Turcano
2007-03-17, 01:19 AM
For those of you who aren't familiar, this is a machinima Star Wars fanfilm. You can access it here (http://www.acloneapart.com/).
And here are some quotes:
I
Trooper 1: Did you see that? It looked like a bunch of tics floating in the middle of space!
Trooper 2: No, no, no. That was a midiclorian cluster.
Trooper 1: There aren’t any midiclorians in space!
Trooper 2: Of course there are! How else do you think we hear sound in space?
Danson: My voice? What are you talking about?
Bhiff: You sound like your testicles were bitten off by a mynock!
Danson: And you sound like… you’ve been inhaling plastic fumes. In the armory.
Danson: Sir, why is this trash can dancing?
Sarge: This is going to be a tough one, boys. All your breeding, all your years of training –
Danson: Years?
Sarge: - it hasn’t prepared you for all the screaming and the blood.
Danson: Oh no! I’m really going to die!
Bhiff: Don’t worry, Danson. He’s lying.
Danson: Really?
Bhiff: There won’t be any blood. Laser fire cauterizes the wounds. You’ll be dead before you have a chance to bleed.
Danson: *whimper*
Danson: Great. Now what the heck am I supposed to do. I mean, what am I even doing here? Am I trying to get myself killed?
Alpha-12: No, you’re trying to die defending the Republic.
Danson: That’s the same thing!
Danson: Maybe I’ll be safer in side this thing. I’m sure it’s got loads of grade-A Republic programming! Alright, time to go. I just need to figure out how to go. I’ll just press the green button. Aha! Green means go! Okay, green means backwards! Blue!
Danson: Let’s go to the left. Oops, I mean back and to the left. No! Back and to the left! Aaagh! Damn you, cheap contract labor!
Danson: Oh God, blue button’s stuck! Don’t be stuck! Left blue! Left blue! Aaagh! Rockets by my head!
Combat Droid: Ow.
Danson: Oh, come on! You can’t feel pain!
Danson: My only clip is empty!
Bhiff: Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted it on the big scary hologram.
Danson: What kind of an army gives their soldiers only one clip!
Bhiff: Oh, that’s no problem. Just shoot that guy over there.
Danson: How can I shoot him if I don’t have any ammo?
Danson: Okay… certain death, or vortex thingy!
II
Danson: Okaaay… I’m in hell. Super.
Bhiff: Sir! Where did that trooper just go?
Sarge: Into the control room, private. Is there a problem? Shall I inform Lord Vader?
Bhiff: Sure, that would be great! While you’re at it, why don’t you swallow a thermal detonator? Sir.
Sarge: How dare you speak to me like that! What’s your name private?
Bhiff: God, I love this armor!
Sarge: Why is everyone so mean to me?
Danson: So what’s with the new armor? It seems a bet, um –
Bhiff: What?
Danson: Soulless? Scary? Uh, boring?
Bhiff: I don’t know. It just seems more intimidating to our enemies.
Danson: Like that pilot over there. His helmet just looks evil.
Pilot: Hey! I – I’m actually quite gentle. I like pretty flowers…
Danson: Or that freaky guy on the blockade runner with the lifesaver.
Bhiff: Uh, no. That, that was Darth Vader, our commander. And it’s called a “lightsaber,” Danson. A lightsaber.
Danson: Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Why would they call it a lifesaver? It kills things, right?
Danson: Why were you calling him “scout?”
Percy: Oh, see, if you recall, the science officer’s armor was curiously similar to that of our elite clone sharpshooters.
Danson: Like that one you killed for ammo. Right, Bhiff?
Bhiff: Anyway…
Percy: Great knights of the Old Republic! I swear I fixed you, you overly sedate piece of –
Rook: I am called the Dark Trooper. I believe it is because of my mena-cing appearance.
Danson: Yes, you do look intimidating. Except for the nipples.
Danson: Okay, just a minute. I’ve been with you guys for three days now and you haven’t even asked how the hell I arrived here. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what happened to me?
Percy: Why? You obviously stepped into a time wormhole of some sort, possibly caused by the explosion of the Mygeetian power crystals back on Utapau.
