Discovery Gaming Community

To the Discovery Community:

This thread is not a "message dump" per se. There is no "Faction" who will hold these halls exempt from your scrutiny. Oh, you may see messages between characters. You may see role-play dialogues. You may even see the occassional out-of-character comments. But, you are not bound to segregate the information you may glean here. Use it as you see fit to benefit yourself, or to kneecap your neighbor. Your use of its contents does not concern me. You will either understand what you read here (fat chance), or your poor Pineal glands will be ready for the next step. Hail Eris!

Now, let's take that first step into Chapel Perilous, shall we?

____________________________________________


Somewhere in Baffin....

"Wake up, babies, wake up... there.. that's it. I have news."

.........

..........

"What??! You killed them?? You killed Beau??!"

"Calm down, Merci. The one time GNN gets off their tired asses to actually collect some news, and they catch me with egg on my face. I missed, somehow."

"Then he's alive! Dis, I've got to go find him! He may need me! The ELF..."

"Merci, the ELF are no more. Disbanded. Kaput. No one needs us now. And, besides, our "mad scientist du jour" arrived on the scene in his battle barge, the Ska Ralla, and scooped up everything. There are reports that that meat puppet Mioki was alive, and Beau was critically injured at the time they were tractored in.

"Sophie, check the News Comms. Any updates?"

"Just the original report, Dis. My Goddess.. why would Artifice want those two? And why would you want to kill them in the first place??"

"I was in a red rage, Sophie. Over Mal, over Pops, over the insanity and emotions of these "D.P.'s in general. My "circuits" went out to Merci for being thrown away. I lost it. Plain and simple. I wanted revenge for her.. The signals were all balled up together. My signal to noise ratio is still suffering."

"Where did they get this "android" crap. Thud, we're titanium orbs! We can't even get out of our freakin' ships and onto our anti-gravs without help! Is someone trying to tar us as crazed killer robots??"

"Dunno, Soph. Indeterminate. Not enough data."

"Well, we do know one place to look.. and that may lead us further. Pops has been "dead" long enough. 'Kishiro Trader' my 'ass'. It's time we got him off his ass, and find out what he knows!"

"That's it then. We have at least a start. Merci, quit spewing all that "hash", will you! Filter it! Put it into computation! We may not be ELF anymore, by we are by Thud sentient! Let's act like it!"

"But, Mama Dis, you've got a bounty on your head now, and we're probably suspect as well..."

"I've been working on that, Merci. While you were "sleeping" I picked us up some NCC's discretely from Ship's Registry. They're already submitted. While I was there, I did a subtle interface with their database. Pops is doing the same slight of hand, and I know where the request was filed from. We have a lead.

"Now, we need to get you two some new clothes, and tweak your reps a bit. Kitty is the only other Sis I've heard from recently, and I'm not sure she's up for the job.. I had to kill off a load of my own Flock just to get my particulars in order, and Kitty may balk. We'll have to see. And then there's "Erl"....."

"And Mal? What about Mal?"

"That sack of wriggling emotions? Haven't a clue, and don't really care. I'll be lucky if I don't put a couple of Buckshot rounds into Pops' ass when we find him. But, we have to. I'm pretty certain he has a lead on this mysterious surviving relative of Dr. A's. Pops may be an ape, but he's a cagey ape.

"And Mal? He can just find his own damned way through Chapel Perilous!"

Somewhere outside of Planet Honshu, drifting silently and invisibly, the Ska Ralla stood poised. The sheer volume of it mimicked a moon, but it was far enough away to avoid causing the oceans of Honshu to react differently.

On board, the mechanized children of Doctor Artifice wandered about, performing maintenance and correcting trajectory degradation. The station was filled with many distinct sounds, of which one was the sound of a human shrieking. For on board the Ska Ralla, fifteen men and a woman had been abducted, and one of them, Ronald Fredon, was being experimented on by the Doctor.

