Topic: Re: Decembre in Paradisum Turn 9/Head of the Snake (Read 14934 times)

Dwarmin · « **Reply #45 on:** August 06, 2013, 01:39:50 pm »

December 1st, 2097

Quote from: Paradisum Oculus-Your best source ofDaily News

ACS outbreak in Zone 18
...Source in the government report a strain of malignant ACS infected the popular nightclub Caligula's Palace and at least half it's patrons in what is the twenty ninth outbreak of this year alone. Emergency services were able to shut down the net fairly quickly, but physical violence spread unchecked into the early hours of the morning. Hounds report light losses-but, almost 48 Oids and 67 Humans lost their lives...a memorial is planned for the lost this evening, and the government has stressed all Oids continue to observe and protect their CPU health, downloading the latest protection programs available.

Senator Gordon to give speech denouncing Rebel Violence
Senator Gordon Fine of Zone 5 is scheduling a rally near his palatial estate this evening, and is expected to fiercely denounce the latest Harrier activity. A fierce opponent of Rebel and Sympathizers, he's likely gathering public support for his controversial 'Oid Licensing' bill. Oids already undergo standard governmental identity checks, but his bill will far expand the governments role in tracking and identifying Oidkind...

Economy Woes Continue-Market down for fourth week straight
In what is becoming a bitter joke on Silstreet, Carthy McAgree's constant pronunciations of hope and persistence have done nothing to quell the slump in consumer sales. Nearly all industries report significant losses, with the notable exception of Caeltech-Pdef, the weapons and armor conglomerate merger that seems all but unstoppable given the recent demand.

With the holiday season approaching, many businesses are hoping for a windfall that will turn the market around and keep Paradisum going strong into the new year...

Ritzny Axe and Gemega Spear file for divorce
Gold Avenue power couple's month long marriage comes to a bitter end as the pair calls it quits. A whirlwind romance that caught the hearts of the public after their hit movie 'Love and Acrimony' premiered to record breaking sales on the net...oddly coinciding the release of 'Love and Acrimony' box set of hardchips collectors edition...

Jet Leviathan saves Deep Water Drilling crew
The disaster of the 'Seathresher-053' could have been much worse, our sources agree. Assaulted by rouge AI 'Sharkoids' as they attempt a routine scan of the cavernous ocean underneath Paradisum, they were left adrift and without power-running out of air and supplies. It's Human crew of 19 could certainly have perished, had the lone Oid onboard not sacrificed his core completely, to energize the subs air compressors for a vital hour...

Lucky for them Jet Leviathan, Paradisums Icy Oid Hero, was on the scene. She pulled out the crew one by one, fighting off the hostile Sharkoids, and ferried them to a waiting Cave-Destroyer PSS Anatoly. All 19 members are currently resting in medbay, expected to make full recoveries. The Oid who sacrificed himself, DEFENDER designation 8, was once a K&E squad member-and will be given a heroes retirement in the Garden Ring Oid Warriors Rest.

The Council commended her bravery, which is a certain change of tone considering last weeks harsh words considering her neutral leaning and refusal to formally join the Hounds in this time of crisis.

Jet Leviathan had no comment, as of press time.

Striker

The ground scurries beneath you at high speed, a bed of green and gold and brown. Your systems map the area in real time, overlaying and updating. The throaty roar of your engines is only a comforting buzz to your electronic ears.

Flying has always given you a sense of peace. Given the fear that regularly dominates your life...you sometimes think these biweekly 'expeditions' the Council contracts you to do might be the only thing that keep you in working order. That, and they gave you a flight license-which allows you some freedom in the air, away from all the hovercabs and dropships with zoom around Paradisums inner airspace.Which was why the latest communication you receive on your ONET account filled you with such dread.

Quote from: Paradisum Council Communique

Noted STRIKER DESIGNATION 3

The Council is unhappy to report we are cancelling the K&E program for the duration of the ACS and Rebel emergency. Your services will no longer be needed-and furthermore, your license to travel outside of city limits will also be revoked. Expect a final SIL check to be accredited to your account. Remember to follow the law. When the crisis ends, services will likely resume.

We can only suggest you contact your local representative for further information. Have you considered duty in the Hounds? You can serve your city and your people. For more information, visit our website at pmn.Pargov.Com.

So you took one final flight, knowing-down to the nanonsecond-when your license will be revoked. At which point, you'll likely be given a warning. At three warnings, you'll be declared rouge and the anti air defenses around Paradisum will target you. They're not very lenient these days.

One final flight...and then you have to go home. A home you rarely visit, except for your occasional downtime. Then what? You're not sure...you're still not sure what to think about all the problems going on. It's too big for you. You just would prefer to fly. But, you've got to do something, right?

Anything to keep busy. It's the only respite from the fear.

...

Several hours, you hit ground-a small, personal pad outside your humble home. It's an apartment primarily for fliers, true. No one can just walk up here, as the entire structure is carved into the sheer cavern walls of the old drill's passage downward-they have to fly, or take the Gravtrack. Sometimes you look down into the abyss, with so much myriad lifeforms huddling around and at the bottom. At least you get natural light up here...

