|
C
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 03:09
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 26, 2024 08:02 |
|
|
C
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 03:40
|
|
|
A
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 03:42
|
|
|
C I uh...got a feeling this digital ghost raptor lady is gonna try to steal our body.
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 03:51
|
|
|
C this is getting to "too good to be healthy" territory. Kore has been trying to not betray friends and loved ones lately, besides.
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 13:49
|
|
|
C Sorry! Business is business.
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 17:32
|
|
|
We'd probably get Cyber-Syphillis anyway. Holoraptorchick is hosed in the noggin. 
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 17:55
|
|
|
Blasphemaster posted:C C
|
|
#
?
Apr 13, 2017 23:32
|
|
|
Can't wait for cyber-fighting in the cyber-jungle.
|
|
#
?
Apr 14, 2017 14:31
|
|
|
Can't believe you people don't want to bone down with potentially hostile, manipulative AI.
|
|
#
?
Apr 14, 2017 15:25
|
|
|
Outrail posted:Can't believe you people don't want to bone down with potentially hostile, manipulative AI. Oh, she totally wants out, and I'm having trouble imagining alternative theories for her behavior. Which is fine as long as she doesn't try to hijack the wetware; no one deserves being made into a glorified Erb ship server.
|
|
#
?
Apr 14, 2017 16:09
|
|
|
dont be mean to me posted:Oh, she totally wants out, and I'm having trouble imagining alternative theories for her behavior. Yes but after 8 years of something awful CYOAs we can finally gently caress a robot. Priorities people.
|
|
#
?
Apr 14, 2017 21:14
|
|
|
Outrail posted:Yes but after 8 years of something awful CYOAs we can finally gently caress a robot. Priorities people. How can you have robots without electronics? Even the interfaces are organic!
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2017 20:31
|
|
|
As much as I hate to once more pull the robosex rug out from under Outrail, Regal is well aware that the Erb do not have robots. They have no AI of any kind (For Reasons?). It's cyborgs and brain-jars all the way down. Though there are probably plenty of eligible synthorgs back on the station, if that's your deal.   And yes, that does mean that when you were interacting with the Utility, you were talking to yourself.
|
|
#
?
Apr 16, 2017 21:58
|
|
|
So we would know that THIS IS loving ODD and such, yes? Possibly masturbatory?  BTW GOONS I'm still holding to my earlier Toxx. One of you designs a good banner and I'll fund the ad posting thinger.
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2017 02:52
|
|
|
Blasphemaster posted:THIS IS loving ODD The original implication was that Echo 4 had a physical presence on board, and was projecting a holographic image to you. It is your player's prerogative to imagine a weirder or more sinister reality! 
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2017 14:35
|
|
|
My creative juices are sorely lacking at the moment but I'd love to see a banner ad with poo poo like "Aliens! Burglary! Pictures! Outlaws of Thoon, an illustrated Choose Your Own Adventure." and an animated Reeg head cackling before going full Erb killbot.
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2017 19:23
|
|
|
"It's like shadowrun, but you're a dinosaur and everything is underwater!"
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2017 19:45
|
|
|
big bag of nacho cheese posted:As much as I hate to once more pull the robosex rug out from under Outrail, Regal is well aware that the Erb do not have robots. They have no AI of any kind (For Reasons?). It's cyborgs and brain-jars all the way down. Though there are probably plenty of eligible synthorgs back on the station, if that's your deal. Goddammit. One day. One day.
|
|
#
?
