Previously on “All My Morons,” Shion threw her requisite once-a-recap bitchfit, half the ship stroked KOS-MOS in her sleep, and poor Ziggy and MOMO unwittingly doomed themselves to an indefinite amount of time in the company of wankers and wangs. When we last left them, the Elsa, its crew members, and stowaways were heading for the Dock Colony for repairs. But forget about those losers for a while: we’ve got new space-age weirdos to meet.
We start out back in space. I know this game is space-themed and all, but a little switch-up with the backdrops once in a while would be nice, yeah? Over the exciting view of a nebula, a dorky-sounding male voice says, “It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her…” Before I can even register what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, the view changes to show the owner of the voice, sitting inside an A.G.W.S. in the middle of space. I know I’m in trouble already because he’s prepubescent illegal a vital young man with lovely red hair. Let’s just say I have a slight weakness for those. He also has the gayest earring ever. Boy Candy continues, “She felt as if she were being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle.” At this point I’m not sure if his monologue makes no sense because it really doesn’t make sense, or if I’m at the “Huh huh, you purty, no talkie” stage of our relationship. Quite probably it’s both. [Edit! Boy Candy is quoting The Wizard of Oz. Which I should have known. Derp.]
It seemed before like Boy Candy was talking to himself, but now he says, “All’s quiet after the storm. There’s no trace of anything. Over.” Okay, maybe he still is talking to himself–he got his toy A.G.W.S. and went out into space to play Galaxy Ranger or something. Awww. “I wonder…” he goes on, “does that lake of darkness where Nero does his fishing look something like this?” Yeah, it looks like a completely odd thing to say written out like that, but to hear him actually speak it out loud is almost a surreally stupid experience. In other words: who sold the 12 year old the crack?
Cut to the bridge of a spaceship, where Boy Candy is onscreen. “You’re quite the poet today, Little Master,” a blonde girl with a huge rack and a bad Southern accent says. But forget her: hee! “Little Master”! The woman thrusts her boobies at the screen and asks Little Master (hee again!) what kind of shit he’s smoking today. “Read some books, Mary,” he says, and it really looks like he’s staring at her knockers. “It’s good for you!” Mary–now named Chesty LaRue–pulls a total Shion and tells Little Master how books are soooooooooo 4000 years ago, because they’re old and heavy and laaaame. “Paper and stone tablets last longer than optical data, you know,” Little Master replies. So Little Master is like a redheaded, underaged version of Jin? This is almost too much for me to handle, folks. And as if all that isn’t enough, he adds, “Besides, reading a book helps get me to sleep.” And now I have that mental image. I’m going to Hell.
NO!!!
Getting back to business, Little Master asks what they’re picking up on their sensors on the ship. Another lady is seated near Chesty, and she tells Little Master they’re picking up jack shit. Like Chesty, she has ample cleavage, but she has lavender tresses and speaks in a hypnotic monotone rather than a twang. I only bring this up because they’re supposedly sisters. There’s too much wrong with this for me to even go into it.
Little Master is all surprised that nothing is coming up on the sensors. “If it was a giant flare,” he says, “it should’ve at least left behind some high-energy particles.” Out in space, his A.G.W.S. stops dramatically on a dime. “How could that be…” he wonders aloud. “An entire planet was here just a little while ago.” Oh, I get what’s going on now. And I think that might be the first time in this entire game I’ve said that without any implied sarcasm.
While Little Master reflects some more, his spaceship comes to fetch him. I’m sure you guys are cackling to yourselves right now, “Oh boy oh boy, now she’s going to talk about how the Durandal is a big ol’ penis!” And it is, don’t get me wrong. But simply pointing at my monitor and shouting “Penis!”–which is what I usually do–just doesn’t do the thing justice. It is the King of Cocks, the Sultan of Schlongs, the Emperor of Erections. Describing it, frankly, takes the kind of poetic prowess I’m not sure I have. Just go look at the caption while I try to wrap my mind around this thing (not like that). And send your best Durandick haiku, sonnets, and dirty limericks to sam@videogamerecaps.com. Heck, let’s make a contest of it, kids.
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Superman’s penis!
After the gaping maw of the Durandick sucks in his A.G.W.S.–boy, is that some confusing imagery–Little Master arrives on the bridge. And he’s wearing the cutest little black trenchcoat with all these fabulous designs on it. And crotch-hugging lime-green pants. Goddamn you, game designers. “Yo,” he greets Chesty. “Ariadne’s completely vanished.” But Little Master doesn’t think the planet was destroyed. “It’s almost as if someone is hiding it somewhere.” Yeah. In my pants.
…Shit!
Little Master and Chesty have no theories themselves as to where the planet Ariadne is and who made it disappear, so they ask Shelley, the girl with the monotone. And now that I know her real name, I can ignore it for the rest of the game and call her Busty St. Clair. Busty says, “It’s very slight, but I’m getting a reaction from the primer. No question about it.” Little Master’s completely logical response to this is, “Some kids playing with matches, maybe?” Man, if he weren’t so fine I’d just give up on him right now.
Speaking of things that should be there but aren’t, the subject of the Federation fleet comes up. “We haven’t heard anything since we picked up that distress signal six hours ago,” a Realian girl on the bridge says. Chesty assumes that all the ships were wiped out by the Gnosis, but Little Master plays Devil’s Advocate: “Not necessarily. When the little ones play with fire, you know their folks can’t be too far behind.” Chesty sighs, “Ah…I get it,” which must be a lie, or Chesty’s on the same drugs as Little Master and what he said actually got through to her. “So you reckon that the momma’s gonna show up soon?” she drawls on. Jesus Christ, could we please stop speaking in riddles? I’m almost missing Shion at this point–at least she says what she means.
