DuracellEnergizer

ZkinandBonez said:

I really like this painting. Jar Jar actually looks like a dignified character, rather than being the complete goof he turned out to be. I'm curious as to who actually made this as it shows a very different version of Jar Jar than all the other concept art that was made.

Looks like Doug Chiang's work to me. 

ray_afraid said:

I hate the PT lightsaber handles though. They just don't look the same as the ones in the OT.

The PT lightsabers in general or just the ones that are meant to be the same lightsabers used by Ben and Luke in the OT? 

Tobar said:

DuracellEnergizer said:

Plus, it had Keanu Reeves; virtually every movie he appears in is ruined by his mere presence.

Not a fan of the movie, but I'll admit he doesn't bring it down (He's no worse than everyone else around him). 

I don't think the original version of Highlander 2 is in print anymore (Not certain of this, though.).

RicOlie_2 said:

The oldest threads are archived on the Wayback Machine (partially)--they're not on this version of the forum.

I wonder why ... *shiftyeyes* 

Did you take a shortcut through a wormhole?

I've never held a SW marathon, but if I did, there'd definitely be leather, chains, whips, a rack, and at least one iron maiden involved in the proceedings.

INT. MANSION/DEN – EVENING

In the large, spacious, finely furnished den of a luxurious mansion located in an unknown location sits MALCOLM MCDOWELL. Seated in a leather upholstered armchair before a crackling fireplace, he drinks a dry martini through a crazy straw while ALANIS MORISSETTE stands over him; dressed in a bright red bikini top and bottom, her lips slathered in dark violet lipstick and her hair styled in a big, curly ‘80s style, she holds Malcolm’s eyes open with a pair of robotic hands while she deposits eye drops with her organic ones.

Without warning, the door behind them is kicked open with a violent CRASH. Spinning around, Alanis’ eyes go wide as CHRISTOPHER LAMBERT – dressed in DayGlo coveralls and sporting a long mullet – storms in, a pair of heavy disruptor rifles held in both hands.

CHRISTOPHER LAMBERT: (grins) Do you want to live forever?

Opening fire, Lambert lays waste to the den and its inhabitants, laughing maniacally.

CUT TO

James Kirk seated in his quarters aboard the Saladin, watching a movie on a flatscreen display.

Suddenly, the door buzzer outside his quarters rings.

KIRK: Come.

The door slides open. Turning toward the open doorway, Kirk finds Gary Mitchell standing there, wearing his red Starfleet uniform and a crap-eating grin upon his face.

MITCHELL: One first officer, reporting as ordered.

KIRK: (shocked) Gary? (ecstatic) Gary! (beat) You’re a sight for sore eyes, you old space dog!

MITCHELL: You’re uglier than ever, Jimmy-Boy!

Mitchell enters the room and the two men greet each other vigorously, happy to see one another for the first time in several months.

MITCHELL: I hear Starfleet’s given you the Enterprise. Good thing you’ve got me to keep you out of trouble.

KIRK: That was just a ruse to lure you here. Actually, they want me to keep an eye on you.

MITCHELL: (claps Kirk on the back) Listen, we’ve got some time before the change-of-command ceremony, right?

KIRK: (checks his chrono) About two-and-a-half hours.

MITCHELL: Good. I’ll buy you a lunch and a drink, to celebrate. How’s that sound?

KIRK: (shrugs) Sounds good to me.

INT. STARBASE 95/BAR

Having made their way to a bar, Kirk and Mitchell now sit at a table next to viewport which looks out onto the barren orb of P1C-0072.

MITCHELL: (looking out at the planet) What a view. (turns to Kirk) Couldn’t they have parked this station over a comelier planet?

Kirk merely shrugs. Mitchell picks up a menu and begins to read it over.

MITCHELL: Ah, this looks good: “Bolian Zombie”.

KIRK: (frowns) Isn’t that stuff at least 130 proof?

MITCHELL: (grins) Thank modern medicine for ocular implants.

Mitchell enters the order into a small keypad set in the centre of the table. Moments later, an Andorian waitress saunters over to their table, a pair of Bolian Zombies balanced on a tray in her hands.

After the drinks are placed on the table and the waitress leaves, Kirk just sits there, looking at the tall glass before him; layers of silver liquor – lightest shades on the top, darkest on the bottom – fill the glass, a straw and some blue fruit protruding from the top.

MITCHELL: (sucks on his straw) Ahh, that’s nice. Give yours a taste, James.

