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Feb 18, 2018 06:20
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Feb 18, 2018 06:28
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Feb 18, 2018 07:02
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None of us have anything better to do on a Saturday night?
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Feb 18, 2018 07:09
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CourValant posted:None of us have anything better to do on a Saturday night? Well some of us would like to read something BUT
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Feb 18, 2018 08:30
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Hexenritter posted:Nah, I love the spergy in universe stuff. I almost wrote an orientation guide for new Athenian Technocracy subjects at one point
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Feb 18, 2018 08:49
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Feb 18, 2018 13:19
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 so, uh, I guess that means you guys want me to write more huh
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Feb 18, 2018 18:43
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Hexenritter posted:
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Feb 18, 2018 19:04
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I- I'm sorry. I don't know how to tell you this, but...
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Feb 18, 2018 19:09
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Feb 18, 2018 20:01
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 What are we doing now?
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Feb 18, 2018 21:15
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trying to guilt me into writing that guide
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Feb 18, 2018 21:33
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Hexenritter posted:trying to guilt me into writing that guide If you voted to kill Fabs and then go back in time to kill Oneoh then you wouldn't need to write it.
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Feb 18, 2018 21:38
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The next update should be done entirely in SA smilies.
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Feb 18, 2018 21:49
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Hexenritter posted:trying to guilt me into writing that guide I'd never do that! I'm trying to guilt you into writing more in general
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Feb 18, 2018 21:53
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Blasphemaster posted:The next update should be done entirely in SA smilies.     What do you do?
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Feb 18, 2018 22:02
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Loel posted:
      
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Feb 18, 2018 22:11
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Feb 18, 2018 22:14
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Karia posted:I'd never do that! I'm trying to guilt you into writing more in general Well that's alright then. And I'd like to. I've just been trying to mull some scenes or scene stems over in my head in the off hours while taking care of the missus. Just having a hell of a time trying to come up with engaging content. I mean, I'm definitely down with taking requests if there are bits from any of my exhaustive character POVs people want to see. We don't do smut though and the discord doesn't have an NSFW channel any more so no, outside of comic relief we won't be seeing Blackfinger's tentacle todger.
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Feb 18, 2018 22:23
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Hexenritter posted:We don't do smut though and the discord doesn't have an NSFW channel any more so no, outside of comic relief we won't be seeing Blackfinger's tentacle todger. I always knew you were a Todger Tease.  
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Feb 18, 2018 22:32
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Hexenritter posted:Well that's alright then. And I'd like to. I've just been trying to mull some scenes or scene stems over in my head in the off hours while taking care of the missus. Just having a hell of a time trying to come up with engaging content. I get the feeling, just giving you crap. Writing is goddamn hard and real life keeps getting in the way. This stupid work project has a real way of draining all my enthusiasm for everything. Just remember: if we can pressure you into writing more then we can go after Cour next. quote:We don't do smut though and the discord doesn't have an NSFW channel any more so no, outside of comic relief we won't be seeing Blackfinger's tentacle todger. Aww, shucks. I guess we just need someone to write about his... personal sidearm.
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Feb 18, 2018 22:36
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Karia posted:Just remember: if we can pressure you into writing more then we can go after Cour next. Karia posted:Aww, shucks. I guess we just need someone to write about his... personal sidearm. Actually I haven't forgotten, one of my 'to-do's' is writing about Blackfinger's Sidearm AI.
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Feb 18, 2018 22:42
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Post more, Cour 
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Feb 18, 2018 23:03
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Hexenritter posted:Post more, Cour That's the plan; the start to the year has been rough, both at work and at home. However, things seem to be calming down, so, I hope to be able to write a thing or two soon. It'll be something 'lighter' in nature; I don't feel up to channeling 'Shuttle Mom' right now.
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Feb 19, 2018 01:26
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Loel posted:
This could literally be like any hundred different update post/responses in this thread rofl. It's perfect.
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Feb 19, 2018 01:37
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CourValant posted:That's the plan; the start to the year has been rough, both at work and at home. However, things seem to be calming down, so, I hope to be able to write a thing or two soon. Yeah we've all been wondering where you've been buddy, hope things are getting better.
