Featured GAME [Interactive Comic] Old Republic Paint Adventures

You've been DEVELOPING a CYBERNETIC IMPLANT that would enhance one's GENERAL COGNITIVE CAPABILITIES, yet the thing is... you are damn sure this CREATURE that PRIVATE BUMBLECHISS brought has been BRAIN-DEAD even before its UNTIMELY DEATH and therefore SIMPLY INCAPABLE of being an ALMIGHTY SITH LORD!

However, GRAND ADMIRAL SNOTE has OTHER PLANS and DELUSIONS of his OWN for this SPECIAL PRISON FRIEND.



As do you, because you now approach the KOLTO TANK with INQUISITIVE INTENT.

It is time for more... EXPERIMENTS.



PRIVATE BANDICOOT BANGLECHISS eavesdrops on your VILLAINOUS MONOLOGUE and explains to you that you need a PERMIT for this SORT of THING! The CHISS ASCENDANCY does EVERYTHING by-the-book and your SCIENCE DEPARTMENT is no EXCEPTION!



"Oh, and SOME RETARDED PISSANT threw up in the adjacent cell last night. You better clean it up! NOW!" PRIVATE CAMELCHISS barks before SNORTING OUT a SELF-SATISFIED LAUGH.

"HRAH. HRAH. HRAH. That'll TEACH HER."

Surely you won't let this INDIGNITY STAND?

How will you SASS the PRIVATE?

 

I'm sure most of you have noticed by now, but sadly, updates are a bit slow these days - primarily because I'm busier than usual. Worst case scenario, this will last some three weeks or so, but I'll try my best to avoid that. Afterwards, it's smooth sailing for at least a month and a half.

Hopefully, by that time, we've put Nar Shaddaa behind us and went to a SUPER AWESOME PLANET of your LIMITED CHOICE.

You CITE REGULATIONS to the PRIVATE by SLAPPING him RELENTLESSLY with your DATAPAD, claiming that no where does it say that CLEANING UP PUKE is part of your DUTIES. Even though you TECHNICALLY OUTRANK him, the PRIVATE is just not backing down.

Against common sense, you decide, quite impulsively, to utilize your racial ability of SASS. After all, the PRIVATE is CLEARLY just a PIKEY CHAV dressed in OFFICER GEAR.



"I'm sorry, but you MEAN the PUKE from the SAME PRISONER you let get away? What was it? He promised you a ship and a Twi'lek inside, right? Well, my good chap, since I can't see neither one or the other, I'm going to assume you've been quite the little COCKUP, weren't you?

Seems like something YOU should be doing INSTEAD of pestering me away from my research. For all you know, those CYBERNETICS could actually ENHANCE that CABBAGE-FOR-A-BRAIN you have."



The BUTTHURT private walks out of the AREA muttering about how HE'LL BE BACK or SOMETHING. It's regular, generic BAD GUY MONOLOGUE, no need to SWEAT about it. On the other hand...

What. A. Tosser.



You open up your DATAPAD and make a NEW ENTRY in your CLASSY JOURNAL, because OF COURSE you need to have one. Sadly, the ADVERT TAB is GROWING LARGER and LARGER with each passing UPDATE. If you've any say, the HOLONET is slowly becoming a REPUGNANT PLACE to be! REPUGNANT, INDEED!

Thankfully, the last twenty four hours were spent outside of SAPPHIRE'S PRESENCE for whom you have nothing but the DEEPEST LOATHING ever since she called you a FATTY. It's ALL RUBBISH! You worked hard to KEEP your FIGURE! SAPPHIRE is just a MEAN-SPIRITED TART! But what could you expect from the SENATOR of CSILLA?



Well, you surely won't be getting your PERMIT standing around, so you ASSUREDLY decide to VENTURE OUT towards the CREW DECK where GRAND ADMIRAL SNOTE resides.



You now arrive at the BLUE LAGOON CANTINA, because it's not a PROPER OLD REPUBLIC PAINT ADVENTURE without mercilessly reused ENVIRONMENTS!

Hoorah! Hoorah, indeed...

