What is the Expedition 33 about?
Imagine six humans, hurtling through space at 17,500 mph inside a glorified tin can, surviving on dehydrated soup and the existential dread of a Wi-Fi-less existence. That’s Expedition 33 in a nutshell. Officially, it’s the 33rd crew rotation to the International Space Station (ISS) from July to September 2012—but unofficially? It’s “Humans vs. Zero Gravity: The Ultimate Roommate Challenge.”
Meet the Cast of Cosmic Chaos
- Commander Suni Williams (the cool-headed leader who probably duct-taped herself to the treadmill during workouts)
- Yuri Malenchenko (the Russian cosmonaut whose poker face could survive a rogue asteroid)
- Aki Hoshide (the Japanese astronaut who literally fixed the ISS with a toothbrush—true story)
- Three other astronauts floating in as backup comedians
Their mission? Conducting 200+ science experiments, like growing alien-looking crystals and studying how space turns human bones into “spaghetti legs.” They also tested robot arms, because obviously, when you’re 250 miles above Earth, the first priority is teaching machines to fetch your space coffee. Priorities, people.
Survival Tips from Space
Expedition 33 wasn’t all glamorous spacewalks and Instagrammable Earth pics. Crew members had to master critical skills, including:
- Brushing teeth without swallowing the toothpaste (a choking hazard and a waste of minty freshness)
- Sleeping strapped to a wall while dreaming of gravity
- Explaining to tomatoes grown in space labs that “no, you’re not an asteroid”
And let’s not forget the pièce de résistance: dodging space debris like it’s a intergalactic game of dodgeball. Because nothing says “career highlight” like sidestepping satellite shrapnel at Mach 25. All in a day’s work for Team ISS.
Why is Expedition 33 cheap?
They’re Probably Using a Time Machine (Or a Calculator From 1999)
Expedition 33’s pricing feels like it was calculated by someone who still thinks a “byte” is something you do to a sandwich. Rumor has it their budget was finalized using Windows 95 Excel, which explains why they’re charging less than your average grocery delivery app. Bonus: their “rocket fuel” might just be recycled La Croix cans. Sparkling water thrusters are surprisingly cost-effective.
The Crew is 80% Interns (and One Very Confused Llama)
Why pay seasoned astronauts when you can recruit TikTok influencers and a mammal with excellent posture? Expedition 33’s crew roster includes:
- A part-time yoga instructor who thinks zero gravity is “just savasana with extra steps.”
- A guy named Steve who’s really good at Excel (see: 1999 reference above).
- A llama named Greg. (No one knows why. But he’s cute, and the internet loves him.)
They Cut Corners (Literally. Circles Are Expensive.)
Expedition 33 operates on a strict “no frills, no thrills, no gravity-proof napkins” policy. Why include a state-of-the-art airlock when a screen door from Home Depot does the trick? Meals are “astronaut-grade” (read: freeze-dried ketchup packets and a single lentil labeled “emergency protein”). Their motto: *“If it’s not bolted down, it’s optional.”*
They’re Secretly a Tax Write-Off for a Alien Conspiracy Podcast
Let’s be real—Expedition 33’s real mission is to fund ”The Truth Is Out There (And So Are Our Budget Cuts),” the #1 podcast debating whether Mars rovers are just Roomba spies. By offering “space travel” at suspiciously low rates, they’re funneling profits into buying more tinfoil hats and synthesizing moon-landing denial jingles. It’s not a scam; it’s *resourcefulness*. (Probably.)
Is Expedition 33 worth it?
The Pros (Besides Bragging Rights)
Let’s cut to the chase: Yes, but only if you’re cool with living in a floating ice cream headache for four months. Expedition 33 sends you to the International Space Station (ISS), where you’ll enjoy zero-gravity yoga, rehydrated spaghetti globs, and views of Earth so stunning they’ll make your Instagram followers weep into their avocado toast. You’ll also conduct *very important science*—like studying how mold grows in space (spoiler: aggressively) or how your bones dissolve slightly faster than your enthusiasm for treadmill straps.
The Cons (Spoiler: No Space Dragons)
But wait! Before you sell your couch to fund this adventure, consider:
- Sleeping upright: Like a vampire, but with more velcro.
- Bathrooms: Imagine a vacuum cleaner designed by a sadist.
- Social life: Your only neighbors are three humans and several billion bacteria. Bring a good book.
The Verdict: Are You Built Different?
Expedition 33 isn’t a vacation—it’s a $150 billion tin can hurtling through radiation at 17,500 mph. Worth it? If your idea of fun is doing sudoku while tethered to a giant tinfoil balloon, absolutely. For everyone else, there’s always VR headsets and pretending your laundry room is an airlock. Just remember: the bravest choice is admitting you’d miss gravity-assisted coffee.
Is Expedition 33 coming to PS5?
Rumors about Expedition 33 crawling onto PlayStation 5 have been circulating faster than a space raccoon hoarding cosmic glitter. But let’s be real: the only thing shinier than PS5’s SSD right now is the pile of wishful thinking fueling this hype. The game’s developers have been about as clear as a black hole’s privacy settings—leaving fans to dissect cryptic tweets, misinterpret sandwich emojis, and argue whether “33” is a reference to vinyl RPMs or the number of llamas required to code a PS5 port.
The Evidence (or Lack Thereof)
So far, we’ve got:
- A now-deleted Discord comment that said “PS5? 👀” followed by “BRB, my cat’s on fire.”
- A Reddit thread where someone claimed their uncle’s neighbor’s parakeet works at Sony and “squawked affirmatively.”
- A very intense TikTok slideshow set to a Yakety Sax remix.
But What If It Does?
Imagine: Expedition 33 on PS5, with haptics so intense your DualSense controller vibrates like a spider-legged robot arm trying to escape the UPSIDE-DOWN. Picture adaptive triggers that make every laser blast feel like you’re wrestling a over-caffeinated octopus. Sure, your coffee table might become collateral damage, but hey—immersion, right? Until Sony or the devs say otherwise, though, we’re all just floating in the speculative void, clutching our $70 “hypothetical pre-order” receipts.
In the meantime, maybe practice your “patient gamer” mantra. Or start a petition to replace the PS5’s power button with a magic 8-ball. “Ask again after the next Nintendo Direct.”
