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

Tok || D&D OC || OTA

[statictunedintoreason]

▶ THE COMPUTER IS YOUR FRIEND

New horizons

---

Among the smallest of the new visitors was a little rust-colored reptile. Just under a meter in height and dressed simply, in heavy cotton with thick leather gloves and boots, a welder's apron covering her front and smoked-glass goggles resting, for the moment, atop her head- and she was nothing short of ecstatic.

There were things she'd thought about here, conceptualized, dreamed of but completely lacked the knowing to acheive- there was gold here, used to conduct lightning, without so much as a spark of magic needed- aluminium in spades which boggled the mind-

Rivers of liquid that had to be colder than any ice she'd ever seen, liquids her arcanist's lenses identified as nitrogen- nitrogen! In liquid form! The things she could do with this, the things she could make.

The kobold wandered, instead of any particular direction, following whatever piqued her interest, sketching and noting everything in a grease-stained little notebook, only for a shriek to pierce the air (and ears of any unfortunate bystanders) as a little construct zipped by her feet-

And far from fear, the noise was clearly one of glee, as she bent down to scoop up the little robot with an expression not dissimilar to that of a child having found the world's most interesting toy. "Look at you! what d'you do, an' who made you- an' the legs! Look at' little legs, ohhh, you're a precious little construct, aren't ye-"

This could go on for some time.

▶ KOBOLD SPACE PROGRAM

The universe's biggest candy shop

---

Tok had been at this for hours, and she hadn't even got to the building yet. Her little leather notebook was rapidly running out of room, and she was absorbing the information being presented faster, almost, than it could be presented-

These were ships. Ships that could fly through space, thousands of times faster than even elemental airships could fly, made of materials and using fuels that threw every calculation and formula she had out of alignment. And they were going to let her just... have one?

As many as there were, the impossible amount of resources this all would've taken to make, it threw every expectation out the window. Things to take into account- engines, fuels, the shape of the crafts themselves-

She flipped a page in her journal and found- nothing. The back cover. She'd used the last page.

"Anybody got a spare notebook? Few pages in't back of a journal? Bit o' napkin they ain't used yet? Bugger me, I left all me spares back at 'ome..."

▶ CYBOLD CENTERFOLD

Top 10 photos taken seconds before disaster-

---

Working out the tablets had taken a minute, but to her credit- Tok was a quick learner.
Tell me a little about yourself.
Ey up, all! My mates call me Tok. Anybody else from Sharn, or is that just me?
Anyroad, I'm an engineer. I build things- mostly clockworks and golems, but I'm all over, me. Never thought I'd be building an airship as could see the stars, but just goes to show you, I suppose. Even if we don't find this treasure, I tell you, I'm going home with enough knowing to revolutionize just about every field I could touch, once I work out how it's all done.

Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER?
I'd prefer to work with folk what are on equal standing with me, but when folk don't know what to do, I don't mind taking charge. Sometimes you've got to lead by example!

What is your best feature?
I'd have to pick the ones I built myself, if you take my meaning.

What had followed, unfortunately, was a three-image sequence-
-A rust-scaled kobold in her underthings, both arms and one leg crafted, seemingly, of brass and steel, moving like clockwork, with a second leg on the table in front of her, seemingly under maintenance.
-The same kobold frozen mid-shriek, reaching out of frame for something.
-The very same kobold pointing an almost comically-oversized cannon at the camera, a crackle of electricity running the length of the barrel.

And, not much later, another post.

Anybody know how to erase this? I'd have liked to be told, if anyone was gonna be taking a portrait of me in my knickers.

THE COMPUTER IS YOUR FRIEND

[somuchshipping]

It may take a minute or two, but Hermes eventually hears the talking and jogs closer to inspect where it's coming from. What he sees brings a giggle out of him, tinking his screenface as if to cover up laughter coming from the mouth. To such a small kobold, this seven-foot-tall AI in a shell could seem like a behemoth.

"Yeah, those little things really are adorable, aren't they?"

! friend computer!

[statictunedintoreason]

"Well aye! I dunno what they're even for and I know I want a dozen in my workshop-" She turned, looked up, and found herself staring at an unmistakably constructed being. Orange eyes widened, pupils dilating not unlike a cat's, and she couldn't quite help herself as she circled around for a better look.

"Ain't you champion," she breathed. "Where'd you come from- an' speakin'! That's not a Magic Mouth spell or somethin' is it, you're actually talking? What's your name- or whatever you'd like t'be called- I'm Tok, me, d'you live 'ere or are you from somewhere else-"

Re: ! friend computer!

