The Purple Pulpo

“When Th' Purple Pulpo sets sail, even th' fish hold their breath.”
– Old fisherman’s tale

Th' year be 1623. An unusual ship, Th' Purple Pulpo, emerges from th' foggy sea, its sails dyed a brilliant purple that dazzles friend an' foe alike. Cunn'n merchants whisper about a legendary octopus figurehead carved from driftwood—some say it dances under moonlight t' ward off pesky sea ghosts (and suspicious tax collectors).

Myths an' Rumors

Though many debate its authenticity, rumor has it th' captain once successfully traded a shipload o' question'ble sea cucumbers fer a cargo o' prized purple velvet. Th' hue o' th' velvet supposedly matched th' exact shade o' th' boat—thus reinforc'n its flamboyant reputat'n.

Poss'ble Explanat'ns

  1. A wizard was on board, cast'n color illusions fer fun.
  2. Th' purple paint was accidentally created by mix'n octopus ink into th' ship’s pigment.
  3. Too much wine spilled on deck over many voyages. (Captain’s favorite theory.)

Unlikely Allies

It be said, one day a rival trad'n ship, th' Lady Kraken, tried t' outdo Th' Purple Pulpo by paint'n their masts hot pink. Th' clash at sea was more o' a fashion show than a naval battle – onlookers cheered fer hours, forgett'n they were late fer dinner.

Adventures

Read about some o' th' unbeliev'ble adventures o' Th' Purple Pulpo 'n th' Captain’s Log. Not'ble adventures include:

  • Operat'n Squid Spaghetti: A midnight run deliver'n spaghetti t' stranded islanders, guided only by th' glow'n luminescence o' algae (and embarrassed jellyfish who offered moral support).
  • Th' Great Spice Heist: Smuggled saffron an' paprika past rival pirate ships. Legend claims th' pirates were too busy sneez'n t' put up any fight.

A Final Toast

Raise yer mug o' (purple) punch t' Th' Purple Pulpo – whar' cargo, captain, an' cephalopod might just change th' hue o' history. May yer sails forever billow, yer hull remain bold, an' yer cargo be as colorful as yer legend!

Subsct'ns o' Purple Pulpo

T' chapterrr 1

The Ship

Overview

Up 'n th' Upper Decks, our lookout be either spott'n treasure or tak'n an unauthorized nap 'n th' Crow’s Nest, while th' helmsman tries t' convince everyone that yes, that spinn'n wheel actually does someth'n.

In Midst Ship, th' Captain’s busy add'n another gold tassel t' their hat collect'n, an' th' crew quarters be host'n th' weekly “Who Stole My Last Clean Sock” investigat'n.

Down 'n Cargo, well… let’s just say what th' health inspector doesn’t know won’t hurt them. Between th' mysteriously mov'n crates an' that barrel o' pickles that’s been ferment'n since th' last century, it’s quite an adventure.

Map

graph TD
    A[The Purple Pulpo] --> B1[Upper Decks]
    A --> B2[Midst Ship]
    A --> B3[Cargo]
    B1 --> C11[Crow's Nest]
    B1 --> C12[The Helm]
    B2 --> C21[Captain's Cabin]
    B2 --> C22[Crew Quarters]

    click B1 "upper" "View Upper Decks"
    click B2 "midst" "View Midst Ship"
    click B3 "cargo" "View Cargo"
    click C11 "upper/nest" "View Crow's Nest"
    click C12 "upper/helm" "View th' Helm"
    click C21 "midst/captain" "View th' Captain's Cabin"
    click C22 "midst/crew" "View th' Crew Quarters"

    style A fill:mediumpurple,stroke:rebeccapurple,stroke-width:4px
    style B1 fill:mediumvioletred,stroke:purple,stroke-width:4px
    style C11 fill:mediumvioletred,stroke:purple,stroke-width:4px
    style C12 fill:mediumvioletred,stroke:purple,stroke-width:4px
    style B2 fill:dodgerblue,stroke:royalblue,stroke-width:4px
    style C21 fill:dodgerblue,stroke:royalblue,stroke-width:4px
    style C22 fill:dodgerblue,stroke:royalblue,stroke-width:4px
    style B3 fill:darkturquoise,stroke:teal,stroke-width:4px

Subsct'ns o' The Ship

Upper Decks

Th' highest point o' our mighty vessel! Up here, th' crow’s nest scout shouts coordinates t' our helmsman below, though sometimes they’re just play'n an elaborate game o' maritime telephone. Th' crow’s nest offers th' best views 'n th' house (or ship), perfect fer spott'n incom'n weather, distant lands, or that seagull that keeps steal'n th' captain’s lunch.

