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>Previous bread
>3134783

>Check the map. 86!

Carl looks side to side,the ancient, corroded metal of the corridor he is in stretching off into such stygian darkness that even his enhanced eyes can't pick out details farther than a few meters. Those ethereal whispers, the tantalizing whispers of something just beyond your ability to decipher are even fainter here, here in the absolute belly of Angel Station. Down here in this abyssal blackness, this absolute... You search Carl's memories for the exact phrasing... Shithole, the Skaali have grown large and feral. A steady supply of leaking biological waste, various multitudes of vermin and the truly, truly desperate have fed the fat grubs to Nymphood, Juvenile and beyond.

The Ravagers that attacked you both back when you first *dropped* in (heh) were fully developed and some looked to be ready to molt again into their Brood Warrior forms. You tap into the memories of Carl as a young adult, before he found himself adrift on Angel Station. Dropping onto various besieged planets in a dark and claustrophobic drop pod, digging into trenches as swarms of Skaali Ravagers charge forward over mountains of their own dead, clearing tunnels in frantic, flashing snapshots of nightmares and gunfire. Carl knows the Skaali well and his deep seated dislike of the sentient insectoids is coming to the forefront as skittering limbs and high frequency chitters echoe from all directions.

Carl taps the side of his new sunglasses with his remaining hand, a small crack across the right lense giving a very small distortion to the image as a HUD pop's up across the lenses. The image flickers and buffers for a moment as it syncs with his wrist mounted datapad, running cross references against station maintenance records and old service files you had downloaded from the terminal. The map is filled with gaps and blank spots, the corridors and passages here so decayed and forgotten not even the oldest logs and maps you have access to can fill in much. You do have a lead towards a maintenance corridor nearly a kilometer away that can take you up to something a bit less... Bug ridden.

"Bug? Thing? Hey? You there?"
Carl whispers, still not fully aware that you can literally hear his thoughts. If you could sigh you would as you interpose yourself into his mind and directly interface with his thoughts, copiloting his body.
>"Yes caaaarl. I'm always here. You'd know if I wasn't. Trust me. Because You'd be dead. Do you know how many organs that fall pulped? Do you? I do. All of them Carl. All of them. If I wasnt here just the collapsed lungs would have killed you, never mind the three feet of claw that punched through your chest or... Y'know... The missing arm.

>Cont
>>
>>3164622

Carl winces, his remaining hand brushing the ragged stump at his musical, his eyes going wide as he feels relatively smooth skin that is slowly bulging outward, your spare biomass being repurposed as the highly efficient stem cells needed to regrow an entire limb and all the shredded tissues within his torso. The reinforced chitin and bone plates beneath his skin audibly crack and adjust as they are forced back into their correct places, torn flesh sealing fresh back over them without even a scar. Carl adjusts his grip on the plasma SMG, the weapon still hissing softly as it dumps waste heat. He reflexively jerks as a plump Skaali grub wriggle slowly past along the floor, the pale infant Skaali looking at him curiously as he involuntarily licks his lips...

>+10 biomass.

Carl wipes greenish blood from his chin as you churn the freshly digested grub into useable biomass, instantly repurposing it to repair Carl's damaged body.

>There is a possible way back upwards at a Maintenance shaft listed as having a semifunctional lift.
>You are squarely in the middle of a region listed as "Danger:Here Be Skaali" on the map.
>Carl is at 80% Functionality.

>Take over Carl for the moment, you need to acquire some biomass to fully repair him.

>Symbiote mode. Augment Carl with your senses and add your mind to his. Get him to safety

>Those Ravagers are still coming, prime a charging cell to explode and toss it down that corridor.

>Make your stand. Maximum Over-Carl.

>Other
>>
>>3164622
Working Original thread link
>>3134783
>>
Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>3164625
>Make your stand. Maximum Over-Carl.
It is time fore the Carl-ing. Can kill things then just stuff them down Carl's throat to be processed as we fight?
>>
>>3164638
These Ravagers are pretty big. Carl can bite them to refuel mid fight but these are enemies designed for CQC
>>
>>3164625
>>Symbiote mode. Augment Carl with your senses and add your mind to his. Get him to safety
>>Those Ravagers are still coming, prime a charging cell to explode and toss it down that corridor.

it is time to GTFO
>>
>>3164642
Oh. then changing my vote to this >>3164651
>>
>>3164651
support then gorge
>>
Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>3164625
>Make your stand. Maximum Over-Carl.

Slurp those fuckos! (and indirectly save the station probably)
>>
i have a question can we upgrade body without getting bigger? and can we mutate while fighting?
>>3164673
i change my vote to this
>>
>>3164673
>(and indirectly save the station probably)
Wait a fucking second, there's an idea. What would happen if we... created an opening, letting the hordes of Skaali loose into the station? Imagine how much free biomass would be available to scavenge from the carnage.
>>
>>3164625
>Symbiote mode. Augment Carl with your senses and add your mind to his. Get him to safety
>>
>>3164673
well ok then I guess we're doing this then.
>>
>>3164673
Here we go
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3164681
Fucking this. Flood the station. Feast on biomass.
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3164681
>>3164802
I want to do this. We are not the good guys, we are here to eat everyone.
>>
Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>3164802

Fair enough, LET'S EAT
>>
>82! Maximum Over-Carl!

The skittering, chitters and scrape of claws on corroded steel and polymer alloys echoes all around you, yellow eyes looming in the darkness as the Ravagers creep closer, several of them still bearing smoking craters in their shells from the barrage of plasma ammunition. Greenish blood drips from cracks and splits in their armor plating, mandibles oozing stringy slaver as the insectoid xenos chatter to one another in their simple language. Carl's eyes narrow, his breathing quickening as adrenalin and endorphins flood his system, mutagenically enhanced muscles clenching under the layer of flexible subdermal plates. Already, the wound in his chest is healed to just a shalloe gash, the tissues knitting by the second. Already, the stump of his arm has regrown to the elbow, his shattered shins, femur and ribcage all sealed tightly and healing by the moment. As your influence floods Carl's system, his years of experience, natural instincts and history of violence coming to the forefront as his pupils dilate, his mind going somewhere cold and dark as you push yourself forward,melding your mind with his and wrenching the controls from him. Carls head snaps up, his veins bulging and ringing a pale acidic green as you pump his system full of a cocktail of hormones and stimulants that rival military combat stims.

>Its my turn to play Caaaarl...."

The Skaali brood, sensing their prey is becoming more dangerous by the second charge forward in a skittering tide, flashing claws and gnashing jaws ready to rend this flesh and present it to their younglings. Carl Springs to his feet, the SMG springing up in his fist and releasing a volley of acetinic blue bolts that slam into the Ravagers, sending several sprawling in squealing heaps as their innards boil and smoke.

>The Brood are rushing you from 2 ends of a 3 way intersection.
>You have your SMG, two knives, several charging cells for the SMG, your Single shot plasma Derringer and enough muscular strength to go head to head against a Jarga'ki stormtrooper.
>Biomass 280/ 1440

>What do? Roll me a d100, highest roll wins.
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>3164837
Fighting retreat into the upper levels, lead them upwards and into more... food rich areas, to pull off parts of the swarm to chase after fatter and easier prey.
>>
Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>3164837

Tear them apart and FEED
>>
Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>3164837
RIP AND TEAR
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3164837
Turn the end of his arm into a knife and start stabbing.
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>3164847
RIP AND TEAR
>>
>>3164847
This
>>
>>3164856
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D6RPgaI7lTU&t=9m4s
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galvarino
Blades for arms. Can you imagine it? I certainly can.
>>
Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>3164847
Supportin
>>
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Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>3164847
SUPPORT
>>
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>89! Totally Brütal
>https://youtu.be/a6BbvCC0VI0

The SMG whines in Carl's fist, the plastic-polymer grip cracking from the tension as Carl's finger depresses the trigger so forcefully it wedges there. A stream of blue-white fire pours from the barrel of the stubby weapon, the barrel glowing white from the intense heat that crisps the skin of Carl's knuckles as he mows down the first several dozen of the Skaali Ravagers. Instead of retreat, like any sane sentient would if facing a swarm of any number of Skaali, Carl advances almost without your instruction, his reinforced and near predatory teeth bared in a grimace of pure hatred as he piles the bodies of his foes into a wall of chitin and twitching limbs.

With a mechanical clank and a puff of superheated plasma, the SMG runs dry, it's internal power source drained completely, its firing mechanism fused into a useless mass of slag. Carl tosses the useless hunk of polymers and plastics away, clenching his fist so tightly his nails dig into his palm, drawing beads of blood as his mind fills with a darkness as hot and consuming as the incinerators they used to flush Skaali burrows.

Your voiceless howl of rage and hunger scours all humanity from Carls mind as your minds fuse in the fires of hunger and PTSD driven rage.
>"Kill them Carl. Kill them all! Kill them! Eat them! Feed us Carl! Kill! Feed! Kill! Feeeeed! KIIIILLLLLL!"

Skaali Ravagers are the immature forms of the Brood Warriors that make up their heavy infantry. They stand at just under 2 meters tall, their six limbs divided between four legs, 2 manipulator digits with 4 smaller claws and two larger limbs that posses a pair of slashing bladed claws nearly a foot long, studded with inward facing barbs and spikes. They are evolutionarily designed to overwhelm their prey in close quarters and rip them to shreds before injecting eggs into their ragged flesh. Their thick shell can deflect small caliber kinetic rounds and low yield energy weapons. They are the swarming cannon fodder the Skaali drop en masse to overwhelm the defenses of worlds they invade.

And they are yours for the reaping.

Carl's fist, reinforced as it is, simply smashes through the first Ravager that lunges at him, impaling the insectoid on his forearm. With a grunt and a explosive kick, the remnants of the twitching xeno is launched backwards as if yanked by a wire, spewing greenish gore in a arc that splatters against Carl's face and eyes, filling his mouth with the tang of blood. Muscle bundles coil and bulge as Carl dodges and weaves, lashing out with fist, foot and elbow, cracking carapace and smashing limbs like brittle twigs. The blood crazed Xenos screech and chatter to one another as they launch into a melee, slashing at the dead, at Carl, at one another, at the very walls in their eagerness to kill, to consume, to swarm.

>Cont
>>
>>3164945
>Cont

You use Carl and are used in turn, his mind feeding off of the raw data your senses feed into him, his body fueled into a berserk rage, the flames of carnage stoked by the potent chemical mixture you flood his bloodstream with. You register it on a clinical scale as Carls body is slashed, bruised, bitten and impaled multiple times, your regenerative cells flooding the damaged areas and gnitting them together within moments. Youre sure if Carl were "awake" at this moment he would he catatonic from agony at the multitude of injuries his body has recieved.

You are jolted as Carl is impaled from behind, a massive bladed claw nearly a full meter long jutting from his lower abdomen. Carl spits a wad of green-tinged scarlet and snaps the blade off with a jerk of his wrist, heedless of the ripping barbs that gouge into his hand. Using the severed claw as a makeshift sword, Carl wheels about and drives the claw through the underside of the Skaali Ravagers "skull" splattering whitish chunks of neurological tissue across the ceiling as the claw punches through the Skaali's limited brain. Drawing his cheaply made combat knife, Carl spins and ducks about, driving the shard of steel into eyes, into thorax joints and into tender underside, spilling ropes of slimy entrails in stinking piles.

You fight...Carl fights with berserk fury but also mechanical precision. Each enemy that faces you is crushed without hesitation or mercy. Shells shatter, heads are wrenched apart or crushed, entrails and primary hearts are torn from bellies and stomped into paste under Carls boot. So intense is his bloodlust that Carl makes his way down several dozen meters of corridor before realizing there are no more foes. Even Skaali can recognize a fight they cannot win and the few survivors of carls rampage have turned and beat a hasty retreat, leaving their dead and wounded to Carl.

And to You.

Carl's mind, whats left of it, swims in a dense fog as he tries to regain control of himself for a moment. His lips form a slurred phrase, his body broken at a cellular level and completely exhausted.
"Y'better run... F-fuckin roaches..."
>Sleep Carl. You've earned your rest.
"Fuck you too wormy"
"You're welcome Carl. Now SLEEP.

You take Carl's mind and shove it into the depths of his limbic system as you take complete control of his body. As a pilot instead of a passenger, you turn carls battered form about and survey the corridor of carnage.

You're feeling a tad peckish.

>Roll me 2d20 for how many Skaali you just butchered. Bo3.
>>
Rolled 10, 6 = 16 (2d20)

Rip and tear
>>
Rolled 15, 12 = 27 (2d20)

>>3164946
>>
File: Oh Jesus.jpg (95 KB, 949x584)
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Rolled 16, 7 = 23 (2d20)

>>3164946

Oh here we go
>>
>>3164946
I see we're going the berserker route.
>>
>>3164946
I think we owe Carl a noodle surprise. The next time he's asleep, let's look up the best place with the best noodles.
>>
>>3164953
Looks like we will get a feast
around half we could have gotten but good enough all food is good food
>>
>>3164946
Soooo 2d20 Skaali that we personnally butchered, and what about the ones that died and were eaten from friendly fire?
Can we put on the armor when he's done healing and change clothes?
>>
>>3164987
before he put them on i think we should upgrade so we dont destroy the things on accident when they are put on to tight
>>
>>3164953
>27×120bm each = 3240 Biomass.
>3240+280=3520/1440
>1810/2880bm
>You have 2 Stat upgrades available

>Lv8 Brain
-Smarts that influence world investigation, dialog, secret discovery, and roll requirements/ forgiveness. DC's involving INT drop by 20
>Lv6 senses
-Escalating detection capability. You can detect electromagnetic radiation, thermal energy and radio signals
>Lv4 Limbs (stronger tendrils with suction points to grip)
-Stronk limbs stronk.
>Lv4 Body
-Improved filtration and durability, making you and your host more adept at managing environmental hazards, increase to size and strength.
>Lv2 Stinger
-at lvl 3 you can eject a stinging tendril out of your host. Progressive levels enhance the number, length, strength, and capability of these tendrils.
>Lv2 Skin
-Improved resistance to damage, affects bio morph only.
>Lv2 Lungs
-Improved aerobic cability, length of holding breath, and handing hazardous environments.
>Lv2 Maw (mild Acidic venom fangs in a simple jaw)
-Bite, inject, swallow, sing beautifully, etc.
>Lv7 Parasite/ Symbiote
-improve your connection with your host, enhancing synergy between eachother's upgrades. Directly sync with your host to mutate their body on the fly.
>Lv3 Mimic
-Allows out of host mobility, copying lifeforms, Carl can feasibly pass as another person and you can mimic any creature you consume to a rough approximation.
>Write in

Gained 1 Carl points.

>Enhanced Musculature
-From shredded to Heuge
>Subdermal armor lv2
-Shake off shots from larger gauge weapons
>Calcite Spikes
-Never be without a concealed knife.
>Improved mass
-Bigger, Taller, Carl.
>Cellular Regeneration lv2
- even younger, healthier Carl with more regeneration.
>Berserker Glands
-Flood Carls system with combat stims.
>Acidic Ducts
-Carl can spit your acidic secretions at a decent range.
>MicroGrip patches
-Carl can climb much easier.
>Write in
>>
>>3164995
Roll with your choices, 1d100, might makes right
>>
>>3164995
>Lv4 Body
>Lv2 Skin
We need to enhance ourselves, we're going to be vulnerable as fuck if we ever have to get out of our host.

>Calcite Spikes
Big condition with this though; can they be concealed easily?
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>3164995
>Lv8 Brain
>Lv6 senses

>Cellular Regeneration lv2
>>
Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3164995
>>3165000
Roll big
>>
Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>3164995
Biomorph upgrade
>Write in Lv1 Division: Allows you to divide a small portion of yourself to wat mass and potentially infect another host.
If no one likes that idea then I'm going with Lv4 Body

>Lv3 Mimic

Carl upgrade
>Enhanced Musculature
>>
>>3165000
They are concealed within Carl's flesh along his forearms.
>>
>>3165006
support
this can later possibly work as a sort of lifeline and allow us to survive even our own death and allow our hosts to survive us leaving if we want
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>3165025
>>
>>3165018
They're perfect.
>>
Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>3164995

>Write in Lv1 Division: Allows you to divide a small portion of yourself to wat mass and potentially infect another host.

>Lv7 Parasite/ Symbiote
-improve your connection with your host, enhancing synergy between eachother's upgrades. Directly sync with your host to mutate their body on the fly.

>Carl upgrade

>Subdermal armor lv2
-Shake off shots from larger gauge weapons

I think this ought to work well enough
>>
>>3165031
they are just bone spikes and would not tools or even the blades corpses of these Skaali be better
and its better to focus on some key things and not spread out our hard earned upgrades on minor things?
>>
>>3165052
>immediately available, hardened, concealed spikes able to puncture through armor
>minor thing
Bugs aren't the main threat, dude.
>>
>>3165047

Actually, swap my carl upgrade vote for Calcite Spike
>>
>>3165061
Same. Maybe holdout calcium and keratin spikes will be useful.
>>
>>3165057
i dont like spreading out thin and it just says
>Calcite Spikes
-Never be without a concealed knife.
we only know its spike we dont know how good they are compared to just a normal knife or a shard of metal we dont even know if they can puncture armor thats better then leather
>>
>>3165067
I'm assuming they can puncture, what with our retard gorilla strength. We can certainly smash through low tier armor with Carl's fists alone.
>>
>>3165070
I'm switching my vote back from knives to making Carl stronker. Who needs bone knives when you can punch through walls?
>>
>>3165078
I imagine there's a limit to what brute strength can do against armor. Especially if the power armor starts coming out, I know it will.
>>
>>3165070
its getting harder and harder to upgrade and getting something kind of redundant means we spread our upgrades thinner.

and why have bone spikes that break and that we need to upgrade like atleast 2-4 more times to become worth it, compared to just carls fists
>>
>>3165087
I picture bone spikes eventually becoming more hardened and a built in ranged attack further down the upgrade chain. Never specified where the spikes are limited to and how many can be grown, either.
>>
>>3165087

Won't be able to feel bone blades in a pat down like you would a knife or any other weapon. Always good to have a weapon in hand
>>
>>3165078

I want to make sure we have our meals in a variety of ways
>>
>>3165102
carls fists are better weapons then a mere level 1 bone spike
>>
>>3165115
he can hit hard enough that the bone spike is redundant and upgrading the spikes to a useful level would take away upgrades from stuff with direct results
>>
>>3165115
>>3165117
Alright, I'm still voting bone spikes.
>>
>>3165115

Alright alright

Swaping carl vote to

>Enhanced Musculature

I just wanted to have something to stab with that'll always be on us
>>
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>>3165132
>giving in on a one shot power fantasy quest
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3164995
Stat upgrades
>Lv3 Stinger
>Lv4 Mimic
Both upgrades that will help if we're in or out of Carl. I'm deeply concerned about our safety/effectiveness/ability to obtain another meatsuit if things go wrong given our focus has been brain/symbiote. These upgrades would be useful while we're piloting Carl but also help us infect another host if we're in biomorph form.

Carl upgrade
>Enhanced Musculature
Get swole. Jump further, run faster, bust down doors, rip and tear.
>>
>>3165136

Hey, plenty of biomass already. Always next upgrade time to get it, that and I don't want to keep things tied any long than they have to
>>
>>3165153
I think Cursed is just dead for the night.
>>
Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>3165006
>Write in Lv1 Division: Allows you to divide a small portion of yourself to wat mass and potentially infect another host.

>shitting up the quest with division ideas when the general outline of the biomorph is already established (symbiote with a brain)
Not a fan of that idea.

>>3164995
>Lv3 Mimic
>Lv7 Parasite/ Symbiote

And remember sanitizers or whatever? Based on description, can't get close to them much. So CQC upgrades will only get you there. I'd invest in survivability first.

Tbh I don't see much reason separating stinger upgrade from limbs (could just be a limb write-in). Same thing with lungs and body.

Also not a fan of the new space marine Carl. Mimicry and subtlety will win in the long run. Getting swole will make him stand out.

>Cellular Regeneration lv2
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>3164995
>lvl 9 brain
Smartest boy
>lvl 4 Mimic
We are on the run after all

>Subdermal Armor lvl 2
Carl needs to be a bitch to take down, but not obviously mutated
>>
>>3165244
I change my vote to this
>>
Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>3164995
>Lv2 Maw (mild Acidic venom fangs in a simple jaw)
-Bite, inject, swallow, sing beautifully, etc.

>Lv2 Stinger
-at lvl 3 you can eject a stinging tendril out of your host. Progressive levels enhance the number, length, strength, and capability of these tendrils.

>Acidic Ducts
-Carl can spit your acidic secretions at a decent range.
>>
Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>3164995
>Lv8 Brain
>Lv6 senses
>Cellular Regeneration lv2
-----

An interesting situation, xenos everywhere, but Carl is alive and we are starting becoming is buddy.

