>>56700
>These aren’t my last.

>>56700
Tell grimm to lighten up in the next fuck up!

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>>56700
>>These aren’t my last.

>>56700
"Dying in the sky is more than a duster like you could ever hope for, Bron. This isn't how I imagined I'd go. But seeing you from above, a speck of dirt among all the others means I can die a happy man."

>Tell Grimm to lighten up on the next fuck-up.

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>>56794
>>56791
>>56718
>>56796

You have to shout to be heard over the e-turbs. Hot air and dust blow over you as you try and retort.

“These aren’t my last words, Bronson. They won’t even be the last words between you and I!”

“Whatever you say, bucko!”

Bronson signals to the driver of the Yurijet and the ground suddenly whips out from under you. The force of the vehicle yanking you across the landscape of Dirge bounces your chin off the sand, leaving it a ragged and bloody mess. Bronson grows smaller and smaller until you can see him walk away towards a warmed up jet of his own. But there’s little time to dwell on that.

You are tightly chained by your legs to a speeding Yurijet. Your body is somewhat protected by a crash suit designed to protect you in the event that you are thrown from a vehicle across a high friction surface but it is not meant to do this for a prolonged period of time. You can feel it becoming even more unbearably hot with each passing second.

You have a small emergency laser pen in your calf pocket which might be able to sever the chain but you will have to overcome significant G-Forces to reach it. Alternately you could try to wrest yourself free from the ties that bind you, though Bronson and his lackeys were quite thorough in making them secure.

Up ahead the road will cease to be a straight away and become a chicanery instead, passing through a maze of dunes on the way to rock formation known as the Wall.

Roll 1d100 for success. I’ll take the best of three.

>try and cut yourself free
>attempt to wriggle free of the chains
>curl up to try and protect yourself
>accept that you’re going to die
>write-in

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>56815

>curl up to try and protect yourself

(Roll over or roll under?)

>>56815
>>attempt to wriggle free of the chains

No 1's

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>56815
>>56869

Fuck you dice i blame you for my incompetency.

>>56815
>try and cut yourself free
dice+1d100

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>56891
fuck me

>>56836
>>56875
>>56898

Top Roll is a 71.

Writing and waiting for a tiebreaking vote.

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>>56836
>>56869
>>56875
>>56891
>>56898

>Decided to use suggestion from highest roll.

You barely have time before the jet first turn and whips you off the road. Traveling at high speed, your body slaps the surface of the first dune like it’s made of solid rock, throwing up an explosion of sand. Bones reinforced by years of specialized surgery over the course of a storied career don’t break easily but the strike dazes you, something of a blessing as it loosens you up for the second collision.

You can’t see the Yurijet or the road, though you can hear it growing ever louder. The pilot must be putting on speed slowly in order to draw out your torture.

You do your best to loosen the bonds on your legs and succeed in gaining some additional mobility just before your suddenly burst back onto the road again. You’re more prepared for the next turn and you manage to roll in order to minimize the damage though you feel increasingly woozy with each strike.

On an upcoming dune you spot a sheet of protruding metal.

Roll 1d100 for any option, including suicide.

>try and position yourself so that the metal sheet strikes your chains
>attempt to reach out and grab it
>dodge it
>suicide
>write-in

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>57043
>>try and position yourself so that the metal sheet strikes your chains

HERE WE GO

Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>57043
>>try and position yourself so that the metal sheet strikes your chains

post IDs now?

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>57043
>try and position yourself so that the metal sheet strikes your chains

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>>57062
>>57063
>>57083

>73

You do your best to get the chain to strike the rock .... Unfortunately at the last second, the Yurijet yanks you unexpectedly and you get a little too close.

The metal sheet is both strong and sharp. It severs both the chain and the bottom half of your right foot.

Released from the pull of the jet, your momentum continues to carry you over the crest of the dune. For a moment you are weightless... and then you plummet.

Hitting the ground is almost a relief. Your suit secretes emergency coagulants and painkillers around the wound. As you sit up to try and assess, the metal sheet embeds itself in the sand next to you, about three feet from your left hand.

