TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[space_aces]

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD

Your journey only happened because of your benefactor, so it begets that it starts at your benefactor as well. SUPERBIA, which is as much of a location as it is an entity, is where everyone's search for Fortuna begins.

There's not much of a welcome party: shortly after their fateful encounter with SUPERBIA, in which they swore to join the quest to find Fortuna, the new Privateers will find themselves afflicted by a sudden change in perspective. See, teleportation is a tricky process, so from SUPERBIA's point of view, why not make the target destination none other than itself? One highly disconcerting moment later, and the Privateers find themselves inside the belly of the beast.

The vast mega-structure is shockingly lonely, void of anyone other than the Privateers. Those who look off the metal satellite and to The Network for intelligence (or take a skim at the Space Wikipedia article) will find out that the surrounding space is clear for lightyears; rumors have it that the place is cursed. It won't take long to understand why.

1

Overclocked

The innards of SUPERBIA are that of an impossibly scaled up computer, and the Privateers start right in the middle of it. You are the spider living in the dusty PS4. Literal rivers of coolant, transistors the size of mountains, landscapes made entirely of circuitry. The sky, bounded by a distant metal ceiling, is constantly alight with coursing electricity that cracks the sky with lightning storms. It can be assumed that the Privateers are the first living things to set foot here, because such a place is not ever meant to be traversed by delicate, organic, mortals that worry about things such as "temperature" or "voltage". SUPERBIA needs not lifeforms to continue its operations; why design for them? Traversal itself is difficult: unscalable walls and perilous drops are common to encounter. The only company the Privateers will find are oddly adorable maintenance robots, which sadly seem too occupied by their directives of maintaining the massive machine to offer any assistance (or even acknowledgement of their new guests).

It is immediately clear that the most urgent priority is to get the hell out of here. Before your adventure ends at the starting line.

2

Skeletons In The Closet

If one stays inside SUPERBIA, either by getting horribly lost or losing all common sense, one will notice a peculiar pattern emerge as one gets deeper into the bowels of the mega-structure. Passages shrink and become more level, and the incredible hostility and danger of the surroundings fade away, until one comes across areas which were definitely intended for humanoid organisms to use at one point.

The construction of these areas is cramped, unfurnished, and dreary; they are reminiscent of artificial environments meant to handle harsh external conditions like a submarine or bunker, but they are entirely livable. One can eventually find distinct rooms, but everything in them has crumbled to dust and their original purpose is nigh impossible to discern. Deeper investigation may reveal the few items that have stood the test of time. While it is more plausible for life to have existed here, that doesn't seem to be the case now. What happened here?

3

The Shipyard

In the opposite direction, when one finally reaches the outer edges of SUPERBIA, they will be rewarded with the place to pick up a spaceship and a stunningly beautiful view of outer space. The outside of SUPERBIA has no atmosphere to get between you and the stars, and they shine brightly, like a beacon calling one out into the first steps of adventure.

The shipyard is already filled with countless space ships of every size, form, and function, all autonomously constructed by SUPERBIA's factories over the countless years. What's the harm in taking one or twenty out for a spin? Even if one has no intentions of permanent ownership of the vehicle, it's not like SUPERBIA will miss it. For a Privateer with a more specific vision, however, there are kiosks around the yard which will allow one to design their very own space ship down to their exact specifications. When the process is done SUPERBIA's matter printers will have it out and space-ready right before your very eyes.

If a Privateer has a ship, vehicle, or large item that they intended to bring with them, they will also find them here, neatly parked in the Shipyard. Why didn't SUPERBIA extend this courtesy to the pilot's themselves? The answer is revealed as soon as the owner makes a closer inspection: the inner contents have been rearranged, like a whirlwind was unleashed inside and assorted loose items thrown around. Now aren't you glad your transportation was given special attention, and the same didn't happen to your innards?

4

Hot Crewmates in Your Area

But how will a single Privateer man an entire space ship? No worries: when one steps into a ship, the strangely endearing maintenance robots will suddenly take acute interest. The robots will follow inside and immediately start assuming the duties of a spacefarer, eliminating the need for extra hands on deck.

Even still, there's just no eliminating the want for a human touch, though. Thankfully even that dilemma has a contingency plotted by SUPERBIA.

Communication devices are easily available on every space ship. They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from huge stationary consoles to portable smartphone-like screens. But whenever a Privateer attempts to access the Network, a pop-up will appear, obscuring the whole screen.

Tell me a little about yourself. Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER? What is your best feature?
The device will be rendered unusable until one relents to the pop-up's demands and provides answers to its questions. What will these be used for? The mystery will be solved when a social media app mysteriously installs itself on the same device, with profiles preemptively made for every Privateer. Each Privateer's profile consists of their given answers, paired with embarrassingly candid photographs. SUPERBIA has eyes in many places it seems.

