Have you ever seen what raiders wear in Fallout 4? They might as well have raider printed on their armor. lol
That's discrimination, and you know it! Don't let me call the SJW on you! Snowflakes! Snowflakes where you at!
Though I kind of imagined most bandits being more techno-barbarians than what would pop up from a 21st-century post-apocalypse world. Though that does give me a wicked idea for a NPC raider faction. I shall add it to the pile!
Still, it's always good to keep in mind there are three people involved in a story, the character, the reader and the writer. Only one of them knows every detail in the story. Even playing F4 myself I was a bit confused how they knew IC they were raiders and kept thinking I must have missed something obvious. I mean just a line mentioning a gang symbol would have cleared up that confusion. As I can see organized gangs daring to operate so close to the Union. If I did too bad for me, but as I went through it that lack of info on how they knew kind of pulled me out of the story. Kind of hurts immersion a bit for me.
But that's just, like, my opinion man. Also if you read this, you should have expected some light criticism anyway! I'd expect the same. That's when you know someone cares!
@Darkspleen So spleen I have decided on my three members of EMBER, and they will be introduced via IC. They're kind of interesting I think. Also, I was thinking on which faction of the co-elite squad the leader would belong to.
At first, I imagined the Cybran's would want a member who's brain was augmented toward pragmatism and quick thinking. Of corse on a squad with none aug members an individual who was mostly natural would provide a more 'human' touch that was both familiar and relatable. I even entertained that the leader might be a different individual from each organization each major mission. However, that would reek havoc regarding unit cohesion since its always easier to follow the orders of someone you trust and respect which are both things earned through time.
So the most logical alternative the Iron Council would come too would have it be a member of the Lib who was a follower of The Way. Which would make for a good middle ground, and it's not like every follower is bionic'd up to the gills after all. You have to be fairly deep in the order before you get your first augment anyway. It helps The Way is very similar to the goals of the Lib anyway, I would not be surprised if a few followed it.
I put this here mostly so I would not forget it and so it was not buried in the chat. :K
Yup, I threw Sig the theme song after I found it was pretty perfect for this. :P
I"ve seen Miracles Of Sounds other hits too of course.
Btw, @Sigma maybe think about adding major roadways/highways to the map? Could help with planning routes for folks without the good fortune to find fully functioning planes.
@Oraculum Also it seems our religions share the same name there. The Way seems very popular these days. XD
@Klomster Also, dammit don't post that song!!! BAAAAAAAAHHAAAAAA!
Read my current post and guess way. :P
Also seems we both share the same music circles...
“There is no conflict between the ideal of religion and the ideal of science, but science is opposed to theological dogmas because science is founded on fact. To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end. The human being is no exception to the natural order. Man, like the universe, is a machine.” Nikola Tesla
Chanting echoed throughout the large oval chamber, the sound vibrating off the walls so that they seemed to rebound and resonate within those within it. Quiana could feel it rolling into her very being as she lay on a steel table in the rooms center. The hard metal felt cold against her skin as she lay mostly naked upon the operating table. She could also feel the unyielding leather straps that bound her limbs to the table's edges-- more to keep her in place than to restrain her. All around her grey-robed iron priest and priestesses of The Way chattered in binary code as they prepared for the induction ceremony.
Circling the group, in turn, were a small platformS that held many surgical tools, most of which were larger ones not already a part of their mechanical apparatuses built into their bodies, or those that extended from the ceiling above. Smaller aid drones scuttled about on mechanized legs carrying one tool or another, often doing so without any vocalization from the priestesses themselves. One deeply hooded priest off to her left retrieved a syringe from the mechanical claws of a drone and held it aloft for a moment-- as if to admire it-- the green lenses of his cybernetic eyes giving no hints as to what he might be thinking at that moment. However, Quiana assumed he felt a certain reverence for the contents of the syringe. Inside was a gray liquid that seemed to slush now and again subtly. It was so slight one might think they imagined it.
