go roughly seven feet into the pipe, taking my time and looking for traps, tripwires, rats, etc. and then turn around, wait, and listen.
(the shooter saw me dive into the wash, he'll come looking for me eventually. this looks like as good of a spot to turn the tables around as any.)
You run in and hide. You find no traps in the pipe; guess the hunter's ambush didn't go this far.
"So, Steve, are you incentivized in any way to ensure success in missions or do they rely on a hardcoded need to do your duty to make you perform as needed? As in, do you get paid or rewarded in any fashion? Or heck, patted on the back, figuratively speaking, for a job well done?"
"Also, what is, in your opinion, a valuable convict?"
Keep on asking!
>I am in an odd position I suppose. Humans have the difficulty of having no inherent higher purpose. Created, often accidentally, with no inbuilt drive, save for reproduction. Many spend their entire existences searching for that purpose, that thing which satisfies their mind and their desire to make something of themselves. But I was made with a purpose. I don't have to be programmed to do something, I don't have to be told that it's my duty or pumped full of false sensations to drive me. I know I was made to do this. And I am the only being that can do what needs to be done, how and when it needs to be done. Put simply, I see something that needs to happen, and I know I'm the best one to make it happen. So I just do it.
Any convict that can serve a purpose is a useful one.
You act dead. It's fairly easy.
((Err..No it's actually not if you're with that kind of pain. Unless I'm visualizing a gunsh-gauss rifle round wound differently, playing dead is darn hard.
..Unless I am dead. Err.))
((Seconded.))
I imagine that she's curled in a ball, holding the wound but not moving much and not making much noise. Of course acting believably dead upclose would be difficult, but the shooter is far enough away that as long as feyri isn't screaming or wiggling all over the place, she's passable. And Her current make up is of the type that pain isn't as big of a problem.
(( Oh, well...It's very good that Renen is in a simulation right..))
WHAT THE HELL!!!!!!!!!!
JUMP. Try to close into Jim and slice his braincase.
Maybe Doc was right. Flesh really sucks for a fight.
You jump..
You don't exactly clear it; at least not in one piece.
Your legs are now significantly shorter.
Take girl, locate nearest horse. Take horse. Ride horse somewhere better.
You find a pony. You ride that pony with your lesbian love slave.
Thats an interesting phrase.
((It's a joke mixed in with the serious question of motivation. He's clearly sentient by any definition of the word- why does he choose to do what he is told to do? From what I gather, he pretty much controls everything, including the main guns of the ship. If he wanted to piss off and do his own thing, why couldn't he?))
((Some possibilities:
1. He doesn't want to.
2. He's programmed not to.
3. He's programmed not to want to.
4. His minds can't agree on much except following orders.
5. He's afraid of reprisals should he do so.
6. He likes being in charge of a ship.
7. He's bored.
8. He's being rewarded.))
Run in a straight line away from anything that looks dangerous.
You run straight into the strip mall.
That should distract the shooter for a while, self-preservation is generally one of the most influential instincts. The noise should act as a distraction, unless the shooter can see the window already, if that's the case it'll help narrow down their possible locations.
Assuming of course, that whoever is hunting us is human.
Charles quickly scans the area for any movement, he takes note of all the locations that had a direct line of sight to both Feyri and the window that had shattered.
The breaking glass was from your stone, not from someone shooting.
Continue reading.
It also recommends not injecting it into your eyes. Good advice.
(( It tingles. Hah. Now I feel the need to ask Steve if the implant can beam information to my brain. You know, other than "You should be unconscious now" ))
"Alright. If I'm going to survive this, I think I'll want to go review some medicine..."
Skylar heads to the armory and asks if there are any pamphlets / manuals on field medicine he could borrow
I forget if there are. Hey, millions of players, did I give one of those out before? I feel like I might of.