All these years you've been sitting inside this giant Xbox-looking shipping container, ignoring all objects other than your space phone, you are beyond the point of settling. You can't just talk to any random traveler who walks in on you while you're flapping your head around and chirping. That man better bring that carbon. No less than 20 units.
It doesn't matter if he brings it from halfway across the galaxy or from the potted plant sitting in your office. Girl, it's about respect. It shows he will do what it takes to give you what you need. And what you need is 20 carbon. No, don't you dare get up and get it yourself. Never get it yourself. Never do anything. You just sit right there. Flapping your little bird-frog head around.
He come in here with that iron you just tell him nuh-uh. You turn around and jetpack boost your cheap ass right back out of here. For this girl it is carbon or it is nothing. Oh, but he gives you that carbon? You're going to get serious. You look into his eyes and you ask him some questions about blueprints on your computer. You just ask him, it doesn't matter if he understands you. Glip-gloppin', fizz-floppin' whatever. You go on and ask that boy.
Don't sell yourself short. Don't start thinking about whether or not he is going to bring you that good, good 20 carbon you need. He needs you even worse than you need him. What is he gonna do? Talk to that pyramid? Rub his body on the abandoned computer with the barnacles on it?
Sure, he may run past you thirty times selling things at your trade computer, never even give you a second look. You just act like it doesn't bother you. Don't get needy. Because one day he'll be like, "You know, I run past this girl every day to sell the cubes and rocks. Today I'm going to talk to this bird-frog thing." And that's when you got him. He's already made up his mind. He's gonna feed you that 20 carbon without even thinking about it.
I know you want to talk to him, girl. You could ask him about his journey or maybe speak in hushed tones about the strange wisdom he has garnered from the ancient ruins. But don't talk about any of that stuff. In fact, have no meaningful interaction with him. Just ask about those blueprints and then whatever he says give him some blueprints for like a slime hat that he already has. You don't need to impress him, he needs to impress you.
If he comes back again, girl, you just be like, "Carbon? What do I look like, some sort of giant wolf cow that absorbs nutrients from sunlight even though it has fangs? Carbon is played out. I need that good, good Heridium now."
We're not going to solve gun massacres with bad manners, people.
The guns are gone. Now what happens to all those paper targets? Don't tell me you forgot about the paper targets. The ones hanging from little clips on fancy clotheslines at shooting ranges. With no guns to destroy these legions of paper bastards, they go unchecked.
A sign proclaiming "BACTA: DA FUTURE" marks the town's medical clinic
1998: I upload dave.pcx, and change the course of history
Set goals for yourself, and fulfill them. Absurd! Only in video games!
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