Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post descriptions of your brilliant victories and unfortunate defeats here.

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lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by lancer »



Image




Grinding my teeth, choking on my revulsion, I begrudgingly stand in front of the VidCam and compose a diplomatic missive to the Icky Apes. Zorg intently watching my every utterance.

Offer the Monkey Men a trade agreement. Barely manage to refrain from asking if their nose functions as a multi-purpose orifice, ‘cause it sure looks like it.

Send it off. Wait several months. Icky Apes still have an explorer in the Dispayri System so communication exchanges are relatively fast.

Zorg turns up to view their reply. Big event. All kinds of hangers-on poised on the edge of their seats waiting to see how the Monkey Men reacted to our friendly overtures.

Just to be on the safe side I’ve kept my foot down on the war machine. By now it should be ramping up to a decent hum.

Icky Apes ambassador in life-sized HoloVid. How do they manage that? Superior technology.

Difficult to place the expression on his face. Keep thinking I’m going to have to duck if he suffers an involuntary bowel movement out of his crazy honker.

He speaks. Zorg sucks in his breath. No go on the trade deal. Monkey Men have as many fancy new Vidplasmas as they need. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.

Shucks. Ain’t that a shame. Better fire up the Phasors.

No, no, NO! shouts Zorg, red with rage. ‘Negotiate with them! Talk to them. Do a deal.’

Isn’t that what I’ve just done? Apes said no. General Huss and the Second Fleet will be in position soon. Let loose the dogs of war.

Zorg failing to grasp the big picture.

Insisting I ‘grease their palms’. Dark, dirty looks clearly stating what is left unsaid. Snaps his fingers. Diplomatic Team enter with VidCam, ready to record.

With a herculean effort, I suppress my own demonic urges and man up to the challenge. Putting on my grimmest smile, I make the magnanimous gift of sixty credits to the pucker-faced primates. Suggest that they may want to revisit the Trade Agreement in light of our benevolence.

Sixty credits might just do it for a cheap nose job at a back-alley chop shop here on Zion. Knock yourself out.


* * *


Icky Apes aren’t going to give us a trade Agreement. Not interested in dealing with somebody whom they are about to attack.

But Zorg won’t let it go. He’ll keep pushing the Trade barrow until he rolls it straight off the edge of the precipice. Zorg, for all of his wicked, Machiavellian ways, has no concept of true evil. Nor of destiny.

What he needs is a reminder.

A small memory jogger of the imminent danger that the Icky Apes present to his Merchant Monopoly. Can’t make money if you’re dead, can you?

So say a big hello to the Leech. A man with a cutlass, no morals and sporting a brain that emanates more bad radiation than a throbbing, out of control, giant Pulsar.




Image




General Huss and the Second Fleet accidently found the Leech in a life support pod. Drifting through the void. All alone. Dying a slow death from oxygen starvation.

Apparently an ‘advisor’ to the Ardaluun Gangsters. Telling the big-toothed T-Rex’s how to make it as a pirate.

Lost his job once their base was deep sixed by General Huss. Miracle he wasn’t immediately put to death by the good General upon discovery of his pod. A traitorous human willingly aiding and abetting reptiles has no right to a new life.

I suspect that the only reason he was kept alive was for purposes of creative entertainment for our sadistic, dwarf-sized Commander.

Threw him into the brig and, in his typical absentminded manner, forgot about him.

Son of Igor heard snippets of this and that on intercepted comms from the Second Fleet. Put two and two together and brought it to my attention.

Immediately sent a secret communiqué to the Emperor’s representative onboard the flagship. Every significant naval vessel has one of these. Undercover, of course.

Given extra pay and special privileges back home on Zion. Recycled secretaries actually. Zorg gives the girls to me and once I’ve finished the paperwork I parcel them off to the rep’s as trusty ‘companions’.

System working well. Nobody from Fleet HQ suspects anything. Even General Huss is ignorant of a fifth column aboard his flagship.

