Discord
09-22-2022, 01:15 AM
Dear listener, that's quite a fun pick. And honestly, in most situations that'd be quite a compelling and long form theme to use. I think you may have made an oversight, though. Unless of course, you intend to play with matches by the munitions stockpile. Messing with the memories and personality, of a weapon distanced from its origin. Of something meant to burn through the sort of space such as this. It's a way you get things falling apart. As such...we're going to handle this a bit weird.
We're going to swap the point of view at some parts of this broadcast, to a native, and to a lost soul. This broadcast's action is reaching it's end, and I feel that if it'll be going off with such a bang...it'd be boring to only give it from the perspective of the gun.
So, shall we be off? Yes. You don't really have a say in this, short of barging into the station and whisking the microphone away from me and...
...well, you aren't doing that so, we'll be off. And to hell with it, we'll give you second person narration. It's on the house. Except there aren't any houses...so it's nowhere.
---
Your shuttle crashes through the station wall and into the subspace. After the thundering explosion, the dimension recoils at its new wound. It shudders and shrieks with a sound like glass breaking mixed with a cough and a squeal. You'd be lying if you said it was the worst you've heard. You think about what's next.
You really are not a fan of rescue missions. Well, you do them of course, but...your job's a lot harder than some organizational rescuer, who's just meant to get out who they think qualify as 'people' or their 'client' or whatever.
The issue isn't just finding the people who sent out the call. If there's a creature or abnormality involved, there's a chance it's not hostile, there's a chance it's a person. Something you can communicate with and find ground with. Most of them don't 'choose' to exist here, and even the dimensional subspace and any semblance of a 'ruler' it may have might not even have a semblance of responsibility for the intertwining of it and the pocket of the 'real' world. They can be just as confused as those who sent out the emergency beacon. Unfortunately, sometimes you have to forcibly the ones who called you here or the abnormalities abound. Sometimes is a lot of the times, given you look like a scary death weapon that just shot into their home. To be fair, you are. Not all abnormal spaces are dangerous, but some are incredibly harmful to organic life. Some entities can interact in ways they think are harmless, which will bring long-lasting harm. Some places are more abstract or intangible and can influence things in ways that are harder to notice. You're not exactly perfectly compliant with 'normal' space yourself. Gives you a sorta sixth sense in a way.
And you've got the feeling this place is trying to dig up the past. To put on a play. Really, you have the firepower to break this place open. Honestly kind of self destructive of the space to do that...presuming it's sapient. Hell, if it is, you. Well you can't know until you see evidence. Just, need to find what you can, keep what you can safe. And avoid smashing through things. Toying with destruction is rarely good. Luckily, most of your past is various shades of sticking to your gun. Unfortunately, the earlier ones from back when you weren't independent...were more literal. And given what this place looks like...
Labyrinthine echoes...of what was likely the station's prior schematic. You might have to blast some paths for you and your shuttle. Luckily you still seem to be able to make some scans of the immediate surroundings. Seems mostly empty. You get to work shearing through walls to carve space for your vessel beyond the shimmering entry crater and through the nearby walls. No immediate signs of your quarry. No signs of injured abnormalities either. If this place ends up collapsing, you need to have a tabs on them so you can help them out. Hopefully your sensors are working properly, as you don't have much else you can do short of divorcing from your vessel. And...given it's value to you, you'd rather not lose it. Might not even help in the first place.
You press on. A ranger alone, doing what it can do in a place where things have crashed together, leaving behind piles of shattered glass and slag in the wake of its search. It seems the place thinks you're on some sort of march, it's even giving you a little tune. Orderly and sharp, yet with the tune of a music box? Is it a metaphor? A theme. The march goes on. This is going to take a while.
---
Elsewhere, another consciousness lingers. It's form and shape fluid, but its natural poise is something stolen by the dimension, from the memories of a new entrant, a memory of something long lost to the fire of combat. Without the gift of much memory or the knowledge of much else, the entity is mostly left with a vague sense of general knowledge and that sense is screaming. Screaming that the loud and thunderous cascade of fire in the distance is something to avoid. That the space's quaking means this place isn't safe. There is a need to be somewhere else. Find. Something, else.