While uncertain Quiana guessed that the liquids within were in fact OSN, or less commonly called Organic Shifting Nanites. They were at the moment configured to act as digital microfluidic biochips. It was these very nanites that had allowed the Illuminated Cybran Order to exists as it did today. Even alone it slowly altered the brain chemistry of hosts, allowing one's mind to grasp complex concepts and increase one's memory exponentially. It inherently did not make one more intelligent but allowed one to retain greater amounts of knowledge quickly and more easily. It was the first and greatest gift given by the great Mother of Machines to the orders ancestors. It also allowed any individual once injected to accept bionic implants. It was among the orders most holy of relics and having such a thing bestowed upon oneself was no small thing.
The priest lowered the needle toward Quiana’s left arm, aiming for a major artery with practiced ease. With a rock-steady hand and uncanny precision, he administered the nanomachines. There was a slight pain as the cool metal pierced flesh. Then a light tingling in her arm that seemed to slowly spread throughout her arm before slowly spreading into the rest of her body. At this point forward the iron priest around her ceased to speak in binary-- switching to flesh speech in the language of common Nabushanion with droning synthetic voices. Entering into a chanting prayer that was perfectly synchronized, revealing long years of practice.
“From the weakness of the mind, Mater machinas save us.”
The faint feeling that had overtook her arm now seemed to crawl up her body, the tingling strongest around her throat and soon against the sides of her temples. Soon the mechanical surgical arms descended on her body. She would stay awake for the entire procedure, as her throat was soon cut open to prepare for her respirator implants. Thankfully her sense of pain would be temporarily dampened significantly thanks to the nanites in her body which, also deadened her nerves making it so she could not move even if she wanted to. Her head secured as it was to the table Quiana could only roll her eyes as she silently watched them perform on her paralyzed body.
She had heard tales of a few unfortunate men or women who still held enough feeling in their body that they could feel every blade and cut. Mercifully it seemed she would be spared from such a nightmare scenario as she experienced no pain at all. As they worked, the priests continued to chant in their emotionless almost robotic voices.
“From the fate of entropy, circuitry preserve us.”
A nearby priest seemed to produce from nowhere a mechanical device already perfectly measured to sit just inside her throat where her adam's apple once was. It, in turn, would act as both her new means to take in the air as well as a voice box. Sheets of metal placed over the sensitive inner workings, the metal connecting with her skin as the nanites seamlessly merged inorganic with the organic material-- allowing the both to work harmlessly beside the other.
“From the Rage, of the beasts, Iron protect us.”
As they worked away on her throat and lower jaw, she could feel a slight tingle that ran up her right arm. Even if she had been expecting it, it was still somewhat alarming. One iron priestess had skillfully started amputating her right arm up to the elbow; the wound was then carefully treated as a new mechanical arm was made ready to replace her lost right arm. A small aid drone lifting it up as if to offer it much like a young child might off a gift to the priestess at work. A lightweight model capable of expanding several more digits from the first five fingers would be threefolds faster, and two folds stronger than her previous flawed arm of flesh.
“From the temptations of the flesh, silica cleanse us.”
Much like her right arm, soon both of her left legs were each carefully and surgically removed. Each replaced by cyberlegs that were lightweight and built for speed rather than strength and durability. The model was among the most flexible leg augments regarding upgrade enhancements available to it. At this stage, however, they would serve mostly as a form of locomotion.
“From the ravages of the heretic, Machina anima shield us.”
The last of the implants were soon finished as the Iron priests began to wrap up the end of their ceremonial initiation. All told it had taken a mere hour and a half to fix the last cybernetics into place many of the most complex machines needing to be pieced together at the moment of implantation. The last of the rite ended with a priest dipping a finger in a bowl of holy oils being held up by a small aid drone, then carefully drawing the orders symbol of the cog onto Quiana’s head.
“From this rotting cage of biomatter, Machine Goddess set us free.”
The rite was officially over, and Quiana suddenly felt exhausted, as the last of the nanites not consumed in the surgery had already begun to induce sleep to allow her body and mind to adjust to the radical changes made to it. With sleep came a sudden sense of overwhelming bliss that suddenly enveloped her and she could not tell if it was from knowing she had finally truly began her journey in TheWay or if it was the Mater machinas welcoming in her newest child.