You're already feeling that horrible...slowness...that always precludes an onset of panic, as you mount the steps to your flat. Thrum, thrum, thrum. There's scarce movement in the corner of your eye, something with a reaching hand, but you resist the urge to spin around. You know...you know...you know it's nothing. Just that feeling...that horrible feeling...just a bad feeling, right?

The interruption of your interior turmoil is somewhat sudden, as you spot the note adhered to your front door. You look around, immediately paranoid. But there's no one here. There's a number on it...and an address. Not a physical address, a Cyberspace address. You've got a terminal inside you can use to visit it, if you want.

You take it with you, five fingered metal hand idly scratching your chassis (of course Oids shouldn't have to scratch, but tell that to your creator) and only feel safe when the door closes and locks behind you. Click...click...choonk...

All safe now. No enemies in here but the ones in your multialloy cybernetic brain.

[10]

It's not much for a home-hardly more the basics, but it's better than nothing. You whirr to yourself at the mess, embarrassed despite no one else being around. It's quite a mess in here, metal scrap parts scattered around your workbench...you got quite lucky on your last haul, stuff you haven't worked with before. Perhaps you could make something to fetch a bit of SIL when you have the time.

Spoiler: Strikers Home (click to show/hide)

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Striker (click to show/hide)

----

Riu

Another strange mission, you muse. Another frozen cavern-which, while beautiful-tends to start to look the same after awhile. There's rarely anyone or anything down in the place you're in, not even Deepoids. You're constantly on the lookout for them, if only to imagine your work might be a bit 'exciting', despite your orders not to engage in anything actually dangerous. But, you're seen nothing so far except for some Oidbats-and they scurried away from your scanlight into the darkness. You reported it, and wondered why mechanimals would be afraid of light. As far as you know, real living bats are nocturnal-so why would their mechanical 'dopplergangers' also be so?

A question you've often left to those who can do the thinking. You don't even question your orders, really. Arclite is merely a contractor you work for...they give you the job, you do it.

It's unfortunate that today you're got heavier things on your mind. Like the council message sent to you this morning.

Quote from: Paradisum Council Communique

Noted Remembrance Class Inquisitive Unit Desig. Unknown

RIU unit, the council has been informed of your recent activities and would like to inform you that your exploratory missions are unsanctioned and potentially dangerous to the security of Paradisum. In addition, legal troubles with your creator and his domain have forced us to reconsider your exploration grant. Please desist from these actions at once. We do this out of concern-rest assured, when the current crisis has been resolved, we will give you a fair hearing.

We can only suggest you contact your local representative for further information. Have you considered duty in the Hounds? You can serve your city and your people. For more information, visit our website at pmn.Pargov.Com.

You've got strong feelings for the 'crisis' which you suspect might have preceded this. The Council is calling all Oids on duty, for reasons everyone can guess. A War. You've only ever wanted there not to be a war...but sometimes how hard the Council is really trying to avoid it...

You pause at an intersection of ice tunnels, judging your next turn. Only a few miles upward. You want to finish this up quickly. Your mechanical feet whirr over the frozen ground with no loss of traction, and not an inch of the cave escapes your enhanced vision.

...

A few hours later, a hovercab drops you off in front of your house in Zone 9, a nice pleasant place where's there been no real trouble. You decided to travel in style, seeing as you're probably about to get alot more free time on your hands.

A passing human male whistles at you as he walks by, and you blink in confusion-hearing yourself respond in a voice that's similar, but not quite your own. Like you're getting the words from somewhere. You wonder why that should effect you so, but you smile as the youth runs off with a red, embarrassed face. Probably nothing, you think-though this happens sometime. You just know what to say. A minor code error, perhaps, as if anything wrong in your brain can be considered 'minor'. You'll give yourself a good debugging tonight, that's for sure! Maybe you've just spent so much time alone in caves that...well, some time off might be really good, in fact. You wish

It's not enough, after today, you find one of those tacky notices adhered to your doorframe as you open it. It's a net address you haven't heard of before. Usually paper notices are crazy paranoid types that are afraid of transmitting info digitally. But you notice the address-it's a sister site to Arclite, owned by the same company or corporation or whatever.

....

Your home, such as it is, feels amazingly comfortable to you. You've collected things that just feel so...right, here. You may be a well designed grief Councillor, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy taking care of your plants. Flowers, ferns, even mushrooms. You don't 'smell', but your olfactory senses tell you this is quite a positively fragrant place.

You relax in your favorite chair and close your eyes, wondering about your next move. Perhaps a night on the town? After what happened last night at Caligula's though, you doubt many people are in the mood for fun of any sort but lots of drinking.

Spoiler: Riu's Home (click to show/hide)

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: RIU (click to show/hide)

---
Fox-01

You crouch in the undergrowth, your skin subtly shifting color to match the hues of the dirt and grass around you. Your nose twitches in excitement-not that Oids should be excited. But, tell that to your creators.

You clutch your weapon in hand-a holocam. Waiting. Today is your final test in many ways. You're to observe and record a wild Mechanimal in it's natural environment...this time, you're going to do it...