Picking out the bit of fruit and eating it, Kirk picks the glass up and puts the rim to his lips. Before he can take a sip, though, Mitchell takes hold of the captain’s wrist and forces it back down.

MITCHELL: (irate) Use the straw! Breaking the layers is an insult to the bartender!

KIRK: Gary, there is no bartender. The waitress synthesized these drinks for us.

MITCHELL: The principle’s the same. It came in layers, it has to be drunk in layers.

KIRK: Alright, if that will make you happy.

Putting the straw to his lips, Kirk drains the bottom layer of his drink. Before he can even finish swallowing, he’s coughing violently, his eyes flowing hot with tears.

MITCHELL: (drinks two whole layers from his glass) As you know, I only have a taster’s tolerance for booze, but this stuff’s pretty enjoyable. What do you think of it?

Having gained some semblance of control over his coughing fit, Kirk hurriedly punches another order into the keypad.

KIRK: (hoarse) “Enjoyable” doesn’t even begin to describe it!

As the Andorian waitress returns to their table, Kirk is quick to spring up and snatch the tall glass of ice water from her tray, greedily downing the cold liquid in three large swallows.

INT. ENTERPRISE/BRIDGE

Attired in a green dress uniform, S’Pock makes his way to the command chair. Aside from himself, the bridge is entirely empty.

Pushing a button set into one of the armrests, he activates the intercom, opening a transmission to all regions of the starship.

S’POCK: This is Maj. S’Pock. May I have the attention of all crewmembers. (beat) The change-of-command ceremony will take place on the recreation deck in thirty minutes precisely. Dress is formal. Your presence is expected.

With the message given, S’Pock cuts the transmission.

Feels weird looking through that old thread, reading old posts by posters who don't appear to be around anymore ... It's kind of like looking through a mausoleum; there's something creepy about it.

TV's Frink said:

The Matrix was a non-studio film that somehow got made in the studio system.  It was not dumbed-down at all, rather it escaped being tampered with.

Between all the guns, explosions, overchoreographed fight scenes, cliched "chosen one" blather, and the nonsensical logic/physics behind the machines' use of humans as a power source, it sure fooled me.

How many Philip K. Dick movies have you seen?

Not as many as I'd like. Apparently there aren't enough guns, explosions, and kung fu in any of them to appeal to Hollywood filmmakers' tastes.

And Keanu Reeves was good in The Matrix, no matter what you think of his body of work.

Funny. He appears to be the same monotonous automaton here that he is in 100.99% of all his other films.

...

I guess I should mention one thing I found honestly good about The Matrix, though: Hugo Weaving as Agent Smith. His was the best damned character in the entire movie.

Possessed said:

thejediknighthusezni said:

      I'm an idiotic, internalized homophobic asshole

 

FTFY 

Neglify said:

I want to see the Star Wars Christ Mad Special.

Jesus healing the OT of its SE sicknesses ... entering Skywalker Ranch and pushing all the computers over onto the floor ... criticizing the anti-OOT fantards for their hypocrisy ... driving the demons out of ol' George ...

Yeah, I definitely want to see this, too. 

ALLOL

TV's Frink said:

I agree.  The green lightsaber contrasting with the black outfit looks great.

You ... agree with me?

Possessed said:

Meesa no think so.

The irony -- I can taste it! ... I think.

TV's Frink said:

DuracellEnergizer said:

Final Destination has an interesting premise. 

...

The Matrix, on the other hand...

It's like you're using English, but have no idea which order to put the words in.

Okay, how about a little bit of rephrasing ...

The Matrix had an interesting premise ... a premise processed through the dumbed-down modern Hollywood filter ... a premise I've seen executed far better in other, more intelligent works (Many of Philip K. Dick's stories come instantly to mind.). Plus, it had Keanu Reeves; virtually every movie he appears in is ruined by his mere presence.

EXT. SPACE – WRIGLEY’S PLEASURE PLANET

A few light-years away from Starbase 95, we find Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet.

An egg-shaped body approximately the same size as Rhode Island, Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet isn’t a true planet; it is a captured asteroid which has been hollowed out and equipped with antigravity generators and weather control systems, allowing a temperate, life-sustaining environment to exist upon its surface in spite of its small size.

INT. MORNING STARS RESORT/MITCHELL’S SUITE/BEDROOM – DAY

Golden sunlight filters in through the tall, wraparound windows, filling the spacious room and falling upon the queen-sized bed currently occupied by the sleeping form of MAJ. GARY MITCHELL.

Beside Mitchell’s bed stands a short, round table, upon which rests a small holoprojector; the holoprojector suddenly begins to chirp.