Once the driver realizes you've gotten free, he'll be back to search for you. You're going to have to find some cover or a way to call for help.

Testing your weight on your new stump, you clamber awkwardly to the top of the nearest dune. To the north appears to be a cluster of desert shrubbery that you might try to hide in. To the west is the small settlement you were just dragged out of. To the east is the giant rock formation known as the Wall, with plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in, though it's still distant. To the South seems to be nothing but wasteland.

Roll 1d100

>Go North and try to hide
>Use your metal sheet to try and signal back West
>Attempt to travel on foot to the Wall
>Give up and just collapse
>Write-In

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>57144
>>Attempt to travel on foot to the Wall

>>57159
damn fine roll nig

>this

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>57144
>>Attempt to travel on foot to the Wall
thanks science-foot.

>racing quest
>get hobbled and unable to do more than limp

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>>57159
>>57165
>>57171

>100

You stand up. It's painful to put weight on your right but if you keep it all on the hell you're alright.

A brief search for the other half of your foot is met with success. You stick the gory piece of flesh in a thigh pocket and seal it in.

Gained: Half Foot

You don't have to walk much farther before you find a bent metal pole that will serve nicely as a walking stick.

Gained: Bent metal pole

Despite your injuries you manage to hobble most of the way to the Wall without incident, traveling on the low ground between the dunes. When you do hear the Yurijet, you have the good fortune of doing so before he sees you and hit the deck. The craft passes almost directly over you, hovering just six feet above the dunes. It vanishes around a corner and you don't encounter it again.

At the edge of the Wall, you spot a settlement of some kind. It's carved from the same rock as the Wall itself and is nearly invisible. You also don't recall seeing it on any maps of this region of Dirge.

Not too far to it's south, you see an outcropping of greenery but you'll have to climb to reach it. There might be water there and you are terribly thirsty.

Roll 1d100

>Approach the settlement
>Make your way into the Wall
>Try and climb to the would-be oasis
>write-in

Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>57207
>approach settlement

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>57207
>>Try and climb to the would-be oasis
To the one-percenter garden

>>57216
>>57213

There are no signs of life as you approach the settlement. No one walks the street or peeps at you from the windows. On closer inspection it seems to have been crumbling for a long time.

Unopposed, you enter the largest building and immediately discover why.

>I’ll continue this when I wake up. For now, if you’re interested, I always appreciate bumps.

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>57207
>>write-in
Circle around to see if there are any people nearby.

>>57247
If you check your blog m8

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I'm having my morning (afternoon) coffee and will run when finished for 2-3 hours. Allow 20 more minutes or so.

https://youtu.be/8HWt4keR5U4

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>>57271
>>57265

The bodies are everywhere, sprawled in panicked poses. Draped over chairs, shriveled in corners like dead insects. Light enters the room through barred windows, calmly illuminating the scene of the massacre. The victims are charred but there is no odor, suggesting they died long ago and were preserved by the dry climate of Dirge.
Scattered tools and shattered computer screens suggest that this was the work of Tauran Inquisitors, rooting out tech heretics. Their thorough work has little usable salvage.

You continue to search the settlement, finding the same scene repeated over and over. One small building which you had assumed to be an outhouse turns out to be the entrance to underground living quarters. The rooms have all been forced open but you are able to find several hundred Units of currency and an untouched tank of water, which you guzzle from thirstily.

Gained: 672 Units

Units are universal currency in the Calypso system. One Unit will get you a passable meal and few everyday purchases are more than 10 Units in price.

When satisfied, you use some to wipe the dust and grime from your body and look at yourself in a mirror.

You immediately regret the decision, though it’s nothing a well-paid surgeon couldn’t piece back together.

In the last room, a dead mother and child lay together. They seem to be crawling towards an empty corner, trying to escape into nowhere.