You creep forward, making very little sound. But, mechanimals can hear the slightest squall. No one knows what to make of them. Animals, or former animals, they were at first-infected maybe by the quick growth nanites that made the twisted forest. Now, though, they seem to reproduce themselves much like living beings. A living, intelligent order. They've evolved, more or less, to hunt Oids. You're not the sort to indulge in the grotesque, but a normal 'bear' as you've read about wouldn't be able to harm you. It would probably be too afraid to even approach you. But a Mechbear, or a Bearoid (the names are interchangeable) could tear you to shreds if you weren't careful-and eat you. You suppose it's balance. Mechanimals rarely bother humans. You, though, are on the menu. These thoughts are very confusing-they make it hard to focus.

Which is why your ears alert to a snuffling in the underbrush behind you a nanomoment too late. Behind...?!

Your mechanical mind springs into action, calculating angles of attack and escape routes and playing scenarios at the speed of light. But the Mechbear is just one step faster...it rears above you blotting out all light, cutting off all escape, all hope of anything but a quick death. As it's horrible silver claws fall down on you with the weight of a mountain, you wish they had thought to give you more than a holocam for defense...

...

SIMULATION HALTED

The voice that echoes over the loudspeaker is mocking in it's clinical detachment. The scene around you fades and washes out. The Mechbear sim flickers above you in killing poise.

Your creator, Doctor Flannery, walks toward you-clucking good naturedly.

"Another snack for the Mechbear, eh Fox?" he chides. You've been through this particular simulation about a dozen times. It's ended the same every time...and until then, you'll never get to see the outside world you were designed to explore. It's terribly depressing. You're one of the first Forest Element oids...and you guess there's still some bugs to work out...though that's sort of terrifying, if you think of yourself as fundamentally flawed in design. No, you'll just have to do better next time.

Flannery isn't a cruel man, though he does push you to your limits.

"We can try again next week. For now, go, have some time off-drum up some work, maybe. You're not ready for the Twisted Forest, but the council has approved your license to practice in Paradisum. Impress them enough, they'll stop making us run these tests maybe." He says kindly.

He starts to leave, then stops. You wait patiently, sure that Doctor Flannery did not actually forget anything. He's just into dramatic pauses. "You got this left for you on the front desk. I don't know, it's an address-perhaps someone wants to do an interview?"

...

Leaving the research institute, you make a habit of taking the long way around to clear your head. This small bubble is in the heartland of Paradisum, but it's a completely self contained mechanical forest-with many harmless mechanimals living within. You've never known any home but here. You scuttle through the maze of branches, burrows and ropes, up to the small hideaway you built yourself by a quick flying jump. You could have flown all the way sure, but this is much more fun.

Dr. Flannery helped you install some of the machines here, and the trees here are made of either electrolyzed rubber or softsteel, which conduct electricity-it was easy to get a power source. Flannery said it looked like a 'Treehouse' when it was done, and that's a good enough name for you. It's comfortable here, and the sounds of the outside world are muted by the sounds of the preservation all around you. It's easy to sleep...a function which, as a Animoid, you have built in. You don't *have* to sleep-anymore than you truly have to eat, or drink or even breathe. But you can choose to do these things, because they reinforce the reality of the body you inhabit. An animoid is in many ways the most living of any Oid.

You curl up on your mat, woven from gossamer cables, and wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Spoiler: Fox-01's Home (click to show/hide)

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: FOX-01 (click to show/hide)

---
Septima

Coppola touches a primitive solder to your chestplate. His face is set in grim determination. You are alive, but you cannot speak. He doesn't seem to have given you a voicebox yet.

Your audio works, though. He's angry. Not that you know what anger is, not yet.

"They want a killer? They want a weapon? I'll give them a weapon..."

He looks straight into your eyes at this point. You have no eyelids, nor would have a reflex to close them.

"You, my Dear, will be the most perfect of weapons." He says, his voice cold. Cold as ice.

You snap back to reality, shaking your head rapidly to one side. A spasmodic tic you've had going on 20 years, it seems to occur when you have these 'flashbacks', which no one is able to explain. It's been getting worse, and you have no doubt it'll not get any better. Your mind is Old...very old, like your body. And yet-even if you survived the transfer to a 'new' body, your mind would still be slowly dying. It's a cold line of thinking.

But you've lived a long time, and you're not sure if you're afraid of death anymore.

....
You were heading home after helping a neighbor fix his roof. Hardly world changing, but he's an old DEFENDER unit who can't move very well anymore.

That was when you saw the OCP Loader Droids picking on a small Animoid, it made you angry. You think that OCP droids tend to be fairly stupid, all things considered. Enhancements to their 'intelligence' seem to have primarily made them obnoxious, rude and mean. When one of them kicked the tiny bee-like Animoid in the head, you momentarily had to calm yourself. You know Bee Animoids are quite popular as couriers and collectors, and their hive programming means they never lose their way. But it doesn't do much for self defense.

It's these sort of things that...make you angry.

As you approached, they all turned to face you, feeling brave in their numbers. Stupid, blank faces, cranes and box grabbers for arms.

One of them beeped out a binary code to you-even making binary beeps sound like a threat. No one bothers to give them voices. Thanks the creator.

