• The button lists the various life forms that helped create Space Quest Six.
  • Don't touch that. We don't know where you've been.
  • It feels slightly gritty. You suppress an urge to dust it.
  • Don't pick at it, you'll only make it worse.
  • It wouldn't be prudent to do that at this juncture.
  • You summon the ability to leave it alone.
  • That wouldn't prove fulfilling.
  • That's delightfully non-helpful.
  • That won't help in this situation.
  • You didn't learn the pinch just to use it against your friendly crew mates.
  • Excellent guess, Kreskin. Wrong, but excellent.
  • As cool as it would be to interface these two items, no good would come of it.
  • It probably seemed like a good idea to you at one time.
  • That's an interesting idea. Not a good one, but interesting nonetheless.
  • It would appear that merging those two items is not a good idea.
  • Boy, wouldn't it be cool if that really worked?
  • It looks a lot more detailed than it did in SQ4, that's for sure.
  • It hurts your eyes to look at that. In fact, you feel a major headache coming on.
  • You display your standard blank stare, but it is unimpressed.
  • You are visually unimpressed.
  • Not much going on there, eh?
  • That bores me so.
  • What can be said that isn't painfully obvious?
  • You look at it, but nothing strikes your fancy.
  • You start to say something, and then you remember that you're supposed to be a man of action, not words. Or is that the other way around?
  • You drool in that direction but no one notices.
  • Your utterances fall on uninterested aural organs.
  • You get a jump on senility by mumbling to yourself.
  • Your words are so unspectacular, nature doesn't even see fit to grant it an echo.
  • Your words cause everything to become speechless. How dynamic of you.
  • Hey, don't put your mouth on that!
  • This button brings up the Control Panel, allowing you to save or restore games, change volume and speed, and some other stuff. Have a look. Hurry now, while supplies last.
  • This control adjusts the amount of onscreen animation. If the game is very slow on your machine, try lowering this.
  • The "Hands" button allows you to pick up items, open or close things, push or pull them, or manipulate them in some appropriate -- or inappropriate -- fashion.
  • This button allows you to exit the current window.
  • This button allows you to find out what these controls do.
  • This button allows you to get an explanation of what each button on the interface does.
  • Click on the "Pockets" button at any time to see what you're carrying with you.
  • Push here to load a previously saved game.
  • Clicking on the "Eyes" button brings up the eye cursor, which you may then click on to get a description of that item.
  • This changes the music volume.
  • Push this button when you're done with whatever was so important that you had to pause.
  • Pushing this button exits the game.
  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Now, tell us what you enjoyed about the game. Use examples from

the text. Why or why not? Be brief.

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

It's world-class!

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

(Applause!) Encore! Encore! Author, author! Which one?

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Okay, show of hands. Now, how many of you were offended by the

shape of the DeepShip 86?

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Aren't you glad your middle name isn't "Lawrence"?

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Game over, Man, game over!

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

(This humorous space for rent)

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

"Pizza and Pentiums, Pentiums and Pizza. That's all I ever

hear about." - Josh Mandel/Mark Hood/Oliver Brelsford 1994-95

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

"Heap High Water Mark" is a registered trademark of Sierra On-Line,


  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Captain! There be DOS prompts here!

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

"Mostly bearded programmers for a real hairy experience."

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

"Mostly long-haired artists for a mostly long-haired gaming


  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Roger Wilco has left the computer! I repeat; Roger has left the computer!

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

We're not emotionally unstable, once you get to know us. Really.

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

"I swear! We never play Doom! What're you talking about?"

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

Just keep telling yourself: it's only a's only a game...

  • Copyright (c) 1995 Sierra On-Line, Inc.

Thank you for playing "Space Quest 6."

  • This button turns screen scrolling on or off.
  • This button allows you to turn screen scrolling on or off.
  • Press this button to save your current place in the adventure.
  • This button allows you to turn screen scrolling on or off.
  • This button gives you control of the volume of the sound effects.
  • This button instantly cues the staff of Hollywood actors we have standing by to start acting the game out loud. Press it again, and they'll take five.
  • This button allows you to control the speed of this game.
  • Clicking the "Mouth" button brings up the mouth cursor. If you click the mouse cursor on a person, you'll talk to that person. If you click it on an object, you might chew it, lick it, or perform some other mouth-oriented action -- within reason!
  • This button allows you to adjust the speed at which the text messages are displayed.
  • Press this button when you want to see text messages. Press it again when you don't.
  • Clicking on the object shown in this window (if any) will give you the cursor for that object, allowing you to give it to something or someone, or just proudly display it.
  • Clicking this button brings up the "Feet" cursor. This cursor allows you to move around Roger's world.


  • While that's an interesting idea, it won't help.
  • The shuttle's alarm is now deactivated.
  • The shuttle's alarm is now activated.
  • I probably don't need to set the alarm.
  • It's a key with a little button thingie attached to it.
  • You quite cleverly paste your picture over the old one on the ID card.
  • You poke it and prod it, and generally make it feel like a piece of meat!
  • You get fingerprints all over it.
  • What, was that supposed to be clever?
  • Don't mess with that!
  • Nothing happens. See, most games would just give you a generic response when you try something useless like that. But we've custom-tailored this response exactly for you!
  • Careful! Combining those items might cause a rip in the space-time continuum, a tear in the very fabric of space itself! (Or not.)
  • In this galaxy, those two items don't do anything together. Maybe it's different in your neck of the woods, huh?
  • Pretty cool looking, eh?
  • Let's look at it together and see what we can see, okay?
  • It looks vaguely like your heinie after it's been chewed out by your boss.
  • Don't even bother looking in your pockets. You are carrying nothing, nada, zip, zero, zilch.
  • These are the printouts of the files you've collected from cyberspace as evidence against Dr. Beleauxs.
  • You're the first one on your block to actually possess someone else's alveoli!
  • All the little capillaries you collected are nicely attached together with duct tape.
  • It's one of the interestingly shaped pastries you took from the food cart.
  • It's not effective now.
  • It's Nigel's belt with the Damping Field Actuator still attached.
  • It's the printout of Dr. Beleaux's record, which you found in cyberspace.
  • It's the plank you found at the construction site.
  • Cool. Bobbit-Kabobs. They whip up some interesting food items in this joint.
  • Now it has some cool ears.
  • Don't mess with it or the deal might be off.
  • It's that Coldsorian Brandy Elmo wanted. Yuck, it has a fish floating in the bottom. Oh well, to each their own.
  • It's that Coldsorian brandy. Yuck! It has a fish floating in the bottom. Oh well, to each their own.
  • There isn't much you can do to them that inflation hasn't already.
  • That's your current Buckazoid collection.
  • That label won't come off.
  • It's a piece of that stringy stuff from celery.
  • To guarantee a win, the cheat sheet says, "When at the Choice screen, press the machine's letter buttons in the following order: A B B A C A C A. Then, be aggressive and attack as much as possible using your new secret weapon."
  • The corner of the label on this moddie seems to be loose.
  • That's the churlish moddie I found in that box.
  • It's a piece of Divalium crystal with glue on it.
  • You pour glue all over the crystal.
  • It's a piece of Divalium crystal.
  • That's the cyberspace jack.
  • You're already using it!
  • Sorry, you can't bring up the datacorder at this time.
  • This is the datacorder you got from that endodroid hunter dude.
  • It's the doughnut you filched from the food cart.
  • No, you can't eat it.
  • It's the most indespensible item in the universe: duct tape.
  • You cleverly tape the capillaries together.
  • That's an interesting idea. It might have some potential.
  • An interesting idea. Something's starting to take shape. What are you up to, Roger?
  • Those items seem to meld well with the sculpture in progress.
  • It looks like it's taking shape nicely.
  • Attachment of that adds something more to your work in progress.
  • Something seems to be taking shape here.
  • How creative!
  • That's a nice touch.
  • That's your relatively pathetic eulogy for Stellar.
  • That's your helmet partly full of enzymes or whatever.
  • That's your helmet.
  • With a head like yours, you're lucky they even supplied you with a helmet.
  • Maybe you should inflate it first ...
  • That's your extra vehicular activity, or EVA, suit.
  • It's a broken fingernail tip you scavenged from Stellar's appendix.
  • It's the first PTS photo negative.
  • You peel apart the photo and negative from your first PTS image.
  • It's the first positive image from the PTS.
  • I don't think you really want to touch that scaly piece of marine life. Trust me on this one.
  • It's a fish. (You'd better remember to wash these pants after this sequel.)
  • Those are the gallstones you collected as souvenirs from Stellar's common bile duct.
  • Nice work. You've hooked up your makeshift hose to the pump.
  • There's nothing to pump in this window.
  • It's the pump you retrieved from the shuttle trunk. It reminds you of one of those hand pumps you use when the astrohead plugs up.
  • It's a somewhat damaged CD Rom disc.
  • Ah, the hookah hoses are now neatly connected.
  • You carefully untangle the twisted mass of hookah hoses, and then rehook the hoses to create one long hose. It reminds you of Christmas time back home when you enjoyed untangling the Christmas lights and saying to yourself, "I get so much satisfaction from cleaning and straightening. One day I'll be the best janitor ever!"
  • Well, at least one part of that dream came true. You are a janitor. You rehook the hoses to create one long one.
  • It's a twisted mass of hookah hoses.
  • That's your makeshift grappling hook.
  • It's the keycard to your luxurious suite at the charming Dew Beam Inn. The room number is 1220 J.
  • Don't mess with that. You've got enough problems.
  • It's the ice cube tray you grabbed from the bar refrigerator.
  • It's an an ice cube tray full of endodroid.
  • Very good. He'll be much more transportable this way. However, you'd better hope it doesn't thaw.
  • This turns on the inventory "Help," which is already turned on (which is why you're getting this message!).
  • Click here to bring up an arrow cursor. If you click the arrow on any of your inventory items, that item will become "active," ready to use.
  • This button scrolls your inventory window down (only when you have more than eight inventory items).
  • Click on this "Eye" button to bring up an "Eye" cursor, which you may then click on the inventory items to receive descriptions of them.
  • Click on this to bring up the inventory "Hand", which lets you turn on, turn off, open, close, or otherwise manipulate the inventory items.
  • Click here to return to active gameplay, rather than mucking about here in Inventory Help.
  • This marker shows your viewing position in relation to the entire size of the inventory window. Got that?
  • This button scrolls your inventory window up (only when you have more than eight inventory items).
  • These are the shuttle's jumper cables. That sure doesn't make you feel real secure about this spacecraft if those are standard equipment.
  • It's that lardmaster's keyring.
  • These are the candies you retrieved from Stellar's stomach.
  • It's a marking pen.
  • It's an electromagnet you quite cleverly constructed from the nerve fiber bundles and paper clip.
  • It's a nice round melon.
  • It's a bottle of Morphin, which you thought was actually Morphine. DOI!
  • It's a bottle of Morphin.
  • That's the keyring nail I got from the wall.
  • That's a bundle of nerve fibers you borrowed from Stellar's innards.
  • This is the printout of Nigel's record from cyberspace.
  • It's the number three card you took from the card dispenser.
  • It's a paper clip from Stellar's appendix. You're definitely going to have to talk to Stellar about her eating habits -- that is, if you make it out of here.
  • No, that's just not a good idea now.
  • Yuck!! It's the hair you pulled from Nigel's Personal Grooming Assistant.
  • It's the Personal Grooming Assistant you got from Nigel.
  • It's a picture and its negative.
  • It's one of those ticklish pinfeather things.
  • It's a fairly heavy and solid piece of pipe.
  • This one's the Project: Immortality record printout.
  • The pump's ready to do its thing.
  • I remember what this is. It's a Rack of Orat. Haven't seen this stuff since Space Quest 1.
  • It's a mere scrap of rag.
  • It's the recall notice for the owner's manual.
  • It reads "Dear Hamm Shuttle Owner, It has come to our attention that there is a minor misprint in the owner's manual for the 1000 series of shuttles. Until a new manual can be acquired, please disregard page 73, paragraph 4 of that manual.
  • Where it reads, "As any moron knows,

when jumping the 1000 series, please

match the '+' cable end with the '+'

terminal on the polarflux repeater

deck. Follow the same procedure for

the '-' cable and '-' pole."

  • It should now read, "As any moron knows,

when jumping the 1000 series, please

match the '+' cable end with '\03' pole,

and the '-' cable end with the '\02' pole.

Thank you for flying a Hammster."

  • This is the printout of the cyberspace record for Sharpei.
  • This is Sharpei's record. Interesting stuff, indeed.
  • It's the screwdriver you found outside the cyberspace trailer.
  • It's the negative from the second PTS image.
  • You peel apart the photo and negative from the second PTS image.
  • This is the second PTS photo. It has yet to be peeled apart.
  • This is the second photo positive.
  • It's the bundle of capillaries you appropriated from Stellar.
  • It's the "Help!" sign from the shuttle's trunk.
  • This is Sydney's left eye.
  • You shiver as you run your fingers over the cold silver filling.
  • (QUITE IMPRESSED) Oooooohh!
  • It's a chunk of silver tooth filling you found in Stellar's appendix.
  • It's a piece of staple. You've got to wonder what was on the menu for Stellar's last meal.
  • This is the file on Stellar. It looks like a fresh entry.
  • This is the printout from Stellar's cyberspace file.
  • It's one of those neat little timed-release time pills.
  • It's a transport signaler.
  • It's a tuberous growth of some sort from the food cart.
  • Yuck, it's the hair you pulled from Nigel's Personal Grooming Assistant.
  • It's that static-laden cheapo polystyrene rug you ripped from the wall.
  • No, I don't think you want to mess with that.
  • It's your whisk broom, and tray full of endodroid.
  • It's your trusty whisk broom and dust pan.
  • These look like something they cleaved from the side of Yoda's head.


  • As Manuel told you, you can only use it from the area you transported to originally.
  • The shuttle's alarm is now deactivated.
  • The shuttle's alarm is now activated.
  • You don't need to WEAR it, you just need to USE it.
  • You're not that hungry. In fact, you've never been THAT hungry.
  • Roger, you're enough of a mess when you're straight. Getting a buzz will certainly not help.
  • We wouldn't even want to predict where you think that plug goes!
  • Sorry, you can't bring up the datacorder at this time.
  • You pinch yourself to make sure this isn't all a bad dream.
  • Roger is in space. He can't remove his helmet.
  • Not a bad idea if you're trying to take yourself hostage!
  • No, that's just not a good idea now.
  • You actually don't need need to wear your helmet while traipsing around inside Stellar.
  • You're back in your comfy, reassuring janitorial duds.
  • Hey! That's me!
  • You're already holding the prong. Did you want to insert it into some sort of orifice?
  • Youch! I guess that was wasn't too smart. Now that's a pain that's going to linger.
  • I hope I never get so far gone that I end up talking to myself ... like ... this.
  • It just doesn't work that way.


  • Chapter 1
  • Chapter 2
  • Chapter 3
  • Epilogue
  • Prologue
  • Chapter (0-4)
  • Where to?
  • < Restore >
  • Arcade
  • Bridge


  • Free Memory:
  • kBytes
  • Space Quest 6
  • Roger Wilco in
  • The Spinal Frontier
  • Version:


  • It's the belt that big guy was wearing.
  • It's the Damping Field Actuator.
  • This is a Personal Grooming Assistant.


  • Additional Cross Reference: |c10|Project: Immortality|c|

Cross Reference: |c10|Sharpei|c|, |c10|Santiago|c|.

  • Beleauxs, Dr. H.
  • Hmm ... looks like interesting reading.
  • The Holy Grail of narcissists everywhere, Project: Immortality is the cold, hard scientific name applied to the cold, hard science that is the Fountain of Youth of our times. Project: Immortality is funded by Sharpei and overseen by controversial doctor Hayden Beleauxs. It promises humankind the hope of the ages: eternal life. Sure makes marriage a scary propostion though, doesn't it?

Cross Reference: |c10|End Game|c|

  • Project: Immortality
  • Nigel Rancid and his brother Singent are hired thugs. Most recently, the Rancid brothers have beem employed by Dr. Hayden Beleauxs and Sharpei of the Golden Lightyears Retirement Community on Delta Burksilon V.

Cross Reference: |c10|Beleauxs|c|, |c10|Sharpei|c|, |c10|Santiago|c|

  • Rancid, Nigel
  • Corpsman Stellar Santiago was a member of the StarCon Fleet before her departure from this world while attempting to rescue a janitor second class who was stationed aboard SCS DeepShip 86.

Cross Reference: |c10|Sharpei|c|, |c10|Beleauxs|c|

  • Santiago, Stellar
  • A philanthropist of the first order, this benefactress of many good causes is known throughout the universe simply as "Sharpei]." Sharpei's most recent project has been the Golden Lightyears Retirement Community on Delta Burksilon V, where she hopes to spend her declining years. Always thinking of others, this grand lady will leave a legacy of charitable works behind her when she goes.

Cross Reference: |c10|Beleauxs|c|, |c10|Santiago|c|

  • Sharpei


  • Ahem. I said, AHEM!
  • Major bummer!
  • Thank you for playing Space Quest 6: Roger Wilco in the Spinal Frontier.
  • Thank you for purchasing Space Quest 6. You did purchase it, didn't you? Oh, of course you did. You sure couldn't be like one of those weasels who would make illegal copies. You're too cool for that.
  • Thank you for playing Space Quest 6. You've been a real hoot!
  • Oh, that was real cute!
  • I don't have anything that works in that.
  • No, on second thought, I don't think I should bug them.
  • Nah, I don't want to mess with that.
  • It's going to be hard to top this experience.
  • Hello, I'm Gary Owens and I'll be your narrator today.
  • That had to feel interesting.
  • I'll kick your ass!
  • I'm not gonna put my lips on that!
  • Hang on! Here we go!
  • So close, and yet so far away.
  • Squeezing Stellar's pimple, Dr. Beleauxs forcibly extracts you.
  • Was that a good shot or what?!
  • Space Quest 6: Roger Wilco and the Spinal Frontier.
  • Sorry, I'm not touching that and you can't make me.
  • Nice try!
  • Good thinking!
  • No, I don't think that'll work.
  • While that's an interesting idea, it won't help.
  • Interesting.
  • Good thinking!
  • Now, there's a novel instrument.
  • As Manuel told you, you can only use it from the area you transported to originally.