Danson: Oh. Okay.
Bhiff: We couldn’t find you after the battle, so it stands to reason that that’s what happened, right? I don’t know how you appeared on a rebel ship on the fringe of the galaxy nine hundred light-years from Utapau.
Rook: I could calculate the phys-ics behind the inci-dent.
Bhiff: But really, who cares? We’re together again, right?
Rook: Audible sigh. I have no value.
Percy: Unfortunately, our recon droids do have a limited active life. Like butterflies! Only not as pretty. And they shoot lasers!
Percy: This room is where we keep the impregnable force-field generators. It consists of several… generators… protected by this bottomless pit!
Danson: A bottomless pit? This is a contained space station. Wouldn’t we be sucked into space?
Rook: I wish you would not ask so many questions. It seems that every other sentence you speak is a question. In fact, upon further analysis, quite a bit more than that.
Percy, He’s right, Danson. If you’ll abstain from inquiries for a short while, I promise to fill you in on all the pertinent details as best we can.
Danson: Whoa. What’s that do?
III
Probe Droid: Cease-fire terminated. Slumbering hostile detected.
Danson: No, I-I’m awake! Really! Ugh, not again!
Probe Droid: Die, rebel scum, die.
Danson: Why is it always the face?
Rook: Did you have a nice nap, Danson? It’s very impressive that you fell asleep while standing up-right.
Danson: Aw, nuts.
Danson: Bhiff, I still can’t find the bathrooms. I’ve been running around for the last forty minutes, and they all have conflicting reports! I had no choice. I, I went into that room with the bottomless pit, and I—
Bhiff: Uh, trust me, Danson, you’re not the first. It sounds like the troopers were pulling a trick on you since you’re new.
Danson: So what happens to everything that falls down that pit?
Bhiff: Nobody knows. I know if they ever ask me to clean it up, I’m going to take a sick day.
Danson: You men, you’re not coming along?
Percy: Oh no, no, no, no, no. Imperial armory rules dictate that we scout troopers are only allowed on forested planets. It’s been said that our lightweight armor wouldn’t protect us against—
Danson: It’s all the same plastic!
Sarge: Alpha-12, what are you doing in this line?
Alpha-12: I have emergency orders to accompany you to the surface. Sir!
Sarge: Lose the skirt and then we’ll talk, Alpha.
Danson: I like how you put the fighters up on racks in this hangar. Much better than in that Star Dismantler--
Bhiff: Destroyer.
Danson: --where they were just sitting there on the hangar floor with no landing gears in sight. Honestly, how the heck did they stand up?
Bhiff: They are made of metal, Danson.
Danson: You know, it’s rather quiet for a bustling spaceport.
Bhiff: That’s what I thought the first time. When I came back for a visit the second time, it was far more elaborate and special than I remembered.
Danson: What…was…that?
Bhiff: Wow! I forgot that you still had that old blue laser rifle!
Danson: Small, glowy eyes! Those terrible, terrible eyes!
Bhiff: All of ours fire red lasers now.
Danson: Bhiff! What was that thing?
Bhiff: Nothing. Just a Jawa. Local riff-raff. I doubt there’ll be much of a local response.
Danson: But, I just murdered in innocent citizen!
Bhiff: They’re not citizens! There dirty little border-jumpers with fourteen kids to feed, who sell other peoples garbage for a living!
Danson: He had fourteen kids? *whimper* You sure I’m not going to be in serious trouble?
Bhiff: Of course not! We’re the Empire, Danson! We run things here. The locals have no power to punish you. I think.
Stormtrooper: I really liked that one trooper’s armor. All the blue trimming. So stylish. Our armor is so soulless and boring.
Danson: That was too easy.
Bhiff: Imperial detail just isn’t what it used to be.
Danson: What did it use to be?
Bhiff: Utter crap. Now it’s degraded to a Communist level of quality.
Danson: Wait, he’s doing the questioning?
Bhiff: Well, he was closest in Tatooine orbit.
Danson: Holy crap! Who’s running this army?
McBomb: Good citizen, there is no need to aim that weapon. What is your name:
Grun: Grun, sir.
McBomb: And your station?
