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

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.