Given that the Toads managed to explosively terminate my interest in all things paperwork I can afford to be more generous with my Secretaries. In fact I’m sending them all off, bar a couple, to await the rep’s return.

Downside of having secretaries is that Zorg knows everything that I do. Wasn’t a problem before but now that our relationship has become more adversarial I need to close down his information pipeline. Throttle it back and feed it carefully crafted morsels of misinformation.

By now the Emperor’s representative on the Second Fleet’s flagship will have received my secret message and hopefully Captain Crazy, a-la ‘The Leech’, will be heading to the outer reaches of the Dispayri System in a beat-up old Escort with a small automated robo-crew.

Instructed to blow up as many of Zorg’s freighters as he can find. Act as if he is an Icky Ape.

Allowed to have as much fun as he wants. Right up until the self-destruct timer reaches zero.

Doesn’t know about that. Can’t be trusted to keep a secret. Unstable. Unhinged. At least he will die happy.

Can’t have Zorg realising anything other than the threat posed to his Mercantile ways by the assumed Monkey Men. Should be enough to shake him out of his profit-obsessed stupor.

Son of Igor handling all communications. Fully encrypted. The Emperors’ Rep in question earmarked for a priority sticky ending just as soon as he returns to Zion.

Trademark Emperor Fred move, that one. Always clean up after yourself. Never leave the garbage lying around where somebody may stumble over it.

Neat and tidy, that’s the secret.




To be continued...

Lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by Shark7 »

60 credits?! No wonder they want to go to war, that's insulting. Hahahaha! [:D]
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by J HG T »

Just had time to read this whole thing and my feelings are...

Image

Now I really need to make my own AAR once I get my DW back to the speed (Stupid "out of memory" bug).
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by 2guncohen »

Loved the new twist. [:)]

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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by lancer »



Image




I could moonlight as a fortune teller. Got the touch.

Icky Apes declined our further offer of a trade agreement, as expected. Zorg having second thoughts in light of recent reports of several missing freighters on the FredTopia – Zion run. No surprise there.

Still pushing the path of peaceful cooperation but not as confidently as before. A measure of uncertainty has crept into his steely, stern-eyed visage.

The Leech, having performed his assigned function, should, by now, be well on his way to the after world. R.I.P one first class ratbag. Traitor to his own species.

Everything on schedule, everything as predicted.

The Imperial Third Fleet is currently assembling around Zion Space Port. Four new Destroyers, a complicated Cruiser resurrected from the sand dunes around Conson and the Empires first ever Troop Carrier.

The Third Fleet is the mailed fist of humanity. Second Fleet, under General Huss, being the strong left jab.

Lacking a suitably senior naval officer to take command of our most important military assets I am seriously considering assuming the role myself.

Who better to than the Emperor to take the fight to the enemy? With my extensive space-going experience and proven command qualities I am the natural choice.

My urge to sail off and splat the Apes is tempered by the realisation that a prolonged absence may not be a wise move given my precarious perch on the pointy end of power.

Perhaps. Might not be so. General Huss will be with me and effectively not in a position to launch a military coup from the deck of a spaceship. Besides, most of his Zion-based battalions will be hunkered down in the Troop Carrier within my Third Fleet command.

Admiral Wanda is M.I.A, the High Council are in hiding and the Toads contained. That only leaves Zorg.

Zorg unlikely to topple an Emperor. More of a backroom operator. Happy while-ever he is making money. Perhaps if I offer him exclusive ownership of all captured Icky Ape freighters and bases?

Would that swing it? Maybe.

If I threw in monopoly access to all new luxury resources currently owned by the Monkey Men then I’m reasonably certain that he would be prepared to countenance a war. A short, sharp war with a clearly defined end point.

Which would, naturally, be the total extermination of all Icky Apes. De-Primate the galaxy.

