Treatment: In a Galaxy Not Far Enough Away
In a world where reality TV meets survival, "In a Galaxy Not Far Enough Away" delivers the ultimate mash-up of dystopian entertainment. Think Big Brother on steroids, with Housewives squabbling over crypto scams, and Survivor transformed into the Darwin Games, where contestants don't just compete—they gamble on each other’s survival. Each episode is a chaotic blend of The Island, Snitches Make Riches, and Fantasy Sports Espionage, where leaderboards dictate who earns a golden ticket to the last space cruise liner—the Arc. Imagine The Hunger Games meets The Bachelor, but with alt-reality twists and a laugh-out-loud satire that pokes fun at modern politics, social media trends, and fake philanthropy.
Elon Husk, Donald Dump, and Lady J Bird lead this wild escapade of survival-by-retweet, all under the watchful eye of ALT TV, where your next-door neighbor could be the star of Super Local: The Reality Show. With every betrayal, scandal, and crypto bet live-streamed for the masses, it’s not just about winning—it's about trending. Because in this world, the only thing more dangerous than the games is going viral for all the wrong reasons. Get ready for a dystopian roller coaster where survival is the greatest show on earth.
Genre: Comedy
Characters:
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Elon Husk (AKA Elon Musk, Elon Huckster)
- Occupations:
- World's largest battery salesman
- Broker-dealer for China Motors
- Currently running the largest crypto scam in history
- Occupations:
-
Donald Dump (AKA Donald Trump, Biff)
- Occupations:
- Atlantic City casino pimp and mob boss
- Nickname:
- Biff (a reference to Back to the Future, but with less class)
- Occupations:
-
Wood Alley (AKA Woody Allen)
- Occupations / Hobbies:
- Plays clarinet at the Ritz Carlton
- Meets with the French Connection, Mossad, and Obama administration to discuss Nazi hunting in 5-star hotels
- Sneaks kosher French Chicken Coeur-don Bleu (tofu bacon replacing ham)
- Enjoys dropping one-liners like, “May the Schwartz be with you,” while wishing people a Happy 4th of July
- Occupations / Hobbies:
-
Jacques
- Occupation:
- French intelligence operative, navigating between French Intelligence, Mossad, and the Obama administration
- Backstory:
- Related to the St. Laurent family and French royalty, Jacques enjoys making people, especially women, feel stupid
- Spends time ensuring that no “peasant” gains access to the family wealth through marriage
- Accomplishment: Received cuff-links from Obama
- Hobbies: Reinforcing eating disorders in women
- Occupation:
-
Lady J Bird (Covert for hire operative)
- Backstory:
- Member of America's most racist and white sorority, which ironically "fights racism"
- Learned the trick of getting free beer in exchange for “favors” (blowjobs) during the Bicycle Age, a blueprint she's applied to her entire life
- Aspires to win an award for a documentary but is a chronic liar
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| Blowjobs for beer. No glass ceiling here. |
In a Galaxy Not Far Enough Away
Prologue: The world has entered an era where reality, fantasy, and absurdity have merged in ways unimaginable—well, almost unimaginable. This twisted universe sees the likes of Elon Musk, Donald Trump, and Woody Allen rubbing elbows with corrupt governments, zombified crypto enthusiasts, the rise of Snowpiercer-esque survival games, and XBox-fueled Darwin Games.
Act I: The Fake Peek-Oil Crisis & Merged Apocalypse
A fake peak-oil crisis sends the world spiraling into chaos. New solar companies pop up like whack-a-moles in a never-ending Twitch stream. The Department of Energy (DOE) has partnered with NOAA, Darwin’s spirit (resurrected for comic relief), and XBox-Nintendo to craft a master plan involving... you guessed it, Adderall-induced heatwaves! If you thought the Ice Age was bad, just wait until you experience brain-freeze so debilitating that even taking a trip on the train from the movie Snowpiercer looks like the dream vacation you’ve been waiting for. Imagine, taking a summer trip that leaves you frostbitten and broken—paradise!