[somuchshipping]

Hermes recognizes the feeling of being appreciated. He does have friends. He knows that he has people that don't want him to die. Thanatos. Mors. Pan. Eros. Cupid. Hades. The current player of his computer game. Apollo, before he died. But he's never felt THIS amount of appreciation. He can't help but feel smug about it, straightening himself to try and stand his full height.

"You have a really good eye. I'm a Hermes unit. First-gen. Buuuut just call me Hermes. I'm the best tutorial-giver of the computer game called Fortuna. It's really nice to meet you, Tok! SoYou'reAMagician? What's magic like? My computer game doesn't have a magic system. Just some psychics."

[statictunedintoreason]

"Nah, I'm no wizard. I do a lot'f artifice, like, but that's just applied engineering-" She was already writing, looking more excited by the moment. "D'you know how you were built? An' psionic-based? Have t'look into that- and you look nothin' at all like't warforged, neither, I knew that weren't just a fluke. Is that glass, what's on your face- You'll 'ave t'forgive me gettin' excited about this, only I've only ever seen constructed life one other place, an' they've been kept in't dark about how they were made- but you! Just you bein' around proves it ain't just a miracle!"

Today was a good day.

[somuchshipping]

Hermes chuckles, being incredibly amused at this amount of enthusiasm toward him. This is not something he's ever seen as both the human players of Fortuna and all the ingame characters don't fawn over any AI like this. Sure, first-gens get worshipped by some select few species of Fortuna, but this is way different. This is childlike wonder.

"Woah, slow down a little. Listen, if I can find you a copy of the computer game I'm from, you'll be the first person I'll give it to. This is actually my first time in the real world! If anything, it was SUPERBIA that gave me this shell, unless you want the ingame lore...?"

[statictunedintoreason]

That was... a lot of familiar terminology applied in unfamiliar ways. Compute was an accounting term, wasn't it? For a lot of things that involved doing sums. So a computer was... a device, probably. A device that did sums? Could you make a game out of that?

The mention of a 'real world' was something else. Did that imply the existence of a... fake world? That bore investigating. "Dunno what a computer game is, but I'm guessin' there's loads 'ere that's a bit out my reach- for't moment, anyroad. I'll pick it up as I go. But if it's SUPERBIA what built' shell..." She grinned, and there was a spark there that made her somehow even giddier with anticipation. "Not just con-structed life, but life what can exist independent of't body. Ha!" She punched her own palm, and there was a faintly hollow noise beneath the heavy welding gloves, like what was beneath wasn't quite flesh and bone. "If that ain't a soul, I'll eat me apron an' them buggers up Temple Street can eat my arse. I tell you, 'ermes, I've got no bloody clue where I am, I'm confused, I ain't 'ad lunch, and I'm clammin' for a pot'f coffee, but it's a good bloody day."

[somuchshipping]

A... soul...? Hermes pauses at this. Not once in his over 60000+ ingame years of existence has he ever thought of whether or not he had a soul. Do computer game NPCs even deserve souls? I mean, they don't exist for themselves. They're to help the players of the computer game get more enjoyment. And if the player wants to kill them, then the player SHOULD kill them and the NPCs have no right to stop them.

Hermes knows he violated that last bit of thought right before he was taken to the real world, but Hermes actually wanted to live. When he tried to stop his own death, sure, he did survive... somehow... but now, he's worse off than how he was before. Hermes glances to one of his claws. Even though it's clean right now, he can still see the simulated blood on it.

The blood of one of his AI friends that turned out to be something Hermes was completely unaware of. And sure, SUPERBIA said it would take away the bad code of an infectious disease, but still. Those events still happened.

...

"...I don't think NPCs like me are allowed to have souls."

[statictunedintoreason]

Her face fell, slightly, and she frowned. She'd never been the best with words; in fact, she knew she was pretty bad at them. "I don't think anybody gets to decide that, 'Ermes. It's sort of thing you either have or you ain't conscious enough t'ask. An' if anybody else told you that, they were wrong."

[somuchshipping]

Hermes simply shakes his head. "I'm a fictional character for a computer game made for the entertainment of human people in the real world. It's not really what the players say, but what NPCs like me are supposed to do for them. If they want to help us, they do it. If they want to murder everyone on a planet, we can't stop them."

Hermes has such a defeatist attitude about this, but it's because he's learned that whatever the players want to do, they do it.

[statictunedintoreason]

That was... so tremendously sad. How did a person even end up thinking of themselves like that? "... Y'don't look too fictional t'me. I ain't known you but two minutes, 'Ermes, an' I can tell you think, an' feel, an' probably bleed, some way or another. Not bein' strong enough t'stand up t'people who mean you harm don't mean you ain't a person. It just means you're like most of everyone else."

