrive and then go to negotiate with them. You're not sure terms it will be on, but you'll probably get permission to deliver here. Hopefully.

When they'll show up. The bosses are only showing up once a month, so might as well do the deliveries until then. If anything, they might be happy enough for the miner's spending their own money of food, saving them cost in nutritional paste and raising morale. Happy miners are productive miners.

Even if the managers make it so we aren't allowed to deliver, we can tell them that we'll deliver to the trading post as well. Besides, if it's a relatively low effort, low stress job making deliveries, we don't need to pay whoever we're getting to run them hazard pay or anything like that.

>>4420880
>3. Make it known to all the miners that you want to deliver food to them but are not allowed to due to their rules. If they all get angry enough then there might just be a rule change without your intervention.

>>4420880
Option 1 for the time being with the support to others about talking to the bosses once they arrive. Hinting to the miners that they might be able to get delivered if their bosses could also help nudge them to agree.

>>4420920
>>4421158
Well, you guess you can ship over what you can fit into your cruiser in the morning and makes some sales. Still, you'll need to work something out with their bosses whenever they stop by- you're losing out on a lot of sales this way.

The next day you leave some order forms with the receptionist and tell them that you'll head over that night after work to pick them up before bringing back the food in the morning. In the meantime you'll continue your surveying.

Later that day you stop by the trading post, which is basically just a small town built in the middle of space. You head towards the docking area when you hear a bored voice come over your radio. "For non-citizens it's 2000 credits for a day pass, 60000 credits for a year pass. Pay up ahead." Christ that's a rip off. Unless something changes you're just gonna bring any deliveries here and wait for people to fly out and grab them.

You begrudgingly pay the fee and head inside the trading post. Artificial lights fill up the sterile metal hallways, and tiny homes and stores crammed together fill your sight. The trading post looks relatively small on the outside, but the population inside fluctuates between five and ten thousand. It's not much compared to what you're used to on Earth, but it's the biggest settlement you've seen since leaving, so you're still impressed.

You walk along and enjoy the sight of the shops, periodically posting flyers. Unfortunately the people don't seem to appreciate your efforts, and more than a few are torn down before you're even out of sight. At this rate it might be difficult to advertise your food or find a delivery driver here.
>1. Just look around and put your flyers up, if it works it works if it doesn't it doesn't. No need to stress out about it.
>2. Start looking for a delivery driver on your own, just in case the flyers don't work. There's plenty of people here, someone must need a job, right? Plus, if they already have citizenship here then they probably won't have to pay the fee to bring your deliveries inside.
>3. Figure out who's in charge and see if you can't work something out. As things are you can't even go inside the place without paying money and people are tearing your only form of advertising down.
>4. Create a spectacle. Everyone here will be exposed to your advertisements whether they want to or not.
>Write-in

>>4421762
2 & 4

>>4421762
>2. Start looking for a delivery driver on your own, just in case the flyers don't work. There's plenty of people here, someone must need a job, right? Plus, if they already have citizenship here then they probably won't have to pay the fee to bring your deliveries inside.
Maybe they're tearing down the flyers becahse they're excited and want to show their friends or contact us

>>4421762
>>2. Start looking for a delivery driver on your own, just in case the flyers don't work. There's plenty of people here, someone must need a job, right? Plus, if they already have citizenship here then they probably won't have to pay the fee to bring your deliveries inside.
with
>4. Create a spectacle. Everyone here will be exposed to your advertisements whether they want to or not.

Make a spectacle by challenging anyone in this small town to tear down your posters and ask if they really have the power to go against a corporate monolith like McSpacies and the market cap it has. Let them know you have that type of money backing you and that you'll pay a driver a better wage than any other store here could offer as an example.

>>4421762

>2. Start looking for a delivery driver on your own, just in case the flyers don't work. There's plenty of people here, someone must need a job, right? Plus, if they already have citizenship here then they probably won't have to pay the fee to bring your deliveries inside.

Not holding my breath here, but we could probably find someone who wouldn't mind making a bit of spare creds for a simple job.

If the fliers aren't going to work then you'll just have to draw a crowd and advertise in your own way. As long as they know about McSpacies then you've succeeded, no matter how they learned about it.

You explore the trade port, searching for the best area to start your spectacle in, before you reach an area near the center. The shops here are larger and more crowded and dozens of people are relaxing in a park filled with artificial plants. Upon seeing the park you immediately walk into it, stand on top of a table, and begin screaming.

"Come one, come all, and be enlightened! I own a nearby McSpacies and am part of one of the galaxy's dominant corporations with 40,000 years worth of history! At McSpacies you can stare in awe and wonder at the ruins of a planet that was mysteriously blown apart, experience 40,000 years worth of history, and try classic recipes made by our Earthling forefathers. If you're interested, we're even hiring a delivery driver, all so that we can bring our mouthwateringly delicious food straight to you! You'd have to be a fool not to try it- there's no better food in the galaxy"

A couple of the travelers just stopping in at the trade port seemed enthused by your speech, but the vast majority people seem distressed. Some people are angry, while others are slowly backing away from you. Quite a few are glancing around furtively, like they're waiting for something to happen. Unfortunately, absorbed in your speech, you don't take note of these odd reactions. For the next five minutes you make McSpacies out to be the best place in the galaxy, and let prospective employees know of the luxurious employment conditions.

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>>4422282
As you finally wind down your speech you're approached by several wanderers who were drawn in by your speech and who are interested in the delivery driver position. Unfortunately, before you can speak to any of them, a squad of armed men burst into the park. Leading them is a man adorned in expensive jewelry and a long, red robe. A crown rests on his head with two red jewels prominently embedded into it. He stares at you with a smile on his face, but it's vaguely threatening. Even worse, his expression doesn't change at all as he stares at you- it's just frozen on his face. He's terrifying. And for some reason he's vaguely familiar.

This man scares you, but at the same time... he angers you. Some instinctual part of you that seems to have lain dormant for thousands upon thousands of years bursts out, filling your body with an odd energy and your mind with an inhuman anger. It takes all of your effort to hold it back and evaluate the situation rationally.

By the time you've reigned in your anger the squad has surrounded you and the royally-dressed man is evaluating you. "No better food in the galaxy? One of the galaxy's dominant corporations? Ridiculous. I'm surprised a McSpacies even survived the purge. We won this war, and so we'll put an end to this. Nobody will ever taste your horrible food again."

You don't know what's going on, but clearly this trade port's management has something against McSpacies, and the disappearance of your parent corporation has more behind it than just the passage of time. You'd love to consider things more closely, but you don't have the time. This squad could start firing at you any moment.

>1. "Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.
>2. Fortunately you prepared for something like this. This whole time you've been wearing Roomie like a backpack, and now it's time for him to come in handy. Mecha form, deploy! Time to blow this joint!
>Write-in

>>4422289

>1. "Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.

"You may wear the crown, but WE are the true king of Fast Food, usurper!" Plus, you know, we could always use Roomie afterwards to bug out of here when the shit hits the fan.

>>4422289
>1. "Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.
>use Roomie if/when shtf
Do you have a name for bootleg space burger king?

>>4422289
>This man scares you, but at the same time... he angers you. Some instinctual part of you that seems to have lain dormant for thousands upon thousands of years bursts out, filling your body with an odd energy and your mind with an inhuman anger.

This is hilarious.

Also
>"Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.

>Write-in "The only thing horrible are these people being deprived of knowing what an actual quality meal taste like. Today a king loses his crown." If we use Roomie conider him being painted to resemble Ronald McDonald.

>>4422289
>"Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.

Kek. Going to war against Burger King makes me hungry.

>>4422289
>1. "Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.

>>4422289
>1. "Yes, we will put an end to this. I challenge you to a cook-off!" You're not sure why, but you feel like right now you put any chef, man or machine, to shame and that it's your duty to show this fucker that your food really is the best in the galaxy.

>>4422305
>>4422313
>>4422374
>>4422512
>>4422624
>>4422824
"Right back at you. You may act like a king, but you're just part of some dime a dozen fast food joint. It's time to show these poor people what real food tastes like- I challenge you to a cook-off!" The man stares at you, face still frozen, before gesturing for his men to stand back. "Interesting! I, Double Burger King Rayleigh, will be your opponent then. Ready your weapon."

Burger King Rayleigh pulls a spatula from his robe and points it towards you. The spatula only looks to be fancily ornamented at first, but after Rayleigh presses one of the two jewels embedded into it the spatula changes. It turns inside out, hiding the ornamentation and pomp, and transforms into a no-frills, high-performance cooking tool. "First patty- armament." You take Roomie off of your back and press a button on it. In response a small robotic arm holding a spatula pops out. You grab the ordinary looking spatula and point it towards Burger King Rayleigh. "Bring it."

The trading port's guards roll in two portable cooking stations containing grills, deep fryers, and a beverage station. Your task is simple: To construct a burger of your choosing containing a single patty, and to then pair it with a side of fries and a beverage. Best meal wins.

The sound of a pistol rings out, signaling the start of your competition. The two of you launch into action and grab your patties as hundreds of citizens watch on. Some are excited, some terrified, and a few even have a competitive glint in their eyes. All these varied reactions turn into confusion within half a minute, confusion at what the hell you're doing. Burger King Rayleigh put his patty on the grill within 10 seconds, while you're still waiting.

The crowd begins heckling you, asking if you even know how to make a burger, but you hold out. It's not time yet. Just a little bit longer. Your muscles tighten up as you stare at the grill. Then, when the time comes, you shoot into motion- you slam a patty onto the grill and watching as it begins sizzling. You did it! You started cooking your burger when the grill was at the perfect temperature!

You throw a glance at Burger King Rayleigh, who threw his first patty away and began cooking one at the same time as you. He glances back at you and chuckles. "So you aren't completely incompetent. That makes things more fun then. To crush someone who thinks they're at the pinnacle, that's the true joy of a cook-off." You ignore him and begin flipping your burger, engaging in rapid, rhythmic flipping movements to ensure that your patty is perfectly cooked. The rhythm and power behind your flips remains almost exactly the same every time, like you're a robot. It'd be impossible for you to do this normally, but you're in some sort of odd, zen state right now. It's almost like another you that's been hidden for a long, long time is guiding your actions right now. You can do this.
(1/3)

>>4423316
Burger King Rayleigh burger-flipping technique is much more ordinary, but every time he does flip his burger he rapidly slams his spatula against it in specific places. Whenever he does it seems like it's with a force that can destroy the patty, but whenever it actually hits the patty it just jiggles slightly, the blow just passing through the patty safely. Your eyes narrow as you notice this. It's some sort of special tenderization technique. Well, two can play at that game.

Your change the rhythm behind your flips and increase the force you use to flip the patty up and to slam the patty back down. You don't know how to use as much force as Burger King Rayleigh without damaging the patty, but that doesn't matter- this method will still make the meat more tender. Upon seeing you begin utilizing your own tenderization technique, Burger King Rayleigh finally seems to take things seriously. "You're better than I thought. ...But it's still not enough. Time for my special technique! Second patty- explosive tenderization!"

As Burger King Rayleigh says this he pressed down on the second jewel embedded into his spatula. A tiny syringe pops out of it and he begins knocking the burger around midair, avoiding the grill completely. "This is the technique I used to pass my Double Burger King examination... explosive tenderization! My spatula contains a small syringe full of edible explosives, and I carefully control how much is injected into specific spots in the patty through the force of my blows. At the same time I carefully play keep away from the grill, making sure that they aren't set off prematurely. And then once everything's in place I shoot it back towards the grill and it explodes gloriously!"

Once Burger King Rayleigh finishes his speech he slams his patty downwards with massive force and it throttles towards the grill. When the grill and patty make contact you hear a loud boom and a small explosion comes from his patty. You expect this insane technique to result in the destruction of his patty, but once the smoke clears you're amazed- it's completely unharmed. You stare at the patty, mouth gaping open, as Burger King Rayleigh laughs manically. "The perfect combination of force and counter-force used here keeps the burger intact while using the massive power behind the explosion to make it extremely tender. That's the nature behind my special technique, explosive tenderization. You have solid technique, but this is the end!"

"The end... I don't think so." While Burger King Rayleigh was unleashing his special technique, you weren't just watching. You were preparing a trump card of your own. That whole time your arm had been speeding up, and you took a second spatula from one of Roomie's attachments. Now's your chance- high-speed dribble flips!

You use one spatula to constantly smack the burger down onto the grill, and the other to rapidly flip it in midair.
(2/3)

>>4423319
The motion looks like you're dribbling the patty with arm like a basketball, and then causing it rapidly rotate with the other arm. Burger King Rayleigh is aghast seeing this, and the smile frozen on his face finally changes, turning into a frown. "No... that can't be... that can't be! Bursts of heat and bursts of force, simultaneously tenderizing and ensuring the perfectly cooked patty. No... no! I CAN'T LOSE!"

Burger King Rayleigh does everything he can to ensure that he doesn't lose, but the two of you are both almost done cooking your patties- the main point of your competition. The two of you finish everything within a minute and assemble your meal. Once your done you toss your burger over to Burger King Rayleigh. "Try it- my 'horrible food'."

Burger King Rayleigh hesitantly bites into it, and as he swallows, he begins screaming. "No... no... this can't be! Not only have I lost, but you're... you're... a true member of the McDonald clan! Not just a franchisee! No... no..." Inhuman screams come out of Burger King Rayleigh as his soul seems to come out of his body, a mirror-image of himself floating in the air. At the same time as the 'soul' appears, the Burger King Rayleigh on the ground stops screaming with terror and instead starts screaming with joy. "FREE! I'M FREE! THOSE BASTARDS WILL PAY SOMEDAY... SOMEDAY..." As he says this he passes out, leaving only the screaming ghost behind.

The ghost begins fading away, but as it does, it manages to choke out a few last words. "What's... what's your name. I want to at least know the name of the man who defeated me." "My name? It's Ronald. Just Ronald." A bitter laughter comes from the ghost as it splits into pieces. "Ronald... of the McDonald clan. You're not him, but still... how fitting. How fitting. I suppose I can accept my loss then."

As the ghost disappears completely the crowd seems to come out their stupor and begin reacting. There's yelling and screaming, and everything is shoved into madness. The soldiers, who were previously confused, point their guns towards you once again. You guess even with their leader defeated, you still have to deal with them. You grab Roomie and press the emergency button on it, using its bulk to block the first few shots as it transforms into a mech. You jump into it just as another volley comes from behind and is harmlessly deflected from the back.

Your mech slowly raises an arm towards the soldiers who, at this point, are clearly intimidated.
>1. "Begone. ULTRA LASER CANNON, GO!" Fuck these bastards and fuck this place. You may as well blow a hole through their trading port before you leave.
>2. "I have a restaurant to run. Don't bother me." Well, it seems your work is done here. Unless they find it fit to bother you again, you'll just be going home.
>3. "This is my station now. Submit or die." You defeated the leader, so by any sane logic this is your trading port now. Time to claim it.
>Write-in

>>4423321
>3. "This is my station now. Submit or die." You defeated the leader, so by any sane logic this is your trading port now. Time to claim it.

>>4423321
>3. "This is my station now. Submit or die." You defeated the leader, so by any sane logic this is your trading port now. Time to claim it.

>>4423321
>3. "This is my station now. Submit or die." You defeated the leader, so by any sane logic this is your trading port now. Time to claim it.
At what point do we don the makeup and clown suit and embrace our heritage?

