The Final Battle

[Zanten]

I had done it. Traveled to Antoria, faced their Dreadnaught in a battle that would echo through the ages; it had been a hard fight. By the time the enemy ship finally detonated, my ship was a wreck; the bridge, long since abandoned, was pretty much wreathed in flames, my engine room had been breached in two places, and I had used up all my torpedo and dodge capabilities, even as my medical staff worked to treat my crew's bountiful boo-boos. Still, there was the glow of pride, of accomplishment, and when I saw an admittedly darker-shaded human ship, I didn't pay much attention to the accompanying text that, in retrospect, was probably warning me that these weren't friendlies.

Forgetting Rule Number One of Indie Space Games ("Expect The Carrot To Be Moved Unexpectedly,") and admittedly a bit braindead from being up at four in the morning, I answered the ship's hail without pausing to make repairs, thinking I was going to be getting my celebratory kudos and cake.

But no. No! Nein! Instead I saw Admiral McJerkface rambling about something something Kill You something something Ruined Everything something something KHAAAAN! And before you know it, I'm in a fresh fight. Without any torpedos. Or dodge...ness...

Damnit.

Look! Shields down!

DAMNIT.

Now I'm being boarded!

RAWR.

It took about four minutes and two boarding parties for everything to descend into utter chaos. All seemed lost! I had three new, randomly placed hull breeches along the upper segment of my ship, cutting my crew off from the dodge generator, and too many baddies to really risk getting a repair team up there on the rare occasions the shields were still up. Firefights were constant around my tactical systems, and when a third boarding party invaded, I was forced to evacuate my laser cannon; my crew fell back, firing and healing, until I crammed the lot of them into the torpedo bay...

And there they cowered, killing whichever boarders happened to wander in without mercy, kept healthy and intact by the medical staff who'd joined them. The two assigned tactical officers busily cranked out torpedos, each volley of which was launched at Admiral McJerkface's trash barge/battlecruiser. The rest of the battle continued thus, in a pattern of Produce Torpedo, Fire Torpedo, Rinse and Repeat, until finally, Ding Dong, The Dork Is Dead! I had more hull breaches than I had hull, and most of the ship looked like the resting place of an honored Viking chieftain, but before long I got to go and trade it in for a shiny, new cruiser, straight out of the packaging!

Victory. Sweet, sweet frosted victory.

....until time looped and I found Admiral McJerkface was giving me orders again.


....KAAAAAAAHHHHNNNN!



Disclaimer: This is a decidedly dramatized version. In truth, I'd been using the cram-them-in-the-torpedo-room strategy for the last half dozen battles without fail. Just sounded neater this way.

[Zavier]

Haha That sounds pretty scary...

[XXXXX]

#woahcloseshave
#almostdied
#baddiesdefeated
#sweetsweetvictory
#hashtag

[suni123]

I had done it. Traveled to Antoria, faced their Dreadnaught in a battle that would echo through the ages; it had been a hard fight. By the time the enemy ship finally detonated, my ship was a wreck; the bridge, long since abandoned, was pretty much wreathed in flames, my engine room had been breached in two places, and I had used up all my torpedo and dodge capabilities,