Grun: I run this bar with my twin brother—
McBomb: I don’t need your bloody life story, you git. Now then, Grin—
Grun: Grun, sir. Grin is my broth—
McBomb: Whatever. Where were you during the incidents that summoned us here today?
Grun: I was serving drinks to my fine customers.
McBomb: Don’t give me that! This city is nothing but a wretched hive of scum and villainy!
Danson: He also has a taste for the dramatic, huh? What is it with the future? It’s full of ass—
Bhiff: All right, Teflin, you can stand down now.
McBomb: Keep you comments to yourself, nancy-boy! Now, it was you that let in the customers in that caused this mess, wasn’t it?
Grun: No, sir. That was my assistant Wuh—
McBomb: Don’t lie to me, peon! You cannot fool the servants of the Imperial Arms so easily!
Grun: But—
McBomb: The truth!
Grun: Well, I—
McBomb: Come on!
Grun: But—
McBomb: That’s it! This will be a solo-run establishment from now on!
Grun: Aaagh! Don’t kill me! I swear I didn’t do anything!
McBomb: Ha ha ha! All right, now, lad, don’t get in a twist! I was only trying to make sure that you were straight with me. Look! I even had the safety on me bazooka on! Huh. I could swear the safety latches like this. Whoops, heh. I guess now the safety’s on. Now, boys, were where we?
Stormtrooper: My aim’s all thrown off!
Danson: Oh, it’s not like you can hit anything anyway.
Stormtrooper 1: What was that?
Stormtrooper 2: It was that lousy clone recruit. You know, the one with the cool rifle.
Stormtrooper 1: Do you think if I report him and kill him, they’ll let me keep it?
Azzhoule: Danson is considered armed and… mildly dangerous. Try and talk him down, but if you have to shoot him, try not to damage his rifle.
Bhiff: Danson, you’re in a lot of trouble!
Danson: I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stormtrooper. My name’s… Spigot. And I, I never make trouble. I just putter about in my home made of junk. It’s rather cozy if you don’t mind the draft. Gets rather cold at night…
Bhiff: Goodbye, Danson. May the Force be with you. And your rifle.
And here are some quotes:
I
Trooper 1: Did you see that? It looked like a bunch of tics floating in the middle of space!
Trooper 2: No, no, no. That was a midiclorian cluster.
Trooper 1: There aren’t any midiclorians in space!
Trooper 2: Of course there are! How else do you think we hear sound in space?
Danson: My voice? What are you talking about?
Bhiff: You sound like your testicles were bitten off by a mynock!
Danson: And you sound like… you’ve been inhaling plastic fumes. In the armory.
Danson: Sir, why is this trash can dancing?
Sarge: This is going to be a tough one, boys. All your breeding, all your years of training –
Danson: Years?
Sarge: - it hasn’t prepared you for all the screaming and the blood.
Danson: Oh no! I’m really going to die!
Bhiff: Don’t worry, Danson. He’s lying.
Danson: Really?
Bhiff: There won’t be any blood. Laser fire cauterizes the wounds. You’ll be dead before you have a chance to bleed.
Danson: *whimper*
Danson: Great. Now what the heck am I supposed to do. I mean, what am I even doing here? Am I trying to get myself killed?
Alpha-12: No, you’re trying to die defending the Republic.
Danson: That’s the same thing!
Danson: Maybe I’ll be safer in side this thing. I’m sure it’s got loads of grade-A Republic programming! Alright, time to go. I just need to figure out how to go. I’ll just press the green button. Aha! Green means go! Okay, green means backwards! Blue!
Danson: Let’s go to the left. Oops, I mean back and to the left. No! Back and to the left! Aaagh! Damn you, cheap contract labor!
Danson: Oh God, blue button’s stuck! Don’t be stuck! Left blue! Left blue! Aaagh! Rockets by my head!
Combat Droid: Ow.
Danson: Oh, come on! You can’t feel pain!
Danson: My only clip is empty!
Bhiff: Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted it on the big scary hologram.
Danson: What kind of an army gives their soldiers only one clip!
Bhiff: Oh, that’s no problem. Just shoot that guy over there.
