Badass Dragons of the Wasteland - Round Nine Results

Desmond rose from what was left of the interior. That sonofabitch Sanford was going to fix every last goddamned part on this for free for his doublecrossing laundry trick alone. He glanced at the wreckage slowly making its way to the bottom of the dome and saw a familiar circle buried beneath some dented fenders.

Pulling his friend from beneath Perky he sighed heavily. “Damn it Major! This is the second time I’ve had to pull you from the wreckage, and, frankly, it’s becoming tiresome. Stop being the hero, if you might.”

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Oh yeah, I got that. I can just never resist the explosion at the end of the Twisted Sister version. Suits my aesthetic.

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Oh, absolutely. I just haven’t had a moment to describe what happens when you turn up the Genesis all the way.

One can probably tell from rounds D and E above that I seem to be running low on adjectives. I should go skim through some Zelazny or Lovecraft real quick.

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What I want to know is, where, in all this, is Bubba @bizmail_public?

I’m sure I’ve seen him lurking around the outside of the Thunderdome. Seems he was a little unwilling to go up against his old mucker. I’m sure he’s suffered from some divided loyalties during this journey. Maybe, now that little conflict of interest has been…addressed, he’ll make a reappearance?

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OOC: I used to have a PM going with him…where is it…

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How are we getting to Mars, again?

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That has nothing to do with …

Ok, Mr. Game-Master dude, this Cygnus reference is a little creepy.

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Metaphorically on top of the world (and less metaphorically on the top of the heap), Sir Gonville De’Ath considered the future.

“Send me up a drink,” he joked to the Metallica boys, already busily engaged in hauling out the wreckage and hosing off the Thunderdome’s interior.

“The count goes on…”



From the south came Junior towing Clank’s frame back from Plant 42, eager to perform the Genesis ritual. You may remember it went like this.

Cougar and Clank and the Major lay side-by-side in the shade of Marion’s crawler cab, where the Gen V had been carefully reinstalled. The Genesis Device sat on the dashboard next to the navigator’s cupholder, plugged into the cigar lighter with one cable and into the crawler’s in-dash stereo via a cassette adapter. Junior took a breath and, after a nod to all assembled, rotated the Power Output knob on the Genesis all the way to the right.

The skies darkened and opened up with a soul-shattering impact as the foot-square column of air above Marion was instantly ionized and then obliterated in a column of plasma that reached all the way to the top of the ionosphere and beyond.

The column of light stabbed deep into outer space, tearing a rift into hyperspace that left eddies in the space-time continuum echoing in the minds of the bystanders back at the Ark.

(Eddie’s where?)

In the space-time continuum.

(Ah… is he. Is he.)

Don’t interrupt. In their minds, on a channel that was not quite on the TCB spectrum and with an amplitude far too powerful to be comfortably ignored, came echoes from Clank’s consciousness before it departed our world for the blacker pastures of Cygnus X-1, where Light goes to have a good lie down:


“Wake, my son. Your hour has come.”

Vital fluids have leaked out. Structural integrity is severely compromised. Metal and bone are both fatigued to the breaking point. The batteries are nearly flat, the tanks are dry, the seals are cracked. Got a cracked timing case cover. It’s broken a couple o’ teeth off the timing gear…

“You don’t even have twelve. Your hour has come, my son.”

“Take me home, to the Shadetree Shop.”

“No, my son. You must go back farther. Long before my time, in fact.”

“To the dawn of the Wrench, the birthing-place of the Tool. A place whence came one who would seek to obtain much that is useful or of interest.”

“But he concerns us not. Instead, we must focus upon what else might be found there.”

“Where?”

“The place where passion meets reason.”

“Where the cleverest man on Earth lost a bet. The spiritual inspiration for mankind’s highest flights.”

“Six thousand years must your light travel in an instant, and you shall be transformed. Remanufactured.”

“Again?”

“You have been many things in your long years on this Earth. Public servant…”

“Soldier…”

“Showoff…”

“Gumshoe…”

“Gadabout…”

“Prisoner…”

“But now it is time for you to meet your destiny. The Clankenstein of the Future is upon us.”

“I…? I am to be…?”

“Yes, Clankenstein. Hot-rodded.


The Genesis Device hummed, then clicked and emitted an ear-shredding cacophony of horror, the likes of which had not been heard on this Earth in decades:

Molecule by molecule, a matrix of glowing particles appeared and arranged themselves around Clank’s beatific form. After a moment or two, their eventual shape became apparent. By the time the awful sound subsided, Clankenstein was completely surrounded by this form:

And then, after a satisfied beep, all the red LEDs turned green, and then went out. And the Genesis fell silent forever.

The grizzled old Mechanic opened His eyes.


“You have a choice to make, Clankenstein son of Craftsman. Even now, the Ark I power is making its way the last few miles to Edwards Air Force Base. From there, if circumstances permit, the Ark will depart for the Fourth Planet, carrying forty-eight or fewer human souls to their fate.”

