((Titanium. One of very few bio-compatible materials, but it works.))
I actually knew that. In reality people who have synth-flesh parts while keeping human ones don't have the flesh grafted straight to them, they have a titanium plate thing attached to the stump and the plate is what the synth-flesh is attached to. So plating made of titanium is possible, but if you're gonna use it subdermally you run into the problem that, well, it's an inflexible, somewhat heavy metal. Not exactly the best thing to spread through your chest cavity considering the need to move and bend and things. Last thing we need is something that, if he jumps or lands heavily, tears into his abdominal cavity.
"Woo! Watch out, world!"
Wheel around like a madman. A paralyzed, bedridden madman.
"Hey, ship brain guy! Is this one of those ships with light-uppable walls that show you where to go to go places?"
Look for the workshop, with or without help.
You roll out of the hospital and do a few very slow, very underwhelming donuts in the hall before continuing along, looking for some sort of workshop.
"Hey, ship brain guy! Is this one of those ships with light-uppable walls that show you where to go to go places?"
>No, this is one of those ships with enormous, brightly colored signs painted on the walls. You're crippled, not blind, though you may be stupid."I wouldn't really know of such materials personally, I handle machines and not organic stuff. And when you say armor plating, I was thinking more along the lines of a mesh imbedded into the tissue, but whatever is more effective I guess. Can you run some tests and see if you can come up with suitable substances and methods of protection? I'm sure someone of YOUR caliber would be able to handle such a task after all."
Follow the doc and expect the worse for the treatment.
You snap your fingers in front of the doctor to bring his attention back to this world. "Oh, yes." he mutters, obviously disappointed with this world and longing to return to whatever mental utopia of vivisection and mad science he just left. He leads you into the back, down a long hall, a flight of stairs, another hall and finally into a chamber-one of what must be hundreds of chambers you passed along the way. Inside the room is something that looks like a cross between a bed and a chair, a half reclined, heavily cushioned thing with, worryingly, about a dozen restraint points all over it. You gulp down a knot of unease and sit down in the chair. The doctor goes about restraining every limb and making sure the restraints are tight before he walks over to a control panel on the wall and types a few things in.
"Process will take a few hours. Scream if you need anything." He says, stepping out through the door. A moment later he pokes his head back in. "Well, scream louder." And then he's gone again.
After he leaves the room large sections of the wall slide open to reveal gantries loaded with dozens of mechanical arms, each tipped with different tools, that slide out from the walls on either side of you. A lot of the tools on the arms look like syringes of one kind or another. Two arms equipped with what look like metal half sleeves, each studded with 8 rather massive syringes. The sleeves come down and press themselves against your flesh, holding your arms to the chair and the syringes slowly lower into the sleeve and the waiting flesh beyond. [End:6] You tap your foot, a bit bored, as the machine digs the syringes down into your arms, all the way to and then into the bone. It injects its supply of...whatever it is into the marrow before sliding back out and removing the sleeve, leaving 8 bleeding holes in either arm. This continues for your legs, your feet, your chest, your head, your eyes and every major organ. As the process continues, the bleeding holes it leaves begin to close faster and faster, to the point that the last shot, one straight through the sternum and into your heart, doesn't bleed at all.
The doctor returns shortly there after and releases you from your restraints. "Follow path back." he says rather nonchalantly after handing you a towel for the blood.
"Come at me, Jim!"
Jumping axe kick!
Once I get my answer, submit to the treatment and brace myself for the worst.
((Now we have a good healer!))
Jim looked at Feyri, then at his arms. After a moment's though, he calmly folded them behind his back. "These arms are stronger than I thought... I'll try not to use them too much. Are you up for continuing?" he asked, watching Fey for signs of actual damage. "If you're feeling unwell, I can carry you back to the infirmary..."
Should Feyri wish to continue, Jim will wait for her to approach and then try to sweep her legs out from under her.
[Feyri dex:4]
[Jim dex:5+1]
[jim str:2]
Jim sidestep's Feyri's blow and drops low, bringing his foot around in a hard arc and catching her on the lower leg. The blow doesn't seem to have any effect.
>Mug Bishop the moment he enters the hall
((Damnit, he got away! If only I'd posted sooner... 
))
Charro finally removed the pillow from his ears and glanced down at his tokens.
"Huh..." He frowned a bit. Only five? Had he counted wrong? Not quite the payout he'd been hoping for, but at least he still had his rifle and scout-eye. Or did he?
'Argh, it's so hard to remember... Can't concentrate.'
Infact, thinking hard about anything was kinda strenuous lately. Weird.
>Determine if I've still got my laser rifle and scout eye.
>Also, rate my post-brain-damage stupidity on a scale of 1 to 10.
Still clutching his pillow in one hand, Charro walked unsteadily off to the cafeteria to get himself some comfort food- The delicious mixture of everything on the dessert menu. Then it's time to watch some television.
>Grab a tray of disgusting/delicious mixture from the cafeteria, then go watch TV.
It appears that Bishop has looted your corpse and made off with all your stuff. Dick.
[Int:1] On a scale of one to 10 you'd say you come in at a...Pickle. No, wait that doesn't make any sense. Potato. Yeah, thats it. Potato.
You head for the rec room and get yourself a big heaping bowl of all the deserts mixed together, practically nothing but a giant glob of sugar, and flop down on the couch next to some guy you have never seen before who is watching the news.
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Topic: Einsteinian Roulette On ship Thread: Maurice's One Night Stand (Read 6000205 times)