>>4423339
>>4423368
>>4423475
>>4423563
"This trade port is mine now. Submit or die." Your mech stands there, motionless, and all of the soldiers from before back away and lower their weapons. Except one. He grabs a plasma grenade, pulls the pin, and charges towards you while holding it to his chest. "GLORY TO THE KINGS! DIE!" Before he can reach you you dash backwards with the mech and shoot a narrow laser towards the man. It pierces him through the leg and he trips, falling onto the ground with the grenade still held against his chest. Seconds later the grenade explodes, taking a clean chunk out of the trade station for around a dozen feet in any direction and almost piercing through the hull. Fortunately nowhere was standing near you so there were no additional casualties, but the man does present a pressing problem- there might be others here willing to die to harm you.

You decide that for the time being it'd be best to just let them know you're in charge before leaving the citizens here to their own devices. You want to do more but, uh, you enjoy living. You retrieve the passed out "Burger King Rayleigh", curious about his odd behavior after you defeated him, appoint someone with some clout to temporarily manage the place, and tell them that you'll be back after you figure some things out. You commandeer one of the trade port's ships before you leave, abandoning your cruiser, and return to McSpacies while enjoying the overwhelming luxury of extended legroom.

Upon your arrival at McSpacies you retrieve Burger King Rayleigh and ask The Doctor to take a look at him. You know he's not a medical doctor but he probably knows more than you do. The Doctor agrees despite his lack of knowledge and, understandably curious, inquires as to why you came back in a ship as large as the restaurant with a passed out man wearing a broken crown.

You tell your awe-inspiring tale to The Doctor, who just nods in response to whatever you say. When you finished he seems confused, but he doesn't straight up call you a liar, which is probably a good sign. "That's... odd to say the least. It actually does remind me of an old legend, but there's probably no validity to it. I'll look into it later."

>>4423737
The Doctor disappears into the back with the first and hopefully last patient he'll ever get, and you're left to figure out what the fuck to do with this situation. The trade port is technically under your control but there are probably several people there who won't hesitate to give up their lives to kill you, and you still have a delivery service to figure out.
>1. Fuck the delivery service, you have much more important matters to deal with. You seized the trade port, and while you're unsure about the legality of your actions and whether you have any actual claim to the place, you're using it. You need to get back there as soon as possible, preferably armed and with dozens of pages of rules slash anti-assassination measures to enforce, and assert your dominance. The danger doesn't matter and what you were doing before doesn't matter. They insulted McSpacies, and you're not letting them get away with that.
>2. You're still curious about the spooky ghost of Burger King Rayleigh and all that screaming about freedom, you should stay here until he's conscious. It doesn't matter if the whole delivery plan gets put by the wayside for a while, you're invested in this.
>3. Lots of crazy shit happened today but it doesn't really change anything. You're still starting a delivery service and you still need to map out the surrounding area. Plus, you even have a better ship to do it in now- besides being bigger, the ship that you sto- er, were given, can go up to seven ly/h.
>Write-in

>>4423739
>2. You're still curious about the spooky ghost of Burger King Rayleigh and all that screaming about freedom, you should stay here until he's conscious. It doesn't matter if the whole delivery plan gets put by the wayside for a while, you're invested in this.

>>4423739

>3. Lots of crazy shit happened today but it doesn't really change anything. You're still starting a delivery service and you still need to map out the surrounding area. Plus, you even have a better ship to do it in now- besides being bigger, the ship that you sto- er, were given, can go up to seven ly/h.

Fuck all this hoodoo burger ghost shit and fast-food baronies, let's focus on making those sweet sweet creds.

>>4423739
>>2. You're still curious about the spooky ghost of Burger King Rayleigh and all that screaming about freedom, you should stay here until he's conscious. It doesn't matter if the whole delivery plan gets put by the wayside for a while, you're invested in this.

McSpacies is a different ruler than The Burger King, while he rules with a velvet wrapped iron fist. We instead rule from the shadows, the golden arches constantly watching.

>>4423739
>3. Lots of crazy shit happened today but it doesn't really change anything. You're still starting a delivery service and you still need to map out the surrounding area. Plus, you even have a better ship to do it in now- besides being bigger, the ship that you sto- er, were given, can go up to seven ly/h.

>>4423739

>3. Lots of crazy shit happened today but it doesn't really change anything. You're still starting a delivery service and you still need to map out the surrounding area. Plus, you even have a better ship to do it in now- besides being bigger, the ship that you sto- er, were given, can go up to seven ly/h.

But tell the doc to contact you when he wakes up.

>>4423739
>>1. Fuck the delivery service, you have much more important matters to deal with. You seized the trade port, and while you're unsure about the legality of your actions and whether you have any actual claim to the place, you're using it. You need to get back there as soon as possible, preferably armed and with dozens of pages of rules slash anti-assassination measures to enforce, and assert your dominance. The danger doesn't matter and what you were doing before doesn't matter. They insulted McSpacies, and you're not letting them get away with that.

>>4423739
>1. Fuck the delivery service, you have much more important matters to deal with. You seized the trade port, and while you're unsure about the legality of your actions and whether you have any actual claim to the place, you're using it. You need to get back there as soon as possible, preferably armed and with dozens of pages of rules slash anti-assassination measures to enforce, and assert your dominance. The danger doesn't matter and what you were doing before doesn't matter. They insulted McSpacies, and you're not letting them get away with that.
Start a franchise at the station with some of the dosh from the space neckbeards

The next update will be in roughly a few hours, after I sit through a morning class and eat lunch.
Votes currently stand at:
Option 1: 2 votes
Option 2: 2 votes
Option 3: 3 votes

>>4423866
>>4423872
>>4423905
Well, you have surveying to get back to. You don't have time to waste here just because of some weird burger ghost shit. Plus, this gives you the heebie-jeebies anyways. You don't like ghosts and bustin' [s][ghosts][/s] doesn't make you feel good.

You hop into your new ship and McSpacies disappears into the distance. You give the trade port a wide berth this time, not wanting to get involved in whatever bullshit is happening there, and slowly plod along while checking your radar for anywhere people might be living.

About six lightyears out you stumble across what appears to be a tiny manmade 'planet'. The land area is probably under 10,000 square miles, and your radar is mainly just picking up structures in one area. Curious, you begin landing near the area, and discover a small town.

After a quick search, you determine that the town is completely deserted. This creeps you out. As you're about to hurry back into the ship, you finally spot a humanlike figure in the distance. And retreat faster- whoever's left here is probably a skin-snatcher or some shit, fuck this. Fortunately they spot you before you leave and once they start speaking directly at you feel too awkward to leave before seeing what they want.

"Traveler, traveler! Could I hitch a ride on your ship!" The person speaking to you looks like your average middle-aged man, except he's in much better shape than most. His clothes are relatively simple, and remind you of something out of a historical documentary. "On my ship? Uh... why exactly?" Even if this person doesn't seem odd on the surface, he might still be a skin-snatcher. Better ask some questions before he gets on board- nobody is stealing your skin on your watch.

>>4424659
According to this "Jeff" dude, this used to be a small ranching slash farming settlement which helped provide normally-grown food to nearby areas. About a decade ago someone found an odd mushroom growing in a nearby cave and decided to start growing them. They figured it out a few years ago, but before they could store their first harvest and try out the mushrooms some sentient kaiju thing that lives on the other side of the planet ate them all. The settlement hadn't had any problems with the kaiju before them, but after that it just started coming into town, destroying random shit, and then wandering off. The townspeople tried to figure out why it was doing this, even offering prayer and sacrifices to the monster, but it kept coming into town, destroying things, and committing other "vulgar acts". Most of the residents here fled on a trade ship that passed through a few weeks ago, but Jeff stayed behind. Now Jeff is regretting it and wants a lift.

>1. Sure, Jeff can get his ride, he's probably not some sort of murderous supernatural creature. You guess there's nothing to see here, you'll just help yourself to anything they left behind and then leave.
>2. Jeff can get his ride if he agrees to be a delivery driver for a while. It's not easy to find fuel for your spaceship and the extra cargo of a 200 pound man takes up quite a bit. It's only fair he pays it back somehow.
>3. It seems like a shame to have a planet just abandoned like this. You may as well go find the monster and see what it wants, as far as you know it hasn't murdered anyone. Yet. Probably.
>4. See if you can get Jeff to explain what exactly the 'vulgar acts' the monster committed are. He seems like a very, um, pure person but maybe you can get it out of him.
>Write-in

>3. It seems like a shame to have a planet just abandoned like this. You may as well go find the monster and see what it wants, as far as you know it hasn't murdered anyone. Yet. Probably.
>4. See if you can get Jeff to explain what exactly the 'vulgar acts' the monster committed are. He seems like a very, um, pure person but maybe you can get it out of him.

>>4424661
>>3. It seems like a shame to have a planet just abandoned like this. You may as well go find the monster and see what it wants, as far as you know it hasn't murdered anyone. Yet. Probably.
>>4. See if you can get Jeff to explain what exactly the 'vulgar acts' the monster committed are. He seems like a very, um, pure person but maybe you can get it out of him.

Lets do this for now, and figure out this planets mystery. But also yes we are going to press gang Jeff into being a delivery driver.

>>4424661
Going with these two options in this order.

>4. See if you can get Jeff to explain what exactly the 'vulgar acts' the monster committed are. He seems like a very, um, pure person but maybe you can get it out of him.

>2. Jeff can get his ride if he agrees to be a delivery driver for a while. It's not easy to find fuel for your spaceship and the extra cargo of a 200 pound man takes up quite a bit. It's only fair he pays it back somehow.

If the monster is still around, we can probably look at it later after dealing with the burger ghost back at the restaurant.

I will probably update tonight but it will not be until just before I go to sleep. Apologies for the pacing, the university crammed us all into the dorms and is now confused that they started an outbreak so I need to start packing. On the bright side I can probably speed up again on the weekend.

>>4425150

Shit QM, sorry to hear that. Looking forward to when shit gets better for ya.

>>4424680
>>4424785
>>4424965
Alright, before you do anything you need to get to the bottom of this. Exactly what "vulgar acts" was this monster up to. Tax fraud? Littering? Microtransactions? Unable to guess what he means yourself, you interrogate Jeff over the matter.

You ask Jeff to describe the vulgar acts the monster committed, and he seems at a loss. You stand there for several minutes, waiting for him to say something, anything, before you push slightly. "...Come on, what'd it do. Get on with it, it's just words." After a couple more minutes Jeff stammers out something resembling a sentence. "It... er... ah... drew them... everywhere." "Them? What do you mean by that?" "Uh... uh... uh.......male... male members. Everywhere."

You're starting to get the gist of what Jeff is saying, but at this point you're more concerned for him than you are about the monster. If you're to shanghai him into becoming a delivery driver later you should figure this out first. "Jeff, buddy... have you heard of, uh... the birds and the bees?" Jeff shakes his head. It looks like you have a lot of work ahead of you.

You begin to explain the ins and outs of human reproduction to Jeff, a man who has to be in his 30s if not his 40s, but who has not head of any of this. At first he's horrified by your references to schlongs and cunts, but after a little while becomes curious. Extremely curious. If you were a normal person you would've wrapped it up here, figuring that he'd gotten the point and could figure the rest out himself, but you're not a normal person. You have Inhuman Patience. For hours on end you answer his questions and enlighten him on the wealth of knowledge you've gained from various... sources over the years.

>>4425560
Half a day later
"So yeah, the massive wanker drew cocks everywhere. On the walls, in the ground, and so on and so forth- just a dick here, a pecker there, and a few willies for good measure. Spent the whole time angrily roaring too. Was a weird experience." You're not sure what you've created, but Jeff seems to be over his nervousness at least. That's good. As he properly explains the situation you look around more closely- he's right. Just out of plain sight are dozens of penises created on every surface imaginable. God, you hope this thing's not in mating season.

Uneasy about the monster's proclivities but determined, you leave Jeff to digest his new understanding of life and follow the trail of penises towards the monster. A couple dozen miles later you come across a massive pond and the end of the trail. Inside you see a turtle dozens of feet across just floating there and staring off into space with wide, bloodshot eyes. You guess that's your monster.

"Hey, mister monster? What're you up to?" Your voice catches the oversized turtle by surprise and it stares at you with an even more confused expression than it had before. "Woah. Those mushrooms were great. I can even understand you hairless things now." You guess that means no one here had communicators with universal translators installed. That says a lot about the place's isolation. "I heard about those mushrooms. How were they? Are they related to your acts of destruction, and, uh... the penises?"

The turtle breaks out into a fit of laughter that sounds a lot like a terrifying roar upon hearing you mention the penises. "Heh, heh... that was funny man. I just wanted to spread some art." "Where'd you get the idea for the art." "I'unno man... my head? I just ate those mushrooms and boom... my mind expanded... and my stomach. I'm so hungry. Those other guys didn't even have anything decent to eat."

Well, this seems more benign than initially expected. A turtle monster is, as your mother would say, 'high as balls' and will be for the foreseeable future, and the locals are unable to handle its trip.
>1. This thing needs to sober up and stop causing problems. Guess you need to find a remedy- off to the MilkyNet™ you go.
>2. Well, the turtle is gonna lots of weird stuff but everybody does weird stuff from time to time. Just leave it be and tell the locals to return when it's all over, the planet will still be here when it's done. There may even be an 'art installation' by the time they come back and you'd call that a plus.
>3. This turtle is interesting. You should give it some ideas and see what happens. [If voted for you will roll 1d20. That will decide the results of this action.]
>4. Maybe this thing will calm down if you fix its munchies. It doesn't have any cash, but you guess you'll feed it as much as possible now and hope it pays you back later somehow.
>Write-in

>>4425561
>1. This thing needs to sober up and stop causing problems. Guess you need to find a remedy- off to the MilkyNet™ you go

>>4425561
>1. This thing needs to sober up and stop causing problems. Guess you need to find a remedy- off to the MilkyNet™ you go.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>4425561
>>3. This turtle is interesting. You should give it some ideas and see what happens. [If voted for you will roll 1d20. That will decide the results of this action.]

>>4425670
>>4425866
>>4426228
Well, you can't just leave this thing here. As much as you'd love to leave it here to work on its... art, you'd prefer to have a population of possible customers using the area. Better get this thing to sober up and stop causing trouble.

You scour the MilkyNet™ for a quick and easy solution to the problem, but you don't find anything useful. Most of the advice you find is for hangovers, and not for several ton turtles who ate massive quantities of psychedelic mushrooms. Unsure of where to look you post a query online, hoping that your fellow sapient beings can figure something out.

The answers you get are an odd combination of trolling, old wive's tales, and naive incompetence. Despite this they're the best advice you have for the situation, so you put some of them into practice.

"maybe it'll sober up if it needs to be responsible"
"Hey, turtle thing? Do you get along well with any lady turtles?" The turtle monster blankly stares at you for a minute before answering. "Yeah man, yeah. There was this chick, Sasha, I used to date. Was nice enough but I'm a ground turtle and they were a space turtle. Couldn't work out." "Uh-huh, uh-huh... Sasha is pregnant and you're the father. You gotta shape up man."

You almost feel bad tricking the turtle, as it immediately believes you. Unfortunately fatherhood does not expel the drugs in his system. Instead the turtle just starts coming up with dozens upon dozens of nonsensical baby names. That didn't work, guess it's time to move on to the next answer.

"combine three quarts of water, a pinch of wolfsroot, an old red cloth, ..."
Someone left a recipe for an old remedy they said their mother used to make for their giant walrus's hangovers. No proof of said walrus ever existing is provided, and you have no idea how this mixture would work, but oh well, you'll take their word on it. After all, who would just go on the MilkyNet™ and tell lies- unlike you, most people are inherently good. Or so you assume.

>>4426569
You spend the next several hours going back and forth to gather the odd but common enough ingredients, but eventually creating a horrifying concoction. It's collected inside a metal wheelbarrow, and is made of a murky, sour-smelling liquid with random odds and ends floating in it. You sure as hell wouldn't drink it but it's probably not harmful.

