h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

[In front of Yar's house, there's a loud noise that sounds like "PHONG!" and an orange portal appears, and out flies a large white spaceship with a design which calls to mind a paper airplane. The portal closes behind it with a "SMOOSH!" and it lands, then powers down; Yar gets out of a hatch on the side and dusts his hands off, grinning.]

*slowly fades into the picture, trying to read a bad copy of a flyer of some sort*

I seem to remember being an engineer/mechanic of some sort during the last space adventure I took part in. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I was an arms dealer aboard the space station. Which would be more useful this time around? Or I could play a "Q" (as in Bond, not Star Trek) type and be both!

PLOP! [A specter of Lentilla appears, grinning maniacally and waving a mojito. Her appearance is undefined at this point.]

Probably the mechanic; we're unlikely to need any arms-dealing.


[Yar waves to those just arriving, then slips back inside the spacecraft, which sortly thereafter transforms into a somewhat bulkier shape that looks like it can accomodate passengers.]

[Mr. D fades in to view with an appearance that can best be described as Steampunk-Napoleonic. He is wearing a dark red coatee (similar to that which James Marsters wore in Torchwood recently), black high-waist trousers with braces and a simple white tunic. On his feet are a pair of highly polished knee-high DMs. A blaster sits on his right hip in a cross draw position and in a scabbard on his left is the cutlass Ag got him for his birthday. Slung on his right shoulder is an old-fashioned British army canvas back pack.]

Not quite Star Wars, but nifty nonetheless.

[Lentilla emerges from the mists of uncertainty, or at least we assume it's Lentilla. If Lentilla was a seven-foot Wookie with bright pink fur, that is. Her fur shades to magenta at the roots, but don't tell her, as she's sensitive about her appearance. Across her shoulder is the regulation Wookie utility belt, with a dissassembled bowcaster.]

Guuaraagghaha! [She picks her teeth with one sharp claw.]

[Yar nods, waving to the other new arrivals, and pauses a moment to see if anyone else will show up.]

I'm going with a description based on Lil's artwork of Irving Washington, rather than a description of myself.


*Irv walks out from around the other side of the ship, as though he'd been back there the whole time. He is wearing a goo-blue coverall style jumpsuit his red earring gleams in the light. His black hair, which has been getting shaggy of late, is slicked back, not deliberately, but rather because he's mostly covered in engine grease. Which is odd, as this particular starship doesn't have a greasy engine. He stares through his omnipresent CLI brand sunglasses at a clipboard. He holds a pen in his teeth and tuggs at his goatee with some concern*

Yeah, you're in pretty good condition for take off, but I'm afraid that the ship's not going to be able to morph again any time soon. All this grease all over me is morphonium, and you're leaking it worse than... a rather leaky thing. I can stop the leak, but we're gonna be stuck in this configuration unless we get a shipment.

[Yar] Oh, hi, Irv. I don't know where you got that morphoneum from, but this ship [taps the side] runs on pure Improbability. It's got a pair of Bambleweeny 57 Sub-Meson brains hooked up to each other -- one of them dedicated to simulating the Brownian motion of a nice hot cup of tea and plotting the atomic vectors, thus generating the necessary Improbability -- a finite amount, to be sure, but enough to generate a portal which, by a /fantastic/ coincidence, leads where we want to go. I call this the Unlikely Drive. [frowns] I'm still having trouble coming up with a good name for the ship itself, though ... I'm sort of leaning towards Modulus, and the onboard AI is named Medus, or maybe Midas, as sort of a stupid contrived pun on Romulus and Remus.

[Yar, by the way, is a young man in his early twenties, with dishelved (spiky, when drawn anime-style) black hair. He's wearing a bright red jacket (unzipped), blue jeans (zipped), an H2G2 T-shirt (no zipper), and a matching set of bright metallic greaves and fingerless gauntlets. At his hip is a large katana named Touhou. See A26765175 for further information on what to expect from him (I haven't written an entry on the gauntlets yet).]

Yar, you were leaking this stuff. I've sealed it off with CLI brand duct tape for now, but it was oozing out all over. The tape will hold up to an improbability level of infinity minus .0000000009, which means that it's almost certain to hold no matter what, but remember that once we pass that threshold, "almost certain to hold" becomes "almost certain to be grilled cheese." Grilled cheese is by far the least effective binding agent in a vaccum, and believe me, I've tested several.

I don't know what your ship uses the Morphoneum for, but if we don't want to be covered in it, we'll need something stronger than duct tape, even the kind Affy and GL make, which is all surplus, anyway.

And just in case, let's keep this shape for the time being.

I saw a gentleman yesterday with REAL anime hair - his afro had been cut into tapering pyramids, just like one of those spiky-haired heroes on Pokemon.

Hrahowarughahghrah! [Lentilla whacks the side of the spaceship with one furry paw. She brandishes a previously unseen wrench, presumably from a marsupial pouch or some utility belt hidden under the fur.]

*taps clipboard, then pretends he speaks Wookie, assuming Yar doesn't*

Whoa, Lentilla! We can't go breaking his legs with that thing just yet. *turns to Yar* She has a point, though. You have secured the proper supplies and... made arrangements for our pay, right?

[rolls his eyes] Yes, that won't be a problem. I'm planning on making a few stops anyway, and the first place we go will be the Space Station, where I'll transfer the. Not that the entire trip should be THAT long, barring unforesen circumstances, since the travel time will generally be "five minutes" ... I think I've just jinxed it. Oh well! Who's coming?

[He steps towards the hatch, then turns back.]

Oh, by the way, I wouldn't try breaking my shins while I'm wearing these puppies. These guantlets and greaves -- I've named the set Beowulf -- they're made of a nigh-invulnerable alloy of adamantium, cortosis, and the material they make Metool helmets out of, meaning they can deflect lightsabers and all manner of weapons fire, and if the ship were to get blown up, they'd most likely *survive*. I made them by ... well, you see, successfully creating them was virtually impossible. Which means this had a finite improbability.

Er, scratch that "Beowulf" -- I meant to put "Grendel" there instead.

*checks clipboard*

Well, other than that, you're all ready for takeoff!

*Aside: Irv has a well established familiarity with improbability physics, having operated his Infinite Improbability Espresso Machine for years now. Amongst other functions, his CLI shades allow him to do improbability calculations in his head, and inspect and diagnose problems with the improbability drive. They do not, however, help him notice when his shoes are untied. As he boards the ship, therefore, he trips up the ramp, and stubs his nose, which hurts*

Ow.

[Lentilla shambles up the ramp, snorting in laughter at Irv's injury... ]

[Yar rolls his eyes and goes inside. The interior of the ship resembles the exterior; there's nothing particularly in the way of decor, inasmuch as it would just disappear the next time the ship transformed. Yar makes his way to the front, where the cockpit's chair is in front of a blank panel; he sits down, and a reasonably complicated control scheme materializes in front of him. He starts tapping at controls, getting things ready.]

*Irv crawls up the ramp, in a desperate attempt to get onboard before either the ship takes off with him hanging of the side, or someone else decides to join the crew, doesn't notice him lying on the ramp, and puts a boot in his backside*

[Strolls up the ramp, not apparently concerned about the imminent take-off.]

So, where are we off to?

sorry, would've posted sooner but I've been LARPing this weekend.