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

3

[freearcadia]

[After calming down, and making sure Arcadia and it's secret crewmember was unharmed by interior rearrangement, Harlock went to see what other ships were docked.

It's not quite the same, but this avian-like ship felt like it has life - that it's living like his own ship. He walks around it, curious but respectful not approaching too close]

I wonder what's your story...

[machina_ex_luna]

[Now would be an excellent time, if she were inclined purely towards politeness, to speak up. Certainly there are any number of exterior cameras capable of tracking Harlock's progress around her hull, and indeed a serviceable accompaniment of ways by which she might call out to him, the ship's loudspeaker notwithstanding.

But. Well, she has a right to be wary, of course. And it isn't as if it were normal for a ship to talk, which might or might not be worth concealing. Many in the galaxy have strong feelings about AI, after all, and such prejudice is not always unfounded.

Also, it's much funnier to do it this way:

At his second or third circuit, EDI withdraws the ablative plating and opens the airlock with a characteristic hiss. It's just an easy step above ground level, brightly lit, and very inviting. And creepy. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.]

[freearcadia]

[That has 'bait' written all over it, to catch a curious little intruder.

Well, this isn't the first or last time he deliberately took it. He give a brief glance to his own ship as he carefully enters through the airlock.]

Since you open the airlock - I assume you want me to enter?

[Harlock calls out - having no doubt someone is listening in, who or what he's not quite sure yet]

[machina_ex_luna]

[The airlock promptly closes behind him, seals itself shut, and then locks with a deeply ominous clunk. For a moment, there is silence entirely, and then... From an interface on the anterior wall, there issues a cheerful electronic chirp, and a subsequent holographic interface. It's nothing human-like, just a rounded, glowing orb.]

Hello. That is an accurate assumption. Ordinarily, I would have been compelled to assure you that resistance was futile.

[There is a pause. No? Not funny? Tough room.]

...But that seems a bit gauche, under the circumstances.

[freearcadia]

[When the airlock closes with that clunk, he didn't jump, but his hand rested on what looks to be the hilt of a rapier, waiting. His eye flicks to the interface]

Hah... I deserve that. Couldn't help but be curious about this ship.

[machina_ex_luna]

This is the Normandy SR-2, a stealth frigate originating in the Voyager cluster. It is of mutual Human-Turian design, although it has been modified and upgraded extensively.

[Bragging is so undignified. For other people.]

I am EDI. I embody the ship. If you will relinquish any weaponry at the nearby weapons locker— [A compartment slides open at the posterior side of the airlock, a rack of shelves and clips clearly intended for the stated purpose.] I would be pleased to offer you a tour.

[freearcadia]

[Turian? Not a group he heard of before, but he had been gathering people are coming here from different timelines and dimensions - he'll file this away for something to ask later.

'Embody the ship' - AI or mind upload, or... Harlock cut his train of thought short. He glances over to the weapons locker, guarded pausing a few moments clearly considering whether he should comply before he unbuckles his holster, placing both the rapier-like weapon and a long-barreled pistol into the locker]

I am Harlock, Captain of the Arcadia - which is just a little further down the down, I would be glad to accept the offer EDI.

[machina_ex_luna]

[Examining her exterior footage, EDI locates it immediately. It is roughly twice Normandy's size, a drab and blocky design that nevertheless carries some of the elegance of old seafaring ships; a highly impractical design, and an odd size. It's overlarge for a frigate, undersized for a dreadnaught... she can't help but wonder at its purpose.

Regardless, the result is the same: she must discard Captain Harlock as a potential crewmember. He will surely presume to have other obligations. Still, that's no call for rudeness.

The inner airlock opens onto a gangway. To the left are a set of blast doors, firmly locked, and to the right proceeds a narrow walkway. In the gutters to either side lie duty stations, seats currently unoccupied and display screens set to standby.]

To your left, lies the bridge, from which maneuvering adjustments may be made. It is regrettably off-limits at this time. [It's not that she doesn't trust you. It's that she doesn't know you.] To your right, please observe the Combat and Information Deck. Central to the Turian-inspired design is the raised command platform from which the captain or commanding officer may survey the entire deck. The galaxy map display may be configured with infinite variability and...

[She continues, describing as he passes each feature with the smooth professionalism of a flight attendant and the detailed observational skills that only an AI could master. She doesn't tell him everything, of course, nor does she allow him access to the captains quarters, the engineering deck, or indeed all but the most public portions of Normandy's interior; this is still a competition, after all.

But at regular intervals, the ever-present question:]

Is there anything more you would like to know?