>Return to the surface, attempt to create a signal.
>Search the settlement more thoroughly, try and find what tech the Inquisitors came to purge.
>Seek medical supplies.
>Look for alcohol to help you forget this.
>Write-in

>>58405

Search the settlement more thoroughly, try and find what tech the Inquisitors came to purge.
>Seek medical supplies.
>Look for alcohol to help you forget this.

We're in a pretty safe spot, let's continue to poke around and find someplace safe to sleep tonight.

>>58405
>Look for alcohol to help you forget this.

Is the corner REALLY empty?

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>>58434
>>58417

If you need a place to sleep tonight, these rooms wouldn't be such a shabby choice. They're better accommodations than the Leggy Blonde, excepting the profound lack of food, alcohol, and emergency medical services.

Unsure of whether the mother and child's final positioning was really just a vain gesture, you investigate the corner they were crawling towards. Nothing seems outwardly unusual about it but placing your good foot on it causes the floor panel to creak suspiciously.

You pry it open to uncover a secret tunnel that the Inquisitors must have missed. Descending into it, you find a surprisingly spacious little bunker with canned rations and an open gun locker with rack space for two homemade lasrifles, one of which is absent, along with all the power cells. You take the remaining one and discard your bent metal pole. Even unloaded, a weapon like this could be useful... and it's untraceable.

Gained: LasRifle (Unloaded)

There is a reinforced metal door leading... somewhere. It's locked by some kind of genetic scanner which rejects you.

Roll 1d100

>attempt to jerryrig the power cell from your laser pen to the LasRifle
>Bash the lock in hopes of forcing the door.
>Head back upstairs, try and put together some kind of signalling mechanism
>Write-In

>>58505

Whoa whoa, let's use our head here.

Can we bring the dead lady down here and use her to open the genelocked door?

>>58519

Limping, you head back up to retrieve the woman's body. Carbonized flesh flakes off in your hands and you ultimately settling for just bringing down an arm.

The genetic scanner rejects the arm. It appears incineration has destroyed any remaining genetic material on the corpse.

What would you like to do now?

>write-in

>>58552
One lasrifle is missing.

One of the corpses should have had it when they died...

unless someone still alive still lives here, and is out there with the rifle.

There should be dust disturbances showing if someone's been eating the canned rations.

>>58578

You check the canned rations. It looks like there are three cans missing from a stack but settled dust suggests they were removed some time ago.

Someone must have passed through here but it was probably months ago.

You open one of the cans using your laser pen and sit down to eat and think, forcing down nutrient-rich mush. It tastes vaguely cinnamon flavored.

What now?

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>58592
>attempt to jerryrig the power cell from your laser pen to the LasRifle

Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>58599
me need more rolls.

>>58599
>>58615

You get one more roll. Better hope it's good.

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>58615
Also I guess this locked door mustbe the tech they were after but never found.

Odds of it being a person in a stasis tank if we go full anime.

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>58599

Roll to jerryrig.

Maybe we could look for some noncharred bodies to open the genelock?

There's gotta be some good stuff in there.

>>58599
>>58615
>>58624
>>58625
>45

For lack of a better solution, you decide to try and hook your laser pen's power cell up to the rifle. This is a surprisingly complicated operation, made substantially more difficult by the fact that the pen is Tauran tech. Thankfully, your status as a licensed technician should keep it from exploding in your hands.

You collect half-functional tools from around the settlement and begin the dissection.

It goes well enough at first. You're able to get the power cell out of the pen intact without breaking either it or the pen. Unfortunately, when you attempt to hook the cell up to the rifle, something shorts and the rifle discharges directly into the canned food. Metal shrapnel and flavored mush fly everywhere. When the smoke clears, the cell is completely drained.

Your options are now to signal for help somehow, continue looking for a way to open the door, leave the settlement, or spend the night here waiting for what a new day will bring.

Of course, you might have another bright idea...

>>58625
>noncharred

But they all got killinated the same way. carbonized.

I don't think everyone in the settlement was authorized to get in here anyway. Only some would have been.

>>58654

Hmm. How is the door locked? Is it up on a power grid? Is the scanner accessible for hacking?

I really want to get in there now

>>58649
Well the child's body is carbonized too right.

