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Space Station 13


#1

Over the Chrimbo holibags I discovered the existence of the wonderful Comic Space Catastrophe Simulator Space Station 13.

I’m a huge Dwarf Fortress fan, so the idea of a multiplayer massively micro-management game in Space appealed to me.

It’s already provided me with some of the most bizarre, interesting and hilarious playthroughs of any multiplayer game I’ve ever played.

And while searching for tutorials on the various different job roles, I ran across this article from our very own Quinns!


#2

So, I guess, in the Spirit of Quinns, I’ll leave an example of a (non)Typical playthrough, though each playthrough has been drastically different in it’s length, severity of catastrophe, and survivability.

I awoke in the Robotics lab, with my fellow Robotocist, exchanged some pleasantries and got to work building some Cyborgs to eventually transplant a brain into.
After a few minutes, we get a visit from the Chief Scientist, to check on what we were up to.
While I’m assembling the head of the cyborg and inserting the Flash Devices it uses for eyes - I accidentally click on the flash device - it goes off - and everyone in the room is blinded by a white light.
When my vision returned, I found that the Security detail who had been guarding the Chief Scientist had handcuffed me - and I was being dragged away forceably to Security Central.
They strip me, go through all of my stuff - and lock me in a cell, while they figure out what to do with me.
I play the part of a good prisoner - rattling the bars, singing jailhouse blues, and complaining about police brutality and the violence inherent in the system.
Eventually they drag me into the interview room, punch me around a little, and then demand to know why I ‘flashed’ a Head of Department. They receive my “It was an accident, man!” with some amount of scepticism.
Eventually, when I start complaining that if being incompetent is a crime, then they should arrest the whole damn station - they let me go… and I return to the Robotics lab.
I discover that my fellow Roboticist has completed the work on my Cyborg, and had found a willing donor for the brain, at least that’s what I took the dead body, blood spattered walls and sentient robot waving at me to mean.
The Cyborg asked if I could install them with a better Power Cell, so I got to work on that.
While I was crowbarring open the Cyborgs access panel, I heard a strange sound… echoing laughter.
Then, from the pool of blood that had collected on the floor after the brain transplant - a huge demon appeared… phasing in and out of existence, while it’s wicked, glitchy laughter rang out.
It grabbed the dead body and ran out of the room.
I cowered in the corner, crying and sobbing for a while, until Security showed up (same guy that arrested me earlier) - who didn’t seem to believe me when I stutteringly exclaimed that I’d just seen a D-D-D-DEMON!!!. He still thought I was a traitor, but couldn’t prove it, so I managed not to get re-arrested.
I set to work again, constructing Janitor Bots to clean up all the bloody mess in my office…
… Then I stepped outside.
The whole central corridor was like a scene from the Shining. dismembered limbs, bodies and blood everywhere, total panic and pandemonium.
Then I heard the laughter again, a pool of blood started boiling behind me and then the demon appeared … and… Tickled me.
Then he Tickled me again… and again… I collapsed to the ground in a fit of hysterics, but the Demon just kept tickling and tickling - till I lost consciousness.

When I awoke, I was in the medbay, with the Captain of the Station and The Chief Medical Officer - the Emergency Evacuation Shuttle had been called and would arrive in roughly 10 minutes - we were, apparently, the last survivors on the station. The Captain asked “Are you the guy who made all those Janitor Bots?”… I nodded… “Smart Thinking… those Demons need the blood to get around and those bots are making it difficult for them - we need to make more!”;
We hatched a plan to use the maintenance tunnels to get to the Janitors Storage Area, where more materials for making the Janitor Bots could be found… once there we discovered the Janitor had locked and welded himself inside; and would only let us in once we had proven we were “clean”.

Cut to - Four of us, frantically running our way down a corridor followed by a small army of Janitor bots, while the Demons stalked us from the bloods edge, laughing maniacally, as we mopped our way to the Escape Shuttle.

In the end, we failed… the Demons simply threw corpses at us and walked along the trails of blood that it made, making their way onto the Shuttle and tickling us all to death.

But in all future playthroughs… I will never underestimate the power of a nice clean floor.
I have a sneaking suspicion that my department not properly disposing of dead bodies could’ve been the catalyst for the whole thing… but I would never tell the Captain that.


#3

Ahhh, SS13. How I love it. (Well, loved. Not played in a few years)

There I was, a humble cargo/supply officer, dealing with deliveries and mail. Everything had been going smoothley for a while until the clown came up to the counter.

“Excuse me,” quoth the clown, “can you order me a mech?”

“A mech?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not ordering you or anyone else a mech without documentation saying you’re authorised to get one.”

“oh. Ok. Back in a bit”

Two minutes later the clown is back. He hands me a piece of paper which reads “I am allowed to have a mech”.

“One mech please”.

I grab my denied stamp and stamp the paper, then hand it back to him.

“HEY!” calls the clown. “You said I just needed the paper”

“You need a requisition form. It has to be authorised by someone in charge.”

“What the… Where do I get one of those?”

I hand him a requisition form.

Ten minutes later he’s back.

“honk.”

“What now?” I quip.

“I’ve got you a form.” and, true to his clowny word, he hands me a requisition form with the words “a big mech and some laser guns and stuff” written on it. It’s signed “Captain clown”

“Did you sign this yourself?”

“Yup.”

I pick up my denied stamp and stamp the clowns head with it repeatedly.

He spends the next hour sending requisition forms with “a new and better supplies officer” down the mail chute.