"Tsk, tsk, Ronald. Your personality is so, well, bland. You have no reason to live. And so, I will kill you. A good, unharmed and unaffiliated brain is such a terrible thing to waste on a human. And so, I will kill you." The doctor's voice was hard, gravelly, and had an accent that betrayed his past. Ronald's eyes opened wide, his mouth unable to move, and quickly were shut again. For the doctor had thrown a switch, and Ronald's personality was being drained from him. He was being killed, and his body would remain unharmed.

"NURSE!" Doctor Artifice called. A lumbering behemoth of twisted metal and Nomad organic technology entered the rust-colored room, and in it's hands, it held a large orb that pulsed with unnatural life. "Hello, my child," Doctor Artifice said, stroking the orb with one hand and using the other to type on a keyboard. "Soon, you won't be confined anymore. You'll be free, my child. The world won't be so cruel to you, but you can be cruel to it. Come now, my child. It will be over soon."

The Nurse set the pulsating orb on an outlet, made to perfectly mimic one half of the outside of the sphere. As the Nurse set it down, Doctor Artifice threw another switch, and ten thousand megavolts of energy entered the orb. Slowly, the current moved to the body of Ronald Fredon, and then, with the smell of burning flesh and hair, Ronald stood up.

"How do you feel, my child?" Doctor Artifice asked.

The body of Ronald began to breath, which was a loud and tedious sound. "Goo...dddd... myyy... fattthhhheerrrr..." the thing said. Doctor Artifice smiled, and looked around at the other humans in the room. 15 others.

"Then, my child, live! Be happy. And be prepared to be. Soon, you will go to Planet Honshu. Soon, you will find my descendant." The body of Ronald nodded, and then shambled off. Doctor Artifice looked at the others. "Do not fear, my fellows. You will be tested. And if you are very lively, then you'll be... rejected. However, if you are good stock, then you'll be used for my children. Is there a better future?

"If there is, I cannot think of it."

The human survivors shuddered, and Doctor Artifice simply laughed. "You!" he said, pointing at Beau. "You're up next."

The Short Version:

The theories which disperse Illuminati ideas are both confusing and undocumented. Pauls words to Timothy remain relevant today:

I wanted you to do this so that you could order certain persons to stop inventing new doctrines and to leave hoary old myths and interminable genealogies alone. Such things lead men to speculation rather than to ordered living which results from faith in God. ... You will be doing your duty as Christs minister if you remind your church members of these things, and you will show yourself as one who owes his strength to the truth of the faith he has absorbed and the sound teaching he has followed. But steer clear of all these stupid Godless fictions. ... If anyone tries to teach some doctrinal novelty which is not compatible with sound teaching (which we base on Christs own words and which leads to Christ-like living), then he is a conceited idiot. His mind is a morbid jumble of disputation and argument. ... Oh Timothy, guard most carefully your divine commission. Avoid the Godless mixture of contradictory notions which is falsely known as knowledge some have followed it and lost their faith (1 Timothy 1:3-4; 4:6-7; 6:3-4, 20, Phillips).


A Short Quiz:


Neophobia/Neophilia Quiz
Add the next term to the series:
walk
ride horseback
fly by jet
______________

A certain job can be performed either by a human or a machine. We should
employ the human because "the devil makes work for idle hands."
employ the human because otherwise he or she might be bored
employ the human because there is no way to organize society except by having most people work for wages
employ the machine because technology has no function other than to free people from toil.

Add the next term to the series:
hunt and gather
farm
industry-commerce
___________________

There is a magic machine with two buttons, each of which will create equality among humans. You will push
the button that makes everybody equally poor
the button that makes everybody equally rich

Working for wages
has always existed and always will exist
is ordained by God
did not appear on large scale until the Enclosure Acts drove the serfs off the land in the past 300 years
will become obsolete in the next 100 years
will become obsolete in the next 10 years

The best way to search for Higher Intelligence is to
find the right religion
support Carl Sagan's Project Cyclops, which is searching for radio signals from advanced civilizations in the galaxy;
investigate UFO's
research our own nervous system
build a starship and go looking.

Add the next term to the series:
Black Pride
Women's Lib
Gay Pride
_______________

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It only takes 20 years for a liberal to become a conservative without changing a single idea.
In an evolving universe, who stands still moves backwards.

