- Location
- USA
A computer and an operating system are two different products.
DoofQuest- a Disney Villains Victorious CK2-Style Quest
- Thread starter Made in Heaven
- Start date
- Crossover
- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Another reason I'm advocating for them doing something like GR-Terraforming is that it's not in anyone's niche.
Wasabi has a +20 on the SHV laser and Lee has a +20 on Exotic Vehicles. Having LM do them could imply that those task are beneath the experts (or that they're superior to them but I'm leaning towards the worst case scenario).
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
Hmm...you have a point, but the thing is, Lovemuffin wants to do proper mad science. Looking at the GR Terraforming, it's pointed out that it's literally just moving earth around. The laser on the other hand involves blueprints of a mysterious device that we acquired from a pirate, who in turn stole them from one of our competitors. The terraforming might have a higher DC, but the laser just seems like something Lovemuffin would like better from an IC POV.
- Location
- The great frozen north
You do make a good point. Even if LOVEMUFFIN gets a regular failure, it doesn't actually cost us anything. So I suppose a good role for them would be "second highest priority" stuff that isn't important for us to to NOW but is still legitimate mad science, so long as it doesn't have a major chance of critfail.
- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Moving earth around with lava.
We can give them that lava wall from the Incredibles when we build their lair to show them their achievement.
It's both menacing and extremely impractical!
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
I'm...not too sure about that. Don't forget, Stanley wound up making a giant baking soda volcano with this tech. He may not have been able to get real lava safely.
EDIT: I do agree that the lava wall is awesome though.
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- Location
- Two hours away
- Pronouns
- He/Him
The baking soda was due to his time/resource constraints. His inner sanctum had lava.
This was from Stanley's weaponry but I don't see how else he could form a volcano in Danville without heating up the rocks a bit.
This was from Stanley's weaponry but I don't see how else he could form a volcano in Danville without heating up the rocks a bit.
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
Hmm...well, when the next turn is posted, we can ask MiH about how Lovemuffin will react to being out on various projects. If he says they'll be happy with terraforming, then I'm fine with putting them on it.
Virgo with cheer
Also The Evil Within, just so Yaknow.
- Location
- The Place of No Return: Canada
Guys, Guys, we're missing an obvious angle we can attack from. They say our OS is no good? That WADDLE is up to snuff?
I say we Inator our way into the Internet, go over there with our Princess, and show that snooty excuse of a modern millennial how he likes it when we punch his software in its now all too literal face!
Can't possibly fail. *Was that enough death flags?*
I say we Inator our way into the Internet, go over there with our Princess, and show that snooty excuse of a modern millennial how he likes it when we punch his software in its now all too literal face!
Can't possibly fail. *Was that enough death flags?*
- Location
- Somewhere nearby.
Here's this as a neutral Inator
The Reverse-Inator
Sometimes you just know something's going to happen, and can just wish the opposite would happen. Now with the Reverse-Inator it can! Whether you want it to or not. The next Inator activated will now do the opposite of its normal effect, whether positive or negative.
The Reverse-Inator
Sometimes you just know something's going to happen, and can just wish the opposite would happen. Now with the Reverse-Inator it can! Whether you want it to or not. The next Inator activated will now do the opposite of its normal effect, whether positive or negative.
AProcrastinator
You can Certainly Try
- Location
- Getting Somewhere
- Pronouns
- She/Hers
He Go
Potential Fallout from Hego's chat with his sister. Honestly surprised we haven't had more interaction between these two. Apologies for spelling and grammar. It's one in the morning. Damn you inspiration.
He Go
A growl of frustration echoed in the halls of Doofenschmirtz Evil Inc., accompanied by the heavy clang of cast aside steel. Hego grabbed another pair of barbells, and started another set.
"My my, it seems someone has worked themself into a tizzy."
He jerked, dropping the weights and leaving a sizable set of craters in the floor. "Mirage! What are you doing here?" he stammered, "It's not safe for someone like you to be in this area, you could get hurt?"
