AH YEAH II (NO!!! NOT AGAIN!!!)
(HIDDEN ARTICLE III)
by Richard Karsmakers & Stefan Posthuma
On second thought, let's call this some other name. Since it is
not really a Warchild story anymore. Let's call it...
THE WARCHILD EXPERIENCE
Note: At a certain stage during the composition of this
somewhat insane writing, the latest Public Enemy CD was blasting
away (parents not home...yeah!) and some loose yells are quoted
along. Since we wrote down everything that popped into our
minds, and Public Enemy surely pops into your mind when it is
being boomed by two 120 Watt speakers at intense volume. Anyway,
there is no racial intend or whatsoever. Don't take it
(We've had some people mis-interpreting various statements in
various writings, so this explains why I added this note
afterwards. We're completely innocent and naive!)
Please consume some kind of mind-expanding fabric before you
read this article. It was written entirely while severely
intoxicated with immense amounts of alcoholic beverages. Please
don't get this wrong, we're not promoting the apocalyptic
misabuse of alcohol, we're merely suggesting that you would get
completely pissed out of your mind on the stuff. So stop nagging
and read this shit.
"Aah! Joke! Joke!", the ST NEWS conspirators exclaimed.
A somewhat baffled look settled itself on the face of Cronos
Warchild, mercenary annex hired gun, upon the hearing of these
Had the ST NEWS editorial staff fooled him by mentioning the
fact that they would stop? Had they sought to ridicule his
endless lack of intelligence?
Whatever may or may not have been the case, he completely failed
to grasp anything and therefore couldn't help only to be baffled.
As his basic built-in training told him not to accept getting
insulted, however (and he indeed feared that some kind of insult
was in progress), his brain relapsed into some kind of anger and
he disappeared into some kind of giga-pan-dis-dimensional
dimension for which no further reasons at all can be found (think
of it as some kind of whim of the authors of this shit, who
actually happen to be extremely under the influence of ethanol
during the writing of this).
A giga-pan-dis-dimensional dimension?
One thing was sure. Whatever it was, Cronos did see lots of
ants, honey jars, men wearing hats with ridiculous erect thingies
on top of them, and brainenchantingly gorgeous nurses that bent
over him while gently pressing some of the prominent pieces of
their anatomy right upto his nasal cavitities.
A very strange thing happened: He could only think of red
(Which' reason is totally beyond the scope of this miserable
excuse for an article to explain, so what the heck).
Yeah, Stefan here
The whole world seemed to revolve around him - in any case, the
enormous fatamorgasmic amounts of purple and red dots that
enveloped him seemed to mathematically resolve themselves into
paraclysmic phantasms of semi-amorphous plasms that skidded
across the maybe not so particularly and totally endless matrix
of his somewhat limited mind. Anyway, he felt quite cosmic and
parasymulastic and drifting across the whatever that was coloured
in a particular shape of purple that can only be found amongst
the most exotic species of the triple-winged paradise bird of
A bit of background information: It is night. The two authors
are severely intoxicated. There is no telling what they might
Richard on the keys
Cronos' muscles seemed to suffer involuntary spasms as some kind
of disco music seemed to shuddder his being into unconscious
ominiscence (note of the author: This seems to be English, so I
used it - sorry if it isn't). Beats seemed to envelop his being
and all kinds of strnge crisp bags were making eerie noises as
he tried to grasp what was happening.
"Pet Shop Boys or what?!"
"No....it's Depeche Mode. Filthy faggot band."
Cronos lost total consciousness as he felty his arms grow heavy
while his keyboard presses no longer seemed to indicate any
rational being being present at the keys, and droplets of saliva
being present on the monitor screen.
What had happened to that ridiculous person with its
ridiculously erecty thingy?
Wot happened to the fuel station?
Where had the saliva gone?
F.cking' Depeche Mode. Who would buy that SHIT?!
Cronos really felt like wanting to have a pee....
Stefan types now
The loo looked a bit strange to him. Shadows haunted the surface
of his methaphorical planes. Somehow, Mel C. was on his mind.