“‘If circumstances permit’?”

“It is not quite a fait accompli yet. The sandworms’ reach is long. But if we prevail, then some of those around you will indeed be off to Mars. Will you count yourself among their number? Or will you stay here on Earth?”

“I have a choice?”

“Listen to your Craftsman.”


“Thou hast two Numbers, my son, and they be one score and a dozen. Mind ye well the significance.”


“I’m awfully glad you’re okay, Mister N. Stein. And I really like your new ride. But it was amazing how you were able to give us so many clues about how to find Scotty and the instructions for the Genesis. How do you know so much? Do you think you might be able to help my mom and the Major get better too?”


“Do you have that power, Clankenstein?” @davide405

(***more on the way for y’all…***)

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(OOC- I feel somewhat bad about this joke, because I’m genuinely sad about any NASA failure. I’m so glad it seems none were hurt. Then again, I am tasteless, so I proceed. The funniest thing about doing this joke was learning that INFOWARS uses the font from BATMAN FOREVER. That’s gravitas, baybee.)

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Hey, I had to rent a skiff and everything. Never doubt my dedication again!

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And now I’ve heard of Infowars. I shall do my best to forget it again.

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From where I’m sitting, looks to me like Clank lost his wiener during his transformation.

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OOC: be glad you aren’t so familiar with this.

http://discourse-cloud-file-uploads.s3.dualstack.us-west-2.amazonaws.com/boingboing/original/3X/8/0/80ed3bbbe79a2884dfa07f52f363b835c9054ffc.jpg

With the Craftsman, all things are possible.

I am just the wrench, the hand that wields me has the skill. But I know this thing now, that WE DO NOT SCRAP!

This score is not settled until these fallen are restored.

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I’m somewhat hoping you’ve got a tube of Preparation H for starters!

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All that pizza causing some issues, Major?

Will this fit on your SHITGO throne?

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“Thou hast spoken well, my son. Long ago, another was presented with the temptation to claim credit for the miracles wrought through him. The desert was dry and hot, the fugitive multitudes thirsted and cried out for water, and this man produced water from solid rock… and yet acknowledged not My Hand upon his staff.”

“Sayeth I somewhat untoward? Why look’st thou so? Wherefore this mirth? Mine own Hand wielded his rod, and smote the stones until the vital fluid gushed forth…”

"Forgive their levity, Craftsman. They have endured much to reach this point. The lesson of Numbers 20:12 is well taken. Clankenstein gives all credit to you and keeps none for himself, and has thus proven himself worthy. He shall see the Promised Land, if so he chooses.

“For Humanity has reached the cusp of divergence. No longer shall they be confined to a single homeworld. From the sunset of the Old World breaks two Dawns: that of the Earthlings, and that of the Martians. The Gen V SHITGO system has the power to remake harsh, inhospitable worlds into… well, if not Edenic garden worlds, then at least something you folks can work with, if you roll up your sleeves and forget not the lessons of the past. Up to this point, I have been the unique Gen V SHITGO prototype in existence. But no longer.”

In a blaze of light and with a flurry of downloadable content, Clankenstein felt his consciousness filling with all the mechanical schematics and diagrams of every device wrought by the hand of humanity, sophisticated diagnosis and repair subroutines, a leap in processing bandwidth of several dozen orders of magnitude, and, in a hastily appended appendix, all cultural knowledge of recorded history. The renewed Dodge’s cigar lighter outlet glowed with 317 petawatts of power.

The heavier-duty jumper cables in the toolbox behind the seat would serve for the bigger jobs. Clankenstein looked to Marion in amazement.

"I was torn. I knew I was the only entity powerful enough to give life or exterminate it on a planetary scale, and I could not allow this power to fall into the wrong hands. If I left for Mars, the remaining human population on Earth would most likely wither and die within a decade. If I stayed behind, the Martian colony would be restricted to living within their biodomes indefinitely, and, in such an inhospitable world, they would eventually perish as well. Now that the threat of someone like Fleetwood or Toecutter wielding my power for their own nefarious ends has been eliminated, and now that you have proven yourself worthy of the burden, I have decided to clone my capabilities and create a second Gen V SHITGO system: you. If I go to Mars to help the colony thrive, you will stay behind to restore the Earth. And if you should choose to accompany the Martians, then I shall stay behind. I leave that choice up to you.

“Dear Clankenstein, you have followed the true path of the Mechanic from the very beginning without complaint, and you have done very well indeed. Once the ship lifts, we shall not see each other again. But regardless of which of us resides on which world, Earth or Mars, I am proud to call you Brother Mechanic.”

"Ayup."

“So… whaddaya gonna do, Clank?”

“Well, first things first. We gotta resurrect your mom and the Major, and then I guess we gotta point this rocket at a red planet. Edwards is right around the corner, so it oughta be a piece of…”

“Well, about that…” said Marion. “There’s just one tiny complication concerning Edwards Air Force Base…”

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I’ve heard of a dramatic pause, but this…

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