We need more knowledge on the station and on this society; maybe some safe places (add some new faces besides our "default" one and a new job. Something that doesn t need all of our attention. And friends ), but right now more human weapons/ammos and a armor could do ..... and understand where we are and where we can go.
there are a lot of skills that we need to enhance, but there are a lot of places where we can take or aquire food. We could even just aquire food from a new home.

We should be vigilant of doctors and bio-scanners, even if they are probably just on the good sectors. .... but corps agents, police, military, volunteers for poors or someone that doesn t have anything to do could have similar weaker objects.
>>
>>3165244
Lv4 Mimic
Ability to temporarily change carl's features improves.
Lv8 Symbiote
Cellular Regeneration lv2
---
The feast of flesh provided by these Skaali was fantastic, they are really just great creatures. All protein and aminos, constantly working to molt to their next form and improve. You can respect that, because in that regard, you are in the same business. The thought is obliterated as your body begins a sudden change of it's own.

Utility and adaptability, translucent flesh flexes, pulsates and bulges momentarily as old genetic data is overwritten with improved sequences, the wave of change radiates out into tendrils that are embedded into every aspect of your host, branching out into microscopic fibers and then blending with his own cellular structure. The writing change hits carl's body, even disturbing his slumbering mind for a moment as the lattice of reinforcing symbiotic fibers writhes within him. You push him back to slumber, his mind needs the rest. Soon his own flesh echos your changes, small wrinkles flattening out, flat flesh filling with collagen once more. A man with an appearance of his 40s now resembles someone in his 20s. A full head of hair, and not a single grey. Not bad. You run carl's fingers experimentally through the hair. Thick. Somewhere there is a muffled idea of satisfaction from carl's psyche. He still hasn't even gotten a good look at himself since this adventure started. That will be an amusing reaction.

The biogenesis that happened within you has been violent, the surface of carl's skin is covered in sweat that is visibly steaming off of his body and ruined body armor. Sharp ears hear the telltale language of the Skaali. You are starting to catch certain sequences of the syntax, perhaps a word. With enough exposure you may learn the communications of the Angel Station Skaali. For now, they are food, and a lesser mystery. Genetics, fingerprints, and eyes still betray you to any sensors, and that means you have to keep going.

While you walk through the dark, you can hear them, swirling around you just in the distance, just outside your field of view. The combat armor is destroyed, helmet somewhere back where you fell, cracked into pieces, SMG cooked. The bioscanner, wrist computer, and glasses survived of all things, though the glasses are more of a monocular now. The derringer chirps twice, alerting you that it's refilled itself. There's that. Still two sticks of plasma conversion fuel that can be cooked off as grenades. The cheap flashlight died partway through the fight and joined the gun on the floor along with the glorified laser pointer.

1/2
>>
>>3165650
sorry I missed your post. I had started typing the response and walked away for a bit. Compensation incoming.
>>3165741
Aside from the constant chittering of cautious Skaali, you are mostly left alone to your thoughts. The ravenous hunger that drove you forward has calmed down, but a desire to improve exits. Your nature is probably one of the more important questions rolling around in your mind and engrossed the totality of your thought long enough for Carl's foot to catch on an old bulkhead door. On the floor. Tripping badly rewards a twisted ankle, and a screeching Skaali dropping from the ceiling, its compatriots choosing not to join it. You twist around in time to meet it face to face before grabbing a handful of chitin and slamming it into the floor several times. It stops moving, and becomes a nice meal. +60 biomass. Using Carl's hair as a makeshift napkin removes the green goo these things call blood from your hands. An odd syncopated hiss chitter calls out from the shadows. The things are sadists, and their companions death has brought an approximation of laughter. The map still shows nothing of this area, and your scanner does its best with a weak ultrasonic scanner to fill in the blanks. At minimum Carl is becoming an accomplished cartographer.
---
>Explore the hatch, go deeper.
>Press on through the Skaali infested territory.
>Listen to the Skaali more. Study their language.
>Try to pick off a Skaali with your derringer.
>>
>>3165759
>>Listen to the Skaali more. Study their language.
I want to know what they're communicating.
>>
>>3165759
>Listen to the Skaali more. Study their language.


having a vague idea of what they say could help, even if most of them are probably just overgrown insects.


----

thanks
>>
>>3165759
>Listen to the Skaali more. Study their language.
That's what we are smartest boy for after all. Also the gangs want us dead, the weird exterminators want us dead and probably everyone else does too. The Skaali on the other hand just want to eat us and they seem to respond to strength, maybe we can gain an ally or at least a tool in them.
>>
Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>3165759
listen
>>
>>3165790
>>3165785
>>3165767
Alright. roll me a 1d100

Best of 3.
>>
>>3165790
Yeah, like set the swarm loose on the station. Free biomass for days.
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>3165797
rollin
>>3165798
Even if we can just hide here in Swarm territory for some time, that would already be a great boon.
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>3165797
>>
>>3165796
>Pass: That was fast.
>>3165800
sexual.
>>3165801
high roll.

You've been listening carefully to the noise these things make in the dark. They do have a crude language, mostly oriented around concepts, actions, and places. Little focus on self, much on the group. Other groups, their group. Strong place, weak place. The abstract alive place and dead place. You are a strong place, if they had more you would be a weak place, and a dead place, for now they are the alive place but the weak place. Its apparent to you that they develop this language locally, over several generations and just build on it, so its likely that no two Skaali populations have the same language, or are even mutually intelligible. Given their nature, it would likely lead to a territorial conflict; though this is hypothesis now. You lack the vocalizations to enact communication, but make note of what you have learned. Tapping out the pattern of their language on the steel floor, then dragging your nail along the rust, emulating the chitter and hiss, causes them to pause their noise. You do it again...and then again. Silence. Again, and then again. The collected bugs repeat what you have just done, and it becomes a social meme, a new stimulous, suddenly the noise fills the void, almost overwhelming. There are...a lot of these bugs. A LOT. If they are calling for more communication, or death is unsure, but you have got their attention more than simple killing could do, the attention is like being the focus of uncountable voices calling out down a prison hallway. Even for you, this is unsettling. The hair on Carl's arms stands on end. You can feel his skin tighten and goosebump. Its loud, and only getting louder.

>GTFO down the mystery hatch.
>Keep walking forward, calmly, but quickly.
>Run like a motherfucker.

pick 1, dice +1d100 best of whenever i respond.
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>3165797
>>
Rolled 7 (1d100)

>>3165817
>>Keep walking forward, calmly, but quickly.
Careful now, don't show weakness.
>>
Rolled 61 (1d100)

>>3165817
>>Keep walking forward, calmly, but quickly.
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3165817
>Keep walking forward, calmly, but quickly.
They gonna get these hands if they wanna try anything
>>
oh shit guys
>>
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>>3165834
Noice, best moment for that too
>>
>>3165838
But do we get to give them these hands is what I want to know
>>
>>3165842
No, we are the hive queen now, those hands are only gonna pet chitin heads.
>>
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>>3165844
What, like pets or something?
You ever wonder if these Skaali had ever in their lives experienced the wonders of scritty scratches or belly rubs?
>>
>>3165834
W E W
>>
>>3165854
Yeah, a bunch of very big, very smart, very deadly and very hungry guard dogs. A wall of chitin, muscle and hatred between us and all those pesty humans that want to murder us. Maybe lay low in safety, until people stop looking for us and Carl.

Not yet, but they will.
>>
>>3165834
great
>>
>>3165874
With how much Carl's body has changed, on top of or body morphing ability, I think we might be capable of blending in long enough to go back to the surface and possibly loot Carl's home before we start over somewhere else.
>>
>>3165834
We're going to have to morph Carl some sickle-like raptor claws on his feet so he can communicate through taps and scrapes much easier.
>>
>>3165834
An old earth adage is "Real recognizes real." You are in their territory, but are not being fucked with. The screeching, hissing, and more reaches an unbearable pitch but you keep your control and pace. More so you listen, and observe a language develop in real time due to an outside stimulus. These bugs are very adaptive. Pausing by a steel pipe of some diameter, you pound on it in sequence, over and over, copying more of their language in steady thumps. The closest would be comparing music to proper language. There is a form, you are following it even if there are no words. The silence repeats itself, but soon is replaced by a copy of your beat. Your long walk come to a close, and by the end you find yourself near charted territory according to your wrist computer's downloaded maps. The insects never to try to approach you again, and never come back into view, but as you wrench open a crooded bulkhead door, cross the threshhold, close, and seal it, you can still hear the muffled scratchings in beat. Almost giving you herald. The electronic buzzing of wireless communication is faint, but apparent to your senses...Ahead of you is more darkness, punctuated with periodic sparks. In the distance is a prick of orange light. Your map verifies; its a terminal. Might be useful.

>This will have consequences.
>You understand Lower Angel Station Skaali dialect. enough.
---
>Go to the terminal and find something useful
>Check your devices for the signal.
>>
>>3165909
>Check your devices for the signal.
If it's unimportant we can still check the terminal
>>
>>3165909
>Check your devices for the signal.

let s understand what the signal is and then go the terminal. We could avoid an ambush
>>
>>3165909
>This will have consequences.
>Taught the Skaali how to make sick beats

>>3165914
This. Signals, then terminal if we find nothing interesting.
>>
>>3165909
>>This will have consequences.
I can't wait.

>Check your devices for the signal.
>>
>>3165930
<intelligence check passed>
Not too far from you just behind a cluster of rusting conduits and old machinery is a hardwired device. Armored but rusted, your intelligence gives you enough of an inquisitive nature to examine it more. Old, but recently repaired. It was never part of this cluster. A small metal braided wire snakes out of the box and inconspicuously blends in with the rest of the mess in front of you. Curious. You examine the rest of the room quickly, and find little of note beyond a pipe that seems to be pumping back towards the bug territory, it feeds up from the floor. Past a long walk to the next access point that leads up, the only thing of note is the terminal. After a careful approach, its not trapped, or guarded. Just an old industrial terminal. With a shielded wire coming up from the floor and socketed into it. Interesting. This terminal is largely like the one you previously encountered; of the same vintage actually, but its firmware seems more recent. The metallic screen bezel been replaced, comparatively clean next to the bulk of the corroded industrialized housing. An inconspicuous button sits near the wire, you depress it and a small pin sized green light flickers to life above it.

Learning the new firmware takes a bit of trial and error before you quickly master it, aided by the discovery of a navigational nub in the middle of the keyboard interface which provides a cursor. Near indestructible metal keys provide a satisfying chunk noise as you peck commands into the terminal. Eventually you've narrowed down a list of pertinent options.
----
>(wireless extension) Station News
>(wireless extension) Shitposting
>local system maintenance report
>System Firmware Update
>Mainframe BIOS update: Access denied.
>Environmental access: INOP
>Maintenance access
>Close grid tie contactors
>(wireless extension) GATE 1
>(wireless extension) GATE 2: NOTE: BUG INFESTATION.
>Ain't go no time for that. Walk away.
---
you have time and safty to explore these options. Pick 3, more than just three will be explored, but some impact others, closing off choices and opening up others.
>>
>>3166113
>local system maintenance report
>>(wireless extension) GATE 1
>>(wireless extension) GATE 2: NOTE: BUG INFESTATION.
I'm very curious to see if we can release the bugs.
>>
>>3166128
>GATE 1: INOP: POWER UNAVIL.
>GATE 2: Explosive charge activated.
A pop followed by kalxxons kick off behind the sealed door you walked through earlier, significant screeching can be heard as autogun fire sounds out, eventually the sounds of tortured metal can be heard and the bugs calling out in triumpth. Red light continues to pulse from a paper thin gap under the door as the klaxons get destroyed one by one eventually returning to silence. Hmm.

>>Local systems deenergized prior to MX event. last updated 578 days ago.
---
Whats next?
>>
>>3166113
>(wireless extension) Station News
>(wireless extension) Shitposting
>local system maintenance report

>>3166128
But if the bugs swarm the place, then there won't be any women to fuck.
>>
>>3166148
time for real life. catch you folks in a few hours.
>>
>>3166145
Does this mean we pick more options, or just one?

>Maintenance access
>>
>>3166145
>>(wireless extension) Station News
>>(wireless extension) Shitposting
>>local system maintenance report
>>
>>3166145

>(wireless extension) Station News
>(wireless extension) Shitposting
>local system maintenance report

>>3166148

Well you better save as many as possible, BECAUSE FOOD COMES FIRST AND FOREMOST
>>
>>3166145
>>(wireless extension) Station News
>>(wireless extension) Shitposting
>>local system maintenance report

I'm not super familiar with this board's etiquette, is tripfagging without cause frowned upon here like it is literally everywhere else?
>>
>>3166639
Yes, it's usually bad to do unless the qm specifically calls for it.
>>
>>3166744
Good to know, thanks.
>>
>>3166639
Sorboclese here. I don't care. We all have unique IDs unless you are a phonefag, and then names are just voluntary honesty instead of someone voting and then those 50 random (1 post by this user ID) that vote the same that happen in other quests.

Also. Im back.
>>
>>3166639
Time to shitpost and inspect maintenance records.
--
The old terminal has an usual connection that is attached to the modem nearby. Your wrist computer is too old to interface, but the new knock off smart glasses work. Well. one half of them works. You spend the next several hours soaking up data from above, its a good opportunity to see more human behavior. They really are controlled by their gonads. Interesting. There was a conflict between the imperials and station security forces that resulted in the destruction of 3 buildings, and the explosive decoupling of the imperial transport ship from the station, as well as the subsequent depressurization of its hull and void execution of all life onboard. One does not attempt to exert foreign influence on Angel station. Noted. It would seem roughly one third of the reptilian population aboard the ship is still MIA likely to go into hiding. You may have company in the future...

Reported biohazard identified as false positive, location precautionarily sterilized according to corporate council public relations council. It would seem the corperate block of the station is best to be left alone; more data indicates it is newer than the rest of the station, but rather anomalous.

Slave markets, pirate activity, illegal sentient mechs, nanomachine outbreak, party entertainer goes murderous, depressurization incidents, fighting pit winners and fatalities section. Ah, here we are. Massive migrant influx due to spontaneous environmental rehabitation event on lower levels, expected influx of 100k-300k people. Comments indicate its always double that for the first few years until the dieoffs stabilize the population.

You take a moment to let the local crime family back from Carl's old section know you are still thinking about them. It was an interesting discovery to find out the daughter the Erati family had left behind was also a sort of socialite starlet, she was the female human who was posed without clothing on the photo hard copies you recovered from the gentlemen kind enough to become your meal. After using the built in camera on the glasses to take a few grainy pictures of the bloodstained photos, you upload them to StationChan. Near immediately your post receives death threats. "Good luck, I'm behind 7 layers of station." a common retort to those threatening to find an individual. This time its probably true.

The maintenance report shows chunks of the map not available on the larger system, it would seem this local terminal is more of a node with its own storage. You download the local maps to your wrist computer from the archaic side of the computers systems. Random corridors and passages appear in uncertain outlines throughout the darkened voids on your map. It would appear you also obtained several way points for repairs to enact should you choose.

>shitposting will have consequences

1/2
>>
>>3166931

Only 578 days since the last maintenance event. How bad can it be?
---
Available options reduced:

>Environmental access: INOP
>Maintenance access
>Close grid tie contactors
>Ain't go no time for that. Walk away.
>>
>>3166939
>Ain't go no time for that. Walk away.
Can we insight a fight between two different bug factions? I want to increase our senses and intelligence enough so we can communicate.
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3166939
>Maintenance access
>>
Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>3166939

>Environmental access: INOP

What can go wrong?
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>3166939
>Maintenance access
Lets get outa here
>>
Rolled 84 (1d100)

>>3166939
>>
>>3166957
>>3166968
>>3166990
>>3167003
You attempt to cycle the Environmental access, somewhere in the dark you hear groaning machinery and a horrific screech. An error reports back to you; "external debris; require removal and cleaning" well. That's on the maybe list. The maintenance access is much more straight forward, and eerily so, a wall next to the terminal simply depresses inward and slides sideways revealing a dimly lit supply closet for the workers of this part of the station.
---
>Close grid tie contactors
>walk away and investigate the closet.
>Go check out that screech.

Choose as many or few as you want and roll 1d100. Its like candy, try not to get a stomach ache if you eat too much.
>>
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>>3167011
Its me. its always me.
>>
Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>3167011
>Go check out that screech.
Foooood
>>
>>3167011
Investigate the closet!
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3167011
all
>>
Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>3167011

>walk away and investigate the closet.
>Go check out that screech.
>>
>>3167036
>>3167035
>>3167029
>89, 82,4: This was my fault.

[4]You attempt to close the grid tie contactors and are rewarded with a momentary flash of light as the entire room you are in sparks, and flashes a very bright blue light before many things start exploding simultaneously. You seem to have a problem with technology. Also there was a very large shape at the end of this long room that could not quite be made out. Shaking your head internally, which does little more than to tickle Carl's guts, you sigh using his body. There are angry thumps of something very large in the distance.
[89] Deciding that something large enough to rattle the floor grating is not a good thing to approach unarmed, you hazard a glance inside the now darkened supply closet and pull the door shut with your enhanced strength. A crack remains wide enough to peer out into the darkness. Your glasses have an almost worthless torch light for video capture, thankfully to your eyes it is sufficiently bright. There is an old environmental hardsuit fitted to an alcove in the wall, they were phased out of favor nearly a century and a half ago. Still, the ceramic composite frame was made to withstand micrometeorite and industrial impacts. The power supply is drained, but it should be possible to still move it without the exo assist, it will just be harder. Next to it is an old industrial cutting laser. A quick glance at the hazard sticker tells you all you need to know, the wavelength is so tight that it's range is pitifully short, but potent. It's highly caustic metallic thermal batteries seem to be in good shape for the most part. A quick check of it's systems indicates half charge. Not bad, provided the batteries dont fail or explode, you should have about 5-10 shots before it bricks itself.

[82] After slipping into the hardsuit and slinging the cutting tool over your shoulder you peek out, which was a mistake. That thing is big, and is angrily ripping up a semi hidden ramp on the floor. Hyraulics screech and the pannel is already bent upwards at a corner. Interestingly this one seems to still have power. GATE 1 perhaps. It glances over at you for a moment, countless eyes dilating around a bony beak like maw that blends into a mass of writhing barbed tentacles that cover a powerfully built quadruped like body. It easily weighs 20 tons, and has no easy weak spot, and somehow seems oddly familiar to you.
---
>Its Carl time. Attack <near impossible DC>
>Its Carl time. stay hidden and wait for it to go away. <low DC>
>Smart time. Shoot the door open that contains the Skaali. <Mid DC>
>Throw your remaining two plasma fuel cells in grenade mode at it. <very high DC>

Pick just 1. roll 1d100. You are at a point where I will kill the MC if it goes badly. no pressure.
>>
>>3167086

>Smart time. Shoot the door open that contains the Skaali. <Mid DC>

Oh boy
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3167086
>>Smart time. Shoot the door open that contains the Skaali. <Mid DC>
COME, MY BEAUTIFUL BUGS. ANSWER MY CALL.
>>
Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>3167094

Well I forgot to roll
>>
Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3167097
this
>>
>>3167104
from1 to 4 to 100. THE GODS PITY ME
>>
>>3167104
OH FUCK
>>
>>3167104

DINNER! LET US FEAST AND GROW FAT ON THE FLESH OF THE MIGHTY AND TAKE THEIR STRENGTH!!
>>
>>3167107
So that happened. write up incoming. swarmmaster.exe
>>
>>3167108
FUCK YEAH
>>
>>3167104
You notice that Carl's mind is along for the ride, awake and observing. He feels tense, but without the associated biology there is an unusual disconnect. He keeps pulling, trying to get your attention away from the behemoth towards the door you came through. You hear it in your mind, the rhythm played for the Skaali. "Pretty reckless idea Carl. Alright, I like it." your thoughts hit him and you are given an image of an old man smiling into a bathroom mirror, slightly unhinged. The antique laser faithfully cycles up, its corroded batteries begin to glow hot as a runaway chemical reaction begins that generates heat and massive amounts of amperage. Nudging the bulky object out the door, you take aim without looking, working off the memory of where the door is. Your first shot is unnervingly silent, the monster notices you but is more concerned with huffing and clawing at the hidden ramp, almost frantically. The second shot is a bit brighter as accumulated dust burns away, the third is accompanied by an unhealthy hiss as one of the batteries boils over, molten metal and acid eating into the floor. Each subsequent shot overheats the tool a bit further, breaks something more. By the 8th shot the batteries are bulging and one is spewing pressurized acid. You fling the gun out the entry and then pull the slab door fully shut. Your target, three hinges and locking mechanism are melted through. A red molten ring sits in the place of each former object on the door. Reflective curious eyes peer through, but go no further as you hear the odd chittering language of the Skaali. On cue your overtaxed cutting laser explodes, finally drawing the ire of the beast. It chuffs the air before charging your location, ramming the reinforced wall section head first. It immediately buckles and tendrils work their way in around the partially folded door piece, wrenching it away with horrific strength. It breath smells so familiar...like the refined biomass fluids.