You offer the turtle your cure-all. He's initially hesitant, but upon your statement that it will "send him on a trip that's out of this world" he gives in and drinks it. Nothing seems to happen at first, but after a minute his pupils dilate and he just passes out. Uh, fuck. As far as you can tell it's still breathing, but you did just knock this majestic create unconscious.
>1. Not your problem, this thing won't be causing trouble for the time being and it's probably fine, you're taking Jeff and getting out of here.
>2. ...Ok, maybe this is your problem. Better head over to the trading port and see if they have a vet on hand. You may have almost killed this thing so you guess it's only fair you try to fix it.
>3. Post another question asking how to fix the turtle. The MilkyNet™ may have let you down once, but you still believe in them.
>Write-in

>>4426574
>2. ...Ok, maybe this is your problem. Better head over to the trading port and see if they have a vet on hand. You may have almost killed this thing so you guess it's only fair you try to fix it.
I mean, he's prooooooobably fine. Maybe....

>>4426574

>2. ...Ok, maybe this is your problem. Better head over to the trading port and see if they have a vet on hand. You may have almost killed this thing so you guess it's only fair you try to fix it.

I'd rather not ave a drugged-out turtle's blood on our hands. Maybe he could be a fixture of the post, drawing dick pics for the community and visitors in exchange for space drugs?

>>4426574
>...Ok, maybe this is your problem. Better head over to the trading port and see if they have a vet on hand. You may have almost killed this thing so you guess it's only fair you try to fix it.

>>4426582
>>4426619
>>4426667
Ok, you're not a huge fan of the turtle monster but maybe this is your problem. You guess you'll head over to the sport port with this thing and see if there's a vet. Although you've never seen anything like this before so you're not sure if they'd even be qualified.

You pop into Roomie's mecha-form and use it to carry the turtle back to the ship, find a big place to place it down, and then head back to pick up Jeff. You find him in the town, adding to the turtle's numerous dick sketches. Before you can ask him why he chose to kill time doing this, he offers a half-explanation. "I might've been rude to that turtle before. This is really fun." Well, you guess you can't argue with that..

Jeff joins you on your journey back to the trade port, and you just tell him to stay put on the ship while you take care of some stuff. You don't bring up the whole delivery driver position yet, as you don't want to scare him off. After all, given recent events it's not easy to find an employee who's guaranteed to not be an assassin. Hell, they'd have to be confined to a tiny planet without a communicator for their entire life to be completely safe... and you're pretty sure only Jeff still fits that criteria given that the rest of his planet fled months ago.

After a short flight you arrive back at the space port and don a disguise. You are no longer the owner of a McSpacies franchise and dictator of this trade port, but "Mirror", wandering disco dancer and spreader of glee across the galaxy. You would've chose a more ordinary persona, but your selection was limited by the wardrobe that was left on this ship- damn Burger King Rayleigh and his comedic excess. Your groovy stride and fabulous outfit draw some attention as you look about, but fortunately no one recognizes you, or at least no one who dislikes you. After all, someone who waged war against Burger King Rayleigh would have to be a terrifying, vile creature, and not the funky fresh disco king they see before them.

Fortunately there is a vet at this trade port, and then have their own entrance for large animals. You dock your ship there and explain the situation in the least-liable way possible. Just like that weird disappearing planet, you were in no way involved- you just found the turtle like this. The veterinarian examines the turtle while muttering something about how horrible this whole situation is. You just nod your head and agree. You're happy at first, as they don't think the turtle is in mortal danger, but after making a small incision in the turtle's side to examine some things, they're shocked. "This isn't just any giant turtle- this is the Andromeda Land-Space Turtle! They're a rare species of completely sentient turtles which aren't even from this galaxy! Unfortunately they're critically endangered after the problems in their homeland and there are only hundreds left..."

>>4427939
Upon discovering that your druggie turtle is, in fact, an Andromeda Land-Space Turtle, the veterinarian gets much more serious than before. They mention overseeing authorities, fines, and the serious ecological damage that the culprit behind this could've caused. Oh dear.
>1. Well, this isn't your problem, the turtle is probably a bro and if he's not he doesn't know your name anyways. Just leave him here, show Jeff his new job, and then see if "Burger King Rayleigh" is awake yet.
>2. Maybe there's not a culprit at all- the turtle could've easily injured itself on accident. You're starting to be sure this was the case. You should convince the veterinarian. If you can't, maybe the weird sumo wrestler dude on the 100,000 credit holobill can. Or several of him.
>3. Endangered turtle? What turtle? You're in charge here and you don't think anyone has seen a turtle of any sort. Still, it's your responsibility to check- you should call the dude you put in charge and some of the other guards over and have them check with the veterinarian to make sure he hasn't seen any endangered turtles.
>Other

>>4427943
>2. Maybe there's not a culprit at all- the turtle could've easily injured itself on accident. You're starting to be sure this was the case. You should convince the veterinarian. If you can't, maybe the weird sumo wrestler dude on the 100,000 credit holobill can. Or several of him.
then
>1. Well, this isn't your problem, the turtle is probably a bro and if he's not he doesn't know your name anyways. Just leave him here, show Jeff his new job, and then see if "Burger King Rayleigh" is awake yet.

>>4427943

>1. Well, this isn't your problem, the turtle is probably a bro and if he's not he doesn't know your name anyways. Just leave him here, show Jeff his new job, and then see if "Burger King Rayleigh" is awake yet.

We could leave some fake contact information for "Mirror", and just get the fuck out of here before the Space Conservation Officer rolls up and charges us. This vet doesn't seem like the type to be swayed by cash in hand.

>>4427943
>1. Well, this isn't your problem, the turtle is probably a bro and if he's not he doesn't know your name anyways. Just leave him here, show Jeff his new job, and then see if "Burger King Rayleigh" is awake yet.

>>4427943
>>1. Well, this isn't your problem, the turtle is probably a bro and if he's not he doesn't know your name anyways. Just leave him here, show Jeff his new job, and then see if "Burger King Rayleigh" is awake yet.

>>4428719
>>4428722
>>4428846
>>4429108
This vet seems like a morally upstanding individual who may not capitulate to the weird sumo wrestler on the 100,000 credit holobill, or maybe even the mech on the 1,000,000 credit holobill. You wish him luck in tracking down the criminal which harmed the poor Andromeda Land-Space Turtle, give him the contact info for a communicator you found inside Burger King Rayleigh's ship, and take your leave. You're not getting fined by some governing body full of space hippies, no siree.

On your way to McSpacies you inform Jeff of his new position as delivery driver that he'll be taking on in order to pay for the fuel used to transport him. He's initially opposed to taking the job, but after you inform him of the damage he and the rest of his community caused to the nearly-extinct Andromeda Land-Space Turtle in excruciating detail he thanks you for not snitching- drugging such a beautiful creature half to death is a grave offense after all. Especially after you mention possible jail sentences. Despite your questionably true coercion you're not a monster, and you agree to pay Jeff a bit above the going rate. This seems to improve his mood considerably.

Upon your arrival at McSpacies, you find The Doctor tied up behind the counter, Gloop going about his janitorial duties, and Burger King Rayleigh milling about with the contractor you hired. When you enter the store they both point military-grade plasma pistols at you, but before you sic Roomie on them Burger King Rayleigh lowers his weapon, . "Oh, it's great to see you again! I just woke up here and before I could figure out what was happening these two hooligans tried to assault me. Fortunately I subdued them." "...Gloop doesn't look very subdued to me." "No, no, he's subdued. As far as I can tell he's still digesting what we used to tie him up." "...Right."

"Anyways, why do you and my contractor have guns?" "He brought them." "Why did he bring them?" "Because he's part of my death squad- there's a few dozen of them scattered throughout the trading post, most undercover." "I see, I see... anyways, this is my place, I'd appreciate it if you could untie my employee and have the contractor get back to work." Burger King Rayleigh finally seems to realize that you're proprietor of this fine establishment and orders the contractor to untie The Doctor.

>>4429595
With your employees free and the weapons put away, you try to figure out why Burger King Rayleigh isn't trying to murder you anymore and what exactly went on with the ghost-thing from before. He then regales you with a tale of how he worked his ass off for "King", prominent fast food restaurant and government-sponsored corporation, before eventually being promoted to manager and then to a regional manager for a few stores. On the day he was to be appointed to his new position, he was given a special crown, a badge of honor they give to the "Kings" who help manage their corporation. This crown led to him being possessed by a tens of thousands of years old spirit which King had in their possession. Then he lost control of his body for a few years until you happened to come by, feed him a burger, and somehow exorcise him.

"Burger King Rayleigh" is extremely thankful for you saving him, and apparently he's still in control of the fanatical soldiers King assigned to him when he was still possessed.
>1. Send him to rule over the trade port as your puppet and to make sure none of his minions get any ideas about murdering you. He's already well-known there and can quash any rumors so unless news already got somewhere else then everything should blow over.
>2. Have him get his murder squad to stand down, officially turn over the trade port to you, and then start figuring out what to do with the place. You already claimed it and you really want to use some of their resources for your store's expansion.
>3. ...An extremely thankful person? And a squad of people who will serve them to the death? That sounds like a lot of free employees! This may piss off many of the more loyal people at the trade port but it'll definitely speed up your expansion.
>Write-in

>>4429602
>3. ...An extremely thankful person? And a squad of people who will serve them to the death? That sounds like a lot of free employees! This may piss off many of the more loyal people at the trade port but it'll definitely speed up your expansion

>>4429602

>1. Send him to rule over the trade port as your puppet and to make sure none of his minions get any ideas about murdering you. He's already well-known there and can quash any rumors so unless news already got somewhere else then everything should blow over.

He can go back to the trade-port with business as usual, and we get less chances of being shot or picked up by Space Enviro Officers if the turtle decides to snitch on us. Probably time to work out some more types of advertising to send out into the void.

I'll roll to break the tie in a couple hours if it's not already broken by then.

>>4429602
>>1. Send him to rule over the trade port as your puppet and to make sure none of his minions get any ideas about murdering you. He's already well-known there and can quash any rumors so unless news already got somewhere else then everything should blow over.
I'll tie break.

>>4429669
>>4429676
>>4430696
As much as you'd love to exploit this dude as a source of wealth and labor, you can't. You've probably pissed off multiple three-letter agencies at this point and would rather not add half the trade port's citizens to the list of people who hate you. You send him back to reclaim his territory in the name of King, make sure all his servants aren't trying to kill you anymore, and to stall anyone who happens to be asking about the environment and people who may have damaged it.

Despite giving up most of the benefits, you do gain a bit from your cook-off at the trade port. You can get some minor favors from Burger King Rayleigh without anyone noticing, a privilege which comes in handy. The contractor waved his fees since you're friends with his... boss... liege... master? Well, whatever their relationship is, the point is that the fees are waived. Better yet, apparently that mining base you want to deliver to is technically owned by King through a long series of very vague and confusing corporate connections. Long story short you can deliver food there whenever you want now. Same for the trade port- your delivery driver isn't a citizen, but he won't have to pay any entry fees. These small advantages add up and should help your delivery business greatly.

While the contractor finishes the renovations you continue your surveys throughout the surrounding area and find a few small groups of people you can deliver to. There's a few small groups of people, but nothing major like before. Once the renovations are complete you figure enough is enough and officially launch the delivery service. You map out your findings, give Jeff a cruiser, and send him off. You're sure he'll do good work. Still, there's no such thing as being too careful, so you never fill up the tank all the way and you make sure to keep an eye on where the ship is going at all times. Just in case.

>>4430854
For the first time since opening you begin raking in a steady profit. There's still only one or two customers in the store per day, but the deliveries are a completely different story. There's several runs over to the mining settlement per day, sometimes requiring you to take the big ship out to help, and scattered orders from the trade port and other people amounting to way more than a sale or two a day. Roomie is busy in the kitchen, while The Doctor, without much to do at the front counter, continues fine-tuning him. You leave him to his robotics experiments as you are frankly excited to see what he adds onto Roomie- the glorious excess of the laser cannon got your hopes up, even if that was already there before he messed with Roomie.

Good things don't last forever though, and a couple weeks after your delivery service starts up Burger King Rayleigh gives you some worrying news. A group of people have been asking around the trade port about the planet that mysteriously blew up. People with clipboards. They haven't explained what their purpose is, but they seem rather serious about this issue and an insignia representing the local government can be seen on their ship. That could mean any number of things, but most of them aren't good.
>1. Just leave them to their inquiries and go about your own business. You have advertising beacons to send out, signs to build, and menus to perfect. No time for some government pencil necks.
>2. Last time people came here for the planet you had to deal with a horde of smelly bastards. They're probably not that bad, this ruin hasn't brought you anything good- they must be made to leave at any cost. Get Burger King Rayleigh to drive them off.
>3. Things look bad, but maybe you're just jumping to conclusions. The government has a lot of better things to do than fine you, and you don't even know if you've committed any crimes other than harming that Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. You should head over to the trade port and talk to them yourself- maybe if you can talk up the place you can get some more tourists. Plus, if there were any major problems these guys would be federal, not local.
>Write-in

>>4430861
>>3. Things look bad, but maybe you're just jumping to conclusions. The government has a lot of better things to do than fine you, and you don't even know if you've committed any crimes other than harming that Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. You should head over to the trade port and talk to them yourself- maybe if you can talk up the place you can get some more tourists. Plus, if there were any major problems these guys would be federal, not local.

>>4430861

>3. Things look bad, but maybe you're just jumping to conclusions. The government has a lot of better things to do than fine you, and you don't even know if you've committed any crimes other than harming that Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. You should head over to the trade port and talk to them yourself- maybe if you can talk up the place you can get some more tourists. Plus, if there were any major problems these guys would be federal, not local.

Might as well try and get ahead of any pitfalls and rakes on the road ahead.

>>4430960
>>4431051
Whether the law has caught up to you or not, you should go face it. Better to nip any problems in the bud then to ignore them until a giant plant monster shows up at your door with eight pages worth of paperwork and fines. You tell Burger King Rayleigh to keep you abreast of the situation and head out to the trade port in his ship, which he fortunately never asked you to return.

You are once again "Mirror", ambassador of disco and the coolest cat in the disco. You no longer run the risk of imminent death coming here so you didn't think you'd need the disguise again, but given the situation it certainly couldn't hurt to use it.

"Hello sir, may I ask you a few questions?" A woman dressed in a suit and tie and carrying a clipboard approaches you- just as planned. "Alright foxy mama, what you need from Mirror?" They examine you for a moment, as if looking at an exotic alien, before continuing. "I'm currently surveying locals about the nuclear field near this sector's planet 0x38F4-g. Or, well, where it used to exist."

>>4432655
The woman simply asks a few questions about if you visited the planet before, what it was like, any surrounding installations, and if you saw anything around the time the planet blew up. Nothing too odd. Wanting to figure out what purpose the woman has here, you lay down the charm and try to inquire further.

"Hey sunshine, can you give me the lowdown? Why are ya hangin' round a joint like this and asking questions? Are you a jive turkey?" The woman taps her communicator, as if to check that her universal translator is working properly, before looking back at you. "I'm... not a jive turkey, no. I'm with a government-sponsored research group. We were thinking about setting up a station on the edge of the field and were gathering some information beforehand.