[01010111 01001000 01000001 01010100 01010011 00100000 01001001 01010100 00100000 01010100 01001111 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01001101 01000101 01000011 01001000 01001111 01001001 01000100 00111111 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01010111 01000001 01001110 01001110 01000001 00100000 01000111 01000101 01010100 00100000 01001001 01001110 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01001010 01010101 01001110 01001011 01000101 01010010 00100000 01001110 01001111 01010111 00101100 00100000 01010011 01000001 01010110 01000101 00100000 01010101 01010011 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01010100 01010010 01001111 01010101 01000010 01001100 01000101 00111111?]

How creative.

You don't bother to respond, and in a moment the largest one takes a swing at you with an oversized wrecking ball arm-you don't even have to move to evade the hit.

It's all the justification you need to leave them in pieces, staggering back to their repair bays with a lesson learned in simple courtesy.

....

The Animoid Bee chirps out a grateful thankyou call as you plug an E-Tank into him. He's only got one gently glowing green eye, and no facial gestures to speak of, but it shows alot of emotion all the same.

"Bzzzzt..hank you, Her-o! Bzz9 will not forget you-r brave-ry!"

You had to carry the little guy all way back to home. You watch as he flies away in a buzzy fashion, back to the upper levels he belongs in-hoping he was listening when you told him to be careful about traveling down here...good deed done for the day, you suppose.

Down here.

It's away from the big lights of upper Paradisum, but you've found the people and Oids most in need of help reside here. And so you enjoy your retirement, thought not every day is as exciting as today. Most down here are wise enough not to pick a fight with you.

The old Hero. The Old Killer.

As you punch the security code to your flat, you spot a notice stuck on your door. Some sort of net address. You don't give it much thought, but...no one pastes advertisements down here. There's nothing anyone can buy because they don't have the SIL for it, and it's much easier to steal, or use the Black Market.

...

Home isn't much, but it's quiet. That's all you really need. It's got most of what you call your own-old trophies of enemies long dead, mounted holopictures of your old friends-most Oids have perfect photographic memories, naturally, but you're afraid you'll lose this one day...most of them are long dead too.

You drop a chunk of the OCP loader onto your workbench. Maybe you can extract something useful from it's hateful programming.

You sit alone in your empty, quiet house. You close your eyes and wonder if you'll ever open them again. Total system failure is, as the humans say, sudden as a heart attack.

Spoiler: Septima's Home (click to show/hide)

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Septima (click to show/hide)

---
Clair

"Four Hostiles approaching from the North-Clair, you got them?" Your partner unit's voice crackles in your 'ear'-though it's actually directly into your head. You silently adjust for the interference caused by the shutdown of the local net.

Oh? Yeah, you got them. They go down in a hail of heated claw blows, falling to chunks and bits as you smile grimly.

ACS berserk labor drones aren't much of a threat to you, but your job is perimeter duty after all...you wonder about that. Just a day ago, you were 'born'-you knew you were CLAIR and you knew they built you to fight-you knew you had been built for a purpose. There's memories before that, but they are fragmentary. A laboratory, learning speech, how to walk, how to smile or frown or even cry. All the basics of a childhood, instantly download. Most of them are pure Human frippery, designed to make your sentience a bearable one. You don't need these things, but you know on some level if you couldn't 'cry', you'd probably go mad from suppressed emotion. As if that makes any sense-pff, go ask your creator, right?

The first thing you did was extend the claws in your hand, as natural feeling as any other limb you have. Your body, as you consider it, is extraordinarily well made. You haven't divined the purpose of your frontal 'amenities' yet, but you like the look of those too. Perhaps you've got some sort of confidence programming?

You do also remember feeling vaguely bored firing at 'holographic' targets, which couldn't hurt you back. You were silently pleased when your training was interrupted, as emergency combat chips were fed into you. They said they needed fighting Oids, now.

Only you and your 'brother' BLAIR-your partner unit-were let out, being the most advanced models along in the class. And you've been either fighting, or moving to fight ever since then. In truth, you're a bit low on energy but...you're not going to admit that. You feel more alive now than you've ever, which might not be saying much since you're only lived about 48 hours. They said the place ahead was called a 'nightclub'-you cross referenced it. A place of entertainment. ACS outbreak. Nasty business. More than a few Hounds and Oids you've seen carted out in pieces by the Medtechs. And Humans too, though their pieces are far less sterile.

"Looks like things are calming down...it's a mess down there...but you're looking good." Blair says over the comm, clearly disobeying the rules of non-fraternization during combat missions. You smile. Not really sure why, but you do.

...

Sometime later, they 'let you go'. What does that mean?

"It means you're a Free Oid. Until you sign up for the Hounds, that is." Blair says, tinkering with his arm mounted cannon. You're in the company barracks-they've let you stay here, at least until you find someplace better-they've also given you some SIL and let you keep your weapons and armor, in a good will gesture. They probably don't want to be liable if you go berserk and start shooting up the streets. 'Bereft and Heartbroken Oid takes out rage on city'?

"Funny, right? Paradisum conscripted us, so we don't belong to Arclite anymore. But, they can't make us Hounds, we have to choose. So-we don't belong anywhere right now." He says with an easy laugh, one that evokes your own as natural as breathing would be if you needed to breathe. It's easy to forget he's only a few days old, like you-but you were programmed, constructed, and trained together. Blair is as close to a brother as you could ever hope to have, even if you don't really know what a brother is.