Running out of time, you slam the door with the same patter you gave to the Skaali. Again, and again....and again. This time with one last modification "dead place meat." Two primed plasma fuel cells get chucked out of the door and explode a moment later after curious tentacles wrapped around them. The smell of blood and charred meat fills the room. Not a serious injury to the beast, but enough to cause the Skaali to break down the meager barrier between them and this place. For a moment several hundred hungry eyes, long tired of cannibalism, rats, and filth, meet with an unnatural predator made of nightmares; and then they swarm. Skaali have swarmed tanks, fortresses, thousands of men armed with automatic heavy weaponry, they have swarmed predators that made the super predators of prehistoric terra look downright adorable, they have swarmed and killed the impossible, and it is in their nature to do it again and again. So this? Nothing.
>>
>>3167149
Carl, the swarm whisperer.
>>
>>3167149
The tide of screeching chitin washes past you, never paying second glance, the individual Skaali make up a distributed super organism made of claws, hunger, murderous intent, for everyone one trampled under foot, impaled, eaten, crushed, or tossed into a wall, dozens more fill the void. The creature is clearly regenerating its injuries, just not fast enough to make up for the damage being done. Its like watching a man fight a deli slicer face first. Gore splashes freely as tentacles and eyes are ripped out, chunks of meat sliced off and gulped eagerly. The abomination continues to fight, even as it's ribs and face become a skeletal mask of meat and raw, dripping, gristle.
---
roll 1d100, pick a choice, Cursed or I will get to it tomorrow.

>Stay where it is safe, let the bugs eat their fill.
>Make a dash for the hidden door on the floor that's been bent up.
>Join the Skaali in killing the beast.
>>
Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>3167151
>>Join the Skaali in killing the beast.
Dangerous, but high payoff. Any Skaali that get fresh with us we can just backhand away with our retard strength combined with armored suit.

We're eating that thing.
>>
Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>3167154
>Join the Skaali in killing the beast
>>
>>3167156
Well, that was meant for
>>3167154
but it doesn't matter with that dumpster fire of a roll.
>>
>>3167156
A simpel grubb will pimpslap us
>>
>>3167159
feel free for other players to choose and roll. This is one of those "best of; whenever the GM gets back."
>>
Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>3167154
killkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkillkill
>>
>>3167174
When I posted this, I meant kill and eat any and everything. The Skaali and beast shall be our bounty.
I mean come on the Skaali kill their own all the time.
>>
Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>3167154
>Join the Skaali in killing the beast.
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3167177
Support

we will kill and eat all of them, the beast was injured by us but every other insect can be a meal here. After that we go away.

And Carl will have fun in killing this xenos.
>>
>>3167177
there could be weapons and armors left by the defeated human guards on the ground (and their corpses) ? we could use them.
>>
>>3167154
>Join the Skaali in killing the beast.
We still have the bandolier of cheap knives right?
Throw four of them at this thing's eyes then charge in to shiv it with the last two
>>
Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>3167236
>1 post by this ID
Like hell, I've been posting since day 1
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>3167236
>>Join the Skaali in killing the beast.
>>
>>3167237
>85: The knives were gone, but the will was not.
The host was disoriented and confused, yet fully awake and taking back control of his nervous system. He had no idea what was happening, where he was or doing, only that he must kill. Fumbling hands searched in confusion for a tactical harness and blades no longer available; only to find entombment in ceramic gauntlets. The hardsuit helmet muted the world around you, carls breathing and pulse became the background of the ensuing slaughter; already weakened by the Skaali horde the beast was weakened enough that its remaining tendrils slapped at Carl with anemic force. Fists clenched inside what would become makeshift cudgels eagerly.

Wading through the strikes, your host approached the abomination, now seemingly fearful, moral, injured. As it lunged to bite Carl, he flipped over onto the back of it's neck and began delivering vicious blows to the back of it's massive skull. Bone began to splinter as it bucked in desperation, crushing unwary or overeager bugs, but that stopped neither Carl or the Skaali from the hard work of killing. Each blow became wetter sounding until finally a fist plunged through into a brain stem, on the return yanking out a cluster of tightly bound nerves, arteries, and jiggling synaptic matter. It was dead.

For their part, the bugs were not murdering you yet, instead focusing on gorging, crawling inside oversized eye sockets and wriggling into the dead beast's mouth, like oversized maggots. They scratched at the bones, but were unable to break them for the sweet marrow within.
---
>Help some bugs out and spend time breaking bones.
>Do the above, but help yourself as well.
>Just GTFO before they decide to eat you.

1d100, pick 1, ill be back later.
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3167634
>Do the above, but help yourself as well.
Hey, worst case scenario, we end up becoming a skaali host.
>>
Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>3167634
>Do the above, but help yourself as well.
>>
Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>3167634
>>Do the above, but help yourself as well.
>>
Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3167634
>>Do the above, but help yourself as well.

k' time for more nat 1
>>
Can we start killing and eating these guys once they start trying to molt?
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3167634
>Do the above, but help yourself as well.

We got this.
>>
>>3167882
>87: Just fucking squeaked by an 85 DC.
---
Carl's apprehension is apparent, he does not like these bugs, does not trust them, and to be fair you are pretty sure that you are a social failure away from being killed by the swarm. Still, there is potent biomass within those bones, it calls to you, but there is a line to be careful of. The next several hours involve Carl ripping bones from sockets, tearing off bits of tendon and cracking open the calcified structures to get at the marrow inside. You encourage your host to help himself to the marrow has he flings the shattered remains out into the crowd of chittering, waiting bugs. Their social structure is fascinating; those who dive for the marrow have no hesitation of attacking their kin, those who are injured badly fall to the crowd around them, and in turn the grubs feast on the scraps. Their society is in a constant state of renewal, any Skaali who survives to their final form is likely a force to be reckoned with. The taste of the abomination apparently reminds carl of beef marrow mixed with shellfish, and he consumes the flesh heartily along with his unlikely dining companions. You suspect the display of strength and usefulness of providing meat for the swarm has prevented them from turning on you thus far. By the time the shattered remains of the beast are nothing more than gnawed chunks of bone that only a diziz rat would attend to, the insects begin to enter a state of torpor, their skin hardening and turning opaque. They are preparing to molt. Those not molting stand guard over their metamorphosing kin. As you turn to leave you notice a specimen looking at you, it slaps its claw in rhythm against the steel flooring, the beat you gave them earlier, but now more complex. Carl is encouraged to emulate it, his ceramic encased foot stomping against the floor in turn. The sequence increases in complexity, and is repeated, back and fourth. Their language is evolving in real time, you notice the smell. Whatever was opened in their territory must have been refined biomass, the creature's breath reeks of it's sweetness.

https://youtu.be/7pirhdH8DTM?t=18
---
>Jam out with the Skaali, deepen your understanding of their communication.
>Walk on into the darkness, continue your journey.
>Investigate the hidden floor ramp door that the abomination was fixated on.
>>
Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>3167958
>Jam out with the Skaali, deepen your understanding of their communication.
We need allies and they would be good ones. They are strong, smart, predictable and have no reason to kill us, other than to eat.
>>
>>3167958
>>Jam out with the Skaali, deepen your understanding of their communication.
The more we learn of them now the better, sooner or later this swarm will be released onto the station and we'll be in an all you can eat buffet.
>>
Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>3167958
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WCSM2kFiY0g

GRAB BONES AND START BEATIIING. Where is homo erectus carl with his percussion instrument
>>
>>3167981
https://youtu.be/WCSM2kFiY0g?t=186

The video takes a while to start
>>
>>3167958
>>3167964
forgot to mention to roll a 1d100. 1d100 plox.
>>
Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>3167987
Alright.
>>
Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>3167958
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-tJYN-eG1zk
>>
Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>3167958
>Jam out with the Skaali, deepen your understanding of their communication.
>>
>>3167987
was I too late to roll for the rock fest?
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3167958
>Jam out with the Skaali, deepen your understanding of their communication.


uhm

>They are preparing to molt.
>Those not molting stand guard over their metamorphosing kin.

tempting food. really tempting.
>>
>>3167987
Can you tell up how many are left that aren't molting? You know, in case we want to try attacking and eating them?
>>
I have a feeling the longer we stay down here, the worse Angel Station's long term prospects look.
Also, if our host wasn't named Carl, he'd be dead as hell by this point.
>>
>>3168009
you would die. Its not out of character to betray someone for the biomorph, but at the same time we are not murder hobos. The character of the character is smart enough to avoid situations that will likely get it killed, as its primary goal is not eating, but surviving. Eating gives more biomass which allows for self improvement, which enhances chances of survival. With the reccent boost to intelligence, the biomorph has become curious about it's origins, life around it, and social behaviors. At a surface level this is an outward sign of character development, but below that surface, any new data it learns enables better manipulation of social events, navigating where future paths may lead, and finding better opportunity, in general, enhancing chances for survival. Even the deepening concepts like friendship aid in enhancing survival in some situations. The Biomorph follows an instinctual logic, and in many ways is probably as much a slave to it's behaviors as anyone else is. None of this has been implicitly laid out in the game, but it gives rational and explanation behind the character. Even if it was a ravenous eating machine growing to engulf the station in a web of flesh, the end goal is still the same.
>>
>>3168040
I am still fully in support of ripping the entire station apart and devouring every single sapient onboard, maybe while taking Carl along for the ride. If he survives.
>>
>>3168046
I'm not so on board with that. Then we'd be left with the bugs and rats.
>>
>>3168128
Just launch ourselves through space towards the next target and hibernate or something, we did it already in order to even arrive.
Or just use Carl to pilot us to a new, juicier location.
>>
>>3168128
there are many ways we can do it.
>>
>>3168046
The Biomorph was firmed up during the initial big stat buy in. Angel station is also a pretty big hub right now for the SS setting with a few other storylines using it, so if it was going to be that kind of story, we'd have to find our way to a different area.
>>3167997
>75: A modest performance
You have a limited conversation with the Skaali ravager, contributing nothing further to their syntax, but offering no signs of weakness. It would seem though that you are not the only one studying other life forms. The ravagers of the group scrutinize your every movement, and on occasion mimic. Soon the pods are twisting, and the body language of the Skaali becomes more irritated. Its time to go.

>Quickly go into the nearby floor ramp and seal it behind you.
>Just head out into the darkness and hope for the best.

dice+1d100 and a choice.
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>3169053
>>Just head out into the darkness and hope for the best.
Leave openings for the perpetually angry bugs.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>3169053
>Just head out into the darkness and hope for the best.
Sorry if these questions are basic knowledge, I'm fairly new to /qst/. What's SS? Are we part of a larger narrative here? Is that why the Imperial guards showed up?
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3169053
>Investigate the hidden floor ramp door that the abomination was fixated on.
I smell loot, but I would like to know how much biomass we had accumulated.
>>
>>3169146
SS is Silent Stars. Stay a while and listen. (d2 meme reference)

Silent stars is a space setting made by CursedQM. There are several quests contained within it. You dont need to know anything about the setting to play though. Cursed lovingly unfucks lore and makes it work when I CoGM, and i try to leave my impact on the setting nebulous enough that while things happen for the players and there is an adventure, I dont actually advance any setting wide plot. So i tend to keep things at a local and personal level. Cursed has some google docs that go into explaining the lore, tech, and alien races a bit. So far there are now 4 storylines within the setting.

>Wick's Saga- Pirate dickbag and all around cool guy. Also the primary storyline.
>SilentStarsSideStory (S4)- Follow a Giant robot, sociopath AI, cybernetic clone, and other weird fuckers.
>Ballad of the Biomorph- You are in this one.
>Scrapworld-Another QM's one off take on the setting, which was based off side story, so, third gen Side story QM'ing right there. All in all pretty good, 10/10 would clank again.

see: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?searchall=silent+stars
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=silent+stars (for the lost threads)

It should be of note, Cursed is a busy dude, so his stories sometimes end openly, but they are a hell of a ride.
>>
Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>3169053
Ramp. Its the plot hook.
>>
>>3169053
>>3169626
>72: This is a true fact.
You walk over to the mangled rampway which is still attempting to close periodically. Enhanced senses and enhanced Carl allows you to easily slide down into the floor between each attempt at closing which would shear a man in half. The small room is barely tall enough to stand in, and has a series of relatively bright white lights that illuminate raw steel paneling. Its much better taken care of than anything else you've seen thus far. "Seem suspect?" "Yes Carl. It is very suspect." "Don't have to be an asshole about it." you kindly remind carl of an important fact "I've always exited and entered your maw, despite the risk of harm to myself from your calcified macerators." the momentary pause is enough time for Carl to scan the room and pull on a damaged latching mechanism that allows the heavy overhead hatch to finally close. The small room only has one other exit point, which leads down a shallow descending motor ramp. Carl recognizes it as a vehicular maintenance pathway. Common in larger stations and planet side structures. Seems like you are going down further. Better than up. Up so far is death. Carl presses on for a while, his environmental boots clacking against the concrete like substance of the tiny road. Got some time.
---
>Ask Carl about his past. what? You already know, but it doesn't hurt to pass the time.
>Tell Carl about your concerns. He already knows, but it doesn't hurt to pass time.
>Examine this structure.
>Write in
>walk in silence.

roll 1d100 regardless of action picked.
>>
Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>3169645
>Write in
Wanna get noodles after all this? I know this is really unlikely, but I hope we find noodles. Maybe some instant stuff at the very least.
>>
>>3169681
Seconding.
"You have been doing well, Carl. Should we find ourselves reentering society soon, you should reward yourself for your recent efforts."
>>
>>3169681
Carl swallows, salivating slightly. "You know. Noodles and a beer sound great." Primal memories are more potent than normal ones, often generated during a life altering event. For some reason, Carl thinks about noodles fairly often. Now you relive his experience with an unusual lemon grass, creme, chicken broth with crystal noodles. Chunks of orange root vegetable and mysterious meat float in it as he looks up from the steaming polystyrene cup at an attractive waitress. Just overhead a leaking pipe emulates rainfall as modified tuktuk haulers speed by. Your mutual reverie of the moment in history is interrupted by a group of heavily armed figures emerging from the end of the tunnel. Armored Exoskeletons and heavy caliber solid projectile automatic weapons. "I really need a name for you before we die." So far aside from their approaching presence, no one has exhibited hostility outright. You detect faint buzzing on the electromagnetic spectrum, it makes no sense. Long pauses, then momentary bursts, the occasional series of rapid pops like a radio wave recreation of battlefield ambience.
---
>Mutate carl to meet the situation. This is going to burn all your biomass.
>Diplomacy, you are smart, erudite, arguably charming.
>Examine the tunnel around you, see if there is an escape vector.

choice and a 1d100. You got my horrible GM responses until cursed returns.
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3169645
>Ask Carl about his past. what ? You already know, but it doesn't hurt to pass the time.

The period of military training for become a soldier. It s not a problem right Carl ?
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3169702
>Examine the tunnel around you, see if there is an escape vector.
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3169702
>Your mutual reverie of the moment in history is interrupted by a group of heavily armed figures emerging from the end of the tunnel. Armored Exoskeletons and heavy caliber solid projectile automatic weapons.
>Diplomacy, you are smart, erudite, arguably charming.
Fuck it I wanna see where this goes.
>>
>>3169711
>a group of heavily armed figures
>Armored Exoskeletons and heavy caliber solid projectile automatic weapons

their stuff looks pretty good and useful for killing Skaali insects. Or anything else.
>>
>>3169713
O hope they ignore us in favor of attacking the obviously aggressive hoard of alien bugs. Please ignore the man in the armored suit who somehow made it past them.
>>
>>3169706
>87: Talk talk.
"Carl." He seems lost in thought. "Caaaaaarrrrrrl....remember that time you ejaculated prematurely and failed to impress your mating partner?" the mental equivelant of a defeated sigh stimulates your neurons as carl vocalizes audibly. "Yes. Yes. I do. Was that yesterday? Its hard to tell when you keep highjacking my body so you can EAT PEOPLE." you do consider this. That is a true statement, perhaps you have misjudged his mental fortitude and comfort when consuming his fellow sapient. You are immediately corrected as carl examines that thought. "No, not just no. Fuck no. I'll stick with surprise unconsciousness." You really do enjoy his presence though. "Carl, tell me about your time in the military. Maybe the formative part. I Want to hear you say it." ...."this is really weird, bug. Almost...intimate. Alright..." You learn about the culture that is built around social conditioning, likely creating reflexive behaviors, as carl talks, he relives, his brain activates old neural pathways, shunting around elements of himself that would normally hesitate for objection to an action. Interesting that after all this time, they are still there, old near programmatic pathways. Discussions on food fire the olfactory sector, or even emotional elements. you squiggle about under the new stimuli causing your host to rub his gut, inadvertently pressing on the environmental hardsuit and giving you a sort of "pat." Yes. Carl pats are good. You enjoyment is cut short by new visitors....heavily armed and armored visitors. Threat yes, inactive threat, yes. Potential to service hardsuit and gain new equipment, data. Yes. Violence, possible. No meat scent. Odd. Many thoughts quickly flicker through your wormy mind as you preform an analysis of the new situation.

...which takes us to the present.
---
>>3169709
>87: How about that door right over there.
Well its not much, but for what it is, there seems to be a door that likely leads into some sort of machinery room given the periodic spacing of inactive ventilation fans. It has an obvious external lock on it, very old fashioned.

>"Hello fellow, normal sapients. My name is Carl." <mid dc, but something about you is off.>
>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>
>Break for the door, via breaking through the door, see where it takes you. <mid DC, and you will probably be shot at.>
>Combat mutations, this will hurt, and getting shot will probably hurt too. <High DC, and you will absolutely be shot.>
>>
>>3169720
>>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>
>"Hello fellow, normal sapients. My name is Carl." <mid dc, but something about you is off.>
dont know what one is worse we could ask carl if he wants to do the talking or have us do it while he watches and advices
>>
>>3169720
>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>


Ah
>>
Rolled 49 (1d100)

>>3169732
carl what was the name of the other ilama?
>>
Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>3169737
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3169720
Carl power
>>
File: 1513645100999.png (871 KB, 1106x630)
871 KB
871 KB PNG
Hmmmm
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>3169720
>>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>
Come on Carl
>>
Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>3169720
>>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>
>>
>>3169759
that poor misguided guy i dont even know how he survives
>>
>>3169759
Voting for this for comedy
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>3169720
>Just let Carl do the talking. <mid dc, but its carl.>

Change Carls Voice to a female
>>
>>3169978
Sexy Carl
>>
>>3170419
real lifes been real. gonna be busy for another few hours.
>>
>>3170712
Real life continues to be real. If cursed makes a resurgence the quest will move sooner than before tomorrow. Sorry folks.
>>
>>3171627
no problem its yours and there time
>>
>>3171644
theirs
>>
>>3169760
Carl ran his hand over the lower portion of his face before he looked up at the approaching group, it was an odd gesture for you. Most of them had some history in his evolutionary background. "Five. What do you think?" You flex slightly "We have enough biomass to maybe survive it, depending on the capability of this suit, higher risk than I'd prefer, Carl." his slight cringe when you use his name is still enjoyable. With a large heaving breath, your hose raises the visor of the hard suit and approaches the...mercenaries? The electronic chatter you detect keeps getting stronger as you approach them. No Smell. Sterile as could be. No, no organics are ever this pure. Possibly machines. Your limited time on the Angel Station Intranet provided some understanding of the various entities that should and should not be here. Synthetics, possibly combat cyborgs. Illegal to the local authority either way, not to dismiss your own extralegal existence. The swirling thoughts through your head cause Carl to flinch "Shut up.....just...think less for a sec. I'm trying to talk here."

Putting on his best display of friendly and nonagressive body language combinations, you are impressed. Carl has a touch of the ol' social chameleon in him. Adaptive for survival, you knew you picked right when you didn't liquidate his organs for biomass. He feels those thoughts through your sympathetic connection, and in turn you feel a mixture of flattery and abject horror.

"Well, hello, here we are; hopefully as none of us are shooting this can be a friendly enough exchange considering none of us are shooting yet." A thick ribbon of ammunition mechanically cycles into one of the figure's weapons with a slow and audible *chunk chunk chunk* You dump the best stimulants carl's body has to offer into his veins. Before he has a chance to talk you are finally addressed.

"Observed: hostile blue on blue action with Skaali allies after sabotage of critical substations. State your reason for termination of allied unit." He gets confused. "the abomination carl. its the only thing we killed thats not a Skaali." One of the combat units in front of you sports a female figure which seems to distract your host before his eyes refocus on the machines. "I...ve...been...uhh...trying very hard to not be killed by anything. The abomination was a..uhh." His eyes drift back to the chest of the female as you remind him "A threat." he straightens up "Yes, a threat." One of the machines deploys what looks like a miniature comm array and points it at Carl. You feel unpleasantly hot within him for a moment before the heat fades. More electronic chatter. "Biomorph carrier confirmed." the smaller combat unit points its gun at Carl "Cut the shit Biomorph." You mentally reassure your host before taking control.