It is gifted with a slipperiness, an ability to slip as shadows do, and to go between unseen places. It is running itself as fast as it can, trying to find something OTHER. Something that. Isn't the thundering intrusion, but...maybe another way out? It tries to wander away from the action, yet it cannot get a scent, until...something, orange. Something, citrus? It doesn't think that's true. Something other than the other native presences that it has seen. Subdued, erratically filled with the nature of the space. It makes its way closer, sneaking up behind. It sees an opportunity. Perhaps? It could, sever the tie of that intangible string. It makes an attempt. It misses. The figure lurches, noticing the consciousness odd nature, resembling a memory of a distortion of a distortion. The puppeted citrus smell seems to gurgle something. Nothing words. It draws a knife. The shade lunges again, in a natural feeling way, the knife failing to make contact with something that isn't really there, as the string is pulled until it snaps, each individual strand breaking under the tension of something between the lines.
The figure collapses. Unfortunate. The shade carries it, for the time being, searching for some other thing, away from the distant sound of thundering...
and it eventually, after more sculking about, smells more. It carefully approaches, carrying the former puppet. The figures unfortunately notice it quickly, despite its form somewhat shrouding the cargo. They seem relieved in a sense, before reconsidering. They eye the sort of phantom oddly. It tries to say something. It's not sure they heard, but it asks if they know a way out. There is no response. It waves. They...wave back. It supposes that's something. They seem to try to say something. It's, understandable, vaguely. Something about going? Yes. That's right. It tries to nod, but...it's a touch too amorphous and monochrome for that to have decipherable meaning, at the moment. It figures, it will lead the way, listening for a way out.
---
A IT worker begrudgingly follows some odd thing. She thinks it might be a glitch? It brought back her old cards rival who seemed to have walked off in a storm, despite you all being lost in what seems to be a maze of endless library. She's glad they're back. Alongside her mentor, it's a pretty good team to try to figure out a solution...though. One's unconscious. A glitch in reality? Maybe. That's, what caused. This. So another one, two wrongs make a right? She's not really sure. Everything feels blurry.
---
A captain fixes its hat. The doctor'd fucked off, seeming in a trance. Awfully strong and resisting your best efforts to convince him to stay with you. Seemed to think this was a conflict zone. The loud impact and the thuds following it seem to back that but...the place he mentioned was one that's not around anymore. He pushed you away and wandered off. Your cyber chief seems to be lost in something else. Thinks this is a library? No. This is a corruption of, realspace? You wish you paid attention at that fucking seminar on abnormal spaces. This one seems like a messy sort. You're not sure you'll find your way out, but...this shade. Feels different. This place seems to be something messing with memory. You think maybe, something else has gotten mixed in. A memory of that, loud crash? Could be a worse abnormality, really. You, could go either way, but that one is carrying your friend so. You'll follow it for the time being. It seems docile, and isn't currently causing this place to shake and tremble...and.
...you bet on the right horse apparently. It seems there's a tear that's built up nearby. to...realspace. You dig out your emergency EVA gear, before motioning at the shade and the body. It...seems to get the idea, after you repeatedly gesture at what you've done and your doctor's bag. The chief seems to say something about PPE and working with, welding? Why did they weld in a library. Anyway, they put on EVA too. Good enough. You slip through the tear.
...You realize you don't really have a way out, but. You seem to be in the real space wreckage of a storage bay. Seems the door's blocked, and the wall's ripped open to space. You see a ship in the distance. You pop open a flare and hope something sees it. The rest of your crew is rather silent, new...shade included. You aren't really in the mood for talk either.
After a while, you hear awful noises...similar to the first loud squelch while you were in that, place. But worse. Longer. It culminates in a finale. The room in realspace shudders. and you see a shuttle return towards the ship, before making a turn for...ah.
The flare.
A terrifying presence steps off the shuttle, covered in ash and debris. It is to the point. It came in response to an automated distress signal. It detected signs of an abnormal subspace and made a breach. It has, unfortunately, caused the collapse of that space and is escorting what it could of the specimens from that space that did not find their own way out, a few of which are confirmed capable of speech and reason. It offers sufficient supplies for a further beacon and survival equipment, or a trip back.
You decide, on a limb, that if it has the power to collapse a place, and wrangle abnormalities, some of which are probably kinda peeved, it's probably decently safe. It takes note of the shade and the corner and asks if you've talked to it. You note that you've been able to, try. But aren't sure if you can speak. It approaches the shade. It pulls out an odd tool, and. You have no idea what it's doing now, but after a minute or so, it helps guide you to a spot on the shuttle. It's a bit...cozy. Not a lot of space.
Once the shuttle gets to the ship, it's a bit better. You're exhausted, and find a place to sleep.