Not that I’d tell Zorg this. Keep it simple. Capture a few key colonies with luxury resources then negotiate a profitable truce with the Monkey Men. Peace and goodwill to all thereafter.

Blow that kind of smoke up Zorg’s nose and he can sleep at night. A well rested Zorg is a happy Zorg.

Total nonsense of course. Apes that want to swing from tree to tree are fine by me. Space going Apes that have delusions of grandeur are an aberration. A ugly blot on the natural way of things. I see it as my evolutionary duty to drop kick the b*stards back to banana land.

Just to be on the safe side, Zorg wise, I authorise the hiring and training of a spy. James Wong. Master of the Ninja spreadsheet. Ostensively to maintain a counter-intelligence capability here on Zion but in reality to dig up some serious dirt on Zorg.

Bloody expensive. Five thousand Credits! I could purchase a fully manned Destroyer for that kind of money.

James Wong, I’m told, knows more about corporate intrigue than most. Freelancer. Hacker. Dirty deeds done dirt cheap.

Cheap being a relative concept with Mr Wong. Not only has he stiffed me five K up front but he demands a hefty annual retainer.

Son of Igor assures me he is the man we need but I’ll be keeping a close watching brief on the world’s most expensive Ninja accountant.

Could have hired any of a half a dozen other, traditional, root and shoot spies but none of them would have lasted five minutes in the ring with Zorg and the heavy hitting security halo that permanently surrounds him.

No, Mr Wong and his specialised analytical skills is just what I’m after. Hope he is up to the job.

Results. I’ll be wanting to see results. Personnel dossier states he has a competence rating of 115. Is five a lucky number for the Chinese? Can’t remember.

Normally the Prime Minister would deal with intelligence matters but as all that remains of our PM is a fading remnant blood stain on the floor I have stepped up to the plate. James Wong, Super Spy, will report directly to Son of Igor in my absence.

Plan to depart within the fortnight. As soon as Third Fleet is assembled and troops embarked.

Lots of administrative odds and ends to deal with before I go.

New colony started way down in the Omgal System. Good oh. Empire spreading its wings. Omgal more of a claw. Or talon scything down towards the galactic core.




Image





One of Second Fleet’s Destroyers immobilized in deep space as a result of damage sustained in wiping out the Adarluun Gangsters. Had to pull the Empires main constructor, ‘Bob the Builder’, of a mining base worksite and zing it off to rescue the wayward navvies. Minister for Industry lodged a protest.

Research. We are going to war. We need bigger and better weapons.

Fuzzball, the Minister for Science, finally turns up to explain all the wonderful advancements that have occurred in the several years since we last spoke.

Lot of techno-speak and assorted like-minded nerd-babble. Fuzzball not used to explaining himself. Doesn’t he realise who I am?

The gist of his demented ramblings are that we have managed to research three fifths of bugger all and that we are still destined to discover many wonderful breakthroughs in advanced storage.

Instead of weapons we are on track to have bigger and better boxes.

Fuzzball gesticulating all over the shop. Trying to explain the importance of fancy new industrial boxes. Linking it to quantum physics and quarks and all manner of head-up-the-*ss nonsense.




Image





Do I have the guards take him out the back? Who would I put in his place? I haven’t got time for all this brain-bending techno stuff.

Pushed for time, I reluctantly resist the urge to dispose of the Fuzzball and settle on telling him to forget about boxes and keep researching weapons. Make a mental note to review matters when I get back.

Important not to get distracted. Focus on the big stuff.

The Great Ape War is about to begin.





To be continued...

Lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by 2guncohen »

So we got, death pirate T-rex'ses, Erradicated Toads , A Female Oriented planet who is getting subjugated. , A Former-Independent Human world who claimed to be the center of the sector who is now also brutatly subjugated. A puppet Governement and now Monekys who will get crisped.

lancer [:D] I like your style!!!