The Doctor mentioned that research stations get set up in areas like these but you kind of forgot with the whole fear of the government you've recently gained.
>1. This is a chance to get more customers, may as well encourage it. Tell Burger King Rayleigh to help them along if they need it and get away from this stone fox before she gives you the hairy eyeball.
>2. "That's far out girl. Mind lettin' me talk to the rest of your crew? I'm real into this whole science biz and would like to know more." It might be meddling, but you need to know more about what they're doing before you let their guard down. They're possible customers, but they're also part of the government. You have to do your due diligence and figure out if they can report you for anything. [Will involve a dice roll to determine how well you can pretend to be a scientist knowledgeable in their field.]
>3. They might not be the specific portion of the government that you could get in trouble with, but it's for the best if this stays a more or less lawless zone. Tell Burger King Rayleigh to do his best to get him to buzz off and make your giant field of nuclear radiation look as uninteresting as possible.
>4. There's one surefire way to get these guys to go away- to make somewhere else more interesting. If you blow up another uninhabited planet far away with even more nukes than last time then the funding will go there and they'll be drawn away! It's a genius idea!
>Write-in

>>4432658
>2. "That's far out girl. Mind lettin' me talk to the rest of your crew? I'm real into this whole science biz and would like to know more." It might be meddling, but you need to know more about what they're doing before you let their guard down. They're possible customers, but they're also part of the government. You have to do your due diligence and figure out if they can report you for anything. [Will involve a dice roll to determine how well you can pretend to be a scientist knowledgeable in their field.]

I really wanted to pick number 4 since that's exactly the kind of stuff I'd expect to happen on a wacky TV show but the whole reason we blew up the planet was to attract business and dubious or not, it seems a shame to waste it now that we have it.

>>4432658
>>1. This is a chance to get more customers, may as well encourage it. Tell Burger King Rayleigh to help them along if they need it and get away from this stone fox before she gives you the hairy eyeball.


Researchers get hungry so thats an increase in customers. But Also the Military that guards them, gets hungry too. Bonus Customers!

>>4432658
>>1. This is a chance to get more customers, may as well encourage it. Tell Burger King Rayleigh to help them along if they need it and get away from this stone fox before she gives you the hairy eyeball.

>>4432658

>1. This is a chance to get more customers, may as well encourage it. Tell Burger King Rayleigh to help them along if they need it and get away from this stone fox before she gives you the hairy eyeball.

Mainly because I don't trust /qst/ dice with this.

>>4433150
>>4433603
>>4433692
>>4433949
Well, you're suspicious of the government but that's just a bit of paranoia on your part. Any group of people nearby is a chance to get more customers, so the benefits far outweigh the slight con of having a government entity nearby.

You inform Burger King Rayleigh that he's to help them get set up if they need anything and that they aren't a threat. He takes your words to heart, and after some slight encouragement on his part the researchers decide to begin construction on their research station as soon as possible.

Over the next week you determine that Jeff is actually happy with his job and not planning to run away, so you ease up on tracking him. You are quite worried about the sudden interest in... explicit drawings you seem to have sparked in him, but you guess that's normal for someone going through puberty. Of course he is about 40, not 14, but he just learned about these things so you guess it will take some time. Damn space Amish and their shitty sex-ed.

The Doctor finishes up his adjustments on Roomie, and while there aren't any visible changes, you're still excited to take Roomie for a spin eventually and see what's different. With the in-store business still slow and his tweaks done, The Doctor takes quite a few extended breaks at the trade port, reading through Burger King Rayleigh's library and all the communications he's had with King. You normally don't approve of leaving your station during store hours, but whatever he's doing seems important, so you just shrug and leave him too it. Worst case scenario is that Gloop has to handle a customer or two, but eh, he's a cool guy. You can probably trust him with a front-facing job.

A week after the decision about the research station is officially made, a small group of spaceships land on an asteroid slightly smaller than the trade port and begin building. Their main building is prefabricated and put up immediately, but the rest of the construction will take several months and the assistance of many, many robots.

>>4434301
You decide to visit your new neighbors and inform them that you have the best burgers in the galaxy, so you take a quick flight over there. They're not even a light year away, so the trip is extremely quick. Upon arrival you're greeted by an old man in a dark robe. This is not what you expected.

"Greetings interloper. I am High Priest Groplox, leader of this flock of disciples. What is your-" Before the creepy old man can finish talking, a man in a lab coat hurriedly exits a nearby ship and cuts him off. "Welcome to Wide-Scale Nuclear Research Station 0x38F4 Gamma. This is Jason, a member of the Church of the Irradiated Light, a group which helps fund our research." "...I said it's Grop-" "Jason." The old man frowns but cows his head, a sad look on his face. "...Ok."

Somewhat daunted by the crazy you've just wandered into, you wave the scientist over and begin whispering to him, wanting to avoid another... incident. "These Church of the Irradiated Light guys, do they shower? And how bad is their crazy? Livable?" The man doesn't answer you immediately, so you quickly ask again. "Do they shower?! Please tell me they do." "Um... yeah, they shower regularly as far as I know. As for their brand of crazy... difficult to room with but I've been dealing with it for a long time at another research station. They're probably harmless?"

You're still suspicious of letting another group of weirdos into your restaurant, but somewhat reassured by the scientist you launch into promoting your restaurant in all its glory. Both of them seem somewhat intrigued and accept your promotional materials. In the interest of being good neighbors the scientist invites you inside to take a look at their research, and "High Priest Groplox" reluctantly chimes in that he'd be willing to "display his congregation" to you and "show you the glory of the Irradiated Light". This leaves you confused as to whether he's going to give you a tour of the place or expose himself to you.

Before you can answer them, you get a message on your communicator. It's from Burger King Rayleigh. Apparently King hasn't sent their regular shipment of supplies to the trade port this month, which means they probably realized that something was off. This... doesn't sound good.
>1. While you're worried about the trade port, it can wait a little bit- they just stopped sending supplies, it's not an immediate problem. May as well take a tour around this base, make sure the crazy here isn't out of your league. Hell, maybe they could even help you with your new problem, you never know.
>2. Decline their invitation and hurry over to the trade port to speak to Burger King Rayleigh in more detail. You're not sure what exactly King is planning to do to you for exorcising their evil burger ghost, but you have a bad feeling.
>Write-in

>>4434307

>2. Decline their invitation and hurry over to the trade port to speak to Burger King Rayleigh in more detail. You're not sure what exactly King is planning to do to you for exorcising their evil burger ghost, but you have a bad feeling.

Supplies not showing up at a trade port is bad news. Can't do trade if they don't have anything to trade with.

>>4434307
>2. Decline their invitation and hurry over to the trade port to speak to Burger King Rayleigh in more detail. You're not sure what exactly King is planning to do to you for exorcising their evil burger ghost, but you have a bad feeling.
Hopefully this one doesn't randomly quote another thread.

2. Decline their invitation and hurry over to the trade port to speak to Burger King Rayleigh in more detail. You're not sure what exactly King is planning to do to you for exorcising their evil burger ghost, but you have a bad feeling.

This seems more urgent.

>>4434307
>>2. Decline their invitation and hurry over to the trade port to speak to Burger King Rayleigh in more detail. You're not sure what exactly King is planning to do to you for exorcising their evil burger ghost, but you have a bad feeling.

Dont want the trade port to blow up do we?

>>4434313
>>4434392
>>4434403
>>4434820
It might cause a misunderstanding, but this is urgent. You can't waste time here right now. "I'm sorry but something important just came up. I'll take you up on that tour some other time." The scientist seems to either not care or to understand, although the high priest is clearly upset. You're not sure if it's because he doesn't believe you or if he's just disappointed, but it doesn't matter right now- you need to get to the trade port.

You nervously drive your ship over to the trade port and enter directly into Burger King Rayleigh's residence through a small garage built into the back. It's cramped since one of his personal ships and the cruiser The Doctor took over are also parked here but you manage to make it work somehow. After squeezing in you make your way to Burger King Rayleigh's office, where he sits there tapping at the trade port's main computer with a pale face.

"None of my calls are reaching my contacts at King or headquarters. My access to all of their sites and databases have been revoked. I'm cut off." Rayleigh backs away from the computer as he says this and gestures for you to take a seat. You do so and try to evaluate the situation. "How long is it until supplies run out?" "I called for a full check of the inventory but it's not finished yet. Still, I have a pretty good idea of what's going to happen. In a month, maybe a little more, unimportant stuff will start disappearing. Then around two months in more important things will disappear. Without intervention there will be probably be a rush to buy out necessities or leave the trade port at this point. Ignoring what effect that might cause, we'll run out of food somewhere between three and four months in. The only saving grace is that we produce our own water, but without any outside sources at all we'll have to ration it. The mining base will also have problems, but those will be long after the trade port starts falling into chaos- they're restocked annually."

So the long and the short of it is that this place is screwed without someone sending in supplies. Still, there's a few months- plenty of time to find someone else to provide essentials. "Have you contacted other companies yet? As long as you pay there should be plenty of larger trade posts or planets willing to sell you what you need, right?" "King mainly kept this place just so they had a presence in the area- it wasn't particularly profitable. That meant that we got a slight discount on everything and didn't have to pay for delivery. Unfortunately now that's not the case- we'll have to pay for delivery since I don't directly control a large enough fleet of ships to ship what we need here, and that's if we can even find someone interested in selling here. I was hoping my old contacts could help me with this, but even the ones not from King have cut me off. I'm not sure what to do here."

>>4435508
Rayleigh sits there, head in his hands, as he tries to figure out what to do. You act similarly. After a moment Rayleigh sighs and speaks up. "We need supplies and we need them soon, but we also need to address the root problem. King. If anyone under me had reported what happened to King then I would know about it- they're all ridiculously loyal and aren't high up enough to know about me being possessed. Since none of them did it, that means King has their own plants here who reported what happened back to headquarters. While we try to fix this, we need to keep in mind that they'll be trying to sabotage us the whole way. ...Any ideas?"

You're honestly not sure what to do here, but Rayleigh seems to be lost so you guess the responsibility is on you.
>...Or not. "Rayleigh, you've managed this place for a while, even if you weren't really in control. You can figure things out, although if there's anything I can do, just tell me." You'd rather not the trade port's citizens just disappear, but you're not qualified to handle this.
[Voting for this leaves the next two decisions up to Rayleigh]

Regarding rationing...
>1. You have a few months, you'll be fine. With King's agents hiding in the trade port, you need to worry about them stirring up unrest more than anything else. Tell Rayleigh to act as normal regarding the supplies remaining in the port.
>2. There's plenty of time left, but you can't be too careful. Tell Rayleigh to start quietly rationing what's left while you try to find someone who's willing to sell supplies to this backwater at a reasonable price.
>3. This is dangerous. Depending on how influential King is, it might be difficult to secure a supplier in a short time. Tell Rayleigh to start rationing out necessities for the long-haul and to do everything he can to prevent buyouts.
>Write-in

Regarding militarization...
>1. Tell Rayleigh to keep his weird murder squad at the ready, but to take no major actions. Since King only cut you guys off, they're clearly not willing to use force right now... right?
>2. Get the guards around the port and Rayleigh's men to increase their patrols and stay on high alert. It make people a little on edge, but hopefully it can suppress any attempts to incite chaos inside the trade port itself.
>3. Recruit anyone who wants a job, shove any spare weapons onto a free ship, pull in employees from the mining base if you need to. King isn't going to end it just like this- it's supplies today, it's a fleet of angry soldiers tomorrow. It might freak out the people, but who cares- you need to be ready for war.
>Write-in

>>4435509
After deciding on a course of action for the time being, you get ready to leave and search for people willing to supply the trade port. That's when you get a call on your communicator from an ID you don't recognize. You hesitantly let it through and are greeted by a voice you vaguely recognize "Hey man, wassup!" "Are you.. the turtle?" "Yeah man, that's right! It's been a while, huh?" "How did you get this number?" "Jeff told me. He seemed like a stiff back home but now that we can talk he's actually pretty cool. We've been chatting a little when he delivers to the trade port, jamming, talking about our art. Stuff like that." You're oddly curious what happens when the turtle and Jeff talk about their 'art' together, but unfortunately you don't think you'll have the chance to see. Still, it's nice that he made a friend.

"Anyways, bro, meet me in the main hall of the trade port. I have a wicked trip planned, and it'll only take a day or two. You seemed pretty cool, you gotta come with me."
>1. You have much more important things to deal with, there's not time to deal with stoned turtles. Tell him you're busy, hang up, and then start looking for suppliers who may be able to help.
>2. You have much more important things to deal with, there's not time to deal with stoned turtles. Tell him you're busy, hang up, and visit the mining base and the new research base to see if they can temporarily help the trade port at all.
>3. You have no time to deal with most stoned turtles, but this is a rare Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. One you almost killed by accident. He may seem fine with you now, but he knows what happened- you need to keep him on your good side. You'll spare some time to go on the trip with him and keep whatever replaced the EPA off your ass. You don't want to get double-teamed right now.
>Write-in

>>4435509
>2. There's plenty of time left, but you can't be too careful. Tell Rayleigh to start quietly rationing what's left while you try to find someone who's willing to sell supplies to this backwater at a reasonable price.
Out of curiosity, assuming I didn't miss it in a previous post, but where are we getting our food supplies from? We could see to connecting that here or something.
>2. Get the guards around the port and Rayleigh's men to increase their patrols and stay on high alert. It make people a little on edge, but hopefully it can suppress any attempts to incite chaos inside the trade port itself.
Just in case.
>>4435511
>3. You have no time to deal with most stoned turtles, but this is a rare Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. One you almost killed by accident. He may seem fine with you now, but he knows what happened- you need to keep him on your good side. You'll spare some time to go on the trip with him and keep whatever replaced the EPA off your ass. You don't want to get double-teamed right now.
To be honest, I just want to go on a fun trip with stoner turtle before shit gets real.

>>4435509
>>...Or not. "Rayleigh, you've managed this place for a while, even if you weren't really in control. You can figure things out, although if there's anything I can do, just tell me." You'd rather not the trade port's citizens just disappear, but you're not qualified to handle this.
>>4435511
>3. You have no time to deal with most stoned turtles, but this is a rare Andromeda Land-Space Turtle. One you almost killed by accident. He may seem fine with you now, but he knows what happened- you need to keep him on your good side. You'll spare some time to go on the trip with him and keep whatever replaced the EPA off your ass. You don't want to get double-teamed right now.

>>4435570
>Out of curiosity, assuming I didn't miss it in a previous post, but where are we getting our food supplies from? We could see to connecting that here or something.
Since you were just sent out into space and expected to be unable to get supplies for a significant amount of time (read: up to dozens of years) after arriving, McSpacies are mostly self-sufficient. In areas where it can't reasonable be self-sufficient you were sent with large quantities of whatever you needed.
So you have crates full of food at your store and a couple of machines/microfarms that produce small quantities of certain ingredients, but nothing that can feed an entire trade port.

>>4435708
Darn.
Votes staying the same either way.

Hoping for a tiebreaker on the first part of the vote by the time I update, but if there isn't one I'll just gloss over it and leave the vote open for an update or two since you'll be off with the turtle anyways.

>>4435570
>>4435700
You can't piss off the turtle, it has dirt on you. The timing is inconvenient, but you should take it up on its offer. You need time to think about what to do here anyways. "Rayleigh, I'll be back in a couple of days. Until then keeps things as normal here and watch out for interference from King. I'll try to figure out something." He weakly nods and heads back to his computer, looking over various graphs and figures, hoping to find something he overlooked, something that will fix the situation.

With some free time thrust upon you, you relax and head over to the main hall of the trade port. There you spot the giant turtle wearing a custom-made tie-die shirt and a pair of enormous shades. A tiny hunk of metal is strapped to his back. "Suh man! You ready to roll?" "Uh... sure I guess? Where's your ship?" "Ship? We don't need one of those! Hop on!"

You hesitantly climb on top of the oversized turtle and enter the hunk of metal on its back, which turns out to be a small pod just large enough for you to cram yourself into. Once you're in the turtle speeds out into space at a speed which astonishes you. It's nowhere near as fast as modern ships, but the turtle is definitely travelling close to lightspeed, which is amazing for a living creature.