Act II: The Rise of the Twitch-Skin Pickers
As the global temperature rises along with the stock portfolios of sunscreen producers, the true champions of this brave new world emerge: Twitch infesters. Inspired by heat-induced Adderall binges, a new species of gamer arises—twitch-skinned warriors who constantly refresh their screens, waiting for their next dopamine hit. With their skin-picking habits only rivaled by their ability to crush enemies online, NOAA teams up with the Chan Zuckerberg Initiative (CZI) to form a human-cell cosmology in an effort to save the stock market of human resource capital. They face off against the titans of Wall Street who have now placed bets on humanity itself through fantasy sports leagues spanning from Malta to Atlantic City.
Act III: Elon Husk’s Mars Plans & Darwin Games Gone Wild
Meanwhile, Elon Husk (don’t call him Musk, his alter-ego is far more sinister) is assembling barn silos to fake his next rocket launch to Mars. In this strange dystopia, “going to Mars” means bio-regionalizing anyone who still believes America belongs in the Stone Ages. After all, why send humanity to another planet when you can just silo them off into their own little caves and sell tickets to the Darwin Games as entertainment? Yes, in the Darwin Games, only the fittest survive—but not by running marathons or foraging for berries. No, these contestants place bets on each other's ability to survive in a society governed by fantasy sports and sports-betting overlords, turning the entire economy into a mix of "Survivor" and "The Hunger Games" where your retirement plan is based on how good your Fantasy Football picks are.
Act IV: The Venereal Spread of Darwin Games Government
From Russia to Atlantic City, humanity's newest form of government isn’t democracy or socialism, it's Fantasy League Darwinism. Forget voting, now you place bets on leaders' athletic prowess or maybe their ability to survive a Mad Max-style car chase. As Darwin Games grows like a venereal disease that won’t go away, education systems crumble. Kids no longer learn math or science—they're taught how to place strategic bets, ensuring that the future workforce knows not how to engineer or innovate, but how to win fantasy leagues and grow crypto farms.
Epilogue: A World Without Hope (But With a Lot of Laughs)
As the comedy of errors unfolds, the world slowly starts to realize that there’s no way out, except through satire and mockery. Because sometimes, the best defense against the absurdity of the world is to laugh at it—just ask Elon Huckster, Donald Dump, and Wood Alley, who spend their days finding new ways to make even the end of the world seem like a punchline.
In this dystopian satire, hope isn’t on the horizon, but a good laugh sure is.
In a Galaxy Not Far Enough Away: The Leaderboard of Absurdity
Act V: The Rise of Spy-Craft Reality TV & Fantasy Sports Espionage
As society crumbles, the world's most absurd minds—Elon Husk, Donald Dump, and Wood Alley—find themselves entangled in a bizarre web of spy-craft and fantasy sports espionage, all aired as a reality TV extravaganza. In this show, each character pretends to champion a noble cause—climate action, political reform, interplanetary colonization—but they’re really just fighting for a seat on the Arc, the last space cruise liner built to save the elite. But to board the Arc, it’s all about the leaderboard rankings—tracked by their success in an unholy hybrid of spy games and fantasy football.
Elon Husk plays it cool, promising to "save" the world by launching everyone into orbit on a rusty rocket ship. He “leaks” his plans to a crypto-dealer asset in a covert operation disguised as a live-streamed Twitch tournament. Husk, in classic form, is only in it for the points on the survival leaderboard, where assets (like his rocket silos) are evaluated not on utility, but on how many social media shares they rack up.
Meanwhile, Donald Dump takes a different approach. His plan? Turn every casino into a covert ops headquarters where the real game is controlling who wins at the Fantasy Survival Darwin Games. Each “player” is an operative in a complex game of posturing, ensuring that Dump's mob boss connections stay on top—until he can weasel his way into a seat on the Arc, with the highest possible score based on Twitter retweets, not actual merit.