I take it back. I don’t miss her at all. Please don’t email me Shion porn.
With the idea in mind of tracking down the “momma”–don’t look at me–Little Master orders a change in course to the “last known coordinates of the Federation fleet.” The Durandick sails on through space, making the entirety of the galaxy around it feel very, very tiny.
Elsewhere, a videophone conversation is going on. “…We underestimated him by thinking he was just a relic from an age gone by,” a voice says. Of course it’s a member of the Jedi Council–there’s no way I could forget the beating my head took from the Cyborgs Are Junk Buckets Mallet. I do wonder, though, why one of the guys who sent said Junk Bucket to rescue MOMO from Margulis is now having an apologetic conversation with Margulis. Obviously there’s some sort of double-dealing going on here. But please don’t ask me to explain it–I don’t know if you guys have picked up on this yet, but in general I don’t have any clue what’s going on in this game. And for the most part I’m perfectly happy that way.
The Jedi tells Margulis that there was some kind of info leak on their end with regard to the location of Pleroma, except that he (and, it seems, everyone else in the game) keeps saying it “Plerloma.” I don’t know. MadLibs!Margulis shrugs it off. “It’s inevitable. There will always be wankers who exposit too goddamn much. I’ll leave their extermination to you.” Margulis and the Jedi chat some more about Miltia and the military in a cryptic way, until Margulis’s call waiting beeps and Commander Jerkinov comes on the line. Man, Margulis is on the phone more than I was in junior high.
‘I’ll see to that personally.’
Jerkinov’s frightened, mousy face jumps onto Margulis’s screen. It appears that Jerkinov is braving the communications device right outside the bridge just to report to his evil boss. That just seems…less than smart. Like watching porn on the big screen TV in the living room when your wife is due to arrive home in five minutes. So anyway, Jerkinov reports to Margulis that the Gnosis made off with the Golden Penis Plate, but that he “managed to secure the 100-Series Realian.” Right. If that’s what you want to call accidentally ending up on the same ship as her and not making any effort to contain her or otherwise keep an eye on her at all. Jerkinov also Einsteins that this just might be the same 100-Series Realian that Margulis had on “Plerloma.” Wow, you’re so awesome, Commander. I wanna have your babies, you amazing stud.
Margulis is about as impressed as I am, and tells Jerkinov to stick to his current game plan and not try to be all extra-curricular. “We’ve already confirmed all the buttplugs,” Margulis tells him. “The orgy is proceeding according to plan.” Jerkinov stutters in protest, upset and jealous that he’s being left out of Margulis’s sex parties, but Margulis cuts him off, ordering him back to HQ so he can be punished for whatever it is that he did wrong. Well, if he’s not in trouble for losing the GPP, then spending so much time with Shion and not murdering her should be punishable by law.
After he’s hung up on Jerkinov, Margulis orders some U-GEE flunkies to track the ship the call came from. We know Margulis just isn’t gonna rest until he gets his little girl jollies. But before he can talk for another hour about nothing, an overly creepy voice interrupts: “You just love barking out those orders don’t you, Margulis.” Margulis starts and looks behind him, where the overly white guy from Pleroma is leaning against a wall, looking all evilly smug and shit. He goes on, “Show a little love to your dogs, or else they might bite you one day.” Fucking A, is this Speak In Metaphors Day and no one told me? Talky Chalky continues that MOMO, aka “the prototype,” belongs to him and not to stupid Margulis, who wouldn’t know how to best use her, anyway, the amateur. “I’ve grown bored with these Kirschwassers,” Talky Chalky adds, stroking the head of the creepy Naughty Nurse MOMO Clone. The Kirschwasser, for its part, stands there expressionless, with no thought in her head concerning why she’s named “cherry water” if she’s the all-white clone of a girl named “peach,” let alone why this chatty sicko is petting her like she’s a basset hound.
Talky Chalky’s point is that he should be the one to pursue MOMO, because he’s a main character and therefore he’s likely to do a better job than Margulis’s yes-men. The yes-men in question around the room glare at Talky Chalky. He takes in this tension and drama queens, “Feed me your hostility…pierce me with your hatred.” Then he does his Dr. Evil laugh while inappropriately feeling up his own chest. I sure do love it when the game designers are subtle. I mean, they could have just smashed my skull in with an anvil that has “This bitch is craaaaaazy” engraved on it. Oh, wait. Ow.
Talky Chalky promises that he won’t interfere in what Margulis is up to, before jumping into his white A.G.W.S. with his white Realian girl. And his name is Albedo. Why don’t they announce he’s Grand Dragon of the KKK while they’re at it?
Once in his white flight space robot, Albedo murmurs to himself, “Ah, MOMO… My adorable little pêche…” I would start a Pêche Count, but you know it’d turn into one of those counts that we recappers lose track of because it just occurs too damn much. It’d be like starting a Sam Calls Shion a Whore Count.
From the control room, Margulis and Wonderbra watch Albedo fly off. Wonderbra asks if they really should trust that nutbar with something as important as MOMO. Margulis denies that he gave Albedo command of anything, and Wonderbra stares at him with pity. Poor guy’s the bitch of the relationship and he doesn’t even know it.
And we’re back to Little Master and his lady friends. Thank God–thirty seconds of Albedo and Margulis and I was ready to kill myself with the fingernail clippers on my desk. Lord knows how I’m going to deal with the rest of the game. The Durandick is parked in space while a crew led by Little Master and Chesty investigate what appears to be the obliterated husk of the Hoglinde. “Man…this ship’s been gutted down to the core,” LM says. “Looks like the carcass of a beached whale.” Well, they had to be thorough, Little Master–what if the ship was contaminated with slut rabies? Chesty and LM establish that there’s no sign of life whatsoever around here, before heading inside the ship itself.