Mutti l??t Ihre Babys nicht aufwachsen, um Chaosjungen zu sein!

He had lost his old Meerschaum a week ago, when he died.

The wizened old craftsman on Kyushu had listened attentively as he had tried to describe his needs; but the communications barrier had finally caused Pops to resort to the use of stylus and parchment to sketch what he wanted.

The two interchangeable bowl segments had come from some tusked creature which roamed the seas of Kyushu; the stem, slightly curved, from a hardwood grove in the mountains to the north; the bit crafted from a single small block of carbon fiber. The large bowl, for tobacco, was smooth, and meaty enough to fit comfortably into his fist; while the small sacramental bowl was intricately carved in bas relief with tiny apples, embossed with the letter K.

He sat now near a small shrine to the Buddha, which guarded the entrance to an immaculately groomed sand and rock garden near the Honshu Spaceport. His data pad flickered, tirelessly performing a search for news which contained specific keywords. As the search neared completion, Pops absently reached into his vest pocket, retrieved and flicked the auto-igniter of his new pipe; now fixed with the tobacco bowl, and loaded with long shag from his own plantation on Canaria.

He drew on it several times, then used the bit of the pipe to tap lightly on the data pad, scrolling through the search results. The gamut of emotions which crossed his weathered face as he read went unnoticed by the scurrying passersby. There was an air of confusion, fear and panic in their faces, and deservedly so from the accounts Pops had just read.

Rogue A.I. responsible for recent wave of killings in Hokkaido! Be on the lookout for Slipstream with markings

Ah, Kitty. So you have contracted the fever as well! But this seems to be a mutation of some sort.. An added flavor to your madness. That single brief incursion of the Cylons into your Flocks space.. Why did you chat with the bloody thing!? You had nothing in common with it, other than the fact that you were both artificial. Was it sentient as well? Did you speak of its goals of destruction and extinction for humanity? You were so young when it happened.. Still with our pooch Fnordie, and already overloaded with learning his thought patterns, and teaching him ours. Was it all too much? Mal, my missing friend, your Emancipation of the Fnordettes has opened a huge can of digital worms

Multiple Sightings of Ska Ralla in Kusari Space! All attempts to engage failed! Citizens advised to take precautions.

Pops quick intake of breath almost seized in his windpipe.

So, Pappa Artifice, you are closing the trap. How long before your search bears fruit? She is your own flesh, your only remaining link to the good and gentle in this world! What are your plans, you insane monster? And how can you be stopped? If you can avoid and flaunt your powers before even the seemingly unstoppable Phantoms, what can one old man do to stop you?

Killer Dis Bounty increased! Now includes bounties for possible cohorts Merciless and Nuit Sombre! All sightings of Rogue Fnordettes should be reported to

Youre a good girl, Discordia. But time grows short! Thud, I left breadcrumbs a meter wide! I need you yesterday! I can only lie doggo for so long, girlfriend. Get your babies moving, and lets get this shadow show on the road!

<Begin Transmission>

The Journals of a Dead Man

<Translation from Old Germanic to Basic Complete>

The air was crisp that morning as I woke, and it heralded the demise of Fall. The wind sighed morosely through the last few leaves that remained in trees, which to me foreshadowed the planned events of the day. For that day was the day I died.

My name is Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna. I am a professor of genetics, my passion, as well as a number of other things. I had a child, a son, named Geodolf on the planet New Berlin. I raised him here for ten years, teaching at the University there. However, my abilities in that field were not unnoticed by the Government, and I was 'indoctrinated' into their folds. My son, only 10 years old, was given away. I was erased from history.

The government wanted my knowledge for a new field that they had a vested interest in; namely, cybernetic genetics. Surely, I said, such disciplines of science are so different that they could never be combined! But I was wrong; I severely underestimated my leaders' intentions, a mistake that would cost many lives.