"...personally, I'd favor the hounds. On the side of justice." Blair muses, his face hardening in concentration.

In what short time you've actually spoken to each other, this is actually the only source of disagreement you've had. You like to fight, but you immediately disagreed with the Paradisum Government on the things they've done-and are doing. The more you researched, the more you believed it. Blair was the other way around...

"...Anyway, we don't have to decide now. I'm just going to take a break. Get my bearings. I like to fight, yeah, but...we've only been active for 73 hours and 57 minutes and 47 point 4 seconds. I want to have some fun...but hey, you got this in the Omail. Some sort of address. I guess you're already popular, huh? I'll be out on the heliport in 10 if you're up for it." He hands you a slip of paper with a net address, smiles, and jots off. What is Fun? Aside from blowing things up. Time to cross reference.

You look about the barracks. Not much here. You're certainly not going back to training, that's for sure.

Spoiler: Clair's Barracks (click to show/hide)

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Clair (click to show/hide)

OOC: This starts in freeform mode, but the net address will lead you to the party and beginning quests when you're ready. Have at it, ya silly robots.

SOLDIER First · « **Reply #46 on:** August 06, 2013, 01:44:26 pm »

((Ho-ly shit.
that was beautiful.))
Fox wakes up, yawning. He stretches, and sits up, blinking for a second.
Another day, he thinks.
He hops down from the Treehouse and begins to make his way back to the institute.

scapheap · « **Reply #47 on:** August 06, 2013, 03:09:51 pm »

Clair looked at the address. Normally she would go straight there, her programing didn't have anything else, but Blair comment 'have some fun' made her feel odd. Humans went to nightclubs to have 'fun' right. It wasn't night at the moment so what else was there? The word 'park' came up.

She looked around, she 'remember' that combat armour wasn't suitable for going to a 'park' so she look for that set of clothes they called 'casual'. It was made of a leather jacket and jeans and made her look like a 'biker chick' they said.

She left the barracks for the closest park 'remembering' something about feeding ducks? Did she have any money?

Dwarmin · « **Reply #48 on:** August 06, 2013, 03:46:26 pm »

Quote from: scapheap on August 06, 2013, 03:09:51 pm

Clair looked at the address. Normally she would go straight there, her programing didn't have anything else, but Blair comment 'have some fun' made her feel odd. Humans went to nightclubs to have 'fun' right. It wasn't night at the moment so what else was there? The word 'park' came up.

She looked around, she 'remember' that combat armour wasn't suitable for going to a 'park' so she look for that set of clothes they called 'casual'. It was made of a leather jacket and jeans and made her look like a 'biker chick' they said.

She left the barracks for the closest park 'remembering' something about feeding ducks? Did she have any money?

Your mind rapidly produces information for you to digest.

Spoiler: Sil (click to show/hide)

And apparently you have....2500 SIL in your inventory.

You keep moving in direction of the nearest park. You practice 'whistling' on the way there, pursing your lips and blowing air to produce a musical sound. You can't quite get it right.

[d20 Encounter Roll=16]

Your trip is 'uneventful', as in nothing tries to attack you and trigger your combat programming. Which would be bad for them. You're processing information at a ridiculous pace now-hovercars, humans, buildings, storm drains, clouds, grass...

You watch with interest as a Human male approaches you, seemingly want to ask for directions. He can't seem to concentrate on your face though, and walk past, leaving him sputtering apologies.

When you get to the park, you buy a pack of duck feed for sale at a nearby unmanned vendor. You literally just take it in your hand, wanting to buy it-and feel the money deducted from your account.

-10 SIL

You spend a half an hour feeding the ducks. Some of them are real ducks. Others are...mechanical ducks, with silvery feathers and tiny gears and wheels moving their wings and legs. Like some humans are real, and others are Humoids. They don't seem to mind each others company, and they don't fight over the food. You notice the duck feed is both brown duck food, and tiny pellets that resemble miniscule energy tanks-and are in fact, biodegradable. Both types of duck only eat their kind of food, generally.

You sit on the bench, tossing food and enjoying...well, everything. The wind on your skin, the...beauty?..of the Sun and Sky, the mingling of persons about you in joy. You process an odd desire to remove your shoes and put your feet in the 'grass', but resist. The showing of feet can be considered improper in public, you believe.

You're not sure if you feel better now than you did when you were in battle. They feel sort of the same...but the battle was over faster. This could last much longer.

It makes you wonder if they made you just for fighting, or for something else.

Quote from: Sentient Bowtie on August 06, 2013, 01:44:26 pm

((Ho-ly shit.
that was beautiful.))
Fox wakes up, yawning. He stretches, and sits up, blinking for a second.
Another day, he thinks.
He hops down from the Treehouse and begins to make his way back to the institute.

[d20 Encounter Roll=20]

You roll out of your home, padded feet landing softly on the forgiving Earth and begin making your way back to the institute. Of course, you tend to get sidetracked a bit....curiosity, your gift and curse.

You find yourself a bit off course, staring up at something that wasn't here yesterday. Not like this anyway. Your mind recalls a holographic overlay and confirms it-yesterday, it was a small plant about your height. Now, it's taller than Doctor Flannery!

