Try to stop dying or at least wake up to do something about my dying.
Name: Dr. Bob
Species: Deerman
Description: Average looking for someone of his species.
Preferred Gravity: Medium
Preferred atmosphere: oxygen
Previous occupation: Geneticist
Miscellaneous: Would prefer not to be here.
Inventory:
Phone
(3)
The afterlife you have contacted is experiencing technical difficulties. Please hold for the next available representative. Estimated wait time, 31, 353 hours 34 minutes 16 seconds. Your time is important to us. Please hold for the next available representative. You wake up at the end of this turn with your head completely wrapped in guaze and slathered in ointment. Something is broken, but bound, and you are disoriented as fuck and feel like vomitting, but suspect that doing so would not end well for you in your current state. You paw at your face, only to find that both your hands are similarly ointmented and bound.
"Precious ammonia!"
Get to those ammonia ports and breathe deep!
Name: Sirirx
Species: Vetan
Turns of Ammonia Left: (!!1!!)
Description: An old-timey space suit filled with eternally writhing eels.
Preferred Gravity: High
Preferred atmosphere: Ammonia
Previous occupation: Marrow Farmer
Miscellaneous: These crewmates look kinda tasty...
"Precious ammonia!"
Get to those ammonia ports and breathe deep!
follow Srirx to find and breathe ammonia
(1)The two of you scramble into the atmospherics booth in a comic, two stooges style pushing match. You refill on ammonia. The scent of Generic Pine Flavored Cleaning Disinfectant and Industrial Solvent
TM fills your inhalatory ports. It stings. Well, it's better than asphyxiation, I suppose. You attempt to tur nto unlock the air booth only ot find that you are jammed tightly. You can't even reach the door panel to order the release.
Zygomuc begins an advance on the dead mouse and cat at the top of the spacesuit, being mindful not to let their Basidiomycotanian rival's spores take root on them or their meal(s) first.
(4) the cat disaappears from the spacesuit long before you make any progress. The dead mouse remains smeared across the suit's faceport though, dripping some delicious nectars onto your filaments occasionally, which you manage to get the bulk of over your fungaloid foe. Dominance of the lower external appendical portions of the suit is within your grasp!
Look at the lit hallway, then back to the AI.
"Well, it looks like someone beat me to it. My fingers are twitching real bad. Is there any booze on this station? "
go to where the AI direct me to go.
(4)
"booze? Of course there is! What kind of pirate ship goes anywhere without booze? You can find many varieties in the general crew mess halls' storage cabins. The quartermaster will assign you an allotment, which you can redeem at mess hall #3alpha, which is three flights up the main stairwell, first door on the left, or at any of the other crew mess halls as well!" The A.I. gives you afdditional direcetions to the quartermaster's ofice, which you find wiht relative ease. It is, however, unlit and locked, a "take a number" dispenser presenting the number "qualeph," waving it expectantly at you.
Red dot! My mortal enemy! We meet again at last! You may have eluded me all those times before, but this time it will be different! This is the time I will finally catch you and consume you, the day I shall taste your glowy flesh! Charge! Catch the red dot! Kill kill kill! This is the moment I've dreamed about!
Name: Mr. Koff (pronounced "cough") / "Big Boi"
Rank: Vice Captain/Chief of Staff
Species: Cat
Description: An adult, slightly chubby, short-haired grey cat with green eyes. Has a hoarse, grouchy meow.
Preferred Gravity: Medium
Preferred atmosphere: Oxygen
Previous occupation: Chief Mouser
Miscellaneous: Humans still take cats with them in their long voyages for company and pest control, though the pests they chase are somewhat more troublesome. This one stuck his head somewhere he wasn't supposed to and ended up here.
(1) you launch off the suit's shoulder as it rushes toward the atmospherics kiosk, only to be suddenly propelled to the left and pinned to the wall in a bundle of sticky fibres that smell faintly of lavender.
"Target neutralized. Administering disciplinary measures, per standard quadrant 37-c6 beta ethical procedures, as outlined in the Galactic Gamblers' Guide to Taxxes IV Hold 'Em, volume 2." A thin squirt of rather dirty water drizzles out of a nozzle two feet away from your face, plopping into the dust and carpet of the hallway, leaving a muddy puddle.
"N#g$ty Kixxxy. ^augh( Kit~." The speakers pronounce in staticky monotone.
"Disciplinary coourse complete. Subject compliance satisfactory. administering cetification of completion and standard tier one reward, as outlined in the aforementioned Treatise on Proper Workshop Layout and Maintenance, volume 3." A small, blackened bead drops from a port on the ceiling onto your head, bouncing off and falling out of sight below. whatever it was, it had no discernable smell. Moments later, a second pellet falls onto your head, bounces off, and sticks to the fibers enmeshing you.
Travel to the medbay and search for the crew mate allegedly in a first aid kiosk in that area
Name: Tamatoa
Species: Coconut Crab
Description: A large crab, bluish-purple in color in most places except his back, which is more of an orange...sorta plaid theme. Has two arms with pincers, five legs and one stump where the sixth leg used to be (although I don’t remember if crabs have six or eight legs normally), two swiveling eyestalks with more human-like eyes, and a mouth that also resembles that of a human
Preferred Gravity: Medium
Preferred atmosphere: Oxygen and water are both acceptable
Previous occupation: Hoarding
Miscellaneous: Loves all things SHINY and has no regard for any inner qualities.