Danson: How can I shoot him if I don’t have any ammo?
Danson: Okay… certain death, or vortex thingy!
II
Danson: Okaaay… I’m in hell. Super.
Bhiff: Sir! Where did that trooper just go?
Sarge: Into the control room, private. Is there a problem? Shall I inform Lord Vader?
Bhiff: Sure, that would be great! While you’re at it, why don’t you swallow a thermal detonator? Sir.
Sarge: How dare you speak to me like that! What’s your name private?
Bhiff: God, I love this armor!
Sarge: Why is everyone so mean to me?
Danson: So what’s with the new armor? It seems a bet, um –
Bhiff: What?
Danson: Soulless? Scary? Uh, boring?
Bhiff: I don’t know. It just seems more intimidating to our enemies.
Danson: Like that pilot over there. His helmet just looks evil.
Pilot: Hey! I – I’m actually quite gentle. I like pretty flowers…
Danson: Or that freaky guy on the blockade runner with the lifesaver.
Bhiff: Uh, no. That, that was Darth Vader, our commander. And it’s called a “lightsaber,” Danson. A lightsaber.
Danson: Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Why would they call it a lifesaver? It kills things, right?
Danson: Why were you calling him “scout?”
Percy: Oh, see, if you recall, the science officer’s armor was curiously similar to that of our elite clone sharpshooters.
Danson: Like that one you killed for ammo. Right, Bhiff?
Bhiff: Anyway…
Percy: Great knights of the Old Republic! I swear I fixed you, you overly sedate piece of –
Rook: I am called the Dark Trooper. I believe it is because of my mena-cing appearance.
Danson: Yes, you do look intimidating. Except for the nipples.
Danson: Okay, just a minute. I’ve been with you guys for three days now and you haven’t even asked how the hell I arrived here. Aren’t you the least bit curious about what happened to me?
Percy: Why? You obviously stepped into a time wormhole of some sort, possibly caused by the explosion of the Mygeetian power crystals back on Utapau.
Danson: Oh. Okay.
Bhiff: We couldn’t find you after the battle, so it stands to reason that that’s what happened, right? I don’t know how you appeared on a rebel ship on the fringe of the galaxy nine hundred light-years from Utapau.
Rook: I could calculate the phys-ics behind the inci-dent.
Bhiff: But really, who cares? We’re together again, right?
Rook: Audible sigh. I have no value.
Percy: Unfortunately, our recon droids do have a limited active life. Like butterflies! Only not as pretty. And they shoot lasers!
Percy: This room is where we keep the impregnable force-field generators. It consists of several… generators… protected by this bottomless pit!
Danson: A bottomless pit? This is a contained space station. Wouldn’t we be sucked into space?
Rook: I wish you would not ask so many questions. It seems that every other sentence you speak is a question. In fact, upon further analysis, quite a bit more than that.
Percy, He’s right, Danson. If you’ll abstain from inquiries for a short while, I promise to fill you in on all the pertinent details as best we can.
Danson: Whoa. What’s that do?
III
Probe Droid: Cease-fire terminated. Slumbering hostile detected.
Danson: No, I-I’m awake! Really! Ugh, not again!
Probe Droid: Die, rebel scum, die.
Danson: Why is it always the face?
Rook: Did you have a nice nap, Danson? It’s very impressive that you fell asleep while standing up-right.
Danson: Aw, nuts.
Danson: Bhiff, I still can’t find the bathrooms. I’ve been running around for the last forty minutes, and they all have conflicting reports! I had no choice. I, I went into that room with the bottomless pit, and I—
Bhiff: Uh, trust me, Danson, you’re not the first. It sounds like the troopers were pulling a trick on you since you’re new.
Danson: So what happens to everything that falls down that pit?
Bhiff: Nobody knows. I know if they ever ask me to clean it up, I’m going to take a sick day.
Danson: You men, you’re not coming along?
Percy: Oh no, no, no, no, no. Imperial armory rules dictate that we scout troopers are only allowed on forested planets. It’s been said that our lightweight armor wouldn’t protect us against—
Danson: It’s all the same plastic!