"We can conclude tedious exchange with a bit of honesty. I am apparently a Biomorph. You are apparently a collection of illegal..." the pause is heavy "Refugees. We are refugees." 1/2
>>
>>3172065

"Then we are all in the same situation, I want to survive, no doubt you want to survive. lets.." you are cut off as the group trains their weapons on you while you take a step forward. It would seem the option to kill them quickly has evaporated. You use Carl's flesh to audibly sigh and slump your shoulders. "What do you want?" the largest machine answers taciturnly "Address prior inquiry." You focus on the group intently, as two species determining who falls where on the food chain. "Survival. Become resource inefficient for capture expedition, attack when possible, return to anonymity. Be on my way. Exist. Consume threats." Your words come out as you think, honest. Of the Five, the tallest is likely a combat machine, as are the two smaller ones. The intermediate pair, one is overtly female, though the potential for a repurposed machine is possible. The other one is slightly taller. "Biomorphs dont talk with food, and everything is food to them." Carl pushes forward out of your control "For fuck's sake man. Do us or dont, I just want some damn noodles before I die. Can a guy get some damn noodles?" the middle pair give away their identity cleanly as they look at each other with a very organic reaction. Combat cyborgs. The buzz of electronic communication is overwhelming now, reminiscent of data upload when you posted that picture on the chan. "Biomorph, you are going to be coming with us. Turn into a tide of flesh, or start growing tentacles, or eating people left and right, we are gonna have words real fast. Past that, someone we know thinks its worth figuring you out without cuttin' you apart."

2/2
---
pick 1. roll 1d100
>express joy at not being murdered in addition to being abducted.
>walk silently.
>Conversate.
>>
>>3172074
>walk silently.
>>
>>3172074
let carl talk
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>3172087
>>
reading this quest always makes me hungry for noodles
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3172074
>Conversate
If they allow us. Let Carl talk.
Meanwhile control their weapons and movements, and the buildings around us, start doing some "excessive foot steps" similar to how skaali do. Maybe a group of them could arrive here, and we have chance of escaping.


This is bad. Really bad. They have scanners. They know what we are. And they don t have any good intention.

how many ? That we can see here ?
>>
>>3172084
Make a roll
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3172084
>>
>>3172074
Do we remember our past?
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3172117
>>
>>3172087
>>3172088
>30: Eloquence is not his.
For a while Carl's base urges cycle through vicious hunger and mentally categorizing tastes and flavors of noodles he would eat when given the opportunity. In an act of kindness, and to end the vicious feedback loop you disable his digestive system for now. This frees up processing power to stare at an armor clad ass for a bit. Oh Carl. This is what you do with the gift given to you. Your mocking disappointment is met with crass poignancy. "yes, yes, Carl. Muh dik." you've absorbed a bit of the board culture from your time on the terminal it would seem.

Eventually he speaks. "So what are you guys? Fuckbot gained sapience? Illegal Cyborg? Liberated nugget? Your chassis in particular stands out." All of the machines are armored in matching white clinical plates, with grey banded, reinforced fiber padding covering actuation points. Past that they all featured obviously mechanical arms and legs of an industrial nature, complete with a touch of grime throwing off the clean motif. The "female's" design threw him off the most. Overtly female body, mechatronic legs and arms, strange slab steel horizontal helmet like someone carved the corner off a square and placed it on her face, except it was all too small for a helmet. Neuroprosthesis? They keep walking on, no words, just the steady drone of electric motors, metallic footfalls, and a periodic hiss of pneudraluics. The two organics seem to have taken front while the three machines follow you in the rear.

"Fuck bot huh? Yeah something like that, Biomorph. Almost wish you were one of the stupid ones." a particularly dense field of high amperage arcing crackles around the cyborg's feet and arms, filling the air with the smell of carbon and ozone. "So that for jerking someone off?" You had no time to stop Carl. it was too late. Thankfully their sense of patience is as augmented as their flesh.
---
>time skip
>harass...talk with the other biological unit.
>Ask about the location you are headed to. put carl away.
>>
>>3172146
i have changed my vote and hopefully we can do this without making them suspicious
>>
>>3172074
New Quest: get Carl some motherfucking noodles
>>
>>3172143
yes.
>>3172146
im sorry I missed your roll, I will compensate on the next result based on if no roll is higher than that one. TL/DR: 79 banked for next turn as fail safe.
>>
>>3172147
>Ask about the location you are headed to. put carl away.
>>
File: zerg-rush-gif-1.gif (1.2 MB, 320x180)
1.2 MB
1.2 MB GIF
Did someone mention trying to summon Skaali to distract the cyborgs and robots?
>"Hey you guys wanna see something cool?"
>starts fucking dancing
>Skaali start popping out the wood work
>>
>>3172156
>>3172156
>>Ask about the location you are headed to. put carl away.

"Carl is still adjusting to recent changes." The taller male figure cranes his head you walk. "Must take a while gettin' use'to a worm up your ass." failing to see the point you move on "Probably so. Though I prefer a maxillary entry. You talk, so lets talk. Human? Common enough here. So probably. Location? Lower levels, but seemingly well kept, indicative of a reasonable population, or perhaps heavy automation in a preserved state." he remains silent, but is an aggressive personality type. "Dont go spoiling the surprise...my mechanical friend." The little convoy comes to a halt as he grabs you by the armored collar.

"Listen here ya overgrown genital wart, Quit proddin for information. Yeah, we're goin in deep, deep enough to be forgotten, and we kinda like it that way. You galivatin' about, killin this an' that, makinthe fukin' Skaali smarter, Blowin our damn power with your rebootin of the grid up top. Do you just walk around an' push buttons cause ya can? Are ya a fuckin child in there? Fuck! You know how much harder life is gonna be now, wait, fuck, biomorph, you dont care. Just want to eat shit till someone kills ya right?"

While he had been ranting, you started a chemical reaction in Carl's gut, it was small and controlled, but there was enough acid in there to potentially melt this fellow's head. Which would likely be a sure death, but the temptation was there. How very human of you. Despite his ranting, the cyborg did provide a fair amount of unintentional data. Your calm demeanor gave away that you were processing the conversation, the female picked up on it quickly. "Shut up Mitchell, you are feeding it. Just with your words instead of whats left of your carcass."

You tap in sequence on the floor, to the tune of the Skaali. "Shit won't work here cock smoke, plates are too thick." it was worth a try.
>>
>>3172167
and ill be back later today. time to sleep.
>>
>>3172150
more like excuse me i just got back to the computer noticed this >>3172117 plan and changed my vote to it
is it forbidden to roll when changing vote?
also thank you qm
>>3172147
>Ask about the location you are headed to. put carl away.
also your description remedied me of this pic related
>>3172164
yep and like that but also from above and below
>>
>>3172167
>You galivatin' about, killin this an' that
I remember someone did a thing and there was a post about a population getting jettisoned into space? Or was that a past record?

>makinthe fukin' Skaali smarter,
Wait you can make them smarter?

>Blowin our damn power with your rebootin of the grid up top
Hey you can't be hogging all the power

>Do you just walk around an' push buttons cause ya can? Are ya a fuckin child in there? Fuck!
Technically?

>You know how much harder life is gonna be now, wait, fuck, biomorph, you dont care. Just want to eat shit till someone kills ya right?"
And for the Bantz
>>
>>3172167
Oh well.

3 guns wield by terminators behind us, and 2 cyborgs ahead that will kill us in a moment .

if we don t encounter anything that start a fight with them, they are going to polverize us in seconds for other strange movements.

And if they sell us to a corp, it s pretty much game over since the corp will have some experience in dealing with similar beings, and they will just experiment on us until death.
>>
>>3172210
we had to run away. we got caught up in greed.
>>
>>3172164
That was an idea.
>>
>>3172216
Greed?
>>
>>3172240
of more knowledge, eating them and getting their equipment.
>>
-----------------------------------------
>GATE 1: INOP: POWER UNAVIL.
>GATE 2: Explosive charge activated.
A pop followed by kalxxons kick off behind the sealed door you walked through earlier, significant screeching can be heard as autogun fire sounds out, eventually the sounds of tortured metal can be heard and the bugs calling out in triumpth. Red light continues to pulse from a paper thin gap under the door as the klaxons get destroyed one by one eventually returning to silence. Hmm.
>>Local systems deenergized prior to MX event. last updated 578 days ago.
-----------------------------------------
I still don't know what this accomplished.

>>3172244
tbf I don't think we ate anymore than like. 10 living people? And we only ate all the corpses in the morgue. And that hit squad was practically asking for it. We're the LEAST invasive Biomorph on this station I bet. Probably.

>>3172167
Ask them if they got any noodle. We demand noodles for substance.
Can we change Carl's biology to maximize the nutrients and Biomass we can can absorb through noodles?
>>
>>3172167
Tell them they're annoyingly competent.

Maybe they could point us at a softer, less wary prey.

Besides they don't seem to have much biomass, so it's not like they're terribly appealing as food.
>>
>>3172167
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0arsPXEaIUY
Is our Mimic ability good enough to change our form into something cute and derpy? Bitches love the cute.
>>
>>3173389
If we can then I am super on board with this.
>>
>>3172173
interestingly close to what i was thinking.
>>3172178
1.not our fault
2.Gave them stimuli and offered communication instead of purging, you might have also fed them something rich in mutagens. twice.
3.Arguably correct.
4.We are barely over a week old. maybe two at tops.
5.Arguably correct.
>>3172210
its probably not that bad.
>>3172244
displaying a deep understanding of abstract concepts.
>>3173141
tl/dr:
-Gate 1 was the hidden ramp in the floor you walked down which was being molested by the giant monster who the bugs ate. you are now being kidnapped.
-Gate 2 was the thing you tripped over and twisted your ankle on while walking past the bugs. It was full of refined biomass liquid which would have given you three more upgrade points had it been explored. Granted you might have also been eaten by bugs. When you "opened it" from the terminal, it used explosive charges. Bugs went in and ate it instead.
-578 days ago is the last time anyones fucked with the terminal's MX (maintenance) records/ settings.
-Arguably the nicest biomorph the station has seen. We've probably yet to eat anyone who really didn't deserve it, though indirectly we have caused more loss of life than that, granted its also created a lot of change.
-Noodles can be optimized. we have the biomass.
>>3173333
noted.
>>3173389
outside of carl, with our intial low level mimic skill we would have looked like a derpy, shitty copy of a snake. enough to pass for something maybe natural in the dark or at a glance.
>>
>>3173516
How much biomass would it cost, and would we be considered cute?
Also if the terminators have so much beef withe the aliens could they pay us in gear and refined biomass to deal with them?
>>
>>3173516
>full of refined biomass liquid
>3 more upgrade points
we need to hunt that swarm of skaali
>>
>>3173531
I agree. Those ungrateful cunts.
>>
>>3173535
yeah. Still, we need to find a way to escape from this guys. Or kill them.
>>
>>3173566
>Past that, someone we know thinks its worth figuring you out without cuttin' you apart.
desu I'm kind of curious who this person is and I'm hoping we could form some kind of mutual relationship with someone. An ally. Someone who would hopefully help us kill those thieving bugs.
>>
>>3173600
i m curious as well. But i don t know if we can create a mutual relationship with him.
>>
>>3173611
or her.

or whatever this entity is.


>>
>>3173526
You are alerady a mimic, the investment has been made. Inside carl it lets you change simple facial features for a limited time. Outside carl you can attempt to mimic other lifeform's shapes, inhabit corpses, wear clothing, use a voice. As for biomass, probably not, gear, probably yes.
>>3173535
Whats in motion gains momentum every moment its not stopped.
---
>>3172167
The walk continues in modest silence the tunnel stretching onward past your field of view, however eventually the group turns and guides you through a side access door and down a staircase. You note numerous scanners blasting you with various frequencies of electromagnetic noise, and behind them semi concealed panels for automated weapons. Carl catches what is likely a sliding bulkhead firewall, several of them actually. This place is well defended despite the unguarded look. After a relatively short flight of stairs and out a small security door that the lumbering machines have to duck under, you find yourself somewhere very unexpected. On the outside of the station. Sort of. Its a bit disorienting; the open space with multiple AG fields creates a place where there are three dimensional living space built up and down with people walking on an apparent cavernous ceiling and floor. Its apparent that this is an old section of the station, to the point where more structures were built around it over the years,eventually sealing it off from the void, and around those, even more structure. A lot of older stations outside of civilized space are like that, an ever accumulating pile of man made detritus.

"Welcome to the void slum. Now move."
---
>Gawk like a stupid asshole
>move
>Examine people as you move.
>Smell that?

1d100 and a choice
>>
>>3174502
Gawk like a stupid asshole.
>>
Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>3174524
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>3174502
>Smell that?
Noodles?
>>
Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>3174502
>>Smell that?
Time for big finds
>>
Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>3174502
>>Gawk like a stupid asshole
Then move
Maybe we can be spotted as a noob, and someone will try and take us down a deserted alley way.
Then we can get a quick bite to eat.
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>3174502
>Gawk like a stupid asshole

In fact, I am gawking. So, the floor is the station's walls? And there are weird field things that create a magical dome of science for this pplz to live here? Can we break those?
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3174502
>Smell that?
>>
Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>3174502

>Smell that?

Probably not
>>
>>3174981

No wait, I smell it...what is it?
>>
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>>3174993
>>
>>3174993
A smelly smell, that smells smelly.
>>
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>>3175065
>>
>>3175065
*braaaaaaap*

> Sniff, snifffffff
>>
>>3175127
COULD WE GIVE CARL A VAGINA?
>>
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>>3174993
>>
>>3174993
>>
Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>3174502
>Smell that?
>>
What kind of answer would Carl give ?
Something like this ?

"Gentlemens after today work i m quite famished, so don t mind me if i stop a moment for order a good old meal. What are those eyes ? Everyone needs to eat everyday."
-----

Maybe we could create some problems in this bar and flee. It s an option, and people will shoot at each other instead of us.
>>
>>3174993
He who smelt it, dealt it
>>
>>3174981
>95: Rampage. Noodle rampage.
Carl's brain was stimulated by external chemical data. It was not exactly the same as his memory knew it to be, but the commonality was there. Yes. He was sure of it. "bug. There are noodles here." your mounting concern was justified as his higher functions of logic shut down in the face of the core reptilian brain quickly taking over. Your modifications to enhance muscle memory and combat reflexes along with gross motor skills has created a more instinctively driven Carl. Blood violently shunts from your host's core into his limbs as muscle fibers bunch to their maximum compression, kinetic energy stored. "Noodle time folks." Carls barely audible whisper is picked up by high quality acoustic sensors from the group, the two lead members turning their heads to examine what the hell their captive was talking about.

Kinetic energy released. Carl near explosively propelled his armored frame upward into the vaulted space of the void slum, escaping the lower floor's AG field and hitting the next level's layer of artificial gravity. A burst of automatic fire skims by your head and you notice the figures below you halting the machine's attack. The effect of switching orientation was lost on Carl in his maddened state, and did not bother you overly much. In a smooth twist he went from careening face first towards the "ceiling street" to landing feet first with a hollow thud, now hidden by an array of roof tops and tarp covered store fronts.

"Smell it? Well, you probably can't, but you can smell what I smell right?" You can. Its growing stronger, and you are keen to follow it. Carl is keen to follow it. The empathetic feedback is strong with this, you try to control it the best you can, but are limited to being aware his desire is not your own. Mostly. You would like to sample the noodles. Surely there is biomass in them.

After a hurried walk down the street with various locals getting out of your way, the destination is found. A small mobile restaurant. It's dining area is hidden by a hanging sheet of fabric, and is nothing more than 3 stools placed in front of a miniature kitchen and slab of plastic serving as a table. The cook keeps his back to you, "What'd ya want? Menus in the same place it's always been." The base urge to simply screech noodles is suppressed, you glace upward at the menu, an old dot matrix display featuring the fare of the day.
---
>Spicy Diziz rat raman
>Skaali grub tempura with earth spice
>The Regular - today with meat!
>Chef's choice challenge

1d100 and a choice.
>>
Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>3178202
>Spicy Diziz rat raman
>Skaali grub tempura with earth spice
>The Regular - today with meat!
>Chef's choice challenge
All of the above motherfuckers. Feed the noodle beast!
Modify Carl for maximized noodle intake!
>>
>>3178202
I would also like some noodles to go. Surprise me.
>>
Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>3178202
>>3178222
ALL OF IT
>>
>>3178264
>>3178274
>60: alright big eaters. lets do this. Food battle.
---
The cook never turns to face you through the entire process as he minces meat and throws a wad of noodles into a broth he spices without measurement. His skin was weathered, but not wrinkled, his head shaven. Neither fat nor thin, built solid but not massive. The rat meat was thrown into a small skillet over the real gas flame, sizzling as it fried in a mixture of chilies and oil. Finally he threw it into a cheap little styrafoam cup with no real order or ceremony, and dumped a handful of seemingly random toppings from fried breadcrumbs to chopped purple stuff that smelled like onions. You caught his eyes looking back at you now and again as he worked, reflected in the mirror from an old vehicle. some technology is too cheap to replace. Carl sighed as he began eating, the vapors wafting up like the souls of those long forgotten. and now eaten.

With no intent of moving, the chef takes the hint as your host refuses to move. "Not too many around here have enough flesh on their bones to require much more than the occasional snack, I mostly do this for fun ya know? At least those that still intake orally." Carl chokes down the last of the spicy broth and scrapes out his cup, slamming it down onto the counter. "Thankfully I'm here to make up for that, huh?" you catch the muscles of the chef's head bunching up on his scalp, its not visible, but that group movement is from a smile. He reaches for one drawer on a small refrigerated cabinet, hands hovering before he stops and reaches for another. The meat is dredged through a viscous, mucous like material before being covered in breadcrumbs and fried in the same oil that just cooked your rat. Simple but filling. You sample the flavors as Carl takes a huge bite out of the steaming fried meat. He suffers burns in his mouth that you quickly repair. "Take it easy Carl. You know I don't want to have to save your life again when you are eating." He chokes out a muffled" Whaf?" which causes the chef's brows to raise. Carl really needs to develop that internal dialog when he is under pressure or not thinking, you chastise him for it.

The meat is good, its been tenderized, seasoned, there are many exotic hydrocarbons that stimulate the associated lobes of the brain, as well as a tactile sense of crunch and softness. But this is not grub. You've eaten a lot of grubs. This is Skaali though. "Its not grub." you direct to the chef. "Are you sayin' im not giving you whats on the menu?" as you take control back from carl, you give the meat an experimental chew, pushing acids up from your gullet into his mouth that liquifiy the food for quick examination based on what you've processed in the past. "Its adult. This is ravager." The chef shrugs in defeat. "Got me there, fine pallet you have. Real gourmand eh?" He looks over his drawers and settles on small slab of blue meat that he minces.

1/2
>>
>>3178308
His hand works quickly with the unassuming knife, despite it's shoddy appearance and cheap plastic handle, its very sharp. The meat is soon minced and cooking in a small cast iron pot full of boiling broth that has aromatics you've never smelled before. Carl notes Cardamom, Coriander and Licorice, but not quite. Alien herbs. Reaching up to a small top shelf your chef grabs a glass vial, inside are writing black insects. "Death's spice. When consumed, they shut down all muscle control. Its quick." He crushes the bug between two fingers and swirls the tips of his digits into the boiling broth, unperturbed by the heat. Another container with a small green leaf, it's pungent smell overwhelms the small space, best described as "fresh. green." He looks at the leaf. "This, this is also poison, but it binds with the previous one. Negates it. Alone, it causes internal hemorrhaging."

The leaf is casually dropped into the soup, which quickly turns from a pale blue to dull purple, to a strange pink as it cooks. He serves it to you in the small cast iron pot, with a cast iron spoon. "Eat it while it's hot." Carl looks at the pot with apprehension, and seeks your guidance. You give him the mental suggestion of your absolute indifference. With some trepidation he raises the spoon to his mouth. Somehow without seeing it the chef seems to know right when it hits Carl's lips. "You sure about that one?" Its a challenge. Carl is confident in you to save his ass, and you appreciate the trust. The meat is delicious, but you've had it before. It causes both you and Carl to grin. The broth is an experience to be sure, oddly metallic, like the smell of a titanium fire, but if that was somehow spiced so well as to be tasty. It burns the throat on the way down, but not from the heat, there is a profound sense of suffering caused by the chemical reactions with it, the pain adding to the experience for Carl, distracting from the offensive notes and enhancing elements that would have been previously overlooked. You let him experience it, even as his eyes start to water. The noodles themselves are almost pedestrian, a simple generic starch item. As Carl eats he pounds on the simple plastic slab serving as a counter top, trying to swallow down the food, even with your modifications to his biology.

