In which the Potato Crew creates art.
The latest Sunday riots had earned the Potatoes a most welcome gift: access to MS Paint on the rec room’s wall projector. It wasn’t actually a gift, per see, since it had the condition of “never sing disco while naked ever again so everyone doesn’t go crazy” attached to it, but it was still a welcome change.
But, wait. Why did the xenos never grant them more technological ammenities, considering they are not held back by the same experiment rules?
Well, even though the xenos loved the Potatoes for their smol-like street cred, ironically, they also viewed the Potatoes as a trio of savages in need of “cultural enlightenment” for that same reason. So they wanted to teach them their ways while keeping progress as accurate as possible, and that was easier without access to the wonderful world of memes and shitposts (for better or worse). So, no GalNet for them.
On the other claw, the offline tech they could offer them happened to be inside their anchored ship, Starbinder, but the Potatoes refused to leave the lab on the grounds that 1) they were contractually obliged to stay in there, 2) they had no reason to believe it wasn’t a trap and they weren’t going to be eaten alive, and 3) going back and forth through the station would be such a drag since they still had to train all week in the test room.
The collective groan of bewilderment and chagrin the xenos let out after hearing such reasons would go on to travel the depths of space like a ghostly echo, spooking traveling ships and remote stations alike.
Luckily for the Captain and her crew, this Monday an engineer discovered amongst the surviving smol-consoles a smol-app for painting. And even luckier for the Captain and her crew, the Potatoes immediately accepted the trade for using the app.
“Everything will be better now.” Was the collective sentiment across the station, as they all looked forward to continue the drudgery of their mission with a semblance of order and decorum. After all, what antics could be done with a paint app? If anything, the Potatoes would either make crappy drawings in an attempt to shitpost, or something with actual artistic merit would surface, but in both conclusions the xeno crew would remain observant at all times. No more temptation of joining the Potatoes in their pagan rituals.
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And that happened to be true for the first few days, in which the Potatoes just messed with the paint app for giggles while the researchers and interns continued their observation.
Then the mood took a sudden 180 degrees turn.
“…Showearealreadypashshefourteenyearshmark.” Said Potato Noodle as he scribbled things on the wall in the shape of a diagram that was slowly becoming convoluted and crammed, his buddies, Feathers and Kibbles sitting at the center observing him in silence. “Inshattimeframe,wehaveonlybeenforgettingshpeshificdetailshaboutourpash.” But, as if this activity was not enough, the trio were also passing the ball amongst themselves like it was the most normal thing, the deformed Broball lazily traveling back and forth from “presentator” to “audience”. “Namely:ournamesh,familiesh,birshplaceandbirshdate…”
The impromptu conference was also being closely observed (and recorded) by the xeno crew of #DX192, which managed to fit half its populace in the observation theater after word had summoned them out of curiousity.
“Shinceweshtillremembertechnicalshings,likeMathandPhyshics.” Continued Noodle.
“Andwecanlearnnewshtuff.Ibelieveshisshelectiveamneshiacanbeovercomeifweshticktowhattriggershourmemoriesh.Sho-” Noodle begun to draw what appeared to be a logo of some kind. “Intheintereshtofenshuringagreaterchansheofsuccesh,Iproposhewewearanidentity.”
“Gentlemen,IgiveyouThePotato.”
[https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/afbfaaba-1b55-4d85-9e4f-a7d2ae3025a9/dfp1fml-ac3ee95b-01f6-49fe-8ff6-85ccedc49d63.png?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcL2FmYmZhYWJhLTFiNTUtNGQ4NS05ZTRmLWE3ZDJhZTMwMjVhOVwvZGZwMWZtbC1hYzNlZTk1Yi0wMWY2LTQ5ZmUtOGZmNi04NWNjZWRjNDlkNjMucG5nIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.MruQIpVnek5GKz7fclrHa1DblwM0qbQW_Ogww7mjHTc]
A feeling of power resonated through the station.