The Great Wastes
++ 12 Years Ago ++
The sound of weapons fire seemed to ring out unceasingly like the wailing of a newborn child. Now and again the sound of an explosion would ring out alongside the cacophony of gunfire that made the ground and walls shake. The small group huddled within a carved out section of the cave where they made their home waited anxiously as the fighting continued. Of those who dwelled within two were adults. One was a man, the only other adult a woman-- his spouse-- and their two daughters.
The man armed with a simple sawed off shotgun felt his heart quicken as the sounds of fighting drew closer and closer. He looked back toward his family as they huddled in the far corner of the cavern. With new resolve, he turned back to the curtain that closed off his dwelling from the rest of the cavern network and unconsciously tightened his grip on his weapon. He raised the barrel toward the entryway as the gunfire came even closer-- his hand unsteady as he breath quickened. Malrick had no idea who had suddenly stormed his people's home in the dead of the night. Yet such an attack on a settlement out here in the vast wastes was hardly an unexpected or rare occurrence. Actually, the only things that mattered when you were raided, not if, was who the attackers were.
Another group of bandits would be something they could deal with like that had in the past. Union boy’s tended to come in loud, kill a few, but most would have to look forward to being dragged off to one of their ungodly prisons. Librarios data worms could always be negotiated with. But if it was the Disciples of Yre-Keltha they were likely all royally fucked. The only ones worse then them would be facing a Yandras CDF death squad. Of course, if he believed in the ghost stories there were always th--
A sudden crash down the dark hall beyond the curtain brought Malrick’s thoughts back to the present. He swallowed and slowly walked forward and hugged the wall next to the archway. It didn't matter who had decided to come calling tonight. If the bastards dared threaten his family, then he’d make sure they paid in blood. The sound of heavy foot steps thudded from somewhere on the other side of the doorways curtain. At one point the footfalls sounded wet, like someone stepping onto a puddle. By the sounds of it, whoever or whatever it was, sounded massive and heavy. Not quite as weighty as a man in power armor and now and again the sound of an iron gritting against iron could faintly be heard.
Malrick listened attentively to the approaching steps, slowing his breathing as he waited. At last, the footfalls seemed to stop suddenly, and from the sounds of it, there was more than one person. And they stood perhaps a mere few feet from the doorway. Malrick slowly inhaled as he gritted his teeth counting down the seconds in his head.
In a sudden burst of movement, Malrick turned, so he stood before the curtain taking aim. Before his finger could even squeeze the trigger a single deafening report of a gunshot rang out, followed by the violent, bloody impact of a 5.56mm round tearing through Malrick’s throat. The bullet practically pulverized most of his neck in a spray of gore. Malrick fell back; a terrible electric current jolted through his frame simultaneously causing his body to enter into a sudden seizure, forcing his finger to pull the trigger in a death grip firing off a buck shot into the stone ceiling just above the archway as he fell onto his back.
There was a wailing scream of panic and shock from somewhere in the distance, but it seemed far away to Malrick’s ears as the world took on a blurry image. He watched with fading consciousness as dark cloaked figures strode into the room, brushing the curtain aside with ease. He could hardly make out anything, but the blazing red lights under hooded heads. He tried desperately to move, bring his gun to bear, curse the sons of bitches. Anything, but his body did not respond, either from the shock to his nervous system or the fact his life blood was ebbing away at an alarming rate. He realized the bullet had ruptured a major jugular artery and he had moments left before he was dead.
He barely registered another vaguely familiar cry, this one a mix of rage and hate. He watched helplessly as Lily, the love of his life, rushed the intruders with a makeshift bladed weapon. They didn't even bother wasting a bullet. Instead quicker than his dying brain could follow the lead intruder's arm snapped up grabbed Lily’s arm by the wrist before twisting it ruthlessly clockwise in one quick, smooth motion. Quickly breaking the arm and splitting the bone as if it was nothing more than a bush twig. Lily cried out again, but this time in pain, a cry that stabbed directly into Malrick’s fast beating heart. A heart struggling to supply blood to a brain it could no longer support.