>>58664
Waitright what is the power source here.

Probably behind the locked door.

>>58649
>the cell is completely drained.

Time to find a USB charger.

I mean this is underground, and we clearly have light to navigate by somehow. Don't recall carrying a lightsource. So there's power.

>>58664
>>58677
>>58669

It seems likely that the door is operating on external power of some kind if it's still functioning after all this time. This suggests some kind of power source in or near the settlement that's intact though it would have to be well hidden to escape the purge. Nuclear power seems unlikely, as radiation would have been a dead giveaway unless it was extensively shielded and you don't see the kind of infrastructure for that around here...

If you cut the power, there is a chance the door might release. Additionally, it might be possible to recharge your power cell.

The scanner itself seems secure and there are no visible wires.

>>58669

The child is just as charred as it's mother. You do find a few half-burnt documents in the room which are all addressed To the Administrator. You assume the Administrator would have the authority to get past the lock but you can't find any preserved genetic material in the living quarters.

>>58700
How is Tarren seeing in this bunker and back in the living quarters.

Aren't there lights down here.

Tear into the walls and find that wiring.

>>58745

There are lights on down here but the walls are concrete; this is a small bunker, so tearing apart the walls isn't very viable.

Note: I'm going to shower and head to work, I should be home late tonight (approximately 7 hours from now) and I will resume the thread based on any suggested courses of action made in my absence.

>>58793

Well, seems clear that we should track down the Administrator here. He'll have access to the genelock and beyond that, probably knew more about the tech heresy happening here.

>>58948
>track down
>He
Anon, are you... do you have brain problems.

> You do find a few half-burnt documents in the room which are all addressed To the Administrator.
In this room. In which only one adult was found, who knew about and was trying to reach the Administrator's secret bunker tunnel.

Almost as if there's a 99% chance this was her living quarters and therefore she is the Administrator, and we already found there's no DNA left in that charred body.

>>58700
Where else would there be genetic material.

Uh. A medical station or something on the surface.

And maybe uh... they use hydro power from the water near that greenery from earlier.

Or the source is somewhere on the surface.

We lost the can opener laser's power cell so can't open the lock's casing too easily.

>>59166

Those are all good points, but that doesn't mean the corpse is actually the Administrator.

>>62373
If everything is burninated how exactly would you identify any Administrator if not by its presence in the Administrator's living quarters. They're all shriveled husks.

If location and knowledge of something secret doesn't indicate the Administrator, what other property possibly could.

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>>62567
>>62373
>>62272
>>59166
>>58948

It seems to you that the woman must be the Administrator but the fact that someone else was down here hints that perhaps someone else had knowledge of this hidden place. A spouse? Or maybe just a lucky scavenger. If it's the latter, there's a chance they'll come back...

You mull the possibilities, increasingly mournful for the lack of alcohol on hand. You wash your foot periodically with water but without a stronger antiseptic on hand the danger of infection and potentially gangrene is very real.

There are plenty of buildings in the settlement you haven't explored yet. While the Inquisitors would likely have destroyed anything meeting their low standards of mechanical and digital sophistication (indeed, you have already committed some tech heresy by attempting to hook your power cell to the rifle (but not so severe that you would be executed; a confession of your crimes and the purchase of an Indulgence would likely result in exculpation)) but inert objects like bandages or say, a blood bank, might have gone untouched.

On the other hand, finding a power source with which to replenish your power cell and/or cut power to the bunker door might reveal an entire cache of medical supplies.

You return to the surface with these thoughts on your mind and spot several points of light darting about on the horizon like dragonflies over a cool pond. Those are undoubtedly jets; civilization is out of reach but only just. If you had a means of transportation, you might be able to leave this place and get far enough away to begin plotting your revenge on Bronson and Grimm... or simply off-planet.

Roll 1d100, I'll take best of 3

>try and construct a signal
>look for a hospital or doctors office of some kind
>head up to the maybe-oasis
>write-in

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>62858

>look for hospital

We should get that foot fixed up

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>62858

>>62858
>>look for a hospital or doctors office of some kind

Wizard needs food badly.