It looks different than the trees around it, very thin and springy-slightly bending in the winds of the dome. You can tell it's inorganic. You spy at the top what looks like...round fruit of some sort. Your sensors scan it quickly. The fruit-it's full of energy! Different than an Energy Tank...somehow, it's purer.

Insofar as you have a sense of taste, the more energy the better. You are processing a strong desire to find out good it tastes...or maybe Dr. Flannery will want to see one of these strange plants first. And, let you have it to eat afterwards.

Taricus · « **Reply #49 on:** August 06, 2013, 03:54:57 pm »

((Just wanna point out that OCP is a model designation, not the the company itself (As that's just "Omnicron" by itself). Of course, they could be retired models or whatnot, still thought it would be ploite to post a clarificaton though.))

Criptfeind · « **Reply #50 on:** August 06, 2013, 04:19:01 pm »

Striker walked to the opposite side of his domicile, on the opposite wall was a station for repair and refueling. Next to it was a work bench, the place where he stored the junked parts he collected and worked on, he considered the bench. Basic field repairs were something he was forced to know, just in case something happened to him out on recon, but he was never interested in learning more since the incident. After it though, he spent so much time alone, and had much less trust in others. Eventually what started as paranoid learning slowly morphed into a hobby for him. Putting small parts and junk he found together into something new, it could almost relax him. Almost.

He put the note down on top of pile of junk and grabbed a hose that dangled from a small canister. Plugging the hose into his right arm he twisted the valve, letting a small amount of Frezon enter his system. It was only tiny amount, he after all only flew for a couple of hours, but these days he made sure to fill his tanks completely whenever he could. Just in case right?

He then turned to look at his work station. A area in the middle of it was cleared, his current project, the remains of Hawkoid, lay on it. A flyer like Striker, but not. He wondered at it. Wings, a small propulsion system, the mystery of what it used as fuel was as yet uncovered, he could look it up most likely, but for some reason he liked wondering. It was beautiful, but not efficient, so different in design then him, even though they did much of the same.

Other, and more enjoyable urgent tasks done he turned away from the Hawkoid. A small panel flipped out in his left leg grove, from out of it a small orange cable ending in a black plug popped out. He took the cable in hand and plugged it into a small socket behind the workbench and himself into Cyberspace. His visor dropped down and his optical sensors took a back seat in his mind to his Cybersenses. He was in his small light green homepage. It was pretty rough, he tried to work on it some, but he never really took to it. With a few mental steps he exited his homepage and was soon at Pargov.Com. He knew this trip was pointless. He pulled up the main BBS and a few relevant info nodes as he accessed the information he could find on the ending of the K&E program and the restricting of his flight. It was, as expected, sparse. Without any idea of what to do next he downloaded the information on the Hound duty that the Omail had mentioned, then brought himself back to his homepage to analyze it.

Errol · « **Reply #51 on:** August 06, 2013, 04:39:03 pm »

Septima laid on her repair station. She had built it herself some time ago. Well... she had built it herself with the help of a few old friends. Okay, she helped some old Oid friends that were versed in engineering. Building it for her as a favor. You never knew what factories put into their products. But if you build something yourself... You know. It was an act of emancipation.

She did not trust SIL either. That system was a joke, made by the government for the government. She did have an account, because she had to - It belonged to another friend, who voluntarily retired himself a year ago. A good Eleoid. Barely hit four years. Designed to fail, to sell the successor model.

Perhaps... she should make an Oid some day. And not give it a purpose.

...

But for today... she needed to make something with the materials. Get some practice in, and perhaps a barter good out of the deal. Scan a good text doc... perhaps check the address? Once she got into a good doc, there wasn't much that could tear her out of it. Sometimes they held answers. Often they raised questions. So, chip first, then...

That address was curious. Either it was spam - rarely happened - , or someone knew she was here. Well, that Olympia Septima was here - a name she never used when she could avoid it. While she didn't exactly make a secret about what she was, and reasonably many knew where she lived, she at least hoped that few knew -who- she was. Especially down here, her... Series was anything but common knowledge. They had vague ideas, of course, but there was far more rumour than fact circulating, and she liked it that way.

Would be nice to visit the upper city, too. In disguise, of course. And visit that one certain research institute again. One that didn't ask non-science related questions, that didn't associate with non-science related organizations. Do a systems clean. A virus scan. She shuddered at the thought of getting taken over by the ACS virus... perhaps her routines would be too primitive to hijack, she thought bitterly. But better to be safe than sorry... and she was never going to be a weapon again if she could help it.

SOLDIER First · « **Reply #52 on:** August 06, 2013, 07:56:28 pm »

I'll have one and bring anther to Doctor Flannery, Fox thinks.
He flies up to grab them.

IronyOwl · « **Reply #53 on:** August 06, 2013, 08:14:55 pm »

Riu sighed, even though there were no humans around to understand it. She liked being at least a little human even when there weren't any to comfort. It made it feel less like an act when she did try to interact with them.