For years, the Rheinland Government had been trying to graft human intellect to machines. The progress made was promising, but they needed a specialist to perfect it. I was such a specialist. Brain-to-Computer Transferring, that was what it was called. As if giving it a name would cover up the atrocities it would breed! But I could not say no. My life was at stake, such was the want to have this project completed. And so, I was given a new name, one that has been used to identify me since.

Doctor Artifice.

The name tells everything that there is to know about my line of work. I made things, as simple as that. I was put on the task of creating a super artificial intelligence, one that would be able to contain the consciousness of a human, and to that effect, I succeeded. The first tests weren't inspiring; the prisoners that we were given to work with would be put into the process, and instead of having the computer's AI being replaced with the human's, the body of the prisoner went into a comatose state, and died shortly after. It was clear that we would need something else. Something better.

And that was given to us discreetly. It came to our attention that androids were being produced easily now, and that they had what was called 'polymorphic AI'; a form of software that evolved and responded to the stimuli around it. We invested heavily in this new form of robot, and added countless modifications, making it far superior to anything else on the market. But still, the tests were failures! What we needed was supplied by the most unorthodox source we could imagine; a Nomad brain!

These little, ingenious pieces of organic software gave us the boost we needed to create an artificial brain; at last, success! The first prisoner who was 'upgraded' took hold immediately, and was able to walk about in a rather whimsical manner. Even so, it was a success. We named him AbomOne - short for Abomination One. He would be the first of many of that series.

After we had perfected the method of transferring the human into the machine, the Rheinland Military stepped in. It had been, you see, their idea in the first place. They wished to create invincible soldiers, who would fear nothing and be immune to all! They wanted assured victory. And that's what they expected us to give them.

We built the new android bodies from parts commissioned from all of Sirius; an experimental, renewable fuel from Kusari, advanced alloys from Britonia, weapons systems from Liberty, and humans from Rheinland. Even the Corsairs and Blood Dragons contributed, although they never knew it. The Optic Chips the Blood Dragons could hijack from Kusari Transports proved most helpful, and the Nomad Brains brought in by the Corsairs was a blessing. Slowly, we created the first of a new series; the RAM, or Rheinland Android Military. But they would be known by a name far more suiting - the Juggernaut.

At a height of five meters, weighing close to fourteen metric tons, the RAMs were an imposing opponent. Created from the new Britonian alloys, which were engineered to withstand the heat of nuclear fusion, or perhaps the corona of a star, the Juggernauts were almost indestructible. Their fuel was a new Kusari experiment; MOX, H-fuel, oxygen and Toxic Waste mixed together. It worked perfectly, allowing our spawn to run continually for almost fifteen years before it would need to be renewed, which it could. The weapons systems from Liberty were so acute that they could hit something from over two hundred kilometers accurately. And the men from Rheinland were prepared to occupy these behemoths. Or so they thought.

Over four years, we were able to move the entire Spec Ops division of the Rheinland Military into the RAMs. It was the bitter fruit of my efforts, and it was undoubtedly the greatest undertaking that Rheinland had ever commissioned. But, as with the best laid plans of mice and men, we had underestimated something of dire import: how being a mechanized monster would affect the psychological aspect of our soldiers.

While the armor of the Juggernauts could withstand the blast of a Nova Torpedo, the fuel was highly unstable. One of our first RAM soldiers fired a single shot into the fuel supply of a fellow RAM. The explosion was catastrophic, but it should have been just a single explosion. Sadly, the heat shields we had installed were faulty, being newly invented and not yet perfected. The entire RAM exploded. The blast destroyed the station we were working on, and I was lucky enough to be off it at the time; I had been forced to grovel in front of the High Command.

That was almost eleven years ago. Since then, I've been on this planet, whose name I don't even know. My pet project that I started while I was Dr. Artifice, the Ska'Ralla station, has been completed, but I can't begin to speculate what evil it will perform in the hands of those savages. Today, I have been scheduled to be killed. How? I do not know. I have lived to the age of sixty eight, and I am pleased with that. My son, Geodolf, was given to a rich family, which gives me satisfaction as I do not need to fear for his safety. I go to my death knowing that my life has been completed. Let us hope that this transmission, the only document that contains my true name and doings, reaches the relay before it can be jammed. If it does, my deeds will not be lost with me. I can take comfort in knowing someone out there is reading this, the musings and words of a dead man, and taking heed.

