From: IN%"MBURNS@smith.smith.edu" "Been to the East" 14-OCT-1993 20:13:20.33 To: IN%"LSONKO@PEARL.TUFTS.EDU", IN%"S305603@GVLANSRV01.GIT.GULFAERO.COM", IN%"KRUGER@MATH.OKSTATE.EDU" CC: Subj: Starbucket! These are the voyages of the Starbucket. A long time ago in a galaxy far far away, an intrepid group of aspiring young writiers set off upon the voyages of theStarbucket, a Type 69 TARDIS capable of travel through not only space and time, but also parallel dimensions, alternate universes, impenetrable plotlines, and great yawning voids of characterization. This is not their story. This is the story of an alternate Starbucket, a Starbucket found empty, in a steady orbit around the planet Collegii V, a small planet notable only for the fact that it contained five small settlements, each a virtual civilization unto itself. Starbucket has few rules. 1. Traditionally, characters are (loosely) based upon their writers. 2. If characters have sidekicks, companions, buddied, whatever, they may be (and usually are) characters from movies, novels, cartoons, comic books, television shows, or real-life celebrities; they may be mangled parodies hereof; or they may be invented from whole cloth. 3. Characters may have their own vehicles, or they may rely upon the Starbucket for transportation. 4. Anyone may use someone else's character, as long as they interpret the character in keeping with its creator's vision, and as long as they return the character in the condition in which they found it. (I.E., no killing, dismembering, maiming, or otherwise permanently mucking about.) 5. If you use someone else's character in a story, run your story idea past them first. They may not *want* their character assimilated by the Borg or spirited away to Oz or trapped in a cave with Indiana Jones or turned into a dolphin. 6. Villains may also be characters from other sources, invented from whole cloth, or (traditionally) parodies of local or real-life persons. (Moderator's notes: The preceding are the rules of the collaborative writing adventure known as STARBUCKET. Since its inception at Bryn Mawr College in 1987, the adventures of the Starbucket have spawned, among other things, their own 'zine. In keeping with the spirit of the Starbucket and its creators, you are invited to begin yet another new Starbucket tradition. You have been selected due to your creativity, writing ability, acceptable insanity level, and the fact that the moderator knows who you are. RSVP's to the mailing list, questions, comments, and complaints should come through Maura (mburns@smith.smith.edu, 585-7374). As the moderator, it is also my task to come up with a suitable mission for the crew of the Starbucket once such a crew has been assembled. Fear not, you shall have a purpose in life. You should have only one primary character, ideally based on yourself, though you can always get rid of it and start fresh. You may have one or more companions, as is traditional in this sort of thing, which may be your own or lifted from any context you choose (Luke Skywalker, Rocky and Bullwinkle, Elektra: Assassin, the Mad Hatter, Masterweaver Piet for all I care, and so on-- its five year mission: to infringe upon as many copyrights as possible). The Starbucket's navigational facilities are also such that it may bring you ANYWHERE. Please RSVP to receive a copy of the mailing list and the stories that have been posted so far.) Traditional Starbucket elements are those of the great serials: Action Angst Romance Large weapons Magic Starbucket stories are usually written and/or presented in fragments, only a few screens long, connected or not, with a punchline or not. Titles are ptional but useful to tie together multi-part stories. Start posting, and may the Force be with you. From: IN%"MBURNS@smith.smith.edu" "Cordelia's Mom" 1-NOV-1993 08:38:59.38 To: IN%"KRUGER@MATH.OKSTATE.EDU", IN%"S305603@GVLANSRV01.GIT.GULFAERO.COM", IN%"LSONKO@PEARL.TUFTS.EDU" CC: Subj: Starbucket! The Time Lady jumped about a foot in the air at the sudden voice from a computer that should have given up years ago, and the indeterminate human started violently as well. Only the rugged-looking male looked unphased, but the woman was the first to recover her voice. "W... welcome to the *what*?" "The starship 'Starbucket,'" said the computer. "I am the ship's computer, Miranda." "Miranda?" repeated the indeterminate human. The woman nudged it, muttering in its ear "Shakespeare," and then added, a little louder, "Who owns this ship? I mean, where are we?" "Nobody owns it at the moment," said the computer, "except me, I guess, though why I bother I honestly can't figure out. I'm not sure exactly where it is, to be honest. We haven't actually been caught by a gravity field for a long, long time." "Caught by a gravity field? You mean this ship is just *drifting* in space?" "Well, more or less." "But why? How?" "Well, it's kind of complicated. It all started when-- oh. Excuse me. There's something strange happening in one of the cargo bays I'd better pay some attention to. Be right back. Toodle pip." The light beside the room's computer console that indicated Miranda's presence went slightly dimmer as she transferred her main attention elsewhere. "This is crazy," Jones said after a minute, echoing Melina's feelings more or less exactly. "Big deal," said Sparrow. "Hey, is this a kitchen? I'm starving." From: IN%"MBURNS@smith.smith.edu" "Cordelia's Mom" 1-NOV-1993 20:09:03.99 To: IN%"TABRON@BINAH.CC.BRANDEIS.EDU", IN%"LSONKO@PEARL.TUFTS.EDU" CC: Subj: 'Bucket. From Sarah Stewart. From: SMITH::SSTEWART "I'm QUICKLY beginning to really HATE computers." 12-OCT-1993 22:19:31.17 To: MAURA CC: GOD, CHRIS Subj: Enter Otto *Scene -- a long forgotten storage room of the spaceship STARBUCKET , a room so long forgotten that the computer barely remembers that it exists himself.