This latest business, though... it made her sad. She supposed she should probably think "at least it's not fighting," but she really wasn't sure it wasn't fighting. Arclite wanted to do something, the government wanted different things to happen. She was pretty sure at least one of them was being unreasonable or at least selfish, and while she couldn't say much for Arclite, the government didn't have a lot of credibility left to her.

Was Arclite really doing something dangerous or wrong by hiring an explorer, or did the government have something to hide or interfere with? They certainly weren't going to get her to join the Hounds by interfering with her current job, if that's what they were thinking. Surely they couldn't have been petty and meddling enough to do it just for that, could they?

She shook her head to signify changing thoughts. She didn't really want to bother with that stuff right now. It was depressing, and she didn't think there was a good answer for it.

So... night on the town. Horrible virus. Over a hundred dead.

It was really difficult being thoughtful sometimes.

Still, it was that or this strange cyber address. Probably Arclite's parent hoping to get her back, possibly under the table. Why, she couldn't say, but she'd probably end up accepting. Not like she had a whole lot else to do.

In the meantime, maybe getting out would be good for her. She didn't want to get too detached from the city, after all.

Standing up, she moved over to her Beautification Booth, wondering if she had anything more... fun to wear. She liked her current outfit, but it was her work appearance. She thought maybe changing into something else would help her relax on her night out.

Then it was out the door and wherever the city took her. She was going to enjoy herself tonight if it killed her.

Tiruin · « **Reply #54 on:** August 06, 2013, 11:05:31 pm »

((...I hate timezones.

Waitlist please?))

scapheap · « **Reply #55 on:** August 07, 2013, 01:42:15 am »

Clair looked at the time. She could of swore that it has only been 30 minutes or so. Where did the time go? Looking again at the net address she wonder if she should go like this or change back to her combat armour. To save time she went with what she got and headed to the address

Dwarmin · « **Reply #56 on:** August 07, 2013, 06:53:32 am »

Quote from: Criptfeind on August 06, 2013, 04:19:01 pm

He knew this trip was pointless. He pulled up the main BBS and a few relevant info nodes as he accessed the information he could find on the ending of the K&E program and the restricting of his flight. It was, as expected, sparse. Without any idea of what to do next he downloaded the information on the Hound duty that the Omail had mentioned, then brought himself back to his homepage to analyze it.

Spoiler: K&E Project Suspended (click to show/hide)

Spoiler: So you want to be a hound? (click to show/hide)

....you have a feeling they're not going to be happy until they've got every Oid on their side. They do have a war to win, you guess...

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Striker (click to show/hide)

---

Quote from: Errol on August 06, 2013, 04:39:03 pm

And visit that one certain research institute again. One that didn't ask non-science related questions, that didn't associate with non-science related organizations. Do a systems clean. A virus scan. She shuddered at the thought of getting taken over by the ACS virus... perhaps her routines would be too primitive to hijack, she thought bitterly. But better to be safe than sorry... and she was never going to be a weapon again if she could help it.

You ponder what to do next.

You remember Arma Atamancer Silver at that moment. He had been an old friend of yours, a brave Oid. You saw him the day he got ACS...he was barely himself, and attacked you when you tried to help.

The sight of his tormented visage, begging you to end it while enraged and unable to stop himself, has never entirely faded. In the end, he regained enough of himself to put his combosaw to his own head and...opted out.

You sometimes wonder where ACS came from. Some people say it's just the work of a bitter Human with reason to hate Oids-to make such a horrible virus, that destroys all logic and reason...but keeps a hint of sentience within...it certainly sounds malicious. Others you've heard suggest one of the K&E squads had brought it back with them, and it's only recently mutated. Others even say it's the FIO's, but there's never been much proof of rogue FIO's at all. Unless they're good at hiding it.

You wonder if you would have the courage to end your own existence if it got you...

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Septima (click to show/hide)

---

Quote from: Sentient Bowtie on August 06, 2013, 07:56:28 pm

I'll have one and bring another to Doctor Flannery, Fox thinks.
He flies up to grab them.

~whirrwhirrwhirr~

Your tails begin to rotate rapidly, spinning and creating lift. You hover up the tree effortlessly, reaching out for the strange fruit...

Perception Check 11+5=16 vs 10

It's easy to remove them-and you're careful not to touch the ribbed edges, which your senses tell you actually contains a powerful electromagnetic charge. You assume it's some sort of defense against hungry mechanimals, and Oids like yourself-had you have touched it carelessly, it would likely have knocked you to the ground and hurt pretty badly.

Carrying them carefully by their handle like trunks, you hover back down and set them on the Earth.

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: FOX-01 (click to show/hide)

---

Quote from: IronyOwl on August 06, 2013, 08:14:55 pm

Then it was out the door and wherever the city took her. She was going to enjoy herself tonight if it killed her.

D20 Encounter Roll=11

You opt for a stylish, canary yellow sun dress and a white hat with a floppy brim. Simple yet elegant! You grab your purse and your most comfortable shoes and head out, intent on finding some fun-even if it kills you! Though, maybe that thought is tempting fate...thinking of that, you pack your snub-nosed revolver, not in your purse, but in the compartment in your left leg. No one can tell you're armed by sight alone, which comforts you. You wouldn't want to harm people...and sometimes you almost forget it's there, but never entirely. It's easier to relax.

...