Apr 17, 2017 20:39
|
|
|
 Something just seems off about this whole thing...You feel an inexplicable sense of dread, and a sudden wave of anxiety surges inside you, freezing the warm flows of emotion swimming in your belly and turning them to jagged spars of ice. “No,” you mutter stiffly as you feel panic grip your heart, Echo's touch suddenly oppressive and unwelcome. “Stop,” you cry when she doesn't desist right away, pulling yourself free from her embrace. Echo pulls back, alarmed. “Regal,” she croons gently, “relax; it's alright.” “No,” you protest, “I can't. This is...What are you doing?” The foliage around you flickers slightly, briefly revealing the luminous mesh beneath. “Regal,” Echo replies, looking more concerned, “your synchro just dropped way down. You need to be calm, or we're going to lose the link.” “This isn't right,” your voice cracks. “What aren't you telling me?” “Regal,” Echo pleads, seemingly sincere, “if we lose link, you aren't going to be able to help anyone! Please, just let it go!” Your thoughts are in turmoil, but one idea bubbles to the surface of your roiling mind, and you seize it. “You're not syncing me to the ship's system,” you utter coldly, an icy spike in your belly, “you're jacking my cortex.” “No,” Echo whispers, “No, I--” “You're going to hollow me out and ride me out of here,” you accuse. As the veil of the simulation continues to slip, you reach out with your mind, feeling the massive block of heavily encrypted data currently sliding into your cortex. It's huge; big enough to hold a full map of personality engrams? You're not sure, but it's definitely big enough to put your extant neural pathways in jeopardy. “That's not what's happening,” Echo cries, almost tearfully, “just--” “What,” you snap. “Don't lie to me, I can feel you trying to overwrite me!” “They're command credentials.” You reach out, feeling for the interfaces connecting you to the Erb ship, fumbling for kill commands. “What was that,” you bark, and Echo cringes. “Command credentials,” she repeats, more loudly, composure in tatters. “We...the command structure is a mess. There are no Erb on board; they're dead or in another dimension or whatever it is they do, and the ship's warmind is in control.” “What--” “As far as the warmind knows,” Echo continues, sudden flow of words cutting off your questions, “the ship is still in combat, and without an Erb to stand us down, we're stuck there! You...you have the capacity and the cortical control, and...you're like me.” “Like you,” you interject, shaking your head, “what does that--” “It can't be a coincidence,” Echo carries on, “not after all this time. I can install you with the XO bit, and you can stand this ship down from alert! You can save your crew from the security units! And...” Her voice suddenly grows small. “And you can get me out of this tomb...” She stands silently, passion expended, flanks heaving. “Let me see my crew,” you demand. “If you want my help, let me see my crew.” Echo nods sadly, and two tears open in the fabric of the simulation beside you.  Peering into the living world from your simulation, you witness a tableau frozen in time. Ramadi and Crossbones flee down a corridor from a pack of vicious Raikk, their motions progressing at a nearly imperceptible rate. The flare of Crossbones's plasma projector hangs, crackling and stationary, and the energy blasts of the pursuing Raikk sizzle and warble in mid-air. You eye the molten circles dotting Crossbones's plating with dismay, and the way Ramadi holds one hand to her abdomen with alarm. As you look back to the pursuers, your blood runs cold at the sight of the alien weapon the Khaldean commander brings to bear: A neutron annihilator.  A bizarre combat engineer, flanked by a cloud of sinister servitors, advances on your other crewmates. Scuzzy's laser is frozen as it lances through one of the servitors, even as several others move to entrap your drone. Midas is suspended in mid-crawl, halfway out from under a slightly raised bulkhead. Kamula grasps the bulkhead's manual control with one hand, but you curse as you see his other hand, lancejet falling from fingers twisted in an unnatural configuration as the engineer reaches out toward the cyborg with what you can only assume to be an advanced attack program. You whip your head back to Echo Four, glaring. “You can't help them like you are,” Echo protests. “But once you finish the transfer, you can help everyone...” A. Finish the transfer, and trust your crew to be able to hold out in the meantime. B. Attempt to counter-hack the combat engineer afflicting Kamula while maintaining the transfer. There is a high risk of losing the transfer. C. Attempt to engage Crossbones's self-destruct to give Ramadi a chance to escape. There is a moderate risk of losing the transfer. D. Cut the connection to the ship so that you can both fully command your drones and intervene in person. E. Something else: _________________
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 18:00
|
|
|
I told you guys that random sexual encounters with unknown entities was a good idea. A
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 18:34
|
|
|
A and cash in We cant' do enough now. Lazaruise fucked around with this message at 14:09 on Apr 19, 2017 |
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 19:30
|
|
|
A
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 19:37
|
|
|
If we have one of those Hypercredits or whatever available, this seems like a time to cash it in
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 20:40
|
|
|
A Yup. We may lose a pal or two but gain full combat control of the war capabilities of a ship, if not the ship itself, made by a species to whom time is malleable. Or something. That is one hell of a salvage, and we could save our buddies, too. So let's do that. Also stick Echo in hardjack or something.