Comments

[futuradelita]

[ She nodded, ] Planets, though due to how many rich assholes all bought their own Private Cities, you will find space colonies.

I used to be from Puerto Nuevo Vallarta, a planet that was a hundred years late from its terraformation project. The prettier and richer assholes all got Aztlán, instead. Hijos de la chingada.

[retributing]

[ Gaelio can't say much about rich assholes, he's technically one of them. He doesn't own any cities, though. He can, however, say something about greed, and corruption. He doesn't, but his expression is understanding.

Terraforming, though— ] I imagine our attempts at terraforming are primitive compared to yours. What was Puerto Nuevo Vallarta like? —If that's not being rude to ask.

[futuradelita]

[ She smirks, ] No te preocupes, that's home... at least, home before my group and I got on the move.

It wasn't unlivable, since it had enough oxygen not to die, nor too much to get dizzy, an atmosphere you didn't need a suit for, oceans and water to work with, and you could even get non-printed red meat if you knew where and how to to hunt. But it was filled with a lot of badlands.

The planet's better parts were semi-arid, where there could be entire forests of desert bushes and trees that last long after a rain. Everywhere? Hace un calorón de la chingada and there's a lot more sand and boiling heat. Poles were only starting to grow glaciers.

Of course, we got our cities, but you can only do so much when not all of the places have arable land, nor the equipment to ensure you do.

[retributing]

[ Gaelio is lucky - or rather, privileged. He grew up on Earth, of which many parts remain, or have been returned to, a relative paradise. He knows a little more of the situation of the Martians now, though, and it sounds very similar.

He smiles. ] Home is home, regardless of it's downsides. I suppose that's the same anywhere. [ Though he is curious about something: ] The animals you hunted- were they brought in?

1/2 Learned how to hover text! Hover over spanish to translate.

[futuradelita]

Only chicken and venados. They adapted surprisingly well to the planet. Everything else is either too weird to eat... or too big or too armored to kill with civilian gear.

[ She pats her machinegun... before a frown forms when remembering more huntable animals. ]

Y nunca falta el pendejo that brings over rats, roaches, or even rabbits that come and then take over a planet. More things to hunt and feed the more dangerous animals. ¡Como si no estuviera tan culero así como estamos!

2/2

[futuradelita]

[ She then suddenly grins. ]

Of course, a lot of taqueros use printed meat for their businesses, as long as they get dough for them. But not only do you have to hunt every so often to keep a region balanced. Half the times they taste better!

Not a lot of people in Aztlán itself know how real meat tastes like. Have you ever had carne asada with real beef or venison? My Tatas told me once that the people of la Vieja Tierra used to eat real meat before protein-printing became possible.

Ooh nifty! ♥ I've been tossing anything I don't know into google translate.

[retributing]

[ Speaking of the machine gun, Gaelio can only imagine this woman is quite strong. He's a little relieved his apology went over well enough.

He listens quietly and with a smile to the fond memories she shares. As for carne asada, Gaelio glances skyward thoughtfully. ] In space we primarily eat synthetic, as it has a much longer shelf life, but back home we have real meat, yes. I'm not sure I've had carne asada, though.

[ The Bauduins are technically a French family, but Vingólf, where Gaelio spent most of his time on Earth, is slap in the middle of the ocean, a mix of many cultures. Globalization, and the condensing of the world's geography into four economic blocs, led to further melding as well. Local cultures doubtlessly retain much of their cuisine and custom, but Gaelio has experienced very little of it. ]

Apologies for not having done this earlier! Realized this would be hard for others.

[futuradelita]

Hombre, once we begin and rest on some alien planet, I'll show you the ropes for it. Printed meat is good and all, but real meat is for people to gather around with.

We just need wood to turn it into charcoal, and it's easy enough to do it with a sealed starship, so you heat the wood without burning any oxygen.

[ She then puts a hand beneath her chin, as she remembered previous mistakes. ]

Nomás que it makes the sealed compartment smell like ash for a week.

[ Adela then turns ]

¿Pero tú qué? I was also told there were a whole lot of cultures back on la Tierra, and sometimes I heard the odd person speaking something that isn't Inglés o Español. But I've never known of other colonies... beside those of our constellation.

No worries!