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>63007

Tell her to quit

>>63078
Who are you talking to?

Do you want to romance that one-armed shriveled husk on the floor, propose marriage, and then tell her to quit that Administrator job so she can cook and take care of your kids?

>>63021
>>63007
>>62962
>>62935
>99

>search for hospital

It happens to be the first building you walk into. Like the others, it is littered with the dead but here they are positioned neatly in beds. You wonder how many were conscious when the Inquisitors arrived...

In the back are plenty of supplies. Bandages, antiseptic, crutches, and painkillers are available for the taking and you make liberal use of all of them. There's even a bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of one of the doctor's offices; 88 proof.

Warmer and happier, you find yourself wandering into a large room that appears to have been a blood bank. This could be a big break in your search for genetic material, assuming the blood hasn't spoiled completely since the refrigeration failed.

It looks as though each resident had some blood here in reserve in case of emergency. However, all of them are labeled by name and you have no idea which blood would belong to the Administrator. All the digital records on the premises have probably been destroyed but you recall seeing a few locked file cabinets several rooms back...

>force some file cabinets and search for medical records that would indicate who the Administrator was (will take several hours)
>Head up to the "oasis"
>Attempt to construct some kind of signal before the sun sets
>Write-in

>>63169
>>force some file cabinets and search for medical records that would indicate who the Administrator was (will take several hours)

We've got time

>>63251

Treat your foot too!

>>63285
He did.

>you make liberal use of all of them.

>>63169
So the death rays also burn up the clothes and any ID that would be on the bodies?

No picture frames or things with signatures on them were in the room.

>>63251
>>63285
>>63420
>>63460


Forcing open cabinet after cabinet is surprisingly slow and difficult work. They’re constructed just well enough to give you trouble, even with the assistance of a salvaged prybar. The files themselves are heavy and it takes several seconds of skimming before you can pull the occupation from each one. The only consolation is that your foot is feeling considerably better now that you’re sitting down (not that the whiskey hurts).

It occurs to you that you could go back to the living quarters and attempt to cross-reference various half-disintegrated documents to try and narrow down the possibilities but you’re not willing to admit that the time which this would save would probably be worth the painful hobbling back and forth. The result is that the search for the correct files takes several hours. By the time you find Julie Arnett’s file, the sun has set and the desert has begun to grow cold.

Gained: Administrator’s Blood Sample

>head back to the living quarters, bed down
>try and climb to the “oasis” by night
>head back to the bunker, try and apply the blood sample
>write-in

>>63651
>head back to the bunker, try and apply the blood sample

>>63651
>>head back to the bunker, try and apply the blood sample

Haha time for FAST

>>63651
>>head back to the bunker, try and apply the blood sample

>>63669
>>63773
>>63803


You bite the bullet and drag yourself back through the living quarters and down to the bunker. The look accepts the smeared offering of blood almost too quickly, flashing green and clicking open. You pull it back to reveal a long hallway with steel walls and a ceiling that's an unspeakable mess of cables. A large screen is mounted on the right wall in the center of the hallway, showing nothing but bouncing polygons in a void.

At the end of the hallway is another door and beyond that, a hangar in which a jet sits, a two-seater. It would be heresy to pilot it but no one needs to know… you can ditch it outside of a town somewhere.

Just as you’re about to lurch forward another step, a man’s voice speaks behind you, an exceptionally clear baritone.

“Wait.”

You turn. There’s no one there.

“Take me with you.”

The voice appears to be coming from the screen. A recording?

>Investigate the screen
>Take the vehicle and leave. This place is too spooky for you.
>Head back to the settlement, you can get out of here without committing heresy.
>Write-in

>>63921

>Investigate the screen

Although this is almost certainly a bad move for us, in-character.

>>63921
>>Investigate the screen

We have an AI, that's double heresy.

Polygon-san pls

>>63921
>cables
Well somewhere here is a place to recharge that dang power cell. Maybe we'll even find out what it's running on.