With her blackened hair and ravenously brown eyes. Multi-coloured
reflections danced before his eyes. Why was his coordination way
out of sync with his mind? Is there a purpose to all this? He
spiralled into a cyberspace full of octopedal beings. There was
no end to the psychedelical experience he was having. Chemical
compounds severely influenced his spiritual conciousness. Who the
fuck is Craig he wondered. Images of a young man flooded his
mind. Why is he living with my sister? He flicked a switch and
found himself back in a distorted image of reality. The half-
state he was in did not permit him to totally understand what was
going on. He knew the fear in the eyes of his victims. People
that thought they could survive until they met him. His ways were
ungraspable. He would not permit himself to be captured by those
that lingered in the higher regions of our self-awareness. Some
foreign power, some group of terrorists. Fighting the world, he
always reasoned. 911 is a joke, they never were able to save the
ones he terminated. His fingernails were enough to severe any
bodily part from its bulk. Public Enemy he thought. Rebel without
a pause he was. The rhythm, the rebel. Don't believe the hype.
Knocked out he was, not able to move through the relational
phases of existence. Why wasn't he strong enough to resist the
temptations of this chemical temptation? The brothers in the
street are willing to work it out he pondered. Chuck D. was
raping his conciousness. How about embracing the radical thoughts
of the black panthers? Anyway, the colours slowly faded into a
pixel-pattern of absurdity. His mind slowly subjected to the more
or less ridiculous outbursts of sonical violence that erupted
from the mouths of the ST NEWS editorial crew. They were
dissolving into an orgy of crisps and Plantiac. Until Richard
Parts of the ceiling come down as the metamorphoses of ethanol
and various associated fluids strive to battle into the mind of
the mercenary annex hired gun.
Shit - What is happening?!
The world is doing silly things all around me (rotating,
mostly), and I feel kinda weird.
Which is to say the least of the current feeling of Mr.
Warchild and his alcohol-invoked spiritual fathers.
Texts are being yelled. Shit.
Saliva. Yngwie. Public Enemy. Violent yells and monkey-like
cries. Oh God fuck shit it.
Oh no. Cronos is getting slightly drunk, I am afraid.
An enormous black hope is forming into the journey through 'pump
up the volume'. Oh trash.
My shit. Radar. Plantiac. Bold? What am I?
Shit and shit (hhhgnnnnnhhhh.....)
Don't push me I want to SLEEP!
Gosh...will we have loadsa fun tomorrow when reading this
In other words: Cronos felt kinda betrayed when having been made
a fool of by the ST NEWS editorial staff.
So they hadn't stopped after all?
Well......who cared, anyway....?
I think I'm gonna be sick...
Here's the Ex-Pseudo-Editor 'gain. Stefan yeah!
Yeah, think about it. Hi Melanie! Warp it he thought. I hope the
ball gets lost. Yo anyway.....check this out. We do whatever we
do to survive. The neuromancer blues struck him. Who is William
Gibson? I ain't with this. The anti nigger machine. The colour of
magic fascinated him. We have to be able to get to town tomorrow.
R. wants to buy the new JMJ CD. Burn hollywood burn, I smell a
riot. We're concidering you for a part in our new production. How
do you feel about playing a controversial negro. Ladies and
gentlemen, today's feature presentation: Driving Miss Daisy.
What? I'm outta here. Mona Lisa overdrive so to speak. Let's slam
Why is my knee feeling wet? Maybe because I spilled some
Plantiac on it? So there is Plantiac impregnated into my jeans.
Groovy innit? Stupid AA Life with its 264 products. What the
hell? We shall overcome.
A stream of conciousness of the Editor ends as he decides to go
to sleep. You gotta understand. He glances up to the Get
Together and goes to bed. Maybe he'll dream about M.C. Yeah,
right about now.
Sore eyes he has, the one that caresses the keyboard. R. had
gone to bed already. We got soul. Plantiac is here but I shall
endeavour to resist the temptation of inhaling even more cc's of
this fluid. Come and get some. Jack rules away. 1:00 the clock
says why not now? Soul. Really, this is getting ridiculous. My
hands feel heavy. My head feels floaty. Poem time??? Yeah.
Come on, you're soap on a rope
What do you feel when you're on dope?
A floating feeling maybe?
Colours in your conciousness you see?
Fear of a black planet?
Don't you worry about a thing.
A song that I will not sing
My bed is calling me
This is it don't you see?
OK listeners, excuse us for this abortion, I don't want your
wife, stop acting like it's the end of your life.
Before I collapse, I will go to bed now.
Excuse us for the news.
I really want to stop now.
The next morning...