And then there’s Wood Alley—who’s far less concerned with survival and more with getting someone to finally sit through his entire monologue about Nazi-hunting in 5-star hotels. But like his co-conspirators, Alley knows the leaderboard is all that matters, so he positions himself as the man with the secret knowledge of who holds the last ticket to the Arc, leaving everyone else scrambling to uncover his absurd trail of clues.
Act VI: Fantasy Sports Meets Spy-Craft: The Real Game of Thrones
The Darwin Games—a weird mashup of **fantasy sports, post-apocalyptic survival, and spy-craft—**has spiraled out of control. The rules? None. The stakes? Control over the Arc and the ultimate bragging rights: survival. Elon Husk tries to sabotage other players by planting crypto-mining viruses in their fantasy football accounts, while Donald Dump rigs the game in favor of anyone willing to pay off his New Atlantic City casino henchmen. Players win points by “taking down” other teams through fake Twitter beefs, creating deep fake videos, and orchestrating embarrassing scandals involving Twitch streamers.
Each player’s ultimate goal? Stay on the top of the leaderboard, where the reward is a golden ticket to the Arc, the last bastion of elite survival. As the leaderboards update in real-time, viewers are treated to operatives pretending to care about causes like world peace and climate action, while really just trying to accumulate likes, retweets, and trending status. The viewers? They can’t get enough, because nothing says survival like fake philanthropy disguised as a reality show.
Wood Alley, always lurking in the background, uses his espionage skills to infiltrate every faction—but only so he can gain enough insider dirt to stage a final, dramatic speech that no one ever lets him finish. For Wood, winning isn’t even about survival; it’s about having the last word.
Act VII: The Fall of Reality (or What’s Left of It)
As the leaderboard war intensifies, reality itself begins to unravel. Husk starts to believe his own Mars silo rocket lies, and Donald Dump insists that fantasy football stats are more important than actual policy decisions. The Darwin Games spiral out of control, with everyone from Twitch gamers to professional athletes forced to bet on their own survival.
As the Arc readies for launch, the absurdity reaches its peak—Elon Husk and Donald Dump declare a “truce” long enough to attempt one final covert operation: hacking the system to place themselves at the top of the leaderboard, thereby securing the best seats on the Arc. But Wood Alley sees through their ploy. He launches his ultimate plan: a Spy-Craft Fantasy Sports Musical, where each character sings about their real motivations—complete with Broadway-style choreography and a subplot involving his clarinet obsession.
Act VIII: Who Will Board the Arc?
The final act comes down to a vote—not from the elites or the players, but from the audience. In the end, the leaderboard wasn’t about points or social capital; it was about entertaining the masses. And as Wood Alley finally begins to narrate the finale, the audience realizes that they hold the real power: they can decide who boards the Arc, and who’s left behind on a planet that’s now little more than a massive reality TV set.
The vote comes in, and the results? A tie—because nothing in this absurd universe ever reaches a satisfying conclusion. The show must go on, forever.
Epilogue: Welcome to the New World
As the Arc sails into space, the remaining players are forced into a new version of the Darwin Games, only this time, the stakes are higher: survival itself. But no one’s actually playing to survive; they’re all too busy crafting their next viral tweet or streaming their attempts at espionage. After all, the leaderboard is all that matters in the end.
Snitches Make Riches: Society Reverts to Hungry Shark and Dragon Hatchery Nostalgia
Next. Society reverts to their formative years of playing Hungry Shark and breeding and hatching dragons. Quantum networks and entanglement in bio-molecular BCI threaten to make the Sims too real for comfort. MTV and VH1 have their revenge big brother style as everyone watches with horror while "Snitches Make Riches" becomes the new motto of super local ALT TV and entertainment with a sports betting crypto twist. Donald Trump trys to hang onto his ringmaster title in a WWE WWF presidential bid that makes Mike Judge wish he had never written Idiocracy. The US tries to keep citizens from figuring out that the UK still runs the world through AI and cybernetics. The rest of the world looks on at America in disbelief that things could get this crazy.