  • Do you have anything to say for yourself before we pronounce sentence?
  • Umm ...
  • Can't you guys take a joke?
  • Do you have anything INTELLIGENT to say for yourself before we pronounce sentence?
  • Uh, nope.
  • Very well. It is the opinion of this tribunal that as punishment for your crimes against the StarCon Federation, you are to be decommissioned.
  • You are hereby stripped of the rank of Captain. (LOUD RIPPING SOUND)
  • You are no longer an officer of the StarCon Federation. (ANOTHER LOUD RIP)
  • However ...
  • Due to your successful return of the SCS Eureka, your rescue of the Goliath's crew ...
  • ... and the fact that nobody gets rid of stubborn mildew stains and black heel marks as well as you do ...
  • ... we are returning you to your former post with StarCon Fleet.
  • ... the SCS DeepShip 86.
  • The StarCon Federation has reached its decision.
  • Roger Wilco, please step forward.
  • Roger Wilco, you have been judged guilty of the following crimes:
  • Abandoning your post. Deviating from mission parameters.
  • Misuse of StarCon property.
  • Disintegrating a fellow officer.
  • Perpetrating a sequel without authorization.
  • And consorting with a female of higher rank.
  • Attention, all hands.
  • This is your commander speaking ...
  • So, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you...
  • Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you ...
  • Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you ...
  • ... thank you, thank you ... thank you.
  • As a gesture of appreciation, we're putting in for shore leave on Polysorbate LX. Enjoy yourselves and don't do anything I wouldn't do. Kielbasa out.
  • I don't care how you do it, Gentlemen, so long as his body is intact. Do you understand?
  • Yeah, right, yes, right, you got it, right away, whatever you say, right, yes....
  • Good. Now. I believe you'll find him here ... on Polysorbate LX ... on shore leave ...
  • Okay, I'm ready. Energize!


  • Did you hear about the animator who killed himself? Yeah, he couldn't draw his own breath.
  • Who wrote this crap? Oh yeah, Scott. Yeah, well, yeah, then good work.

Oliver Brelsford


Josh Mandel

Scott Murphy


Scott Murphy

Josh Mandel


Michael Hutchison

John Shroades


Steve Conrad


Dan Kehler


Neil Grandstaff

Dan Kehler


John Shroades

Chris Willis


Michael Hutchison

Deanna Yhalkee

Karin Nestor

Barry Sundt

Frankie Powell


William R. Shockley

Michael G. Lytton

Arijit De

Sterling S. Butts

Oliver Brelsford


William R. Shockley


Karin Nestor


Chris Willis

Michael Hutchison


Rick and Kelli Spurgeon

Scott Murphy

Oliver Brelsford


Jon Meek


Leslie S. Balfour


Susan Frischer

Leslie S. Balfour


Chris Willis

Jason Piel

Alberto Eufrasio

Jason Zayas


Larry Scott

Ed Critchlow

Dan Foy

Ken Koch

Terry McHenry

Chris Smith

Greg Tomko-Pavia

Mark Wilden


John Trauger


Michael D. Jones

Sharon Simmons

Bill Davis Jr.

Lynne Dayton

John Ratcliffe

Douglas Wheeler

John Cunney

Mike Pickhincke

Leonard Salas

Roger Clendenning

Steve Deckert

Jillian Leonard

Paul Trowe

Scott Howell

Marsha McCarty


Taylor Korobow


Fantasy Studios

Waves Studio

Russian Hill Recording


Narrator: Gary Owens

Roger Wilco: William Hall

Stellar Santiago: Carol Bach Y Rita

Sharpei: Carol Bach Y Rita

Doctor Beleauxs: Jarion Monroe

Commander Kielbasa: Jarion Monroe

Djurkwhad: Joe Paulino

Dorff: Joe Paulino

Endodroid: Tom Chantler

Blaine Rohmer: Jarion Monroe

Pa Conshohocken: Charles Martinet

Elmo Pug: Doug Boyd

Fester Blatz: Joe Paulino

Circuit Sydney: Doug Boyd


Sys Inny: Carol Bach Y Rita

Singent Flembuckit: Tom Chantler

Nigel Rancid: Tom Chantler

Ray Trace: Charles Martinet

Wriggley: Carol Bach Y Rita

P'Tooie: Charles Martinet

Hotel Manager: Roger Jackson

Jebba the Hop: Denny Delk

Waitron: Lucille Bliss

Director: William Hall

Starcon Official: Jarion Monroe

Manuel Auxveride: Joe Paulino

Computer Voice: William Hall


Sung by: Lana Roberts


Written by: Leslie S. Balfour

Designed by: Lori Lucia


J. Mark Hood

Jerry Bowerman

Craig Alexander

Cindy Wharton

Darlou Gams

Bob Andrews

  • Dedicated to Duncan Thacker
  • Dedicated to the loving memory of Garrett Denver Peckinpah


  • He looks like someone you'd want to just run up to and pound with a mallet.
  • Unfortunately, you're fresh out of mallets.
  • This guy looks like a well-used railroad spike. Perhaps the rust and mushroomed head give it away.
  • This humongous, expensive game is an all-time favorite. You have to duplicate famous gourmet dishes while piloting vintage combat aircraft against the Nazi Menace.
  • Wonder what's with the blue kid. You could have sworn you heard him say, "Are you my mommy?"
  • He seems to be oblivious to your presence, but then, who isn't to some degree?
  • The ceiling area is loaded with lights, cables, and other crap. It sure looks neat. Too bad no one knows what any of it does.
  • Hey, this guy's good! You can kiss this game goodbye.
  • Yeah, like I need you rubbing it in.
  • Sorry.
  • I changed my mind. Maybe later.
  • How lucky can a guy get? That was pure luck! Geez!
  • Where's my money?
  • Here.
  • Now if I were you, I'd make myself scarce, you little lump of phlegm. Otherwise I'm gonna lose my temper, and all that's gonna be left of you is teeth and toenails.
  • Realizing that he probably means what he says, you wisely make your way out of here.
  • So, do you want to play?
  • Let's rumble!
  • That's not recommended. That'll either get an appendage removed or a date you really don't want.
  • It's your new acquaintance, Djurkwhad.
  • Now that's an interesting specimen. Is this place the backwoods of the universe or what?
  • I've thought it over. I think I'll give it a try. Let's do it, Tentacle Head.
  • Great! I can't wait to waste you. You're gonna bring good money at the slave colony.
  • Wow, Man. Guess I got real lucky, or maybe you were holding back on me. Nah, you wouldn't do that, would ya. You don't look that bri... I mean, that probably isn't your style.
  • Wanna play again? (PUT UP YES/NO DIALOG)
  • Hi, Mr. Djurkwhad. How about another game of Stooge Fighter? I'm feeling a little luckier this time.
  • Heh, heh, you know, Kid, I'd really like to but I need a little more of a challenge. Take a long walk off a short asteroid, okay?
  • What's the matter? Afraid a measly, little, pencil-neck, lowlife janitor and general waste of human life is going to embarrass you in front of your friends?
  • Well said.
  • Hold on there, you little puke! I'm not afraid of some puny little zit on the butt of the universe.
  • Djurkwhad is a scaredy cat! Djurkwhad is scaredy cat!
  • All right, you little wad of spit. Let's play. I'll waste you. Tell you what. Let's make it interesting. If you win (HEAVY SNICKER), I'll give you 300 buckazoids. However, if I win, you're mine to do with as I see fit. Is it a deal?
  • Oh, this is gonna be fun! You're a bit puny but I'm sure I'll be able to get a few buckazoids for you over at the slave colony.
  • I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you quite right. Did you say "slave colony"?
  • Too late to back out, Borg Breath.
  • I knew that.
  • Gee, Mr. Djurkwhad, I don't think so right now. I'm feeling a little transporter lag. Maybe later.
  • So this is Stooge Fighter 3. Doesn't look so tough to me.
  • Say, Pardner, care to indulge in a friendly game?
  • By the way, the name's Djurkwhad. What's your momma call you?
  • A mistake. But my friends call me Roger, Roger Wilco.
  • Well, it's darn fine to meet you, Roger. So, what do ya' say to a friendly little round of Stooge Fighter 3?
  • Gosh, Mr. Djurkwhad. That, ah, that sounds neat.
  • Not now, thanks.
  • Uh, let me know when you're ready to play, little buddy.
  • That's the door back out to the street. A quick survey of the knob jockeys in this joint makes you think it might be a good thing to stay close to.
  • Oh, yeah, you want a fingerload of that stuff. Think about it. Teenager-types come in here. Imagine where they've been. Imagine what interesting things they secrete. Yuck.
  • It's a bit dark down there. Believe me, it's just as well.
  • In this game, you have to play basketball in a three-piece suit, barefoot, while avoiding deadly athlete's foot fungus growing on the court. It's called "MBA Toejam."
  • An overhead screen advertises a new kiddy-level arcade game in which you walk around Calcutta trying to match the right body part with the leper who lost it.
  • Isn't it funny how the wimpiest little nerds are always best at these fighting games?
  • Ah, nothing personal.
  • This rough, tough, creampuff is positively murdelizing that machine.
  • Leave him alone. He's trying for his personal high.
  • That would be an ill-advised move, Roger. Believe me.
  • On second thought, I think I'll just leave this guy alone. I've heard some really bad things about secondary smoke.
  • Yes, I'm sure it has nothing to do with your fear of becoming a two-dimensional floor decoration once he pounds you so hard you look like you were freeze-dried.
  • Cool. It's a potential sucker, trying to decide if it's worth it!
  • There's a serious dweeb factor happening here.
  • This arcade, known to the locals as "Dismembers Only," is filled with lowlifes, druggies and juvenile deliquents from all over the galaxy.
  • And those are just the employees!
  • Not now, it's intensely involved in its game.
  • This little purple being is kicking fanny on this game. He's built up an audience.
  • Don't interrupt it.
  • It's in use.
  • This is one of those exciting racing games where you careen around corners at top speed, zoom over crumbling bridges, run over passers-by, collide with other vehicles, and fly off the track.
  • Anything that shortens THIS guy's lifespan probably makes the universe a safer place.
  • No way! I don't want to get any of that on me.
  • Another in the wide variety of lifeforms you've seen on this planet, this guy just stands there, looks, and fires an occasional lunger.
  • How did all these forms manage to come together in one place? Normally, you'd have to travel lightyears to run into just a few different lifeforms. This place has the odds beaten big time!
  • It ignores you. Some of these beings act like mannequins. They're fully developed physically, but they seem perfectly content to just stand and look at the pretty lights. Weird.
  • Look, it's the hot new game, "Stooge Fighter 3"! It's supposed to be the goriest, most violent arcade game since "Disembowling For Dollars."
  • Interesting head formation. He looks like one of those cranium suckers you saw in a scary movie once.
  • Guess that means YOU'LL be safe.


  • Each of these buttons performs a different function depending on which character you are playing. Instructions are given at the beginning of each game.
  • This one's Coily Joe. Coily's bulk belies the finesse-laden look up-look down move and the "nyaahh" hand in the face. He also has the raw power to deliver a stunning fist-on-nose overhand. A powerful package indeed.
  • This is the Lar-Man. He has a mean ear twist, a sinus-draining nose tweak, and he does a pretty respectable crowbar to the nose. He's not one to be underestimated.
  • This is Big Mo. Big Mo's specialties are the face slap, and a particularly effective hair pull guaranteed to make even Geordi's eyes water.
  • Lar Man Wins!
  • Coily Joe Wins!
  • Big Mo Wins!
  • Lar Man wins the match!
  • Coily Joe wins the match!
  • Big Mo wins the match!
  • You moidered him.
  • He moidered you!
  • Untainted victory!
  • Unblemished victory!
  • Choice victory!
  • Game Over, Man.
  • To play using the mouse!

Click on the "A, B or C" buttons to attack.

Click on joystick pads to move forward,

backward or duck.

  • During the game the joystick controls your player's moves. (We have no idea what it does on its time off.)
  • To play using the keyboard!

Press "A" to move backward.

Press "S" to duck.

Press "D" to move forward.

Press "Q, W or E" to attack.

  • Yes, this is it, the one and only (BIG ECHO) STOOGE FIGHTER 3!


  • They aren't coin slots!
  • No, the cheat sheet isn't going to let you cheat through this.
  • Nothing you can do with this sucker. It's fried.
  • The crack maintenance crew must be tied up. This slot needs some work.
  • You have no real need for charred goods at this juncture.
  • Looks like some loopy doofus tried to light their cigar with a phaser. Bet that wasn't a pretty sight.
  • The elevator's already here. Walk your lazy can over and climb in if you want to use it.
  • The buttons serve to summon the elevator from the lower floor.
  • That's the protective cage. Not for protecting the elevator, rather for protecting you from yourself.
  • What's wrong, don't your hands feel gritty enough already?
  • Great carpet. This is definitely no place to lose a contact lens.
  • They're as strong as they are tacky-looking. You're not getting through one of those without an invitation.
  • They look more like cell doors than hotel room doors. It's kind of a Motel 3 meets Riker's look.
  • It's the elevator you rode up in.
  • The floor indicator lights above the elevator, while decorative, seem to serve no actual purpose since you've only seen this elevator go to one other floor. Who's the art designer on this project anyway?
  • One thing that does work here is the lighting. Too bad. This is one place you really don't want to see that well.
  • Hey there, Pal. Got a second? Me and my friend here was wondering something.
  • Fire away. What did you want to know?
  • Well, we was wondering if you'd have any objection to us pounding you senseless.
  • Grab him and let's get moving. I gotta report in soon.
  • Can't read that one but it does look like something you once read in a fortune cookie.
  • Yes, I'll bet the leaves would make a wonderfully aromatic tea, a fine spice for cooking, or a most soothing poultice for pulsing, flaring 'rhoids.
  • Maybe they're supposed to look that way, but this plant looks like it was dead and buried a long time ago.
  • Just as you are about to insert the keycard so you can go inside and check out your new digs, you notice those two goony-looking dudes from the lobby walking in your direction at a rather deliberate pace. Perhaps they're going to welcome you to the place or show you where the ice machine is.
  • Uncool. This card has apparently expired. You never did get to see the room you paid for. Oh well, chances are you really didn't miss anything.
  • It's the hotel's not-so-elegant upstairs hallway.
  • Don't, you'll smudge the highly polished window. (Yeah, right. Even you can clean a window better than that.)
  • A sign in the hazy distance indicates the presence of some huge conglomerate.
  • Even though the idea of acquiring a souvenir swatch of the Dew Beam Inn excites you, you come to your senses and move on. (You didn't actually come to your senses. You just forgot what you were doing.)
  • The walls are covered with a thick carpet-like material, perhaps to drown out noise. What kind of noise might come from this place? That's something you'd be better off not thinking about.
  • The window offers you a prime view of the baby-spew-brown skyline of Polysorbate LX.
  • Nope. Doesn't work in this one.