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Feb 19, 2018 02:24
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Hexenritter posted:Yeah we've all been wondering where you've been buddy, hope things are getting better. Thanks buddy, its nice to be missed. 
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Feb 19, 2018 02:26
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Same sentiment. Your writing was kinda what prompted me to throw my own hat in the ring, so here's hoping everything calms down soon (so you can get back to writing for our entertainment.)
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Feb 19, 2018 03:36
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Karia posted:Same sentiment. Your writing was kinda what prompted me to throw my own hat in the ring, so here's hoping everything calms down soon (so you can get back to writing for our entertainment.) Awww . . . shucks, you guys . . .
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Feb 19, 2018 04:00
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quote:From: Plautus Vindyne, Magos Informaticus 3°, Integration Studies eh, I dunno, getting there Hexenritter fucked around with this message at 12:36 on Feb 19, 2018 |
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Feb 19, 2018 10:16
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Hexenritter posted:. . . Athenian Obolii . . . A what now? Also, I'd like to see the 'full menu' of 'magical technological improvements' please; gonna order on and off the menu!
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Feb 19, 2018 20:17
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CourValant posted:A what now? Hooboy, that would be one exhaustive list. Hexenritter posted:Slice of Life: Bank of Mars Vaultworld Eta Vulpecula II, Northern Galactic Overquadrant
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Feb 19, 2018 23:09
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This Citizen Serial Implant intrigues me. Here's betting it's got enough tracking, observation, and indoctrination stuff built in to make the Inquisition piss their pants in jealousy.
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Feb 20, 2018 01:15
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Karia posted:This Citizen Serial Implant intrigues me. Here's betting it's got enough tracking, observation, and indoctrination stuff built in to make the Inquisition piss their pants in jealousy. That's just the tip of the iceberg. It's your curriculum vitae, your work permit, your biometrics monitor,
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Feb 20, 2018 02:21
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And now you've got me inspired. Sheee-it, I was gonna go to bed early tonight, too.
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Feb 20, 2018 03:04
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Hexenritter posted:Hooboy, that would be one exhaustive list. All this talk of Sesterces and Obols is making me want to raise a legion or two-enty thousand.
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Feb 20, 2018 03:18
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Hexenritter posted:That's just the tip of the iceberg. It's your curriculum vitae, your work permit, your biometrics monitor, Very nice. So now we use Anna's sorcery mixed with our hacking to turn every implanted person into a zombie? Or would that count as "going bad"?
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Feb 20, 2018 04:47
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Hexenritter, Imagine the recent huge-rear end firefights on the Dragon turned Belecim into several dozen Action-Figure sized Objectively Nutso Mengele-Analogues aaaaaaand GO!
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Feb 20, 2018 05:48
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Slice of Life: Valskye Class II Agrarian World Athenian Technocracy They had killed his family without a hint of emotion or regret, and then with just as little care they had killed his goddess. Salma Sevora stands in the middle of the concourse, sweating under his jacket. They had been confused when he’d put it on this morning. Don’t you remember that we installed the weather control last week? But he had ignored them, and now he can feel the sweat beading on his brow, and knows that soon it will drip down and sting his eyes with the salt and dirt. He’ll be glad of the pain, though it is nothing compared to the pain she had felt in this spot. Salma is sure this is the place, but he can barely recognize it. The concourse has changed, the old shops and houses gone. Almost overnight new constructions had gone up, towering constructs of glass and shining metal. The people, too, had changed. Before, they had all recognized him, stopping to say hello, a kind word or a piece of candy for Anya. Now the mass of bodies flows around him with the effortlessness of a single mind. He can see that mind in its blank faces, eyes alight and flickering with the strange glow of the network. He knows some of the faces, has to stop himself from calling out to the people they used to be. Jerrick, who had fixed the axle on his tractor when it had snapped on a log hidden under the snow two winters before. Alisha, who had been his girl-next-door with all it implied for two years until she had lost a foot on her father’s farm and been sent to the