MITCHELL: (frowns in his sleep) Mrffff …?

Turning over away from the table, he lifts his sheets over his head and bunches them up against his ears in a bid to muffle the sound. When this proves inadequate, he angrily slaps at the projector, hoping to make contact with the button that’ll turn the device off. Instead, a short holographic projection of himself – standing tall in a blue-and-white T-shirt and dark gray Bermuda shorts – flickers to life.

MITCHELL’S HOLOGRAM: Hi there, Gary. This is you, yourself, approximately sixteen hours ago, telling you to wake up!

Hearing his own voice yelling at him, Gary bolts upright in bed, fully awake.

MITCHELL’S HOLOGRAM: (cont’d) Knowing you were going to spend your last hours of freedom partying like it’s 1399, I figured you’d be too swept up in your hangover to remember you’re supposed to leave early today for Starbase 95.

MITCHELL: (groggy) Oh, God – what time is it?

As Mitchell begins fumbling about in search of his chronometre, the hologram replies.

MITCHELL’S HOLOGRAM: (cont’d) Don’t worry, Gary. I programmed this message to play three hours before the last shuttle leaves for the starbase. That leaves you plenty of time to get fed, showered, dressed, packed, and to the spaceport.

MITCHELL: I really think of everything, don’t I?

MITCHELL’S HOLOGRAM: James chose you to be his first officer. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?

MITCHELL: (turns off the holoprojector) No, you wouldn’t.

As Mitchell gets ready to leave his bed, a near-Human woman with orange skin, a head of large, feathery white hair, and a tray of food held between her hands enters the bedroom; dressed solely in a purple nightshirt, she is an exotically beautiful female.

ORANGE LADYFRIEND: (smiles) Morning, Gar, honey. (lifts up the tray, tilting it left-and-right in a little dance) I brought you a little something.

MITCHELL: (grins) Breakfast in bed. My favourite.

INT. STARBASE 95/DOCKING BAY

Having entered the docking bay, the Vrekasht – an Ericsson-class warp shuttle – makes its approach toward the Enterprise.

INT. VREKASHT/COCKPIT

Inside the spacious cockpit of the shuttle sit only two individuals: the pilot – a black-and-silver furred Caitian male – and Nyota Uhura herself. Having traded in her civilian garb, she is now dressed in her Starfleet uniform; aside from the black skirt, it is identical in form to those red-jacketed uniforms we’ve already seen worn by other operations division officers.

CAITIAN PILOT: (turns to Uhura) The Enterprise is prepared to receive you. Are you ready to beam over, Lieutenant?

UHURA: I’m ready.

CAITIAN PILOT: Step onto the transporter pad and I’ll start the transfer.

Nodding once in acknowledgement, Uhura picks the suitcase which has been resting down beside her up and crosses over to the transporter pad installed in the rear of the cockpit.

CAITIAN PILOT: (activates transporter) Energizing.

ENTERPRISE/TRANSPORTER ROOM

Once the transportation is finalized, Uhura finds herself standing inside the Enterprise’s transporter room. Manning the controls is 2ND LIEUTENANT JOHN THOMAS KYLE, a man with blond hair, blue eyes, and sharp features, dressed in a red jumpsuit.

Stepping away from the transporter controls, Kyle approaches Uhura as she steps down from the pad.

KYLE: (smiles) Welcome aboard the Enterprise (offers her his hand) So, you’re the new comm officer? I’m John – John Kyle.

UHURA: (shakes his hand) Nyota Uhura. (takes a gander about the room) So, this is the Enterprise.

KYLE: Yep, this is the old girl, alright.

UHURA: How long have you been assigned here, John?

KYLE: Oh, I’m new to the crew. I arrived here from the P2M-0057 colony just over a week ago.

UHURA: Have you had any trouble fitting in?

KYLE: Nope. Most everyone here’s pretty welcoming and friendly. Oh, except Mr. S’Pock, but he’s a Vulcan, so that’s to be expected from him. (beat) I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking. A lady such as yourself shouldn’t have any trouble making this ship home away from home.

UHURA: (half-smiles) From your lips to God’s ears, Mr. Kyle.

That's 'cause ROTJ in its entirety is cheap compared to SW and TESB. =P

Of course, Luke's all-black outfit will always be my favourite of his on-screen costumes.

Final Destination has an interesting premise. For that alone, I'm on the verge of giving it an extra point.

The Matrix, on the other hand ... Well, for insipid pablum, it isn't bad. A "C" is a more than generous score for a film of its ilk.