Sarge: Alpha-12, what are you doing in this line?
Alpha-12: I have emergency orders to accompany you to the surface. Sir!
Sarge: Lose the skirt and then we’ll talk, Alpha.
Danson: I like how you put the fighters up on racks in this hangar. Much better than in that Star Dismantler--
Bhiff: Destroyer.
Danson: --where they were just sitting there on the hangar floor with no landing gears in sight. Honestly, how the heck did they stand up?
Bhiff: They are made of metal, Danson.
Danson: You know, it’s rather quiet for a bustling spaceport.
Bhiff: That’s what I thought the first time. When I came back for a visit the second time, it was far more elaborate and special than I remembered.
Danson: What…was…that?
Bhiff: Wow! I forgot that you still had that old blue laser rifle!
Danson: Small, glowy eyes! Those terrible, terrible eyes!
Bhiff: All of ours fire red lasers now.
Danson: Bhiff! What was that thing?
Bhiff: Nothing. Just a Jawa. Local riff-raff. I doubt there’ll be much of a local response.
Danson: But, I just murdered in innocent citizen!
Bhiff: They’re not citizens! There dirty little border-jumpers with fourteen kids to feed, who sell other peoples garbage for a living!
Danson: He had fourteen kids? *whimper* You sure I’m not going to be in serious trouble?
Bhiff: Of course not! We’re the Empire, Danson! We run things here. The locals have no power to punish you. I think.
Stormtrooper: I really liked that one trooper’s armor. All the blue trimming. So stylish. Our armor is so soulless and boring.
Danson: That was too easy.
Bhiff: Imperial detail just isn’t what it used to be.
Danson: What did it use to be?
Bhiff: Utter crap. Now it’s degraded to a Communist level of quality.
Danson: Wait, he’s doing the questioning?
Bhiff: Well, he was closest in Tatooine orbit.
Danson: Holy crap! Who’s running this army?
McBomb: Good citizen, there is no need to aim that weapon. What is your name:
Grun: Grun, sir.
McBomb: And your station?
Grun: I run this bar with my twin brother—
McBomb: I don’t need your bloody life story, you git. Now then, Grin—
Grun: Grun, sir. Grin is my broth—
McBomb: Whatever. Where were you during the incidents that summoned us here today?
Grun: I was serving drinks to my fine customers.
McBomb: Don’t give me that! This city is nothing but a wretched hive of scum and villainy!
Danson: He also has a taste for the dramatic, huh? What is it with the future? It’s full of ass—
Bhiff: All right, Teflin, you can stand down now.
McBomb: Keep you comments to yourself, nancy-boy! Now, it was you that let in the customers in that caused this mess, wasn’t it?
Grun: No, sir. That was my assistant Wuh—
McBomb: Don’t lie to me, peon! You cannot fool the servants of the Imperial Arms so easily!
Grun: But—
McBomb: The truth!
Grun: Well, I—
McBomb: Come on!
Grun: But—
McBomb: That’s it! This will be a solo-run establishment from now on!
Grun: Aaagh! Don’t kill me! I swear I didn’t do anything!
McBomb: Ha ha ha! All right, now, lad, don’t get in a twist! I was only trying to make sure that you were straight with me. Look! I even had the safety on me bazooka on! Huh. I could swear the safety latches like this. Whoops, heh. I guess now the safety’s on. Now, boys, were where we?
Stormtrooper: My aim’s all thrown off!
Danson: Oh, it’s not like you can hit anything anyway.
Stormtrooper 1: What was that?
Stormtrooper 2: It was that lousy clone recruit. You know, the one with the cool rifle.
Stormtrooper 1: Do you think if I report him and kill him, they’ll let me keep it?
Azzhoule: Danson is considered armed and… mildly dangerous. Try and talk him down, but if you have to shoot him, try not to damage his rifle.
Bhiff: Danson, you’re in a lot of trouble!
Danson: I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Stormtrooper. My name’s… Spigot. And I, I never make trouble. I just putter about in my home made of junk. It’s rather cozy if you don’t mind the draft. Gets rather cold at night…
Bhiff: Goodbye, Danson. May the Force be with you. And your rifle.