Seems like the chuckleheads at Fucklefish lost interest in making these quests. I have no fucking idea what this was about. Oh, and I heard you all loud and clear. I can go fuck myself with trying to draw shit.

So you can see what I’m dealing with here in terms of shitty drawing style. These are practice doodles. I’m attempting to figure out exactly how simplistic or complex I want to go, what kind of faces, hands, feet, etc to work with. It does me no good to pick one style for one drawing and a totally different one for the next. Anyway, enjoy these crappy photos of doodles.

No, that’s not some weird carrot in my hand, it was supposed to be a flashlight.

I would rather draw these...

Getting screenshots of the interesting moments in this game is too tricky, as things happen before I have a chance to respond to them. I’d rather just draw these things, but my art is that terrible style where I’m stuck between too complex to be charmingly simple but too simple to be stunningly complex. It’s more like... shit style. It’s shit style.

I HAVEN’T GOT THAT FUCKING TOILET INSTALLED FIVE MINUTES AND SHE’S CHRISTENING IT. To be fair, I can piss down on the planet’s surface, but she’s probably been holding it in since she magically appeared on my ship with that fanfare of kazoos and confetti.

I’m not even kidding, this flower box’s description is that you can hide in it. You use it, and you basically stand in the box WITH YOUR HEAD STICKING OUT and you’re “hidden”. I stood there in that fucking flower box all god damned night, and the only thing that spotted me was the cactus, but it saw me go in in the first place, so it knew I was there to begin with.

I’m still trying to comprehend what happened here. Somehow, rain cannot pass through the giant fucking gaps in a fence, and builds up in any fenced in area, turning it into a wading pool. The poor chickens were drowning in their own coop, so I opened the gate, releasing the rain water and freeing the chickens, who --angered at their former masters for sitting idly by and watching them drown-- attacked everyone in sight. Those who fell victim to their terrible pecking, rather than simply TWISTING THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF BECAUSE THEY’RE CHICKENS, AMONG THE DUMBEST BIRDS IN THE UNIVERSE AND EASILY OVERCOME BY ANYONE WITH HANDS AT THEIR DISPOSAL, they opted to flee in terror and scream for help from non-existent guards.

THE URINE CONTENT ON THIS HOTH PLANET IS WAY TOO DAMNED HIGH

Wait where's the duck?!!

I have not located a duck. In the meantime, please submit all questions (or compliments on my manly physique) to Lt. Uhura or Petty Officer Fluffybutt.

These are the voyages of Dirtnibbler III, space explorer. Together with his crew: Lt. Uhura, communications officer; and Petty Officer Fluffybutt, he embarks on journeys throughout the universe, collecting a wide variety of crops to grow on his farmstead and baking cakes for assassins to give to the families of their victims.

To boldly go into alien-infested mines on meaningless missions to save workers with giant fucking tools who have no actual need of assistance so that penguins and rabbits will upgrade his ship, The HMD Heap. To wear crudely hammered together space armor made by a man with no background in smithing while wielding medieval weaponry and assorted junk guns people leave lying around underground in chests and shit. To paint everything purple because it’s very kingly and to wear this rad baseball cap until something better comes along.

This is Starboned.

I found those fucking miners I was sent in to rescue.

Here’s the thing though: they’re all carrying giant ass-fucking hammers and the minute they see an alien, they all whip out bazookas and assault rifles and unload on the sons of bitches. Like, I showed up, and three miners took out an army of aliens as I watched.

WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU PEOPLE NEED ME FOR?

The only sensible conclusion I can come to is that I wasn’t in to rescue them from the aliens, I was sent in to rescue them BECAUSE THE FUCKING DOORS ARE HARD IF NOT IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND AND THEY’VE STUMBLED THEIR ASSES AROUND IN THE BASEMENT FOR FIVE MONTHS KILLING ALIENS AND WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO OPEN THE DOOR ON THE SURFACE AND SHOW THEM THE WAY OUT.

SERIOUSLY

THESE PEOPLE DID NOT NEED ME. AT ALL

AT ALL.

THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF CORPORAL BRAD AND COMMANDER BADASS

CHAPTER 2: Cmdr Badass lead the way, descending into the lower sections of the mine fearlessly, while Cpl Brad held up the rear, dragging behind like old lady pants. Alien monstrosities rushed forth out of the darkness, only to taste green electric death from the barrel of Badass’s plasma cannon.

THE FURTHER MISADVENTURES OF KEVIN AND THE ASSHOLE

CHAPTER 2: Asshole charged recklessly into the bottom levels of the mine, barely registering the death ad destruction around him. Kevin held back, choosing to wisely cover the rear and expecting at any moment to hear Asshole scream as he brainlessly stumbled into a hive of alien lifeforms. Unfortunately, this never happened, and he had to listen to Asshole’s maniacal laughter as he emptied clip after clip into everything in sight.

So this alien-infested mining facility is feeling pretty epic. It’d really be best with a group of Space Marines, but since there’s just ol’ King Dirtnibbler III on his own, I make do by playing all the roles.

This place is three parts Aliens, one part DOOM. You flip a switch thinking you’re activating a light or unlocking a room and instead a trapdoor pops open in the ceiling and angry green fuckbeasts come pouring out.

I guess the pile of dead bodies on the floor was supposed to be a hint. I ain’t too good with hints though. Hell, it took me five minutes just to find the doors to get into this damned place.

This rescue mission just got awkward.

I am not a smart man.

Suffer rapid decompression as you exit the airlock!

Feel the intense agony of your blood boiling in your veins!

Don’t hold that last breath or your lungs will violently rupture!

Collapse into a coma from the rapid onset of hypoxia!

BURN ALL THE STUFF

I just found my new favorite toy. Ethanol ain’t got nothin on the intoxicating effect of lighting up a dark crevice with purifying flame, brothers and sisters. 

NEXT STOP: The Ragweed Homeworld.  TIME TO GRILL UP SOME TURNIPHEADS