But should the emperor not consider offspring or a new AAR but from the view of a citizen of this "marvelous" empire ? [:D] Who chooses to rebel ?

Greets 2gun






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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by Seraphim_slith »

Highly entertaining update as always. Keep up the great work lancer. ,-)
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thiosk
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by thiosk »

MOAR PLZ

MOAR NAOW
[:-]
write harder write faster
lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by lancer »



Image




Sand lice aren’t a concern up here on Death Plateau. You are too busy being cold to worry about scratching random itches. Below freezing at night. What little condensation there is can be collected at dawn as handfuls of gritty pebbles.

Warms only slightly during the cloudless, frigid days. A fitting compliment to the wind. Katabatics roaring straight down off the icy slopes of the Krull mountains, sand blasting exposed flesh red raw.

Hydroponic pod covers are all reinforced carbofibre. Not that there is much to see. Most of it underground. Tunnels, living quarters and vegetable beds. Only the blister tops of the pod covers poking out of the sand.

We are alone here on Dead plateau. Solitude, wind and cold, our only companions.

State Farm Six. Underwater aquifers enable us to provide close to five percent of our moons food requirements. Quite strange how the Mother can provide such benevolence in such an inhospitable location. But only a fool questions the wisdom of the Mother.

Sister Kel tried to. Caught wondering aloud about the Mother as a source of harmony. Perhaps, she postulated in her most querulous voice, the Mother has a streak of sadism in providing such a barren moon for her flock?

Prefect Zelda, hearing about such heresy, banished the hapless Sister Kel to the breeding pits. Let her be pawed and mauled by the animals from Zion. Teach her where true harmony lies.

Zion. Our Mother has been greatly displeased ever since the arrival of the Colony hulk from that cursed planet. The delicate balance of human and environment instantly thrown into chaos.

One million new arrivals. Men. All of them men.

Not the tame, anodyne males native to our moon that cater for our pleasures and perform all menial tasks. No, not those.

Kidnappers. Murderers. Rapists. Arsonists. Thieves. Filthy and corrupt. Wild, uncaring. Not knowing their subservient place in our society. Expecting that we, the Sisterhood, would meekly do as they ordered. Insisting. Lashing out at any sign of disobedience.

Falling upon any stray sister like packs of lustful wolves. Animals. Nothing but animals.

Prefect Zelda a member of the ‘Sisters of Purity’ who stomped down hard on this abomination. Rounded them up. Contained them in caged compounds. Forcibly neutered one in hundred as an example to the others.

Zionists squandering their opportunity for appeasement. Rose up as one like a single writhing, demented, multi-headed beast and attempted to surge through the containment grids. Electrically prodded back inside. Gassed and tranquillised. Woke up to find that this time one in ten of them could no longer call themselves true men.

Message received. Order restored. Parcelled up and sent in small groups to all outlying farms as labourers.

But our Mother does nothing without a reason. Recognising the need for an infusion of genetic diversity, the Sisterhood authorised a limited program of fraternisation.

Naturally the animals were incapable of meaningful social contact. Confined to austere quarters in remote locations they only succeeded in fighting amongst themselves.

None of the sisterhood willing to voluntarily mate with them. Hence the breeding pits. Each farm has them. Dark and deep, far beneath the desert surface. Groups of animals let loose each night. Sisters in need of clarity fed to them as sustenance.

A powerful tool for control. No sister who has experienced the horrors of the breeding pits has ever relapsed. A cleansing of the soul in preparation for the rigours of parenting.

But I digress. My Sand Rider with it’s octet of fat rubberised tyres bounces as it crests another endless wind dune. I notice movement off to my right. Most likely animals. Escaping.

Attempting to run the gauntlet of Death plateau in the hope of finding something better. Always one or two of them trying. Security measures designed to protect us from the animals, not prevent them heading off on fools’ errands across the plateau.

Cold gets most of them on their first night. Winged sand vipers home in unerringly on the body heat of the rest. Exercise in futility. Doesn’t stop them trying.