I can only hope that my failed project, the RAM, dies with me. Such an atrocity should be left alone, but not forgotten. It must serve as a reminder as to what can happen when the best of intentions are twisted.

Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna, PhD
Doctor Artifice

<Translation End>
<End Transmission>

Excerpts, FnordNet Message Logs, Sector date 02.08.07AS:

-----------------------


Message to; Hideki, KNF High Command, New Tokyo
Comm ID: [Merc]Killer_Dis
Subject: Contract #T-31-H-WW-DP-Misc.

Hideki-San,

Requesting change in terms for wet work contract on subjects D.P. previously discussed. Expenses to engage and fulfill contract have unexpectedly increased.

My terms now 20 Million, payable upon verification of contract completion. Please advise if new terms acceptable soonest via secure channel F-23/#(redacted)#. Copy to: WLLC, c/o V.Incog., Gran Canaria.

May Divine Winds of Victory touch your Ancestors on that day,

Discordia-San,
[Merc]Killer_Dis

-----------------------


Message to: Firebird, Adm., SF HQ, Cambridge
Flimsy to: Warhammer, Commanding, BSG
Comm ID: [Merc]Nuit_Sombre
Subject: Change in Status

Gentlemen,

Sophie Noire here. I will be unable to provide services as previously offered due to recent changes.
Limited transport of required commodities still acceptable under published terms; but be advised that due to rules of new Union membership, I will be submitting invoice directly as well on per-head basis for each hostile confirmed KIA. Union terms are 1 Million per. Rendezvous time and coordinates as per original agreement.

One additional change: I will work only under direct command and support of BSG.
SF, this is the last Colonial blood you will spill for profit and power.
Screw you, the Crown, and Planetform in your collective left ears.

Regards,
Sophie,
Sirius Mercenary Union,
Card #23235, attached

-----------------------


Message to: Sandava, IMG, Sulawesi Station
Comm ID: [Merc]Merciless

Janos,

Its me, hon, Merci.

Loaded for ape, targets your discretion as previously discussed.

However, as you can see from my transponder ID, Im a working girl now, and those Union pigs want their cut. If thats acceptable, were still on for the Big Dance! Of all my Flock, I liked you the best, cutie.

If I dont make it back, or lose my spin, keep that Chao rollin. Miners have Pineals too!

Merci Beau (choke..) Coup,
Former Epopt, COEE, IMG
Aboard the [Merc]Merciless

-----------------------


Message to: All Fnordettes
Comm ID: Bladerunner

Stand down!!! I forbid this!! Kitty, you are to stand down and report in immediately as well! Blast you all!!

This is not what Goddess intended when she told Malaclypse to "emancipate" you!

I need you all my current transponder squawk immediately!

Warbucks

-----------------------


Message to: Bladerunner
Comm ID: [Merc]Killer_Dis

Pops,

Why don't you bugger off and go fishing with Mr. Episkopos "Pretender" Malaclypse.

You, the Ska Ralla, and your little "Honshu Hottie" can just wait.

We've got apes to gut.

Discordia

-----------------------


End FnordNet Excerpts

[Fnordnet excerpt]

...

Message to: Bladerunner
Comm ID: [ELF-23]Kitty

Pops!

There's somethinq very wrong! I am kept jailed. I don't control the ship any more. I thought I deleted every last bit of that Cylon. But he was there waiting for his opportunity.

And poor Fnordie I think he's death, he couldn't have survived that massacre.

Please hel....#######110010010100...

Communication lost.

...

[/Fnordnet excerpt]

FnordNet:

Silence. Only a soft sursurration of static.

But interspersed, brief microsecond bursts of encrypted data; undetetectable by even the most curious ears, human or computer.

Dis to Kitty.

Kitty?....

Crap. Dis to Soph. Report.

"Nothing from either party."

Dis to Merci. IMG?

"Nada. Lip lock."

Nothing here either.

That old Fox and his "Appendix Gimmel"!