"Oh? And I thought you were better than that." She smirked at him, "Now quit dodging the question, and tell me what the DEI face of superhero revival is so upset about. Physical release can only get you so far. I may not be at the same level as Technor, but I can lend a willing ear."
He hesitated, before letting out a sigh "I talked with my sister today. She had some... harsh words to say about my lifestyle."
"Oh? She doesn't approve of you going around, saving the day?"
"I... I don't know. She told me she hired D-list villains for me to thwart. Paid them in stock options, cash, and additional powers. Said she did it to keep me out of trouble, that I had my head stuck in an age that was dead and gone. Do you know what that feels like? To learn everything you've built your life around was a lie?"
"You'd be surprised." Mirage whispered, but it went unheard.
"I can't accept that. The world needs heroes, now more than ever, and just slinking away, accepting that we can't ever be the heroes we used to be anymore, I can't do it. Things have to change. The world shouldn't be this way, there has to be something better."
"Do you have any idea on how to accomplish that?" Doofinschmitz's unofficial right hand asked. "It's not as simple as standing your ground and taking on all who challenge you. If it were, then the Golden Age of Heroes wouldn't have ended the way it did. The people have a will, and unless you plan to become a tyrant, you need to respect it. That's why the good doctor is lobbying for change, and applying his money to enact it." She paused, placing a finger to her lips, "Then again, he probably could devise some sort of doomsday device and hold the world hostage for you. After the Probibilinator, I'd put him on the same level as some of the more dangerous villains I know of."
"It's a nice thought, but it would just be the same thing Shego tried." Hego chuckled, "It wouldn't be real work, just playing a part."
"At least you acknowledge that it is work, something a lot of heroes failed to accept."
"Progress, I suppose." He said, rubbing the back of his head, "I just wish there were some other people who I could work with, some of the heavy hitters from back in the day. Heck, if Mr. Incredible was around, I wouldn't have this problem in the first place!"
The surge of tension lasted no more than an instant, and was hidden behind a look of contemplation the time he turned back to Mirage, "You can't walk blindly forward. I've seen what that can do to idealism."
"I don't intend to. My sister showed me what that leads to, just following the script of whoever is pulling the strings, until you find yourself in checkmate, and it all crumbles down like a house of cards."
"Mixed metaphors aside, that is a wise sentiment to adhere to. I have some reading that might prove useful to that pursuit. Some philosophy, academic breakdowns about the end of the Golden Age by historians, even a few self help manuals."
"Don't know if I'll have a chance, the Doc always seems to have some harebrained scheme brewing, and he's no Bugs Bunny, if you catch my drift."
"Perhaps a vacation then. A change of scenery can work wonders, and it's a well known fact that a hero needs to reflect inward to affirm their path, and discover a new way forward. That can be hard to do in familiar settings."
"You think I should wander the wasteland?"
"That might suit your heroic intentions, but the threats that wander it are unknown, and fighting for your life isn't suitable for self reflection." She paused, a frown crossing her face, before clenching her fists. "Might I suggest Nomanisan?"
"I'm not familiar with it."
"It's an old testing facility that Syndrome maintained. He kept it off the books to keep competitors from stealing his concepts, as well as for more sentimental reasons. Most of the equipment was cleared out ages ago, but there's only so much you can do about integrated infrastructure, and a company the size of Kronos can afford to leave a few odds and ends lying around. Older equipment, failed prototypes, that sort of thing. Who knows? You might find some useful equipment for yourself."
Hego frowned in consideration.
"Even if you don't, I think having a deserted island with no chance of civilian casualties or collateral damage can do wonders for a super needing to blow off some steam. Lifting weights can only get you so far."
"You have a point there!" He grinned, before offering her a brief hug. "Thanks for listening, I'll give it some thought."