Once you're away from the port the turtle stops and screams out into the void of space. The space in front of him seems to vibrate for a moment before tearing open and revealing an endlessly black space. As it opens up you hear music suddenly start playing, pouring out of the hole and filling your surroundings. It is oddly epic, so much so that it's almost to the point of cheesiness and absurdity. https://youtu.be/3eq-qUy-a-A

"What's the weird tear in space for? Final boss fight?" The turtle chortles as he heads closer to the tear in space. "Nah man, nah. It's just how we got around- how else would we get all the way from Andromeda to the Milky Way?" "And the music?" "Ah, it's what my dad always played for the ride. Now that you mention it, it's a little out there, isn't it? Lemme fix it up."

The turtle switches the terrifying black void before you to one full of crazy patterns and bright colors, and a tune that seems much more appropriate begins pouring out it. https://youtu.be/L3HQMbQAWRc "Alrighhhhhh dude... off we go."

As the turtle flies into the crack in space the sound of the music breaks apart and all the lovely patterns and shapes you can see distort into something... horrifying. A cacophony of sound bursts into your ears and you feel like you can hear the universe itself scream out in terror, at knowing it exists, at knowing the fate that awaits it at the end, the fate that exists for everyone at the end. This state seems to only last for a moment, but at the same time part of your mind seems to be stuck in there for a long, long time. Far too long.

You're deeply horrified as you exit the turtle's portal. He's still singing under his breath. "Don't worry... be happy... doo doo doo... oh, we're through!" "Yeah... we're through." "You seem a little off dude? Was it rough for yah? I heard humans don't like our way of gettin' round much?" "It... very rough. Horrible even. How long were we in there?" "A minute maybe? Couldn't be more. How long did it feel like?" "It feels longer than you think man. Longer than you think."

Still recovering your sanity, the turtle approaches a nearby planet. Once you feel ready you look at it, and feel a bit better. The planet is large, at least half the size of Earth, and is populated by a few wide, sprawling cities that cover around half the land area. This is the biggest place you've seen since leaving home, and it reassures you somewhat. You knew that humanity was doing well and that colonizing space had worked but, well, you it didn't really sink in until you got to see it for yourself.

"This is Munchie, and I brought you cause I got some shit I want to eat and you're, like, a chef, right?" You don't think someone who can only cook one dish well is a chef, but your burgers are some of the best, so you agree. No need to let the poor turtle down- hell, if you say you're not it might just decide to go back home, and you can't handle the existential terror portal before you get the chance to speak to psychiatrist.

You descend onto one of Munchie's biggest cities as the turtle talks about the planet's history. Apparently the people "are, like, really hungry, you dig?" because of the combination of a previously-popular weight-loss implant that simply burned massive amounts of calories for the user and certain... substances... which gained popularity here. This has led to the planet being a flourishing place for all manner of foodies.

As you descend onto the planet, you are taken away to a sushi place. And then a barbecue place. And then a smoothie place. At first it's fun, but by the fifth restaurant you're beginning to regret you career choice and you never want to eat anything again. The portions here are insanely large and everyone seems to take it as a personal insult if you don't want to finish. You hurt. As you're losing hope of escaping this planet alive, the turtle offers you a few mushrooms. "Yoooo man, they got some of the mushrooms from my old place here! Want some!"
>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]
>2. As, uh... lovely as hanging out with this turtle has been, you're not sure what will happen if you're both inebriated. You'll decline. [Will need to roll to determine how much food you can consume]
>3. Pretend not to hear the turtle and escape into the city, it's out to kill you. It already traumatized you for life and is trying to fatten you up, you're not trusting a damn thing that it offers you.
>Write-in

>>4437574
>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>4437574
>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]

Lets Boogie

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>4437574
>>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>4437574
>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]

Will update soonish, if anyone who hasn't voted yet has an opinion on the votes from >>4435509 then I'd appreciate if you could put something down, it's still open and tied between:
>...Or not
and
>2
>2
>>4437946
i'll be taking this roll
whether this was a bo3 or just me taking the first roll can be left up to your imagination

>>4438885
One note, before take them. Can we use a sharpie to write "Don't Worry, You are just on a lot of drugs."

>>4438919
Sent that too fast. Write 'Everything is fine, you are just on mushrooms" on our palm or something.

>>4437574

>1. You've never tried drugs before but goddammit you need something to get through this slog of food. Sure, you'll have some. [Will need to roll for a bad trip or a good trip.]

With the write-in here >>4438923

We've had a stressful time lately, maybe time to chill out for a while.

>>4437751
>>4437946
>>4438148
>>4438830
>>4439025
Well, you're been kind of stressed out by this whole King thing so maybe you need to relax a little. Plus, your stomach is going to explode at this rate. Sure, you'll have some of whatever these mushrooms are. You take the mushrooms from the turtle, shove them into your mouth, and eat them. They're crunchy. And flavorless. After eating them you borrow a sharpie from someone and scribble something onto your right hand, a reminder. "Everything's fine. You're just high." Hopefully that should do the trick if anything... bad... happens.

You're onto the sixth restaurant and still feel exactly the same as before. The 'munchies' have not appeared yet and you want to slip into a food coma and leave this cruel, cruel world behind. You tell the turtle to hand you some more shrooms, and, not paying much attention, he gives you about eight. You chow down on them and within a couple minutes you start feeling different. Guess that did the trick.

At first you feel just feel very warm and comfortable. It's like you're wrapped in a nice, thick blanket. Then the hunger kicks in and your previous woes are gone. About ten minutes after that, it's a few weird things that you don't think should exist and some weird spots of color. It's not super strong, but hey, you're having fun with it. Then shit goes wild.

You really didn't need that second dose. The turtle really shouldn't have given you the second dose. Unfortunately a several ton turtle does not fully understand the amount of weird space mushrooms needed to perk an averaged-sized human up. So your dosage is not that- it's enough to send you on a fuckin' journey.

There's lights swirling everywhere and you don't really understand how shit fits together. It's like you're living in an McEsher painting. Still, it's cool- really cool actually. You'll all warm and comfortable and happy, and you taste a lot of good things. Everything's crazy, but navigable. Then the turtle says something he shouldn't have. "You're really trippin bro. Looks good though! Just remember- don't worry, be happy!"

Why did that fucking idiot have to remind you of what you now recognize as the theme song to the universe's existential dread. For the next ten minutes the song is quietly playing in the back of your mind, threatening to burst out. The colors from before are dark, and the weird stuff is not as amiable as before. Stuff is getting scary and you're panicking. Eventually you give up, and let it fill your mind.

Once you just let it do what it wants, everything gets a lot less scary. You feel kind of... empty, and your head is filled with some harsh, kind of ominous, noise but it's not unpleasant. You're just thinking. About life. About the universe. About everything really. The world kind of fades away while you're doing this, although you're definitely doing things. Just on autopilot. Or maybe you're not doing as much as you think- you're honestly not sure.

>>4439154
And then, as suddenly as it came, the emptiness leaves you. You're happy again. Really really happy. Everything kinds of fades away in a haze and you don't really remember what happened after this, although you do know you had a lot of fun doing it. Eventually you wake up, and things seem normal. Well, physiologically- as for your surroundings, everything is not normal, not at all.

You are dressed in a dirty pair of overalls which definitely aren't yours and a t-shirt that says "I ate Big Marcie's triple Marcie and lived!" There is a large, discolored scar on your right hand that you did not have before. There is a man dressed in a Santa Claus costume still sleeping on the other side of the massive bed you're in. Thankfully he is fully clothed. Around the room you see many empty take-out containers and more than a few bottles of alcohol. Lucky Star is playing on a massive TV placed in front of the bed. You're not even sure what it is, or why you know its name now, but it's definitely Lucky Star that's playing. A stereo next to the TV is playing a shoegaze song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=88_P7Set8mw at such a loud volume you're surprised that you or "Santa" could sleep. Much like with the TV is, you're not sure what shoegaze is or what's playing. It just is.

As you get out of bed and look around, you realize that you're in a hotel room. This hotel room is fucking huge, and is probably the penthouse suite. Besides the room you woke up in, there's a massive bathroom, a kitchen, a sitting room, a veranda with a hot tub. Inside the hot tub is a walrus. You try to communicate with it, assuming it's some sort of alien, but it doesn't speak. So you figure it's just a normal walrus. The walrus, just like the man in the santa costume, is also wearing a santa costume, beard and all.

>>4439160
The room is filled with many unique forms of chaos, and at some point it all becomes so ridiculous you decide just not to process it all. Still... you have no idea what the fuck happened... fuck, was it last night? You check your communi- wait, no, not your communicator. This is someone else's. Anyways, it was last night- and last day- and the night before that. So the last 36 hours or so are a blank. You should figure that out.
>1. Wake "Santa" up and have a chat with him, he should know something about why you're in this huge hotel room. You'd also like to confirm that you weren't on Santa's, uh... naughty list, and that he's just here for a more benign purpose.
>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]
>3. Sort out the chaos in the room a bit better, it's all a bit overwhelming but you can figure out what the fuck happened by sorting through what's in here.
>Write-in

>>4439163

>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]

Mainly for the laughs, plus even if the walrus isn't going to talk, someone will probably wake up and interrupt us eventually.

>>4439163
>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]

Fucking kek

>>4439163
>>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]
I love our Inhuman Patience.

>>4439163
>>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]

>>4439163
>2. Maybe there's still some drugs in your system, but you refuse to believe that that walrus is just a walrus. It has to be sentient, right- you wouldn't just bring a walrus up to your room, no matter how high you were. [Option changed due to Inhuman Patience. You will grill this walrus (figuratively) and figure out what you need to know. And you will not take silence for an answer.]

>>4439172
>>4439584
>>4439623
>>4439733
>>4440059
This walrus is suspicious. It's just sitting there in your hot tub, ignoring you, and having a fucking ball doing it. You're not going to put up with that! You know it's sentient, and that it's just not giving you the respect you deserve. And you're gonna figure out what the fuck it knows about all of... whatever the this is. Nobody outsmarts you! Especially not some holly jolly smug pinniped motherfucker!

"I know you're listening. What happened here. Why are you here. Why are you dressed like... uh... Santa Walrus. Why did... you know what, I'll just make it short and easy for you- WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!" Spittle covers the walrus's face as you scream the last part at it. It doesn't seem to care much. After a few seconds it lets out a deep, bassy grumble and begins flopping around the hot tub. "So you think you're tough, huh, is that it? You don't have to talk to some two-legged chickenlegs like me, huh? Well I'll have you know I never skipped leg day, not once in 40,000 years! Of course that was just the AI making sure my muscles didn't atrophy, but... hey, hey, are you listening! What the fuck are you doing to that jet!" As your intimidating monologue comes to a close the walrus casually destroys one of the hot tub's jets. You really hope you won't have to pay for that.

The next hour is spent playing bad cop. You shine a light in the walrus's face, slap it around a little, and scream at it. You break out every trick in the book, but the floppy bastard doesn't give in. All you get are the many beautiful noises of this dignified creature. Unfortunately none of them can be interpreted into language. But you're not ready to give in- you just have to change your approach. You stumble through the hotel room and find a communicator embedded into the wall. You use it to call room service. "Hey, can I get a katsudon, cept' with deep fried fish instead of pork... because I like it, who cares? 15 minutes? Thank you."

In the time it takes the food to arrive you pull apart a few random pieces of clothes from across the room and change into them, donning a "disguise" that even a walrus can probably see through. You crack the door open to accept your room service, afraid of letting them see inside the room, and then take the food to the walrus.

>>4440696
"It must be rough, huh? I bet you're hungry. Here, take this." You slide the fish-topped katsudon to the walrus, who slurps it, bowl and all, into into his mouth like a giant vacuum. You then stand next to the side of the hot tub with an amiable expression on your face. "Look man, I'm on your side here. That asshole from before was going overboard. Now, how'd everything end up like this? Just tell me and I can get him off your back." There's a short pause before the walrus accidentally headbutts you while moving around. You're knocked to the ground swearing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. How do you think your family would feel about this, huh! About what you've done! Don't you feel any remorse?!" The walrus just lets out a pleased grunt in response. Ok, you're done- this lunatic has been making fun of you relentlessly and clearly won't give in with the weak methods you've been using so far. It's time to turn it up to 11!

You loudly scream as you pump the hot tub up to maximum settings. "FUCK GOOD COP! FUCK BAD COP! FUCK EVERYTHING! IF YOU'RE GONNA STAY SILENT THEN YOU'RE GOING DOWN WITH ME WALRUS!" You angrily slap the hot tub's control panel as the jets go to max and the water becomes unbearably hot. The walrus seems angered by this change, but not realizing that you're behind it, just stays put. You are maniacally laughing. As you do so, Santa wakes up.

"The fuck are you doing dude?! How'd Dasher piss you off?!" "Dasher... that's a walrus, not a reindeer." "I told you that! But no, since you had Santa you had to get eight reindeer to go with it. And since you couldn't find any of those you figured any Christmas-y animal would work." You reluctantly give up your interrogation, ignoring the uncomfortably hot walrus, and turn to Santa. "You seem to know what's going on. What was I doing? Why are you here?"

Santa seems unsure as how to answer, but lets out a sigh of relief as he contemplates what to say. "Well, at least you're normal now. Couple days ago you came to the place I worked at with a big-ass scar on your hand and asked to rent a Santa impersonator. Then I came out, and you told me that you needed to help to go pick up some 'hoe hoe hoes'. I was being paid so I had no room to refuse and was ready to be your wingman, but then you said that we needed to get eight reindeer first. Then you ended up getting all those walruses, about twenty of them, and... god that was a mess." Santa begins muttering, and you can't make much out besides 'walrus shit everywhere'.

>>4440699
You got twenty walruses?! Now you're worried- where are the rest! You interrupted Santa and ask, although you're scared of the answer. "The rest? Oh, those were rentals, so that's fine. This one, you, uh... took a liking to. Do you know who made the album that's playing?" Now that Santa mentions it, that music from earlier is still playing on repeat. No artist immediately comes to mind, but after a few seconds spent thinking and a furtive glance thrown at Dasher, you have a guess. "...Was it walrus?" "Yup. Somebody at a bar showed you this album after seeing the first few walruses you'd gathered, and you fell in love with it. Then upon meeting that walrus, you became convinced that it had made the album. You talked to it for hours about your views on music and tried to get it to teach you about music production. I don't think you learned anything but hey, you seemed happy, so I didn't interrupt you."

"Ok then. So I rented out that walrus longer than the rest?" Santa laughs. "Rented? No, no, no, you adopted that one." A horrified expression appears on your face, and Santa quickly tries to comfort you. "That's real good of you though! There are way too many stray walruses around here, way too many! I think it's real swell that you did what you did- lots of people don't neuter or spay theirs and then get tired of them, leaving all us hard working folks to deal with them. Responsibly taking care of one of these majestic..." The walrus loudly farts, interrupting Santa. He clears his throat and continues. "As I was saying, taking in one of these majestic creatures is a real nice thing of you to do. As a local, I appreciate it."

So you own a walrus now. Great. "I have a lot to sort out, but a few last questions for now. What the fuck is on the TV, why are we here, and where is my communicator." "Uh, that's Lucky Star on the TV. You got kind of catatonic for a while, looked for something to watch, and then watched the entire thing in its entirety with Dasher. You then started talking about the good ol' days and how modern television is shit. After that you started crying in the bathroom for a few hours and I just left you alone. I think that's the last I talked to you actually. As for the hotel room, you said we needed a base of operations to 'get the bitches' and rented it out."

Oh god, you're paying for this room. You had a good bit saved up, but you might've just annihilated your savings. Shit. As a revelation even more worrying than your new pet sinks in, Santa finishes answering you questions. "You traded your communicator with some chick's at the hotel bar instead of swapping numbers. Said it was easier that way. No idea if she's still here- that was over a day ago."