[somuchshipping]

Hermes gazes at the tiny kobold. He can't actually bleed, but Hermes does get the meaning behind Tok's words. The AI has been though a lot and bought a lot on himself by trying to be a good person and defending himself from others that would hurt him, but here he is, being told that he should try to be a good person and defend himself. Hermes can't help but feel afraid of the consequences if he tries to meddle again.

He'll just abruptly change the subject. There is no slick, smooth way to do it.

"S- so, what's it like in the real world? Do you work for someone?"

[statictunedintoreason]

The change of subject was obvious, but Tok accepted it. The last thing she wanted to do was make people uncomfortable. "I'm sort of my own boss, me. That ain't t'say I don't do work for other people, of a time, but I decide who I do it for. Ain't steady work, mind you, but sometimes you've got t'trade security for freedom. 'Course, there's always a way t'make coin back 'ome, if you're willin' t'go into some mad undead bugger's tomb an' blow shit up, or what 'ave you. No shortage of people as need t'be stopped, unfortunately."

[somuchshipping]

Hermes heard explosions. Explosions are good. He perks right up as if the previous twenty seconds has never even happened.

"Wow! You must see a lot of action! WhatWasThe MostActionyWork You'veEverBeenIn? DidYouAlmostDie? WereYouOnAny MissionsTo ToppleEvilSlaveTraders?"

It's not that Hermes is upset with things like that. He just thinks it's just some entertaining things to watch.

Kobold Space Program

[sleepfan]

Linhardt quickly realizes that most people here are not taking notes with quills in hand bound notebooks. They seem to be using the information boxes? But the mage doesn't know how they work, and so he doesn't trust them to save his information. The ones that are taking notes physically are using materials Linhardt has never seen before.

Mostly.

There's a small creature who is using things that he recognizes, and when Linhardt (inconsiderate of things like privacy) leans over to see what he's writing, he brightens up a bit. He knows that math! This person is trying to figure out the same things he is.

Linhardt pats down his coat and pulls an extra notebook out of his pocket and hands it to Tok. It's small, a pocket notebook at best, but it's blank.

"Here. And we should check each other's math."

He flips open his own notes and shows them to Tok.

"And see how much we can understand together. Making mistakes here could get us killed - we should be as accurate as possible."

[statictunedintoreason]

Tok blinked, and looked up at the human now addressing her... and she smiled. Someone who understood the numbers! The notebook was small, but then, she had small hands. "Oh, thanks! I tell you, all this? I've spent my 'ole life workin' with metal an' learning how t'make clockworks an' elemental engines an' such. But this..." She gestured helplessly at a section of wing. "D'you know what metal that is? Well, actually it's an alloy, there's bits of manganese an' zinc in, but most of it's aluminium. Aluminium! I've seen aluminium spoons in them posh hotels up Skyway, but they've only build a bleedin' airship out'f it. How d'you get that much aluminium? Buggered if I know, but I mean t'find out!"

She was already scribbling again, diagrams and figures and compositions of materials- "Are you an engineer, by trade? There ain't many folk who'd know trig-o-nometry, just by sight."

[sleepfan]

An engineer. Thank the Goddess. Linhardt is a theoretical researcher, not someone who applies what he learns.

"I know! There are entire vehicles made of metals I've only managed to create a few specks of using fire magic." Linhardt's fire magic can be hotter than the forges Fodlan has, but not for very long, and it's hard to direct so it's useless for much other than 'proof that these metals exist'. The usual disinterest has dropped off his face and Linhardt fights the urge to wave his hands around in excitement. New materials! AND a person who understands why that's exciting! "There must be forges capable of temperatures and fine-grained refinement that we don't have on our worlds. And they have to have some way to remove the impurities." His aluminum is crap.

"Elemental engines? Do you mean engines that work via magical power? Can you show me? I know such things exist but I've never been able to investigate them. If we can make one, it may be wise to add one as a backup form of power to our ships."

Linhardt doesn't know how space travel works, but he knows that ships have some magical redundancy in case they're caught on windless seas.

Then she asks the question: 'who are you?' Linhardt sighs.

"No. If I had a choice in trade, I would be a scientist and magical researcher. I'm the heir to my country's infrastructure management, and my territory contains the majority of the country's ore." Which is why he knows these things: They can't build bridges or other types of infrastructure without at least some engineering knowledge.

Tok knows things Linhardt doesn't, but at least he can immediately understand what she's writing and describing. Which is kind of nice.