In the distance you detect heavy footfalls, but its still far away. Still searching. "So pal. want to keep going? Not many humans could stomach that." Carl just nods, because he cant speak right now with how swollen his throat and face are. "Alright. One more, then I'm closed for the day. Good thing for you it's been slow. Seems my regulars got scared off."

2/3
>>
>>3178328
Your chef walks off, and for the first time you get a good look at his face. Its weathered, but again, like the rest of him, just nondescript. You sit in silence, waiting, knowing that until this is over you wont be disturbed. Its a gut feeling, but a correct one.

The Chef returns with a second small stove top, and a large medical cooler. The contents are obviously from aliens, and apparently...yes; one human foot. Its very apparent at this point, he is not a normal chef, and knows you are not a normal customer. He cooks, you eat. This goes on to a point where you begin to feel sluggish. "So what I want to know is; what's a biomorph doing here?" The footfalls are louder now.
---
>Keep eating. 1d100 (hard dc)
>I was told the best noodles were here. (mid dc)
>Trying to stay alive. (low dc)
>What do you think I am doing here? (no dc)

3/3
>>
>>3178355
>other
Can I do other?
I smelled your noodles from across the slums.

If not then
>I was told the best noodles were here. (mid dc)
>>
>>3178355
>What do you think I am doing here? (no dc)
Here's a hint for the noodles consider yourself having a repeat customer.
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3178355
>I was told the best Noodles were here
>Trying to stay alive. (low dc
"Here at your stall? Because my nose told me there were some great Noodles here and it sure was right. In general? Same as any other living thing, staying alive and personal growth. Muslows' pyramid and all that."
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3178355
>>Keep eating.
>>
Rolled 82 (1d100)

>>3178355
>Keep eating. 1d100 (hard dc)
>>
Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>3178355

>Keep eating. 1d100 (hard dc)
"Here at your stall? Because my nose told me there were some great Noodles here and it sure was right. In general? Same as any other living thing, staying alive and personal growth. Muslows' pyramid and all that."
>>
>>3178547
>82: Seems legit.
You will Carl onward, the feast has just begun. Its clear now this chef is no common man, and wants to see what you are capable of. There is no room to disappoint.

Dish after dish comes forward, some mundane, others near toxic, but all capable of biosynthesis. Between and during the meal, conversation, food for the mind. The Chef is of course flattered that you came all the way from "below side" via a truly impressive unassisted leap due to his cooking, all the more so that you are moving in an unpowered hardsuit that should be stiff enough to halt movement. Little witticisms and quips play out between mouthfuls of alien flesh. Eventually the veneer of subtle prodding gives way to outright interrogation over dinner on your nature, and who sent you. The truth is, to your knowledge, no one did, and you make that abundantly evident.

Somewhere along the meal, your captors had found you, but given wide berth, standing outside the tent, their legs visible behind the cloth curtain isolating you from the rest of the world. Finally, the man, truly out of food turns to face you. "Here's whats up. You seem benign enough, if clueless. There isin't enough biomass here to be worth much to you, and your cognitive level of development surpasses any of the previous biomorphs, to include the big beaked bastard you fed to the Skaali. You have needs, we have needs, so ask some questions and figure out it out.

>Carl has gained improved synthesis for noodle based food, gaining twice the normal biomass from such meals.
---
tell me about...
>the void slum
>you.
>noodles.
>the people here
>the people who found me
>the things I broke.
>Biomorphs.
>Angel station
>Hardsuit
>Equipment
>What you want from me.
>Opinion on me.
>other (write in)

1d100, ill pick the top choices when i wake up.
>>
Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>3178569
What to do about the Skaali. If they're intelligent then can they be reasoned with? Trained? If we interfere now with their development then could we guide it?
>>
>>3178569
Hmm. First things first,
>you.
>What you want from me.
>Opinion on me.
He doesn't seem like a bad guy, but still, we can't be too careful. Then, we ask about
>the people who found me
and
>Biomorphs.
As it's obvious we're not the only known biomorphs, we should know more about the others, as well as the people hunting us.
>>
Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>3178585
Oops, almost forgot.
>>
Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>3178569
>Biomorphs.

>What you want from me.
>>
Rolled 9 (1d100)

>>3178569
i want to know more about the chef
>>
>>3178569
>the people who found me

"What are the cunts behind me?"
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>3178726
ayayay
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>3178569
Woah are you the guy were supposed to talk to? Please say yes.
Can we be friends?
>>
Why not pick all of the above?
>>
>>3178875
QM is a LAZY BOI
>>
>>3178569
Can we invest biomass to increase the strength and durability of his digestive system again (jaw strength, teeth, throat, stomach, intestines)? And can we make it so we and his body can break down and repurpose calcium, keratin and shells even better?
>>
>>3178886
virutal life lazy. real life busy as fuck. carl update tonight.
>>
>>3178586
It's mostly those crime families right? First they wanted to beat the shit out of us for attempted insurance fraud, then maybe (not really) killing their cheap and expensive hit squad, the migration of people...
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3178569
>you.
And why fucks outside are staying outside.
And after that
>Biomorphs
>What you want from me
>>
>>3178577
>63: Them bugs
You pull some meat off a piece of chitin and chew in thought, the material was a good reference to the skaali themselves. You let Carl take this one. "So, are smart bugs better bugs?" the chef grunts then speaks "For the bugs. They've left us alone and acted as a living barrier for a while now, you came in and messed up the dynamic. Our visual feeds are getting cut one by one, but from what we've seen so far they are adapting. Fast. Only time will tell what happens next, but with the Skaali its sure to be response to external stimuli."
>>3178585
>>3178587
>67: I've got a bunch of questions.
Your abrupt shift in personality as you take control back from Carl doesn't seem to jar the man much. "Who are you?" he grins slightly, its crooked. "I'm in charge of this place. Have been for a while now. Not much past it." he looks at his nails casually. "You probably want to know what we want. Well, nothing, but here you are, so we gotta find a use for you, otherwise its obvious that it becomes a liability. The security team standing behind you are pretty good folks, for three of em' being illegal AI. The other two, you can ask em yourself. But they would be the ones who decided to bring you in to me, so you might not be to happy about it, but the other choice was dead. For what I think of it, so far you passed the sniff test. Doubt I can trust you to not eat people, but the agenda you have is solid enough. Survive. We have that in common and I doubt there is any point of our plan that would benefit your survival by betrayal in the short to mid term. Besides, we've seen about 8 other biomorphs over the years, usually some big rampaging monster, tide of consuming flesh, or distributed consciousness. You are the first example of this iteration, something akin to civilized or at least cognitive. The others never lasted too long, and we left the last one in place as a guard dog." he offers you a glass of cloudy fluid, you take it without too much concern. "Whole milk. Not bad?" you swirl it around and detect lipids, trace sugars, protein and aminos. "Fantastic."
>>3178624
You swirl your cup, enjoying the conversation "So really, what about you?" the man shrugs "Not much to say, full body conversion. First gen tech retrofitted to mostly current standards. Loose a little more of me each year, gain a little more clang along the way." Machine? hmm. In your moment of quiet carl blurts out "Who are the chucklefucks behind me? Their history." You enjoy the subtle layer of antagonism added by forcing them to stand quiet. Instead of the man answering you hear a voice from behind you "We are all we are because of the man in front of you, which right now is alive, which is more than you were going to be, so show some damn respect." The buttstock of a heavy weapon hits you in the head, but really doesn't do any more damage than is superficial, within moments the gash caused by the strike seals up. The chef looks at you. "Like I said. Ask them."
>>
>>3179482
>The buttstock of a heavy weapon hits you in the head, but really doesn't do any more damage than is superficial, within moments the gash caused by the strike seals up.
I wonder if there's enough meat in them to make a meal.
>>
>>3178871
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v4FYFsLhuss
"So you are the guy we were supposed to meet then?" Carl prods the cybernetic chef. "That would be me. Right place, unexpected setting. I get out here and cook to remind myself of what I am, or at least what I was, even if i'm forgetting the taste of my own cooking. In a lot of ways this was better than what I had planned." carl looks down and back then to the man. "So. We are friends now, any need of a mortician?" The Chef's face barely move but becomes much more serious. "Friends, too early to be sure...dont know a thing about you mr. meat suit, the biomorph was most forthcoming. The most we pulled up on you was prior military service, and a fraudulent chop shop on the topside.
>>3179161
"hey, look, I play host, the bug plays brain, we all get along." Carl gets queried for information you didn't let go so easily. "So its a mutual existence between you two?" You feel intense electromagnetic energy wash through Carl, likely active scanning. Its clearly coming from the Chef. "We're learning as we go, the bug's taken the best care of me it can, in its own fucked up way." the chef just hmms at you both. "well, considering that several crime families want you dead, I guess you have reason to stay down here for a while, which means we might have to find work for you after all eh?"
>>3179346
>87: Digging deeper.
"I want the historical data on my genetic kin." you cooly state. "No deal. I can give you the report archives and observational data on the ones we interacted with, after that its what we scraped from the intranet community. Nothing you wouldn't have gained with time. "We do however have cold storage samples of some of them. the biomorphs. if you are...you know...interested." In your minds eye you look at Carl, he looks at you. Of course you are fucking interested. "Yes." that crooked grin again. "Yes to what, biomorph?" You feel an old pain, that empty hunger again, it comes from no where and eats at your facade. "YES" collect yourself.. "TO your work...in exchange for...THE FLESH!" you run your hands through your hair shaking, whispering out a rasp. "anything to fill this hole." whoops. The man hands you a small baked grain and sugar good. "Eat it, get some rest, look around. Be human. We all practice it here, those of us who were, those of us who never were. Its good habit." You look at the golden disk, its surface cracked like a dry lake bed. "Chinese almond cookie." you eat it. neither you nor carl has any idea what an almond is, but it must be pretty good. The augmented chef inhales the chemical fumes from a burning stick of some sort. Carl informs you that it's a cigarette. Behind you mechanical footsteps clang off into the distance.
---
>Gained 1 carl upgrade. 20 crude biomass left over.
Welcome to the void slum.
>Carl's earned a walk. Its carl time.
>Catch up with the capture crew, see if one of them will talk to you more nicely now.
>See the local sights.
>Look for a terminal.
>>
>>3179497
Now now. Let's not get too hasty. Besides, I bet their meat tastes like car leather.

>>3179482
Alright. Heart to heart time guys. We gotta hash out some plan with the security team. What do they want to do about the skaali and how do they plan to fit us in the equation? We know how to communicate with them, so why not have fight another faction of skaali? Then whoever is left we kill, toss in a few grubs and let the wall of alien regrow? There's only a few dozen if the evolved ones, so if we nip it in the bud soon then problem solved.
>>
>>3179519
This
>Catch up with the capture crew, see if one of them will talk to you more nicely now.
Then this
>Carl's earned a walk. Its carl time.
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3179519
>See the local sights.

Do we roll on this ones? What if we find the FLESH all by ourselves? eks d
>>
Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>3179677
I didn't see any prompt that asked us to roll, but I sure as shit gonna roll now.
>>
Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>3179519
>Carl time.
>>
Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>3179519

>Look for a terminal.

May as well see our kin at work
>>
>>3179890

Holy shit another 95, praise Tzeentch
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3179892
Namefag, really?

Also >>3179519
> Carl time
>>
>>3179677
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ud5yDjM63I
>95:Hackerman
You direct Carl out of the small street side restaurant, and onto a long and winding meander through the "upper half" of the void slum. The locals here have done a jood job of resource exploitation and conservation. Your handwork is visible as rolling brownouts shut down sectors at a time on both the top and bottom of the slum, like some sort of giant analog computer flickering it's function lights. Numerous bits of equipment seem to fail periodically due to the power cycling, or enter a standby state that requires one of the people to manually cycle into a proper mode of operation. It gives Carl an idea. You scout out the sector you are in and eventually find a terminal near a small seemingly forgotten storefront, its windows long barred and dusty. (Actual glass, wow. Per carl thats a big deal. Silica. wow.) The next rolling brownout sets Carl into motion, he finds a small junction on the terminal and connects it to the wrist computer which apparently supplys just enough power to start rudimentary processes in this dead state. He explains that older tech was made to be on full time, and if power was lost it was expected to be catastrophic, so few makers really put too much on the low power state security. After trying several universal "admin" passwords, one works. "EV1|_|0rd$3xD3@th" Notorious hacker of several centuries past, finally fading into obscurity since human contact with xenos.

The door "clicks" open just a crack as you check pertinent controls that are available. The inside is neglected as well. It certainly was a shop of sorts, now dust covered. Seemed to have specialized in electronic repair and computer work of it's era, as well as selling simple consumer goods. There is equipment here that would allow you to service your hardsuit. Hmm. You notice that some of the items here are of a much newer vintage, but stop at about 20 years ago, at least per carl's judgement. The only indication of life in the area is that it still has power. How? Looking around the countertops you find it; A small ladder leads up (down?) into a simple top level loft. An angled sheet of corrugated plexiglass lets in the light of the miniature city. An old plus bed invites your host to sit, gloved hands running over grey sheets. Nearby is a small computer in it, next to a mostly...skeletal humanoid figure who is studded with mechatronics. A cable seems to be running out the back of her neck into the device.

1/2
>>
>>3179988
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BY1OvH5D-Gs
In an era where we are stuck with unique ID's it just serves to show you are the same mobile poster from one to the next. Also that roll. Nice. 93 carl time will be happening.
>>3180034
Following the computer's various plugs you find the power source. Sometimes things are so obvious they are easy to miss. This was one of them. A near ancient "Small" scale reactor column sits as a support structure within the shanty style loft, its metal ID plate lists it as...badly corroded, but something about earth orb. Something about this size was probably used for a space fighter once upon a time. Left in a low power state they can burn through a solid hydrogen fuel pile very, very, slowly. They can also explode. You spot text flashing on the computer. "Hello? Hello?" its today's date. just a moment ago. Next to the computer is a small ashtray with a pack of cigarettes and a small bottle of gin.
----
Congratulations. You have gained an apartment/ Lair.
>Charge your hardsuit.
>Store your hardsuit, its fucking carl time. (banked 93)
>See the local sights (currently 77)
>Spend a boring night absorbing information on electronic repair and programming.
>Investigate the computer.
>Other, (write in. subject to GM sanity check.)

roll a 1d100 and make a choice. a natural 1 can nuke a saved roll.
>>
Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>3180059

>Store your hardsuit, its fucking carl time. (banked 93)
>Charge your hardsuit.

Don't see why both of these can't be done together
>>
>>3180059
>Investigate the computer.
Fuck is this one of those Cyberpunk, Ghost in the Shell scenarios? Is corpse 100% dead while the mind is in the computer?
>>
>>3180059
>Spend a boring night absorbing information on electronic repair and programming.
Also this with our potentially new roommate. It'd be nice to have a nerd help us mod the suit. Or better yet, I wonder if it would be possible to upload them onto the suit.
>>
>>3180096

Support, you also gotta roll pal
>>
Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>3180120
Woops. Missed that.
>>
Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>3180059
>Spend a boring night absorbing information on electronic repair and programming.
>>Investigate the computer
>>
Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>3180059
>Store your hardsuit, its fucking carl time. (banked 93)

Fuck it I can do better.
>>
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>>3180059
Also I really more meant namefag also being a chaos worshiper.

But while on the topic of
> muh IDs

Yeah that's a REAL difficult work around.

I mean, just because they make you wear the gold star doesn't mean you go around with a big face nose and devil horns.

I just don't like people metaplaying character roles like "ChaosMcSirMan".

It's not even good shitposting.

But then again, neither is this. I just want to be able to call namefags as such when they have badwrong fun, then argue about it, then tell everyone they should stop bringing it up and just move on so that I can steal the metal high ground.

But seriously, gotta do something between updates.
>>
>>3180059
Also for future emotional manipulation, we can claim the rogue/free AI don't know what it's like to have a compulsion to act a certain way always pushing on you, forcing you to obey if your will slips for even a second. That it's probably a complete fluke you even managed to develop an actually cognizant identity not slaved forever to inborn preset directives making us a mere tool of destruction and terror used by . . . Whoever or whatever made us.

Gosh, wouldn't it be nice to eat THEM.
>>
>>3180168
>>3179519
Inspired by

> TO your work...in exchange for...THE FLESH!" you run your hands through your hair shaking, whispering out a rasp. "anything to fill this hole." whoops.

WE'RE SO ALONE, EVERYONE HATES US JUST BECAUSE OF WHAT WE ARE.

Of course, we never said we were unhappy with what we are, or that we want to break free from the glory of consumption.

But I bet we already hit a note with some of them. They wouldn't have run away here otherwise.
>>
>>3180171
Wow, I bet this clever guy is also handsome and well endowed, like all rich men are.

I'd let you fuck my wife!
>>
>>3180175
Why thank you good sir! But you see, I have a terrible secret . . .
>>
>>3180176
Ah fucked it up.

Now everyone will know how to samefag.
>>
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>>3180179
>>
I have no clue what's going on. What is this madness.

>>3180059
Check for a fridge or pantry. Maybe they might have some stuff with a lot of preservatives.
>>
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>>3180182
NIGGA IT'S CARL TIME THAT'S WHAT'S GOOD.
>>
>>3180072
>>3180120
>>3180072
>>3180059
>>3180162
>Store your hardsuit, its fucking carl time. (banked 93)
Its tempting to just press into the next task, but the words of the Chef ring in your mind. "Try" something about humans, but not eating them. This was a mystery for tomorrow's biomorph.

Yes. You should relax, see what life has beyond survival.Slipping out the hardsuit wasn't too bad, groaning motors protest the manual actuation but you are pretty indifferent. Its just gear. Gear that is now laid out on the bed like an empty person. A well taped and modified plug sports a universal adapter head near the bed, you leaf through the fitments until you spot one that fits the suit. It immediately pops with the smell of ozone and begins to take a charge. Old clothes end up flung in a pile near the bathroom.

Looking around as you walk past the desiccated corpse a small "wet" shower and toilet greets you. How horrid. A species so inefficient as to need an entire logistics train for waste. Carl takes your mental goading well enough. You are serious, but lighthearted about it. The war cascading over his frame feels...good. It feels good, you note the paths the streams of water take as they shift and dance in command to the cascade of stinging droplets. Steam fills the little room, which seems like a nice environment.You exhale a breath of humid air, really nice. It makes you wish the station was not so dry. Carl works over a bottle of very expired and slightly Congealed shampoo that is gradually coaxed back to life under the water, old perfumes hinting at what once was. Instead of drying off you simply absorb the excess water through Carl's skin, then drink like a stupid dog from the shower's faucet. You were thirstier than expected. Soon you...oh no. Car has to pee. You blank out for the experience, and come to after carl's sympathetic nervous system sighs in abject relief. Yes. Humans can be quite vile.

"Come on Carl, the night's young." He grins "You know there's no night or day cycle here." You wiggle in his guts enough to cause discomfort "Go do your human things. I'll sit this one out." He looks in the mirror for a bit and then talks out loud. "Sure. Bug, biomorph, whatever you call yourself. This has been the wildest ride of my life so far. Crazier than drop pods into Skaali territory on multiple planets, crazier than getting caught with my CO's daughter and spaced". Yeah, those were crazy times. You've been looking over his memories for a while now, like a good book. "Carl, I already know..." he cuts you off "No, I'm vocalizing this. Thanks. Alright? Its what we do."

>>3180182
You look under the bed and find a small flat fridge, really nothing more than a cooled drawer with a weak irradiation feature to kill off microbial life. Its empty aside from a yellow bottle of mustard that is shaped like an old earth barrel, topped with a red squirt nipple. Fuck. How old is this?
>>
>>3180212
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Fuv_kG07Xg
The rest of the time is spent changing into what Carl would deem acceptible clothing. Looks sharp. Maybe it's dated. Carl is still an old man at heart, granted down here everything is dated. So there is that. Your tail flicks in idle thought. "Bug. Stop that. Makes me feel like I'm going to ship myself." you do it again. "dammit worm. Alright." Carl digs his hands into his belly trying to get at you, but its more like a series of pats and rubs, which actually feels really great to your nerve ending dense skin. The mental images you provide Carl are a bit vile for his taste, which was the intent. "You are gross. You are a foul, bad parasite. Symbiote." The computer screen catches your host's eye, more and more text is piling up in a log.

>Help. Help.
>Please halp.
>Plox. Come on handsome.
>I just want out of this fucking box, everyone thinks i'm dead from the Skaali.
>So you talk to yourself in the shower...kk...
>Dude, look at me.
>I'm fine if you are a little bipolar, I just need out. Plllzzzz.
>Look you can keep the place, I'm full virtual now, I just want onto the nullslum. I'm not mad.
>you can keep this place. Really.
>The corpse really doesn't bother you?
----
>going out for the night 93 is still in effect. will happen upon hitting up the streetlife.
pick 1, roll 1d100.
>Sorry. Time to party. Ill be back later, and you'll still be here. (head out now, you WILL be back here.)
>What do I have to do? (comply, miss the fun. have a conversation now.)
>>
>>3180220
addendum: 1 carl mutation point still in the bank.
>>
Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3180220

>What do I have to do? (comply, miss the fun. have a conversation now.)