The daily cargo shuttle that arrives to transport our food produce to the cities usually brings several new animals to restore our quota. Animals are expendable.

Twitching the joystick to the right I swerve around a patch of pale sand. Crevasse country. Sand layer a thin veneer over the frozen tundra below. Cracks and fissures run far enough down to hit the warmer bedrock. Life giving water aquifers gurgling across the top of the bedrock through the multitude of fissures.

Head up display telling me I need to swing northwards. Homing in on the weak beacon signal. Faint and sporadic, eking out its terminal battery power.

The morning shuttle notifying us of its existence. Not wanting to bother with it. Prefect Zelda annoyed at their careless attitude. Reminding them of the proximity of our breeding pits. Laughed at. The Prefect, they point out, correctly, has no authority over them. Insisting that the signal is genuine. Our duty to investigate.

Something I have spent the better part of a day doing. Waste of everybody’s time. Remote possibility it could be a locator beacon from a distant, doomed space station. Or an escape pod.

Most likely none of the above. Simply an old message drone that drifted off course and ran out of fuel. I share Prefect Zelda’s frustration at such a waste of valuable resources.

Beep, beep, beep. Signal strength increasing. I tap the joystick. A touch to the east. Sandstorm closing in from behind. Only time for one pass before it’s buried forever.

It could be worse. Shuttle pilots tell of the anarchy that now exists in the Capital. Zion has landed armed battalions. Sisters of Purity no match for their sophisticated weaponry.

Sisterhood no longer solely in charge of our moon’s affairs. The animals from Zion exerting their power.

But I have nothing to worry about. Death plateau thousands of miles from the capitol. Whatever power the Zionists exert there doesn’t extend to our frigid, windy outpost.

I glance over my shoulder. Sand storm almost upon me. Radar picking up a metallic object close by. Fat rubber tyres squelch loudly as they dig through the crust, fighting for grip. Joystick rammed all the way forward. Reaching behind me for a self-breather helmet.

No time for anything fancy. Brake, stop, jump out. ID the object, retrieve any data core. Thirty seconds tops.

Doable.

Barely.




To be continued...

Lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by Shark7 »

OK, everyone get their bets in...Witch Wanda or The Leech?

hehehe [:D]
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lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by lancer »




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What if I start the war and nobody turns up?

Third Fleet is fully operational. Four Destroyers, two Cruisers and a troop carrier. Poised to strike. Second Fleet refuelled and in position.

All good. S.S “Lazy Sal”, the Empires most renowned explorer, busily ferreting its way westward along the spiral arm. Moving fast. Hitting systems one after the other. Brief stop, quick scan, keep moving.

Only interested in one thing. Apes.

Received a drone indicating they have found a sole Ape explorer poking around a nearby system but no sign of an Ape colony. Annoying. Can’t start the war if there is nobody to fight.

Ordered all of the Empires Explorers westward ho. Go find the Apes or die trying.

Informed by a pompous naval officer that there aren’t any other Explorers. Lazy Sal is it. Sunny Sue gobbled up by a biological.

Build some more! I yell at the twit. Jeez, sometimes I wonder why I bother. Can’t even give him a kick up the bum. Legs still not tamed. Probably trip over if I tried. Undignified.

Analyst tells me what I already know. Icky Apes must lie further along the westward spiral arm. Can’t be to the south. To much emptiness. Besides, we have a deep space monitoring station in position. Anything creeps out of the void down that a ways, we’ll know about it.




Image




FredTopia, the western most extremity of our empire, assuming strategic importance. Ordered the construction of a small space station. Slow. Not enough steel in system. Need to be freighted in. Shortage of civilian shipping.

Zorg complaining he can’t build any new tonnage ‘cause the navy are monopolising the shipyards. Has a point. Keels for Zorg Trucker Four through Seven laid down. Plus a passenger ship. Zorg opening up new markets. Going to bus tourists in to watch the Apes get waxed for all I know.