  • Hey!
  • He ignores you. Get used to it.
  • He's too far away or doesn't care.
  • No, that wouldn't be wise.
  • Oh, I forgot. We don't do wisdom in these games.
  • You consider it, but decide it's something best not done.
  • Bad idea.
  • Bad idea. Let's pretend you didn't seriously consider that.
  • What is that? It looks like a punk grasshopper. What would Darwin think of this place?
  • That guy looks like a walking green fleshbulb and his eyes look like filaments, and ... WHOA!!! Must be a janitorial flashback!
  • Check out the knuckles on that thing. This planet is starting to remind you of some sort of genetic playground.
  • Not unlike your fellow humans, they pay you no mind.
  • There's got to be an optics problem with that machine. I look, uh, partially digested.
  • Good thing you didn't opt for that second set of prints after all. Guess that guy won't be filing any complaints with the Portable Business Association.
  • You pop a coin in the slot and climb on in.
  • All right! I'm looking pretty good. Fire away.
  • It's unmoved by your touch.
  • How much pain are you willing to subject yourself to? Weren't those first pictures bad enough? I know, what a dumb question. You've been doing it for years. Why change now?
  • It's one of those new Qodrac mobile photo booths. I heard they were beta-testing those.
  • It's just that strange photo booth again.
  • Let's not and say we did.
  • It's one of those Bjorn guys. It's so cute when they talk about assimilating everyone.
  • YES!!! ... Uh, I mean, Mr. Wilco, I'm most pleased you've chosen to do business with us. You're just in time, too. I have another party on his way interested in the same item. Oh well, his loss.
  • Well, I'll take that off your hands.
  • Uh, now, per our agreement, here's your cheat sheet. I'm certain you'll find the game much more interesting now.
  • Also, you look like you could use this fish.
  • Enjoy, Mr. Wilco. I have, uh, real important business in another part of town. Be seeing you.
  • Oh, by the way, I'd appreciate if you'd not mention our meeting to anyone. Some of those purple-skulled old stockholders really hold a grudge, okay? Buh-bye.
  • Look at him. Do you really think that's a wise idea?
  • Elmo has definitely taken a turn for the worse. You'd like to think it was your exit from the admittedly captive rank of that off-world sweat-orb, Scumsoft Inc. It was probably something dumb like a compulsion for pet projects or personally beneficial programs over those things important to the company as a whole. Nah, that couldn't be it.
  • No! Can it be? It is! It's Elmo Pug, the former CEO of Scumsoft. Hard times have hit him like a ball peen hammer between the, uh, eyes. Maybe there is a karma fairy.
  • Say, you look familiar. Didn't I kick your butt in a huge robot once?
  • Oh, yeah, that. I hoped to forget that. It was the beginning of my undoing. I was a laughingstock around the company in the final days of Scumsoft. Oh well, if that hadn't gotten me, some of my other creative management techniques would have.
  • In looking at the big picture, I suppose that arrangement left me with all of my physical assets intact. Not a single other thing, unfortunately. I'm humiliated to admit that I have, on rare occasion, resorted to selling cheat sheets for arcade games.
  • I've got to maintain a fairly, uh, modest profile, I guess you could say. Time heals wounds and all that. Plus, maybe I can avoid a premature termination.
  • (BORED) Wow, that's all very interesting.
  • And very boring, if you don't mind my saying. What I want to know is, can you sell me a cheat sheet for Stooge Fighter 3?
  • Well, I think I may be able to facilitate that. I may have one in stock. Okay, here's what I need from you: a nice new bottle of Coldsorian Brandy. If you can deliver that, I think we can call it a deal.
  • My people ... I mean, I'll be waiting to take delivery from you so that we can put a bow on this deal. Catch you later.
  • I hope you're here to remit your portion of the business arrangement. We need to put this thing to bed. Otherwise, you should leave. I do have other contacts interested.
  • He blows you off since your business has been completed. How corporate of him.
  • Get out of my face or I'll puke on your boots!
  • It would be wise to avoid that foul fluid.
  • Trapped quantities of atmospheric discharge fill depressions in the street surface. The combination of H2O and atmospheric toxins helps to create a delightful reflective sheen.
  • I can't take him like that. Find something cool to put him in. The last thing I need is for him to thaw before I take him in.
  • Uh, Buddy, maybe you can help me out. I'm trying to track down this endodroid. I'm an Endodroid Runner. I know I don't look so hot but I'm in disguise, you know?
  • In disguise? Yeah, you do look disguised. I just don't know what like. Hey, here's a tip. Think seriously about a flea dip.
  • I could really use your help gettin' this one. I've had a helluva time trackin' him down.
  • You've gotta help me. Tell you what. If you can find and immobilize this bionic beer opener, it's worth fifty buckazoids to ya'. What do you say to that?
  • I've scoured this dung heap and haven't seen synthetic hide nor hair of him. All that's left to check is that bar. I'd go in there myself, ya' see, but I've had a little misunderstanding with the management. No biggie. I'm sure it'll blow over soon.
  • Anyway, can you help me out? Whaddaya say? Fifty buckazoids. And if you don't mind me sayin' it, you look like you could use it. So how about it?
  • Well, I don't know. What's this endodroid thing look like? And why do you want it?
  • Well, he's about your height, only maybe a few inches higher.
  • And I'd say about your weight, give or take 60 pounds or so. But then, that's just probably because of that stuff he's made of. Kind of a liquid metal thing, but that's not important. He's got a crewcut and I think he was wearin' a long dark coat. Has a strange accent.
  • But why do you want him?
  • Oh, he made some people mad.
  • How?
  • Oh, I guess he sort of jumped out of his program and kind of killed and/or mangled a score or so of co-workers and, more importantly, management personnel. A big no-no.
  • No big deal. I just got to take him in for analysis and processing. It could help pull me out of my, uh, unfortunate cash flow situation. And most importantly, it can mean fifty buckazoids for you. Whaddaya say?
  • Well, I could use the buckazoids. I'll see what I can do.
  • Great! You won't regret it. You're gonna need this datacorder. It's been modified to only be sensitive to certain unique components like droidium, something only an endodroid would be composed of. This'll help you root him out. Good luck! Uh, I mean, let me know when you've got him.
  • Thanks. I've gotta go check in with the home office. I'll check back out here a little later to see how you're comin' along.
  • Hmm. I wonder if you ... nah. What was I thinkin'?
  • Are you crazy? Let him get his own.
  • Here's a hint: avoid direct contact with beings with personal hygiene worse than your own.
  • Here's your cubed compadre. Where's my fifty buckazoids?
  • No bull?! You really got him, eh? Uh, I mean, good job.
  • Yeah, I really got him. And I could really use my fifty buckazoids.
  • Tell you what. I'll pay you when they pay me.
  • No. I need the money now, or I let the guy thaw right here, right now.
  • Now, just a minute! You don't wanna do that! Hold on to your alimentary contents! I got it here. I got it here.
  • Here, you happy? I'll just be taking that tray. It's been a special treat doin' business with you.
  • That's a real nice tray. How proud you must be!
  • It's that runner guy.
  • This guy looks like he should be standing watch around one of those barrels. He has a bit of a nervous look about him.
  • Just find the endodroid, little guy. I'll talk to you later.
  • He seems to be anxious to get somewhere else and ignores you.
  • He gives you a long look, then exhibits a facial expression not unlike that of one who has just found some special treat stuck underneath the table.
  • I can't take him like that. Find something cool to put him in. The last thing I need is for him to thaw before I take him in.


  • You give the bell a pass with your hand. The manager doesn't exactly spring to life in response, but he does stir a bit and grants you a segment of one eye.
  • An electronic proximity sensor-activated bell, probably used to signal for attention, rests on the counter.
  • Yes, it's tough to fight the urge, but you're on vacation. Leave the threadbare, spew-strewn carpet alone.
  • Nice carpet. It's hard to decide which wear patterns are more intriguing -- those created by decades of feet and hoofs, or those created by the rodent population.
  • Don't bother. The best upholsterers in Tijuana couldn't help with these things.
  • The couch and chair seem to be made of some of the universe's finest Elveteen material, the official velvet of the Presley Estate.
  • Those are some interesting-looking dudes. Must be a couple of real losers since they seem to be dateless. Of course, that won't be a problem for you once word gets around that you've hit the planet.
  • Can you believe he actually thinks that?
  • You give the counter a tap, mistakenly assuming that the being behind it actually cares what you want.
  • The desk, while mimicking some control console look, serves as not much more than a place for the desk clerk to rest his heavily-bunioned hind feet.
  • It's empty. Without content. Void of mass -- a state you're familiar with.
  • It says "If you have a buckazoid, give a buckazoid; if you need a buckazoid take a buckazoid." Not too surprisingly, it's empty.
  • Hey! Where you goin', Son? That's for paying customers only.
  • An elevator. Boy, this place has everything.
  • Forget it. I don't give no discounts no matter who you belong to.
  • I'm sure he'd like that, but you'd better hang on to what you've got. You never know when you'll need it.
  • Okay, Son. You just scribble your ol' Bill Shatner on the register screen and I'll get your keycard. It's as fine a room as you'll find on this orb.
  • You have a brief moment of what you think is cleverness.
  • Okay, here's your keycard. Don't lose it. Room 1220 J. Up the elevator.
  • Fronzel Neekburm. If I had a buckazoid for every time I've seen that name I'd be sittin' pretty. I could afford one of those fancy furlined doughnut thingies ... uh, what was I sayin'?
  • Anyway, enjoy your stay. If you need anything, don't hesitate to tell someone.
  • Gee, thanks. Say, could you tell me where ...
  • I'm a real busy guy, Son. You got any questions, why dontcha just go find the Chamber of Commerce and talk to them? I'm sure they'll be glad to help you out. Be seeing ya.
  • Hey, what's the deal?! Come back when you get some more allowance, Sonny.
  • That's not recommended. That'll either get an appendage removed, or a date you really don't want.
  • That's the manager of this little slice o' heaven. He looks like he's an expert on energy conservation -- mainly his.
  • The only thing that really talks to him is money.
  • He seems to be ignoring you.
  • Uh, excuse me. I'd like a room, please.
  • REALLY?! I mean, uh, really? Well I think we got one er two for a couple a hundred buckazoids a night -- IN ADVANCE, you understand.
  • (SMUGLY) I believe I have a prepaid reservation provided me by StarCon.
  • I've got no reservations from any StarCon. I got no reservations, period! I do a cash business. You want a room, cough up the buckazoids.
  • So that's, uh, two hundred? Well, okay.
  • Two hundred? Don't you listen, Son? I said THREE hundred. That's three hundred a night. And that don't include any weird pets. (THEN QUIETLY) Them's extra.
  • I could've sworn you said ...
  • You calling me a liar? I don't need no guff from the likes of you. This is the finest lodging on the planet, Son. If you don't like the prices you can just take your sorry pinkish carcass outta here.
  • Well, uh, three hundred? Okay. Uh, but give me your finest room then.
  • The finest room. Yeah, right. (SNICKERS TO HIMSELF) You got it, Buckaroo. The best in the house. (Hee) Comin' right up. Pay up and we're in business.
  • I'm busy, Son. When you give me 300 buckazoids, then we'll talk. I'm real busy. See ya.
  • Listen, I got no time allocated for deadbeats. I'm a busy executive. You want a room, you gotta shell out the units. Don't bug me unless you're serious about doin' some business. Now beat it. Tourists! My job would be so much easier without 'em.
  • Nah, I don't think so. We're pretty good about letting you carry a lot of junk around, but you really don't need this.
  • At some time in a life that might have existed eons ago, these ghosts of flora past might have been called plants.
  • Mother Teresa, the Pope, and Jimmy Carter could all talk to this plant until they were blue in the face and beating on each other, and it would still do no good.
  • Hey! Keep your grubby mitts off that! Have a nice day.
  • That's the inn's transaction register.
  • Nice place, if you're a fan of dives.
  • The proprietor will never give up the remote.


  • I'm sure you'd love to be able to play with it. You've always wanted to. That just isn't on the agenda this game, Roger.
  • That one there's a beaut. Has a dang airbag built right in. Great for when your beast's motorskills just aren't up to par.
  • Oh, they were designed during the days of warp drive testing. They didn't always pick clean courses to test run in them days and there would be an occasional warp speed asteroid strike which, of course, resulted in a seriously non-graceful, uh ... deceleration, you might say.
  • What's this? Rabbit ears for a computer monitor? Eh, that's fresh.
  • Don't touch that sign, Son.
  • Now, wait a minute. There's somethin' familiar about you.
  • Brain Dead(tm) products have been a staple of the homebuilt being hobbyist for decades now. They make a fine line of adaptor plugs which allow for cross-species component swapping. Means you'll be able to pick up parts anywhere other beings exist. Nice deal, eh?
  • They also make a pretty fine "moddie". Get tired of what kind of mood your droid, or spouse for that matter, is in, why you just slap in one of those babies and bingo, you can modify them into a whole new attitude. Find a wife-type who won't pay some big buckazoids for that!
  • Too bad the sale of them is illegal. About all I do is trade for 'em. It's one of them loopholes, guess you could say. Kinda developed a hobby of collectin' the suckers.
  • Now you know what happened to the infamous R2 line of droids. They've been reduced to carrying out the most trivial of tasks. Fester's using one for a Genblood blender. How sad.
  • The R2 line of droids seemed like the hottest thing going in their day. Then they that found that one little flaw in the programming. Unfortunately, the princess' personal life will never be quite the same.
  • The drawers seem to be crammed with moddies -- plug-in modification implants -- and the various adapters necessary to make them work universally.
  • Fester has quite a collection of these, which is surprising. The sale of those things was banned years ago.
  • Don't screw with it. It's already on its last leg.
  • It's a marketing device for Dumb(tm). They design and manufacture a wide variety of implants, prosthetics, and conversion attachment kits. Hopefully, their product is better made than their sign is.
  • Hello there, Mr. Blatz. I think I have something you might be interested in.
  • Think so, eh?
  • Oh, I really think you'll find it interesting.
  • Oooooo!!
  • Why, I'd love to take that off your hands.
  • Of course, you realize that it's illegal to sell those, but I could trade you for something. Look around and see what interests you.
  • I could really use a cyberspace jack.
  • Tell ya' what, I'll trade you for one of those fine specimens in the case. Whadda ya' say?
  • No, I want the jack or it's no deal.
  • Oh, now take it easy, Sonny. I think we can do business.
  • Here ya' go.
  • I'm glad you see it my way.
  • It's been a pleasure. Take care, Fester. I gotta fly.
  • The past few years have been no kinder to Fester than all the previous ones. He still has that nasal cavity-molded look with no discernible skeletal features.
  • Fester's from a rare rhinosupial species where the babies are born, but climb into their parents' cavernous noses where they continue to grow until they fall out from their sheer weight. (Or from a real good sneeze from their parental unit.)
  • Yikes! Can it be? Why, yes, it is. It's Fester, Fester Blatz. Former owner and proprietor of Fester's World O' Wonders, a cheesy little tourist trap on the desert planetoid of Phleebhut.
  • The t-shirt looks -- and, unfortunately, smells -- like the same one he wore on Phleebhut. He has the expression of someone enjoying a permanent wedgie.
  • He has aged somewhat. Looks like he's grown a few more neck rings. These last few years have been rough on him. From what you remember of him, he used to be kind of an aqua blue. Now he looks like a used LungLiner(tm) or the color of a Vorillian miner's loogie.
  • Howdy, Stranger. The name's Blatz, Fester Blatz. Welcome to Implants-N-Stuff. Go ahead. Have a look around at some of the most interesting replacement body components this lovely planetoid has to offer.
  • Oh, a nice fresh salespitch.
  • I have just the thing for you.
  • Go ahead and look around, Pardner. I'll be glad to answer any questions you might have about my fine line of merchandise. Yes, siree. Have a look.
  • Well, I'll tell ya', I kind of hate the idea of openin' that up right now. Ya see, we had a power outtage a few weeks back and my, uh, service hasn't gotten over here to clean it out yet. That cranial fluid is some skank spew when it warms up. Phew!
  • Well, come on back by next week and maybe we'll have some.
  • Yeah, sometimes when you do a lot of cranial work, you gotta replace the fluid so the old brain isn't just bouncin' around in there like a BB. But then, you're probably already used to that.
  • This one's labelled "Fresh". By the looks of things around here, fresh is a VERY relative term.
  • You really have no need for one of those.
  • Well, actually, you might look into an upgrade sometime soon. You just don't need any of these right now. More important tasks await your attention.
  • Yep, it's the new Neebike Pump Brain(tm)! Only one on the planetoid -- uninstalled, that is. These babies are great when you've left the lab in a hurry and forgotten those darn cranial measurements. Stuff one of these in that cranial hatch, pump, pump, pump, pump, and wham! You're in business.
  • Oh, by the way, those aren't real webs in the case there -- why, I, uh ... forgot to take those down from the Halloween sale is all. Yeah. I wouldn't want you to think I was some slob running a cheesy joint here.
  • That's not too wise. One should be prudent when one has so little to sacrifice in the first place.
  • Yeah, this is the only place on the planet to get a good lobe piercing, I tell ya'. And even though we don't have to, we do use only LorShann quality body part piercing products. Less chance of pus build-up and drainage that way. That stuff tends to dull the urithrium coating on the hardware.
  • Don't mess with that. It's old.
  • Wow, an [[Apple ][+]] running Biorhythms! You thought IBM had rounded all those up and landfilled them decades ago back when Apple started the push to open home computing to the public, making it fun and accessible.
  • Careful, Boy. You don't want to be prickin' yourself with one of those. They aren't approved for first species use. We pick 'em up used from organ pirates who specialize in harvesting stuff from battle zones. Wouldn't want you to go mentionin' that to anyone, you understand.
  • Them's syringes you can use with lidocaine, if you got some. Sometimes you gotta give ol' Butch a jump-start right at first.
  • So this is where old Fester ended up after the total collapse of the never-thriving tourist trade on that sandy planetoid Phleebhut. He seems to know how to land on his feet -- no matter how fungally challenged they may be.
  • Well geez, Guy, I seem to be a little short on these right now. Slide on by in a month or two and I should be all stocked up again. Sorry about that.
  • Yeah, I just got them in a few months ago. Fresh from the harvesting facility. Genuine Dumb(tm) brand cranial stalks. Perfect for when just one or two accidental nicks from those amateur scalpels can render your homebuilt being useless as lips on a ... oh, never mind.
  • Just rip out that old stalk and slam in one of these little beauties and your homebuilt being will be carrying out your bidding in no time -- guaranteed!
  • It's empty. Picking up useless items like that will only serve to clutter up your inventory window ... er, I mean pocket.
  • An empty tank of Genblood sits in the dust. A generic synthetic blood which was originally designed for use as a temporary blood substitute in the event of traumatic loss, it has become a favorite in the u-build-a-beast brotherhood.