May as well help out
>>
>>3180220
>Sorry. Time to party. Ill be back later, and you'll still be here. (head out now, you WILL be back here.)
I'm on the hype train. It's Carl Time.

>>3180221
Invest the Carlbucks into stronker carl?
>>
Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>3180226
Fuck it. Supporting. There's always the next night.
>>
>>3180228
looks like we rolled too low. Carl time it is then.
>>
>>3180221

Well using the last upgrade table for Carl....

>Berserker Glands
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>>3180230
what's that?
>>
>>3180232

Flooding Carl's system with combat stims
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>>3180230
still going to bed but checking the thread.

so tired and sick i read this as "berserker Gonads." amazing.
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>>3180220
>Sorry. Time to party. Ill be back later, and you'll still be here. (head out now, you WILL be back here.)
>>
Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>3180220
>Sorry. Time to party. Ill be back later, and you'll still be here. (head out now, you WILL be back here.)

> Besides, I already fucked up messing with the Skraali, I'd like independent confirmation that it's okay to let you out first.
>>
Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>3180220
sorry for party rocking time 2 party
>>
>>3180220
Well, so much for going the murderous, never-ending hunger killer biomorph route.
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3180220
"Sorry, going out right now, but when I come back I'll help, okay?"
>>
>>3178942
i think we can
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>>3180277
ill be back in a few hours to give the results of this roll. Probably around 5:30pm CST
>>
>>3180277
Carl glances at the computer, its messages keep scrolling with a degree of desperation. You give him the mental equivalent of a shrug. "This entity has been here this long" What was not said was implied well enough. Your host sends a small pang of empathetic feedback into you "still pretty cold." He walks over to the small thick laptop like computer, its blue terminal style interface pauses the text as he approaches and begins to type into the command prompt. "I need to read up on what to do downstairs, and decompress tonight. Sit tight." no reply for a moment before text pops up on the screen "Please. Just dont forget about me. I've been trapped so long, I...Just, I will be waiting." Its an odd but small courtesy from your host, but he syncs the wrist computer to the laptop. Without any command from his end the local computer begins copying data over. "News. Chat logs. Stimulus. Thank you. thank you." there is another pause "...I'll see you later. "Carl" Right?" Carl grins slightly then types a three letter response and walks away.

Content with his good deed, you both head down the ladder and out of the little abandoned shop, now yours. "Alright Carl. Go live it up. I'm sitting back for this one."

>>3180277
>93 Bass Boosted to 98
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i01u4zgcTU0

Walking out into the streets of the the void slum is an interesting experience; you still aren't use to it. Glittering lights from small transport vehicles highlight the streets around you, but as you look up you also seethe inverted side of the slum, mirroring the upper half, almost giving the impression of flight, or in carl's case, memories of an orbital insertion. For a moment he starts to recall hitting the group running, the sound of autofire and screams, human and not, before you reach into his subconscious and calm his mind and drag him back to the present.

1/?
>>
>>3181641
Carl walked somewhat aimlessly, just exploring, taking in the sights, passing thoughts back and fourth with you. The little city was unusual, it's inhabitants were mostly self sufficient, and while a majority were synthetic, they still lived out lives that closely resembled any other human settlement. Chatting here and there revealed that most of the population already knew of your existence, which was somewhat unsettling, but as you dwelled on the idea, not unexpected. A lot of expected automation was not in place, partially out of conservation of processing power and resources, but mostly out of a reason to give the population something to do. That mindset seemed to drive the place; "A reason to exist." a heavily mechanized older man put it as Carl sat, munching on some street food. The people here had many affects, not quite outright mimicry for the sake of it, but some behaviors that they wore for so long it became habit, practice, or genuine. You still weren't exactly sure if they were "rogue" constructs, or just illegal modifications, and weren't too concerned. Neither was Carl. The answers would come as you bothered with them. You and Carl wander the streets for a while longer, almost getting ready to call it a night after a few particularly strong alcoholic beverages of unknown providence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kkl7liNVOSs
Music emanated down a small alleyway; to Carl's taste, and admittedly outdated from what you understand of modern culture. The narrow pathway was actually a gap between two massive station sections that had yet to be buried under makeshift habitation modules. Perforated black ceramic flooring tastefully yet unintentionally contrasted with golden padded thermal shields on either side of the alley. Flickering Holograms and neon lights advertising nothing in production anymore served as decoration and low light illumination. Modified senses allowed Carl to see into the dark; using spectrum of light normally allotted to other species or machines, very appropriately so. The occasional set of mechanical eyes waved over you, pinpricks of light in the dark, matched to moving and twisting bodies. along the perimeter of the space there were plenty of individuals in less active states of motion, communicating either by audio or wirelessly. The amount of lowkey electromagnetic radiation in the area was overwhelming. Sometimes you could pick out conversations on certain frequencies, but many simply used encrypted burst communication, sharing ideas and conversation in dense packets of data transmitted all at once. There was a small bar that seemed to be mostly ignored. Oddly enough one of it's patrons was a massive purpose built war machine who tipped back a metal container into a fluid receptacle on it's frame. You subtly eased carl's normal inhibitions, and with that tiny boost of confidence born from a lack of concern, he pressed up to the bar, and sampled several items. Mostly ethanol. Disappointing.

2/?
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>>3181973
and it went something like this unthis unthis unthis
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>>3182034
https://youtu.be/s_RGaSV0KIg
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>>3181973
u ded?
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>>3182085
QM took a nappy. Let him sleep, he's a bit under the weather and needs his rest.
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>>3182090
:( :)
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>>3181973
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tHrhzCIyHs
You found the idea of reducing mental capacity profoundly ignorant, until you thought academically on it. It was an exercise in experimentation with module reduction of the organic components. At least you could assign it value that way. This lasted long enough for your host to eventually make his way to the dance area. Sampling his enjoyment of the activity made the event worthwhile. He was having fun, as were you were by association. Most of the population here found Carl a novelty. An outsider, something new, external stimuli, novelty. It seemed to "bring them to life", and eventually your flesh suit was genuinely enjoying himself without your manipulation; socializing, laughing, telling horrible jokes, and getting along better than he had in years. As the time passed you ever so slightly lamented not pressing on with research of the human electronic repair tomes. Books. Still. Carl time. Recreational stimulants are sampled, and their chemical compounds and nature cataloged. Interesting substances with potential value in high stress applications. It gave you ideas. Free floating genetic potential was shifted there on the dancefloor, as Carl's endocrine system was subtly mutated, various glands enlarging and gaining sinewy mass to mechanically milk excess excretions, others producing complex improved hormones outside his species natural evolutionary path. It has the side effect of making your host feel pretty good, maybe a little larger than life. You'll have to be on guard with that.

>Gained Berserker Glands.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kt4YGeDd7vM
At some point the music began picking up, provoking more energetic expressions of celebration. You noticed the new sensory input first; someone grabbed your wrist. Strong, inorganic, combat capable. You began dumping a cocktail of hormones into Carl's bloodstream, prepared for what came next as his heart sped up to a strobing 210 BPM. Whipping around to meet your opponent, sweat poured down your host's face and body from the revelry and earlier casual stimulant use. Saucer wide pupils fixed on their target, only for a dawning confusion to hit realization. The female mechaug from the capture team. No combat armor, just a form fitting synthetic cocktail like dress clung to decidedly organic curves on her torso. "Eyes up here. What do you think you are doing here, biomorph?" He met the unblinking blue pinholes that served as optics on her metallic head and just shrugged with a grin, still dancing, somewhat terribly but with enough confidence and lack of self regard that it didn't look bad. "You really do just do operate entirely on the fly." Despite lacking facial features and synthesized voice, the apparent disbelief was still there. The ensuing social interactions were stimulating to say the least. The rest of the "night" involved the female staying near by due to a mistrust of your nature and perceived threat.

3/?
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>>3182107
>robo guard keeping an eye on us = new friend
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>>3182107
> Carl's flight or fight response turns to flirt and fuck from the chemicals we dumped into him.

It's just biology.
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>>3182132
>>3182107
Also we can study the pheremonal response of his and her body to use for later so that we can release them to influence other humans.
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>>3182107
Guarded hostility gradually turned to amusement. "Vil" the only name provided, seemed to take a liking to Carl and his apparently chaotic situation as they developed a rapport. She was doubly amused that Carl was actually an old man, or more correctly actually was an old man. Now he wasn't. Didn't feel it, didn't show it. Just dated tastes and ideas about life, but the void was a big place. Was it? Were you really thinking about travel now? The idea wasn't bad...New experiences were always a plus. Vil had become slightly intoxicated via a small supply port to her digestive track, not unlike a proboscis. Efficient. The conversation eventually steered towards herself, and you found out that she was a cultured organic; Machine cloned, chipped, then augmented. Not a human, not a true machine. She explained it as "More of an organic robot, initially. There is an "undesirable" phenomenon of spontaneous awareness with us". Others here were described as otherwise "unauthorized sentients." There was a tinge of melencholoy that vanished just as quickly as it appeared. These organics create fascinating tools to make up for their shortcomings. So many questions for later. For now, the study of the social. Carl and Vil seemed content to dance and banter. You enjoyed the interaction in the mental backseat, Carl's swaying was not entirely unpleasant either. Keeping up, Vil's mechanized limbs didn't seem to bother her, they weren't stock though. Maybe upgraded for non permissive combat environments? Regardless, the display of fluidity was impressive. A few songs later the cyborg leaned in close to Carl, the cool angled slab of her face brushing his cheek, synthesized voice low enough to be considered a poor attempt at a whisper.

"So Carl, who does things on the fly. Who was a boring old man. Ever ride a real motorcycle?" You are unsure that chemically uninhibited behavior is wise. Carl will have none of it. It is Carl time after all, and the recreational chemicals you sampled from his bloodstream have left you, ever so slightly impaired. With a degree of reluctance you relent your concerns.

A short time later you, Carl, and Vil are packed onto an archaic two wheeled machine that was likely built for ritualized suicide via a display of noise and speed, racing down the tight streets of the null slums and to quote Carl "Raising some hell like a bastard."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWkMXbMjEPk
---
Roll 1d100, lets see if you survive this. Best of whenever I get back from doing some work. Carl time isin't over yet. Not by a long shot.

4/4
>>
Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>3182140
>>
Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>3182140
>>
Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>3182140
I'm more worried about breaking her motorcycle or someone's car.
>>
Rolled 48 (1d100)

>>3182140
HIGHWWWAY TOOO HHEELLLL
>>
>>3182148
>>3182148
>81: Holy fuck you didn't kill Carl.
The void slum was a reasonably big place, and there was enough room to tear around parts of it that weren't crowded with structures, and on occasion parts that were. You inwardly cringe at the total lack of risk management to this behavior. Vocalization between the two had devolved into energetic whoops and screams, at one point the machine had been brought onto it's rear wheel for a duration before slamming back down into a skidding halt. Conversation lead into Vil's inquiry into Carl's riding prowess was answered with a short reply about a Campaign on a backwater mining planet in the mechanized scout cavalry. A bit of shock came over her voice as she declined to respond "I'll tell you later." a challenge was met with a response. "I'll hold you to it." The cyborg was momentarily surprised but then laughed, a shaking diaphragm caused the right amounts of movement in key fatty tissues for your host. Eyes locked to pinprick blue sensors in an unspoken question. The intent was confusing, a bit unsure, unconfident, reckless, but you had a suspicion.

The bike's engine revved at a mild whine with the careful, slower paced driving through the increasingly crowded inner streets of the city. Computer aided navigation from downloaded geographic data made the trip go smoothly, and soon you were all back at your new abode. The wrist computer unlocked the electromagnet holding the entry door shut via an encrypted NFC with a swipe of Carl's hand. The two inebriated organics composed themselves with only minor stumbles as they made their way towards the second floor ladder, Carl acting every part the gentleman and allowing "Ladies first" outmoded and unaccousted chivalry that was another layer of amusement for Vil, acknowledged to be thinly veiled lechery. The dark dress and lack of light was enough to block any appreciable view outside of dimensional data. There was an artistic value to certain angles or curvatures that you could appreciate from your perspective. The clash between organic and mechanical was unique. You had kept quiet, the tip of your tail flicking in anticipation and mischief at the potential of Vil discovering the mummified remains of the previous occupant. A biomorph is also capable of notions such as fun and amusement after all...
---
Roll 1d100 to see if Vil notices the very obvious Corpse.
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>3182168
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>>3182173
>mfw that 18. Its a happy GM who gets to write trolly scenes. Will my joy be defeated?
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>>3182180
i have not rolled between 20-90 this quests i Think
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Rolled 78 (1d100)

>>3182168
>>
>>3182180
>>3182199
Is that high enough?
>>
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>>3182202
i have a lot of work to catch up on, so im gonna let those rolls keep coming in. the 78 is "high enough" but there are a few thresholds I have rolling around in my head that range from immediate disaster, delayed disaster, nearly avoided, awkward, on up to flawless. So far that 78 puts you somewhere in the "pulled it off but might have screwed up a little" territory. This one is a pretty high DC folks.
>>
Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>3182205
Witness me
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>>3182168
So how is this going to play out nsfw warning the spoilers or paste bin
Or geneticmaterial injector blocking by our mummy
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3182168
>>
Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>3182168
pls no 1
>>
>>3182199
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3OediCUTnU
>78:
Laughing and groping at each other, the two stumbled onto the bed in a tangle of flesh and cybernetics. It was with a heavy heart that Carl and Vil were too enamored and intoxicated to either notice or care about the mummified cadaver that they now shared a room with. Exterior decorative garments were discarded quickly in preparation for social copulation activities. Carl enjoyed the show if the rapid shift in blood pressure was an appropriate indication. The blue light from Vil's sensors narrowed to paper thin slits as your host returned the favor. "You do not appear to be in your 60s, new friend..." Carl started to piece together thoughts and compliments "I've never, uh, wow." The move was predatory and executed with technique as Vil pushed Carl over onto the bed and straddled him. "Do not waste time complimenting me too much. I am a tin head type, built for this, upgraded for security..but it was cute of you to try." Her voice started off with that touch of sadness again before shifting back to playful challenge. Trying to sit back up, Carl is pushed down without too much coaxing "Hey...I meant it." despite lacking a mouth, a single mechanical finger across the creased edge of Vil's head conveyed the message to be quiet adequately.

For the next several hours Vil and Carl attempted to cause neurological damage for you via excess jostling. Purpose engineered function clashed against biomass honed superiority. You appreciated the juxtaposition and vague poetry of it, the massive flood of endorphins was also probably a good source of entertainment as you sat back and tapped into the feedback from Carl's nerves. Probably that last one. Eventually Vil and Carl wore each other out enough to submit to a need for rest.
---
As Carl's consciousness came to he was aware of your lack of appreciation to the wear and incurred cost of biomass, however minor it was, that he put on his own flesh. Instead of a simple retort of ideas and empathetic gesture, he outright complained at you. "Yeah and I recall someone else who wasn't me that took control for a moment before running scared back to daddy's belly like a little worm." Biting commentary from Carl. "A bit vulgar, perhaps mildly ungrateful, yet fair. Enjoy yourself Carl? Do you like hurting my feelings?" He grinned from the bed, Vil was still draped across him under the grey sheet. "Yeah, I think I enjoyed myself. Thanks for that, bug. Figure out a name for yourself yet?" it still wasn't an overly pressing matter, you looked through carl's eyes at the upside down scenery from the large plexigass window. "Not yet."

The flashing text on the screen of the small laptop near the bed, as well as the corpse, and Vil all created a suddenly awkward situation, Carl's link to your own thoughts meant it took him only a moment to process and follow along. "Fuck. We need to take care of this before Vil wakes up. Right?"

1/2
>>
>>3182273
"Questions Carl. Always questions, even with our bond, so deep as it is." The more things change, the more they go back to the way they were before they were modified. Yes. That is pretty concise, perhaps there is room for abbreviation. Development of philosophy may be on the potential list for further life experiences. Your host grunts with all the internal monologue you crank out, daring to call it diatribe. "Carl. Stay quiet, I've got some ideas. Lets discuss..." You take control of his body and glance at a small pinhole embedded in the ceiling that you notied earlier. Focusing on it, and yep. That's electronic. Sensor or Camera. You glance over at the screen "respond or the alarm on this computer goes off. >:( " You raise your finger at the camera in a gesture for 1 minute. "Fine." the text flashes back at you.

2/2
----
>Play dumb. Surely nothing will go wrong, building an escalating pile of lies has never backfired for anyone. (hard DC)

>Honesty is the best policy. Just tell Vil she had an impromptu threesome in the room of a woman who's desiccated corpse is still here, and digitized conscious mind has likely observed the entire process. Likely she will understand. (no DC, just fallout.)

>Try not to wake Vil, hide the Corpse, take the laptop downstairs. this will go well. (very high DC)

>Try not to wake Vil, hide the Corpse, use the laptop here. Hijinks ensue (Mid DC)

>Try not to wake Vil, eat the corpse to get rid of it, gain some biomass/ loot, and just use the laptop up here. not fucked up at all. (low DC)

Pick 1 and roll a 1d100. I'm getting some sleep and will be back later. I'll go by number of votes or high roll or something. its fucking late.
>>
>>3182285

>Honesty is the best policy. Just tell Vil she had an impromptu threesome in the room of a woman who's desiccated corpse is still here, and digitized conscious mind has likely observed the entire process. Likely she will understand. (no DC, just fallout.)
Biomorph here saying you where both drunk enough to forget and not notice a corpse sitting in the same room
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)

>>3182316
>>
Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>3182285
Ask the laptop if it's ok if we consume the his biological hull or if we should store it somewhere else. Then act accordingly, before figuring out what it wants.
>Try not to wake Vil, hide the Corpse, use the laptop here. Hijinks ensue (Mid DC)

>Try not to wake Vil, eat the corpse to get rid of it, gain some biomass/ loot, and just use the laptop up here. not fucked up at all. (low DC
>>
>>3182285
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3182285


>Try not to wake Vil, hide the Corpse, use the laptop here. Hijinks ensue (Mid DC)

Here we go, fixed
>>
Rolled 18 (1d100)

Or we could get out of carl and invade Vil. Just a thought. We could also pump her full of biomass and stem cells, rip and tear her mechanical carcass and turn it into a cut princess.

Oh well for a later date.

>Try not to wake Vil, eat the corpse to get rid of it, gain some biomass/ loot, and just use the laptop up here. not fucked up at all. (low DC)
>>
Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>3182336
Soup-port
>>
>>3182316
>>3182285
Supporting this. Point out that the body isn't dead, just unoccupied, the owner of it is still here so it's cool.

We are a RESPONSIBLE biomorph who respects personal property now, not one who goes out and damages their roommates cohabitation body with toxins and traumatic genetic exchange.

It's awfully rude of them to criticize the nice lady who's letting us stay here, especially when we've held back our HUNGER in the name of being a good symbiote and hovel squatter.
>>
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>>3182593
Technically right but I'm still supporting hiding the body.
>>
>>3182593
support
>>
>>3182593
Supporting this
>>
>>3183101
In my experience, pretending that this is all totally normal usually helps in this sort of situation, so let's do that.
>>
>>3183103
>>3183101
Oh, and also, wasn't it technicallly a foursome? I mean, we're an individual, we definitely participated...
>>
>>3183117
you mean technically a threesome?
>>
>>3183131
1. Vil
2. Carl
3. Us
4. Corpse Lady
>>
>>3183138
But she was only observing.
>>
>>3182318
>87:This was a better than expected roll for no DC
In the precious moment you bought yourself with an increasingly impatient digital consciousness you weigh the options. Most of them involve eating the corpse, hiding the corpse and dealing with an increasingly tangled web of complex self generated problems. This situation might look bad, but none of it is really your fault. On top of that Vil is presently unarmed and likely in a low threat state. The conclusion comes naturally. Let the situation evolve organically.

Stretching carefully, but without too much concern, you manage to slip the slubmering Vil off your host's chest and bicep. A temporary impression in the skin from her cranial case momentarily brands the moment for the time being. Creeping over to the computer you start typing, its claking keys cause a synthesized murmur to escape from the bed behind you.