* A crinkling flash of light, as bolts of energy zap across the corners of the room, all charging towards the center. A ball of energy swells, growing at the bolts converging point (you _would_ expect the computer to notice this, wouldn't you? Alas, the computer is a bit busy at the moment with another strange occurance that only happened a few minutes before.). The energy charges, the ball becoming more dense, a shimmering blue glow surrounding it (yeah, I know, you'd think that darn computer would notice, right? Well, this part of the ship was PRETTY abandoned. I mean, the other strange event is occuring in the kitchen, come on now kitchens are _much_ more interesting than abbandond storage bays). The ball of energy pulses and flickers. A figure of some sort can barely be seen within (the computer _was_ singing about beer after all. Beer _is_ kept in the kitchen. One could hardly surprised that the events in the kitchen would attract it's attention so much.) The electric ball of energy at last slowly begins to fade, revealing a figure dressed in white. The figure opens it's eyes and stands . It appears to be humanoid of sort (you'd think people would come up with something more original to write about than humans, wouldn't you?). He ( yes, it's male...) is dressed all in white, clothing which might possibly be described mideval by some. A white tabard and cloak covers chainmail armor. On the tabard is a cryptic symbol. To human types the symbol would most likely resemble that of a wide open eye, surrounded by another symbol looking something like: Q or some such. He also wears a white helmet over his stragelly, greasy black hair, and on the bridge of the nose is another Q looking symbol. The Paladen (for that _is_ what he is, if you haven't already guessed) draws out his blade, swinging it into the air before him. Then, he turns the blade, point downward, slaming it into the floor. ( Surprisingly the blade doesn't break. It just sort of falls over, the floor not realy causeing the blade any sort of damage.) The Paladen, seemingly not noticing the ineffectuallness of his blade and the floor, waves his hands about in front of himself in a mystical type of pattern. He drops down on his knees (wasn't he on them already? Well, in case the reader thought that he was in fact _not_ on his knees, he is now to clear up any confusion on that part) drops down on his knees, raising one hand high above his head and the other straight out in front of him. The forward hand he quickly pulls back, slapping it into his chest, and the other hand frimly grips him by the end of his nose. Speaking most piously, the Paladin cries out, "Oh, where have you sent me now, to do dirty deeds on the wonderous ass holes of the Universe, oh great god of AeyKew!" -=SS=- --------SSTEWART@Kate.smith.edu--Sarah Stewart--SSTEWART@Sophia.smith.edu------- From: IN%"MBURNS@smith.smith.edu" "Cordelia's Mom" 1-NOV-1993 20:09:08.40 To: IN%"TABRON@BINAH.CC.BRANDEIS.EDU", IN%"LSONKO@PEARL.TUFTS.EDU" CC: Subj: 'Bucket. From Kenny Quick. From: IN%"s305603@gvlansrv01.git.gulfaero.com" 19-OCT-1993 12:19:22.37 To: IN%"mburns@smith.smith.edu" CC: Subj: My Starbucket start Return-path: Delivery-receipt-to: s305603@gvlansrv01.git.gulfaero.com Received: from mickey.eng.gulfaero.com (134.216.64.1) by SMITH (PMDF #2568 ) id <01H4ANU6O1XS8WWTDY@SMITH>; Tue, 19 Oct 1993 11:56:47 EDT Received: from gvlansrv01.git.gulfaero.com by mickey.eng.gulfaero.com with SMTP (16.6/16.2) id AA19529; Tue, 19 Oct 93 11:49:27 -0400 Received: from GVLANSRV01/MAILQ by gvlansrv01.git.gulfaero.com (Mercury 1.0); Tue, 19 Oct 93 11:48:59 EDT Date: 19 Oct 1993 11:48:42 -0400 (EDT) From: Kenny Quick Subject: My Starbucket start To: mburns@smith.smith.edu Reply-to: s305603@gvlansrv01.git.gulfaero.com Message-id: <01H4ANU6W3AA8WWTDY@SMITH> Organization: Gulfstream Aerospace X-Envelope-to: mburns Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT Priority: normal X-Mailer: WinPMail v1.0 (R1) In yet ANOTHER abandoned cargo hold (doesn't this ship have quite a few?) where dust and dustbunnies live in quiet harmony, the peace is suddenly and irrevocably disturbed.... *WWWHHHHOOOOSSSSHHHHH!!!!!!!!* ....aaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! *!!!BAM!!!* (ASCII helps in not even a minute way in simulating the sound made by the opening of a transdimentional, transmutational, transient, transcontinental, transponding, transportational, transendential hole in the fabric of space/time or when a human head comes into contact both quickly and suddenly with something as immovable as an Onoxian storage crate.) As the portal closes in upon itself, imploding with only the slightest *pop*, Ned lies unconsious on the floor with a large purplish welt rising on his forehead, his pack gripped tightly in his right hand and the glimmering Key of Knardflist lying beside him. Now, being the curious sort that they are, the dustbunnies, after a period of sniffing and waiting for the danger imminent when the Key of Knardflist opens a transdimentional portal in the abandoned cargo bay of a Type 69 TARDIS spacecraft, hop merrily to the shimmering Key and the lump of unconsious, snoring, mushy human next to it. *sniff sniff sniff* All at once, the dustbunny siblings (Flopsy, Mopsy, Sneezy, Dopey, Dewey, Louis, Marsha, Greg, Peter and Cottontail) grab viciously for the Key, shouting obsenities and generally degrading the entire dustbunny race. Mopsy comes up with it shouting, "IT'S MINE!!!" followed by the chilling laughter only a dustbunny and the hideous HeyenaWargs of Epsilon IV can produce. With another *WHOOSH!* the Key of Knardflist opens the second portal in as many minutes and the dustbunny clan disappears in a cloud of dirt and a soft *pop* leaving behind only the family stockpile of dustcarrots and an unconsious Ned. Kenny Quick | kquick@gulfaero.com Gulfstream Aerospace | This is a test .sig Savannah, GA 31402