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 22:00
|
|
|
Green Intern posted:If we have one of those Hypercredits or whatever available, this seems like a time to cash it in You currently have one (1) Platinum Hyperducat available for use.
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 22:01
|
|
|
A and also Cash in
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 22:32
|
|
|
poo poo...it's time to be awesome. Amend vote to: A Show these hyper-advanced dudes from ages past what a protagonist with a pocket-deus-ex-machina can do. EVERYONE CHILL OUT, SO SAYS THE REEG.
|
|
#
?
Apr 18, 2017 23:03
|
|
|
A, Cash in
|
|
#
?
Apr 20, 2017 22:59
|
|
|
Welp, guess we're A spaceship now. also make it rain
|
|
#
?
Apr 21, 2017 01:40
|
|
|
You don’t know how long Ramadi, Kamula, and Midas have, even if you do manage to buy them extra time with your drones. You don’t even know if Vare, Tone, and Voulge are still alive, though you don’t dare dwell on that for the moment. The impulse to back out is a fleeting one, quickly banished to the paranoid archives of your back-brain as you relax into a centered mindspace and allow the data to come in. +̶̘̈́ͬ͑̽͜͢`̩̻̪̗̜̪̠̼̰̌͑̔͛̍͒`̧̢̘̱̀̉͌ͮ̏͌̋ͩͅ_̴͙͔͖̠͛̄ͣ̐ͅ_̡͒̄̾̿̽̌ͤ͏̶͇̯̟̮̗͙͙̤/̡̂̇͐͏̻̣̞̣̝̠̻̼/̟̳̆͌̈ͧ͝>̢͖̙̼͖̫̯̺̦ͥ̏̔]̦̤̱̦̮ͣ̂ͩ̅ͥ́̏{̴̸̶̮̣̰̳̦̰̮̦̅ͭ\̴̯͙̩͖̥̺̠ͫͧ\̴͖͎̹̦̋ͪͤ̉͘-̸̷̞̃͑̿̾̌̍͆_̸̠͔̦͚̑͛̐+̷̙̹͇͎̖͎̪͌ͭ̈́ͥ̌`̨̜͚̱̜̜̘̠̂̂ͫͯͦ͆́͟~̸̨̟ͨ̀̄͑̋ ̨͇̲̥̬̭̯̝̒̾ͪ̎ ̴̵̛͇͍̜̞̮͓͎̖̭̒̐̍̃ͭ̈́͛ ̡̱̥̠͍̭̞̙͍ͫ̐̈ͥ̔̾̚͠~̫̠̘͎̣̼̙̟̟ͬ͘͡(͑͛́̿̑̿̃͘͏̷͎͉̫*ͣ̎ͥ́͏͖̱͘*̑̆ͪ̋͏̜̺̳͇̗̮͍̲^̸̧͉̟͉̩̤̅̍ͦ̈ͭ͂ͨͥ͢#̛̹̬̣͇̃̌ͤ̑ͯ̈́ͅ&̽́҉͎̺̦̼̦̥̟@̡̟͔͙̗͉̣̯͐$ͦͨ͒͋͒҉͎̫̤̠^̯̖̂̄ͮ͟<̗̱͚̮͕͓͍̂͗/̫̤͔͔͍̙̜ͤͩͦͬ$̼̲̜̳̄ͯͭ̑̄̕>̡̢͈̹͈̙̻̍̉̃̑̾^͈ͥ̌̍̈͠&̳̦ͨ̍ͩ͢<̇̓͂̎ͭ̅҉͕̮̟|͔͓̋͂͂̈́̃͋|̢͓̹͖̪̙̙̆̏̇ͪ̓̕͡ͅ}̵͍̗͓̙̳̩̦̝̹̌ͧ̎ͮ%̖̥͈ͥͪͪ̒͛̇ͧ^̶̸̟͈̣͚̼̰̗̦ͣͪ͋ͤ̉̓̃̈́͝/̧̗͎̺̤̻ͬͤ̾͊̆͂̚͘|̢̩̮̯̟͍̞́͆ͣ̃͘)̗̼ͭ̽̅̚͞0̯̰̘̳̯̹͔̎̋̐͠͝<̼̦̯̫̙̥̙ͭ̎̉ͤͅ|̝͍͖̻̯͗́̉|̴̻̜̭͊ͨ̓̏̄̉ͤ̈͟[̨͖͉̼͙̘̾̈͋̂̄^̸̲̘͈̱̠̅ͬ̒̅̾̈̉̿ͩ*̶͖̠̻̥̻̺ͨͭ̏ͬͧ͒̓̅ͩ̀͢ͅ*̘͓̺̳̬̲̀́͗͛ͥ̐ͧ̄͌ͅ(͔̥̼̈́ͩͥ̅̾+̷͎̦̭̤͍͓̣̉͢ͅ_̷̡̰̳̟̫̠͙̼͇̌̑=̶͚̤̼̳͈̞͖̦ͦ̎̒!̛ͧͣͭ̐̌̊̈͐͏̴̪̗>̼̤̹͙̟̖̟̦ͣ̾̿̄ͦ̋̾ͤ/̡̧̝̲̤͚̥ͭ̏̿ͣ̐͆͗͝ͅ/̸̡̠̼̻̒͆ͣͮ͜\̷̵͚͂ͮ̔̇̉̏̃͢\̧̮̦͖̩̬̗̥̱̳ͥͨ̔ͯ̈ͨ́̚͢\̟͓͕̮̺̝͇ͭͥ͢ͅ|ͮ̆͛̈́̑ͣͣͩͮ͏͏̻͇̪̳̭̣͙{͗̔͂̽̓͏̶͈͖̘̯̻͙͖}͍̙̲̒̐͢{͖̳͍̤̫͉͐͜{̷̣̰̖̲̞̰͑̏ͫͪ|͖̖̘̪̝̫̯͎ͨ͋̔ͤ͡{̳͖ͣ͊̚/͎̭̗̣͓̼̤̃͛̓̊ͤ͂ͩ̈͟!