seminary. Batrin the butcher, who had given him extra- just our little secret- when he couldn’t pay to feed his daughter. The Immortal Empress had filled them, had shone through them with all the glory and grace She entailed, until they abandoned Her. Even the Tagmata sailed on their stomach, and Valskye had kept that stomach filled for seven hundred years. In the old days, they had done even more. Salma remembered growing up with his father telling him the stories of the crusades, when Valskyans had leapt into the stars to stand arm-in-arm against the Great Enemy. This world had fought and died for the Empress. And now, in the month since the Technocracy had arrived, they had abandoned the Divine Sovereign in favor of this new machine god. They had forgotten what that god had done the day it arrived. Salma had taken Anya to the city that day, on this same street. It had been her birthday. Eight years old, old enough that he’d stopped worrying that the coughs or the chills would come for her and take her away. She had asked for a new dress, even though it was already getting cold, so she could have something to look forward to when summer started. Salma had pulled extra shifts for a week to tell her yes. They’d gotten up early to catch the shuttle, had tried a dozen stores before she made her choice. A simple spun blue sundress, modest in length and cut. He had seen her joy at trying it on, and the faint longing when the store had boxed it up for the winter. Salma asked the attendant for a scarf, something she could wear home. Despite Anya’s protests she had glowed with pleasure and pride, and he was at peace. She’d insisted on carrying the box with the dress herself. The siren had started while they were in line for the shuttle back. He’d only heard it once before, a false alarm when an out-system sensor thought the Brood were coming. Salma grabbed her and ran, muttering prayers under his breath. Metalline hold us, shield us, protect us in our hour of weakness. He could hear the anti-air start to fire, harsh cracks and booms that he could feel vibrating his bones, drowning out the panicked screams around him. Not knowing where else to go he’d headed back towards the shop, shoving his way against the flow of people and clearing a path for her through the busy street. The path finally opened up, the shop visible just in front of them. He’d dragged Anya behind him in a final burst of speed when the first dropship fell out of the sky. When he’d woken up in Medical he was holding the scarf, freshly laundered and not a thread out of place. They had apologized for the aggressive landing, scheduled him for orientation to get him used to the Citizen Serial Implant, and sent him home. Later, he found out that the ship hadn’t even been hit. The Technocracy just used the term ‘dropship’ as a strategic procedure. When they’d torn down the church, leveling over it to make a landing pad for the spaceport, Salma had remembered the stories his father told him, the martyrs of the crusades. Celica the Redeemed. Saint Enselm of the Fiery Lance. Sister Marcia Who Lit the Way. Salma the Father. That was how he’d like them to remember him. His shoulders ache from the heavy ANFO under his jacket, and he can feel his right fist starting to cramp from his deathgrip on the trigger. It had been easy to make, everything he needed on the farm. Nobody had thought twice when he’d taken an extra barrel home, their eyes too glazed over from bowing before the heretical machine. But now they would notice. He closes his eyes, finishing the prayer he’d started a month before. Metalline teach us, guide us, heal us. Metalline forge us, temper us, hone us. Strengthen us so we may forsake that weakness and stand for you. For we are your sheep, your children, and your sword. Amen. And with his eyes still closed he thumbs the switch. Even over the heat and pain he can hear the crowd screaming, finally shocked from their electronic stupor. The glory of the Empress shall cleanse you in righteous flames. She will return the terror you felt when the machines arrived tenfold, and you will remember why she is called Belle Dame sans Merci. And maybe… Anya can rest- It all stops. The heat dies, the screams cut off instantly without even a hint of echo. Salma opens his eyes. He is lying on the street, flat on his back. The crowd is parting around him as effortlessly as ever, turning to just miss him without even pausing to glance down. The weight of the ANFO on his chest is gone, but he still cannot move. A drone floats into his view, barely larger than his fist. It settles on his chest, fields glowing an annoyed yellow. It hums at him. “Citizen Sevora. You are frustrating us with your lack of progress. We thought after six months you would have started to learn.” He tries to curse at it, but cannot even move his mouth. “Perhaps the tenth time will be the charm? Just try to remember this time that we’re the nice guys here. Unlike the Imperium, we’ll always give you another shot, courtesy of that little implant in your head.” It bobs side to side for a moment, fields glinting orange in frustration. “Though I really don’t know why I’m bothering to explain this again. “After all: you aren’t going to remember it.” Karia fucked around with this message at 06:41 on Feb 20, 2018 |
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Feb 20, 2018 06:04
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