Crow's Nest

Whar' our lookout pretends t' spot land while actually napp'n

Th' Helm

Home t' our steer'n wheel, which may or may not be connected t' anyth'n

Subsct'ns o' Upper Decks

Crow's Nest

Our dedicated lookout has reported some rather peculiar sight'ns from his lofty perch. Between his frequent “strategic rest periods” an' tea breaks, he’s sworn on his mother’s favorite teacup that he’s witnessed th' most extraordinary maritime phenomena ever documented.

Last week alone, he submitted a detailed report claim'n t' have spotted a mermaid rid'n a seahorse while solv'n a Rubik’s cube, an' a group o' dolphins wear'n top hats perform'n synchronized swimm'n routines t' classical music.

Recent not'ble sight'ns include:

  • A giant squid play'n chess wit' a whale shark
  • Fly'n fish practic'n fer their pilot’s license
  • A pirate ghost ship sell'n timeshares t' pass'n vessels
  • Penguins on vacat'n rid'n jet skis
  • A row'n boeat crewed entirely by sing'n sea cucumbers

The Helm

Our state-of-the-art navigat'n system relies heavily on th' ancient art o' read'n cloud shapes an' follow'n particularly motivated seagulls. Th' ship’s wheel, a magnificent piece o' mahogany that squeaks exactly like a dolphin’s laugh, be primarily used as an excellent coat hanger dur'n peaceful voyages.

Th' real steer'n happens through our patented “Serendipitous Navigat'n System™” – we simply convince th' ocean currents they’re flow'n 'n th' wrong direct'n through sophisticated reverse psychology. Our success rate o' reach'n intended destinat'ns be a proud 12%, though we’ve discovered fourteen previously unknown islands an' one mysterious float'n coffee shop 'n th' process.

Midst Ship

Th' heart o' shipboard shenanigans, whar' th' captain’s dignified stride from their cabin inevitably collides wit' sailors roll'n barrels across th' deck.

Coffee aromas from th' Captain’s cabin wage a constant battle wit' th' hearty snores echo'n from th' crew bunks. It’s that magical space whar' formal reports mysteriously acquire coffee r'ns, an' th' crew’s sea shanties somehow find their way through th' captain’s supposedly soundproof door.

A daily theater o' nautical life whar' rank meets reality, an' everyone pretends not t' notice th' first mate sleepwalk'n 'n their pajamas.

Captain's Cabin

A luxurious 4x4 room, home t' our beloved Captain Hugo, wit' a genuine fake window

Crew Quarters

Whar' dreams o' mutiny an' tales o' sea monsters be equally shared

Subsct'ns o' Midst Ship

Captain's Cabin

Welcome t' th' legendary 4x4 quarters o' Captain Hugo, whar' navigat'n charts do'ble as wallpaper an' yesterday’s coffee cup might contain tomorrow’s coordinates! Th' genuine fake window offers stunn'n views o' wherever th' captain thinks we be (he’s been known t' mistake th' Mediterranean fer th' Caribbean on more than one occasion).

Despite th' creative fil'n system (read: artistic piles), our beloved captain insists he knows exactly whar' everyth'n be – includ'n his lucky compass, which has been “temporarily misplaced” fer th' past three months. Th' room features state-of-the-art organizational solut'ns, such as “that chair wit' all th' stuff” an' “the corner whar' important th'ns go.”

Visitors be kindly requested t' not disturb th' delicate ecosystem o' nautical instruments, half-written logbooks, an' at least seven different types o' tea sets – all carefully arranged 'n what th' captain calls his “systematic randomness.”