̵̵͚̯͍̌̏̌͢ Your proprioception returns with unprecedented vengeance. You awaken screaming to an awareness far more vast than your own, more than half of which is simply barely-decipherable signals of pain. Raw, gasping agony burns members you don’t have, and you realize just how damaged this craft, this S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t̀͟, truly is. You have suffered more than your share of injuries in your short, eventful life, but now you bear wounds dealt by weapons the effects of which your mind cannot fully fathom. The loss of your arms was traumatic, but now you have some idea of the experience of your arms being shunted to another reality in which your species never evolved them. Even as you reel from the sudden shock, you struggle to balance the demands of a body several million times larger than your own, and the effort threatens to smash your mind to flinders. Allow the ship to draw too hard on your resources, and wind up a cortically-vaped shell, mindlessly running tactical simulations until your body rots. Shunt too much control to your secondary cortices, and wind up an aggressively hegemonizing drone swarm. Take on too great a load with your organic brain, and you’ll be lucky if you only have a massive stroke. Your history maintaining this balance has been heretofore…mixed. ̥̪͂̔̅̄̎̀͢͠͞ ̭͇̲͕͖̺̰͒̋̈ͧ͌̓ͪ͊ͤ ̟͍͚̱̅̓͐ ̨̰̥̝̼̦̜ͤͭͧ̒͛́ͪ͡ ̢̬̽̓̔̊ ͚̤͇͕͔̈̆̓ͬ͐ͨ̈́͡͞ ̷̡̨̝͍̪̘͎̜̦̥̌ͭ̈͌́̇ ̵ͫ̾͋͂̍͌͊҉̤̱͔ ͓̥͒̓ͨ̎ ̸̼͎͇͉͙͕̓̄͗͢ͅ ̛ͪͫ́̎ͪ̾ͦ̓҉̡̰̫ ̘̺̭͉̥͕̜̣̉ͮͮ̏̃̀ͅ ̞ͫ͒ ̻̠̹̦̹̲̬̖̍ͣ̐̂ͮ ̽̊̈́ͭ͏̠͍̦͙̲̲ ̤̺͓̻̘̦̮ͧ̂̾ͦ͊ͭ̇̒̚ ̵̷̨̠̺̰̲͉̭̱̣͐̌́ͣͦͅ ̴̨̥̝̫͊ͥ̚ ̺̗͔͓ͮ̏͗ͦ̿͊ͭ̚͠ ͎̻̖̜ͪ͑ͣ ͖͍̯͖̳̭̻̋͘ ͖͚̝̻̌ͤ ͚͉̞̗̙̳̘̠̐̓ͅ ̷̡͔̭̖̇̔̅͢ ͯ̇ͫ̾ͦͤ̀̃́͏̷̢̤̞ ̧̯̭͔̥̫̫̻̘̽ͫ͛̄́ͅ ̛̟̳͔̦̻͗̔̌̐̇͑͂͗ͧ͡ ͈̙̙̪ͪ̀͒̍̃͟ ̷͕̝͔̟͉̔͌͗ͮͬͥ͟ ̵̜̩̩̜̖̭̉̊͐̌̋̄̐ͭ̕ ̴̖ͦ̎ͥ̓ͨͧͧ͜ ̛̲̖̰͕̻͙̱̑ͦ̌͗ ̷͓̥̫͔̼̹̘̗̉͋̈́ͫ̈͑ͨͨ͝ ̱̼̪̦̩̬̫͖̌ͨ̿͆ ̙̯͉̜̫̙͉̟͆͐͝ ̼̺̫̮͂̒̐ͨ͗́̚ ͚͚̘̥͕ͮ͢͞ ̭͕̹̔ͭ̑͛̓̎ ̶̟̞͕̠̖͎̿̉̌̓̽͋͐ͧ ̵͔͚̫̩̙̹͎ͬͥ͛ͬ̾̚ͅ ̨̼̘͉͙̣̻̯̑ͩ̍͘ ̶̷̛̺̣͖̲͙̫͊ͬ̑ͥ͗̈̆̄ ̆̂͗̍ͦ҉̷̝̲͖̝͙̦ͅͅ ͔̼̲̼̐̅̈́͒̉́̅̔̾͘ ̺̗͚̤̲̳̝̇̋ͣ͌ͧ̕͟ ̼͈̮̻̂ ̢̜̦͎͍̤͛͌̈͐͞ ̛͉̬̐͒ͥ̀ ̷̨̟̝̜̩͍̓ͦ͜ ̴͑̄҉͉̫̺͕͇̪̙͉ ͇͕̙͖̂̀̎͒̎̍ͣ ̖̰͍͎͙̤̠̘̃̇͒ ͈̮̟͖͖̗͐̓͡ ̵̷͍̣̤͚͌̑͊ͥ̇ͬ̚͝ ͖̺͔ͫ̒ͤ̉͑̿̄̐̏͟ ̬̦̟̪̳̤͈̀͒ͭͤ̈ ̆̋͂̈́͏͇͘ ̛̘͇̤̯͎̙̞̩ͭ͊ͪ̃̃̀͢ ͮͫͮͬ҉̪̳̤̹͉ ̨̜̮̪̝͓̏͋͊̉ ̵̝̦͔͈͑̅̈ͦ͒̎ ̶̧͓̬͚̪ͭ͂̉͌ͭ͊̉͗̕ ̨̼̦̦͋̏̾̔ͭ ̧̩̬̯͍̪̊̒͒ͯ͟ ̷̢̥̙̌̋͆̓ ̭̫̠̥̙̯̏̑̉ͪ̽ͭ̓̓ ̴̡̛̼̬͉̹͚̣̹̜̉͐̅ ̣͈̗̩̱̆͂̒ͨͮ̃ͅ*ͨ͒ͧ̀͏̺̭͉\̛̗͈̫͎͇̒̾͠͝\͕̬̣͙̙̝͋̍͛ͦ̂͞ͅ|̸̤̫͉̍̾͡/̷̵̥͕̼͖̟̳̱͖̟͊̇ͫͭ/̪̩̯̖̔̋̋ͤͦ/̸̛̛̠̣ͥͮ͒̉|̖͔̦̳ͨ͆/̨͓̺͖̱ͫͭ̈̑ͦ͆͟͠\̖̫̣͔͓̜ͣ̾̓ͧͪ͊ͩ̇̕͝͞|͖̞̞̳̩̫̅͐̐́͝|̡̺̩͓̮̟̖̐ͯ̆̆̃ͮ/͇ͨ̊ͩͪ̑/̴̹̺̻͓͚͍̉̑̆ͥͯ͋̃ͅͅ|̛͉͚́|͛ͥ̂̑ͣ̇̑̋҉̬̳̼̠̙/̡̣͚̱̰͊͐ͩ̀̍̌̒̃̍̀\̵̖̗͕͕͓̣̱̃ͩͪͪͤ\̭̬͓̤̇ͯ͑́ͅ*̶̹̣̭̿̌͗  Platinum Hyperducat Redeemed! ]̢̗̞͕͎̺̹͈̞̓ͤ̎ͅ]̠͚̙̤̩̍̑̐́͢\̡̩̙̭͍ͣ̐̑͟\̸̪̬̻̺̞ͯ́͆̉̓ͯͤ̀|̛̹̦̣͕͎͉̋͆͜/̳͔͈͙̍̊̿̌̃̇͊͝/̩͚̗͓̟̞̬̤́͗͂̍͘͟-̨͇͕̗̦̼͙̠̏ͪͫ̾̊͒́̚-̳̊ͥ̑̈́̔̓̉_̤͚̺͂̾ͣ̓͛|̙̜̻̖̯̼̱̞͙͗ͬͭC̪̮̻̪̗̩͓̒̄o̝̪̼̯̱ͯ̑̂͂̎̆m̱͇̼ͧ̀̇ͯm͝a̸̮̓͌̊̈n̙̟͙͖̊ͧͬ̃ͨ̇d͖̜͒ ̰̜̂Ť̨̜̼̻̳̰̳̔̑ͥ͊͗̚rͫ̎ͯ̿̃̒̚a̤͖̱̬̭͈͙͒̃ͪ̍̎̔̌ṉ̳s̸ͦ̄̂f̟̼̖̘̗͊̀ͭͯͦ̾͘e̻̬̯̯̼ͥ̈́ͯ̓̓͆͐r͇͕ ̴̤̬ͫͭͧ͂ͭ̐c̗̦̭̈͛̽̓͆̏o͕͖̬̩͙̰ͅm͉͇̖̞̦͈̤̈́̏ͫ͜p̴̲ͧ̃͂ḻ̜̝̆̀e̜ͨ̌ț̹̮̝̇̈̍̚͜e͗ͨ̋͗̐.̷̉ͤ̊̊̈́̓̏ ̛̻͓̺̜͙̲́ͣ͆͒̃A̬̭̺͆̆̑̄͐͞w̞̟̍a̤̞̭ͯ̈̅̔͛̀i̶̫t̙̀̒ͭͨì̵̫̳n͔͌̽͑͑ͫg͖̱̜ͫ́ͬ ̘̞͇͌̎̅̓̇c̤̰̊ͫ̏ͧ͌̈́̚o̡͇̗̍ṃ̭͚m̦̰̯̰̞̮̠͌ͨͩͨ͞a̭̗̥̤̤͝n̡͈̖͚͍͐̿ͤ̊d̛̮̩̝͔͖̼̱.̓̓ͤ̋̑ͦͦ But somehow, you thread the needle. You feel the ship’s giga-spans of networked neural tissue like a glove around you (admittedly, a glove that is somewhat on fire), but you manage to remain distinct from the Executive bit that you mantle. Without delay, you reach out to the Warmind, the technopathic contact less like flexing a muscle and more like your fingers remembering how to tie a tricky knot, and order it to stand down from high alert. The Warmind, a crawling multitude confined to a singular memetic construct, acquiesces with a haste that seems almost grateful.  A͔̭̯̖̘ͬͬ͛̊̚c̈́ͮk̞̠̖̹͛̂̍ͥ͊̎ṋ̘̜̙̘͖͂͐͞o͗ͪͬͣͦ͏̝̙̯͖ẇ̩̠̝͚ͤ̍ͦ́̚l̨̳̻e̹̪͍ͫͬͨ́ͥ̾d̖̟͎͖̙͈̦g̵͎̅͛͐ͩͯ̎ẻͦd̰̫͓̣̬ͪ͢.̞͈̰͔̙͈̣ͭ͝, responds the command-bit of the fourth-obverse\counter-boarding|executor, and stands down without annihilating Ramadi’s molecular structure.  R̮̭̹̲̯̮̃ͧ̇̅͋ͬe͉͇̤̬̖͌͋͟c̯̖̩̅͆̓̊͒ͥ͊ͅe̯͔͇̯͠i̛̥̥͉̞̠͂̅̓̈́ͬ̎v̼̹̐̋̒̿ͦ̽ͯę̭̱̜̠̤͎ͬḍ̮̪͇͍̹̌.͔̰͖̬̆ͪͅ, third-contingency|combat-engineer responds, and returns Kamula’s control of his implants.  Ḁ̩̞͔͓̣̬́̅̿ḃ̴̫̿ͬ̑͂o̹̟̳̞̯̖͑ͤͪr̦̻̺̬̻ͩ̂̂͞t͔̖̖̗̅̑̀̂ͣ͡i̝͇̫̼̮͕̭ͩͫͪͩͫ́̆n͖ͩ͌̅g̲̤̲ͧ͋ ̛̪̳͌ͭ̅͑ͅR̪̬̉͂ͫ̐̽ę̬̭̣̪̜̩̤c̸̰̬̜͐̓̽ͦͧl̡̹̼̪͈̗̰̺ͭ͗ͤ̿a̜m̫̩̤ͤ̿ͧȃ̮͎͔t̰ͣ̿ͣ͟ī̚͏̣o̙͍ͭͧ̾͊͒̓n̳̳̤̭͎̈̓͋̅ͧ.͑ͬ̐̈ͭ̓͏̼̪, assures materiel-fabrication|executor, before either Fluke or her passengers can be disassembled into components to repair the S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t̀͟, . You allow yourself 3.2 processing cycles to breathe out a sigh of relief, then reassess the functions open to you, and the systems requiring your input. 