>>4440701
Before your brain can even begin processing the new piece of bad news, a robotic voice speaks from the communicator embedded in the hotel's wall. "Mr. 'mmmmm I dunno man just put uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh unintelligible mumbling', your check out time is in one hour. Please collect your things and turn your keys into the front desk by then. Thank you for your stay at Five Guys Suites and we hope you come again."
>1. Alright, you need to clean this place up quick, put together any pieces that might explain more about last night, and get this walrus out of here. You're sure as hell not paying for another night here and you're not staying behind to deal with the fallout from what you've done to this poor room.
>2. "Can I extend my stay for another day? My plans changed, just charge it to the card I gave you." You need more time to sort this all out, money be damned. Plus this room probably can't be cleaned fully in an hour, let alone the walrus... er, your walrus, retrieved from the hot tub.
>3. Alright, fuck everything in this room, you need to track down whoever you gave your communicator to before they kick you out. Better head down to the hotel bar and hope the bartender remembers something.
>Write-in
vote is still open for that tied one a few updates back btw
it will be closed whenever we get through The Hangover: Space Shrooms edition

>>4435509
>2. There's plenty of time left, but you can't be too careful. Tell Rayleigh to start quietly rationing what's left while you try to find someone who's willing to sell supplies to this backwater at a reasonable price.
>2. Get the guards around the port and Rayleigh's men to increase their patrols and stay on high alert. It make people a little on edge, but hopefully it can suppress any attempts to incite chaos inside the trade port itself.

>>4440702
>3. Alright, fuck everything in this room, you need to track down whoever you gave your communicator to before they kick you out. Better head down to the hotel bar and hope the bartender remembers something.

>>4440702
>3. Alright, fuck everything in this room, you need to track down whoever you gave your communicator to before they kick you out. Better head down to the hotel bar and hope the bartender remembers something.
Also bring the walrus.
Majestic new mascot? coming right up.

>>4440702
>>3. Alright, fuck everything in this room, you need to track down whoever you gave your communicator to before they kick you out. Better head down to the hotel bar and hope the bartender remembers something.

Bring Walrus with us

>>4440816
>>4440873
>>4441937
Alright, fuck the mess that is this room, you need your communicator. Better head down to hotel bar and see if the bartender can help you figure out something. As you prepare to leave the chaos of the room behind you, Santa gestures to the walrus. "What about Dasher?" "Eh... I guess we'll bring him." You head over to the hot tub, guiltily turn the settings back down, and then wade in and try to get the walrus out.

Any drugs left in your system are quickly expunged by the pain involved in getting a walrus out of a hot tub. They have a saying back on Earth- "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink." You can't lead a walrus to anything. Fortunately Santa is around to help you, and he has some sort of leash/harness thing that you bought for it, so after 15 minutes of struggling you manage to get Dasher out of the hot tub. Still soaked, you head down to the hotel bar.

The bartender cautiously greets you and your entourage, and since the place is rather deserted right now, you launch immediately into questioning. "A day or two ago I traded my communicator with some girl at this bar. Is she still staying here? I need to get my communicator back." The bartender seems confused, but after a second he snaps his fingers. "Oh, are you the disco guy?" Disco guy? You aren't... you didn't even bring your disguise with you. Still, who knows, maybe you are the disco guy. "Did he call himself Mirror?" "Yup." Ok, so you are the disco guy. The mysteries behind what you were up to are getting slightly clearer, and at the same time more confusing. "That was me then. Tell me what you know."

"Well, there was this chick dressed up in a real weird outfit, some disco thing. She had a dude dressed similarly with her. They were drinking for a few hours, but then got into an argument. Then you showed up and started hitting on her. The guy got pissed off, for some reason there seemed to be some sort of dance off, and after the two of you laid down some sick moves he ran off. Then you traded communicators with the chick and came over here to drink several bottles of alcohol. You didn't say much that made sense, but there was a lot of stuff about a walrus, a turtle, and a dance competition." A turtle? You'd love to know where the hell your ride back home went, you should ask about that. "I say anything specific about the turtle that you remember? He was my ride and I dunno where he went." "Sorry man, you never dropped a place or anything. Just swore at it for half an hour before praising it for the next half hour. You did mention something about the dancing thing though- I think you said it was later today and that you were gonna 'stomp some fools'? Not sure."

>>4442256
So you're supposed to 'stomp some fools' later today. Great. Well, at least it's a lead. "Uh, Santa, could you look that up for me and see what that dance competition might be?" "Sure boss, on it." "And while you're at it, how long do I have you? You said I rented you out, but you never mentioned how long." Santa puts down his communicator and stares at you with an odd expression. "Uh... it's... look, I'd give you a refund if I could but I can't dude, this is the most work I've gotten in a long time. You have another eight weeks of labor from me at 40 hours a week. Paid me upfront and everything. I can leave if you want, but..." You're beginning to wonder how you could afford to pay Santa here for eight weeks on top of everything else- at this rate you wouldn't be surprised if all the expenses you incurred while high could be more than you had saved up. ...Did you earn money while you were high? How did you earn money while you were high? Nevermind, you don't want to think about it.

Since you already paid him you just tell Santa to keep looking, and you figure that you'll go head to the front desk and check out since there's only a little over half an hour before check out. As you go to leave, the bartender calls out to you. "Before you go you should check the laundromat on the bottom floor! Your costume should be clean by now." ...Your costume? "The disco one?" "Yeah. And, uh, a few other things. You'll figure it out when you get there. Just give them your ticket and you'll get your stuff." You quickly check your pockets. You have no ticket. Fuck.
>1. Time is of the essence, you need to figure out everything before this dance competition happens or the turtle leaves. Check out and then figure out what to do with your new sidekicks.
>2. You'd love to leave, you're soaked and will probably need that disco outfit if there's some dance thing. Time to go back to your room to find that damn ticket. [Will require a roll to see how well you search the room before checkout.]
>3. You need that outfit, but you're not too interested in whatever else you gave to the launderer there. Maybe if you hurry down to the laundromat and tell them what you need they'll give it to you, ticket or not. [Will require a roll to talk the employees into giving your outfit back.]
>4. Alright, time to put Santa to use. Tell him to take the walrus and head downstairs. You'll search the room for your laundromat ticket and you're not done by checkout he's to cause a ruckus and buy you some extra time to search. Nobody can deal with you if they're busy dealing with Santa and his faithful walrus steed.
>5. You have no idea how much money is left in your bank account but you can still use an ATM without your communicator. Withdraw as much as you can and try to book another night, you're not getting this shit sorted out in half an hour.
>Write-in

>>4442258
>2. You'd love to leave, you're soaked and will probably need that disco outfit if there's some dance thing. Time to go back to your room to find that damn ticket. [Will require a roll to see how well you search the room before checkout.]

Heads up, will update sometime in the morning/afternoon, schedule didn't work out today.
Guess I'll take >>4442592 as the winning vote, if anons want they can give me 3 1d20 or 1 3d20 by morning and I'll take bo3. If not then I'll roll them before I start writing.
Sorry for the delay, if I get votes fast enough I'll update again around this time tomorrow night.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4443451
No problem bro.

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4443451

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>4443451

>>4443460
>>4443737
>>4443818
You rolled a 20 for searching the room before check out. Critical success.
Guess it's time to find some useful shit.
Writing after I grab lunch.

>>4443460
>>4443737
>>4443818
You hurry back to your room with Santa and the walrus in tow. You need to find that laundry ticket, and hopefully anything else that can help you, and quick. Upon arriving at the room you roll your sleeves up, take a deep breath, and tell Santa to keep watch at the door. If you want to do this right, you're gonna have to do it yourself.

Anyone who wanted to own a McSpacies franchise had to go through rigorous training in order to prepare them for the perils of space and restaurant management. Part of this training was a four-year stint spent at Hamburger University, the only ivy-league culinary school on Earth. As you enter the hotel room you recall your time at Hamburger University and enter into the zone. 100 restaurant arts, Number #30- Lightspeed Lunch Rush Cleaning.

Your eyes scan the room methodically until you spot what you need- a broom. You grab the broom, and in your current state it feels like an extension of your body. You thrust the broom as out as quickly as you can, knocking several empty food containers and bottles of alcohol into the air, and then knock them into a trashcan with the wooden end of the broom. Logic would dictate that the Styrofoam containers flutter to the ground and that the bottles shatter, but with your sharp mind and careful finesse, everything is sent flying into a nearby trashcan without incident.

Your careful moves are repeated over and over, and within minutes the room starts looking cleaner. After 15 minutes what was formerly a pig-sty is now squeaky clean. The trash is just barely contained within all of the cans in the penthouse suite, and the pleasant smell of soap fills the air. Around this point light returns to your eyes and you drop the broom to the ground, tired. You did it. Now to find what you need.

>>4444118
A quick search of what's left yields your laundry ticket, but besides that there are a few other items of interest. One of these is a small briefcase which was previous buried under a pile of trash. It is covered in shiny sequins and purple fuzz, and has a label which just says "OPEN IN CASE THERE'S A PANIC AT THE DISCO". You open it, curious, and find more bags of sequins, a few wigs, Gatorade, and other odds and ends for the disco king in a bind. The most interesting among these odds and ends is a small, nondescript ball with a red button on the side. Cursive lettering on its side says "Evacuate the dancefloor.". This seems some sort of trump card- you'll keep it close.

Besides the disco kit, you find a communicator ID which you scribbled down, a tube-shaped piece of metal which seems to be a part for something, some more mushrooms, a couple photos, and an instruction manual for the "Experimental Calorie Burner v4670XX". A quick glance at the photos reveals that they're of you, and were taken using some kind of old-timey camera- maybe a "Polaroid"? One is you sitting at a table with a massive crowd around you. Your arm is lifted in victory and is holding a large novelty check for several million credits. "I ate Big Marcie's triple Marcie and lived!" is scribbled on the photo in sharpie. Well, this would explain how you made money while high. You're relieved as you honestly expected something much... worse to say the least. The other photo is of you in a bar, locking arms with a one-armed old man. "Cool old fucker" is written on it, again in sharpie. You can't be sure, but you have a feeling that the communicator ID belongs to him, although you don't remember who the hell he is.

The final item of interest, the instruction manual for the "Experimental Calorie Burner v4670XX", explains the massive scar on your hand. Apparently "installation of the ECBv4670XXX can result in temporary scarring and other side effects". The "ECBv4607XXX" is a "miracle device" whose purpose is to store massive amounts of calories so that you can keep eating as long as you want. If you really want to these calories can be sent back into the body as energy, or they can be dispersed via a "heatsink mechanism". According to the diagrams this "heatsink mechanism" disperses the caloric energy contained within the ECB by piping the energy out of the body and having it exit from "the body's natural vent: the mouth". It then proceeds to warn you to regularly vent the unit, as it is untested at venting higher quantities of calories. What you get from this is that you can shoot a badass laser out of your mouth if you so choose and that the longer you wait and the more you eat the bigger it gets. You were really questioning high you's judgement before, but this is actually pretty damn cool. Maybe you should get high more often.

>>4444122
After examining everything you hurry out of the more or less intact room and down to the laundry. There you're given your disco costume, another santa costume, and a series of increasingly silly hats. As Santa laughs at the amusingly large (and ever-increasing) quantity of hats, he explains that you went a bit wild at the costume store when you were outfitting him and the walruses. Great.

You head to the front counter, check out, and pray that they will not be contacting you later in order to collect for damages. As you leave the hotel, Santa gives you some good news and some bad news. The good news is that he found the dance competition. The bad news is that it starts in half an hour and you need to hurry there right now. At first you don't really consider the bad news as bad news, since you only need your communicator anyways, but then Santa informs you that the reward for winning the competition is 10 million credits split between a team of two dancers. Given your recent spending, you would very much like to win this money.

>What are you waiting for then? Better hurry over there in time for the qualifiers.
>You know you need to get over there, but you have a feeling that you should call this number you found. You can't access most of the functions on this communicator because the damn retinal lock is still on it, but if you hurry to a public one you should be able to call it before you go to the competition.
>DJ Sun Tzu once said that "To win one hundred victories in one hundred dance-offs is not the acme of skill. To serve the enemy without dancing is the acme of skill." You might be a little late, but you need to prepare an entrance, to make sure to shock the dancefloor when you get there. The hero always arrives fashionably late anyways.
>Other

>>4444129
>DJ Sun Tzu once said that "To win one hundred victories in one hundred dance-offs is not the acme of skill. To serve the enemy without dancing is the acme of skill." You might be a little late, but you need to prepare an entrance, to make sure to shock the dancefloor when you get there. The hero always arrives fashionably late anyways

>>4444129
>DJ Sun Tzu once said that "To win one hundred victories in one hundred dance-offs is not the acme of skill. To serve the enemy without dancing is the acme of skill." You might be a little late, but you need to prepare an entrance, to make sure to shock the dancefloor when you get there. The hero always arrives fashionably late anyways.
also look into renting a hovercab for quick eval in case something unexpected happens at the danceoff

>>4444129
>>DJ Sun Tzu once said that "To win one hundred victories in one hundred dance-offs is not the acme of skill. To serve the enemy without dancing is the acme of skill." You might be a little late, but you need to prepare an entrance, to make sure to shock the dancefloor when you get there. The hero always arrives fashionably late anyways.

>>4444129
>You know you need to get over there, but you have a feeling that you should call this number you found. You can't access most of the functions on this communicator because the damn retinal lock is still on it, but if you hurry to a public one you should be able to call it before you go to the competition.

>>4444558
>>4444571
>>4444784
>>4444788
You're gonna compete, but first you have to prepare yourself. Even if you have the spirit (and the midlife crisis), you're not a real dancer. You need to use tactics here. You recall some choice wordx from DJ Sun Tzu, and have Santa hand over his communicator. "I'm gonna look at the place's floor plan. Hail a cab or something." He nods and takes Dasher with him as you look over the venue's floor plan.

There are a few ways to cause a commotion as you enter the dancefloor, but after you see that the place has a skylight, you know what you have to do. Drop in from the roof mid-competition in an explosion of pomp and glory.

Santa comes back, having hailed a cab, and you give him his communicator back. You hop into the cab and it begins floating up into the air after everyone's crammed in. "Where ya'need to go?" "I need glitter... no, no, glitter bombs. And fireworks! Er, light fireworks I guess. Anything that's flashy really. Oh, and I need to stop by an ATM while we're at it."

The cab driver just sagely nods and begins driving. Meanwhile you begin stripping your clothes off in the back and hurriedly changing into your sequin smothered leisure suit. The cab driver is a professional who has flown throughout Munchie for over a century, and just closes his eyes as he drives and spares himself the sight of your nudity. Santa does the same, although he covers Dasher's eyes while he's at it. That poor creature is too innocent for you.

As you don your new outfit, you switch gears. You're not Ronald anymore. You're Mirror, a man who was born and raised in the cradle of disco and funk. After straightening everything out, you put on the finishing touch- the afro. You firmly shove one of the wigs in the disco kit onto your head and then take a deep breath. There's no going back.

A short drive later and the cab arrives at a massive party supplies store. Outside of the store are several stray walruses- in the ten minutes its taken to get here, you've seen that Santa was not at all exaggerating earlier, and that the stray walrus population is in fact a very severe problem here. You tell the cab driver to wait, hurry inside, and withdraw what's left in your bank account. It's not much, but it'll be enough. You buy glitter bombs, smoke bombs, "noise bombs", anything that will create a spectacle when you drop in. Just when you're about out of money and time, you spot the perfect item in the back of the story- temporary anti-gravity generators. You're gonna need those. You grab a handful and then head to the cash register, wad of cash in tow.

