Yogstation/strings/cas_white.txt

Those motherfucking carp.
Having dates in the maintenance tunnels.
Space 'Nam.
Space lesbians.
Space NEETs.
Space Hitler.
Space Asshole.
Ragin' mages.
Very ragin' bullshit mages.
Tunnel clowns.
Corgi puppies!
A loose cannon detective.
Mime pin-ups.
That fukken disk.
G-g-g-ghosts!
A PDA shaped like a set of breasts.
Woody-chan.
Meaty ores.
Yet another explosion in Toxins.
The Captain thinking they're a badass.
Ahhhhhhperatives.
Mech bumper cars.
Purrbation.
Baymed.
Being in a cult.
Racially biased lawsets.
Abusing Law 2 to start a race war.
Harm, a small rural town in Germany.
Xeno fetishists.
Running naked through a plasma fire.
Gibtonite.
A backpack full of mousetraps.
The death squad.
Kitty ears.
An immovable rod.
Her smuggler's satchel.
Ian and Lisa making a shitton of puppies.
A Chief Engineer who can't set up the engine.
Being sucked out into space.
A whole bunch of spiders in a SWAT suit.
Getting robusted with a toolbox.
Officer Beepsky.
Lying to the AI about human harm.
The grey tide.
ASS BLAST USA.
The mechanics of plasmaman sex.
Lavaland.
Chainsaws for hands.
Photocopies of the entire crew's asses.
Venus human traps.
Clown's Tears.
Walking mushroom cockfights.
Improper comdom use.
Greentext.
Coating the whole station in blood.
Cock cultists.
Defusing a syndicate bomb with another bomb.
Going braindead mid-murder.
A petsplosion.
Meat spikes.
Lopping off the Captain's johnson and shooting it out a pneumatic cannon.
The secret monkey technique.
Putting the pAI's doorjack where it don't belong.
Chemical sprayers filled with lube.
Curators.
Spooky skeletons.
Replicating the Milgram experiment with an electropack.
Catgirls.
An escape pod cuddle puddle.
Code Delta.
Supermatter undergarments.
A permaban.
Stealing all the miners' ore.
Bluespace artillery.
Poly reading porn over the radio again.
Mining the shaft.
Grab intent.
Backdoor Xeno Babes.
Five hundred ice spiders.
Cablecuffs.
Hulk, TK and X-ray.
Paranoia.
Putting the boots to him, medium style.
ERP-seeking meteors.
Paperwork HoPs.
Rampant vending machines.
The prisoner transfer center.
Nations.
Using a supermatter shard as a grill.
Liquid gibs.
Birdboat Station.
Not rolling antag.
Clusterbangs.
Flashing.
Space vine tentacles.
Pizza delivery ops.
Inviting all the lizards onto the holodeck for a party.
A used corgi suit.
Saxing.
Carbon dioxide.
Actually playing Cards Against Spess.
Warm donk pockets.
Kissing your own cloned body.
MULEbot manslaughter.
Hiding in a locker like a little bitch.
Tabling.
Gyrating slimes.
A motherfucking sorcerer.
Ash storms.
Telescience.
Nuke ops buying nothing but soap.
Anatomically correct borgs.
The dixel.
Friendly neighborhood death squads.
Rage cages.
Lore that no one will read.
A robust mongoloid.
A subverted service borg.
An obscene amount of bike horns.
Space bear meat.
Erotic roleplay.
Chain-recalling the shuttle.
Mailing the clown to singularity containment.
A mime having a stroke.
A muthafuckin' Uzi.
Ian and the HoP.
Force-feeding prisoners other prisoners' gibs.
Assistants raiding the armory.
A monkey coup d'etat.
Brain cakes.
Suiciding with a fedora.
A MULEbot drag race.
Automatons.
Six max-cap bombs.
Forgetting you're a traitor.
Itching powder.
Some overpowered bullshit.
Griff.
Ash drakes.
A fascist captain.
FREE DRONE.
Memes.
Marrying a vuulek in the chapel.
Valid salad.
Heavy roleplay.
Never setting your goddamn suit sensors.
An MMI floating helplessly through space.
A tiny prick.
Immulsions.
100 potency bluespace bananas.
The crotchety IBM piece of shit you're supposed to call an AI.
An irritatingly chipper borg.
A vuulek clique that refuses to speak to non-vuulen.
Fat sprites.
The euphoria the HoS feels when he harmbatons an innocent civilian.
Trying to stab someone and hugging them instead.