>"You've been exceedingly patient."
"I didn't have too much choice on that, at least there was a show."
>"Would saying "you're welcome" be correct?"
"Close enough, get me out of here and that will be enough courtesy. You aren't from around here, and aren't machine origin. Most of the synths have a hard time using contractions. Doesn't come naturally. Even meat made data like me, we betray our origin like that. What are you?"
>"The body is called Carl, I'm apparently a Biomorph."
"...."
"...."
"fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu"
>"ck. yes. that happened. Still want my help, mind in a box?"
"I need OUT. Yes. Just take the computer to a void slum terminal and interface it, I can join the rest of the community as long as there is enough power on the grid. If we experience a disconnect during transfer though, I'm fucked."
>"There is an issue then. Rolling brownouts caused by an unfourtionate problem with a few external substations, or so I've been told."
" :(((((( "
>"Our companion will be awake soon, whats a few more moments?"
"decades alone, only stimulation was vid feeds where the only thing that changed was watching my body die after the transfer fucked up, and then getting to spend about 20 years appreciating it rot. I have nothing left other than the data slum, its the last option while I waited for that battery to fail. I want out! Look, just take the plug from my body over there, and stick it in the chick on the bed. It won't hurt her, I promise!"
>"That seems suspect. Elaborate?"

the trapped mind makes good on her threat, and activates the alarm on the computer. It's a very quiet chime that is somewhat laughable. You raise your eyebrows and grin slightly. The rage is palpable as a fantastic collection of profanity laced threats splashes across the screen.
---
pick one and roll 1d100

>Wake up Vil
>Take the cable and J-j-j-JAM IT IN.
>Ask the computer lady questions. (write in)
>Other (Write in)
>>
Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>3183713
>Other (Write in)
Can we stick you in the armored suit we brought? It's currently charging. With enough modifying downstairs you could probably use it as a temp body until you get a better one.
>>
>>3183713
>Chaotic_bass_cord.mp3
>>
>>3183713
>Ask the computer lady questions. (write in)
What are you going to do once you join the community after being alone for 20 years?
>>
I'm enjoying us being the chaotic jackass that takes fun in poking people and pissing people off while Carl is the 'good boy.'
>>
>79. Good success!

Carls fingers fly across the dust covered keys of the computer, he quickly types out a suggestion formulated by an off the cuff recollection of Power Armor AI's.
>"I have a Epsilon VII Powered Exo suit here. Its got a near full charge and it's entirely functional. Its crude but it Will work until we can get you to a terminal. Fair? You do NOT get to hide out in Vil though. That is NOT happening."

The quiet, bell like alarm instantly ceases chiming, the three dots of the incoming message notification pulses at the bottom corner of the screen for several moments. Carl looks over his shoulder at the appreciably shaped silhouette of Vil, draped across the bed and breathing softly. Finally, the incoming message chime alerts Carl to the Virtual consciousness response.
"A series seven Epsilon? Ugh..... Might as Well Jack me back into my body at that point. But its better than nothing I suppose even if its barely better... Fine... First you have to...."

You wriggle within carls guts, appreciating the irony of how the imprisoned consciousness will have to inhabit the hardsuit the same way you inhabit Carl. Sure, you can directly overthrow Carl's mind and pilot his body far more effectively than he can but the Mind will have to simply be along for the ride unless it can somehow figure out how to work the armor. You idly observe as Carl follows a slim cable from the side of the computer, the dust covered cable undulating slowly in his grip as he crouch-walks over to the dessicated corpse, mild distaste coloring his thoughts for a moment as he locks his fingers around a metallic node grafted to the side of the skull, patches of leathery skin concealing yellowed bone. You squirm in distaste as you briefly, VERY briefly, consider consuming the body. It is beyond rotten, beyond dried, the almost nonexistent humidity of the void slums having mummified it to the consistency of something similar to... Wood, you decide after searching both your own and Carl's memories. Carl seems to feel your snobbish attitude towards the fare as he removes the neural jack from the base of the corpses skull.

"Whats the matter wormy? Not hungry? Figured you'd have had me chewing that corpse like MRE jerky by now"
He whisper chuckles, passing along a memory of soured, overly salty, leathery meat products eaten by the bag while in trenches and dropships. You really lack the sensation or memory of taste but the impressions that come along are... Foul to say the least.
>"Keep it up Caaaaarl and you'll taste every bite."

Carl shudders mentally and physically, biting his cheek as he gently removes the socket from the corpses skull, crouch-walking over to the near fully charged exo-suit. With only a brief bit of checking directions from the Imprisoned Mind, Carl manages to successfully connect the cables to the requisite ports on the armor. Carl however notices a pair of options pop up along the display screen on the armors wrist.

>Cont
>>
>>3183928
>cont

>New program download pending....
>New program downloaded.
>Authorization pending.... >Authorization granted.
>New Program contains unknown functions.
>Autonomous movement granted with new program functionalities. >Checking AI/VI oversight compatibility...
>Compatibility established.

>Upload as Powered Exo-Suit onboard assistance?
Or
>Upload as Autonomous control program?
>>
>>3183929
>Upload as Autonomous control program?
>>
>>3183931
supported.
>>
>>3183929
Fucking sweet. Can she make a duplicate of herself? Having a fighting meat shield with us would be cool.
>>
>>3183931
Support
>>
>Upload as Autonomous control program.

Carl quickly selects the second option, the screens of the computer and armors wrist display flickering as code scrolls across them. The armor hums and pops, sparks flickering from various motors and actuators that weren't fully operational before but as power is rerouted through secondary and tertiary systems, the armor slowly resurrects itself as the Imprisoned Mind within the computer is siphoned into the armors internal data-cells. Carl steps back, crossing his arms across his chest as the armor jerks and twitches slightly, the download bar on it's wrist flashing as it grows ever closer to complete, the Mind testing the limits of its new habitation.

You come dangerously close to your approximation of a laugh, honestly a wet gurgle that makes Carl pat his stomach.
>"Caaaaaaaarrllll."
He sighs, biting his tongue between two reinforced and mildly sharpened teeth.
"Yes wormy?"
>Look at you. How...magnanimous of You. Helping the poor little dead girl out of the kindness of your heart? Whats gotten into you?"
Carl smirks to himself, running a hand through his recently thickened hair and shrugs.
"You'd think youd have some sympathy for someone stuck somewhere with no hope of escape and no-one to see."
>Sympathy? Me? Carl you silly boy... You are the only thing I sympathize with and thats only because I am *literally* in your brain right now.... Oh look, its getting up..."

Carl takes another step back as the armor slowly jerks and clanks, actuators and hydraulics working alongside polymer bundles of crude synthetic muscle, arms assisting the ungainly and awkward mass to stretch to its full height. The head, really the "helm" of the armor, turns side to side slowly, the optics taking on a dull greenish glow as power is cycled to them, the focusing lenses shifting as it settles on you. A harsh crackle issues from the com-set inbuilt into the armor as it fires up.
"Well... This is.... New. Wow... I can move again! Holy shit I can move! I can see! Not just the same fucking angle of my fucking corpse! You dont know how tired i got of seeing my own rotting corpse."

"Wha-what the fuck? Who the hell is this Carl?"
Vil's synthetic voice, modulated to "pleasantly female" but synthetic all the same cuts through the air as she bolts upright in bed, holding the blanket to cover her torso and pelvis as she smacks the side of a synthetic thigh, a hidden compartment revealing a kinetic pulse pistol that she draws with lightning speed.
"I dont know who you are but you can get the FUCK out of that armor and out of this damn shed before I splatter you all over the inside of it"
She snarls, her voice echoing slightly with bass tones as the pistol hums menacingly.

You gurgle out your laughter in Carl's guts and poke his spleen with your tail.
>"that's our cue Caaaaaaarl."

>Explain as the Biomorph

>Explain as Carl

>Allow the Mind to explain herself.

>Fucking hackers amirite?

>Other
>>
>>3184041
>>Explain as the Biomorph
Carl's had his fun time, now it's our turn to have a laugh
>>
>>3184041
>>Explain as the Biomorph
Time for our usual blunt uncaring and clinical explanation.
>>
>>3184041
>Explain as the Biomorph
This is the mind of someone who has been trapped within a terminal for approximately 20 years. They are the previous owner of this building and shop, but Carl here felt sympathy for it.
>>
Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>3184041
>Explain as the Biomorph
>>
>>3184065
support.

Also

Other>"So, what the hell is your name?"
>>
Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>3184041
>>3184050
Rolling for more than 5
>>
Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>3184041
>>
Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>3184041
>>
>>3183117
We're also technically a child.
>>
>>3183928
> not curious about the effect of exotic energy from the void on the cellular structure.

Mass is mass, are we picking up picky eating habits from Carl?
>>
>>3184176
Explain?
>>
Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>3184041
>>
>>3184204
I missed the word Slums and thought it was exposed to space, never mind.

But still, think of the wealth of material from irradiated bacteria and such in a body exposed to strange elements.
>>
>>3184041
> >Other

Tell her that we were intrigued by their breeding, so we copied a version of her to the armor. She's now a mommy! Honestly we aren't sure what people get out of this, but her and Carl were trying so hard that we figured it was worth a shot.
>>
So is the ex-sort of store owner going to upgrade and do some maintenance on the environmental suit? What do we do with the old body and the implants? Do we have enough money to buy a gun?
>>
Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>3184041

Explain as biomorph

>Remove helmet
>its empty
>¿¿¿???
>Profit

Also, the ai traveled to the armor right? It didnt copied itself ala SOMA right? Also nice hip smack from Val's, very efficient.
>>
>>3184275
>Remove helmet
>its empty
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
>>
>>3184041
>Explain as the Biomorph
>>
Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>3184351
>>
>>3184351
>93: Rational inhuman explanations. Rational inhuman responses.

The situation causes a spike in stress hormones and Carl's shocked mind makes it easy to shove him back in the passenger seat for the time being and hopefully allow cooler heads to prevail. The Scene playing out looks rather implausible as a naked cyborg holds an empty, yet alarmed looking space suit at gunpoint. You want not for entertainment. "...a new friend Vil, the suit is hollow, but the electronics are full." With that you gesture over to the mummified corpse, obvious jatajack's easily visible on it's skull. Its a short trip to follow the nearby laptop with trailing cables still connected to the space suit. Gentle relaxation in her neck and shoulders does not meet the mechanical limb holding the gun, after a second longer of hesitation the firearm gracefully returns to it's leg holster in an eerie exact reverse of the movement that drew it, as if Vil was being rewound. A series of flicker blue lasers emit from her head as she scans and maps the room. Carl recognizes the technology as something enforcement would use for "crime scenes", beyond that he doesn't know much more. You detect strong electromagnetic radiation flooding into the room, something within the corpse "pings" weakly, then ceases."

Vil voice sounds even more modulated than before as she rattles off information "Biologically deceased female, edited registry, id unknown, no historical data. Unauthorized occupant of local storefront...who are you?" the bulky suit of environmental armor places it's gauntlets on it's hips and emits a voice that goes from flat to oddly high pitched, soon sounding like a human female of early adulthood or late adolescence. "I'm Nitz, you aren't gonna find shit on me because I was ace at covering my trail. Bred, born, raised, died, and resurrected in the void slums! Carl, or biomorph...whatever you are. Thanks for the legs even if you made me watch the show between you and the Tinhead. I've got some reclamation to do, but you can crash here for a while." You and Vil watch the suit try to take the ladder down to the lower level before falling one story. "Shes likely fine." The cyborg pauses at your speech "Carl? No. Biomorph." Your grin widens "Very good! But he IS listening, we swap out as operator of this flesh as needed, or wanted. I was worried you would be full of questions like Carl is! How refreshing." She focused on you, tracking slowly as you made your way back to the bed to lounge, which in itself was a novelty. "I do have questions though, but do not mistake form for origin, here in the slums. Despite the notions of the Chief, which I agree with limitedly, we also are what we are, it should not be ignored. I like engagement, to feel refreshed, Biomorph. Wormy."

You slither in the mildest of irritation at that name, it somehow makes it to Carl's face, and with it the disembodied laughing of carl rings in your consciousness. The Cyborg raises a point...

1/2
>>
>>3185941
>93: this is a high roll result? Well, you did pick that one choice.

"We are what we are..is that why you do..not..use.. contractions?" its been something you've noticed in many synthetic's speech. "Yes. that is usually a tell for most of us, even if we look human or otherwise, and also a give away for a human like Nitz." as Vil answered your question you noticed she got closer. "We are what we are, do not make assumptions to my own earned ideology. I am built upon my foundation which colors who I am, but I have expanded beyond it. Will I always be that which I was? Yes. That and more. Memories are experiences that make the individual, Wormy. Allow us to grow." Her blue sensors momentarily tint towards purple, and slowly into red as she struggles with something before tackling you. Not a threat, but not your problem. Attempts to retreat back into your mind are blocked by Carl's growing mastery of the empathetic link between you two. "We'll...make....memories" Vil's distorted voice cracks on the contraction, but she manages to force the word out, along with truly gleeful laughter at her minor triumph.
---
When you came to Vil was nowhere to be found and Nitz was hunched over her own corpse, gutting it, carefully pulling out a string of silvery wire and thread thin glass. Your movement momentarily attracts her attention, but only enough to address you without looking. "You're all grown up now, Wormy!" A slight pull from the astronaut looking suit's arm causes a cluster of metal implants to rip out of the abdomen of nitz's former body. "Might need these 'yaknow?" It would seem your new roommate has been busy modifying the suit, or at least pulling off ceramic panels and exploring its functions.
---
>Shower.
>Shower until emotionally clean.
>Talk to Nitz, figure out whats going on, and see where Vil went.
>Go look over the electronic tomes downstairs.
>"About that meat...I mean corpse..." you are peckish.
> Write in.
>>
>>3185957
Sorry OP, could you give me a summary of what just happened? I am very confused.
>>
>>3185957
>"About that meat...I mean corpse..." you are peckish.
It would be a waste to incinerate it.
>>
>>3185976
Support tell her she can probably clone her body
>>
>>3185957
>"About that meat...I mean corpse..." you are peckish.
>>
>>3185970
big tl/dr: Players chose to simply explain the situation the best they could in the face of the characters being what they all are instead of taking any actions. The Computer with what was a potential AI on it from earlier in your new "apartment" turned out to be the digitized mind a dead woman, stuck in said computer. next to her own corpse.

Instead of helping, the players told the computer they would be back later, went out and partied, committed high speed moving violations with a motorcycle, picked up a cyborg companion for the night, all while having not moved that corpse which was in the same area. classy.

Having sucessfully not noticed the body our cyborg bed warmer was asleep when we finally decided to help dead computer woman who was downloaded into a suit of near antique environmental worker armor, or simply put a hardsuit for working in space. Vil, who is the Cyborg awoke at the noisy activation of that event, and was concerned. Things were ok. Carl trolled the biomorph, cyborg commented on the nature of being sentient, then probably caused undo exertion on Carl's body resulting in passing out.

When you came to enough time had passed that your paramour is gone, and your new roommate, the dead woman, now named Nitz, has decided that since the place you are living in was hers to begin with, she is likely going to keep staying there.

You dont know much about Nitz, and that takes us to the current action list.
>>
>>3186230
Pretty straightforward really.

Honestly pretty happy with how Vil took it. Maybe us being okay with our inhuman side made her willing to share hers with us?

Also did she fuck Carl a second time or what? There's alluding to something and there's not clarifying if she knocked us the fuck out the second time
>>
>>3186232
That's it. Looks like Vil popped little Biomorph's cherry while Carl made sure Biomorph was in charge and experiencing every minute of it.
>>
>Sorry about the last result, not my best work, back to the show.
>>3185976
>>3185980
>>3186133
---

As you cleaned, and got dressed. Your newfound roommate continues to work over the body until its a pile of dismembered jerky and bone. While not the greatest source of biomass, you ask about it. "Yeah, please actually, I have enough samples that I can try and get some new skin cloned up later. Looking at it just brings back bad memories. I never really intended for things to work out the way they did, but hey; happy accidents right?"

"This is going to be disgusting. We can find something else. come on!" Carl's mounting apprehension at what you are about to do only adds the spice of emotional anguish to the moment. "Ah, but you were so eager to share a new experience with me, now I must with you, Carl." you quip. The next few moments of his existence are ones of revulsion, and a desperate desire to be in control of his body, if only to simply throw up. Leathery meat and somehow stale bone are crushed between augmented jaws, snapping like old dryrotted wood, with hints of dust.

>Gained 50 biomass
>Lost Hardsuit.

Nitz stares at you via the suit's helmet cameras. "I'm really more impressed than appalled. That was a bigger spectacle than, well, earlier. Both times actually! Speaking of which Vil is pretty ok once she stops trying to kill you or determine a threat assessment. She said she'd ping us later." You nod slightly, the biomass slowly working its way through your body as it rehydrates, serving to fuel metabolic processes. You flick a small chunk of bone from your teeth. "Are you trying to make conversation, Nitz?" the hardsuit's speakers crackle slightly, maybe a sign of hesitation. "Yeah. Its been boring being isolated for that long, you also dont have your whole mind like that. Still dont. Need better hardware, but its one of those things. they say you dont know you are crazy if you are, so if you know you are a little off because you can rationalize it, you can hold onto that, maintain yourself. Right?" Clearly the intelligence inhabiting your old hardsuit has had time to think, and become slightly stir crazy.
----
>See if Nitz wants to go over the electronic repair manuals downstairs with you.
>Go examine them yourself.
>Try to see if you can patch into the station's newsfeed from the terminal outside.
>Talk to Nitz about herself.

roll 1d100 and make a choice. lets see how badly this goes.
>>
>>3186232
yes to the inhuamn side of the biomorph bringing it out, and yes to the second one.
>>3186246
Exactly correct. I wont go out of my way to write fap fuel, but the casual sadism without any real malicious intent sums up some of the elements that create the carl/ biomorph dynamic.
>>
>>3186257
Wait when I picked the option I thought we were going to eat the body
>>
>>3186254
>Talk to Nitz about herself.
Crazy or not talking never hurt, though she could schedule a therapist appointment later if she thought that would help.

>>3186275
Oh never mind we did eat it.
>>
>>3186275
You did. see:
>>3186254
>"The next few moments of his existence are ones of revulsion, and a desperate desire to be in control of his body, if only to simply throw up. Leathery meat and somehow stale bone are crushed between augmented jaws, snapping like old dryrotted wood, with hints of dust."
>>
>>3186254
>See if Nitz wants to go over the electronic repair manuals downstairs with you
Maybe ask her if we can help her out somehow, but for now some studying. Maybe one of the next upgrades can go into senses, getting us wireless connectability or direct flesh machine interfacing.
>>
>>3186290
>1d100
>>
Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>3186290
>>3186292
>>
>>3186254
>>Talk to Nitz about herself
As something so completely organic we should probably find what drives someone to go the other way ... and if we can't eat someone we might as well talk to them.
>Shared perusal of repair manuals once we've had our D&M

>>3186275
We did m8
>>
Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>3186292
FUCK. Forgot the dice.

>>3186298
I know I know.
Maybe we can talk about Nitz as we work over the suit that she has unfortunately butchered. Eh, we can always find a new one or something.
>>
>>3186328
Therapist Time
>>
>>3186328
>97: Wew. We avoided our first robo suicide.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4B0vUIQXBY
The bulky suit clatters as loose pannels with loops of draping wires, hoses, and other components hang from it. Nitz seems very preoccupied shoving things here and there with no rhyme or reason. As you examine it further, you realize, there is no reason to it. She is literally just taking apart the suit, the stability displayed in conversation is just a veneer. Carl notices it too, flashing images and thoughts of times in his past where soldiers feigned normal functionality for years, eventually reaching a point where they were comfortable with self termination.

"Nitz, if you keep picking at that, it will get worse." Having Carl's memories on tap is useful for utilizing colloquialisms and adages has been useful. She laughs through the suit's speakers, tinny and full of static. "Wormy. It doesn't get worse than this. I am not even sure what I feel, because the biological drive behind it is gone. There is some kind of emotional emulation, but its more of a suggestion." she recklessly pulls a stray wire causing sparks to shoot out for a moment from the suit's neck before it stumbles over. Carl takes control and pulls the suit up into a sitting position. "Yeah, the worm doesn't get it, but I do. Pick your tits up and lets get you into the shop. Seems bad as it does because you are probably choking on Hardware older than I am." the intelligence tries to protest by slapping away Carl but so much disassembly has been done to the suit that the movement was slow and feeble "Ok. doubt I could say no huh?" Carl looked down at the flickering display across the helmet's visor and frowned. "Nope. Come on, we can talk about things while I figure out what the hell I'm doing."

Hauling the empty hardsuit wasn't too difficult with your enhanced strength, and after clearing off one of the counters in the cluttered repair shop downstairs you had what would serve as an adequate operating table. The conversation with Nitz is not too bad. She lets it slip that Nitz is her last name, and won't give a first, you will have to pass that along to Vil, it might aid in a proper ID. Apparently the worst part of her existence on the computer was the loss of self, and not being able to close her eyes or sleep, and now the suit is clipping away at her mind. It needs more processing power to allow for a proper emulation of her mind; but you have no idea what you are doing.

The talking and display of compassion from Carl has convinced her to try life again, even if its not her old one. After hooking up your wrist computer and getting a little guidance from Nitz you manage to reconnect the most obvious cables and components to their nearby sockets without causing any further damage. A catastrophic failure has been reversed, but significant repairs and upgrades remain.