>>63921
>>Investigate the screen

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1.21 MB JPG

>>63945
>>63952
>>64023

>Investigate the screen

As you approach the screen, the polygons associate together to form something like a very disjointed face.

"Take me."

A slim mechanical arm emerges from under the screen, holding a data chip the size of your thumb.

"What are you?"

"I am named Patroclus. I am an intelligence."

"An AI."

A pause.

"Yes."

>take the AI with you
>bash the screen in
>ask it a question
>write-in

>>64109
>Take the AI with you

>>64109

"Can I trust you?"

Please note that any reasonable intelligence would probably say something like, "no, you shouldn't trust a dangerous heretical AI. But let's be real, I'm worth a fortune."

>>64109
>>ask it a question
Do you have any idea how much heresy your existence is?

Also, what was this place?

>>64109
Wait.
>named Patroclus
>Tanzer's heel is injured
Husbandbro located.

>>64131
>>64132

There are a million things you could ask right now and the possibilities contrive to short circuit your brain.

"Can... Can I trust you?"

"An AI cannot lie."

"Really?"

"No."

"Like "no they cannot" or "no they can"."

"I abide by the rules of human syntax, if nothing else. Now, take me."

The mechanical arm jiggles the datachip enticingly.

"I can't. You're... heresy."

"One of your human thinkers once said, 'Discrete heresy is the same as no heresy at all, in practice.' "

"Yeah... Luka. Taurus burned him for that."

"A brilliant proof. If he hadn't told anyone, he'd have died of old age."

A fair point.

>take the datachip
>walk away
>ask another question
>write-in

>>64237
>ask another question

Why were you made anyway. Why did Arnett have a secret lab and escape jet.

QM you haven't checked your blog in a month have you.

ask.fm seems busted.

>>64237

>ask another question

Wait this too.

Do you know anything about who was scavenging in the bunker before? There were things missing.

>>64237
>>take the datachip

>>64349

No, though I thought I cleared my ask.fm backlog yesterday. The last month has been very busy and creative time has been given over pretty much entirely to working out the circumstances of WW3 in A Deucalion (The Exterminator Quest setting). Why, oh why, did I make it a tripolar war?

>>64272
>>64362
>>64420

"Who made you?"

"I've been asked not to disclose that."

Fine.

"Who was in the bunker earlier? Did someone pass through here before me?"

"You'll soon discover for certain that someone did but again, I'm not going to disclose whom."

"I could leave you here, you know."

"That would be acceptable, even if I'd rather you didn't. All I'd ask is that you pull that red cable in the ceiling. No one wants to live forever."

DECISION TIME

>take the chip
>don't take the chip, pull out the cable
>don't take the chip, leave the cable in

>>64437
>>take the chip

>>64437
>>take the chip
Well great, that basically confirms that the scavenger is a survivor of the settlement, and not a random scavenger.

The question remains if that person could get inside this vault if they wanted to or not.

>>64437
>I cleared my ask.fm backlog yesterday.
Well yeah.

That has nothing to do with it being busted, which prevents new asks being sent.

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>>64525

That's extremely odd. There doesn't seem to be anything in the settings that would cause that.

>>64478
>>64490

You swallow and then pull the chip free. Somehow, this is scarier than being pulled behind a speeding jet and smashed through dunes.

The screen shuts off immediately and the lights in the corridor turn off, leaving only the rays from the hangar.

It’s larger than you first realized and there’s an empty space where it looks as though a second jet once sat… You recall from Julie Arnett’s file that she did have a spouse. A programmer. You'll have to bring that up with Patroclus the next time you plug him in (if you plug him back in).

For now, you hoist yourself into the jet. It's disorientating; the controls and read outs are all wrong but you quickly overcome your bias for Tauran tech and intuit it all. The e-turbs come online without issue and the power cells are full. You do one final diagnostic before launching the exit protocol.