  • So much for the keyring.
  • From Datacorder to Homing Beacon -- Fast!
  • Yes, you too can make a homing beacon from simple household goods. Chief among the devices you can use is the datacorder, which with a few adjustments sends out a powerful signal to potential rescuers who could be light years away.
  First, open your datacorder. Inside you'll find chips, irk settings, and plates. If you correctly alter these settings, you'll soon be home by the fire with a cup of nog. Of course, any mistakes could result in a barbecue with you as the entree. But let's not worry about that!
  We'll describe the details in the next issue!
  • EMail Shopping With No Buckazoids
  • EShop with absolutely nothing in the accounts. It's easy ... when you know the system.
  First, random-gen approximately 32 four-by-four numbers and pick a month and year. These will be your challenge charge cards. Make up a name (NOT Neekburm, please!) and start calling ECatalog stores.
  The idea is to make the calls fast, and give them the challenge card numbers before they can trace the call. As most hackoids know, there are so many cards out there that the probability of one of your challenge cards being a used number is practically 100 percent!
  Remember, don't skimp. You're spending other people's buckazoids, so go for it!
  • We've all heard the hype. Mired EMag is the hottest, hippest, hip-hoppinest thing to happen to journalism since Guttenburg invented that big printer thingie. But is it the EMag of the future, or is it just another CyberVogue knockoff with some fancy schmancy art?
  You be the judge. The last issue featured an article on SmartDrugStores on Celine-Dion; a list of the latest technogibberish; and a review of Waterworld. Are these subjects cool, or do they leave you cold?
  • Chances are you're too young to remember a quaint little movie about a fellow named Marty McFly, but he and his friend Doc started a trend that has become a popular pursuit among time-traveling hobbyists: making time machines out of DeLorean cars.
  DeLoreans aren't easy to find these days: they went out of fashion when John DeLorean went in the slammer. But if you have the luck to come across one of these babies, the universe and all its time zones -- and we mean ALL its time zones -- can be yours. Happy hunting!
  • Since the dawn of time, men and women have searched for the multiple organism. Some say that it is just a myth. Others claim that it existed at one time, but that the effects of toxic waste, pollution, and electromagnetic forces throughout the universe have made the multiple organism extinct.
  This writer, for one, has searched all her adult life for the excitement of contact with one of these elusive creatures. The thought of seeing a multiple organism sends a thrill through me. I hope with my entire essence that multiple organisms do exist on some level, and that one day I may meet up with one of them, just to say "hi."
  • You won't be needing any empty cans. A gas mask won't help you in this game.
  • You can't reach the can in your present predicament.
  • Your captors have obviously been drinking mass quantities of that new imported beer, Tecate Wormhole.
  • Considering who else has drunk from that can, you would be foolhardy to apply your lips to the same surface.
  • Even if you were loose, you wouldn't want to swap spit with the can of AlanDean Foster's.
  • You can't reach her from here! Drat the luck!
  • This alien woman looks to be in very bad shape. Her pupils are fixed and dilated. Her body is stiff, almost as if she's dead, and her skin looks tight and puffy as if bodily gases are building up inside her. Bandages and patches appear in profusion all over her, and some of her seams look like they're about to give way.
  • You make a mental note to come back and rescue this poor woman.
  • I'm Roger Wilco of the SCS DeepShip 86. Can I get you anything? Water? Food? Some duct tape? ArmorAll? Are you okay? You look bloated.
  • Psssst! Maybe if we work together, we can get out of here!
  • She doesn't respond. Perhaps she's a form of life you don't know how to communicate with. Or, more likely, she's purposely ignoring you.
  • Surprisingly, it's a pile of books. Who'd have thought these guys could read?
  • You don't see any way of turning the dehumidifer off.
  • You struggle, but it's simply out of your grasp.
  • Like algebra.
  • This little unit is a portable dehumidifier. When you're a guy like Singent, who sweats like a Bicranial Crudsnorter, you need one of these things going all the time.
  • If you're trying to dry your mouth off, you could always just spit.
  • Your tongue isn't quite long enough to reach that.
  • Your search through the CDs reveals a bunch of typically boring multimedia magazines.
  • A multimedia phone book. Too bad there aren't any phones around here.
  • Successful people managing techniques by Karm Treebis. (Funny -- it's empty.)
  • MF DOS for idiots, morons and feebs.
  • You should have paid attention the first time. This game's budget is way too small to allow me to list all those titles over again.
  • I'd better not try it. He might see me.
  • You're tied up; hence, you can't do that.
  • There seems to be a small pile of CD ROMs sitting here.
  • It's a somewhat damaged CD ROM disc.
  • Even though you may not realize it now, you really don't want to touch the chair where that guy had his posterior placed.
  • This is one of the places those lardmasters rest their bloated gluts.
  • It does nothing until you insert a 3DOA-compatible disc.
  • This optical disc-based multimedia entertainment system has a slew of powerful graphics and audio co-processors, a unique flexible architecture, is extremely high-priced, and plays a half-dozen really bad arcade games.
  • It's called a "3DOA."
  • The computer isn't very sophisticated and does not respond to voice commands.
  • This is the datacorder you got from that endodroid hunter dude.
  • The desk feels more or less as flimsy as it looks.
  • The desk looks rubbery and flimsy.
  • (It must be one of those floppy desks!)
  • You don't see much of anything worth taking here.
  • The stuff up there certainly looks interesting from down here, but it's out of reach right now.
  • The desk is littered with juvenile multimedia comic books.
  • Oh, excuse me very much, multimedia "graphic novels."
  • It's apparently programmed to be locked, perhaps to prevent unauthorized entry.
  • It is non-functional. I'll bet you're really bummed about that.
  • If you'd get up off your lazy, er, posterior, perhaps you could perform that act.
  • This keypad undoubtedly controls the doorway.
  • You're reasonably certain that this door won't budge without a keycard of some sort.
  • There is a massive door leading into the next room.
  • Hey, open 'er up and let's jam.
  • Yeah, right. Like that'll work. You've been kidnapped. Remember?
  • It's the arrow for scrolling down.
  • You carefully lay the rug on the floor. Even though you were never known for your interior decorating talents, you feel very satisfied with the location you have chosen.
  • We wanted to give you the bird, but the censors wouldn't let us.
  • A bathtub toy sits on the floor. You find this very confusing in light of the fact that there's no olfactory evidence that your captor has ever taken a bath.
  • This button ejects whatever CD is in the machine, thus the clever naming convention.
  • Smooth move! You've got his keyring.
  • This button allows you to go to a given location on the CD.
  • You are now a proud nail owner.
  • You don't know what that is, but you keep seeing it above people's garage doors. It must be some sort of anti-theft device!
  • It's just out of reach.
  • It's the keyring that doofus hung on the wall after the other doofus left.
  • There's no time to mess with that. You have escaping to do.
  • A desk lamp casts a sickly glow over your captor. Or maybe the lamp is off and it's your captor who's casting the sickly glow.
  • It's the CD ROM drive for the 3DOA machine.
  • You now possess the moddie.
  • It's a burlesque moddie!
  • A nail protrudes from the wall. How novel.
  • This symbol is all the rage among teenagers in the quadrant. None of the adults knows what it means, but it's shorthand for "No sign of life!"
  • A beautiful thick shag carpet of Pelvis Brelsford, the rock 'n' roll programming sensation, adorns the east wall of this grungy apartment.
  • A beautiful thick shag carpet of Pelvis Brelsford.
  • The Pelvis rug is arranged nicely on the floor.
  • This poster is from that new graphic novel series about the sewer worker who doubles as a psychic investigator. You think it's called "GABRIEL NORTON."
  • Sorry, but the posters have to stay.
  • Besides, who needs posters you can't unroll the next day.
  • This button is designed to print what is on the screen.
  • Too bad it doesn't work.
  • I'm not touching that, and you can't make me!
  • Way too disgusting!
  • I'm not gonna put my lips on that!
  • It looks like a plug receptor.
  • Your body is now carrying a nice static charge.
  • You're already carrying enough energy to power a small planetoid. You couldn't generate more energy if you were wearing a polyester leisure suit.
  • Good thinking! The nail proves to be just what you needed to free yourself from those handcuffs.
  • Don't get all excited, Little Red Riding Hood. You aren't out of those woods yet.
  • Unlike before, the room no longer gives off a subsonic vibration.
  • Either that or the batteries in someone's Pro Shiatsu have worn out.
  • The room seems to be vibrating very slightly. This would probably indicate a damping field in operation somewhere close by.
  • Either that or someone downstairs is using a Pro Shiatsu.
  • You have no idea where this place is, but it's nice to see that "grunge" has finally hit the interior decorating industry.
  • You get a jump on your senility by talking to inanimate objects NOW rather than in fifty years.
  • What do you want to do -- give him a nice massage? Wise up! This guy values you less than StarCon does.
  • He doesn't look so tough now. Still, I have no urge to touch him.
  • Wow! The static energy you built up discharged, frying lard boy's circuitry! Did you actually think of that or was it just luck?
  • It's one of those wads of lard you ran into at the inn.
  • What are you going to talk to him about, the weather?!
  • Now just sit there and be still and be quiet, Little Man. I've got some things to finish, before I finish you.
  • You puny little scumbag. I can't believe anyone would want you. One thing's for sure; you sure ain't gonna be seein' your home sun ever again.
  • Hey, Nigel, let's get back to it, huh?! We got things to do and places to go.
  • How groovy, they've got a neon sign for Spore Beer: "Spore yourself a tall, frosty one!"
  • Clever! They're using an old video cable spool as a table! Gee, don't let any college kids hear about THIS, they'll ALL want to do it!
  • Teddy Shmuxpin, a popular children's toy, sits on the floor. If you're weren't a popular child, you didn't get one.
  • Hey, what the phu...! I don't want to see you move another inch or I'm gonna slice ya' into nice little bite-sized pieces. Now can it!
  • Table of Contents
  • That's one of those devices for catching wayward audio-video signals from distant galaxies. You once saw a horribly violent transmission on one of these, where strange-looking aliens mercilessly struck each other in vulnerable areas while others looked on in enjoyment.
  • Due to the planetary location of this unit, it can't keep a steady picture for very long. And as is universally known, the local cable company will get around to fixing it at THEIR convenience. And who knows, you might get lucky and get another shopping channel or country/western station in the process.
  • Just watch that MacPherson strut!
  • This the arrow for scrolling up.


  • Hmm. Doesn't seem to work here.
  • Hey! Here's your fish!
  • Thinking it was the churlish moddie, he pops it in place.
  • It's the belt that big guy was wearing.
  • It has a couple of things attached to it.
  • You poke around and look for something useful, but since you're not exactly Mr. Subspace Neurotransmitter Repair Guy, none of it appeals to you.
  • The carton is full of spare parts and tools to keep the Subspace Neurotransmitter in operation: an acetylcholine torch, a bunch of axon terminals, a cell receptor, and a new package of postsynaptic membranes.
  • This box is full of daddies. Daddies are modules which, when inserted into intercranial slots, give the user complete knowledge of whatever topic is programmed into that particular Daddie.
  • You poke and prod amongst the moddies until you find ...
  • ... a moddie labelled "churlish." Being intrigued by the word, you glom it.
  • Incidentally, you might want to look up the word "churlish" before you do anything "stupid."
  • You pick through the carton of moddies and find ...
  • ... nothing else of interest.
  • A box of moddies -- behavioral modification neurocircuit chips -- lies under the desk.
  • You wave at the skyline.
  • Look! Some nerd on the sidewalk thinks you're waving to him! He's waving back! How friendly!
  • Oh, he's got a gun.
  • The cityscape stretches like an immense pestilent rash across the puckered, festering face of Polysorbate LX.
  • Ah, pretty!
  • Yeah, you reach through that damping field and you'll draw back a dripping wad of demolecularized flesh. It does look pretty cool though. Maybe when we have more time we can come back and try it.
  • Dee-licious!
  • Thank goodness. Now that you've got that damping field shut off, you can check out that Damping Field Controller Unit, so that maybe you can shut off that ... that ...
  • Oh yeah. That's a real sound idea! You have no REASON to check out the Damping Field Controller Unit now!
  • This appears to be a Damping Field Controller Unit. At least, it looks like most of the other damping field controller units you've ever seen, and you've seen quite a few.
  • The Damping Field is actually incredibly unaffected by that action.
  • It's a Damping Field.
  • Unfortunately, your brainwave patterns are far too puny to benefit from even this unit's powerful positronic amplifiers.
  • A massive subspace neurotransmitter fills the desk. Amplified by brainwave patterns, neurotransmissions are not affected by local damping fields.
  • But you already knew that, right?
  • Pushing the button seems to have caused a reduction of humming in the room. Perhaps you've killed the damping field.
  • While that's an interesting idea, it won't help.
  • There's a remote control button of some kind on this thing attached to the belt.
  • With the Damping Field deactivated, these lights are warm but otherwise create no strange tingly feelings of sudden death.
  • The archway glows with the energy of a damping field.
  • (No wonder it's so humid in here.)
  • That isn't within reach.
  • A small decorative novelty lamp displays bolts of electronic discharge. They were quite the rage a century or two ago.
  • Another one of those formerly trendy bolt discharge lamps sits on the console top.
  • There is nothing wrong with the subspace neurotransmitter control controller. Do not attempt to adjust the controller. We are controlling transmission. We will control the horizontal. We will control the vertical. We can change your mind to a soft blur, or sharpen it to crystal clarity.
  • This controller controls the controls on the subspace neurotransmitter.
  • Geez, is this guy a control freak, or what?
  • It's the one called Nigel -- the larger of the two mass-laden brothers.
  • Well, well, well, the worm is out of the hole, so ...
  • You have to ask yourself, "Do I feel lucky?"
  • Well, do I punk? ...
  • Go away.
  • You take it into possession.
  • It looks like one of those nifty Personal Grooming Assistants.
  • You briefly consider adjusting the Serotonin Re-Uptake Inhibitor, but hey, you've been kidnapped. No way you're going to provide free maintenance service to these guys.
  • This is a Serotonin Re-Uptake Inhibitor for the Subspace Neurotransmitter.
  • Don't go messing with it, you could create a chemical imbalance and depress an entire planet! (Ooh, did we just catch a glimpse of Space Quest Seven's plot?)
  • Don't remove this poster, it's covering up a mistake in the background painting.
  • It's just another picture of a heavenly body.
  • You've never been a big C/W fan. In fact, it is your belief that country and western music was outlawed hundreds of years ago in an attempt to reduce alcoholism.
  • Nothing happens. Maybe something needs to be plugged into the plug opening.
  • It looks like a plug receptor.
  • The room seems to be vibrating ever so slightly, the telltale residue of a local damping field.
  • The room is no longer giving off that low-level hum.
  • This appears to be some sort of control room. There's a landing platform beyond the damping field induction coils in the archway.
  • Boy, this terrace is a nice change from the stink-laden confines of that apartment.
  • As if you could, anyway.
  • This Monoamine Oxidase Inhibitor brightens up an otherwise depressing room.


  • Roger, you're enough of a mess when you're straight. Getting a buzz will certainly not help.
  • These cans of Heinleinekin's have been sitting here since Lazarus! "Heinleinekin's ... The Strange Beer in a Strange Can."
  • Behind Pa is what looks to be some special stock. It's not quite the rocket fuel grade dreck to be found on the regular shelves.
  • Weekends were made for "Frontlob", and you wouldn't mind removing a few yourself.
  • It's just more stuff you don't need.
  • The shelves of this interesting establishment hold just about every kind of swill a buzz junkie could want. Of course, whether or not you would survive the stuff is another question.
  • This is the old guy's protective checkstand. Makes you feel real secure about the area.
  • It's the small counter at the outside edge of the protective cage.
  • What, you don't recognize that door? You entered this place through it just a short time ago.
  • The drawer is Pa's way of transferring things from his side to your side and vice versa.
  • This little flesh-wad looks familiar. You wonder what he's doing here. Must have been a victim of the telecommunications wars.
  • It's just some green stuff.
  • Were it working, this device it, as noted on its top, would supply ice.
  • Just by looking at this place, you should realize that messing with store equipment is a truly unsafe idea.
  • A camera covers every square centimeter around the clerk just for security measures. It's amazing what kinds of crimes people will commit to get some of Pa's special stock.
  • Yikes, those liquid crystal displays ... I still have nightmares about them.
  • Not a good idea. First, you're on R&R. Secondly, based on what you've seen so far, you really don't have the stomach for The Babes of Polysorbate.
  • Interesting magazines like "This Old Planetoid" and "The Babes of Polysorbate" occupy this space.
  • There's nothing of interest there.
  • Screw with those and Pa'll raise your voice an octave or two.
  • Convex mirrors give the proprietor a nearly total view of the whole store. He's able to keep an eye out for thieving, lowlife, scumsucking maggots who might try to liberate some of his stock minus payment. Right now, he thinks you fit that profile.
  • I'd like a bottle of your Coldsorian Brandy, please.
  • Well, so you're interested in the good stuff, eh?
  • I'll just take that twenty, thank you. Haven't sold much of this stuff lately except to some sorry looking little pud. Oh, hey, that reminds me. He still owes me some money. Doh, I can't believe I fell for that scam. Oh well, enjoy. (Sucker!)
  • Crud. It looks like I still don't have enough money. This is embarrassing.
  • On Polysorbate, it appears that you only have to pay once for a purchase.
  • Pa Conshohocken sits behind the counter by his favorite possession, something he values greater than his own life, the cash register. Pa's been in business for quite a while, as his grizzled look might attest.
  • So, Pa, what's the stuff behind you?
  • Oh, that, eh? Why, that there's the good stuff, Sonny. I got some real fine stuff back here. Oh yeah, I do. That's Coldsorian Brandy. That's what that is. Best available in these parts here. Now, that's way outta your price range, I'm sure. It goes for 20 buckazoids per.
  • What? What's the problem, Sonny? Havin' trouble with the bottle? Oh yeah, those highly complex twist tops can really boggle a mind, can't they? Just grab the bottle with one hand and twist the top with the other. You'll get the hang of it. Now run along. I'm a real busy man.
  • Hi there.
  • Howdy there, Pardner. The name's Pa, Pa Conshohocken. Yeah, that's my name. I'm the proprietor of this here establishment here. Now, anything I can sell ya', why, you just let me know. But if ya' steal anything, eh, I'll be forced to kind of kill ya'. Welcome.
  • That sounds fair.
  • Got the twenty there, Buster? Otherwise, you can swill thruster drippings with the rest of the deadbeats around here. I don't mean that in a bad way, mind you.
  • Run along. I'm a real busy man.
  • Even as uninteresting as it looks, you still don't want it.
  • It's most uninteresting.
  • Despite the enticing description, you really don't need that.
  • This is the interior of Boot Liquor. In keeping with most of the rest of the area, there are absolutely no frills in the decor.
  • You really don't need those.
  • A stack of papers lay unattended on the floor. Apparently, Pa doesn't get in a big hurry to put stuff away. The headline reads, "Lindbergh Baby Kidnapped!"


  • You have frozen wisely.
  • Yeah, that is great improvement. Look much better now.
  • Well, he did warn you!
  • You go now and I don't rearrange your organs.
  • They're just some no-deposit empties. I don't know what comes down here but these definitely have some sort of deposit.
  • Cartons of really boring stuff like cocktail napkins and the like populate a good portion of the area down here.
  • The ceiling is cluttered with wires and conduits. Looks like some of those things do go somewhere.
  • Crates scattered around the basement hold bottles, both empty and full. By the looks of the dust, these are the least popular brands.
  • The proximity display is dark now.
  • Yikes! The datacorder's going crazy. All three LEDs are lit.
  • Two LEDs of the three on the proximity display glow now.
  • Bummer. It looks like your friend has reconstituted. This could be a painful development.
  • Yes, it looks like he's going to beat the ...
  • Yep, he sure did. Boy, that's gotta hurt.
  • Oh, not real smart.
  • This may just be your most humiliating moment ever, although it's hard to tell. There have been so many.
  • It's the endodroid -- and he's repairing himself. Yuck!
  • The endodroid is broken into nice little cube-sized pieces.
  • The endodroid is frozen quite solid.
  • Cool. Laying a solid blow upside the head of this frigid felon has reduced him to cubes. He's not too hard to handle now.
  • Hey, there. So, what's up? Pretty crappy weather we're having, don't you think?
  • Wow, so what's with the hole in your arm? That's ah, that's gotta sting.
  • My, you're a tall one. Uh, is there something I can do for you?
  • He's apparently a social minimalist. His only reaction is the kind of look that makes you want to run to the safety of your closet and assume your all-too-familiar fetal position.
  • What're you going to do, sweep him to death?
  • You quite cleverly whisk the cubed culprit into your dustpan. It's going to be tough to carry him this way, though.
  • It's just your run-of-the-mill basement floor. It keeps you from slipping to the center of the planet. Guess it's doing its job.
  • A lone, bare lightbulb dangles from the ceiling, casting very little good light.
  • It's a small section of pipe, not unlike those commonly found at ice skating accidents.
  • It's a rat.
  • You've found your way to the not-so-spiffy basement of the nightclub. Numerous stock items are stored down here.
  • Frosta la keister, baby!
  • Wow! It worked. This dude's in a deep freeze. But now what are you going to do with him?
  • I wonder if these spiders jump.
  • Stairs lead back to the main floor.
  • This is one of the only open conduits.
  • They won't do you any good. They're made to run off the power supply of an endodroid, one of which you surely are not.
  • The endodroid's home surgery kit sits on the crate, but I suppose you can see that.
  • One small window once allowed light in from the outside.