50 minutes after leaving the hotel you arrive at a massive convention center, the site of "Munchie's 3083th Annual Boogie Wonderland". At this point you would already be way too late to register, but thankfully by checking online you confirmed that you partner, "Funkarella", has already registered your team. Whether you're still in the qualifiers is another matter entirely.

>>4444926
Knowing something about the rules of the competition you hurry in, get some sort of electronic wristband and an ear piece, and then hurry back out and up a set of exterior stairs. Santa and Dasher, which is now out of the Santa costume and covered in glitter and sequins like some sort of sentient disco monster after 20 minutes of fighting and struggling with it in the cab, follow you.

You're sitting on top of dasher, in front of an open skylight which drops into a massive dancefloor filled with people. Santa is standing next to you with a bag full of everything you bought. "I'll jump down on Dasher, and then you activate and throw down everything we bought. Remember not to forget the anti-grav generators. Or else me and the walrus die. Got it?" Santa nervously nods, and you gently urge Dasher forward. Not having the intelligence to realize what's about to happen, it hesitantly heads through the open skylight.

You crash into the convention hall in an explosion of lights, smoke, glitter, and noise. The music is blaring so loud that you can't hear yourself think in here, but your madness somehow overpowers even that. As you're about to crash to the ground and smash several dancers, the anti-grav generators activate. You quickly slow down to gentle stop, ending your short stint as part of a several-ton kamikaze weapon. The anti-grav generators sputter and die as the two of you land, out of power. The nearby dancers, not immune to the generators, have already been shot several feet into the air.

As the nearby dancers land, you get off of Dasher, your majestic disco steed, and run your hands through your wig. Right now you haven't even danced, but you're the focus of the dancefloor. Time to capitalize on it. "This year's Disco King is here. Now this place is really a Boogie Wonderland!" You strike a pose as you say this, one that you've practiced many times to perfect your disguise. A roar rises up in response to your performance, and you hear "SERVED" echo several times throughout your headset in response to your entrance. After that a pleasant ding can be heard. "TEAM 2396: FUNKARELLA AND MIRROR HAVE EARNED ENOUGH POINTS AND QUALIFIED FOR THE MAIN COMPETITION."

Having achieved your goal of qualifying for the competition, you look around the dancefloor to find your partner. You find a woman who is angry and disheveled to say the least. You are then regaled with a tale of how a woman who was in the Best 32 last year had to fight off a horde of rivals and enemies she'd surpassed two-on-one for twenty minutes straight because her partner never showed up. Well fuck. Cowed by the anger of this funky woman and the insistence that you're a "jive turkey who can't keep a single damn appointment", you continuously apologize. This appeases her anger, and eventually she calms down.

>>4444927
After the qualifiers are over, 512 teams are left. Among the tens of thousands of people from across planet Munchie who are here, that is actually a rather small portion. You're proud of yourself for a moment despite the fact that you haven't even danced yet, but the next announcement leaves you more worried than anything. "The qualifiers are over! Congratulations to those who have entered into the competition! Challenges will be open for half an hour, so if you haven't qualified yet, do your best to replace someone who has!"

Mere seconds after this announcement, a man you vaguely recognize charges towards you. "Bastard! You stole my partner! Let's go!" Your first instinct is to calm the dude down, but Funkarella jumps in before you can. "Fool! He already served your ass with his sick moves back at the hotel- why does he need to do it again now?" The man laughs before pressing a button on a small holographic device in his hand. A complex series of lines pop out of it, but they fade in and out of existence, and you can never catch sight of the whole picture they're projecting. "Hmph- I'm stronger now than before. I was upset at first, wondering what I'd do without a partner, but then I realized- I've already had a partner for a long time. I've moved past flesh and blood women like you Funkarella, now I'll only dance with this 4D woman, my waifu!"

The man stares at you, quietly gloating, as you stare at his "waifu", the set of abstract the lines that are flickering in and out of sight. Is four-dimensional geometry renderable now? Uh, neat. It's a bit too avant-garde for you, but still, good for him you guess. As the two of you awkwardly stare at Funkarella's former partner he realizes that neither of you are as intimidated as he hoped you would be and begins yelling again. "Just because you don't comprehend my genius philosophy doesn't mean you're better! Whether you like it or not I'm here with my waifu as my partner and am challenging you to a dance-off so I can take your place in the competition!" Ah. You almost forgot why he was here. Danceoff. Right.
>1. Alright, you'll take care of this. Time to dance and show this dude what you're made of. Hopefully you're as good at this sober as you were while ridiculously high.
>2. You're not a real dancer, so you should take the tactical path when possible. Convince this dude that 3D women are better than 4D women and destroy his psyche before you face off.
>3. You're not a real dancer, so you should take the tactical path when possible. Convince this dude that 2D women are better than 4D women and destroy his psyche before you face off.
>4. You need to go scope out the competition. Have Funkarella take care of this and then go spy on the rest of the dancers.
[Options 1-3 will all require rolling. 4 will not.]
>Other

>>4444929
>1. Alright, you'll take care of this. Time to dance and show this dude what you're made of. Hopefully you're as good at this sober as you were while ridiculously high.
IF WE HAPPEN TO HAVE IT
JUST ONE MUSHROOM
WE SHOULD TAKE IT

>>4444929
>>1. Alright, you'll take care of this. Time to dance and show this dude what you're made of. Hopefully you're as good at this sober as you were while ridiculously high.

>>4445064
You have about 4-5 that you found in your hotel room. Given that your prior dose was around a dozen mushrooms or more you should be fine taking one or two or a few if you want. Or, well, you won't have any wild blackouts again at least.

Option 1 wins, give me 3d20 in the format you guys prefer, if there are rolls left when I plan to update I'll just roll them myself.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>4445814

Rolled 5 (1d20)

>>4445814

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>4445814

>>4446139
>>4446186
>>4446241
The roll is 13 then, adding in a +1 bonus from consuming one psychedelic space mushroom makes that 14. I'll start writing.
fun fact, that bonus increases linearly
when you stole this dude's partner it was around +12

>>4446277
>when you stole this dude's partner it was around +12
imagine rolling an unnatural 32 for disco
>4
5-dimensional reality-warping dancing

>>4445064
>>4445310
>>4446139
>>4446186
>>4446241
>>4446285
https://youtu.be/51r5f5OdIY0

You already showed this guy before, you can take him on. Time to strut your stuff. "Since you don't have a partner, I'll dance without one too. I'll show you who's boss." He screams something about "disregarding his waifu" at you, but as you approach becomes serious. It's not time for words anymore. It's time to dance.

Your opponent throws off his jacket and as the funky-fresh beats start flowing through your earpiece he starts throwing down. You expect him to strike a pose, wiggle about, do all that stereotypical disco stuff you saw in the movies. Instead he starts breakdancing. Every few seconds he does a standing move, drops to the ground and spins around while doing some stuff you don't understand, and then freezes. It takes a couple cycles of this before you gather your own bearings and start groovin' to the beat.

Unfortunately for you, this man is a semi-professional. If someone were being generous you could be called an amateur with the spirit but not the skill. If they were being rude, they'd just call you a poser. You flail about, full of energy and ambition, but lacking in technique. A few worrying noises come out of your headset as you dance, but you do your best to disregard them.
"Slight disadvantage"
"Dance battle half over"
"Major disadvantage"
"Dance battle two thirds over"
You keep doing your best, but it's not working. Appalled at your seizure-like performance and worried about losing their spot, Funkarella jumps in with some slick moves and saves you. Their moves are closer to the disco stuff you recognize, although mixed in there is some weird thing where they seem to tense up before making a sudden, jerking movement every beat. You're not really sure what it is.

With Funkarella's entrance the 'major disadvantage' quickly converts into a 'crushing advantage' in your favor, and the two of you retain your spot in the competition. Despite the loss Funkarella's old partner has a smug smile on his face and she's shooting you a cold glare. "Ha, you left me for this poser?! Good luck bitch, I'm off to steal a spot from someone who doesn't have a real dancer on their team!" He leaves, laughing his ass off, as you stare at the ground, embarrassed. You may have overestimated yourself.

>>4446316
"Bitch, you just let him serve your ass." "...Am I that bad? Last time we ran into each other I was... uh... high as fuck, yeah. Don't remember it at all." Funkarella just sighs and gestures for you to follow her. "Yes you jive turkey, you are that bad. Was hoping with someone on my level so that I could scrape into the Top 8 this year, but your shit is only good enough for the posers who get knocked out in the second or third round." She shuts down at this point, and you can only hear her muttering "Lying jive turkey-ass bitch" and similar insults under her breath until you arrive at your destination.

Your destination is where she figures no one will be able to find you for a challenge while still being inside the venue- a set of dusty vending machines hidden behind a "maintenance only" door. Funkarella tells you to "get a drink and sit your ass down" while she warms up. Apparently she's still going to try her best, even if you're dragging her down.
>1. Ask her to help show you some basics at least. You might be a poser but you got the spirit if nothing else, you can try and learn a little in the 50... 49 minutes before the first round starts.
>2. You were good at this while you were high, right? May as well take what you have left... [Take some of the four mushrooms you have left. Adds a +1 bonus to your dancing per mushroom for the duration of your high. May have side effects. May prevent you from taking other, more mentally intensive, options. Both of these effects depend on the quantity taken.]
>3. Wander off when Funkella's not looking and observe the competition. See how they dance, see what throws them off. Maybe find a chance to make a scene and build up your image before it inevitably comes crashing down later. It'll be trouble if someone challenges you, but, uh, you're smart. You can handle it.
>4. Just get your communicator back and call the turtle, you need to know where your ride out of here is.
>5. Get your communicator back and call that ID you found, no idea who it is but you feel like it's important somehow.
>Write-in

>>4446319
>1. Ask her to help show you some basics at least. You might be a poser but you got the spirit if nothing else, you can try and learn a little in the 50... 49 minutes before the first round starts.

>>4446319
>1. Ask her to help show you some basics at least. You might be a poser but you got the spirit if nothing else, you can try and learn a little in the 50... 49 minutes before the first round starts.

Gonna aim for 2-3 updates a day for the next couple of days starting tomorrow afternoon, took care of a lot of lectures and stuff today.
Ideally that should get us through this arc and back to the main plot so that we can call the thread there and finish that up in the second and last thread.

>>4446319
>1. Ask her to help show you some basics at least. You might be a poser but you got the spirit if nothing else, you can try and learn a little in the 50... 49 minutes before the first round starts.

>>4446319
>4. Just get your communicator back and call the turtle, you need to know where your ride out of here is.

This quest is like an adult swim cartoon. Unironic comedy quests are rare. You are filling a very under served(pun intended) niche OP.

>>4446329
>>4446751
>>4447642
>>4447955
Alright, you're on one hell of a time crunch but you must be able to learn something before the competition starts. "Funkarella, mind teaching me? I'm bad at this but I'm willing to try." Funkarella stops moving and stares at you for a moment before shrugging. "Eh. Guess it's easier to make you better before the first round than it is for me to get better. Now shut up and pay attention."

You excitedly ask Funkarella if you're going to be taught some sick moves like that breakdancing earlier, and she just laughs at you. "Bboys ain't fit for this competition, that's why I replaced him. Plus, you'd just fuck it up anyways. Stick with your cheesy disco shit, that's alright here. I'm just gonna show you how to follow the rhythm. In stuff like disco and funk it goes one and TWO and three and FOUR, you get it? Listen to the music, insert your big moves on the even beats instead of just flailing about. Hell, there'll usually even be a snare or something to help you. Once you got that down your dumb ass will be able to serve a fool or two."

The next 45 minutes you're told to "hit" the air with your arm to show what you think is the proper timing. Most of the next 45 minutes are also spent being yelled at because you're being told you're too fast. At one point you're told that "if the music was a woman you'd be a premature ejaculator, so just slow the fuck down". That seemed to help and near the end of the practice you're actually getting closer to the ideal timing.
>+2 bonus added to dancing rolls for skill

"Alright numbnuts, do your best and groove a little. Knew I couldn't win but was hoping for some grass for being in the Top 8." Hoping to both reassure Funkarella and reduce the intense anger she holds for you under the surface, you say some nice words which you only partially believe. "Don't be too depressed about it. I'm sure you can win next year." Oh, she's looking at you like you're even stupider than before. Was that too far? "Er, my bad, my tongue slipped. You might never be good enough to get Top 8 but I'm sure you won't get worse at this, right?"

She seems even angrier than before. Oh dear. You're convinced she's going to punch you for a moment, but after a few tense seconds she just shakes her head. "Goddamn, I liked you way better when you were high. Just shut up and dance with me, you're never gonna recover from that." You follow her to the dancefloor as she talks to you. Or to thin air- you think it's directed to you, but for some reason she refuses to address you directly. "Reason I can't win is because of that damn Disco Mafia. They have members in Boogie Wonderland, the hottest groove spot in the galaxy, and they'd never let fools like us usurp them. So the first prize is really just for show- the second prize is for the public."

>>4448516
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pG8TyIEAqps
Funkarella, still refusing to address you directly, just says that it's lucky her partner never actually danced during the qualifiers as they're "seeded" in 31st now and shouldn't face anyone tough until the free-for-all stage. She then very loudly hopes that "the poser next to her with two left feet doesn't ruin more than he already has". You nervously shake your head. There is no response.

The first round of the competition is a real confidence booster. It turns out, that while you are not qualified for you current partner, you are qualified to compete. Using your boundless disco spirit, solid rhythm, and a dash of psychedelics, you defeat your opponent. Meanwhile Funkarella causes her opponent to have a nervous breakdown and reconsider the nature of dance itself.
>[11, 12] vs. [13+1+2, 27] = VICTORY

The second round is similarly easy, and you're able to take the chance to build up your confidence and get more used to the stuff that Funkarella taught you. You feel like you're getting better at it. While dancing you noticed that some of the other people were incorporating pauses to the music in order to emphasize the moves they do make, and that's even less effort, so you start doing that too. That leads to a quick victory and a funkier you.
>[13, 15] vs. [13+1+3, 27] = VICTORY

The next round is where you begin to realize once more that you are not a funky fresh disco master and that there are just short of a hundred people here who can serve your ass even after you've improved. Fortunately you have an over-qualified partner, and what would be a hard-bought battle between four evenly match disco demons turns into a traumatizing event for them.
>[17, 18] vs. [13+1+3, 27] = VICTORY

Now you're in the Best of 64, something that you can and will brag about in the future without context. After this round will be the free-for-all. But you're worried. You have no idea what maniacs will show up on the dancefloor next and how you'll affect the judging. You feel like you need to catch up, and quick.
>1. You've been ignoring them so far, but time to pull out some tricks from DJ Sun Zhu's book- tactics time. Some of these tactics would probably seem "dishonorable" to others but fuck it, they work!
>2. TIME TO SUMMON DASHER, YOUR DISCO STEED! The two of you will slide across the floor, a fearsome combination of man and beast, your grooving causing the dancefloor to quite literally explode.
>3. You are clearly not high enough for this. You need to be high enough for this. [Consume between 1 and 4 more mushrooms. Side-effects may ensue.]
>4. Get Santa over here and tell him to punch your opponents in the face next round. It's a simple and easy way to win, although you may turn this disco inferno into a ballroom blitz...
>Write-in

>>4448522
>3. You are clearly not high enough for this. You need to be high enough for this. [Consume between 1 and 4 more mushrooms. Side-effects may ensue.]
Fuck it. All of them.

>>4447955
Yeah, in hindsight it is kind of rare, most stuff in this vein is intentionally shitposty. Er, more shitposty.
It'd probably go better if I were actually funny but hey, I'm having fun and hopefully everybody else is too.
>>4449183
You're not high enough for this. Not at all. Desperate to do well and knowing that you only have one reliable option, you shove the mushrooms you have left into your mouth and quickly swallow. Maybe it's because of what happened before, but the high seems to come much faster than before. Random flashes of color lights up the room and the music seems to come from within you instead of from the speakers surrounding you. Fuck yeah. You got this.