(3) you find the crewperson (Zultan's character). You don't know that much about mammals or whatever, but you are pretty sure things aren't supposed to bend that way. The hologram nearby wearing a stethoscope awaits your command. "Uh ... fix him?" You suggest.
"right away, sir. CODE GREY!" the hologram suddenly shouts. The sudden loud noise is followed by dozens of tubes, mechanical arms, and guaze dispensers pouring out of the walls, sometimes literally. Of the ones that don't fall into a puddle on the floor, one or two poke randomly at the body, which twitches and moans in reply, two actually seem to straighten and bandage whatever was most damaged, and one applies a very liberal heap of ointment onto the creature's face, wrapping the head in comical amounts of shockingly pristine medical gauze.
"Baby Shark.FLAC detected. Oh. Oh no. It's stuck on infinite loop..."
Unit-37 goes completely still
"Initiating emergency debugging mode"
Reboot into emergency safe/debug mode and attempt to purge the baby shark song.
If succesful, go and find the primary ship systems and enable those that seem to require enabling.
If unsuccesful, scream while attempting a full factory reset.
Name: Sanitation And Maintenance Unit 37
Species: Roomba with extreme upgrades
Description: Unit 37 started out as a simple, circular roomba for the workspace of a certain scientist. Said scientist amused himself with upgrading unit 37 piece by piece, to enable it to take on more cleaning duties, and eventually general maintance as well. Now it looks like a bulky humanoid industrial frame, wearing a grey boilersuit with SANITATION in bold letters. It's only distinguising traits from your run of the mill industrial cleaning bot is that it has one flexible, extendible tentacle attached to the back (to clean those hard to reach spots) and that its head is a a recased Roomba with one big glowing camera for an eye. The tentacle has three gripper claws and an nozzle to dispense cleaning fluid.
Preferred Gravity: Medium
Preferred atmosphere: Anything non-corrosive (and clean)
Previous occupation: Maintenance and sanitation bot, Roomba (formerly)
Miscellaneous: Has somehow picked up a rather dainty apron somewhere that it has been wearing while on the ship. It's a dainty shade of light purple and says "Chortle, Cherish, Clean".
(5) your debug mode seems to work. When you reboot, you are no longer hearing Baby Shark, are dresed in only a n apron, and are vacuuming a single stretch of pristine carpet 9surrounded by perfectly filthy carpet completely untouched) in an unfamiliar room.
(6) You locate the nearest major ship system and go to it's control room, activating all the ship's weapons systems one by one. Naturally they immediately launch into DEFCON 3 and begin firing into the void. You have no way of knowing what they are shooting at, if they are hitting, or what the response will be. Satisfied with a job well done, you turn your attention to the next ship's system: The chemical plant. You are dangerously low on Pine Flavored Disinfectant and Organic Scented Aerosol Odor Obscurant.
Examine my surroundings for any crew, alive or dead. If none can be found, attempt to seek out the chief of staff. He has a way of bending Loggerheads to his will.
Name: Bubbles
Rank: Chaplain
Species: Harvester
Description: A robot shaped like a centipede, with blades, surgical, and masonry tools replacing the first three pairs of legs. Its 'antennae' have been replaced by a pair of bubble cameras.
Preferred Gravity: Medium
Preferred atmosphere: Any non- corrosive (though organic particulate is appreciated.)
Previous occupation: Flesh Logger, (briefly) Cargo
Miscellaneous:
Was salvage payment from few jobs back. Eventually became Chaplain during a fad of "religious accessibility". The engravings on the chapel walls grow by one inch every year, in the direction of the hydroponics bay.
(5) you discover the ship's morgue. it's chock full of crew remains and religious opportunities. An information desk has a visitors' logbook appended. the screen blinks softly in blue, awaiting your signature.
Eh, it will do.
Start burning the mold away in the kitchen with my makeshift flamethrower.
(3) You blacken some mold, spewing dust and smoke into the air and failing to increase the percentage of your body that is burned. Yo manage to clear the doors of the refrigerator/freeze of much of the mold, leaving behind the evidence of your passing as you go.
Life Support: UNKNOWN. Oxygen seems okayish, if a bit thin
Engines: UNKNOWN. presumed functional, as gravity works. Also, power is functional, because if it weren't you and about half the planet you are allegedly orbiting would be vapor
Gravity: currently functional. you stick to the floor, somehow.
Life Support: UNKNOWN
Navigation: Functional.
Communications: UNKNOWN
Sensors: UNKNOWN
Weaponry: Online: firing
A.I: irritable. snarky.
Medical: UNKNOWN
crew quarters: UNKNOWN
Chemical Plant:EXTANT
Cargo: UNKNOWN
Captain: Sirix "Andre" 3000. Eelsuit
Vice Captain/Chief of Staff: Mr. "Big Boi" Koff. Cat
First Officer: UNFILLED
Chief of Medicine: UNFILLED
Quartermaster: UNFILLED
Master Engineer: UNFILLED
Navigator: "David Freeman." Currently in the guise of Tamatoa, a large crab.
Janitor: UNFILLED
Financial Officer: UNFILLED
Communications Officer: UNFILLED
Sensor Tech: UNFILLED
Ship's Dentist: Unit 37
Chaplain: Bubbles
Cook: UNFILLED
Other: UNSPECIFIED
Author
Topic: Mold Farmers in Space (Read 45925 times)