  • You're not certain but you believe you heard yourself being referred to as "charm free."
  • Sounds good. You know what I'd like?
  • Here's what I'd like.
  • Uh, heh, heh. That's not a very good likeness of you, Pal. What did you do, steal it? Hey, if you was an okay guy, you'd return it to its rightful owner, you know what I mean? And if it is you, Pal, I'd consider killing whoever took it. Ooh, baby, that is ugly!
  • Drink Choices:
  • The bartender is mixing your drink. Leave him alone and solve some puzzles or something.
  • Nah. I'll Pass.
  • Comin' right up, Pal.
  • Special
  • Hey, yeah, yeah, hey there, Guy, come on now, hey. You can't come back here. You want something, you let me know, all right?
  • Hey, Mac, you gotta keep your can on THAT side of the bar, all right? That's the house rules. Don't make me get rough with ya', okay, huh? We're all here to have a good time, right?
  • Drat. It appears that the bartender disconnected your cleverly concocted hose link while you were gone.
  • The bartender, noticing the hose attached to the bent conduit, disconnects it -- much to your chagrin.
  • A quick look indicates that the bartender is physically well-balanced and adroit -- a good combination for this profession. The shirt would further indicate that he has the mentality for it.
  • What can I do for ya there, Fella?
  • Okay, you got it, Pal.
  • You know what? I think I'll pass.
  • I got just the thing for you guys. It's something I don't even give the regulars here. Whaddaya think, eh?
  • What have you got?
  • Well, aside from the obvious stuff which is glaring in your face from the back wall here, I do make some mixed drinks. I mean, if I do say so myself, I make a pretty mean William Gibson, and a pretty good Asimov Cocktail, you know what I mean, huh? Hey, try a Fuzzy Toejam. They seem to be pretty popular with your particular species here.
  • Make me a double Uvula Spritzer, twist of fleck rind. And I want it hacked and whipped. Not like one of those shaken or stirred sissy drinks.
  • Okay, comin' right up, Chief. Listen, this'll take a couple of minutes, but, feast your eyes on the makin' of it, all right?
  • Oh, that's just fine. Take your time, my good man.
  • The large L-shaped bar, what you can see of it, looks quite spiffy. A guy could slide a mug of Keronian Ale miles on that surface.
  • Hey, hey, hey! Back off, here. Only trained professionals like yours truly are allowed to operate the Turbomincer LS.
  • What a boss blender! I'll bet they can make all kinds of foo-foo drinks in that.
  • A wide variety of concoctions fills the shelves behind the bar. There's probably something there to provide a buzz for just about any organic system.
  • Now there's an interesting look. What can be said that isn't painfully obvious?
  • Bet she'll look better come closing time.
  • With a flick of your very supple wrist, you pull the conduit loose from below the valve. Oops.
  • It's solidly in place.
  • An interesting arrangement of conduits creates an almost artistic pattern to the backbar area. It's hard to tell what is merely decorative and what is functional.
  • Geez, Roger. When will you learn? In the past, that kind of behavior has led you to being sliced, diced, compacted, compressed, pureed, digested, inverted, carbogelatinized and other stuff just as interesting. It's a little early in the game to be getting your can creased.
  • She acts as though you don't exist. It's a familiar feeling.
  • I wouldn't. He's busy trying to score. And he's a lot bigger than you. You figure out the consequences of that.
  • Looks like this big furry dude is laying out his best Orlonian pick-up lines for the ice queen. It appears she's not fielding any of them.
  • Their conversation continues uninterrupted by you.
  • Oh, he's real, unfortunately.
  • Impressed by his own perceived magnificence, this wannabe babe magnet stands and just radiates "cool".
  • Can't you see he's working the room here? He's expecting a babe stampede any minute now. His lifespan, no matter how long, will never be enough. But, hey, a guy can dream.
  • You're in a public place. Have some manners!
  • No one here is interested in conversing with you. Get used to it. Don't take it personally. Maybe it's just a species thing.
  • This guy has an interesting cranial configuration.
  • Unlike that popular trunk-bearing pachyderm on that planet Earth, this guy seems to actually be drinking through his trunk. That's means he's drinking through his nose! Yuck!
  • This rather large individual with the headphones seems to have tuned this place out.
  • He can't hear you and, more importantly, probably doesn't want to.
  • The proximity display is dark.
  • You notice that two of the three LEDs on the proximity display of the datacorder are lit.
  • All three lights on the proximity display are lit!
  • This vertical adjustment device offers access to the loft above.
  • The floor has that universal tacky spilled-drink-and-stomach-contents feel to it.
  • The floor has the universal tacky spilled-drink-and-stomach-contents feel to it. No sense in looking. In fact, it would be in your best interests not to.
  • You can't open the refrigeration unit with the hoses connected and stretched tightly across its front.
  • The refrigeration unit blends well with the design scheme.
  • Hey, when did you start knowing things like that?
  • As the sign indicates, it's a restroom. You could use it if you needed to -- which you don't.
  • You pick up the loose end of the hookah hose.
  • And mess up your great hookup job? Nah, you don't want to do that.
  • You marvel at your hookah mastery.
  • The hookah hoses are dangling from the left conduit where you left them.
  • That does it. You've plugged the hose end into the right side conduit, completing the connection. Not bad for a bucket pusher.
  • Yikes! I'll bet even old Fester Blatz hasn't seen one of these.
  • Just the same old chilled stuff.
  • The same chilled beverages are here, along with an ice cube tray of endodroid.
  • The refrigeration unit contains an ice cube tray and some chilled beverages, none of which looks very enticing to you. You have to be careful about what you consume in these universal spaceport bars. One creature's wine is another creature's bile and vice versa.
  • The hookah hose is now attached to the leftmost conduit.
  • Your organic makeup makes exposure to spewing nitro most unwise. There is no market for Rogcicles.
  • That tangled web you wove won't work like that.
  • Hey, that nitro's coming out through this conduit. Better shut the tank off before it's all wasted.
  • Nothing interesting to be seen there.
  • This door leads back out onto the street.
  • The subtle and well-designed lighting scheme distorts dimensional perception and creates an atmosphere conducive to the consumption of the very products this establishment peddles.
  • It's unwise to mess with someone so in need of relief.
  • This guy's the next in line for the restroom. He looks a little anxious.
  • I wouldn't risk talking to one of these folks. They may just turn to face you.
  • It's one of several people dying to get into the restroom.
  • This guy wishes he had a clothes pin right about now.
  • Yep, it's the fourth guy in line for the restroom. Definitely standing room only.
  • Sorry, you can only break it. You aren't checked out in reconnection.
  • Try the other conduit first. Just for fun. Humor me.
  • You complete the connection between the two conduits.
  • That's the conduit you manhandled, you beast.
  • Well, that wasn't too bad for a borderline physical specimen like you. It didn't quite get the job done, though.
  • Nah, you still haven't convinced the door to yield to your obviously superior physical presence.
  • Wow. You really did it. Not exactly the subtlest of entry techniques, but effective. That's pretty macho for the likes of you. Who would've guessed you'd have the makings of a Starsky or a Hutch, or a Tango or a Cash.
  • You probably wonder where that goes.
  • That's the door to the basement. Surely you remember, or is your brain full already?
  • You probably still wonder what's behind it.
  • This is the main floor of the swank lounge, Orion's Belt. This seems to be where things are happening for the slightly seedier beings of the city. As you can see, there's a pretty good cross-section of the regional population represented here.
  • It would appear that, once again, vice is a bit more profitable than most business ventures. This place is almost too hip for the planet -- but then, that's no mean feat given what a total heap this place appears to be.
  • That isn't within reach. That's back in the barkeep's turf.
  • This one doesn't spew anything.
  • Yeow! You quickly close that valve again.
  • Hmmm, there's a small valve on this conduit.


  • It's too heavy to move very far.
  • They seem to be occupied and there is no desire on their part to have you join them. Perhaps they've had their laugh for the day.
  • It's too humiliating to sit alone.
  • The booths contain some of the more low-key patrons.
  • Gee, an empty booth. Perhaps you should clean it.
  • They don't seem able, or at least are unwilling, to converse in your language.
  • If you're going to talk to yourself, at least have the courtesy to find a PRIVATE place.
  • They seem to be in use. Your rudeness would give them no compelling reason not to rearrange your appendages.
  • It's too humiliating to sit alone.
  • The chairs are serving as perches for some fairly inebriated individuals.
  • A few chairs stand in place, fearful that some perilously large payload could nearly engulf them at any moment.
  • The proximity display of the datacorder is dark.
  • One of the three lights on the datacorder's proximity display is lit.
  • Two of the three proximity display LEDs are lit.
  • They merely laugh and say something in another language that you guess is non-flattering, then continue their partying.
  • Boy, that did that make them scamper!
  • Ah, the simple things in life -- the elevator ride. To get to the planet, you were scanned down to the sub-atomic particle, transmitted hundreds of kilometers and then reconstituted in just the same unfortunate fashion in which you were scanned.
  • Despite the incredible technological feat that represents, your big thrill so far on the trip has been the elevator ride. Simple is as simple does.
  • Yes, it does need to be dusted. Don't worry about it.
  • Wow. Fancy.
  • How trendy. Cargo ship grating seems to have been used in an artsy fashion to create flooring for the loft area.
  • Hmmmm. It must be pretty interesting below when someone up here rejects whatever substances they may have consumed over the previous couple of hours.
  • No, you can't climb in.
  • Hmmm, this conduit seems to be unoccupied at the moment.
  • As much fun as is had by watching you suffer the consequences of your ill-conceived actions, I'll give you a break and merely say, "GET YOUR HEAD OUT." It's still a little too early in the game to get yourself a sound whuppin'.
  • You snag the four hoses. Never know when you're going to meet that special lady.
  • Several lengths of tubing lead from a valve array atop the tank, allowing simultaneous access to its contents.
  • My, aren't we frisky today? Get your own drink!
  • He looks lonely ... but not enough for YOUR company!
  • Woof woof. Adventure game stress must really be getting to you if you want to get romantic with THAT.
  • You can tell by the serious nature of their laughter that they're real impressed by your fake ID. Fortunately, they're just "faced" enough to not want to reshape you.
  • Your complexion's nothing to write Mary Kay about anyway. Why risk exposure to that?
  • You hear them say "Geez, our skimmer's double-hovered. We gotta run."
  • You aren't certain, but it's quite possible you were invited to establish an inordinately close relationship with yourself. Perhaps I misunderstood.
  • A pair of hefty doofi stand at the rail and just seem to giggle a lot.
  • These guys are a nicely matched set. They seem to be amusing each other to a very high degree.
  • He ignores you. Get used to it.
  • These nitro suckers come in all types. They're all drawing on the hoses. Amazingly, they don't freeze. They just glaze over for a few moments while the others laugh.
  • This one has a tattoo which says, "I love Lula."
  • He, or whatever it is, emits what you think is a dim-witted guffaw. You rarely feel so conversationally superior -- at least with animate objects.
  • You can't get the tank downstairs. This stuff is a lot denser than you imagined.
  • No, it doesn't work there.
  • The canister snaps neatly into the conduit opening.
  • Do you have a death wish or what? That's not a good idea. Trust me.
  • Nitro begins to flow through the tubing and into the conduit.
  • The nitro stops flowing.
  • It's that tank of nitro I drug over here. Weren't you paying attention?
  • The druggies are gone, leaving a partially-used nitro tank.
  • As with some other tables, a large tank marked Liquid Nitrogen sits beneath the center. It feeds the hookah manifold above. A set of hoses are within reach for each being which might be perched there.
  • Look at him. I wouldn't mess with him if I were you.
  • This guy looks like he just got back from CyberNam.
  • In this case, I'd suggest you just talk to yourself.
  • It's tough, but you repress your urge to wow the crowd with your prowess on the single even non-parallel bar.
  • The railings make a fair attempt at keeping those upstairs from unexpectedly relocating themselves downstairs, which usually results in an unpleasant experience for the faller, not to mention any potential fallees in the way.
  • The second floor of the nightclub does justice to the first.
  • Why don't you just walk up and say, "Hey, Mister, I've always wanted to catch a really good look at the inside of my colon. Perhaps you can help me."
  • Wow! This sucker makes even YOU look like G.Q. material.
  • Do you miss the smell of singed flesh?
  • The lights do a most pleasant job of illumination.
  • Gee, she looks pretty busy right now.
  • You snag a buckazoid off the waitron. How cool you are.
  • Hey, don't be greedy. It's bad enough that you stole already.
  • HEY, BUDDY! Get your paws outta my tips or I'll liberate your favorite organ. I'll even let you choose. Or, you can leave my tips alone and you won't have to worry about that decision. It's up to you.
  • A waitron hovers about, tray in claw, tending to the upstairs clientele. It makes decent tips, especially for a synthetic being.
  • Howdy, Dollface. What can I get ya'?
  • Nothing right now, thanks.
  • Okay, you just let me know if you change your mind, Hon.
  • Gee, she looks pretty busy right now. Maybe I should wait until she's done with that table.
  • The walls up here maintain the same conduit theme as below.
  • Leave the dried vomit alone, Roger.


  • What's that? It looks like the end of a used Q-Tip.
  • As enticing as the thought is of the heat from those barrels, you decide against it. There's hope for you yet.
  • There's certainly no shortage of fire in this cozy little getaway spot.
  • It's tightly secured.
  • Some wise sap closed up shop and jammed from this dying settlement.
  • You could never have enough buckazoids, Mop Breath!
  • Interesting. She appears to be waiting for someone. She might be one of those professional ladies your mom told you about.
  • She says, "Scrump off, you little felchmonger!"
  • A very odd fixture occupies a good portion of this corner. Its purpose is irrelevent as it seems to be the victim of a lack of maintenance and some sort of clinging mineral-like deposit which has been laid down in several arch-shaped patterns.
  • A sensible person would be afraid to find out what this caps off. That being the case, I'll take the liberty of telling you that it's something you don't want to mess with.
  • Now, there's an establishment still in operation. With this climate, it's no wonder that people might need to track down replacement parts for even the most organic of the population. Hmmmm, I wonder if ... nah, never mind.
  • Now, there's an interesting-sounding business name. You wonder what they sell.
  • (JUST GO IN)
  • It's the Dew Beam Inn, but I'm sure they accept pedestrians also. The door hinges aren't exactly overheated from a steady flow of eager patrons.
  • An inn. Hope it's not too classy for you.
  • That doesn't go anywhere fun.
  • Not a good idea.
  • Hmmm. Those two look like people my mom warned me about. I think I should avoid them.
  • Let's not, and say we did.
  • They're permanently affixed.
  • Long, thin vertical supports, or poles, support the front canopy.
  • It's hard to tell what the last business was that went broke here before it was abandoned. It originally went broke centuries ago as a laser disc shop.
  • It's nice to see here that there's a consistency to the architecture. The decay is horrendous. Who needs pigeons with an atmosphere like this?
  • This part of town is almost as glamorous as the rest.
  • There's only one way to find out if they mean what they say.
  • The skyline is anything but beautiful. Flames burn off the gases that can't be contained in the short-sighted dumping facilities. If you weren't so simple-minded, you might actually be depressed by the sight. But then, it's not your planet so why should you care?
  • What, do you want to get a scum souvenir sample to send back to the family? Tell you what, let's just act like you never thought it was a good idea. Okay?
  • This is a case of streetwalking where the street itself possesses more of a threat than any other elements associated with it.
  • Even you recognize the symbols on the barrels. And do you really need a nice supply of toxic waste? I think not.
  • You wonder if there could be any connection between this kind of waste disposal and a thriving business like Implants-N-Stuff. Wow. That's kind of deep for you.
  • It's dark and there's no sign of life. Best not to go that way.


  • Good luck!
  • A gleaming alloy aircar shoots toward you, but then rushes on by.
  • The guy looks like he could really use a visit to Supercuts. If the thought of how he might look underneath didn't cause you to involuntarily retch, you might even have paid.
  • Ah, an arcade. You haven't been in an arcade in at least a sequel or two. How cute. It has a really big replica of a coin slot!
  • Ah, an arcade. How cute. It has a really big replica of a coin slot.
  • The barrel's a little too hot to mess with. Even you know better than that.
  • Haven't we taught you not to play with fire? Well, except for that one time in Space Quest 2, but that was very necessary.
  • The flaming barrels remind you of the good old days, kicking back in the sandy outback of Kerona, roasting grellburgers over a lit rocket nozzle. Life was so simple then, but then, so are you. Apparently, SOME things don't change.
  • Have you already forgotten the warning from the EYES message? Pay attention.
  • This guy looks friendly now. Try to keep it that way.
  • Hold it right there, Pal. You don't want to go in there. Trust me. It's not a pretty sight, but then, neither are you. Nonetheless, it's bad news in there and I can't let you enter, so hit the pavement.
  • I told you the situation here, so beat it!
  • He pays very little attention. You're pretty used to it. But someday ...
  • Yep, it sure feels opaque.
  • The only way customers could see out of that place is to break some holes. That's some seriously dirty glass.
  • Heck, it might not even be glass. The constantly dripping atmosphere could have carried down corrosives which ate away the glass, leaving a mineral-like residue behind -- a petrified window, if you will.
  • It won't budge. It's seriously closed.
  • This door doesn't appear to have been used in quite some time. With the exception of "the strip" here, this place is nigh on to being a ghost town.
  • Don't bother. There's nothing useful inside.
  • Seems the endodroid's last visit has caused a permanent change of hours for this establishment.
  • Like none.
  • That shows a great sense of community spirit, Roger.
  • So, what are you really trying to do?
  • Sweet sentiments, urban style.
  • The planet's persistent drizzle of water -- and other unidentified substances -- have permanently sealed this thing shut.
  • Sometimes it's hard to tell which looks stranger -- the ship or the being piloting it. You won't know in this case though, since this seems to have been abandoned for quite some time.
  • The street light adds illumination to an area that really would be better off without it. The street names look familiar. Must've been something from a past life.
  • You can't reach that!
  • Another Orion's Belt franchise. That's one place you have yet to be banished from. I'll bet that's the finest neon sculpture on the whole corner.
  • The puddle looks like water, but on this orb you just never can tell.
  • The interesting parking technique employed by the pilot of this formerly spaceworthy ship has made entry impossible. Makes you wonder how, or if, the pilot got out.
  • The pilot of this craft employed a truly creative parking technique. By the looks of it, they'd been a patron of Orion's Belt immediately prior to executing this fine parking job.
  • Things have quieted a bit since that endodroid got loose. The arcade's still happening, but Orion's is real quiet.
  • Now, this place seems to be a little more interesting. Messy, but interesting. Noise emanating from the two establishments here indicates that there might actually be something fun going on inside.
  • Engage!
  • Open the podbay door, Hal!
  • Do you have any idea how ridiculous that was? Of course not. No brain -- no pain.
  • The sidewalks here, with a few exceptions, are a bit clearer in this area.
  • YIKES!! No wonder there isn't much traffic! The traffic law violator recidivism rate must be zilch here. On the negative side, it seems like this approach would severely hinder the ability of a municipality to generate traffic fine revenue.
  • Real cute. Climb the pole and switch the signs. How juvenile. But then again, we're talking about you. Nonetheless, forget it. There's almost no traffic to confuse anyway.
  • A mechanical traffic light diligently maintains control over the nearly nonexistent traffic in the area.
  • The street's a little bit cleaner here. It does have that peculiar burn crater just under the traffic signal.
  • Despite your dedication to the custodial arts, you resist the urge to clean up this mess. Besides, in this place it actually looks more natural.
  • Some inconsiderate slob has littered the streets with the debris once contained within this barrel. If only you'd gotten here a little earlier, you could have been the inconsiderate slob. Better luck next leave.
  • The endodroid didn't exactly make a tidy departure. The window's boarded up now.