Malrick cursed these robed men, and his own stupidity and inability to protect his family. The only solace he could take in those last moments as he chocked on his blood was that at least his family would soon follow him into the afterlife. They would reunite in the hereafter. If there was any such place. A swift kick bent a leg out from under Lily causing her to fall somewhere out of his vision. He grimaced when he heard bone snapping again followed by another cry of pain.
He wanted to shut his eyes then and there, to just die, but he stubbornly looked on, knowing what would follow. He did not deserve to look away. Yet instead of gunning down the rest of his family, another figure with a hood that gleamed a bright blue light where his eyes should have been stepped up and looked toward his daughters. Who at this point Malrick realized were crying and screaming something he could not understand. Strange mutterings were produced from the hooded, robed figures that oddly sounded like one of those old communication devices his band had dug up some winters back. A phone he had learned later was it’s name. It was then in a sudden moment of clarity that he realized with a cold dread who these intruders were.
Ruststalkers
That exact moment his suspicions were confirmed when one of metal men spoke in a synthesized voice, “prepare the children for transport and mind scrubbing. Terminate the female.”
As his vision faded to darkness, a single tear born of rage rolled down his cheek. The gods of the wasteland were cruel indeed for any death was far better than the fate that awaited his children. The last thing he ever heard was the wet crunch of a heavy metal boot crushing his wife's skull and then he knew no more.
Nova Alpha
There’s a place in the dark horror stories go to hide. Buried deep underground. Pain and Torment mechanized.
On a Lite up stage.
Natasha awoke in a strange cold place-- one she immediately noticed was void of any light. The next thing she noticed was she was suspended naked by her wrists and legs, with strange coiling metal which kept her spread eagle and several feet off the ground. The last thing she noticed was she was utterly alone. The last thing she could recall was in her parents dwelling with her mother, father, and sister. Then the bad men had appeared, they had hurt her daddy and mom too. She had tried to run-- fight-- like her father had taught her. But they just ignored her kicking and punching. She did remember how strong they were. Binding her with something strong and metal around her legs and wrists. Before a bag was placed over her head. The last memory she had. She had told Megan her younger sister to run through the little crawl space they sometimes used when they played hide and seek.
Just large enough for her sister, and herself if she had time. She couldn't remember if Megan had listened and reached the space or not. She really hoped so. Remembering in vivid detail what had happened she began to cry again. Remembering how her mother had tried to turn their faces when dad neck opened up. No not opened, was blown away like tumbleweeds in the wind. How mother had tried to protect them as well. The sound of her head being crushed would hunt Natasha’s dreams all her life. She was more than old enough to know she would never see them again. Even now she could do nothing to stop the tears that welled up. She wanted to scream, but could not manage more than a sobbing inhaling exhaling full body shudder over and over. She wanted so badly for this all to be a very bad dream. Hoping she would wake up to her and her sisters cot. Where her mother would take her into her loving arms and hush her back to sleep. For her father to check the crawl spaces and insure her there were no monsters with his natural smile that always put her at ease.
Crying alone in the dark she slowly became aware of approaching footsteps. She tried to quiet herself. Hoping against hope that somehow she would not be found. Then red lights illuminated the darkness. Revealing just enough that she could make out shapes but not what they were. The red lights were focused in front of her and a circle about her helpless body. She futilely tried to pull on her bindings but they gave only slightly, and the angle was all wrong. She discovered that despite how cold and metallic the coils were, they were not as hard as metal ought to be. Why this was, or how, was completely lost on her.
When the voice came from some distance away, she nearly jumped out of her own skin with fright. She squawked in alarm despite herself.
“Now, what have the stalkers brought me today? Hmmm?”
The voice sounded like a man, but it was all wrong. It sounded like some mimicry, oddly like a normal voice mixed with static from one of dad's old radios.
“W-w-who are you?” She managed with some effort. Trying and failing utterly to sound unafraid.
The dark shape of the figure soon appeared just outside the ring of lights circling her. He seemed to be also wearing robes like the other bad men. She could not make out anything from under the hood he wore except for some metal sticking out the lower part of his face that looked a lot like her father's old gas mask and an unsettling brilliant crimson glow where his right eye was supposed to be. He also seemed to have a large rod of some kind taller than he was in his left hand which he used to support himself like the older men in her village used walking canes.