The hangar doors pull back, revealing the blue sands of the desert by night. You press your crutch down on the throttle and push towards the speed of sound, calm for the first time in years.

https://youtu.be/-ecNe7eS-F8

>End of Part 1

Will follow up this post with a lore dump in the morning. There's plenty of it but I want to do a quick review before posting (I haven't looked at it in months).

For now, I'll answer what I can and then sleep.

>>64592
Well yeah it's not just your ask.fm, it's ask.fm itself.

>>64607

I will write them an angry letter. Also, I didn't have time to write up my HRC conspiracy for you today. Too busy with this and myriad other responsibilities.

>>64592
We could only find the seemingly optimum plot relevant path hidden behind two writeins.

Who could have even answered the hitchhiker signal.

And how hard was suicide earlier.

>>64636
Also I forgot to ask Patroclus how the power was still on down here.

Do you even know about the perma archive m8

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html

Doesn't look like the major archives have started any auto-archiving of /qst/ though.

>>64636

Proper suicide required 50 or above on one of the three rolls. Not very difficult, though failing would have been quite painful. Attempting it at all would have changed the outcome of the quest dramatically, though I wouldn't have ended the thread.

Depending on what kind of signal you made (reflective, smoke, some kind of jerryrigged transmitter) you probably would have had a chance of contacting a nearby settlement, passing civilian air traffic, Bronson, or bandits.

Power was external but Patroclus managed the grid.

And I did not give optimum choices because I don't like doing that all the time. Strangely, it kept you more on the rails than usual.

>>64651

[red ]Nope. I am literally too tired and lazy to archive right now and I wouldn't want to until after this gratuitously long lore post I have in the wings. You'll probably like it, I took some stylistic cues from WH40k.[/red]

>>64668
>I took some stylistic cues from WH40k

No.

I would never have guessed.

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>>64674

Don't worry, I didn't take too much inspo. My paper-thin understanding of WH40k made that more or less impossible.

>>58505
>and it's untraceable.

Wait. They have traceable laserburns.

Being death rayed is actually having a serial number seared into your skin over and over?

>>64668
>this gratuitously long lore post I have in the wings
Just how large are these wings.

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>>71241
>>64914
>>64592

In the tenth millennium, humanity entered an epoch known as the “Apex”. It was, according to those who followed behind it, the pinnacle of civilization. There was no war, no poverty, and no totalitarianism. Humanity colonized the solar system and multiplied, guided by benevolent AIs. It was a romantic time, an era of new frontiers, and it lasted only as long as it took for the spheres to begin to crowd.

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>>71608
By the middle of the eleventh millennium, the survivors had achieved an uneasy peace by exhaustion. There were barely resources left to continue civilization, let alone war. All remaining military forces had to retreat to try and restore law and order to their own homes.

Before they did so, they signed the Pax Sol, a peace agreement which set down the four accords that would govern humanity thenceforth. First was the reimplementation of democracy across the planets. Second, the outlawing of weapons capable of planetary destruction. The third was the creation of a new interplanetary forum, from which would later arise the Federation of Sol. And the final rule was the outlawing of all true AI.

>>71608
That didn't seem very long--

>>71608
Oh you're spreading them out so you can post images.

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>>71613
Decades passed before humanity realized that peace had come too late. Though there was still time remaining, centuries perhaps, extinction was inevitable. The remaining resources were simply too few to sweep away the fallout of the Solar War and its deadly combination of plagues, rogue AIs, political turmoil, and still in-transit doomsday kinetics. With death at their doorstep, the governments of the Spheres put aside their differences and pooled what they had left into the Federation of Sol.

The Federation proved a powerful entity, restoring law and order wherever it went and reestablishing economic ties as best it could. Humanity took advantage of the brief reprieve it provided to remember back to the Apex and what little they remembered of history before then. A conclusion was drawn that neatly coincided with the discovery of FTL travel; humans could co-exist only when combating external threats or in a state of expansion. It was decided that if Sol were to every be restored, expansion was an absolute necessity.