  • It's startlingly unimpressed.
  • As we join our hero, Roger Wilco, he has just been transported to the surface of Polysorbate LX to enjoy a little shore leave. Apparently, there was a minor glitch in the process.
  • Well, at least you got here with all your important parts -- your hands, your mouth, and your stomach.
  • OK, I'm ready. Energize! (SCOTT DON'T ERASE THIS)
  • Your reach is about as great as your personal depth.
  • You're on R&R. Give it a rest.
  • Hey, take it easy. You're on R&R. You wouldn't be so anxious to use that if you were at work.
  • It doesn't want you to do that.
  • This guy looks like a vertically challenged Darth Vadar. What does a thing like that do for fun?
  • It just hums along, oblivious to your presence. Don't you hate that?
  • Sure, you've been in space a long, long time, but it might pay to be just a little more discriminating.
  • You'd think, if indeed you did, that a guy with the skin quality of a pachyderm wouldn't have a problem with this climate.
  • Deep inside, he chuckles to himself with the thought that you think he might actually care what you have to say.
  • He wisely ignores you.
  • Fire burns inside barrels along the streets. Apparently, those using them are residents of planets a bit closer to the suns that they orbit. The temperature seems quite moderate to you. But then, you do fancy yourself a studly guy. Too bad no one else shares that opinion.
  • It doesn't want it back, but that is a nice thought.
  • Don't bother. You can get rust anywhere.
  • Upon grabbing the ID card, you notice the picture on it is of a rather homely-looking alien type. Guess everyone can't be as fortunate as you.
  • The bike frame sits and decays along with everything else in this rancid atmosphere.
  • That's an interesting piece of hardware. Your normally dim power of recollection actually recalls having seen a picture of one of these in the ship library. Get this -- it's called a bike. People used to actually get on these and use their own muscles to achieve locomotion. What losers.
  • Upon closer inspection you notice some sort of ID card hanging on the frame.
  • Boot Liquor appears to be open for business.
  • Hey, that one looks familiar. It lacks a bit in the stature department, though.
  • The buildings around here have seen much better days. This must be the old part of town. If it isn't, you'd hate to see what is.
  • Rats. The Cinema appears to be closed. You were really hoping to see Tango and Cash 27.
  • The dumpster is nearly the cleanest item in the area. And you thought you were a slob.
  • This is an interesting billboard. You can't help but wonder what this Altaira company markets.
  • Yes, you actually left a cool-looking mold of your lower torso. Well, actually, it's not that impressive.
  • It looks like a security badge of some kind.
  • Bearing signs indicating the names of the streets which create this intersection, a light pole illuminates the area. What a mistake that is. Like anyone would want to see more of this place.











































  • Trapped quantities of atmospheric discharge fill depressions in the street surface. The combination of H2O and atmospheric toxins helps to create a delightful reflective sheen.
  • Thank you, my good man.
  • Yikes! I hope everything came out with me.
  • Oh, great. Real wonderful! Nice beam job, you metallic piece of scrap.
  • Geez, this is snug. Real snug. Hmmm. You know, it actually this makes me feels kind of good. I remember when I used to wear my mom's ... er, well, never mind. This is no time for nostalgia. I've got a serious extraction problem to work out first.
  • Yep, it's still a dump.
  • So this is the location you were so fortunate to draw for surface leave. What a dump! And you thought Xenon looked bad. This place is in serious need of some janitorial expertise.
  • Ah, but that's not your concern. After the ups and downs of the last couple of tours of duty you can really use the R&R. Time to give those buffing calluses a break -- at least that's what you hope.
  • The street seems to reflect the same care and sense of community pride that the rest of the area enjoys.
  • Seldom have you had the good fortune to get to know a street so up close and personal. You feel you have a real bond growing.
  • Nope. Not impressed.
  • Hey, that one has some legs. They're kind of spindly, but you sure have no room to criticize.
  • There's the guy who extracted you from the street. Better avoid him. He might want YOU to do HIM a favor now, and that's just not your style.
  • He seems totally unphased by your sorry attempt at communication.
  • It looks like someone, or something, got just a little too faced and wrecked a perfectly good Loadster 750 -- the Pinto of Polysorbate.


  • Commander, I am receiving a message from StarCon.
  • Computer, on screen.
  • Hello, Commander Kielbasa. I have a new directive for DeepShip 86.
  • This is actually a special request from me, Commander. As you may know, I served with Admiral Blundtphang during the Phallopian Campaign. Admiral Blundtphang's widow is involved in building an off-world retirement community. They are almost finished, but have requested assistance from DeepShip 86.
  • Commander, please extend her every courtesy. You know, if things go well, this would not look too bad in your personnel file. I will let Sharpei, the Admiral's widow, explain further.
  • Hello, Commander Kielbasa. As Admiral Toolman mentioned, we have almost completed our project here, but could use StarCon assistance.
  • To be honest, Commander, I pulled a few strings, but this is an important mission, I assure you.
  • Since you are scheduled to be present for the dedication of the Golden Lightyears Retirement Center anyway, I hoped you might alter your travel plans to accomodate an earlier arrival.
  • From the information provided me by my old friend, the Admiral, you would be able to warp here within a few hours. I require some assistance from your ship, as well as one of your crewmembers.
  • Allow me to explain ........
  • Janitor Wilco, why are you here?! You're supposed to have gotten your orders from your ComPost as instructed and reported to transport for beaming to Delta Burksilon V. Do it now or I'll be forced to make you the subject and recipient of a Captain's Log entry. Now, move it!
  • Commander Kielbasa, you're going to think I'm crazy but I've just recieved a distress message on my ComPost. And it was from Stellar!
  • Wilco, have you been whiffing cleaning fluid again?!
  • I'm absolutely as sane as I've ever been. She's being held on Delta Burksilon -- by Sharpei!
  • Wilco, do you realize how irrational that sounds? We buried Stellar. You were there. Maybe you need a rest. Take a couple of hours off.
  • Sir ... !
  • Wilco, we have our orders from StarCon and will be carrying them out.
  • Drop it, Janitor. Leave the bridge NOW, Wilco. I've made my decision.
  • Feels plush and comfy. Maybe if you get to be a Captain again someday, you'll get a nice scratching post/command center like this one.
  • Yeah, and you'll be on the cover of JQ!
  • That's Commander Kielbasa's command center.
  • No, wait, it's his scratching post!
  • No, it's his command center!
  • Scratching post!
  • Wait, kids, don't fight ... it's BOTH!
  • All fleas, abandon ship! All fleas, abandon ship!
  • With these controls, Commander Kielbasa can override navigational subsystems, access shipwide computer functions, perform sensor sweeps, and get to Level Six of "Super Nunzio World."
  • Computer, what's the airspeed velocity of a laden swallow?
  • African or European?
  • I don't know!
  • Hey, hey, hey! Enough of that. Let's move on.
  • You can't sit down here. This isn't your station.
  • Fortunately, these bridge substation chairs were "ergonomically designed."
  • Unfortunately, they were ergonomically designed by the Catharsians, a race of humanoids with only one buttock. Oof.
  • If you're so desperate for conversation that you'd talk to empty chairs, maybe you should just shut off the computer and pick up the phone.
  • Yeah, you rearrange the Commander's chair and he'll rearrange YOU.
  • With these controls, Commander Kielbasa can adjust the elevation, tilt, rotation and firmness level of his command center.
  • And if you put in a quarter, it'll massage 320 different acupressure points.
  • Rotate 60 degrees! Tilt forward 22 degrees! Hard to starboard! Evasive maneuvers!
  • That's the communication officer.
  • This is the Computer Post, or "ComPost" for short. Most common computer functions can be accessed from these terminals, including convenient pneumatic room-to-room transportation.
  • (Not recommended for pregnant lifeforms or beings with heart conditions!)
  • ComPost, heel!
  • It doesn't respond. It's not voice-activated. Maybe sometime in the distant future!
  • That's the schematic diagram of DeepShip 86.
  • He's the ship's engineer.
  • That's Commander Kielbasa, Dummy.
  • He ignores you as you expected he would.
  • Janitor Wilco, you must have something to clean up somewhere. Make yourself scarce. We're very busy up here.
  • This is the bridge, the very nerve center, of the SCS DeepShip 86.
  • The enormous DeepShip cost millions of buckazoids to build, stretches on and on seemingly without end, and limps along at a snail's pace.
  • Hey, nice scenery.
  • You release an extra burst of freshening powder.
  • Mmmmm! Springtime fresh!
  • These new kitty litter boxes use warp-plasma redundancy circuits to release concentrated air freshener gradually ... for up to 45 days.
  • Sometimes for fun, they beam "the Captain's Logs" aboard passing ships and warp on out of there before they're the wiser.
  • See what I have to put up with? Maybe they need a narrator over on Myst 2. You know, a guy can dream.
  • It responds automatically to foul scents. You can't activate it by talking to it.
  • (Unless you're close enough for it to smell your breath.)
  • Not on a bet.
  • It's Commander Kielbasa's kitty litter box. This is where he makes most of his best command decisions.
  • Not to mention all of his log entries!
  • Sorry, you're not authorized to contribute to the Captain's Log.
  • Occupado!
  • This is the Engineering Station, where the power grids and engines are constantly monitored to make sure they're within StarCon spec.
  • Or at least somewhere around a point close to an approximation of the same general idea of StarCon spec.
  • The Engineering station is set to listen to voice commands from authorized personnel only, and you are as unauthorized as can be.
  • You activate the [[]]Level 1 Pattern Detector.
  • Hmm ... game #1 in a series sells 50,000 copies. Game #2 in the series sells 100,000 copies. Game #3 sells 150,000 copies. Game #4 sells 200,000 copies. Game #5 sells 250,000 copies ...
  • You're detecting a definite pattern here!
  • This is the Science Station, housing the advanced sensor systems, extended computer reference modules, and pattern detectors.
  • This Science Station is a ready source of information on just about any topic in the universe.
  • Thus you are absolutely incapable of carrying on an intelligent conversation with it.
  • You perform a quick structural integrity scan, followed by a sweep for subspace particle emissions, and finish with a Level 3 diagnostic.
  • I liked pushing the green button best!
  • Guess you're out of luck.
  • This is the Communications Station. All intraship, ship-to-ship, and ship-to-surface communications are routed through this terminal.
  • Hear ye, hear ye! We at StarCon have made a dreadful mistake. Janitor Second Class Roger Wilco is now Commander.
  • Nice try, only you forgot to push the yellow button. Lucky for you! Although it's hard to get busted down any lower than you already are.
  • The sensor pad feels warm and smooth, like a laminated baby's bottom.
  • This is a pressure-activated sensor pad, located directly below the Intraship Transport Tube so that an outgoing crewmember won't be accidentally crushed by an incoming crewmember.
  • That's not how you get up into the tube!
  • This is the pneumatic tube for intraship transport. It is not a toy.
  • Anyone up there?
  • Apparently not.
  • Don't touch the viewscreen, you just finished cleaning it.
  • The main viewscreen is filled with stars and distant galaxies, representing untold scores of civilizations and a vast amount of untapped knowledge that could reshape the way we think of time and space.
  • But more importantly, you're proud to notice that your new squeegee didn't leave any streaks!
  • Orbiting Delta Burksilon V.
  • Orbiting Polysorbate LX.
  • Yo, distant galaxies and stars! Can you hear me?
  • Sorry, objects in viewscreen are farther away than they actually appear.


  • Nice work. Sometimes you actually surprise me.
  • Whoa, I see you have a visitor. I'll leave you two alone, but you know the rules. Ten more minutes and they have to leave.
  • Yikes! It's a good thing Dorff's so vain about wearing his prescribed, much thicker glasses. That was too close. I nearly dampened an undergarment.
  • You don't seem to be able to gain access.
  • Now there's a real bright idea. But then, perhaps you'd deserve the consequences. If the force field were turned off, you'd be the only one to suffer the consequences. In the event that someone might be looking over your shoulder, we'll save your embarrassment for another time.
  • Game over, Man, game over!
  • What are you, Plastic Man? You can't possibly reach anything outside the cell when you're locked in.
  • This sensor pad controls the force field grid for Cell 105.
  • Well, the way this room is arranged, and given that you're locked inside the cell, if you stretch your neck reallll hard ...
  • ... you'd break your fool neck before you could see THAT.
  • Hey, Mr. Computer], release the force field, would you?
  • First, the grid controls don't respond to voice commands. Second, it's a little objectionable to assign sexual identity to the computer, don't you think?
  • Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.
  • You flick the force field on and off, just so you can feel like a real Security guy.
  • This sensor pad controls the force field grid for Cell 106.
  • While that's an interesting idea, even Dorff would notice that something would be missing where there were two things -- the cart and you.
  • Not now. Dorff is looking.
  • It's a hovercraft for transporting replicated food.
  • This is your standard shipwide ComPost panel. Surely you must recognize it by now!
  • That ComPost represents freedom! Ah, sweet freedom ... you never realize how much you miss something until you've screwed it up so badly that you don't have anything like it anymore.
  • Or something like that.
  • Nothing happens. The ComPost uses a tactile rather than verbal interface.
  • You don't need two doughnuts. Trust me.
  • This is some very fine food, whatever it is. I'm sure you'll find it quite to your liking. Heck, it's probably better than what they feed you janitors. Live it up. Oh, that darn light needs to be amplified. I need to contact maintenance.
  • You are very fortunate to not be a prisoner on one of those Cervic cruisers. They'd have you eating your ... oh, heck, never mind. You don't need to hear that right before you eat, that's for sure. I do go on a little.
  • Golly, this food looks so good, it might be worth becoming a prisoner for. (LAME CHUCKLE AND SNORT) Yeah, like I'm sure I'd want to be in your position! ... Not!
  • Enjoy, Mr. Wilco. The cushy life will be a vague memory after you are sent to one of the labor camps on Daventry VIII.
  • Enjoy. I'll be back to pick up the cart. With the force field on, I trust you won't be going anywhere. I have some matters to attend to now.
  • Eat up, prisoner! I'll be collecting that cart soon.
  • That would be Dorff, the nearsighted and fairly clueless Security Chief.
  • What are you doing there, Prisoner Wilco?
  • It's a consumption ritual my, uh, babysitter taught me.
  • Yeah, that's it.
  • Oh, very well. Carry on.
  • Hey, there's someone in your spot. Nice work, Roger. Why, he's almost as handsome as you. (WILL PROBABLY GO WITH A GENERIC MESSAGE TO BE DETERMINED)
  • Nice!
  • You marvel at how much more handsome this prisoner looks compared to the last one.
  • He's having enough trouble just maintaining his species. I hardly think he's going to be paying much attention to, much less understanding, you.
  • With the force field in place, you can't reach anything in that cell without demolecularizing your arm (which is a trip and a half, but you've kinda grown attached to it).
  • It's a plain [[Quadro-Full cot. You don't get those nice shimmery sheets when you're in the brig.
  • Don't talk to the bed, you'll get down in the mouth.
  • Provided you could get your arm through the force field (which you can't), the [[Creature from the Ego would nip it off at the shoulder and you'd die horribly in a puddle of gore as the blood fountained from the gaping wound.
  • (Yeah, and we know exactly what you're thinking: "Awesome! Let's see it!")
  • Inside this cell is the Creature from the Ego, a bizarre invisible monster caught on Rialto IV. It's violent, brutal, bloodthirsty, and is a sucker for insincere flattery.
  • Hey, handsome! Let's see that pretty li'l face!
  • Impressive.
  • This is a dispenser that releases a steady stream of dihydrogen oxide, a colorless limpid liquid compound that acts as a solvent and keeps bodily tissues from dehydrating.
  • Don't talk with your mouth open.
  • This is a receptacle for digestive by-products, which are then briefly churned with dihydrogen oxide and then transported under pressure into the tanks in the Replicator subprocessing unit.
  • The only way you'll be able to see that is if you stick your head far enough through the pipes. But you'd probably drown.
  • Yes, provided you could get past both the force field and the Creature from the Ego, you could easily stick your head in the bowl and talk like Darth Vadar. But it's not really worth the loss of life.
  • Wow! You can see your house from here!
  • Nobody out there can hear you from here.
  • You can't touch it from outside the cell, but if it's anything like the paper in your cell, it's impregnated with an organosilicon compound for reduced friction.
  • Plus, it's quilted for extra cush!
  • You can't reach it from here, but by feeling the paper in your own cell, you just know the paper in the left cell is soft and smooth on your bottom!
  • The roll of toilet paper is conveniently placed for wiping alien tushies.
  • You can't see the paper from where you are, but you just KNOW it's quilted.
  • (Mainly because that's what the paper in your cell looks like!)
  • You're disgusting.
  • As you look at the Replicator, the old adage "You are what you eat" floats to the surface of your consciousness (along with all the other scum pooling around up there). What could that mean?
  • As usual, the thought leaves your mind as quickly as it came in.
  • Get a clue. This isn't science fiction, this is reality.
  • There's nothing like the feel of imitation orat hide.
  • Hey! There's someone in your "spot."
  • Oh, no, I'm not going in THERE again.
  • You prod the bed a little bit, just to make sure it isn't moving on its own.
  • The bed now resembles a buffet table.
  • This is now YOUR bed. Suddenly you find yourself wondering what kind of festering, slimy, pus-laden criminals have sat on this very bed. And what they've left behind.
  • The cell walls feel cold, hard and unforgiving. You feel a Johnny Cash song coming on.
  • As you run your hand over the grafitti-covered bare Plasto-stone walls of the cell, you wonder why nobody ever cleans this place.
  • Cell 106 is infamous for the permanent blood stain on the floor. That stain came into being when Red Bovine, a Ferbangi slave trader, tried to escape by crawling out the porthole and immediately imploded.
  • Why ... that's the cell where you spent the most hellish twenty minutes of your entire life!
  • Home, sweet home -- until you figure out how to get out of here and away from that nearsighted security guard.
  • Halt! Who goes there?
  • Oh, it's me.
  • The sink appears to be malfunctioning. One of these days, you'll have to get around to asking someone to fix it. But then again, the prisoners in the brig don't really deserve such luxuries, do they?
  • Why doesn't this darned sink work? What's WRONG with this ship, anyway? Prisoners have rights, too, y'know! This is an outrage! This treatment is inhumane! I'm sorry, but I'm peeved!
  • Sorry I lost control like that. I'm better now.
  • If you look at it, it's a sink. If you smell it, it's a toilet.
  • Well, let's just look at it.
  • Yuck!! No pine scent here.
  • Hey, we're trying for a PG-13 rating here.
  • I don't have to go right now. I went just before you started playing.
  • It looks like a john.*
  • *Note: we would like to apologize to all those members of the audience named "John" who might have been offended by the preceding message. It's not our fault that your parents named you after a bathroom fixture.
  • You don't need a drink right now, you ol' Space Dog.
  • Last time you checked, you weren't Superman.
  • In desperation, you attempt to bend the bars, roll the toilet paper out the window, slide down the roll and escape.
  • Unfortunately, there are several flaws in this plan.
  • Gazing out at the peaceful stars drifting slowly by, you can't help but be overcome with a sense of your own total insignificance.
  • Gazing out the window reminds you of a legendary prisoner named the Birdman of DeepShip 12, who raised homing pigeons in his cell for months.
  • He then hatched a scheme in which he'd write notes and attach them to the pigeons and send the pigeons out the window in search of help.
  • Naturally, the birds would immediately explode upon being released into outer space, but he never gave up.
  • When he was released, he was heavily recruited by SOL, Inc.
  • You stupidly try to spit out the window, completely forgetting that there's quintuple-thick Dynapane glass in front of those bars. The bars are just there for atmosphere.
  • The Brig is the most solidly-built room onboard.
  • This is the Brig area, where transgressors are placed for punishment and, supposedly, rehabilitation.
  • In order to strike fear into the hearts of evildoers, the cells are labelled "105" and "106." Actually, these are the only two cells aboard the ship.
  • But the subtlety is usually lost on these intergalactic criminal-types.
  • From where you're sitting, it looks like freedom.
  • But ... but ... I LIKE my hand!
  • Thar she blows! The Creature from the Ego! That sucker looks like he could nip the macadamias off of a Labion Terror Beast in full-dervish!
  • You can hear him and sense his presence, but you can't see him. Which is a good thing if you've just eaten.
  • Hey, if I tease you enough, will you bust out of there and kill me, or what?
  • Feels slick and plasticky, yet elastic and scratch-resistant.
  • The pad helps you position yourself correctly for intraship transport.
  • As if the overhead tube weren't a big enough clue.
  • Stop flapping your lips.
  • It's way beyond your grasp, just like quadratic equations.
  • It's the chute you get sucked up into.
  • It's your escape route! You have GOT to get out of here and save Stellar!
  • Heads up! Coming through!