As the next round starts you block everything out. All that exists is you and the dancefloor. You are the music, and the dancefloor is a canvas. You paint along that canvas, spreading a picture of happiness. You're not sure what you're actually doing, but at some point you win and Funkarella seems pleased, so it was probably alright.
>[20, 20] vs. [13+5+3, 27] = VICTORY

Before the free-for-all round starts you feel hungry, so you start digging through everything you brought with you. Unfortunately your attempts to gnaw at Dasher yield nothing but the deep, bassy grumbles of the walrus and a handful of sequins in your mouth. While searching through all your shit you do find that little ball from before with "Evacuate the dancefloor" on the side though. You keep it, thinking it might be useful. Plus, somewhere in the back of your mind you think it might be edible. Like, it looks metallic, but what if it's not? What if it's, like, one of those kinder egg things except with, like, food inside? You'd be stoked if that were the case. You're not willing to act on that idea yet though.

As you contemplate whether you can eat various items and creatures throughout the room, you suddenly hear some music. Not the stuff playing inside of you, but, like, actual music. That means it's time. It's time to settle all of this and decide who's the Disco King in a 32-team battle royale. Winner takes all!

File: 46c88d5d545d7bd2bd42227d2(...).gif (3.75 MB, 275x206)

3.75 MB GIF

>>4449334
https://youtu.be/god7hAPv8f0
You miss most of the big speech about the honor of disco and whatever the fuck else they're talking about, but you do get the important part. Ratings will be tracked live based on audience and judge reactions, and every loop of Boogie Wonderland the bottom half of those competing will be removed. There's some other shit, but that's the main point. Once the dude finally starts talking you wrench your heads away from the thought of food and focus it back on disco. The music assimilates within you and you start spreading your art throughout the dancefloor once again.

Flashes of light fill your vision and good vibes flow throughout you. Fuck, those shrooms were strong. You don't regret it though. You feel great. You just want to dance- ooh ooh dance- ooh ooh dance. As you move about you sink into the music and then you feel it- the source of the groove. There's a little bit from the speakers, a little bit from the disco balls, and a good bit from everybody around you. There's even a little bit coming from you, intensifying every big move you make. But then there's a few massive monoliths of groove near the center of the room. They impress you. In the center of them there's what feels like a groove monster, a being of such pure groovy madness that it terrifies you. Examining it is like plunging your body straight into a red-hot disco inferno. After a moment you instinctively avert your eyes from it, shrug off the fear from before, and fall back into your dancing.
>[25, 27] vs. [13+5+3, 27] = FAILURE

Despite your best attempts to dance (ooh ooh dance), you're not doing too hot. The song is almost over and you're in 18th. But you're not ready to lose. You grit your teeth and look at the thing you found in your "disco kit". Time to evacuate the dancefloor. You press the red button on the odd ball and then feel a massive wave of energy surge through you. It doesn't seem to harm you, but as it spreads outward, the effects it has on everyone else are completely different.

File: 1525532701158.gif (1.47 MB, 387x388)

1.47 MB GIF

>>4449336
Within a second an explosive sound comes from the ball and spreads throughout the building. Everyone besides you and four other people are immediately knocked down. The speakers explode, but for some reason the music is still playing. People begin getting off the ground. They start dancing.

There's definitely something wrong here, but in your current state you don't notice. You start dancing again. The energy from the ball seems to flow into you and add a sharp edge to your moves, cutting apart and dominating all the other sources of groove around you. You start getting into it, but then suddenly the massive source of groove from earlier charges towards you. You're knocked out of your rhythm and focus your attention on the dancefloor again. A massive man with a three-tiered afro and the shiniest leisure suit you've ever seen is boogie-ing towards you. And he doesn't seem happy.

Finally snapping out of the overlapping of two highs for a moment, you look around. Almost everyone is dancing. Not like before though- most of them have their eyes closed and are just doing whatever comes before. No deliberate, thought-out moves or memorized patterns. Oh no. What remains is just feral, untapped disco energy. Three people are slowly moving around the building, veins bulging out and a strained expression on their face. They're desperately screaming, but no one is listening. "Everybody in the club- evacuate the dancefloor! You're infected by the sound! This beat is killing you!" You don't really get it through everything you're on, but they seem worried.

As you examine the building, the man from before finally reaches a distance where you can easily hear him. He seems to be exerting more effort than before to get close to you. "What the hell does your bitch ass think he's doing activating a super weapon like that in the middle of a bunch of civilians?! If it's Disco Mafia business then we need to take it out back. People are gonna get hurt."

Hurt? That's not good. But you're really into this though. It can't be that bad, can it?
>1. Uh, out back, sure. As long as you can dance you feel like nothing really matters right now.
>2. Out back? Hell no. If he wants you to leave he can make you. You're gonna boogie down tonight and nobody's gonna get in the way of that.
>3. The problem is with the ball thing, right? You're still really hungry and the more this high sinks in the worse it gets. May as well just eat it and fix everything.
>Write-in

>>4449338
>2. Out back? Hell no. If he wants you to leave he can make you. You're gonna boogie down tonight and nobody's gonna get in the way of that.

>>4449338
>3. The problem is with the ball thing, right? You're still really hungry and the more this high sinks in the worse it gets. May as well just eat it and fix everything.
The food thing will save us
Hey, the food thing! Can we uh, do something with that? Give us our calories back?

>>4449815
You're feeling kind of fuzzy on how to use it right now, but you might be able to try injecting some calories with it while you're doing stuff. You're sure nothing could go wrong.

Will probably roll a die to tiebreak in ~5 hours if there's not another vote by then. Depends on when I go to sleep.

>>4449338
>3. The problem is with the ball thing, right? You're still really hungry and the more this high sinks in the worse it gets. May as well just eat it and fix everything.

Just eat it! Eat it! If it's gotten cold reheat it.

>>4449807
>>4449815
>>4450399
The longer you look at this thing the more you think it might be edible. Triple Afro over here wants it gone too, so now you're struggling to find a reason not to eat it. You throw a few glances between him and the ball before forcefully shoving it down your mouth. By some miracle you don't choke, and after a short struggle to manage to swallow the ball. You feel weird now. After thinking that you feel yourself falling, and begin to black out. As you do, you can faintly hear the man from before yelling. "What the fu-"

For a long time it feels like you're nowhere. One year. Three years. A decade. All that time it's just you, yourself, and a whole lot of nothing. You can't feel your body, and you can't really see anything. You just kind of sense it. You're surrounded by colorful lights, and music, and a warm blanket of feelings. And the groove. Oh god is there a lot of groove- it's like everything is permeated it. For a long time you just think, and study what little surrounds you. Eventually you start absorbing everything surrounding you- the lights, the music, the vague "groove", and then things seem to clear up. You start to awaken.

When you can finally see things again instead of just feel them, you find yourself in some confusing place that gives you a headache. The shapes of everything are incomprehensible, and you don't understand what you're looking at. As you sit there, freaking out and trying to cope with your new stimulus after what feels like a decade of nothing, one of the shapes moves. You hesitantly back away as it speaks.

"Apparently you know my boyfriend, Xavier, so I came to great you. Welcome to the fourth dimension." Xavier, wait... was that the name of Funkarella's old partner? You feel like it was. What the fuck. "The fourth dimension is real... his waifu bullshit is real?!" "Yep. It's all real and due to some... interesting energies you ingested, you're gonna be here for a while. Wanna look around?"

"Look around? But I can't even process anything? This is all hurting my brain." "Makes sense I guess. For me it feels like I'm staring at some drawing that pops out a little. Right now you're in a space in between our dimensions, so I guess you don't understand it all yet. Still, you can look around the third dimension pretty easily from here. Kind of like how you'd examine a snow globe. Wanna take a trip?"

>>4450605
Ok, while you can't understand any of... this... the chance for a free trip is something you won't turn down. As long as you don't have to use that damn turtle's trauma wormhole again. "What about Earth then? Haven't seen that place in 40,000 years. Would be nice to take a look." The shape in front of you wobbles a little. You think it's nodding. "Sure. Grab on." You hesitantly grab one of the many pulsating lines of the shape and then feel your body almost tearing apart as the scenery changes drastically. A moment later half of your vision is filled with the crazy fourth-dimensional shapes, while the other half is filled with a view of Earth. Or what used to be Earth.

The familiar blue and green orb from your memories is gone. Now the Earth's surface is covered in an endless, thousands of miles high cityscape, making the planet bigger than it originally was. At the highest point of the planet is a giant neon sign, hundreds and hundreds of miles wide. It says "King Headquarters". This sign angers you. You don't know if it's their fault that Earth got this way, but you don't give a shit. You're high, confused, angry, and nostalgic. Plus, you didn't like those annoying fucks in the first place. You turn towards the shape that took you here, which is just... staring at you? You think?
>1. "I don't want to look at this anymore. Take me back." You're mad, but it's more important to get home. This madness is too weird for you.
>2. "I hate these dudes. Take me in there." If they injure one of yours then you'll send one of theirs to the morgue! If they think they can cut off supplies to the trade port without consequences then they're stupid. You're gonna wreck their headquarters.
>3. One specific part of this godforsaken place arouses a deep, unquenchable fury within you and you're not sure why. Have this... woman shape(?)... take you there so you can investigate. You want to know why you feel this way.
>Write-in

>>4450607
>3. One specific part of this godforsaken place arouses a deep, unquenchable fury within you and you're not sure why. Have this... woman shape(?)... take you there so you can investigate. You want to know why you feel this way.

Time to uncover our mysterious past.

>>4450607
3. Let’s find out.

>>4450607
>3. One specific part of this godforsaken place arouses a deep, unquenchable fury within you and you're not sure why. Have this... woman shape(?)... take you there so you can investigate. You want to know why you feel this way.

>>4450917
>>4450850
Cool, I'll start writing in a couple hours after my upcoming afternoon lecture is over.
unless I fall asleep during/immediately after it, which is more likely than i'd like to admit

>>4450850
>>4450917
This entire dystopian clusterfuck is pissing you off, but you can vaguely feel that an odd rage is rising up inside you due to something inside this place. A rage that's not your own- it's like it's part of another person inside of you, or something instinctual. You want to figure out why this is happening. You point towards the general direction that sets you off and tell your fourth-dimensional guide to go there.

After a moment you pop into existence inside a large common room where a few people are lazing about and chatting. They don't seem to notice you in your three and a half dimensional state. That's a relief. Without having to worry about stealth you get deeper and deeper into the section of "Earth" owned by King, feeling the source of your anger growing closer and closer. After a few dozen jumps through the fourth-dimension, you find the source of your 'rage' from before. You are horrified.

Underneath King headquarters there is a massive series of rooms filled with cryosleep chambers. These rooms are heavily secured and kept at below freezing temperatures. Inside the nearly endless rows of cyrosleep chambers are massive numbers of people. Unlike most people who are cryogenically frozen, they aren't in the middle of a long trip or waiting for a cure to their illness. They're dead. Every single one of them. They also have one other feature in common- at some point they used to be McSpacies employees. Many of them are still in uniform.

You are currently in one of the many rooms full of cryosleep chambers. Your mouth is hanging open in shock. You are angry. You are scared. You don't get how something like this could exist. You don't know why something so horrible would exist. Without you noticing a large portion of the energy remaining from the weapon you ate is gathering together, focusing into a single point in your hand. This is the energy that propelled you to the fourth dimension, and when spread out like before it wasn't harmless, but it wasn't necessarily dangerous. Focused in one tiny point, it is extremely dangerous.

>>4451804
As the energy builds up, you suddenly hear a sickly voice, like nails on chalkboard, appear in the back of your mind. "Interesting..." You freeze up and a wrinkled old man in a suit and cape appears in front of you. He gives off an aura of rot, and you almost feel like you're going to die if you get too close to him. He looks you up and down for a moment with cold eyes, before sticking a hand out. He speaks quickly, and in an extremely fake, saccharine sweet voice. "My name is Count Arby, restaurateur, salesman, and servant of Lucifer, our reluctant safeguard of evil and entropy! Pleased to make your acquaintance! Here's my card."

A business card appears in your hand with no explanation. You reluctantly glance at it. Pictured is a much more youthful version of the... person... in front of you. There's a lot of text crammed onto the card, but a motto printed in big red letters stands out: "Buying and selling souls since 1529!" While you stare at the business card, Count Arby launches into a sales pitch. "So, what do you need? Cooking skill? Commercial success? Revenge for your clansmen? Prices vary, but the currency always stays the same- souls, souls, and more souls! As long as you sell your soul, and maybe promise one or two hundred thousand more, I can get you anything you need! So, what can I sell you?"

You're not sure if this dude is just some fourth-dimensional entity fucking with you, if he is some supernatural entity, or if this is just all part of some weird trip you're on, but you instinctively don't like him. You shake your head and move away. He follows, and continues talking to you like a fly buzzing in your ear. You do your best to ignore him and examine the cryogenic freezers around you. At first glance everyone inside them appears to be dead, but some of them are still breathing, if only lightly. But for some reason it feels... unnatural. You should be happy they're alive, but for some reason you don't like it at all. It's all almost worse than before. The energy within your hand continues building up- at this point 90% of the energy left from the weapon is focused there.

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170 KB PNG

>>4451807
At this point, a few alarms finally go off and men with that same horrible face that Burger King Rayleigh had when he was possessed start to storm the room. They glance around, probably looking for an intruder, but aren't able to spot you or Count Arby, who is still harassing you. That gives you some hope that he's just some sort of hallucination, although all of this feels way too real.

As you watch an increasingly-large group of soldiers dash about the area, they're suddenly joined by someone who's dressed the same as Burger King Rayleigh was- one of the Burger Kings. The only major difference in their appearances is that while Rayleigh had two jewels in his crown, this one has nine. His face, frozen, scans the room for a moment before focusing on your location. "So we didn't finish the job. Show yourself, mutt of the McRonald clan. I don't know how you got in here, but you're surrounded. There will be no escape for you. Not against The King."

You'd be somewhat intimidated by The King's speech if it weren't for the whole fourth-dimension thing. As it is, you're just annoyed by him. And angered. In comparison to what you feel staring at this smug bastard, you were barely riled up by this horrifying room. As you stare at his stupid face, your hand suddenly feels burning hot. Only now that it's almost out of control do you notice the massive amount of energy that was building up. You need to send it somewhere, and fast, or it'll just blow up in your hand.
>1. You have no idea what the fuck these guys have done, but whatever it is it's part of some grudge that you can't just forget about. Show that smug big-crowned bastard what's what and shoot the energy towards him. This galaxy isn't big enough for the two of you.
>2. You hate this dude, but whatever this room is it's unforgivable. You're not sure why it exists (although with the possession thing you have a hunch), but it needs to go. Let the energy explode outwards and blow up as much of the area as possible. You need to let your former coworkers rest in peace.
>3. You really hate King, but this Count Arby bastard seems to be involved with all this. Plus, with his prolonged sales pitch, he's directly in your line of fire. Hallucination or not, time to make the universe have one less annoying salesman.
>Write-in
sorry for the delay, fell asleep for a solid eight hours and then had to do stuff

1. Blast him to smithereens.

>>4451816
>2. You hate this dude, but whatever this room is it's unforgivable. You're not sure why it exists (although with the possession thing you have a hunch), but it needs to go. Let the energy explode outwards and blow up as much of the area as possible. You need to let your former coworkers rest in peace.

I get the feeling that King made a deal with Arby for dominance of the fast food market and somehow rounded up the McSpacies workforce so he could us their souls for currency. I reckon granting our former co-workers the peace of death will also sap King's power.

I wonder where the Colonel is in all this?