Join our Testing Team

Dakosan post_id=2659 time=1491873411 user_id=1755 said:
GAH, my wallet is gone and my tongue tastes like an wet boot..

Flagwaver looks up from his coffee and smirks. "Sounds like a normal morning when I was on leave in the Army." He takes another sip and swipes his cred-card across the reader to deposit a 5-cred tip to the bartender for good thick coffee.

*Whiiiiiiirrrr* X-307 turns to face the hungover guest

*Shick Shick* X-307's metal eyelids blink in an innocent, but faintly confused manner.

Whiskey is a ...dzzzrt..distilled spirit made of malted grain, especially barley or rye, and comprised ..tzzrt.. of hundreds of complex compounds including phenols, aldehydes, esters, and...ddrrrrrzzztt... whiskey lactones such as the common trans-3-methyl-4-octanolide.

He then proceeds to pull a bottle from the lowest shelf, before presenting it label forward

..tchhzt.. We add nothing, friend.

X-307 turns towards Eulb, and begins to *clank* *clunk*
*clank* over to the new bottle.

X-307 is an old model. Unlike the newer, androgynous 9000 series which are designed to appeal broadly to any race or sex of customer through the vastness of known space, the 3000s we're manufactured in decidely humanoid male and female models, designated X and Y.

Good ...bzzZzz... day, friend!

A faulty speech synthesizer is the least of X-307's deficiencies. Six generations of service and cobbled repairs has resulted in a rather humble looking automaton with uncoordinated motor functions and a trailing cacophony of mechanical noises. An old, but well kept, black bowler hat and matching satin bow tie provide a refined, old world finish to the rusty ensemble. Only through the nostalgic doting of the ship's chief of engineering, has X-307 avoided decommission.

*Whiiiiiirrrrrrrrr* turning to face the heroes at the bar

Evening friends...Bzzzt... It's the official polic..y..y..yyyy... of the Starboard Lounge, it's employees, and automatons, to deny any incident ...tchhhzzzt... involving non-liquid spirits or supernatural attacks upon it's ...Zzzzrrrkk.. our guests.

Can I ser...vvvvffft.. serve you an alcoholic beverage?

Flagwaver walks into the lounge groggily. He walks up to the bar and grumbles something. You aren't sure, but it could be cookie, possibly coffee. The bar-tending droid pours a muddy black substance that looks like steaming tar. He takes a sip and consciousness returns to his zombie-like visage.

The now alive veteran looks at GladDog and nods. He them pulls a bottle out from behind the bar and sets it on the polished top.

"Bow," he says pointing at the top of the bottle. "Stern," he says pointing at the bottom of the bottle. "Where port, 'n starboard."

You can tell that the coffee hasn't quite revived all of his brain, but enough to get his point across.

Eulb post_id=2541 time=1491624323 user_id=1424 said:
seeing the confusing looks on all the patrons faces as i leave the the starboard lounge. I shake my head and say to my self " self they need more spirits "

"We already had that problem and I don't want to see them back," Flagwaver says from the bar. "Thankfully, one of the waitresses new a guy who knew a shaman to exorcise them. Oh, and don't try hitting on her, she packs a mean punch with that bionic arm of hers."

The problem is that the bow is straight up and the stern is straight down. In which case, the port and starboard would be unknownable without knowing the physical top and bottom of the ship in transit.

I would love to see the "Pocket D" type club be called the Starboard Lounge and be located in the middle of the ship somewhere.