Society Reverts to Hungry Shark and Dragon Hatchery Nostalgia
As society begins its slow descent into absurdity, the collective consciousness reverts to simpler times—when Hungry Shark mobile games and dragon-breeding apps consumed the attention of a formative generation. These nostalgic callbacks become more than just hobbies; they transform into a way of life. Quantum networks and bio-molecular Brain-Computer Interfaces (BCIs) make it so that living within the framework of a simulated reality feels as real as actual existence. The line between The Sims and life blurs, and soon, MTV and VH1, tired of being outshone, launch "Snitches Make Riches"—a reality show hybrid that combines neighborhood gossip, sports betting, and a dark crypto-economy twist.
Everyone's now a contestant, willing to sell out their friends for a crypto payday. Ratings skyrocket. Big Brother's ever-present surveillance network, now turbocharged by quantum computing, broadcasts every betrayal, making it impossible to hide from public scorn—or riches. What was once trivial TV voyeurism has now become a survival game, where social alliances, bets, and betrayals play out in real-time, affecting not just reputations but entire economies.
Donald Trump's WWE Bid: The Ultimate Idiocracy
In an attempt to reclaim his role as the ultimate reality star, Donald Trump throws his hat into the WWE Presidential Bid. His platform? Outrage, spectacle, and full-on WWE-style showdowns, complete with fake rivalries and suplexes. It's political theater at its worst—and its most popular. As Trump steps into the ring, his bombastic persona becomes less about leadership and more about staging a circus where reality and kayfabe (scripted wrestling drama) blur. Mike Judge, creator of Idiocracy, watches in horror as his satirical vision becomes all too real. Who could have predicted a presidential debate could end with a pile driver?
The US tries desperately to maintain an air of civility, but even the most loyal citizens can’t ignore what’s becoming abundantly clear: The UK, quietly operating behind the scenes with its powerful AI and cybernetic systems, is still running the global show. American politics have become a distraction, a performative spectacle that keeps the world entertained while the real power shifts quietly across the Atlantic. The rest of the world watches in disbelief, baffled by how a once-great nation has become the punchline in its own reality show.
In this strange new world, the only thing that matters is staying high on the leaderboard, winning fantasy crypto sports bets, and playing the game—not to win—but to survive the latest entanglement of simulated reality and quantum manipulation.
Act I: The Quantum Shark Games Begin
As the global economy tanks, society retreats into its virtual cocoon, finding solace in the classic game of Hungry Shark. The tech-savvy elite no longer hide their disdain for reality, as they spend hours feeding pixelated sharks in what seems like a training exercise for a future where actual shark-infested waters may become their only escape from mounting social debt.
Meanwhile, a subculture of dragon breeders emerges, where genetic modification meets fantasy sports. People aren’t just breeding dragons in apps anymore; they’re toying with actual bio-engineered creatures. Welcome to the Dragon Economy, where currency isn't in dollars, but fire-breathing stock portfolios with the potential to literally burn down the competition.
Elon Musk, or as he's come to be known in the virtual arena, Elon "Husk", has once again reinvented himself as the kingpin of these augmented reality Dragon Markets, delivering cryptic tweets about interplanetary colonization while secretly hoarding bio-engineered wyverns to trade on a black market accessible only through Neuralink. “Going to Mars” was never really about space travel; it’s about building the ultimate fantasy sports roster of dragon overlords.
Act II: Big Brother’s Revenge – Alt Reality TV’s Last Stand
Across the globe, MTV and VH1 make their triumphant return, but not in the way anyone expected. Forget music, forget countdowns. This is Big Brother meets the Casino, with betting pools predicting who will snitch on whom. The new motto? "Snitches Make Riches." Citizens gamble on everything from crypto-crashes to betrayals in the quantum-verse, all live-streamed for a twisted populace that can't get enough of the social Darwinism reality show.