Crew Quarters

Welcome to the most entertaining deck of our vessel, where every bunk tells a story and every footlocker holds at least three contraband items that technically violate maritime law. Our distinguished crew members have developed a complex social hierarchy based entirely on who can tell the tallest tale about encounters with legendary sea creatures. Current champion: Bosun McGee, who swears he taught a pod of narwhals to perform synchronized swimming routines.

The communal areas are a fascinating study in organized chaos. The mess hall doubles as a debate chamber where heated arguments about the best way to predict weather by reading tea leaves can last for days. The walls are decorated with “accurate” maps drawn by our navigator, complete with illustrations of sea serpents and mysterious islands that somehow move location between each voyage. Our ship’s cat, Admiral Whiskers, holds court from atop the highest shelf, judging everyone’s sea shanty performances with characteristic feline disdain.

Down in the sleeping quarters, you’ll find an impressive collection of lucky charms, ranging from traditional rabbit’s feet to allegedly enchanted ship’s biscuits that are now too petrified to eat. Each bunk is personalized with trinkets from a hundred ports, though no one can quite explain how we acquired the stuffed dodo bird that watches over the entrance. The night watch maintains a running tally of mysterious lights seen over the water, though there’s strong suspicion that half of these sightings coincide suspiciously with nights when the rum rations were doubled.

Cargo

Whar' organizat'n meets chaos an' inventory management be more o' a suggest'n than a rule. Our state-of-the-art cargo facilities be divided into three distinctly disorganized bays.

Th' daily operat'ns 'n our cargo bays resemble an interpretive dance o' logistics, whar' inventory lists be more like creative writ'n exercises. Our automated sort'n system, powered by quantum probability an' caffeinated algorithms, occasionally decides t' reorg'nize items based on their cosmic aura rather than traditional categories. This has led t' fascinat'n discoveries, like find'n out that rubber ducks an' miniature black holes share remarkably similar energy signatures.

Th' deck crew has developed their own unique navigat'n system through th' chaos, us'n a combinat'n o' intuit'n, lucky guesses, an' th' occasional guidance from our resident AI, which has developed a peculiar fondness fer stor'n items 'n patterns that resemble abstract art. Th' result'n arrangement has been praised by visit'n space artists as “a masterpiece o' organized entropy” an' “the most innovative storage solut'n since th' invent'n o' pocket dimensions.”

​
  • 3,721 rubber ducks 'n spacesuits
  • One very large tea cozy (planet-sized)
  • Collect'n o' anti-gravity hamster wheels
  • Emergency supply o' digital cookies
  • Quantum-entangled sock pairs
  • Library o' dehydrated books
  • Self-fold'n origami robots
  • Tank o' compressed rainbow matter
  • Zero-gravity bubble wrap (extra bouncy)
  • Time-travel'n toast machine
  • Collect'n o' miniature black holes (safely contained)
  • Spare parts fer th' ship’s interpretive dance module
T' chapterrr 2

Captain's Log

Captain Hugo report'n from th' quarterdeck o' th' magnificent Th' Purple Pulpo. Th' seas be fair, an' our hold be brimm'n wit' exotic cargo bound fer distant ports. Our seasoned crew stands ready fer another adventure across th' Seven Seas.

Operat'n Squid Spaghetti

Our midnight run involved top-secret pasta flour an' premium marinara crucial fer th' realm’s spiciest mission. Th' crew was amped!

Day 1

Launch Day

Day 2

At Sea

Day 3

Island Arrival

Subsct'ns o' Captain's Log

Day 1

Launch Day

Captain’s Log, 0120 hours

“No mission too saucy fer us!”
– Captain’s official decree

It seems we accidentally boarded a crate o' rubber chickens instead o' emergency food rat'ns, but th' crew be already brainstorm'n new dance routines wit' them. Meanwhile, our quartermaster replaced th' lifebuoys wit' giant doughnuts fer a “themed” departure—perfect fer dunk'n our morale into sugary bliss.

Status

  • Reason fer voyage: A midnight run t' deliver top-secret cargo (pasta flour an' extra marinara).
  • Crew status:
    • Eager t' set sail
    • Full o' energy (and possibly leftover breadsticks)

Early Observat'ns

Th' moonlit sky casts Th' Purple Pulpo 'n a mysterious glow. Rumor has it, our octopus figurehead twitched its wooden tentacles twice, a bloody omen fer our dar'n spaghetti mission. Some say those tentacles can sense hidden spice routes.