When Cronos opened his eyes, he really could not believe the
unmentionable amounts of photons that were seeking to zap his
He found something else a lot easier to believe: He had one of
his giga-pan-dis-dimensional relapses again. This had happened to
him for the first time when he killed his foster mum's cat in his
teens, and he had then sincerely wished it never again to happen.
That very same day, he had sworn some kind of holy oath never to
kill cats again.
As his eyes grew used to the exorbitant amount of light that
seemed to want to pierce his being, he saw that he was in a
As a matter of fact, the same one that he had been in the day
But the ST NEWS crew had gone.
After insulting him (Cronos seemed to remember some insult,
anyway), they had disappeared.
His revenge would be sweet.
This 'article' was sent by a couple of Dutch loonies. We thought
it nice to append it to our nonsense:
SINGING BANANAS ON THE NORTH POLE
A COMPLETE AND UTTERLY RIDICULOUS STORY
HOW TO WASTE YOUR TIME WITH A COMPUTER
GREATEST BULLSHIT EVER ENCOUNTERED
WHY AM I READING THIS STUFF ANYWAY ?
WHY NOT JUST GET ON WITH THE STORY ?
WHY ON EARTH DID THEY PUT THIS ARTICLE IN THIS ISSUE ?
INTRODUCING THE SPIRITS OF DOOM
Ok, let's get on with it.
(First of all let me warn you that we have the awful tendency of
horribly mutilating each other whenever we get angry or
This is LUCIFER from the SPIRITS OF DOOM (S.O.D.) on the
keyboard. That's Martijn for friends. So if you are also good at
talking a lot of spurious bullshit you can call me Martijn. (for
all my friends talk a lot of spurious bullshit!).
The S.O.D. contains the enormous amount of two members! (That's
right, TWO !!! ). Namely LUCIFER (Mad coder and generaly being a
weird fella!) and TS (This stands for THE SOUND,this is really
not a good name for him as he'll only do the graphix in any
future demo by S.O.D, but he appears to like it and wants to
stick to it for the rest of his entire life (He's kinda weird
(kinda ?) too you know.))
Ok, we promised you an introduction to - US - so hold on tight to
your chairs, get hold of lotsa alcohol because otherwise even Ivo
(the biggest asshole and sucker in the whole of deepspace)
wouldn't understand the humour in this article. (This Ivo is dumb
too, you know.)
Just to add some variation TS will write something because I feel
some sense crawling up from my toe to my brains and that doesn't
belong in here.
TS right here on the sleutelbord (that's some dutch for the
dutchies, sorry fellas no cheese for you today!). I think there's
a little problem rising right here cause I don't know anything
funny to write but I'll try it anyroad (you see, I'm getting
funnier allready). First of all I'll tell you a great joke:
Snowwhite is strolling down the forest road one day, when she
accidentally bumps into: PINOCCIO!!
She doesn't waste any time and grabs pinoccio by his legs and
drags him through the forest while producing wild screams of
delight. When she reaches a little meadow, she throws Pinoccio on
the ground and sits right on top of his nose yelling: "AND NOW
LIE, YOU LITTLE BASTARD, LIE!!". (Don't let your mother read this
article or we won't enjoy being a mortal on this planet for much
Right,(no left, ha ha ,get it?) was that funny or what???!!!
If you didn't like it then quit reading this article and do
something sensible or what the fuck your supposed to be doin'.
I think LUCIFER has got rid of his little bit of sense, so here
No ,he isn't, it's still TS typing happily away on the keys
(gotcha again, didn't I?).
Actually LUCIFER is sitting right next to me looking extremely
witty. He has also a very drunk look on his face (how the f.ck
did he get drunk? He just told me his father has already drunk
all the beer? Why don't I ask him?
TS - YO, Martijn, why are you looking drunk when you haven't even
touched a drop of alcohol, are you hiding something from me?
LUCIFER - (hick) No, I'm assss ssssober ass a judgge. I guess
Marije ssstill bothers my mind (even ze part with the pinguins).
TS - Who the bloody hell is Marije nou weer?!
LUCIFER - Oh, just another one of my fans. I met her on my
holiday in France. But this time the love came from two sides.
She is the most mind-boggling, adorable, sensual, beautiful,
gorgeous, best kissing, best looking, best fu... never mind,
lovely, greatest, and everything else girl ever to set foot on
our beloved mother earth.
