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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
"Jim knew what he must do to woo his love. He began to pound a seductive rhythm upon the walls, then let loose his heart's song. It was "Too Drunk to gently caress" by the Dead Kennedys."



Jim Spaceman, creative convention's finest recurring character and all around lovely dude, has finally earned his own thread. This is a collaborative art thread, for anybody who wants to page homage to CC's greatest hero. There is no fixed canon to Jim Spaceman: everybody remembers the day he sauntered into their lives, but nobody remembers it quite the same. All stories of him are echoes of echoes of tales once told by like a wise old alien or some poo poo.

WHO IS JIM SPACEMAN?

1) he is a spaceman
2) he thinks real deep about life and stuff
3) he loves the Dead Kennedys
4) he shoots bad guys with a ray gun
5) pew pew pew

WHAT DO I DO?

Write stories, draw pictures, tattoo his space helmet onto your face. Anything you can do to advance the legend of Jim Spaceman.

Stories:

Jim Spaceman's Adventure and the Fuel
Jim Spaceman: Moon Attack!
Orbital Decay

Art:

Misc (tbc):

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SurreptitiousMuffin
Mar 21, 2010
Yes, this is some good Spaceman.

________________________________________

Lost Property

Jim Spaceman smiled. "How about I pay you in sexmaking?" he said to the three-eyed alien babe.

"Sir this is a police station," she said. "That's not legal, nor appropriate."

Zounds! However else was he going to get back his collection of classic punk vinyl? The dastardly alien overlord Mingol had obviously paid-off these space police to stop Jim from getting back his prized possessions. Mingol didn't even want the vinyl because they held sentimental value- he wanted them for some dumb hipster bullshit reason about authenticity. He was probably going to mix them into EDM or something. What an rear end in a top hat.

There was only one thing for it. Jim drew his trusty blaster, and shot the alien policeman right in the face. "PUNKS NOT DEAD" he cried, while unleashing a fusillade of plasma bolts on the crooked coppers.

After it was done, his phone buzzed. It was Spaceman Jim, his roommate and arch-nemesis. "Jim Spaceman," said Spaceman Jim, "I found a box of your old records. You want to hold onto them or can I put them up on Gumtree?"

The stink of dead and burning bodies surrounded Jim Spaceman, and he sighed. He really needed to ask questions first and shoot later. "Yeah nah," he said, "just leave them alone for now. What are we doing for dinner?"

"It's Taco Tuesday," said Spaceman Jim. "So we're having tacos."

"Cool," said Jim Spaceman.

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