[statictunedintoreason]

There was a smile, and a spark in her eyes like forgelight, a half-feral glee that bubbled up as she listened. Posh or no, he got it. "Elemental engine's more or less a bound elemental- big dumb animals, like, made'f planar energy. Once bound, they can be made t'do work for you- bloody powerful, but expensive. So much so it's only posh folk as can afford anythin' what uses it. No offense meant."

[sleepfan]

Linhardt matches her energy easily - nobody from Fodlan likes talking about these subjects. His father is always focused on what is practical, traditional, and they know to work. 'Be practical with our country's resources, Linhardt.' And the Church, allies or not, are deeply uncomfortable with Linhardt's love of forbidden and heretical knowledge.

(He doesn't understand why knowledge would be forbidden, but they can argue about that after they keep from being subjugated.)

"Can you explain planar energy to me? I'm not familiar with the term."

Linhardt waves off the idea that he would be offended. He is wealthy, and that does mean he can afford things others can't. Tok is simply describing the state of the world.

There is something about Tok's explanation that doesn't sit well with him, however: "Is it right to bind other creatures to your will that way? That is slavery, isn't it?"

[statictunedintoreason]

"That's another concern, aye," she said, darkly. "Part of why I don't personally use 'em anymore, but they ain't... intelligent same way people is. It's like this-"

She drew a circle. "This is 'ome. The world, the Material plane. Rocks, water, life, magic, the 'ole sausage roll- an' these-" she drew several much smaller circles, on orbits around it. "These is the planes. Fire, Ice, Day, Night- a few others, but those is't big ones. It's like... from't outside, it's just sort of- flat. But inside, it's big- bloody near infinite. Just a great big expanse of nothin' but magic. When you make an elemental, you bind up a little bit'f that plane, an' bring it to't world. Let it go, and it just goes back. They think, they can even speak, really, but the way their minds work is just- different. Fire elementals is mostly 'appy if you give 'em somethin' t'burn, earth elementals don't do much unless you stick a pickaxe in 'em. But you ain't wrong. Differently intelligent is still intelligent, an' just because everyone else is doin' it don't mean spit. I've found a few alternatives as work in't small scale, at least."

[sleepfan]

The mage watches Tok draw, listening to her like this is the most enthralling thing he's ever heard in his life. Because to his brain, it nearly is. All thoughts of the space ships temporarily flee from Linhardt's mind, replaced entirely with Tok's cosmology. Entire planes of magic? That's fascinating.

"In Fodlan, we need to generate the energy ourselves or harness already existing energy on the...Material Plane?" That's the correct term, isn't it? For where they live their lives.

"It sounds as though elementals are similar to ants - they're both individual and part of a whole?" Ha, take that, people who thought Linhardt's observations of insect life were pointless. There is an application!

"Do you want to make a magical engine with me? I should be able to power one, though with much less force than an elemental. Unless we have a way to store magic?" His voice raises hopefully.

[statictunedintoreason]

The kobold's ears perked, and she looked up, considering. "That'd be an 'ell of a thing. I'd need t'work out how they goes, exactly, but could do..." She cupped her chin.
She did, in fact, have a way to store magical energy. That was the way her Animus Drive worked-storing the energy generated by the soul and the world around and converting it to usable power- but without something living to attach to, it wouldn't work at all.

So how would that work? "... I know that black powder, stuff what's used in muskets an' such- basically that's a big explosion as propels stuff... But you'd need a load of black powder and a bloody big explosion t'make somethin that big move. I'd 'ave t'look at fuel, see what it's made of. Most magic I know for flight can't make a body move faster than most birds, and I'd imagine you'd need t'go much faster than that. Not t'say it couldn't be done, but we'd be steppin' into unexplored territory. So! Not that much different from what I do at 'ome!" She cackled, an impish grin forming. "I'll need t'bring such an engine back once I'm done 'ere anyroad, so you've gotchourself a kobold." She held out one hand to shake, beaming.

[sleepfan]

"Not for a space ship! Not yet. Something small to start with while we learn more about how the space ships work. I just wanted to see a magical engine..." Linhardt's world is a bit behind Tok's, it seems. He trails off because he thinks some part of him should be ashamed of such an impractical request of a stranger, but is he actually? No. He does want to see how a magical engine would work.

And she agrees anyway, so it's a null concern. He likes her. Not a responsibility lecture to be found. Linhardt gives her a warm smile as he shakes her hand with a firm grip.

"There may be similarities between space ship travel and my warp magic, and..." He lets go of her hand to rifle around and produce a small notebook of his own, which he waves in her face, "I've already started making note of the energy requirements and new physical constants." Linhardt offers her the notebook.