Space Station 13 - Space Asshole

[Verse 1]
In 2125
I was on a mining colony
On mars
Just a quiet backwater facility
Among the stars
And then one day
I was minding my own business
I was mining my own ore
And there he was

Space asshole
In a truck flying off a ridge
Space asshole
Smashing through a bridge
And as he landed, out came his hammer
Smashed my boss right in the face
Space asshole
Planting charges left and right
Space asshole
All he does is annihilate and fight

[Verse 2]
I didn’t sign up for this
I just wanted to get away
Somewhere remote
Just a place where I can earn myself a day’s pay
Without being smote
But every time I think I’m safe
Every time I think it’s calm
I am wrong

Space asshole
Hammer swinging, buildings falling down
Space asshole
Laying waste to this entire town

Now all the rest are dead
Space asshole has prevailed
Only I am left alive to tell the tale of

Space asshole
Comes out of nowhere to destroy
Space asshole
Wanton carnage is all he can enjoy
Space asshole
In a truck, flying off a ridge
Space asshole
Smashing through a bridge

Space asshole
Space asshole
Space asshole
He’s the space asshole

(Ha ha i copy pasted this from youtube and that guy also copy and pasted it now give me radiit glod)

1 Like

Is that the same ppl that made Mr douchebag

Ray Willian Johnson.
A fragment of a bygone era.

Yeah i knew it he looked like him, same as the cartoon version

The entire script in paragrahps you can copy paste into captains announce

Hey hey, people! Sseth here! Today, I’ll be covering a very niche, very infamous, and very AUTISTIC game, that everyone’s asked me to cover since day one. A game where you, and many other real, living people with questionable social intelligence, roleplay together on the worst space station in the universe. Where aliens, shape-shifters and traitors working for rival corporations are the least of your concern. Where the greatest threat to your existence are your OWN crew members. Hungry? Come to the station canteen, where the food is DEFINITELY poisoned. Injured? Head on down to Medical, where half the medication has been relabeled as “Happy Pills” Discouraged? You can try taking a pain killer instead. But it wasn’t a pain killer… …it was LSD. Having a bad trip? Don’t worry, there’s a Security officer nearby to help! But he can’t respond. Because he was murdered and replaced by a genetically modified monkey wearing his uniform. Hallucinating?

Keep calm and focus on what’s real. Unfortunately for you, the supermassive black hole expanding towards you is NOT a hallucination. It is, in fact, VERY real. Welcome… to Space Station 13! Space Station 13 has a very simple premise: Everyone has a job. Your objective: Do your best to delay the station’s inevitable destruction. Either at the hands of antagonists, or at the hands of your own incompetent crew. Normally, I’d give a final score for a game at the end of a video. Not this time. Space Station 13: 10 out of 10. Amazing! Spectacular! DON’T PLAY IT! If I’m being perfectly honest with you, Space Station 13 is a fantastic game, but I genuinely don’t recommend you play it. Why?

Because the engine it’s running on is probably older than you. Because the interface is a convoluted mess, and only usable because me, and every other autistic chimpanzee who plays this game, has committed the hotkeys to muscle memory. Because of the insane time investment and commitment required for you to learn a single role. And because, to be perfectly honest, the servers can’t handle all of you. At best, we can handle, like, 30 extra players before you grind the servers to a halt. For all these reasons, Space Station 13 always was, and always will be, a niche title. And maybe, that’s for the best. But, I can offer you something else. I’ve already killed your hopes and dreams of playing the game. So instead, let me share some stories of my wonderful experience with Space Station 13. These stories span several years, and several different servers; the names of which will forever stay anonymous.

Because, I respect their privacy. And, because I have received threats from some of the more -colorful- servers to not mention them by name… …or else. What’s gonna to happen if I don’t comply? Are they gonna… hire a Bitcoin assassin to run me over with his mobility scooter Is he gonna… stab me with his insulin pen? I… don’t know. But between you and me: I hate having cum delivered to my mailbox, and would prefer to keep it that way. Anyway, I remember the first time playing Space Station VERY vividly. My friends told me to download it, and hop on some shitty server. It had felinds and erotic roleplay. More on that… later. I entered the round as an assistant. My job- to give assistance… and to get my hands burned off trying to hack into places I don’t have access to. As I’m screwing around with airlock wires, my friend comes running down the hallway, dragging someone’s unconscious body.
Frantically, he tells me -Sseth! Quick! Can you open this door?- Sensing the urgency in his voice, I do. He throws the body inside and sprints away.