  • So we got a match but the files are closed? What's with that?
  • I don't know for sure, Roger, but it seems a bit suspicious.
  • When a file is marked like that, there's usually a very good reason. Most frequently it indicates the file is closed for intelligence purposes or it's legally sealed by some judicial body.
  • In the case of those tubs of guts that grabbed you, I'd have to say that it's not a government agency directly behind it. Sounds more like someone with access from the outside to a friend or two inside. A more paranoid person might say this smells way wrong.
  • Then again, when did you last change your socks?
  • If the files are sealed then we have nothing to go on.
  • True. The only thing I can think of is that they may be accessible by jacking into cyberspace. I've never done it, but I know it can be done.
  • So I guess this means you won't be trying it first, uh, I mean, I'd love to try it, but I can't since we don't know how.
  • Well, actually, I read it can be done with the help of a cyberjack and headset, and a cyberspace jack interface module. The article said there are several things to access out there and that there's a vast library of files to browse.
  • It said that the Information Superhighway project is a little behind schedule but that there are some operative areas. Other than that, I don't have a clue as to how we can gain any information about them.
  • So you think this cyberspace thing could work?
  • I can only tell you what I've read. Navigating it takes a little patience but I think it's the only option you have. I don't know if you'll locate a cyberjack and headset. Because of the delays in the project they've become more like collector's items than marketable, functionable products.
  • We do have cyberjack modules built into the ComPost.
  • That's true. Of course, we won't know anyway without the jack.
  • That bites. I wonder where we could find one of those?
  • I wish I knew, Roger. There must be someplace.
  • Attention. We are now orbiting the Delta Burksilon V colony as requested by StarCon. Most of you know your assignments as they have been broadcast to your ComPosts. Please represent StarCon properly.

Kielbasa out.

  • You'd better get moving since you don't know yet what your assignment is. I have some checking around to do. We'll talk later.
  • Thanks, Stellar. I'll see you soon.
  • Maybe we can work in that dinner.
  • Oh, hi, Stellar. I hope your back's feeling better.
  • They just finished treating me and it IS starting to feel better. However, I was told to lay off rescuing people for awhile -- especially you. So, did you have any luck?
  • I got some information from the sample I ran through the DNA sequencer.
  • When I tried it, all I got was a name. All it said after that was that the file is closed. I wonder why that is?
  • It's soft, yet firm.
  • It's a MediBunk. This is where all ill or injured crew members are treated. It's also where they bring all the guys in the [[]]red shirts -- or what's left of them -- after they have suffered their inevitable calamities.
  • Big cases of unimportant stuff clutter the foreground.
  • Neat! I've always wanted to try one of these on the ComPost.
  • As in all locations aboard the DeepShip 86, a ComPost is located here. Ever since stairs were banned during the Ford administration, ComPosts have been a necessity.
  • Many things rest on the center console. Most of them are merely non-functional screen dressing. Pretty cool-looking, eh?
  • I'm sorry, Mr. Wilco. The sequencer is for use by trained personnel only. Obviously, you don't fit that description. I'm afraid I can't allow you to use it.
  • Aw, come on, Jebba. Be a pal. Who'll know?
  • I'm sorry, Mr. Wilco. It's a StarCon regulation.
  • This is a DNA sequencer. During a starship's travels many different organisms and artifacts are discovered, and a DNA sequencer can come in quite handy in analyzing them.
  • But mostly, it just gets used to make sure the food replicators are working properly and not brewing up anything that might hatch and grow inside you, for instance.
  • Apparently the doctor is way busy, as he completely ignores you.
  • Nope. We're not getting into any of that Alien-type stuff in this game.
  • Various specimen jars line the back of the center console. Some seem to still have a specimen or two in them. Jebba must have the best specimen collection in the quadrant.
  • Jebba is an interesting-looking fellow -- that is, if you think a melted purple marshmallow with an internal skeleton is interesting. He's the main [[research attendant here in the Sickbay.
  • He ignores you. What did you expect him to do? He helped you and it's time for you to move along. We have adventuring to do.
  • You got what you wanted. I'm really quite busy and need to get my work done now. Goodbye, Mr. Wilco!
  • Geez, Jebba, Who's gonna know? Let me just try this one thing, I'll be out of your way. No one'll find out.
  • I don't know, Mr. Wilco, I'm not one to break regulations. I really don't think it's a good idea.
  • I swear it'll only take a minute. We're out in the middle of nowhere. No one will find out. And I'll tell you what. Anytime you want it, one free plunge job, day or night. Whaddaya say?
  • Well, I don't know ...
  • It'll only take a minute or two. Really. Come on, Jebba. Be a pal.
  • Well ... Okay, but just this once. If anyone finds out, I'm sunk. Then I'll come looking for you to take it out on. Keep that in mind.
  • No problem. I'll be done in a flash.
  • I really don't know why I'm doing this.
  • It's the keyboard for the DNA sequencer.
  • It's just a crate.
  • It only reads out. No, you can't change the channel to Baywatch, Pal.
  • The screen displays the results obtained from the continuous biofeed scan of the patient.
  • It's a cabinet.
  • This is one of the control panels for the BioFeed Scanner above the MediBunk. Skilled personnel know how to properly operate this -- which means YOU should leave it alone.
  • It's the DNA sequencer scanning bed. This is where you put the food, er, specimen you desire to scan.
  • It's a case of something you don't care about.
  • This is the Sickbay. All ill or injured crewmembers are brought here for treatment. It seems everyone in a red shirt ends up in here eventually, or at least what's left of them.
  • It's a scale. No, you can't weigh yourself.
  • This is a BioFeed Scanner. It reads all vital life functions, and some not so vital. It then inteprets those signals and converts them into a form that can be graphically displayed. But mostly it just goes BEEP a lot.
  • Stellar is getting treatment for her back injury. You should be ashamed of yourself for jumping on her like that -- you baby!


  • Leave it alone. It's not a toy. Besides, you'd probably cut yourself.
  • Like last time.
  • Ah, your old Xenon Army knife from Space Quest 1, in which you destroyed the powerful Star Generator which had fallen into the hands of the evil kleptomaniac [[Sariens!
  • Ah, memories. This really helped out in Space Quest 1. I just don't understand why it cuts me better than it does other things.
  • You won't need to take the Autobucks Card. Here on the DeepShip 86, there's no need for money. Everything's free.
  • Ooh, it's your old Autobucks Card from your shopping spree at the Galaxy Galleria, after you saved the Latex Babes from that hideous Sea Slug in Space Quest 4. It's expired unfortunately, but then, you don't need much money aboard the DeepShip.
  • Besides, people would talk if they saw you dressed that way again.
  • We didn't make this game just so you could crawl into bed and go back to sleep. Be productive!
  • Why do all these starships come with shimmery sheets? What's so futuristic and wonderful about shimmery sheets?
  • They wake you up at night. They're cold and slippery. And the WORST thing is getting up every morning with sequins imprinted all over your face.
  • What's up with that?
  • Now's no time for pillow talk!
  • There's no reason to open the blinds. There's nothing to see out there except billions of the same old strange new worlds, ho-hum new life and new civilizations, and lots of stupid places for insane, death-wishing daredevils to boldly go where no insane, death-wishing daredevils have gone before.
  • Then again, somebody told you that you look great under fluorescent lights.
  • Your words reflect harmlessly back to you from the window.
  • Now's no time to catch up on your reading.
  • Leave them where they are. They're positioned just right for making it appear as though you simply dissolved into your bed.
  • These are your boots.
  • Wait a second, you're already wearing your boots.
  • Hmmmmmm.
  • You won't need that buckazoid onboard. Save it. Put it towards your education.
  • It's your life savings!
  • The buckazoid is silent. That's odd. Usually, money talks.
  • You've never once sat down at this table, and you're not about to start now!
  • These chairs have been thoughtfully provided by Ship Services so that you can sit at your table and work.
  • You wonder what it feels like to sit in them.
  • That cigar butt is a piece of your history. You would no sooner carry it around than you would your golden mop.
  • It's a discarded cigar stub from the Galaxy Galleria in Space Quest 4!
  • Don't put that cigar butt in your mouth. You know where this one has been!
  • You yank on the ClapMaster's™ cord 'til it pops out of the wall, and you shove it all into your pocket.
  • This is your old ClapMaster™. It can turn a plug on and off with a clap of the hands.
  • And there are a lot of plugs in this room ... mostly for Space Quests 1, 2, 3 and 4!
  • Clap!
  • Apparently you're a little unclear on the concept.
  • You never learned how to work these controls. That's why you keep everything that should be in the closet scattered around the room.
  • These controls open and close the closet, perform passive handprint IDs to prevent unauthorized entry, monitor its humidity, and scan for moths.
  • Can we talk?
  • When are you going to learn that the computers around here aren't voice-activated? StarCon's too cheap for that.
  • The closet isn't worth opening. Everything that used to be inside is scattered around the room.
  • Ordinarily, your closet contains clothes. At the moment, though, you're using your clothes as knick-knacks.
  • Picking up your clothes?
  • Dammit, Roger, you're a janitor, not a responsible adult!
  • You've been meaning to do this laundry for several months. Now it's permanently stuck to the floor.
  • Pick yourselves up and put yourselves away.
  • You're terribly offended that they do not reply.
  • This is your personal ComPost, where you can access computer functions and room-to-room pneumatic transport.
  • However, personal communications are sent directly to this ComPost station, rather than being transmitted to every ComPost on the ship. You wouldn't want everyone reading those steamy messages you get from Beatrice Wankmeister, would you?
  • You bet you WOULD!
  • Looks like you have a message waiting for you. Hmm ...
  • It does not respond to voice commands.
  • This poor dresser hasn't worked right since they hauled it onboard.
  • Wait, were you looking at yourself or at the bureau?
  • Well, same message either way.
  • Ah, there's nothing like the feel of a solid third-class crew deck under your feet!
  • Don't bother with it, the batteries are dead, and there's no alien language here to translate.
  • Wow, it's the old translating gadget you used to communicate with the subterranean alien back on the planet Kerona in Space Quest 1!
  • Too bad they don't make those little Dilithium watch batteries anymore.
  • Hey, translate THIS!
  • OK, hold it right there.
  • Feels headboardy!
  • This headboard contains vital function telemetry modules, full-spectrum illumination, and, as the ultimate in high-tech entertainment:
  • Boy, nothing beats being part of an advanced civilization!
  • The headboard senses vital functions and responds to them. The sound of your voice is anything BUT a vital function.
  • Sure, go ahead, grab that red-hot spike of quartz so it'll fuse your hand permanently to the heater.
  • Looks like the quartz is plenty hot right now.
  • You have apparently mistaken your space heater for some other space heater that gives a damn.
  • You won't need that hintbook, you've already won Space Quest 4. (Haven't you?)
  • Say, it's the old hintbook you found in the bargain bin at the software store in Space Quest 4!
  • Conversing with the hintbook is a sign of multidimensional dementia.
  • Wilco, Commander Kielbasa here. I have a special assignment for you. A crewperson of special skills is required on Delta Burksilon V. In the spirit of StarCon cooperation, we have decided to offer them your assistance. Transport there immediately. Kielbasa out.
  • Wilco, where are you? You either get down to Delta Burksilon V NOW, or I will have you ejected into space. Is that understood, Janitor?
  • It feels clean, for once!
  • Your kitchen is in here, complete with garbage disposal, solid waste regenerator, and cockroaches.
  • You would offer to play hide-and-seek with the cockroaches, but you are always "it."
  • Since the lamp is the main source of illumination in your room, you decide to leave it on.
  • Kryptonite lamp ... sapping power ... must ... replace ... bulb ... someday!
  • Your attempt at light conversation fails.
  • You've long since used up all the matches in this book. The cover is lying around as a souvenir.
  • Hey, here's that pack of matches you stole from the Ulence Flats bar when you returned to Space Quest 1 during the time-travel sequence in Space Quest 4!
  • Hey, here's a match for you ...
  • My face and your spatially-inverted tetryon particle!
  • Well, you had to be there.
  • Wow, a message for ME. I must be getting popular.
  • I wonder what it is?
  • The surface of the mirror feels cold and hard, like glass ... yet you can see yourself in it. Strange!
  • You glance in the mirror.
  • For a moment, you can almost see a silk-clad brunette overacting in a stone tower.
  • Why don't you look into that 'facing thing?
  • That mop is a piece of your history. You would no sooner carry it around than you would your cigar butt.
  • Holy cow, it's your Golden Mop Award for your feats of derring-do in Space Quest 1!
  • Once upon a time, you really meant something to me. You were a symbol of my bravery, of my importance to StarCon. Now you're just a constant reminder of the glory that once was mine.
  • Roger just pawn in chessgame of StarCon.
  • First of all, you haven't bothered to fix the ClapMaster™ yet. Second, you didn't unplug it just to plug it in again here!
  • Sorry, plugging the ClapMaster™ back in here isn't going to accomplish anything useful. Or even amusing.
  • If you want to take the ClapMaster™, use your hand on the base unit sitting on your night table.
  • If not, leave me alone.
  • You have no reason to plug that back in here.
  • It's a four-socket recursive-current subspace-grounded outlet, with your ClapMaster™ plugged into it.
  • It's a four-socket recursive-current subspace-grounded socket, devoid of any cords, plugs, or pins!
  • It's a four-socket recursive-current subspace-grounded outlet. There appears to be a plug prong stuck in it.
  • It's speechless.
  • There's nothing to be gained from moving the ClapMaster™ from one outlet to another in your quarters, even if this one was capable of being plugged in!
  • Sticking your finger in the socket might provide us with a few cheap laughs, but we're above that sort of thing.
  • There's nothing in your quarters that you particularly feel like clapping off.
  • It's a four-socket recursive-current subspace-grounded outlet, with your heater plugged into it.
  • It's never enough, of course. When're Ship Services going to send up that power strip you asked for?
  • You resist the temptation to scream into the outlet, which you used to do back when you were a child and had those typical fears of the Monster in the Socket.
  • You're perfectly comfortable in the pair of pants you're already wearing.
  • That's odd, you don't remember having a second pair of pants.
  • Thanks, you're a real load of pants.
  • Wait a minute, where have I heard something like that before?
  • There's nothing behind the picture.
  • And just to clear this up right now, there's nothing under the carpet, beneath the bed, inside the closet, behind the dresser, or inside the garbage can.
  • You're thinking of that other game from that other company.
  • Now if you could only figure out what the heck a "moon" is!
  • What should I do? Tell me, what should I do?
  • You should get a grip. Do you realize you're talking to yet another inanimate object?
  • With all the naive charm of a person who's never figured out the relationship between electricity and flesh, you grab for the ClapMaster's™ wayward prong.
  • There's a single prong from the ClapMaster's™ plug embedded in the outlet.
  • Come out of there. I'm afraid I'll get a shock if I touch you.
  • What are you going to do, lay hands on it and heal it?
  • You give the plant the last rites.
  • You think about plucking one of the dead brown leaves from the dead brown plant. But that would just be adding insult to injury.
  • Unfortunately, all you could think of to do was to stand over it and say, "Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse, Betelgeuse!"
  • It's way too late to save this plant by talking to it.
  • The PocketPal will be of no use to you whatsoever. It's AC and the ship is DC.
  • Hey, it's the PocketPal terminal you filched from an abandoned landspeeder on Xenon during Space Quest 4!
  • Don't bother talking to it. It's just a dumb terminal.
  • No, there's nothing behind the poster!
  • That was before you got busted back down to Janitor and assigned to this dad-blasted floating heckhole of a mother-talking spaceship.
  • As these things are wont to do, it acts like you said nothing at all.
  • Unless there happens to be a Star Generator in the immediate vicinity, this remote won't be of any use to you whatsoever.
  • And there isn't, so there won't.
  • Whoa, it's the Star generator remote control you found aboard the Sarien ship during Space Quest 1!
  • There isn't the remotest chance it will respond to you.
  • The Food Replicator responds to keypad input only.
  • Don't pick it up, you've already broken it several times. Now the port stablizer flange is out of configuration by 5.2 percent, which could result in a warp core breach.
  • Now you've done it. You've reaaaaaaally done it.
  • Your quarters are cozy and intimate, yet spacious.
  • (That's one of the advantages of living in a converted cargo hold.)
  • You won't need it. It's reminding you of your inadequacy just fine where it is.
  • Wow, it's your official employment rejection letter from Sierra On-Line at the end of Space Quest 3!
  • It just says "Not a chance," and it's signed by Ken Williams.
  • You can curse at the rejection letter all you like, but the decision has already been made.
  • They would make a very effective weapon against any foe. Unfortunately, you can't bear to pick them up and be that close to them for any length of time. By now, they're probably stiffer than Mr. Spock.
  • We named the game after these.
  • Stop lingering with the lingerie, put a sock in it, and get moving!
  • (LABORED) Roger... help me! I only have a moment... They faked...
  • Stellar! What happened?! The picture's gone. You're alive?!
  • The table appears to be composed entirely of solid matter.
  • This table is supposed to be used for paperwork and gracious dining.
  • Since you do neither, you've found it makes a great place to stash all this junk you've collected over the years.
  • Perhaps you should table this conversation for now.
  • You have nothing you need to throw out right now.
  • Some of the Empire's old R2-D2 units were recycled into convenient trash receptacles.
  • Stop talking trash!
  • You won't be needing the whistle.
  • Do you see any Labion Terror Beasts around here?
  • No?
  • Then there's no need to blow it!