1. Restoration of Integrity In its current state, this vessel is crippled. Worse, with the recent restoration of activity, the vessel’s overtaxed systems will fail entirely in short order, as exotic matter decays to a state permissible by local physical law, with potentially grave repercussions to the native ecosystem. As a survey vessel, S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t̀͟, is capable of affecting repairs via multiple methods, and the option to initiate (or to maximize your salvage attempts) is yours: A. Harvest. Materiel-fabrication|executor will gather resources from the immediate environment and synthesize necessary components to effect repair, with an emphasis on efficiency. This will minimize time and maximize success chances and ship safety, but will have a statistically-significant chance of causing moderate to severe damage to the planetary core and native ecosystems. B. Harvest (Non-Geocidal). As above, with an emphasis on non-destructive methods. Safe for the planet, but will take a very long time, and leave the vessel vulnerable to further interference. C. Autotomy. By cannibalizing the majority of the vessel, a smaller, less capable, but intact and functional child vessel could be fabricated. Safe and efficient, but will mean writing off roughly 94% of the physical salvage. D. Caulk and Float. Effect repairs only to the point that submarine transit is possible, and limp back to Thoon (or perhaps a safe harbor suggested by Fury Praxis or Vrade) to exploit it. This may be the easiest course, but will also create a tempting target for rival parties, as well as potentially severe political consequences. E. Mothball. Put everything back to sleep that you can, and prepare a plan to salvage as much as you safely can, as long as you safely can, without causing total system failure. F. Junk It. Strip the corpse for everything it's worth while you still have the chance, and let the Worms worry about the long-term ecological consequences. 