There are two senators in this room and both have SOME SORT of REPUTATION. Grand Admiral Snote has AMBITIOUS PLANS for DIPLOMACY with the GALACTIC SENATE. The ASCENDANCY was QUICK to shift sides upon the FIRST WHIFF of IMPERIAL DEFEAT, because let's face it... being on the WINNER'S SIDE clearly keeps you a CLEAR WINNER.

The CREW DECK is on the other side of the cantina. Since you're not in any hurry, you can MINGLE in this ROOM of your own FREE WILL. Otherwise, you'll need to find some CONTRIVED WAY to CONVINCE the CHISSTROOPER™ to let you through.

What do you do?

 

You opt for NOT MINGLING AROUND and proceed to your ELABORATELY FORCED OBJECTIVE. A TRUE CHISS is ALL WORK and NO PLAY, after all!

In this FINELY ANIMATED sequence, TRULY an INTRICATE piece of "ART", you approach the CHISSTROOPER and open up the ADVERT for DARTH SABER'S DANCE MASTER classes. Your ASTUTE MIND deduces that since all HEAVY ARMORED GUARDS that appeared in this ADVENTURE beforehand were connected to some FORM of PRIMITIVE BODY FLAILING, the CHISSTROOPER shouldn't be any different!



You are wrong. The CHISSTROOPER is not that EASILY SWAYED!

After all, a TRUE CHISS is ALL WORK and NO PLAY.



Well, it seems you've little choice but to FORCE your WAY THROUGH like a PROPER LADY. You walk up to the SPUNKY AIRHEAD called SAPPHIRE, acknowledging her PUNY, UNCULTURED PRESENCE: "Tart."

"Fatty."

SAPPHIRE is ABOUT to REGRET THESE WORDS!



You OUTRIGHT PICK her UP most LADYLIKE and MARCH towards the CHISSTROOPER before unloading your WORTHLESS HEAP of SPUNK all over the UNSUSPECTING GUARD.

When it comes to DUMB BIRDS like SAPPHIRE, you can only afford ZERO CHILL.



The FANCY BOUNCERS are now AGITATED!

You REALLY should have thought this through!



But then again, it is UNIVERSALLY known that the BOUNCERS 2.0 are COMPLETE COWARDS and UTTER PUSHOVERS. They decide to FLEE in TERROR instead of DOING their GODDAMN JOBS of being HERO FODDER™. Disgraceful! The OLD BOUNCERS would have WIPED the FLOOR with you!

*sigh*

Sometimes you miss the PRE-NERF DAYS.



CUE EPIC VILLAIN ENTRANCE THEME.

GRAND ADMIRAL SNOTE himself has now arrived to the scene and he is not pleased with your APPARENT LACK of PROGRESS... like, at all.

There's also the matter of outright assaulting the OTHERWISE DISPOSABLE TROOPS of the CHISS ASCENDANCY.



Well?

What is your excuse, YOUNG MISSY?

 

NONSENSE! MISSY would never MINGLE with such RECKLESS PEASANTRY! Not by choice...

In the face of UTTER PANIC, you... UTTERLY PANIC.

You decide to feign a SUDDEN SEIZURE instead of confronting your boss wearing your BIG GIRL PANTS. SNOTE is not so easily fooled, however.



Thankfully, you end your PATHETIC CHARADE before PRIVATE BUMBLECHISS enters the room, sparing you FURTHER HUMILIATION. In fact, his VERY PRESENCE is like a MUSE to your DEVIOUS MIND, a CANISTER of FUEL for your NEFARIOUS IDEAS.

IT'S PAYBACK TIME.



"It's all his fault, Grand Admiral Snote! Private Chisscumber is SABOTAGING my RESEARCH and is ORDERING me AROUND with MUNDANE TASKS! He's trying to TAKE YOUR JOB!"



SNOTE has no time for your PETTY SHENANIGANS! A VILLAIN of HIS INSURMOUNTABLE CALIBRE has FAR MORE important matters to ATTEND TO. CLEARLY.

He sends you both on your way to the PRISON WARD for PUNISHMENT.



You've been relegated to WATCH DUTY for the PRIVATE'S SANITATION CHORE. Yep, you can just SMELL the JUSTICE in the AIR... and also PUKE. The PRIVATE begs you to HELP HIM in some way and PROMISES an AMICABLE FUTURE in your FURTHER COOPERATION with him.

What do you do?