[retributing]

{{ooc: too long for the title lol but! I wanted to say it's just been a couple of things I've looked up, you make it really natural and easy to parse at least general meaning with minimal knowledge of the language. The blend of English and Spanish is really well done imo! But actual translation rather than 'I hope Google knows what it's doing this time' is of course lovely and helpful ♥ }}


[ Charcoal... the cooking method is familiar insofar as it is a thing that does exist, but Gaelio has never done his own cooking. It's either served from a chef or kitchen, or comes out of a retort pouch. He nods in agreement though, he's certainly willing to try it, especially if she's enthused about it. ]

I grew up within my organization's circle. Home, school, career. The families that run it are historically from all over the world - mine is from what used to be France - but the culture that has culminated in that circle is fairly homogeneous. Cities and colonies are generally the same for similar reasons - the world was divided into four economic blocs three hundred years ago, and that takes precedence over former country lines. [ He pauses a moment. ] Ah, that isn't to say individual cultures and languages don't still exist, especially on Earth. I've just been a bit sheltered from experiencing them myself.

[futuradelita]

((OOC: Thank you so much for the feedback! I'll continue using the hover-translate in turn, and still try not to have it take too much of her dialogue.))


[ France... France... The most Adela knew was a small colony called Nueva Francia. Apparently from some of the old nation-states of Earth. But a homogeneous culture, all in all. Sadly, it comes to be expected that there would be few economic blocks, overoming any nations. ]

Even my world has plenty of cultures of their own. That's something impossible to take from people. When we settled on the three planets that were the closest to la Tierra in form and habitability, people still carried the stuff they were.

That said... todo perro quiere su hueso. People will split, even when there's bigger threats out there.

[ Not that she knew about it. Not because of alien wars in her sector. No, sir. ]

[retributing]

{{ooc: Ye! I am thoroughly enjoying Adela/our thread :D }}

[ Gaelio can think of many people like that. Perhaps he was included. Something distant passes his gaze, before he seems to shake himself out of it. ]

Small grievances are easier to focus on, to feel like we can make a difference. We're a little short-sighted, that way- and self-centered. It's human nature, I think.

[futuradelita]

Besides, sometimes they hold a grudge with the demon they already know than with the one(s) they don't.

[ Adela then turns around, and sits beside the gigantic machine, simply to stare off at the starships. ]

I think... that's inevitable, in some way? My peoples were the descendants of people that left a horrible regime that formed on Earth. A 'Citizen Republic'. Mis Tatas left, hopeing that we'd get a better life on a new constellarion, but we continued wanting our own sand castles, dividing ourselves by petty strifes... even as we found alien enemies on two sides.

[retributing]

[ That is... a little too on the nose for Gaelio's comfort. He glances elsewhere. Chasing McGillis for his betrayal while next to him, Rustal Elion committed war crimes against children who were only fighting to survive... yes, he knows that well.

He looks back to the other, and leans against Kimaris's foot, folding his arms. ]

Alien enemies? [ Yes, let's talk about that instead. Much better than human shortcomings. ]

[futuradelita]

Ahí está otro pedo. And it's one where we're still on. Doing better than the previous government, but still under a big problem.

When the old peoples established, there were territories that were claimed by a bunch of giant bugs we called the 'Tzizimime' lifeforms, or 'Evil Arrows' as some called them. Colonists on their worlds entered in conflict with them, and we later entered an unspoken agreement where we wouldn't touch each other's worlds. There were skirmishes, but nothing big.

Then there was the Pillar Empire. Ships that entered their space were vaporized. All initial conflicts with them ended badly for humanity. We were warned not to step into their space, uncaring that we were refugees from a previous conflict. For everyone's sake, human migrant governments complied.

[ She readjusts her hat, angry at the assholes in control on both sides of the galaxy. ]

One day, they declared war all of a sudden.

The Tzizimime lifeforms began invading human worlds all of a sudden, overwhelming everyone and everything in number. There were as many fuckers on the ground and in space as there were stars. Then, even the Pillar Empire, who had previously been a dormant empire, suddenly vaporized Tzizimime and Aztlán ships as they fled, and declared that 'humanity and the Evil Arrows had violated their covenant with all species, and will be civilized for the sake of the galaxy.

We don't know what triggered that war. Aztlán blamed the Rural worlds for expanding outwards to the point of angering everyone, the Hacendados said the Terran Federation could have declared war on their side of the galaxy, but nothing is clear. Much less with the distance we all had from them.

[ She then turned her hat. ]

All that I know, is that Aztlán equipment was shit, and that machineguns and mobile units did far better than much of the expensive crap Aztlán boasted while protecting the Haciendas.

[retributing]

Gaelio listens politely, though is quite caught up on the idea that there are 'giant bug' alien lifeforms. The possibility is debated in his time, of course, but there is certainly no proof, much less active warfare with them. His eyes widen a little, though his expression settles into something more troubled.

"There are always those who are simply trying to survive, aren't there?" By which he means those who get trapped in schemes and conflicts bigger than they are, with no recourse but to fight.

But lighter commentary seems better, so he tacks on with a smile: "A good pilot can do a lot with whatever is on hand." Tekkadan had turned tides with wits and ingenuity, despite using old technology.