The airlock closes. 3 seconds later, something explodes. -What the fuck was that?- I ask. -Oh yeah, I fed him potassium and water pills. It takes a while to metabolize-. My friend had just murdered a man in cold blood, by turning his body into a living, ticking, potassium bomb. As soon as the man’s digestive juices cracked through the potassium tablet, it reacted violently with the water in his stomach and exploded, killing him from inside out. After such a horrific display of homicide, I realized -Hey… this game’s pretty good!- Fast forward a few weeks, and I am learning roles, calling shots and ignoring every single rule of the server. I also ignored every single rule of medicine. I was a surgeon; top of my class, destined to go where no licensed professional ever has.Also, my friend’s girlfriend started playing with us. To put it bluntly, she wasn’t very good. But she WAS very interested in progressing the medical field in any way possible.

Cargo had just delivered us some complementary pizza, as thanks for patching up their boys after they got a little too intimate with the Xenomorphs on Mining Station. Brilliance flashed before my eyes- my pupils widened. I started physically sweating. Because, she said the words I’ve always dreamt of hearing: -Please…- -turn me into a pizza- And so, I got to work! Nurse! Get me my scalpel, tweezers, protractor, bone gel and the rest of the unfinished pizza. One horrified clown watched in the operating theater as I cleanly hacked off and cauterized her hands and feet. I opened the pizza box and began attaching her new, cheesy limbs. -Help! Sec to surgery!- the clown blurted out. -He’s turning her into a Papa John’s- The head of medical stormed in with a host of security officers to detain me but they were too late. Her hands and feet had already been replaced.

Surprisingly, she could walk just fine on a pair of pizza feet But her lack of opposable pizza thumbs meant that she couldn’t really hold anything, let alone pick them up in the first place. However, her pizza hands did make for a convenient and portable source of nutrition. Despite her numerous protests that she consented to the surgery, The head of medical demoted me on the spot and banned me from ever practicing medicine, claiming that -You can’t consent to being a pizza- I was thrown in jail for the rest of the round. Clearly, there was no appreciation for the arts on this station. So, many rounds later, me and my friends found a new purpose: Cleaning up the server, one erotic furry roleplay at a time Using telecommunications agitand metacommunications, I expertly pinpointed areas of high homosexual intent. Namely, the dorm rooms and the showers.

As two Khajiit-looking cat-men meet privately with one another, they will, inevitably, start writing words such as: -[Redacted]- and -[Redacted]-. This is COMPLETELY unacceptable. Once an act of high homosexual intent is in motion, several of our men would mobilize. As they groan, moan and spit out hairballs on each other, a security officer would barge in, flashbang the feline fornicators, and tag-team baton them into submission, before another officer handcuffs them to the bed. On the other side of the contaminated dorm room, our team’s atmospheric technician sets explosive C4 charges against the station glass. Quickly, we evacuate the biohazard exclusion zone and seal the airlocks. Homeo and Juliet barely have enough time to recover from the flashbang, before the charges detonate, depressurizing the room and sucking their bodies out into the black vacuum of space. Another job well done.

Many explosive decompressions later, erotic roleplay was considered a real occupational hazard. The Tajaran cat-boys got creative… started doing -group sessions- instead. But these were quickly crushed by my friend playing the best roboticist I have ever seen in my life. The airlock doors to their sodomy chamber were welded shut to prevent interruptions. So, he drilled right through them with a gigantic combat mech The air inside was heavy with a sickly sweet smell of wet furballs and toxoplasmosis. The furries didn’t even have time to react, before he started unloading shell after shell of flashbang grenades. And thus, we all got banned. We paid the price. But to see half the server get flashbanged unconscious for 10 minutes straight- Priceless! The server… didn’t last long anyway. The admin’s mom shut it down as soon as she saw the electricity bill. So, me and my friends went on to enrich other servers. I even got good at being a chemist.