(hey, where have I heard that before - TS)
TS - (I think he likes her...) Anyway, never mind about the
chick, let's get on with our zany-weird-strange-very-weird-mad-
LUCIFER - ..................
TS - hey, where has HE gone? Oh no! he has left me here in this
cold, small and smelly place to rott! what have I done to diserve
this? I swear I won't crush another AMIGA(yuk!) again! really!!
Martijn, where are you?!! Oh well, I suppose I'll get along fine
without him around asking stupid questions and making
Martijn niet doen!!! ouch! stop chewing my left leg, you filthy
rotten pig!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH...........(complete silence)
LUCIFER - Oh, oh, what have I done? By the way, he really tastes
horrible. I think his last shower was about three years ago. He
even tasted like roses. But that's no wonder when he works in a
greenhouse full of those little red, stinking, ugly things some
people like to buy and put in their living rooms. Boy, some
people really have a bad taste indeed!
Let's call 911. On second thought, let's not. I'll just clean him
up, put him in the fridge and forget all about him. Wait a
minute. I hear some moaning. That couldn't be... Yes, it is...no
it isn't, it is a bird, it is a plane, it's SUPERSOUND !!!
TS - RooooooaaaaaaaaaRRRRRRR,scrrrrreeeeeeeeech!!!!!!!, have no
fear, SUPERSOUND IS HERE!!! (WOW, what a way to introduce
yourself!). Dear reader, never mind the previous bullshit written
by me and Martijn, that was just some of our occasional weird
behaviour we happen to have once in a while.(especially after
watching Neighbours or Eastenders.) By the way, my real name is
Roland (which means HERO) and I have beautiful blond hair.(Also
never mind the stuff about the hair - LUCIFER)
LUCIFER - Gee, Roland really thinks he is great, but actually he
is only great on Sundays between 9 and 9.15 AM when you can see
singing bananas on the North pole.
Hey, Zwaagje (TS), do you know what's next on the programme?
TS - No, but how about doin' some greetings?
LUCIFER - Yeah, great idea, and you even made it up yourself !!!
(Pock, piff, ouch, sounds of flesh being torn apart etc.)
No, Roland, I was just kidding, good ol' chap, so stop biting my
ear right now !
The reason why we do the greetings here is because we want to
greet some people (a very common reason) and we haven't made our
first demo yet, so where else are we supposed to do our
Super-duper-mega-giga-gamma-greetings (of course) go to:
THE DIGITAL INSANITY CORPORATION (Hi Stef, see you at the
programmer party somewhere in December. I'm looking forward to
it.) and the rest of THE LOST BOYS.
(Right now Roland is sitting upside down in a chair (more hanging
actually) and he is producing noises I have first heard on the CD
of Napalm Death)(From Enslavement To Obliteration, that is.)
Normal greetings go to:
TEX, THE CAREBEARS, THE BYTE USER GROUP, MCA, THE REPLICANTS, GALTAN
SIX (NICE MEGA-DEMO, GUYS!), THE GUYS OF NAPALM DEATH (FOR MAKING
SUCH GREAT NOISE !), WILLEM (FOR BEING A NICE METALHEAD)
MARK EVERS (FOR SUPPLYING ROLAND'S SAMPLER)...
Very Much Fucking Greetings go to:
All virus programmers (except the programmers of the game), text
changers, vectorboy (for being very lazy and a complete asshole
and for cracking down very good movies like TOTAL RECALL and for
being VERY ugly), Jurriaan (for being ugly too), Harry and Rinus
(for not paying enough money for our bodily presence), my father
(for drinking all the beer)...
Also mega dicksucking dogbiting stinkin' fuck greetings to Mark
Evers for not sending my disks back! You filthy rotten swine!!!!!
Enough greetings for today, I sense it is raining right now and
Roland still has to cycle home (har, har).
biff......slam......ouch.......oh no, not again, aaaaarrrrgggllll.
We now interrupt this silly article for a brief announcement:
The police of heerhugowaard likes to have your attention for a
minute. On a certain rainy evening (we forgot the date) Martijn
Wiedijk was found in his computer room, brutally murdered with
the help of what seems to be the remains of his computer. If
anyone can give us any information concerning this terrible crime
then DON'T, I repeat DON'T send it to us because we don't give a
damn about it.....
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.