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>>71619
The result was that over a millennium ago, the Epistle left humanity’s native solar system behind, merely one of a dozen ships assigned to colonize assigned portions of the galaxy and funnel their resources back to ravaged Sol. The Epistle and her fellows were vast, had billions aboard, and were equipped with experimental FTL technology that made them capable of traveling outside of space itself.

As the expected transit time was short, the ships were outfitted to the stark minimums that ravaged Sol could afford, carrying no terraforming equipment nor the ability to make a second trip.

That essential infrastructure was to be constructed upon arrival, in the tertiary stage of colonization. Before that, the colonists would need to establish a mining operation and from the resources it produced and then fabricate the industry necessary to even begin on such advanced projects.

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>>71631

At the point just prior to the Epistle’s departure, conditions within Sol were so terrible that there was concern that the colonization effort might bankrupt the system of its ability to support life even faster. Fierce debate between the internal factions of the Federation ensued. Protocols for whatever might be encountered were created until all were satisfied that there was no other variable to be accounted for save the colonists themselves. That topic became a fixation: how to guarantee that the colonists would not mutiny and abandon dying Sol.

The measures enacted were harsh. Prospective colonists were screened for loyalty and then subjected to additional pro-Sol indoctrination processes. They were not allowed to travel with their families or friends, instead being allowed only a list of three persons who might be sent after them following a successful colonization effort. Similarly, their personal assets were seized by the government and held in escrow until the process of sending resources back to Sol began. They were told that all this was the necessary price to pay for their escape from the old worlds. That idea was accepted, without question.

But this proved insufficient to calm the anxiety of those who would stay behind. The fear of betrayal was too great and so it was ordained that highly advanced A.I.s would be attached to each mission to guide it, an admitted violation of the Pax Sol justified by ensuring the survival of the system. These A.I.s would be the most advanced since the time of the Apex and the decision to implement them was not without controversy, as some believed A.I.s to be responsible for the end of that very era. Those critics were silenced by others who pointed out that mission failure would mean the end of this era as well and that the time for ethical soul-searching was an unavailable luxury.

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>>71641
The resulting machines were known as Overseers and each was branded with a name derived from ancient astrology, a system for divining fate based on a geocentric reading of the stars and planets. These Overseers controlled all aspects of life aboard a colony ship and all the machines of a new colony were supposed to be built with an override that the Overseer could use to shut them down if the colonists attempted to turn against their rule. The Overseers themselves could only be shut down by an override device sent from Sol and it was promised that they eventually would be… as soon as the home system was capable of standing on its own again.

One thousand two hundred and twenty eight years ago, the Epistle arrived in the wrong place. Neither Sol nor the target system could be located, despite the efforts of the frantic crew and the Overseer, Taurus. Uncertain of where they themselves were, the prospect of sending materials or even a message back to Sol became an impossibility. So too did the shutdown of Taurus.

In this way the Calypso system was settled.

>>71649

And that's all I'm going to post for now. I'll probably run another thread in 1-2 weeks. I'm hoping to devote the next couple of days to A Deucalion and various job interviews. If you don't know the twitter it's @qmsimmons for announcements embedded in an unsteady stream of crap.

I'm not going to be posting more content in this thread but I will check for questions etc.

>>71664
Are you not going to archive it then and consign its contents to the void.

Don't really trust myself to describe it appropriately.

>>75052
Sometimes I think reader archiving would be better but I am the kind of person who picks up after his dog, even if it's a few days later.

>>80220
I barely know anything about the quest this early on I can't handle the pressure.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Mach%20Quest
Also you have to shill it so people can find it like this due to suptg's interface.

Wonder if it needs the collective game tag like everyone else uses. Redundant unless qstarchive might merge back into main suptg archive in the future.

We can only hope.

>>64592
Wait what was the possibility of actually finding the power source somehow and possibly killing Patroclus unwittingly.

Would that even make the door moveable.

Did the oasis matter.

>>80620

>finding and deactivating power source

This opens the door, kills the Patroclus, and in no way jeapardizes the plot. You also could have recharged your power cell and may have had to fight.

All in all, I was surprised by how non-violent the thread turned out.