“A most anticipated and tired question new meat, but you need not concern yourself-- oh no.”
Something about the man's manner scared her more than anything else which started her crying all over again, only this time more quietly than before.
“Now let's see what we have here…” at that ominous phrase the sound of whirring gears could be heard as the man's back opened up into countless dark shadowy armlike appendages. Like some evil spider of iron and steel. Each mechanical arm was unique and not one shared anything with its brother in appearance except basic functional appearance as a limb. Strange devices and lights at the end of several of those arms light up or opened to reveal some unusual instrument. At the sight of so many arms coming towards her Natasha’s cries became even louder than before. Begging him to not hurt her, to take her to her mom and daddy.
The mystery man tsked and shook his head responding in a voice sounding mildly annoyed, “now, now none of that new meat. I have yet to even begin with my experiments. It is far too soon to vocalize your displeasure. Properly await testing before making a fuss. Normally I would have had your vocal cords removed. But I have decided to try recording specific responses made vocally when different stimuli is applied. I estimate an increase of 3% efficiency in our proceedings, and being allowed to vocalize your displeasure should allow for a 7% increase of you minds psyche. Which will help in resisting the inevitability of you mind breaking under the stress. At such a point you would become useless to me. Fret not! Your biomatter would be recycled and used for other experiments of that have no doubt. Nothing is wasted in Nova Alpha! Or Nova Prime itself for that matter.”
Natasha still whimpered all the same as lights flicked across her fair skin. All the while the data readings the man received seemed to please him as he “hummed” height and “AHha’ed” quite often. All too much time later the limbs receded with the man sounding quite pleased. “Yes, a most excellent specimen. A rarity to find one so healthy out in the wastes! And look at you! No diseases or mutations. Prime untainted human DNA, a rarity I say! A rarity!.”
“Of course the cities hold many healthy individuals as well, but it would be shouldering far too much danger to acquire any of those you understand.”
Natasha was hardly listening at this point. Still reeling from the alienness and suddenness of her current situation.
“W-what do you want?” She asked in barely more than a whisper.
At that moment the mystery man snapped his fingers with his free hand. However, the sound resembled like that of flint scraping against flint. A small spark was produced by the movement, which was followed by, “ah, yes, of course, I forgot to introduce myself! I am Tech Lord Maxima Gasch of Biology and Nano-augmentation at your service. I have been tasked in perfecting new forms of bionic surgery and cybernetic upgrades for The Illuminated Cybran research branch. In you, we will test out countless new bionics to ensure they work as properly intended for our initiates. We can hardly afford to hope for the best after all on new adepts in our order! Such a waste! They must be tested first before being made available. Thoroughly. I do hope you will not disappoint.”
Maxima lightly tapped his stave three times on the ground, the room exploding in a sea of light that stung Natasha's eyes at first. It took several moments before her eyes adjusted to the light. What she saw quickly made her wish the light had blinded her permanently. The entire room was a stage of horrible amalgamations of flesh and steel. Bloated bodies with machinery unnaturally attached or even growing from outside their bodies. Natasha had seen one unfortunate buggy crash once in her life. Yet nothing could have prepared her for the things that were once human hanging over platforms all around her.
“...like so many other before you.” Maxima’s head turned toward one platform to Natasha’s left.
She made the mistake of looking and wished more than even she was blind, for this one particular mass of flesh and steel was altogether too familiar. The sight of it made Natasha feel like her heart broke into a thousand pieces in her chest. The mangled mass of her younger sister, Megan, hung like so much grotesque meat, twisted almost beyond all recognition, if not for the necklace around her neck mother had given to her. Natasha might never have known.
She vomited.
“Now then.” Maxima continued in a cold emotionless tone as if all was right in the world. “Where. Will. We. Begin?”
Still in shock Natasha did not even react when the first coil of metal wormed its way under her skin.
Will start on my IC. Also, I wonder how the long ago the last space hulk was found? As well as the major players in involved. I know the Cybran's would have taken part for sure.