In other words, I always stole the syringe gun at the start of the round and filled it with lethal doses of chloral hydrate. For my own protection, of course. I also gave whatever chemical anyone requested, which gives me some moral ambiguity and 2 degrees of separation from any pranks or murders that took place as a result of said chemicals. If a clown asks for space lube, he’s gonna get space lube. One time, a clown managed to lube the entire hallway outside of medical, all the way to Departures. Now, Departures is usually the place where the escape shuttle docks to get us out of our quickly burning heap of a station. However, if there is no call for a shuttle, Departures is completely empty… …besides the airlock, which the clown had hacked open. Several people came running through medical, slipped on the space lube, and accelerated themselves face first into the infinite vacuum of space.

Security figured out it was the clown. And in true security fashion… …also slipped on the space lube. With most of the crew floating around dead in space, the station had to be evacuated. He was later banned from playing clown ever again. Several rounds later, I finally spawned as a traitor. And I had… no idea what I was doing. But I wanted my first time to be special. Conveniently, an assistant comes in, bleeding all over because he was probably trying break into the armory without insulated gloves. His character sprite had maximum melanin and an afro. His roleplay friendly name was… “Muh Dick”. An idiot, but a useful idiot. There were no medical staff on hand except me. So I said -Hey, I know a little bit of surgery. Lemme fix you up-. I put him under general anesthetic and took out my Syndicate PDA. With this, I can discreetly teleport a few traitor items into my inventory to help me achieve my objective.

Which, in this case, was murdering the Head of Security. I ordered two sets of voice-activated explosives, which trigger upon hearing the recorded code phrase. I set this to the word most likely to be spoken by this mentally [REDACTED] human being. Can you guess… what that is? I surgically opened his ass and inserted the first of the explosives. Then, I lodged the second one neatly inside his chest cavity. Closing them up, I took off the anesthetic and began to put my plan in action. I would arm this simple-minded moron with illegal weaponry with the hopes that security would detain him on possession charges. I gave him all the LSD, all the chloral hydrate syringes, and an entire spray bottle of space lube. I had expertly equipped him to be the ultimate griefing machine.

Proud of my work, I gave him a hug and set him loose on the world. But just before he left medical he turned around and said, “THANKS [Redacted]” And we both exploded. My other times playing antagonist went… about just as well. Once, I started as the leader of a cult Our objective was to seize control of the station, and sacrifice our mortal bodies to summon a physical manifestation of our Dark god However, I wasn’t very good at it. And neither were my servants. We found a nice, quiet and, most importantly, abandoned bar, near the north end of the station, which we began redecorating with our own blood. You see, cultists need to learn a set of ancient words that’s randomly generated every round. If you arrange them in the right order, you can perform different spells, and rituals to advance your goals. We… didn’t get far. Because the most dangerous thing to an incompetent cult is a single crew member doing their job. The fuckin janitor found us.

We tried to negotiate, convince him that it’s actually crayon and not blood, all over the floor. But that didn’t work. So we tried to murder him instead. That… didn’t work either. He used his mop to slip us with soapy water, and ran off to call security. As you can see, I’m not very proficient at being a traitor. More often, I find myself being abused by traitors. Some of the worst offenders in this regard, are definitely wizards; since wizards have a bad tendency to sexually abuse me as well. Not too long ago, me and my friends played a round that was already in progress. As soon as we entered, we realized something… was very wrong. An announcement played on the radio: -Penis inspection day is now in affect- -All crew members must report to Doc. Johnson for their mandatory penis inspection-.

Doc. Johnson was, very clearly, a wizard. I knew what was coming. And yet, I resigned myself to fate, and went to medical reception. Doc. Johnson was overjoyed to have new patients. He lead to a private room, asked me if I’m circumcised, and told me that I passed the inspection with flying colors. -What a surprise?- I thought -He is not actually gonna grief me-. But… I was wrong. As I turned away to leave, he… blew off my ass… …magically. Hey, it’s wizardry. I ain’t gotta explain shit. Anyway, Doc. Johnson is a terrible doctor. He left me bleeding on the floor, as he took my ass cheeks and… …used them as a hat. Highly unprofessional. Would not recommend. A round of Space Station 13 can be very intense, and other times, it can be very slow-paced and almost relaxing. If you’re not a traitor and you don’t have anything urgent to handle, you can always just roleplay, and get comfy in a bar.

