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

Linhardt von Hevring | Fire Emblem: 3 Houses - Silver Snow

[sleepfan]

I. Overclocked

[Linhardt stands in the middle of the metal building - (it is metal, isn't it? Mostly? He recognizes some of the materials such as the copper lines running along the walls, but most of them are a mystery) - and marvels. Or at least he does until he's hit with a blast of heat so warm that it burns his hands.

Perhaps he should move. A simple healing spell takes care of his hands, but as Linhardt wanders, he's beginning to realize that his assertion to his friends not to worry, that he could find his way out if this odd entity proved to be malicious... might have been in error. It's hotter here than in Ailell, and there's not only no visible exit, but when Linhardt closes his eyes and tries to feel out the terrain with his magical senses, he finds nothing.

'Don't panic. Panic is not helpful.' But he wants to panic. No. No panicking. Panic later. Thinking now.

The building is hot and full of metal.

Solid metal.

Do these strange metals melt like the ones that Linhardt is familiar with? He's not sure, but he does know the melting point of copper, and some basic mental math confirms that if there wasn't some sort of way to release the heat, the copper would have already melted. So even if there isn't an exit door, the heat has to be let out somewhere.

So follow the heat rivers?

Linhardt falls in next to one of the coolant streams, following it with a single-minded focus until he feels another person. It's weird - their life energy is glaringly obvious in this environment since there are no animals or plant life to obscure it.

He frowns and weighs the pros and cons of speaking. This person might have some more idea about what's going on or how this place works. On the other hand, it would mean talking to someone. A stranger.

It would be wrong to ignore them, wouldn't it? Linhardt sighs and then turns a corner with his hands raised in the universal gesture of 'not a threat' (with his luck, it's going to be Hubert and he's going to be murdered on the spot).]

I think the way out is this way.

[But he's not sure. He's only about 60% certain, and those are not good enough odds. Please know more. It's hot, and while his healing magic keeps kicking in to soothe the hyperthermia, it's also draining his energy at the same time.]

Do you know what this place is?

3. Shipyard

[Linahrdt doesn't go over to the ships right away. In fact, the mage seems ill-inclined to pilot any of the ships at all in the beginning. Instead, he's parked himself in front of one of the kiosks and absolutely refuses to move. He's too busy playing with the ship design mechanics and trying out strange, edge case combinations.

Is there a use to a ship with propulsion only on one side that can only fly in circles? No, but there's one in the shipyard now. A ship with ejectable oxygen generators to reduce mass? No (at least not if the residents need to breathe).

About 85 to 90 percent of the ships he's creating are complete trash: They don't fly, or are missing key components. It turns out that people from medieval era societies, no matter how intelligent they are, are terrible at the practical part of spaceship design. But the process and what it reveals are fascinating. Linhardt's experimentations quickly show size and armor come at the expense of speed. If they're looking for something, surely speed is the correct choice?

And if it's small enough, maybe he could practice enough to warp the ship. He can teleport groups of a few hundred people and animals, and he wouldn't need armor if he can teleport it? The main problem is that the ships are made of dead material. A secondary problem is that Linhardt's magic works on the scale of meters - not millions of kilometers. Still, he can always figure that out later, so Linhardt sets about making a ship that's as small and fast as possible. He completely eliminates putting any weaponry on the ship in order to reduce mass, and he's used to working out of traveling camps so working in the same room he does everything else is fine. Cozy, even.

Once he's finally created a spaceship he wants to try to fly (after dozens of junk machines), Linhardt runs into another problem: He's far too cowardly to test his own ship. The entire process tells him that he does not know enough to be doing this. Not without months of reading, and handicapping himself that way in a race is unacceptable.

He frowns and finally steps away from the kiosk, opting instead to go stare at someone getting ready to take out their spaceship for a flight. Linhardt has zero manners, he doesn't even hide that he's watching and observing. He even pulls out a piece of.. parchment. He's using parchment, an ink vial, and an honest to god quill to take notes on the preparation process.]

Why are you doing that?

[Existing in public is an invitation to be studied, isn't it?]

4. The Network

[He doesn't mind answering the questions, although Linhardt is mildly annoyed at there being any roadblocks to using the device. Having no idea what this is or what the questions are for, he just assumes that answering questions is necessary? Somehow?]

Tell me a little about yourself.

I'm a magical researcher.

[One sentence. If they wanted more, they should have said 'tell me a lot about yourself'.]

Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER?

That depends on whether there's anyone around worth following.

What is your best feature?

Physically? I've statistically gotten the most compliments on my complexion?

[That's a weird question to ask.]

3. | shipyard

[wresting]

( McGillis, in turn, is consulting a datapad as he interfaces with one of the ship's maintenance robots. they're very cute, the maintenance robots, but McGillis's manner suggests he neither cares nor finds them any different than computers relying on voice activation. he utters a list of numbers and letters, designation, followed by a set of commands. the robot wheels to task, beeping and booping along the way.

flicking a gloved finger across the datapad: ) Inspection. SUPERBIA is uniquely generous, but the cost appears to come with a few quirks. ( nevermind some of their fellow privateers like to joyride... )

[sleepfan]

[Linhardt watches from a respectful distance: He may not have respect for McGillis's privacy, but he does have respect for other people's workspaces and equipment. The gestures are interesting; Linhardt can tell that obviously the man is interacting with the small, cute golems (he much prefers these to the ones he's seen) and some kind of...block? Box? That is similar to the kiosks allowing for the space ship designs.]

Are the gestures and commands the same for all the golem-boxes?

[Please teach him the word 'computer'.]

Which quirks? I've never been in space.

[Unless you count him using his magic and a wyvern to see how high in the atmosphere his wind magic would let him go before he passed out from lack of oxygen.]

The size and speed trade-off makes sense, as does the weapon provision. At least if I'm right and mass correlates to energy needs.

[That's how it works for Warp magic at least: Larger things require more energy to move. And that also holds true for moving items by horse, pegasus, or wyvern. Surely it must be similar, albeit using numbers of a scale that Linahrdt is unfamiliar with.]

How do you know what to inspect for? Is there a checklist?

[wresting]

( McGillis pauses, Linhardt's first question as baffling to McGillis as everything else to Linhardt. McGillis turns, then, watching for several moments, his eyes settling on... a quill? positively eccentric in a Post Disaster world. less so, perhaps, in this one, whatever "world" might mean.

lifting his gaze, McGillis closes any distance more than respectable between them, offering Linhardt the datapad. ) See for yourself. ( ...an inspection checklist! ) It's a datapad. Are you a scientist?

[sleepfan]

[ 'Datapad'. That is what it is called. It makes sense, though Linhardt is mildly frustrated: At least at home when he discovers things, he also gets to name them.

Linhardt accepts the datapad, eyes roaming over the offered information, his shoulders sagging in relief.]

Oh, thank the Goddess. Otherwise I would have died.

[He does not know enough about space to pilot a space ship. Linhardt turns his attention to the datapad in its entirety, holding it up so he can examine it from all angles. Why does everything run on lightning magic? Fuzzy, small lightning magic that's working at scales too small for him to 'see' on top of that.

Luckily, Linhardt has acquired enough consideration for others that he doesn't immediately take apart someone else's electronics, though the urge is there. Instead, he starts to copy some of the gestures that McGillis makes. Although he rotates the gestures in a logical fashion (one finger? two? three?), Linhardt clearly knows nothing about computers, as is evidenced by the fact that he doesn't know how close his hand has to be to the screen: He tries the gestures on the back of the datapad and looks confused when nothing happens.]

I'm a magical researcher.

[Linhardt lifts up the datapad to examine it from the back with a frown.]