1/2
>>
>>3186546
The hardsuit laid in front of you, physically empty. Tapping on the chest of it made a hollow noise. "Stop that." nitz grumbled. "Tell me about yourself Nitz. I am what I am, but what drove you to become what you are, its curious." there is a long pause, while you wait for her to compile her thoughts, eyes dart around the shop taking in trinkets and leftovers; a glowing VFD display, some sort of high end audio equipment from decades ago, and..your examination gets cut off by her arbupt decision to speak "Its stupid, but, Well; since I was a kid I liked to visit the Data slum, you could talk to people from other parts of the Void Slum, but also people who only existed in the Data Slum. It was cool. Really cool. We played together, a few friends and I, and as I got older, I started experimenting around, got some cybernetics, and well, yeah. Tried to get the full experience, meet my friends for real. It wasn't supposed to be permanent, but something went wrong with my computer's wireless, and I got stuck, I thought someone would find me, but it never happened. I...I just..fuck." Carl lets you slide forward into the conversation. "What you aren't saying is louder than what you are....so say it." There is a burst of static from the suit again. Its barely a whisper when words finally come out. "I..i dont think it was accidental. or a mistake...but only my friends.." you muse for a moment "Relationships. If only all were so pure as ours Carl." he flickers something between mockery and genuine acknowledgement at you. Leaning over the suit's helmet, you look directly into a camera. "It's worth figuring out, for now though, sleep." your hand reaches inside the helmet and holds a switch for several seconds that pushes the hardsuit into standby mode. "No wait! I can help!"


2/2
Pick 1 from each set, no dice needed.

>Put nitz into standby mode
>Let nitz help talk you through repairs

and

>Let Carl stabilize the suit with simple, temporary repairs that he is competent enough to do.
>Go grab the computer from upstairs, it might be useful.

and

>Where are those cybernetics Nix harvested?
>Go read up from the manuals.
>>
>>3186664
>Let nitz help talk you through repairs
We need all the help we can get, but we may need to turn her off for some steps
>Go grab the computer from upstairs, it might be useful.
We need to upgrade her processing power, to avoid robot suicide and there is plenty of room in the suit. We are also very smart boy so: no Problem.
>Go read up from the manuals
Smartest boy is fastest reader, so might as well get some tech skill before building a bot. Grab the cybernetics ic we need them.
>>
>>3186704
support
>>
>>3186664
>and now the suit is clipping away at her mind. It needs more processing power to allow for a proper emulation of her mind
worrisome

>"It's worth figuring out, for now though, sleep." your hand reaches inside the helmet and holds a switch for several seconds that pushes the hardsuit into standby mode. "No wait! I can help!"
Not sure if sleep works the same way for machines. In this game called Soma when a sentient machine "sleeps" it's more akin to jumps in time? Like skipping time but you do nothing while your consciousness is on ice? Fuck, I don't know how to explain it.

>Let nitz help talk you through repairs
this last

>Go grab the computer from upstairs, it might be useful.

>Where are those cybernetics Nix harvested?
>Go read up from the manuals.
why not both?
>>
>>3186664
Can we patch into the station's internet, or at least what's available in this Void Slum? If Nitz got any bitcoins left she might be able to afford a better body.
Also there might be someone out there who might be interested in purchasing antiques?
>>
>>3187430
>In this game called Soma when a sentient machine "sleeps" it's more akin to jumps in time?

Sleep is literally that
>>
>>3186664
>>Let nitz help talk you through repairs
>>Go grab the computer from upstairs, it might be useful.
>>Go read up from the manuals.
>>
File: 1417964385.png (606 KB, 544x454)
606 KB
606 KB PNG
>>3188020
>Overwhelming concensus: Nitz help- Computer-Manuals
---
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwkpLfayW1k Deus Ex: Revision OST - Track 6 "The Enemy Within”
"Calm down former flesh. I must review your tome first." A protest starts to form as the speaker cracks to life but dies as you hold the sleep button which puts the suit into standby. For a moment, its just you and Carl in the dusty old shop. The hum of power transformers and periodic click of a solenoid make up part of the quiet background noise here. You relax and close your eyes, stray electromagnetic signals here and there, but its all nonsense to you, likely the small voices of the innumerable devices scattered around the various counters, living out their little mechanical lives.

Carl remains confused for a moment at your lack of action. "Its quiet." the realization hits him as he understands; peace. It has been non stop activity since you two met, and since before that actually. You take in a slow deep breath, and relax your shoulders. Carl's shoulders, the reminder is so faint you are unsure if it was your host or just a mental reminder. Looking over at the wall of books, you feel a tingle of interest as fingers run over the spines of the informational tomes. Paper. You have never touched paper before, neither has carl actually. Not real paper. Cracking the book open you smell anti fungal preservative chemicals that have slightly yellowed the pages. You close it and put it back. Some of the pages are smooth and glossy, others are rough and so thin they are almost transparent. Each book has a character, almost a story to tell beyond it's own content. Small repairs, or even printed replacement pages and addendums. Hand written notes in corners and margins, or near autistic spelling corrections. This collection is very old, and to you, beautiful in its own way through purity of function. Despite fragility, it will never die without power, and cannot be corrupted so easily. The newer books seem to be made of a plastic material, some of the sheets are transparent and illuminate with the press of a button. Carl informs you that they are old instructional technical manuals for students from before holograms were so prevalent...he draws your vision over to a small collection of rectangular bars. Old holo-bricks, generic makes, but a self contained power source, emitter, and data repository, popular with media pirates. The human ideas of information control are...interesting, to say the least. Well, time to start learning. You pull out a book at the start of the list, A reprint of a much older book in human history, Carl informs you they were popular at a point as a novelty for humans to own small libraries in their homes. Colorful pages and bold line along with numerous annotations of commentary on the simple subjects. The different handwriting styles, and dates that stretch slightly past two centuries.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uX0hU7jQ5O4


1/2
>>
>>3188175
2/2
Roll a 2d100 to see how much of the library you absorb, and how fast you read. Ill be back later to check the rolls.
>>
Rolled 36, 65 = 101 (2d100)

>>3188177
we got the brain juice
>>
Rolled 35, 16 = 51 (2d100)

>>3188177
books. psst, what anerd
>>
Rolled 86, 37 = 123 (2d100)

>>3188177
>>
Rolled 5, 55 = 60 (2d100)

>>3188177
>>
>>3188182
>>3188224
>86,65: A productive night.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uKxEoQQiSQ
---
You spend the night reading, at about one page every three to five seconds, sometimes a bit longer, sometimes much shorter. Your capacity to soak information is impressive, but not unexpected considering the evolutionary path you have taken.

The books were lovingly arranged in order of expertise and category, with the early levels falling victim to a voracious hunger that clearly gives away your heritage as a biomorph. The basic principals of electromotive force, materials science, and branching fields of mechatronics leads you down a path into robotics fundamentals, electrical engineering and electrical repair. Carl follows along, picking up as you do, shocked and amazed at the ability to simply review and learn so easily. Human life can be a struggle picking up the skills they need. Granted all you know are the fundamentals and theoreticals, nothing has been put into practice. It had been a long while since Nitz was put into standby, and you had finally reviewed the intro to programming and micro soldering manuals. There was still a tremendous amount of material left, and you barely put a dent into it.

Carl's head was in physical pain from the effort of concentration, causing a strong desire for alcoholic drink or resting of the eyes. Opening blood vessles to flood in oxygen, nutrients and stem cells allowed for muscles to relax and regenerate quickly, erasing Carl's hedache. "I wish I had you around back when I first tried for higher education." you got a real compliment, with no backhanded commentary "Carl, I knew we would grow to be friends, and not just because I am slowly replacing every cell in your body!"

The computer upstairs would be nessesary for the coming operation. Procured, examined, it now sat on the table next to the hardsuit shell, with both items in a state of functional disassembly. Reaching inside the suit's helmet, Carl depresses the button long enough for a single chirp to singnal the full functions of the suit, at least electronically. The speakers croak to life "Its been like 9 hours, did you bang another slut or something?"
---
Roll 1d100+30 to see how the repairs/ upgrades go.

30 is software help from Nyx. Write in with any additional ideas, if they are viable within the story and make sense it might happen.
>>
Rolled 70, 79, 26 + 30 = 205 (3d100 + 30)

>>3188272
I feel it
>>
>>3188306
Wew, that wasn't a 1d100. Oh well, if you take the first I still rolled an unnatural 100.
>>
Rolled 54 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>3188272
Oh well, maybe the wrist computer has a newer cpu that can replace something or mount it as a sub-processor. (if that is a thing). A small sacrifice
>>
Rolled 40 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>3188272
>>
Rolled 35 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>3188272
We have an electronic repair and computer store that's full of stuff that's 20 years out of data, some of Nitz's old implants that might be able to re-purposed into the suit, MAYBE a pistol or two she might have had for safe keeping.
I say we collect all the parts she had been stripping away in case we need them, pop open some of the stuff she had in inventory and start cramming the suit with as much processing power, sensors, memory and battery life as we possibly can so she can properly emulate emotions. We should also replace outdated electronic parts with the slightly less outdated parts and do some repairs to those motors that were sparking.
What with this being a store that specialized in electronic repair and computer work, there aught to be some terminator style robot skeleton we could squeeze into the suit, or fuck it is there a humanoid robot in the shop?
>>
>>3188306
>>3188326
>Artificial 100 for an artificial girl. Kismet. banked.
---
You look at your wrist computer and it beeps at you. No. You love it too much, and its not that good, more of a glorified disposable digital watch of the 20th century, something called a "Casio Data bank." But it has been loyal, useful, and does not have the ability digitally spy on you. However, all around you are devices and things of potential use...
---
>Raid the shop for parts.

Alright folks. Roll a 2d100 for raiding the shop for parts.
>>
Rolled 63, 21 = 84 (2d100)

>>3188401
Can we replace our tech glasses with a single lense with a different one if she has it?
>>
Rolled 5, 27 = 32 (2d100)

>>3188401
Ayy, doing it right this time.
>>
Rolled 17, 22 = 39 (2d100)

>>3188401
Loot. Now we talking
>>
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.....is anyone else gonna roll?
>>
Rolled 55, 69 = 124 (2d100)

>>3188401
>>
Rolled 17 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>3188272
>Write in with any additional ideas
Obviously we want to make the suit as resilient as possible with redundancy of the essential systems etc and ensure all the servos are running perfectly to max out our/Nyx' strength/speed in the suit.
But beyond that I think the most useful facilities for us are mobility and rad resistence
>Mobility through thrusters or magclamps is likely hard to impossible for us 'evolve' and would be extremely helpful in depressurised/decrepit sections of the station (or even outside)
>Rad resistance mainly because I'm thinking of those creepy corp fuckers we ran into ages ago. Would also be useful in spacewalks or decaying sections of the station though.
>>
Rolled 55, 49 = 104 (2d100)

>>3188452
>>3188401
Rolling to raid
>>
>>3188410
63, 69: Wasn't too bad, didn't say it was too great either.
---
"Hey, try not to ruin that!" the Shell manages to sit up midway through your repairs as you pry open the plastic shell of an old personal camera. "Fuck, come on! That was valuable!" It joins a mounting pile of trash. along the way you replaced the display module of your glasses with an older visor type model. Despite the loss of some functionality Carl assures you its "cool" looking. Aesthetically pleasing. humans and their words.

While there were useful parts, the shop did not have anything overwhelmingly military grade at it's disposal. The suit was mostly refurbished with relativly modern electronics, but kept a lot of the legacy hardware due its extreme level of robustness. Sometimes they really just "dont make em' like that anymore." The hollow space inside the suit was utilized to house the former laptop computer, now disassembled mass of loosely connected parts, as well as additional battery storage and wireless equipment. Your old glasses were donated to the cause along with a host of small cameras to improve Nitz's vision. The whole process only took a few hours due to the fact that she wanted to get "something like her old body", and probably because deep down you didn't want to loose the suit.
...
Some time later Nitz managed finish the fine details using you as her hands. The suit looks much the same as it did from the outside aside from some touch sensor appliques and other external details like ranging and detection modules; though they are nothing more than pinhole tech. Hopping off the impromptu repair table the hardsuit slaps your ass "I got it from here cowboy." You really have no idea what a cowboy is, and neither does Carl. "Chicks just weird." You notice the suit's helmet pivoted at you along the rotating neck collar. Nitz's voice comes through clearly, almost eerily realistic. "Oh man...that, thats nice. At least I have my own voice. Wonder what it's like for you two though, all that silent communication. Trust me, its pretty obvious." The Helmet's built in display lights flickers distorted artifacts before lighting up with a vector traced girl's face. "...annnnd...Ta-da! Look blue fairy, you made me a real girl! No strings!" The impromptu dance and obscure reference is enough to make Carl laugh, which is another odd human reflex and experience that you sample through his nervous system.

After chatting for a bit, the "girl" is still figuring out what she will do about the circumstances of her demise, but plans to include you in that plan. For now she sits the suit in a chair near where a front teller counter is, and runs a wire from the suit to a jack under the said desk. "Gonna catch up on the world, see what I missed. You do you!" with that the helmet's displays a winking face before flashing off.
---
>Fixed your glasses.
>Knowledge of mechatronics gained. Return to the library and Nitz to increase your capability.
>Fixed Nitz.

1/2
>>
>>3188635
---
How to pass your time?

>Clean up around the shop/ apartment
>Go find the noodle man. Your hunger is greater than your fear of him.
>Continue to assault the library.
>Check up on the latest news on the terminal outside.
>Other, write in.

Pick 1, roll a 1d100. high roll wins, and also determines whats going on.
>>
>>3188639
>>Continue to assault the library.
Since we've gone total brainy boi, KNOWLEDGE TIME.
>>
Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>3188639
>>3188644
Fuck, wait
>>
Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>3188639
>Check up on the latest news on the terminal outside.
>>
>>3188635
How long would it take us to make a trek back to the loot we stored away? I don't care much for the armor, but I do for the guns. Need more dakka.
>>
>>3188682
I'm going to give a bit longer for some rolls, I'm also busy for a sec.

The guns and other stuff are for all intents and purposes lost. You would gain more resources selling the cache location on the station intranet, and using the credits to buy something better. Each area we roll through has a slightly different flavor, and this one will see you outfitted with some equipment that might have been cutting edge 20-30 years ago, and lovingly maintained. I know its my fault as a GM, but you've barely gotten to explore the void slum, and soon you will.
>>
>>3188639
>Continue the book slaughter
Lets see if we can lean some things we can apply to our lives. Building a gadget or two, perhaps some chunky retro-future weaponry.
>>
Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>3188718
Fucking dumbass.
>>
>>3188723
....uh, did. did you just call yourself a dumbass? Speaking of retro weapon we'd be better off making some gear than a weapon. this is just a repair shop after all.

>>3188708
Does Carl or Vil know anyone who would buy the cache's location?
>>
Rolled 66 (1d100)

>>3188639
>Continue to assault the library
Smartest boy
>>
>>3188727
Absolutely I did. I forgot to roll, and if I don't call myself on it then who will?
>>
>>3188645
>74: READING.
The next full day is spent consuming the lore contained within all the delightful paper books. You learned by way of Nitz that real paper is made from dead trees, a plant. The idea that an organic being can be processed into a product delights you. Perhaps you will make notes on the flesh of your enemies someday? No. no...you conclude that would be wasteful. More and more esoteric material begins hitting you, causing you to slow down a bit more, high level math is really another language, once learned, easily spoken. Carl disagrees, but he is the meat suit, you are not, so you feel his opinion is lesser and rightfully so. He has little to say on this sentiment. The Library is still horrifyingly full, and you have resorted to putting small paper markers between the last book you read and the next you have not. Nitz looks over at you "Ya know Wormy, even I havn't read all of these. just not practical, useful, or really possible." You shrug "That's where we differ, little disembodied intelligence. We recognize a resource and situation, you are busy..sitting there." Carl appreciates the nod, even if it wasn't too genuine. The hardsuit points to you "Oh, I am working on something I am sure you will find of great interest, and absorbing so much data in my own way. Don't get too caught up on your supposed biological superiority there, Wormy. Last I checked you are afraid of a little bit of microwave energy." She challenges you. Perhaps like you and Carl interact, this may be an attempt of socialization in her own way. Not challenge for dominance, at least not entirely, and with it Carl agrees, you use limited compassion. "I'll brush that off as a cognitive limitation of the suit's hardware and not a defect in your own." yes. Merciful. Gentle reminder of places in life. Approximation of friendly, return sentiment. These are the moments Carl mentally sits quiet, slightly aghast at your interpretation of socialization.
>Your tech skills have improved with regards to older equipment.

>>3188655
>6: WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE TERMINAL?!!
Stepping outside to enjoy a change of pace, you attempt to utilize the terminal, which promptly explodes. The damage done to Carl was entirely superficial, and within moments his eyes and face are expelling all the glass lodged in them with only minimal discomfort, you are sure of that last part. Humans enjoy screaming. After that the inside of the shop was ransacked against Nitz's wishes to procure a replacement screen and other components for the terminal, thus testing your newly gained skills. Success! it works. Try again?
---
Its late in the day.
>Try the terminal again
>go exploring, see the sights.
>There is a smell on the air that is hard to resist.

pick 1, 1d100.
>>
Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>3188919
>>
>>3188968
Scavange for tech and scrap then read books
>>
Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>3188919
>There is a smell on the air that is hard to resist
Acquire biomass
>>
>>3188968
>:Lore be damned, I will find scrap.
You go for a walk around the neighborhood, with the intent of scrounging. The problem with this area is that due to resource efficiency its pretty much a non factor. That being said you not easily deterred, and begin talking to the locals. Most of them know who and what you are, but are friendly enough; if a bit wary. News spread that you rescued a girl from some sort of digital imprisonment, so that's nice enough. Carl seems to take the compliments well enough. You eventually learn that not much here is thrown away, and anything truly obsolete is put into storage as long as there is room, eventually it gets used one way or another.

An older man, now content to do very little chased after you as you went on to search for a depot in which to break into. Apparently they are pretty fortified, and you can usually requisition equipment if you put in the work for it, "not too much trouble at all, but here, I've still got some of my old Crap back at the house. You can have it, we could use people around here who actually stir things up. Too many of us are falling back to the Data Slum and look where that is! One random asshole and it goes to hell. No offense." His chrome skull and exposed metal spine contrast with weathered pale skin. The conversation is pleasant enough as he treats you to some coffee and a thing called a "Hoagie". Multilayered food designed to stimulate taste. This is a good thing. By the time you are done talking, you have made a new acquaintance who has gifted you with several armfuls of his "old junk". On your way back home you spot a terminal, flashing "Angel Station News!".
---
>New inventory!
>Industrial Utility Laser
A much more modern example of your previous cutting laser, weaker, more durable, versatile, safer. You frown at it; Yes. This will need work.
>Plasma sampling, development and test equipment
A collection of rather unwieldy boxes that must weigh as much as "Carl's momma". Max apparently found insults to female progenitors of great humor. Carl, not so much.
>Collection of dirty Magazines
"My pud dont work no more." Max had said. They feel heavier than they should be. worrisome.
---
>Gained new contact: "Max", may have work for you in the future.
---
>Check out the terminal
>Head home to fuck with your shit and read some books.
>Try to ping Vil and see whats going on.
>>
>>3189010
>Check out the terminal
>Try to ping Vil and see whats going on.
>Head home to fuck with your shit and read some books.

this order
>>
>>3189014
You check the terminal, its a multi use, so thats good; Local intranet, Angel Station full intranet at very reduced bandwidth, and com to com direct calls. Nice.

Heavy mechanical keys click away as you punch in your queries and are soon greeted with the options. The thick curved glass of the display is old but well made, and in full low-fi color. cozy.
--
>Check my insurance funds. Good luck getting me.
>Check the local news (Angel station)
>Check the local news (void slum)
>Check "Equipment Exchange: A virtual bartering system"

make a choice, roll dice+1d100

>Calling Vil after you get home and tinker is still in effect.
>>
Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>3189038
>>
>>3189040
>Check the local news (Angel station)
>>
>>3189038
>>Check the local news (void slum)
>>
>>3189059
>>
Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>3189038
>Check "Equipment Exchange: A virtual bartering system
Sell the location of our hidden gear and look for cool shit
>>
Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>3189059
>>3189038
Why has dice+1d100 forsaken me?
>>
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>>3188682
fucking gringos. First stealing Kimba and now you anon dare to mention this movie in my presence
>>
Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>3189038
>>Check the local news (Angel station)

Can't we shitpost or something? "I am still alive fuckos"
>>
>>3189283
I am interested. Please tell me more.
>>
Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>3189038
>Check my insurance funds. Good luck getting me.

>>3189010
Max was nice to us. Would he like to look a decade younger if he consented to oral insertion?



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