While the piano plays anime songs, and the jukebox plays whatever deep-fried ASMR bullshit people keep putting on. It’s a very wholesome experience, and it helps you get emotionally invested with the other members of your crew; which are often nice people. However, Security is often staffed by egotistical megalomaniacs; acting out their most depraved power fantasies. They are often… not nice people. As a result of their inherent propensity to be insane sociopaths, the rest of the crew will often rebel against their tyranny. In one such case, Cargo had declared independence. Security refused to recognize the Independent Station State of Cargonia. So they tried to barge their way in and arrest everyone involved, including me!

But Security was unprepared for the trap we had in store. One officer rushed into cargo bay and slipped on a banana peel, straight into the conveyor belt waiting for him. He tried repeatedly to get back up, only to be tripped again by an ocean of banana peels on the conveyor belt, which looped around in a circle. Surrounding that circle was another circle, composed entirely of vending machines. The officer was also being brutally assaulted by several hundred cans of soda. The vending machines were hacked and, as a result, they would continuously fire drinks at whoever is in the area. Each officer that slipped into the banana belt, got smashed unconscious by a relentless stream of Discount Dan Soda trademark All rights reserved. After extensive head trauma by our soda turrets, Security reluctantly accepted Cargonia’s independence and their right to bear arms. If there is one department that has more revolutions than Cargo, it would have to be Science! And it’s easy to understand why.

We spend our lives researching away, for the good of the station which does, of course, carry its own share of risks and hazards. Sometimes, accidents happen. Sooner or later, some bored and an assistant will try and put a Bag of Holding into another Bag of Holding. And Security can’t always comprehend that we’re not directly responsible for the resulting black hole eating through the kitchen. This lack of appreciation for the scientific profession usually ends with arrest warrants for the whole department, which is usually answered back with the words “I’d like to see you try”. But when we’re not having a nuclear arms race with Security, R&D is actually quite a chill department. I also made a great discovery last time I played there. Me and another scientist were messing around with blueprints and eventually made ourselves a pneumatic cannon. Normally, these are used to launch whatever items you have inside. What we didn’t know was that it could also launch food as well.

I loaded a lasagna, aimed for the mouth and fired it at my fellow researcher. The lasagna disappeared! -What the hell?! That’s amazing!- he said. We’d just realized what happened. I had just managed to remotely force feed my fellow man. But what do we do with this forbidden knowledge? Nothing good, that’s for sure. My comrade got to work asking chemistry for hallucinogenic drugs. They said no. So, we built our own chemistry dispensers, filled up the beakers with -Happy Juice- and ran straight to the kitchen. We injected all the donuts and hot pockets we could find with as much LSD and mind-breaker toxins as they could hold. Then, we loaded them into our food delivery system and started firing off at everyone at the hallways. The food was instantly delivered- the crew was instantly satisfied. Several people, including Security officers, managed to see the two small lines of text indicating that they’ve just been fed something.

They thought it was extremely clever and said they didn’t know the pneumatic cannon could do that. Since it was just a bit of harmless fun, we got off scot-free. Minutes later, the hallucinations started. Crew members started screaming on the radio. Some were puking, shaking or convulsing on the ground. Medical couldn’t keep up with the bodies. They piled on too quick. And most of the doctors were too busy fighting off non-existent entities to do anything about it. The chemist, who originally refused to give us LSD, was arrested by Security, on suspicion of intentional food poisoning. It was complete pandemonium! And I think it illustrates perfectly the chaos that is Space Station 13. That’s all I have for you today, folks. There is, of course, more stories to tell but we’d… literally be here for hours Space Station 13- a marvelous, unique and incredibly shitty game. 10 out of 10! DON’T PLAY IT!

Because if you do, they’re gonna blame it on me! And I hate having cum in my mailbox! As always, more content to come. So stay tuned! On other news, I started a SubscribeStar account. So if you’d like to invest, and don’t want to give your money to Patreon, now you can! A warm thanks to the many members of The Merchant’s Guild™®; generously funding and bankrolling these videos. You’re all truly “wonderful”! Have a good one.


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