  • Despite our reputation for being pacifists, we Vulgars have developed an extremely practical martial arts technique used mainly for defensive purposes. It is called "The Vulgar Nerve Pinch."
  • This is a tactile/aural maneuver in which the applier pinches the bundle of nerve fibers at the base of the neck while whispering into the victim's ear dialogue from either "Tango & Cash" or "Hudson Hawk."
  • This particular combination of nerve stimuli and loss of cerebral control due to the torturous mantra of movie dialog results in a searing flash of pain, and then unconsciousness.
  • In effect, it is similiar to a temporary, aurally-induced lobotomy. Victims are soon rendered unconscious for several hours.
  • When they awaken, they will remember nothing of how they came to be unconscious -- if they are extremely lucky. I shall demonstrate on my most eager volunteer.
  • You will please to pay attention.
  • Address the subject in this manner:
  • Please to notice the location of my hand as I begin the narcotic chant of cinematic morphine.
  • He mutters something thankfully unintelligible into the ear of the volunteer.
  • mumble mumble mumble...
  • So, as you can see, it is very effective. If you can apply a proper grip to the neck, it will disable nine out of ten neck-bearing species.
  • This completes our program. Thank you.
  • Don't screw with the projection arrays. They are precisely aligned and calibrated.
  • The various arrays found around the room project all the images and sounds one will experience here.
  • This is one of the number keys, as indicated by the strategically placed numbers on it. I can see where you'd be confused.
  • This clears the previous entry.
  • As elsewhere, this room is equipped with a ComPost.
  • These are the HoloDeck programming controls.
  • This deletes the entry.
  • This begins execution of your entry.
  • The floor is totally free of debris. The HoloSuite is self-cleaning. This technology could render you obsolete if it were used extensively throughout the fleet. Good thing StarCon's so cheap.
  • The floor is featureless.
  • Those little red things are transporter station status lights. You have no idea what they mean. They always look that way.
  • No real mystery as to what this does -- at least there'd better not be!
  • This is the [[]]HoloJoint. There are the usual ComPost and transport tubes as in all other ship locations. There is a special control panel near those. Otherwise, the room is nearly devoid of features.
  • The truly unique thing about this room is its ability to be programmed to replicate just about any setting and situation. It is often used for training as well as for periods of recreation by the crew.
  • You are looking at two computer screens. Yes two, the computer screen of your wimpy PC and the screen of our far superior holocabana that can "render" your PC worthless.
  • It's the pad the ship's transport system uses as a target when spewing transportees to their appropriate destinations.
  • The only time you can touch that is when you're passing through it.
  • That's the in-ship transport tube for this room. You've been hurled through it more times than you'd care to think about.
  • They feel as they look.
  • The walls have a flat, nondescript finish. Very deceiving when you consider what this room is capable of.


  • It's hard to believe that this is the HoloSuite. The setting is much like the graphics you have scanned in the library from those planets more interesting in their climatic diversity.
  • From the scenic jutting peaks, soft hills and lake in the conjured distance to the lush pixelized growth of trees, flowers and grass in the foreground, the HoloDeck has that sublime park-like perfection.
  • Unfortunately, its serene beauty is sadly negated by the headstones and the solemn event about to occur: the laying to rest of your rescuer and true friend, Stellar Santiago.
  • You are feeling as you have never felt before. Perhaps helped along by the relatively short stints aboard the various ships, as well as all-too-brief friendships, you've been spared the emotional devastation of true loss by lack of attachment.
  • This, however, is a different feeling -- far different from anything you've ever experienced. You can't help but wonder how you'd act towards Stellar given a second chance, but you know that can never happen. She gave her life for you and you will never be able to thank her.
  • Enough smarm already. Let's funeral!
  • This is no time to pick a conversation.
  • No, they are not available for picking. You weren't going to try to pick up someone at the funeral, were you?
  • The blue flowers, and all of them for that matter, are typical of the HoloSuite's incredible attention to detail.
  • Not too appropriate -- even for you!
  • It's your average, everyday HoloChaplain. Stunningly real, don't you think?
  • No, that's more than you are up to at this time. All you really want to touch is the spleen of whoever did this to Stellar!
  • Egad, can you really be thinking that?
  • Geez, the coffin. The true gravity of Stellar's death hits you in the, er, stomach, nearly making you physically ill. It's really true.
  • You would leave Stellar's funeral?!
  • This is the standard ComPost. It's the only other thing that detracts from the nearly perfect scene before your eyes.
  • Wouldn't it be fun to see everyone's reactions if you turned off the program. You quickly lose the thought and remember Stellar.
  • This is the control panel for the HoloSuite from which this setting was recreated.
  • It's a funeral. Act appropriately.
  • That's Dorff, the DeepShip's nearsighted and relatively clueless security chief.
  • Ladies and/or gentleman, we assemble here today to honor the memory of a former crewmate, Lieutenant First Class Stellar Santiago. Her unfortunate death takes place in the shadow of a new community, the dawning of a new life for the aged of our galaxy.
  • Although death is never easy to accept, we must remember that the tragic accident which took her from our midst occurred while she was on duty. If a member of StarCon must perish for some reason, there is no more honorable way. It is part of the oath we recite and take to heart when we pledge our allegiance.
  • I believe her friend, Janitor Second Class Roger Wilco has a few words he'd like to say. Mr. Wilco?
  • Uh ...
  • I only knew Stellar for, uh, a short time. I wish I, uh, could have gotten to know her much, uh, much, uh, better, to have had a deeper understanding of this, uh, person I was proud to have called ... friend.
  • Of my friend I can say only say this: Of all the soles I have encountered in my cleaning, (EMOTIONAL PAUSE) hers were the most scu... (VOICE BREAKING) SCUFF-RESISTANT!
  • Crewmen begin to dig a hole in the presumably holographic terrain.
  • Wait a second. Something seems wrong about that.
  • Ashes to ashes, dust to duaaaaaaaahhh...
  • Pay no attention to them. They're just extras we hired to fill the room.
  • A small section of iron-looking fence helps lend to the illusion of increased depth even though you know the real size of the HoloSuite.
  • Stellar's coffin sits awaiting the finish of the service.
  • Come on! You know him!
  • It's the familiar ComPost transporter pad -- the only device to break up the otherwise soothing setting.
  • It's a holographic gravedigger.
  • This setting is idyllic. You know in a place deep inside of you, despite your emotional thickness, that this is what Stellar would have wanted.
  • The sky is the proverbial azure that so many humans find soothing and reminiscent of home (unless, of course, they're from LA or Denver).
  • Visually perfect trees -- described by some higher handicap types as Golfball Trajectory Adjusters -- add a beauty and serenity to the setting. Yes, Stellar would have liked this. (Especially if she weren't the center of attention.)
  • The sensor pad feels warm and smooth -- like a laminated baby's bottom.
  • This is the tube bottom.
  • This is the intake/exhaust tube for the on-ship transporter. This is what sucks you here and there.
  • The yellow flowers, even though synthetically created, are very reminiscent of ones you once witnessed in a hallucination.


  • Stellar, you picked up my homing signal! I ... I can't believe I actually made it work. Now no one can say I spent a little bit too much free time in the bathroom with Popular Tecktronics.
  • Popular Tecktronics. Who are you trying to kid? I know what you were "reading" in there.
  • What was that voice, Roger? I thought I heard something.
  • Pay no attention, Stellar. It was probably just, ah, mechanical flatulence from the ship.
  • Anyway, we received a transmission from a nearby StarCon communications monitoring platform. They told us of some unusual signal originating from the area of Polysorbate LX. We dialed it in, scanned the coordinates, and found you.
  • So, what are you doing in this sector, Stellar? I thought you were stationed on the SCS Heinz 57.
  • I am. I had some leave accumulated and decided to take it. Uh, this is kind of embarrassing for me.
  • I actually came to see you. I've been thinking about you a lot lately and I was curious about what you'd been up to, so I decided to visit. When I arrived here I found you had just left for shore leave on Polysorbate. I decided to follow you down and try and catch up with you.
  • When I got to that dump of an inn and found you'd been kidnapped by those thugs, I searched around but could find no trace of where they'd taken you. That certainly is a strange place.
  • I decided to beam back up to the deepship and try to locate you through your transport communicator signal. When I'd returned, I found you'd left it up here on the ship. I didn't know what to do then, until that call came through from the StarCon installation. You're a lucky man, Wilco.
  • Uh, yeah, I ... I guess I am.
  • If you hadn't gotten there when you did, I'd probably be a victim of some serious cement poisoning after those geeks chucked me off that balcony.
  • Terrace.
  • What?
  • Well, actually it was a terrace.
  • Whatever.
  • Thanks, Stellar. I sure owe you a big one.
  • I'd sure like to collect that sometime.
  • But let's talk about you and me. Perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime soon.
  • I'd like that, Stellar. I'd like that a lot.
  • The thing is that I kind of have a ... kind of a, relationship with another and I wouldn't feel very comfortable about that. I mean, it ... it wouldn't be fair to her. Do you understand?
  • (TO HIMSELF) Not to mention the fact I'd be wearing my sphincter for a necklace if Beatrice ever found out.
  • I hope you do understand, Stellar. I like you. I ... I think I even more than like you. I don't know where I got this inordinate sense of loyalty toward Beatrice.
  • I believe the word that explains that is FEAR.
  • Pound sand, Pal!
  • Pardon?
  • Never mind. I was just clearing my throat, uh ... must be a furball.
  • Please know that, were the situation any different, I'd be making that date with you right now.
  • Oh, I see. Friends, coworkers, buddies -- that's all this is going to be. Guess I knew it somewhere inside, I just didn't want to believe it.
  • I guess I admire your trueness of heart, however misplaced, but I feel much more inclined to damn you for it. I know, that's selfish, but it's how I feel.
  • I must admit that it shows something more about you, more depth of character than I gave you credit for, Wilco. Well, I'm patient. If you ever have a change of heart ... (PAUSE)
  • (SUDDENLY MUCH MORE BUSINESSLIKE AND PROFESSIONAL) Well, Roger, um ... we should, ah ... we should see what we can find out about those subhuman walking dumpsters that had such a keen interest in you. I don't suppose you heard their names?
  • No, but I did get this neat Personal Grooming Assistant. It needs a little cleaning, but ...
  • That's great, Roger! Don't clean it, though. Take it to the Sickbay. There's a DNA analyzer there. We can scan the contents and perhaps use the results to get some names and information about these guys.
  • Good thinking, Stellar. I probably would've thought of it -- eventually.
  • Yeah, I'm sure you would have, Roger. Look, I've got to go to Sickbay and get some treatment for my back after that not-so-graceful rescue.
  • Oh, yeah, that. Uh, Sorry. Well um, I'll see you there.
  • This is the trusty ComPost, as found in all other locations aboard DeepShip 86.
  • I wouldn't try that if I were you. He may not react too favorably.
  • This is the Transporter control panel. The droid assigned here handles all transport duties from this station.
  • You give it a tap but nothing happens.
  • Any unassimilated sub-atomic particles from the transport process are deposited here. This helps to keep the transporter pads dust-free. And don't worry, they almost never have any problems with important parts not making it through the transport process properly.
  • It's a sealed component. The seal would not be necessary were it not for curious losers like yourself.
  • It's a flux condenser. You haven't a clue what it does, but it looks kind of cool.
  • That was fine for Polysorbate but you can't do that here.
  • These pipes recirculate the used coolant from the Transport scanner, recooling it enroute.
  • It's tolerant of humans -- to a point. You'd best leave it alone and get back to business.
  • This droid is the teleporter station technician. It's all business.
  • It's interested only in its job. It has not one speck of personality. In fact, it could make you look like the life of any party.
  • This is one of the transporter pads. Crew members stand here while the transporter sequence is initiated. This places them in the target area for the subatomic particle scanner located above each one.
  • This isn't Polysorbate. They build things a little better on these StarCon tubs. Not a lot, but better.
  • The Transport Room is a very important place aboard any StarCon ship, and for safety reasons tends to be one of the cleanest. You ought to know.
  • It's called a superstructure. You hardly fit the description of someone who could have the slightest effect on it. Besides, you don't want to mess with something that maintains the structural integrity of the ship.
  • But then, it is you we're talking about here. Nonetheless, pay no more attention to it.
  • Due to its proximity within the ship, many of the superstructure elements of DeepShip pass through the Transport Chamber.
  • You'll probably remember this quite well since abandoning ... er, escaping from dangerous situations. After all, it is your forte.
  • The Transport alcove contains transport pads for up to five crew members and/or supplies. Above each is a subatomic particle scanner.
  • They're useless to you as well as to the ship.
  • No one's perfect. If you were able to see slightly higher than the graphic allows you'd notice that the pipes mysteriously end as if an error had been made in the ship's design.


  • Sometime later in 8-Rear ...
  • Hello, Roger. Please join me in consuming something.
  • (SLIGHTLY DEJECTED) Thanks, Sydney.
  • You seem ... uptight.
  • Say what? Upright? What're you talking about, Sydney?
  • Uptight was the word. Perhaps that is too archaic a reference for you. It would have been more effective to say that you seem concerned.
  • Oh. Yeah, I do have a thing or two ... well, at least something, on my mind.
  • I am sorry to hear this. I hope your concerns are soon alleviated.
  • Thanks, Syd. I do have to come up with some solutions.
  • Yeah, just walk over and feel 'em up. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. And we're sure you'll enjoy it when you're the recipient of some nice phaser blast ventilation.
  • Don't interrupt them. They're on break. Besides, you stand less of a chance of being insulted or shot down. A guy can only take so much of that.
  • I guess I should pick up Sydney's arm before someone hurls and I end up having to clean it up.
  • This is your standard ComPost panel, where you can get information, travel to other ship locations, or just pretend to be doing some work.
  • ComPosts don't respond to voice commands. What do you think this is, science fiction?
  • The ComPost pad feels hard and rounded, like standing on a giant contact lens.
  • (And you'll notice it appears to follow you around the room!)
  • Nice pad!
  • Wow, this guy's really pounding down the popcorn. If he keeps it up at this rate, an intervention may be called for.
  • Now this guy is a cool one. He's slammin' brews, like many of the folks on the Space Quest team are going to do once they ship this chart buster.
  • A couple of female crewmembers, neither of which have ever given you the time of starday, are sitting and gabbing away, completely ignoring the poor slob who sat down to introduce himself. Don't worry, that would never happen to you.
  • This poor slob is trying to impress the two women he's sitting near by showing them how much he can drink. Yeah, that's always a sure way to impress the babes.
  • Two women looking very much like girl scouts are badgering the poor alien-looking guy they're sitting with. They must be trying to unload more of those damn cookies.

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