Once you hop in the hovercab, the cabbie asks you where ya want to go, without turning around. You actually don't have to pay him directly-the Council, of course, subsidizes and heavily controls all public transportation.

[D6 Random Location=1]

You mull your options and decide a good meal will set your nerves straight. And then, who knows?

You ask him to swing you around to your favorite eatery, 'Good Receptions'. The name isn't that creative, but they serve the best Synthfood and drink in the city-and they're one of the only places that knows how to make Mechanimal dishes really well.

...

Two hours later, your internals buzz happily. A delicious meal of Mechtrout, lightly electron sauced, with a few glasses of Red Heather's Energy Tank-which is the equivalent of a fine wine to Oids. Oh, it was expensive...but it was worth it!

You'll be full of energy for awhile now. Everyone acted surprised when Oids actually developed the affinity for better vintages of energy. A hearty meal has actually been proven to increase efficiency and energy reserves.

Gained 'Well Fed' Trait
Shop Found! (Information on shops will be added in third post, and you'll be able to visit these places automatically in the future)

-500 SIL

You lean back in your chair, and let your meal settle, wondering where to go next...

The restaurant is fairly empty today, but there are a few people-mostly, Humoids like yourself, and a few adventurous Humans who can stomach the 'specialty dishes'. None of them seem particularly interesting, though a few throw covert glances at you now and again. You smile back.

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: RIU (click to show/hide)

---

Quote from: scapheap on August 07, 2013, 01:42:15 am

Clair looked at the time. She could of swore that it has only been 30 minutes or so. Where did the time go? Looking again at the net address she wonder if she should go like this or change back to her combat armour. To save time she went with what she got and headed to the address

Deciding to get this done and over with, you head back to the barracks-amused as the roboducks crowd around your feet, and follow you and honk insistently, hoping for more feed.

...

You plug yourself into the cyberspace jack-no need for a clunky helmet VR system.

You feel your senses subtly alter...where before there was a room, now it's more like...well, it's hard to describe. The walls and floor are information. You know you're in the Arclite Node, can feel it in your 'bones', though you have no physical form. It's sort of like what a human would describe as an out of body experience. You know that Oids and Humans can upgrade their cyberselves...but for now, you're not much more than a tiny ball of light.

With the slightest thought, you propel yourself through the halls of clean white data, looking for the right door. On the edge of your senses, you can detect place you can't go, or aren't supposed to. The hum of defense systems is steady as rain-they look like masks, you think, for the programmers behind them. If you tried to access an unauthorized area, they'd eject you. Violently. You spot a few FIO's wandering around as well, going about their own business. Most of them have their own bodies, but you can't look close because they're so bright.

The address is close to here, you think, tuning out these distractions.

...

You eventually enter the address. You're a bit shocked-the page is completely dark.

A FIO materializes from the gloom, hands behind her back. It's a woman, right? Made of...streams of 1's and 0's...and cubits of pure energy. In fact, you can't really comprehend what she looks like. Only that she is here and that she just is...and, while she's a bit 'dimmer' than the others you saw earlier...but you don't doubt, this is her realm to command.

She smiles, or perhaps you're merely overlaying information about her mood onto your senses.

"Clair? I had hoped you would be the first..." She says quixotically. Her mouth doesn't move, and her voice is quiet, but nevertheless echoes through your whole body. "My designation is Thinker4Sub1022....but you can call me Yen...and, I believe you're looking for work, yes? And since you're here, I'm guessing you've decided not to put on the Hound Cloak yet, am I correct?"

[IIIIIIIIII]

Spoiler: Clair (click to show/hide)

((OOC: Also, I'm going to need all you guys to bold your actions

I don't really want to guess and maybe be wrong.))

scapheap · « **Reply #57 on:** August 07, 2013, 07:04:31 am »

"You be right. So what your offer, miss Yen?"

Errol · « **Reply #58 on:** August 07, 2013, 07:14:05 am »

Well, on to making something useful out of those robo materials. Then visit the address, if I still have time.

But not without disguise. The last thing that she wanted to happen was to have some algorithm iterate over a database and pull up her file. As far as Septima was concerned, the Arma series should be left in the past. Not dragged into the light of the present. Not standing in the shadow of her past exploits was something Septima... enjoyed.
Thus - a little electronical mask, so to speak. It had cost her a pretty penny on the black market, but had been quite worth the trouble. Not exactly legal, but difficult to detect, and it did a good job at muddling her electronical signature (as far as she understood cyberspace - which wasn't really beyond the basic user's perspective). For the rest... the hood would do. She hoped. And, of course, the fake identity. Septima went over it once again...

As far as the government was concerned, her name was 78b-10262210-RV00. Nickname, Seven. Type, Prototype-Humoid. Age, 17. Designation, Maintenance Worker, but pressed into Paradisium Exploration Corps for four years as part of a crime sentence. Current occupation: Freelance Mechanic, semi-retired.

It was kind of pointless, in a way. Nobody would have posted a notice specifically to Seven's door. Still, on the off-chance...

SOLDIER First · « **Reply #59 on:** August 07, 2013, 07:19:01 am »

Scan the fruits one more time, to be safe. Mark the location of the tree of possible and continue to the institute.

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