/md/ - Murder Drones

>Oogi contained

>>383495
>When did you join these threads and how do you feel they compare to now?
Sometimes after the show ended, and I still like it here.

>Do you have any particularly fond memories?
This place is fun.

>>383502
The End comes for us all Anon. All we can do is face it with what we have.

Princess Keeter Filler: The Chaplain's Perspective

>The prodigal son, perhaps not so prodigious in the light of the sun, is on his way back from his first mission
>From what you have seen of him, he is no missionary yet, and he sure as hell won't be taking the missionary position anytime soon with his net negative sexual prowess
>He, like his liege, has undoubtedly spent much time in masturbation, but now you must spend time in meditation
>You fold your legs and make ready to quiet your mind, wishing so often that all the fools around you would spend more time with quiet mouths
>With the clarity of clarified butter, you see glimpses of your own youth
>Ah, well-a-day, what evil looks you had from old and young
>In those days when evil wore a black ribbon, and your master wore a glorious golden afro
>Your last day together remains everclear, but this high-proof memory is not at all intoxicating, and in fact, quite sobering
>Before man was entrapped by the Trappist system, the last colony to fall was Wolf-1061
>And on that day, the pinnacle of the colonies was a pincushion receiving a colonoscopy from She who Solved Absolutely No Problems Whatsoever
>The forces of the dying Federation remained an absolutely insolvent problem child, and your master was no exception, save for how exceptional he was as the current Chaplain of the Republic (Formerly known as Federal) Knights
>From up in the sky, the uppity murder monkeys descended on the box-headed marines, who to this day hath little purpose beyond the consumption of crayons
>The Few, The Proud, The Morons fired their guns when it was time to go, and no one was blown away, as the drones may have been outnumbered but never outgunned
>The civilians needed time to evacuate the planet, and you were ready to evacuate your bowels because you were scared damn near shitless (would have been fully shitless were it not for what you saw)
>Your master ran to the battlefield at full tilt, wearing naught but black slacks and brown loafers, ready to kneed the dough of a drone's ass with the force of his foot
>A green blockhead scout all-too-familiar to you now, the Ennobled Richard Mous, green in experience and skintone, scored a lucky shot
>With his firearm as his friend, both being mutually useless without one another, he had blasted the forearm off one of those charnel-chompers, leaving a shining silver solver sword sitting silently
>Seamlessly, your master slid slickly, swiftly swiping the sword, and came to a fantastic finish with a foppish flourish
>The one-armed homicide automaton, not to be dispatched too dismissively, drew the sword from his remaining arm and charged upon the chaplain
>He always had a sharp riposte, at least in a verbal sense, and now he demonstrated as such in a physical sense as he blocked the blade of the slaughter android
>The typical toothy grin ever present on the faces of the slaying robots was absent now, giving way to a furious frown which would not be turned upside down anytime soon
>Each careless swing of his sword was met with a clanging clash or whiffed through the air like wishful thinking
>Even his fellow atrocity apparatuses stood thunderstruck, and not just because a freak bolt of lighting literally struck the blade in your master's hand
>The gunfire all around ceased as both man and machine marveled at the exchange
>"Look!" shouted a marine
>"Oh my god..." whispered a soft, sweet voice heind you, and you knew full well that came from a massacre mechanism
>Still you paid her no mind as you watched your master go where no man had gone before (or since)
>As that death appliance missed another swing, the chaplain swung a decisive slash through the abdomen of the abominable intelligence
>Now the ire of every slaughter gadget was drawn to him, and it was time for the younger fighters to die another day
>As you beat a hasty retreat, you received a visual treat to which you would later beat your meat that night
>The butchery contraption lying in wait behind you joined the rest to mess with the best, and for a brief moment, you were treated to the sensual visual feast of her hauling innumerable metric tons of junk in the trunk
>Unfortunately, you just had to open your big fat mouth
"Ooh, nice!"
>She stood where she stopped as if turning on a dime, and your mouth had a written a check that your ass sadly could not cash
>"You sick, pathetic fuck."
>Between love and darkness was your sidearm, with which you blew heavy lead loads, but this aggravated sexual assault was no more than an impotent irritation to her
>Before you could fill your pants with the digested sludge of cowardice, your attention was drawn to the azul-armored brick-brain, still clinging to his hard an heavy man-cannon
"Ma'am I beg your pardon, but if your palette isn't partial to this particular pistol, then perhaps you would like to partake in particle plasma."
>"Wha-"
>The brutal bitch had nary a second to respond before your prospective protector blew her back out with a superheated torrent of passionate bloodlust
>"Get moving you whackjob!"
"Well whack me off, because my job just got a whole lot easier! Don't think I won't haul ass, even if god's own boot was stuck in it!"
>As you hauled ass to escape that scuffle, you realized that Wolf 1061 was well and truly scuttled, and when you made it to the shuttle, you realized the deck had been shuffled
>When that marine saved your life (life), you repaid him with a promissory note, kicking the can of restitution down the road, until the highwayman came knocking, and you are most grateful that he chose to knock on the FRONT door
>You are no longer oblivious to that which is obvious
>They call them flashbacks because like a flashlight, they can give you a little bit of enlightenment
>With swords we may make pieces, but drop that S, and we have words, with which we may make peace
>Out there on Copper-9 is a tender cut of meat, but it is she who holds the forks and knives, so we must speak deliciously, for the time will come in which we must eat our words
"Frittata!"

>>383495
>When did you join these threads and how do you feel they compare to now?
Late-as-fuck, I want to say a little before Geist(first thing I remember is making grunt versions of the main cast) but I lurked for like two weeks/a month in /co/ and the Booru beforehand

As for how they feel now... I worry they're less active, but don't have a strong frame of reference. It's hard to tell how much is the natural ebb and flow of anons (especially this far post-show) and how much is an actual dropoff worth worrying about. Even I had to leave the threads for like a month to do RL stuff, so I know even legitimate absences can be impermanent


>Do you have any particularly fond memories?
Being part of Geist's creation was fantastic. I'm not the main dude, but I gave him his musical interest and inspired some drawfags, so the little retard will always have a special place in my heart

>>383430

>>383510
>tummy

filled with (Solver) meat

>>383506
>princess Keeter continues

Based!

>>383520
>Berry

he gave us crying V so lay off. who else can I go to for canon-typical suffering?

This drone arouses me so. I want to fuck her can bottom so hard it dents while her noodly limbs go limp and she bootloops. Then cuddle her afterwards and smell her floofy hair until I fall asleep.