---
That's where I'll leave it for the moment, listeners. I'm going to lead this into a final bits and epilogue. Wanted to go into a bit more detail about the heart of the beast, but...I think this is pretty alright too. I'll be back in a bit. Feel free to drop in comments, inquiries, or meandering in the meantime. Either way, we'll be continuing shortly.
We're going to swap the point of view at some parts of this broadcast, to a native, and to a lost soul. This broadcast's action is reaching it's end, and I feel that if it'll be going off with such a bang...it'd be boring to only give it from the perspective of the gun.
So, shall we be off? Yes. You don't really have a say in this, short of barging into the station and whisking the microphone away from me and...
...well, you aren't doing that so, we'll be off. And to hell with it, we'll give you second person narration. It's on the house. Except there aren't any houses...so it's nowhere.
---
Your shuttle crashes through the station wall and into the subspace. After the thundering explosion, the dimension recoils at its new wound. It shudders and shrieks with a sound like glass breaking mixed with a cough and a squeal. You'd be lying if you said it was the worst you've heard. You think about what's next.
You really are not a fan of rescue missions. Well, you do them of course, but...your job's a lot harder than some organizational rescuer, who's just meant to get out who they think qualify as 'people' or their 'client' or whatever.
The issue isn't just finding the people who sent out the call. If there's a creature or abnormality involved, there's a chance it's not hostile, there's a chance it's a person. Something you can communicate with and find ground with. Most of them don't 'choose' to exist here, and even the dimensional subspace and any semblance of a 'ruler' it may have might not even have a semblance of responsibility for the intertwining of it and the pocket of the 'real' world. They can be just as confused as those who sent out the emergency beacon. Unfortunately, sometimes you have to forcibly the ones who called you here or the abnormalities abound. Sometimes is a lot of the times, given you look like a scary death weapon that just shot into their home. To be fair, you are. Not all abnormal spaces are dangerous, but some are incredibly harmful to organic life. Some entities can interact in ways they think are harmless, which will bring long-lasting harm. Some places are more abstract or intangible and can influence things in ways that are harder to notice. You're not exactly perfectly compliant with 'normal' space yourself. Gives you a sorta sixth sense in a way.
And you've got the feeling this place is trying to dig up the past. To put on a play. Really, you have the firepower to break this place open. Honestly kind of self destructive of the space to do that...presuming it's sapient. Hell, if it is, you. Well you can't know until you see evidence. Just, need to find what you can, keep what you can safe. And avoid smashing through things. Toying with destruction is rarely good. Luckily, most of your past is various shades of sticking to your gun. Unfortunately, the earlier ones from back when you weren't independent...were more literal. And given what this place looks like...
Labyrinthine echoes...of what was likely the station's prior schematic. You might have to blast some paths for you and your shuttle. Luckily you still seem to be able to make some scans of the immediate surroundings. Seems mostly empty. You get to work shearing through walls to carve space for your vessel beyond the shimmering entry crater and through the nearby walls. No immediate signs of your quarry. No signs of injured abnormalities either. If this place ends up collapsing, you need to have a tabs on them so you can help them out. Hopefully your sensors are working properly, as you don't have much else you can do short of divorcing from your vessel. And...given it's value to you, you'd rather not lose it. Might not even help in the first place.
You press on. A ranger alone, doing what it can do in a place where things have crashed together, leaving behind piles of shattered glass and slag in the wake of its search. It seems the place thinks you're on some sort of march, it's even giving you a little tune. Orderly and sharp, yet with the tune of a music box? Is it a metaphor? A theme. The march goes on. This is going to take a while.
---
Elsewhere, another consciousness lingers. It's form and shape fluid, but its natural poise is something stolen by the dimension, from the memories of a new entrant, a memory of something long lost to the fire of combat. Without the gift of much memory or the knowledge of much else, the entity is mostly left with a vague sense of general knowledge and that sense is screaming. Screaming that the loud and thunderous cascade of fire in the distance is something to avoid. That the space's quaking means this place isn't safe. There is a need to be somewhere else. Find. Something, else.
It is gifted with a slipperiness, an ability to slip as shadows do, and to go between unseen places. It is running itself as fast as it can, trying to find something OTHER. Something that. Isn't the thundering intrusion, but...maybe another way out? It tries to wander away from the action, yet it cannot get a scent, until...something, orange. Something, citrus? It doesn't think that's true. Something other than the other native presences that it has seen. Subdued, erratically filled with the nature of the space. It makes its way closer, sneaking up behind. It sees an opportunity. Perhaps? It could, sever the tie of that intangible string. It makes an attempt. It misses. The figure lurches, noticing the consciousness odd nature, resembling a memory of a distortion of a distortion. The puppeted citrus smell seems to gurgle something. Nothing words. It draws a knife. The shade lunges again, in a natural feeling way, the knife failing to make contact with something that isn't really there, as the string is pulled until it snaps, each individual strand breaking under the tension of something between the lines.