Stay tuned fer more updates from our float'n festival o' noodles an' nautical nonsense.

Day 2

At Sea

Captain’s Log, 0545 hours

“A little sea spray can’t break our spirit—nor our appetite!”
– Th' Chef, after a minor sauce-spill incident

Th' waves crash an' th' crew awakens t' th' salty sea breeze. Our beloved ship, Th' Purple Pulpo, plows forward, determined t' complete our “Operat'n Squid Spaghetti.”

Status

  • Weather: Slightly stormy wit' a touch o' dramatic sea mist
  • Crew Morale:
    1. Excitement level: High
    2. Hunger level: Astronomical
    3. Willingness t' s'n shanties: ∞

Culinary Update

Th' kitchen rattles wit' every wave, saucepans clang'n like a symphony o' disorganized percussion. Marinara overboard? Twice. But fear not, th' crew valiantly rescued th' float'n ladle, dubb'n it Sir Stir-a-Lot.

Stay tuned fer th' next thrill'n entry: How fresh noodles fare 'n gale-force winds… an' whether th' sauce can hold up against th' unstopp'ble appetite o' seafar'n sailors!

Day 3

Island Arrival

Captain’s Log, 1140 hours

“Ahoy, pasta-lovers! Our mission be finally a sauce-cess!”
– Th' Enthused Quartermaster

Th' sun blazes overhead, reveal'n an island coastline shaped like a question'ble noodle bowl — th' perfect destinat'n fer our midnight pasta cargo.

Status

  • Purple sails flutter 'n th' island breeze
  • Th' octopus figurehead be oddly shining—some claim th' wooden tentacles be still danc'n t' an unseen rhythm
  • Slight tang o' marinara lingers across th' entire deck

Incident 'n th' Crow’s Nest

Upon our arrival 'n th' harbor, th' lookout nearly toppled from his perch 'n a fit o' excitement. A mysterious figure on th' dock signaled wit' a lantern three times—followed by a deafen'n call o' a heron 'n flight.

Th' lookout swears th' bird cawed 'n perfect Morse code, as if warning us o' impend'n calamity. Moments later, a sudden gust toppled th' spyglass stand, send'n it clatter'n down t' th' quarterdeck, just as th' heron sped off wit' a triumphant whistle.

Mission Debrief'n
  • Crates o' sauce offloaded wit' care (and th' occasional accidental slosh)
  • Crowds o' locals, excited fer fresh spaghetti
  • Squid ink banner hoisted high t' announce “Operat'n Squid Spaghetti Complete”

About

Face it

This be an example ship fer th' Relearrrn theme o' th' Cap'n Hugo static ship generator.

It displays rrrambl'n about th' fictional ship Th' Purple Pulpo 'n English an' a crude Piratish accent. Don’t take it too serious.

Th' goal wit' this ship be t' showcase a minimal example wit' as less configurat'n as poss'ble. It be meant t' be a start'n point fer yer own website. Th' configurat'n files be documented t' help ye understand th' reason behind certain sett'ns.

Run it

Th' source code fer this website be contained 'n th' Relearrrn repository. Aft th' installat'n o' Cap'n Hugo ye can build th' ship locally from inside th' exampleSite directory wit'

hugo server

Then ye can access th' ship by navigat'n t' http://localhost:1313 'n yer browser.

For a detailed installat'n guide, see th' Relearrrn documentat'n.

Modify it

While minimal 'n configurat'n, this showcase contains an auto translat'n into th' Piratish language. This required some additional files an' directories, totally unnecessary fer a simple ship. Ye can delete them if ye use this ship as a start'n template. Namely these be:

  • content/pir/
  • i18n/
  • layouts/partials/shortcodes/piratify.html
  • layouts/partials/toc.html
  • layouts/shortcodes/piratify.html

Ye will also have t' add this t' th' hugo.toml t' deactivate th' translat'n:

​
disableLanguages = ['pir']

or remove all references t' th' Piratish language.