Whether the specific pecking order of the game I let them play today had anything to do with the fact that it blew up in my face after five minutes is a question that can be answered only in empirical terms.

Her old bicycke was clunking along the road

The farmhands stack the hay into cocks.

Of course, the BEMs had better be real sure the technology of their deadly probes is sufficient to deal with said technological life forms when they finally get there, because an unsuccessful attempt at planetcide is bound to get the victims upset -- and they might come looking for the perpetrators.