Buttbots.
Murderboners.
An EXTREMELY thick Honkmother.
A disposal loop full of corpses.
Assistant-on-assistant violence.
The mystery of atmos.
PDA sexting.
A cult rune drawn with menstrual blood.
Magic missile spam.
Warden overflow.
A ghost-powered Ouija board.
A MILF AI.
Shapely lizard tails.
An unknown assistant with a gas mask, yellow gloves and toolbelt.
Exile implanting all the lizards.
Fluke ops.
Forcibly felinidizing the captain.
A double-bladed energy sword, noslips, thermals, ablative armor, adrenal implants and a healing virus.
Space Ebola.
Grammatically incorrect lizard names.
Porn ops.
A trial for once.
Trading your TC for memes.
Uranium tiles.
An extremely obese European man being chestbursted.
Horrific cloning accidents.
Finding the clown in maints, surrounded by blood.
Emagging.
Dead lizard storage.
Dermal armor.
IV dripping nutriment and mint.
Alternate uses for defibrillator paddles.
Breaking spacetime with thousands of bluespace tomatoes.
Licking the supermatter on a dare.
Reagent farts.
Doctor's Delight.
Plasmaman strippers.
A Quartermaster who WON'T STOP ordering guns.
Space lag.
Polishing the captain's laser rifle.
That one asshole nuke op.
A surprise visit from Nanotrasen's CEO.
The bleeding, dismembered, beautiful corpse of the clown.
A glass of ...what?
Teaching a silicon the Birds and the Bees.
Dropping the permabrig soap.
The king of the rumba beat.
Unnecessary surgery.
Farting in the air distro loop.
Krokodil addiction.
A H.O.N.K. mech.
Disabling a space carp.
Capcurity.
The Experimentor.
That goddamn fucking mime.
Actually taking a hostage instead of just murdering them.
Spacing the clown at shift start.
A rage suicide.
The Warden funneling fines into their own personal account.
Welderbombing.
Validhunting.
Nar'Sie making love to Lord Singulo.
Fun.
HONK!
Enough morphine to make the entire station comatose.
A defective comdom.
Cleanbot.
A beaker of dried space carp penis.
An Ian storm.
Nuking it from orbit.
My senpAI.
Harmbatonning.
A Nanotrasen D-Notice.
TALKING MIMES.
The lusty xenomorph maid.
Using assistants as human shields.
Sentient securitrons.
Piloting the station into the nearest sun.
Decorative C4.
Lizard rights.
A universal recorder endlessly reciting porn.
The suicide HoPline.
Cultism.
Unlabeled dog meat in a hamburger bun.
Medbay stutterwhores.
The scrubbers uncontrollably spewing meth.
The lawyer's job.
Emoting slowly drawing a gun, then slowly cocking the trigger, then slowly preparing to shoot...
NAR'SIE HAS RISEN.
Pierrot's Throat.
A clown bomb.
Space bees?
Driving the clown car full speed into the engine.
IC in OOC.
The best cookie.
The wizard with his staff inserted into his anus.
Roup.
Eating every single maint pill.
Dismemberment.
Begging the gods for free stuff.
Whining to the gods after getting robusted.
Committing sudoku.
A blood-soaked clown popping out of a morgue tray.
SS13's toxic community.
Wheelchair Ian.
An actually helpful assistant.
Mindbreaker toxin.
Legions of cyborg assholes.
Homicidal chefs.
Extended.
Grammar fascist gods.
Cortical borers.
A masochist in an ash storm.
Draconic.
Installing a hand holding module in a borg.
The Voice of God.
Overpowered stuns.
Unironically enjoying library smut.
Spiritual journeys with BZ.
Deep-fried body parts.
Suit sensor unit gas chambers.
Moonlighting.
DNA locking a mech then giving it to security.
The philosophical complications of Asimov.
A changeling monkeying itself mid-coitus.
Swarmers.
A fully-dressed CMO.
The hardworking engineer.
A salt overdose.
Mindswap.
Potassium in the toilet bowls.
Giving head to the heads.
A lizard wearing cat ears.
Precious clown gold.
Dabbing on a pile of corpses.
Tactical chairs.
The sweet, forbidden meat of the gondola.
Turning tricks for holocredits.
A captain that doesn't secure the disk.
A positive moodlet.
Hygiene.
The Oh Hi Mark shuttle.
The asteroid shuttle.
Razoring the wings off the moths.
Wiring the ethereals into the powernet. 
Well-aged miasma.