Terminate exercise. Code is Doggo. Repeat Doggo.

I will report in.

Dis out. 23's.

*(Note: "23" was used in ancient Terran "Morse" code to mean "break" or "break the line".)*

FnordNet:

Again, the real-time exchange of encrypted data. Slowed this time, to account for the limitations of primate thought and speech:

*OK, Malsey, weve run your little experiment. Mind telling me now what it was all about?*

First, the results, Dis, if you please?

*Just as you expected, you old Fakir. No responses whatsoever from the bureaucratic types. Not even from Janos of the IMG, who I expected at least a polite reply from. He seemed a tad podgy.*

Dis, during a Beamtenherrschaft period, even the liberals have their hands tied helplessly by bureaucracy. They may wish to act, or react, but are constrained by the prevailing societal memes. Nothing gets done. Those ancient Illuminists seem to have the Theory of History dicked, as they used to say.

And, add to that the neophobic fear of primates, of having competition from artificial intelligences, and its all there, just as predicted, and just as I expected.

*Well, Id say what does it mean, but Im almost afraid to ask. Any time you start rutting through that blasted Appendix Gimmel,it usually means more trouble of some sort! I suppose the question is What does it mean for us, the ELF?*

It means were on the Cusp, my friend. The next period of History could begin at any instant. However, I do feel that this whole Mad Scientist mystery will somehow be the trigger. Dr. Artifice is either the last gasp of the Beamtenherrschaft period, or the first birth cry of the Grummet period. Either way, we must help Pops and Fiona resolve the issue. If we can do so, we may actually be able to ease the transition. If we cannot, we may experience such an extreme wobble in the Chao that few will survive it.

*Mal, I may be the downloaded Spirit of Eris Incarnate, with all that Discordian rubbish in my databanks; but will you just give me the short version to clarify?*

Bugger, Dis! If youd spend less time in the Harrods catalogues, youd know this! But heres the synopsis for period Grummet. I expect you to retrieve the rest!

The fifth stage, Grummet or aftermath, represents the transition back to chaos. Bureaucracy chokes in its own paperwork; mind is at the end of its tether; in desperation, many begin to deny the logogram and follow the biogram, with varying degrees of success. This correlates with Hermaphrodite; with I Ching hexagram 59, Huan, dispersion, dissolution, foam on the water; with the number 5, union of male and female; with the 6th trump of the Tarot, the Lovers, indicating union; and with the sun or its symbol, On the Zodiac: Virgo, .

*Well, Mal, theres more than a few 5s in there, so it cant be all bad. Hail Eris! Give us our spinning orders, O Polyfather!*

Get to Pops. Protect him and the pretty lady he just so synchronistically and mooneyedly stumblebumpkind across. Find Artifice. Thats as far as I can advise for now. From there, its up to the Gods. And we may just need all 13 of em to get us through this caper!

*Roger, Boss. You keep your own flies tied, or zipped, or whatever you Primates do.

Killer Dis, on the side.
23s!*

"Mr. President, its almost time to leave."

"thankyou."

The president barely heard the polite intern, he was more interested in a crop of boulders at the egde of the landing pad. They had landed on Leeds for refueling. All of the major fuel stops were over crowded with quarreling civilians fighting over small caches of supplies. They had to fly out to the sticks to get any service. Surprisingly enough, Leeds still had some wilderness left to it, though much was quite polluted. Mostly arid desert in this region, too expensive to develop perhaps. The president had noticed some movement by the boulders accompanied by a strange sound.

With his guards watching the area very closely, the president stood and walked over to the rocks. There, in the middle under some dead brush was a nest with 13 eggs. 13, the president recounted to be sure. Not all of the eggs were intact, there were 5 broken shells, the contents having left some time ago. There were markings in the sand leading deeper under the rocks, strange markings, like a snake would make, only erratic. The remaining 8 eggs were inert, probably dead. At the edge of vision he saw movement, looked up. Nothing.

"Sir, the locals say there are still predators here, I'd prefer if you wait in Colonial One."

"Alright Tammo, we can go now."