Asked the Emperor’s Man on General Huss’ flagship to confirm the destruction of a certain rusty Escort. Happened to be passing through the area.

Unconfirmed. That’s what he said. Unconfirmed.

What the h*ll? A space ship either is or isn’t. Esorts only carry so much Caslon. Run out of the stuff after a while. Can’t go far. Especially when they were scheduled to go BANG last month.

Second Fleet tracked right through the target zone. Scanned the whole damn area. Not hard to locate an unidentified Escort or bits of what used to be one.

Unconfirmed means I may have an Unnecessary worry. Leech on the loose.

Had Son of Igor run time and distance projections. Leech can’t have left the area. Rusty Escorts don’t come equipped with cloaking technology. Destroyed two of Zorg’s freighters. Combat uses a lot of fuel. Only nearby habitable planet being FredTopia. Colony would have picked up a stray ship’s signature.

So where exactly is the crazed one? If Zorg talks to the Leech I’m toast. Can’t happen. Give it a few weeks. If I can’t track down the Leech I may be forced to Pearl Harbour Zorg.

Don’t want to. Not sure if I could. James Wong, my handpicked super spy and ninja accountant, currently incommunicado. Gone deep. Go where-ever you want fella just get me some useable intel.

Icky Apes Explorer has left the Dispayri system. Sniffing its way around the fringes of the empire.

Fired off a message asking if they would be kind enough to sell us a map of Ape Land. Stressed I’d like to come for a visit. Shake hands with the head Ape. Enjoy some fine Ape hospitality.

Apes appear to have learnt a few words of English. Starting with the easy ones. Like NO.

Not even news from Sol can cheer me up. Colonised the scrappy little desert moon there. Existing population thrilled to see the folk from Zion. Cult worship of strange deities. One of them looks a lot like me. Legend of the Seeker all over. Spooky.

Sent a present to their new Emperor. Over seven thousand credits. Open invitation to visit. Keys to the planet. Huge party planned. Feel compelled to worship their Emperor up close.

Whoopee.

Did them a favour. Renamed their little home. All those acres of flat red and ochre dirt. Seasonal icecaps. Generously cratered. Reminded me of Mars. Told the palace cartographer to call it ‘Kansas’.

Hope they like it.




Image





To be continued...

Lancer
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by lancer »



Image
Aures
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by Aures »

Noooooooooo...ooooo...ooooooooo!!!!!!....!!!!!...[X(]

Oh well, look forward to reading more when the official scribe is done greasing the right palms. Smashing stuff this AAR.
Most of my Empires are too big

vonboy
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by vonboy »

I shall let my master know. He will not be amused.

We'll be waiting, all of us. all of the trigger happy emperers. [:@][:D][;)]
torrenal
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by torrenal »

(Don't mind me... replying to posts at the bottom of the page, and I'm just assuming it's the last post in the thread... silly me)
//Torrenal
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thiosk
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by thiosk »

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

seriously i check this thread twice a day
tornnight
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by tornnight »

I also read this thread constantly
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2guncohen
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by 2guncohen »

Where are You ???
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thiosk
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by thiosk »

ughnnn i can't take it anymore, need more fred

Chapter something or other

"hai i'm emperor fred. blather blather. screw toads and women" said fred

"motgher moonz is bno place for u" said whats her name

"haha enjoy the death troopers and 30 regiments lolzzzz" said fred

"why so seriousssss" said leech

"oh shit whose this gai" said whates her name

"bang. emperor fred saves the day" said fred

"mother moon declares huuuuuge orgy" said whats her name

to be continued


Its just not the same :(
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Mundy
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RE: Emperor Fred goes Postal AAR

Post by Mundy »

I think Lancer's AAR has singlehandedly convinced me to get this game.
 
Probably after my trip next week.
 
M-
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