The figure collapses. Unfortunate. The shade carries it, for the time being, searching for some other thing, away from the distant sound of thundering...
and it eventually, after more sculking about, smells more. It carefully approaches, carrying the former puppet. The figures unfortunately notice it quickly, despite its form somewhat shrouding the cargo. They seem relieved in a sense, before reconsidering. They eye the sort of phantom oddly. It tries to say something. It's not sure they heard, but it asks if they know a way out. There is no response. It waves. They...wave back. It supposes that's something. They seem to try to say something. It's, understandable, vaguely. Something about going? Yes. That's right. It tries to nod, but...it's a touch too amorphous and monochrome for that to have decipherable meaning, at the moment. It figures, it will lead the way, listening for a way out.
---
A IT worker begrudgingly follows some odd thing. She thinks it might be a glitch? It brought back her old cards rival who seemed to have walked off in a storm, despite you all being lost in what seems to be a maze of endless library. She's glad they're back. Alongside her mentor, it's a pretty good team to try to figure out a solution...though. One's unconscious. A glitch in reality? Maybe. That's, what caused. This. So another one, two wrongs make a right? She's not really sure. Everything feels blurry.
---
A captain fixes its hat. The doctor'd fucked off, seeming in a trance. Awfully strong and resisting your best efforts to convince him to stay with you. Seemed to think this was a conflict zone. The loud impact and the thuds following it seem to back that but...the place he mentioned was one that's not around anymore. He pushed you away and wandered off. Your cyber chief seems to be lost in something else. Thinks this is a library? No. This is a corruption of, realspace? You wish you paid attention at that fucking seminar on abnormal spaces. This one seems like a messy sort. You're not sure you'll find your way out, but...this shade. Feels different. This place seems to be something messing with memory. You think maybe, something else has gotten mixed in. A memory of that, loud crash? Could be a worse abnormality, really. You, could go either way, but that one is carrying your friend so. You'll follow it for the time being. It seems docile, and isn't currently causing this place to shake and tremble...and.
...you bet on the right horse apparently. It seems there's a tear that's built up nearby. to...realspace. You dig out your emergency EVA gear, before motioning at the shade and the body. It...seems to get the idea, after you repeatedly gesture at what you've done and your doctor's bag. The chief seems to say something about PPE and working with, welding? Why did they weld in a library. Anyway, they put on EVA too. Good enough. You slip through the tear.
...You realize you don't really have a way out, but. You seem to be in the real space wreckage of a storage bay. Seems the door's blocked, and the wall's ripped open to space. You see a ship in the distance. You pop open a flare and hope something sees it. The rest of your crew is rather silent, new...shade included. You aren't really in the mood for talk either.
After a while, you hear awful noises...similar to the first loud squelch while you were in that, place. But worse. Longer. It culminates in a finale. The room in realspace shudders. and you see a shuttle return towards the ship, before making a turn for...ah.
The flare.
A terrifying presence steps off the shuttle, covered in ash and debris. It is to the point. It came in response to an automated distress signal. It detected signs of an abnormal subspace and made a breach. It has, unfortunately, caused the collapse of that space and is escorting what it could of the specimens from that space that did not find their own way out, a few of which are confirmed capable of speech and reason. It offers sufficient supplies for a further beacon and survival equipment, or a trip back.
You decide, on a limb, that if it has the power to collapse a place, and wrangle abnormalities, some of which are probably kinda peeved, it's probably decently safe. It takes note of the shade and the corner and asks if you've talked to it. You note that you've been able to, try. But aren't sure if you can speak. It approaches the shade. It pulls out an odd tool, and. You have no idea what it's doing now, but after a minute or so, it helps guide you to a spot on the shuttle. It's a bit...cozy. Not a lot of space.
Once the shuttle gets to the ship, it's a bit better. You're exhausted, and find a place to sleep.
---
That's where I'll leave it for the moment, listeners. I'm going to lead this into a final bits and epilogue. Wanted to go into a bit more detail about the heart of the beast, but...I think this is pretty alright too. I'll be back in a bit. Feel free to drop in comments, inquiries, or meandering in the meantime. Either way, we'll be continuing shortly.