2. Mission Status Should S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t be returned to function, standard protocol would to be to return the designated Erb cluster for debriefing and refit. The captain isn’t here, however, and you are not beholden to Erb authority. Whatever you choose, you will have time (dependent on repair method) to prepare for it. G. Finders, Keepers. This hulk isn’t going anywhere. (Most salvage options will default to this.) H. Send the ship home with a message from you. Perhaps the Erb will repay your service with a greater reward than mere salvage. I. Accompany the ship to the Erb. This is an opportunity of exceptional rarity and immeasurable potential gains, but may well be a one-way trip. J. Slot the mission…You have a spaceship now. Next stop, wherever you krumping well please. (Requires a functional vessel) 2.1 Coordinates to the Erb Cluster You are a businessaur…do you plan to sell the coordinates to the afore-mentioned cluster to the highest (or most politically advantageous) bidder? K. You bet your cloaca! L. No, you don’t want to kick over that particular scrab-midden. 3. Echo Four The Erb do not have AI of any kind, but a quick survey of the S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t̀͟’s stasis pods reveals a lack of any extant Troodontid bioforms. When pressed, Echo Four firmly asserts her lack of appreciation for being called a brain in a jar, but grudgingly admits to her physical form currently being limited to a tangle of neural fibers suspended in a conductive/nutrient matrix. M. Leave her be. Either you don’t trust her, or just find the whole thing too weird to countenance. N. Install her in Fluke. An Erb-style minder would certainly make the ship more efficient, and you could rig some holo-emitters to give her more presence. O. Install her in a drone. It would at least be a physical body, and you might be able to find her a more suitable one down the line. P. Integrate her into the cyberframe you’re constructing. With access to S̶áu͢͝-̵̧Ŗ̡r̡͟t̀͟’s systems, you are confident that you can fabricate the components you need to make your prototype a reality. It wouldn’t take much more effort to install her neural mesh into the unit, effectively gaining a free copilot. Q. Something else: __________________
|
|
#
?
