Watch Tripping the Rift
In addition to the series proper, Tripping the Rift has two versions of its pilot episode "Love and Darph," as well as a spin-off, made-for-television movie. The differences between the two pilots come down to dialogue and voice actresses for the character of Six). Each episode is only twenty minutes long, although the movie's 75 minute run time mostly comes from splicing footage from three show episodes, with a little bit of new content thrown in to connect those episodes.
- Starz
- 3 Seasons, 39 Episodes
- March 4, 2004
- Animation & Cartoons
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/10 - Cast: Stephen Root
Watch Full Episodes of Tripping the Rift
Tripping the Rift Full Episode Guide
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While the others are being scammed and brainwashed, Whip is out sowing his wild oats with a bunch of like-minded horny teenagers. Only Gus can pull Whip out of his self-induced state of bliss in order to help him bring the crew home.
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When Chode's libido fails to rise to the occasion, he tries various ways to correct the problem, including having sex with Six in public. Unfortunately, their escapades on the control panel accidentally cause the ship to fire lasers at a death star.
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Chode enters Bob and the crew in a space race called the 50 Million Kronig Flaming Colossus. Chode takes Bob to a chop shop for modifications that will give them an edge in the race, but the plan backfires when Bob gets too much work done.
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Chode's ex-girlfriend contacts him and informs him that he has a son. In an effort to be a good father, Chode takes custody of the boy and brings him aboard the ship. But an unexpected twist prompts Chode to return to his old ways.
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Chode is picked up for shoplifting, but Adam is only using him to get to Darph Bobo. To keep Chode safe, Adam puts him in the witness protection program and sends him to a faraway planet populated by horny housewives.
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Gus and a sexually frustrated Chode hit a strip club, where Chode is given a medallion that's supposedly a key to treasure. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew is stuck in a tractor beam, and the ship is running out of air.
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The crew is broke, but Six gets an email that she'll be receiving some major cash. Rather than help the crew, she decides to give it away to charity. The crew tries to butter her up, hoping to trick her into changing her mind.
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Darph Bobo's late grandfather, Chuckles, had one last wish: that his hated rival, Benito McBlob, give his eulogy. Now, Chode must convince his grandfather to deliver the farewell speech ... or lose out on a huge inheritance.
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In a parody of television's "24," Six is kidnapped by the Dark Clowns as part of an intricate plot to get Chode to assassinate Adam. The crew winds up on an interstellar craft infested with deadly snakes.
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Chode and the crew of the Jupiter 42 get a gig guarding a princess in the country of Slovenia. But when they fail to keep her royal highness out of harm's way, they must piece together her dismembered remains.
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The perpetually randy Chode gets Darph Bobo's daughter, Babette, pregnant. The girl's outraged mother, Bernice, sends a Terminator-like clownbot into the past to kill Chode before he has a chance to impregnate Babette.
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Captain's Log - Six is one, Haffa Dozen is her Mother: When you live life the way I do - out on the edge, stickin' it to the man ... no, strike that. "Stickin' it to the man" is more of a Gus thing. What I'm saying is, when you're a rugged renegade like me, sooner or later you're gonna wind up in a high-speed police chase. Personally, I don't even think twice anymore when I see the flashing lights in the rearview. But this time, the cops arrested Six and dumped her in jail for armed robbery. Apparently, security cameras showed her stealing dilithium crystals from a crapload of ships across the galaxy. I didn't know what pissed me off more: that Six hadn't shared the dough from her secret criminal escapades with me, or that some cop had cuffed my sex cyborg - that's my thing!
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Captain's Log, half-past dead and cruisin' on borrowed time...Having just pulled off one of my patented pranks against Darph Bobo, I was kicking back with some fast food when I suddenly choked on my burger. The next thing I knew, I was in the afterlife, drifting along a freaky white hallway with the taste of processed meat still in my throat. Then I spotted my horny ol' nemesis, The Devil, lounging around waiting for me. The Infernal Lord of Night whipped out his DVD collection and played me a sucky bonus feature about how great my crew's lives would have been if they'd never met me. Then, as he was about to dump me into Hell just for ruining a few dorky, pathetic lives, I felt my life returning. Someone back in the real world was giving me mouth-to-mouth!
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Captain's Log: Flyin' high again - and hoping I don't have to take a piss-test when those space-cops catch up to us....Proving just how jack-booted and thuggish the Confederation really is, Commander Adam's wife, Nancy, recently had me arrested like a cheap pimp just so I could do her a favor. Her hookwormy hubby had crash-landed on Vitalius IV, home of the galaxy's most infamous monsters. Nancy's big solution to this minor crisis was to dump an earwig in my ear that would eat my brain in 24 hours if she didn't remove it - and she was the only one who could. In other words, if I wanted to live, I had to rescue Adam. Convincing my crew to help me burned up an insultingly large chunk of my incredibly shrinking life-span, but we finally landed on Vitalius IV. There, the crew distracted the critters while I scanned for Commander Adam's life-signal.
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Captain's Log, five cards short of a full deck - With my high-school reunion coming up, I needed to look swankier than ever, so I got busy with my do-it-yourself liposuction kit. As the coolest kid in school, my former classmates had depended on me, right up until graduation, for every nanosecond of happiness, humor or hot backseat sex they had ever had. I wasn't going to betray that sacred trust now. By the time I stepped into the limopod with Six on my arm and T'Nuk crammed in the trunk, I was a lean, mean, spitballing machine once again. At the party, I was working my usual mojo when Darph Bobo pranced in, pretending he was a hipster evil mastermind instead of the cosmically dorky blob of nerd-flesh he'd been back in the day. People even pretended to be impressed until my first prank of the night landed him on his ass with a punch bowl on his head.
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Captain's Log, as thick as my left tentacle and twice as long...and Gus forgot to refill the damned toilet paper again. GUS...! Now that Whip has his learner's permit, I have to spend a crapload of time teaching him the difference between braking and speeding. Worse, during our latest lesson, some Gray freaks in a flying saucer cut us off, backed into us, and then had the balls to demand that I pay them damages! It was obviously a scam, so I grabbed the wheel and took off. They chased us, which didn't shock me (after all, I always hate it when my scam victims run away). I plunged the ship into a wormhole to ditch them, but they followed us through. Next thing we knew, we'd all crash-landed together in a place called Roswell, in the mind-blowingly lame year of 1947, on some backwater dirtball called Earth. The Jupiter 42 was banged up, but we were way luckier than our pals in the flying saucer. They'd crashed near a military base, and the local cavemen confiscated them and their ship.
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Captain's Log, the self-lighting kind that never freckin' works when you put it in the fireplace, even after you douse it in gasoline - It's always such a tragedy when my ass-bouncing with Six is interrupted by petty trivialities. This time, my grandpa Benito broke out of the Fun City Retirement Home with a gang of antique cronies, then waylaid us with some wackjob story about the staff at Fun City sucking his brainwaves out against his will. Obviously, I can't be blamed for thinking that was a load of horse crap.
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Captain's Log, cloggin' up the bowl as usual. As captain of a starship, being on-time is an important component of my professional image. That's why I was justifiably pissed off when a traffic jam made me miss a critical appointment at McHooter's with a client I'll call Mistress Shots O'Booze. As consolation, I stole some shwag from the frecked-up spaceship that caused the jam. Turned out I'd stolen ten thousand tubes of G-Y Jelly. For those of you who don't care what men do with other men behind closed doors, I'll just say it's an intimate masculine product.