I think I should use "Richard Marquads" as a character name in one of my stories someday.

Imrahil said:

I've always hated the ROTJ design retcon that resulted in these uniforms:

Design retcon? *scratcheshead* 

EyeShotFirst said:

Art seems to be dominated by the miserable.

I can attest to this from personal experience.

Of course, part of my misery stems from the fact that I don't have the skills or tools needed to realize my artistic visions, so ...  

INT. ENTERPRISE/TRANSPORTER ROOM

Having arrived at the transporter room, Pike stands behind the transporter controls. Standing beside the captain, eyes and hands ready at the controls, is MAJ. MONTGOMERY SCOTT, a lean man with short black hair and a missing middle finger on his right hand.

SCOTT: They’re energizin’, captain.

A tube of blue energy forms within the transporter; Capt. Kirk’s form quickly materializes within it.

SCOTT: (cont’d) Here he comes.

Once the process is complete, the transporter shuts down, leaving Kirk standing there on the pad.

KIRK: Permission to come aboard, Captain?

CAPT. PIKE: Granted, Captain.

Approaching Kirk as the younger man steps down from the transporter pad, Pike offers his hand in greeting. Accepting the hand, Kirk gives it a firm shake.

KIRK: It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, sir.

CAPT. PIKE: No need for formalities, Jim. Call me Chris. (looks over at Scott) There’s a gentleman over here you should get to know ….

Pike directs Kirk over to the major. The two shake hands.

SCOTT: Maj. Montgomery Scott, sir, chief engineer. Call me Scotty.

KIRK: (smiles) We have quite a lot in common, Mr. Scott. I was assistant engineer on the Farragut; that should make our working together that much easier.

SCOTT: (perturbed) Er … that it should, sir.

With the greetings out of the way, Pike begins the tour of the ship. Once the two captains have left the transporter room, Maj. Scott frowns.

SCOTT: Och! That’s all Ah need – some wet-behind-the-ears rookie tellin’ me muh job!

INT. ENTERPRISE/CARGO BAY

Standing on a walkway, Pike and Kirk look down at the ground level of the cargo bay. Below them, S’Pock and a Saurian – Sergeant Aennik – work together arranging cargo.

CAPT. PIKE: You’ll want to meet my first officer, Maj. S’Pock. That’s him down there.

KIRK: The Saurian?

CAPT. PIKE: (laughs) No, the Vulcan.

KIRK: (surprised) He’s Vulcan? (squints)

CAPT. PIKE: Not a full Vulcan. He’s Human on his mother’s side.

KIRK: Must be some woman who’d settle down with a green-blooded Vulcan male. (beat) I thought your first officer was a Human woman – Col. Robbins?

CAPT. PIKE: (smiles wistfully) Eureice Robbins was my number one. She was promoted and assigned her own command two years ago.

KIRK: Oh.

Down below, S’Pock and Aennik continue their duties.

S’POCK: (cont’d) Store those drugs in the stasis field. The machine parts aren’t perishable.

PO. AENNIK: I have already had that done, sir. (checks her PADD) The resulting rearrangement saves 112.4 cubic millimetres.

Having come down from the walkway, Kirk and Pike approach S’Pock and Aennik.

S’POCK: Excellent work, Sergeant. You – (takes notice of the two new arrivals) Yes, Captain?

CAPT. PIKE: Sorry to interrupt, Mr. S’Pock, but I wanted you to meet the man who’ll be taking over the centre seat. This is Capt. Kirk.

S’POCK: (to Kirk) Greetings, Captain. Your record is quite impressive.

KIRK: Thank you, Mr. S’Pock. You know, I was first officer on the El Dorado, so we have a lot in –

As this conversation is occurring, the cable of a mechanical winch holding a cargo container aloft – weakened and overstretched – begins to snap. Sgt. Aennik immediately takes notice of the cable and the impending danger.

SGT. AENNIK: (alarmed) Look out!

Leaping forward, the Saurian pushes Kirk, Pike, and S’Pock out of the way as the cable completely gives way and sends the container crashing to the deck. Unfortunately for Aennik, she isn’t able to clear herself from the path of the descending container in time; it slams down on her lower body with crushing force, pulverizing everything from the hips down.

Aennik isn’t killed by the impact, but she is severely injured. The other three officers move in and crouch down around her as she begins to squirm and moan in complete agony.

CAPT. PIKE: (activates his comcorder) Pike to sick bay! Piper, it’s an emergency!

PIPER: (O.S.) On my way, Captain!