Apr 24, 2017 16:51
|
|
|
1. C. This thing needs to not belong to anyone else on this world, and since reaching out to the Erb is both physically and politically infeasible, that falls to... it's complicated, but it seems to boil down to Echo Four with us as her trustee. Response to 2. awaiting outcome of 1. 2.1. L because they need to not belong to anyone else on this world either. 3. P is the closest we can do to right by Echo Four (that it's also the closest we can do to right by Outrail is a happy accident). dont be mean to me fucked around with this message at 20:34 on Apr 24, 2017 |
|
#
?
Apr 24, 2017 20:29
|
|
|
C. If we can replace this enormous unmanageable vessel with one 6% of the size, it would be the ideal Erbtech vessel to run with a skeleton crew. This is the kind of ship ducats can't buy, a vastly better reward than any other possible payout. I+Offer the rest of the team a chance to either depart or invite guests in case it's one-way. But even if it is one-way, Erbworld has to be better than Thoon. Some of the others might have reasons to stay, but we don't. L. Don't bring any trouble to our potential new home. P. We're going to need a pilot familiar with all of the ship's systems.
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 00:20
|
|
|
HBar posted:C. If we can replace this enormous unmanageable vessel with one 6% of the size, it would be the ideal Erbtech vessel to run with a skeleton crew. This is the kind of ship ducats can't buy, a vastly better reward than any other possible payout. this sounds good, as tempting as geocidally ravaging the surrounding environment for full restoration might be to my mildly megalomaniacal side
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 00:47
|
|
|
AJLO. This is clearly a moment of destiny for us. Do not kick destiny in the face. Instead: Rapidly repair and assume direct control of the insanely advanced starship. Once the teleporters are working, grab everyone on our good side from Thoon and give them the option of crewing this utterly massive, monstrously powerful vessel which is also their best shot at escaping the possibly dying planet. This would doubtless be a great upgrade and boon for Ramadi's people and Tone's family. Offer temporary berths in stasis to anyone who can't get passage off planet. Blow up Queen Croc Bitch's place on the way out. Use our status as HAVING DIRECT MENTAL CONTROL OF A HUGE WORKING ERB SHIP and all that entails to get some Khaldeans to act as marines/security. Become the Slaver-Hunting Lizard Queen of "insert ship name". E: also don't tell anyone we maybe killed the planet. Side effect of the ship waking up.
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 00:51
|
|
|
so tempted to change my vote...
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 01:47
|
|
|
Hexenritter posted:so tempted to change my vote... That's because you should. We can turn this thing into a mobile anti-oppression palace for all our dudes. We can use our Erb Tech to make as-good-as-nature habitation decks for each species. Plus the internal guilt trip narrative from throat punching the planet would be fantastic. It's like we opened up Pandora's Box and there was a free Death Star inside slaved to our mind.
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 02:23
|
|
|
Blasphemaster posted:That's because you should. We can turn this thing into a mobile anti-oppression palace for all our dudes. We can use our Erb Tech to make as-good-as-nature habitation decks for each species. Plus the internal guilt trip narrative from throat punching the planet would be fantastic. It's like we opened up Pandora's Box and there was a free Death Star inside slaved to our mind. Why only a drone for Echo Four though?
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 02:52
|
|
|
CJLO Let's kick this lifestyle into high gear.
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 05:30
|
|
|
|
| # ? Apr 26, 2024 08:02 |
|
|
Blasphemaster posted:AJLO. Sounds good to me but fuckit let's do AJLP, always good to have a co-pilot. I like the crewing from planet idea.
|
|
#
?
Apr 25, 2017 05:32
|
|