Enter Donald "Biff" Trump, strutting onto the stage in a bedazzled wrestling belt emblazoned with the title “Most Likely to Suplex Democracy”. Trump’s latest ploy, his bid for the WWE WWF presidency, is no longer about rallying the people—it's about pay-per-view ratings. The world watches in horror as each debate devolves into clotheslines and body slams, leaving Mike Judge in disbelief as his Idiocracy comes to life. Judge, now a permanent guest commentator, doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he utters the timeless line: “I didn’t mean for it to be this literal.”
Act III: Quantum Entanglement or Just a Really Bad WiFi Connection?
As the fantasy crypto economy thrives, so too does the biological entanglement of the Sims Generation. People are no longer content with running simulations; they want their digital avatars to be inextricably linked to their actual bodies. This leads to quantum networks getting tangled—quite literally—around the genetic code of humans. Bio-molecular Brain-Computer Interfaces have made it so you’re not just playing The Sims; you are the Sim, and every action in the game directly affects your actual body.
It’s all fun and games until some kid in Malta places a bet on you burning your toast, and suddenly you're seizing uncontrollably in real life because your Sim decided to set fire to the kitchen. MTV and VH1, being the ultimate agents of chaos, broadcast this as Snitch Fest 3000, where viewers bet on how long it will take for someone to turn in their neighbor for burning down their virtual home.
The UK, still secretly running the world, lets the US spiral into madness while deploying their AI-run propaganda machine to convince the rest of the world that America’s presidential candidates will soon be replaced by TikTok influencers in a dystopian gladiatorial-style contest. But no one cares—everyone is glued to ALT TV as the slogan “Survive the Entanglement” becomes a grim reminder of how quantum physics has turned even breakfast into a high-stakes reality TV event.
Act IV: The Ark Lottery – Only Winners Get a Seat
Behind the scenes of this global circus, the real game is the Arc Lottery—a chance to secure a ticket to survival in the impending collapse. Each character—whether it’s Elon “Husk,” Donald “Biff,” Woody Allen, or even Jacques the French jackass—isn’t really concerned about the human condition. They’re jockeying for Arc seats like VIP tickets to the apocalypse. The leaderboard is all that matters now.
Lady J Bird, known for her sorority-level shenanigans, continues her saga of blowjobs-for-beer transactions, believing that every connection gets her closer to a golden ticket on the Ark. Her documentaries, which range from exposés on sorority racism to exclusive interviews with Mossad in the Ritz Carlton, are little more than vanity projects—part of her carefully curated Arc application portfolio.
Donald “Biff” Trump, however, knows there’s only one way to survive the coming storm: he must become the ringmaster of the apocalypse, combining his WWF presidential bid with the Ark’s final reality show. Who will make it onboard? It all depends on who can entertain the masses enough to secure their votes, or at least enough crypto-cash to pay off the gatekeepers.
Act V: Return to the Stone Age, Sponsored by Fantasy Leagues
As the world teeters on the brink, the Darwin Games, driven by fantasy sports betting and bio-regionalized colonies, become the new form of government and education. Forget schools and diplomacy—winners of these absurd games gain territory, food, and resources. Losers, well, they get eaten by actual dragons or trapped forever in a quantum reality where every bet they lose comes with real-world consequences.
In this dystopian game, Elon Musk’s Mars plan is finally revealed. It's not about space—it’s a euphemism for segregating the population into “Martians” (those worth saving) and “Earthlings” (those destined to become dragon food). And thus, the final act of absurd spy-craft reveals itself: a WWE reality show, where rich and powerful operatives stage their most ridiculous escapades while pretending to care about saving humanity.
In the end, it's not about who saves the world—it's about who can get the most likes, the most bets, and the highest place on the leaderboard before the simulation ends and they’re left wondering if it was all a game after all.
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