KIRK: (anxious) She’s in agony! Isn’t there anything we can do?

S’POCK: I am attempting that now, Captain.

Reaching out with his left hand, the calm and collected half-Vulcan gently lays it upon her head.

S’POCK: Aennik, your thoughts are my thoughts. We feel no pain ….

INT. ENTERPRISE/SICK BAY

Sometime later, Sgt. Aennik lies in a bed. Emergency surgery has already been performed on her broken body, and she is stable and in a state of comfortable, drug-induced unconsciousness. Standing a ways from her bed are Kirk, Pike, and DOCTOR MARK PIPER. A potbellied man with brown hair turned mostly gray, Piper is a man in late middle age who has all the appearance of a person who is carrying the entire weight of the galaxy on his shoulders.

CAPT. PIKE: How is she, Doctor?

PIPER: She’ll pull through, but her legs and hips were crushed. She may walk again, after reconstructive surgery … but that will take a long time. (glances back at Aennik) I don’t want to say this, but the fact of the matter is her career as a Starfleet officer is over. (angry) Good God, why did I agree to this assignment? I was planning my retirement! All the suffering I’ve had to face over the years – I was glad to finally leave it all behind! (turns back to the others) Why did I let Command place me here?!

CAPT. PIKE: She would have died without you, Doctor – don’t forget that.

PIPER: (sighs) I realize that, Captain. (beat) I’m just tired.

CAPT. PIKE: Kirk and I are going to my cabin for a drink. Care to join us?

PIPER: Not now, thanks. I think I’ll retire to my quarters for a nap.

INT. ENTERPRISE/PIKE’S CABIN

Entering his quarters, Capt. Pike gestures for Kirk to take a seat. As the younger captain does so, Pike goes to his desk; opening a drawer, he pulls out two short glasses and one long wine bottle.

KIRK: Piper strikes me as a good man. What’s eating him?

CAPT. PIKE: (pulls the cork from the bottle) Two months ago, my chief medical officer – Philip Boyce – died while on an away mission. Mark Piper, being the only qualified doctor available to us at the time, was assigned to the Enterprise on short notice; he was getting ready for retirement and doesn’t want to be here.

KIRK: Surely he can retire now that your tenure’s at an end?

CAPT. PIKE: That was supposed to be the plan, but there was a mix-up in the paperwork somewhere down the line; the doctor’s been assigned to a full five years of active duty aboard ship. (beat) He’s made appeals, and Starfleet Command’s promised to resolve the matter as soon as possible, but you know how bureaucrats are – they love to leave their wheels spinning in the mud.

Tilting the wine bottle, Pike pours some of its dark burgundy contents into the pair of glasses. Re-corking the bottle, he picks the two glasses up and saunters over to Kirk, handing one of them to the captain.

KIRK: (takes a sip) Wow! What is this?! It’s incredible!

CAPT. PIKE: Château Picard, vintage 1226.

KIRK: (takes another sip) You know, I have an old friend who’s a doctor – Leonard McCoy. I would have recommended him for CMO, but he’s currently stationed on Starbase 94, around Betelgeuse; even at warp 6, it’d take him about a year to get out here.

CAPT. PIKE: (takes a seat) Maybe you should go ahead and make that recommendation. Piper’s situation should be resolved in a year; it’d be nice to have a qualified medical officer you know you can trust on hand to take his place.

KIRK: Perhaps you’re right. I’ll have to think about it. (beat) Chris, if you don’t mind my asking … how can you give all this up? (gestures toward the ship around them) How can you step down and take a desk job as “fleet captain”? A command like this is everything I’ve ever wanted. How --?

CAPT. PIKE: Jim, I’m alike Piper in many ways. We’ve both been out here too long, seen too much, and missed out on so much more. (beat) When I first received command of the Enterprise, I felt like the gods themselves had come down from the heavens and blessed me with the greatest gift any man or woman could ever receive. After those first several months passed and stretched into years, that initial enthusiasm waned; the gift became more of a curse and my command of the Enterprise became a marriage – a hard, demanding marriage with diminishing returns. (beat) I want out of this marriage, Jim. I want to get away from her and get solid ground under my feet again. I want to settle down with a beautiful woman and create a beautiful family before it’s too late for me to do either.

A moment of silence passes between the two men.

KIRK: (raises his glass) A toast, then, Chris. May we both find whatever it is we’re looking for.

CAPT. PIKE: Amen.

They clink glasses.

MJ jokes can't work without cheap shots taken at his nose or sexuality. Sorry, but them's the breaks.