"Glad to have helped." She smiled, waving as he bounded out of the room with renewed energy. Her frown returned the minute he had left the room. It was a dangerous gambit, far more likely to exacerbate the situation than showing a path forward but Hego was right. Things had to change, and doing so blindly was beyond foolish. If he was going to change the world, he had to see all sides of it. The glory of the golden age, the reasons behinds its end, and the plays for power people made in the shadows until the stars aligned in their favor. It was a complex web, one that could take a lifetime or more to sort out completely, but Nomanisan had some critical puzzle pieces that could make it much easier for the aspiring hero to find his path, if he was clever enough to understand them, and wise enough to put them to good use,
It was dangerous. Even worse, it was unpredictable. It could go wrong in a hundred different ways, it could push Hego over the edge, shattering his beliefs in a brighter future, or even making him accept a darkness than everyone with power had inside of them.
Still, if he could maintain his faith even after his sister did her best to crush it, then Mirage could extend a bit of her own. She had been given a second change by the good doctor, it was time to put it to good use.
He Go
A growl of frustration echoed in the halls of Doofenschmirtz Evil Inc., accompanied by the heavy clang of cast aside steel. Hego grabbed another pair of barbells, and started another set.
"My my, it seems someone has worked themself into a tizzy."
He jerked, dropping the weights and leaving a sizable set of craters in the floor. "Mirage! What are you doing here?" he stammered, "It's not safe for someone like you to be in this area, you could get hurt?"
"Oh? And I thought you were better than that." She smirked at him, "Now quit dodging the question, and tell me what the DEI face of superhero revival is so upset about. Physical release can only get you so far. I may not be at the same level as Technor, but I can lend a willing ear."
He hesitated, before letting out a sigh "I talked with my sister today. She had some... harsh words to say about my lifestyle."
"Oh? She doesn't approve of you going around, saving the day?"
"I... I don't know. She told me she hired D-list villains for me to thwart. Paid them in stock options, cash, and additional powers. Said she did it to keep me out of trouble, that I had my head stuck in an age that was dead and gone. Do you know what that feels like? To learn everything you've built your life around was a lie?"
"You'd be surprised." Mirage whispered, but it went unheard.
"I can't accept that. The world needs heroes, now more than ever, and just slinking away, accepting that we can't ever be the heroes we used to be anymore, I can't do it. Things have to change. The world shouldn't be this way, there has to be something better."
"Do you have any idea on how to accomplish that?" Doofinschmitz's unofficial right hand asked. "It's not as simple as standing your ground and taking on all who challenge you. If it were, then the Golden Age of Heroes wouldn't have ended the way it did. The people have a will, and unless you plan to become a tyrant, you need to respect it. That's why the good doctor is lobbying for change, and applying his money to enact it." She paused, placing a finger to her lips, "Then again, he probably could devise some sort of doomsday device and hold the world hostage for you. After the Probibilinator, I'd put him on the same level as some of the more dangerous villains I know of."
"It's a nice thought, but it would just be the same thing Shego tried." Hego chuckled, "It wouldn't be real work, just playing a part."
"At least you acknowledge that it is work, something a lot of heroes failed to accept."
"Progress, I suppose." He said, rubbing the back of his head, "I just wish there were some other people who I could work with, some of the heavy hitters from back in the day. Heck, if Mr. Incredible was around, I wouldn't have this problem in the first place!"
The surge of tension lasted no more than an instant, and was hidden behind a look of contemplation the time he turned back to Mirage, "You can't walk blindly forward. I've seen what that can do to idealism."
"I don't intend to. My sister showed me what that leads to, just following the script of whoever is pulling the strings, until you find yourself in checkmate, and it all crumbles down like a house of cards."
"Mixed metaphors aside, that is a wise sentiment to adhere to. I have some reading that might prove useful to that pursuit. Some philosophy, academic breakdowns about the end of the Golden Age by historians, even a few self help manuals."
"Don't know if I'll have a chance, the Doc always seems to have some harebrained scheme brewing, and he's no Bugs Bunny, if you catch my drift."
"Perhaps a vacation then. A change of scenery can work wonders, and it's a well known fact that a hero needs to reflect inward to affirm their path, and discover a new way forward. That can be hard to do in familiar settings."
"You think I should wander the wasteland?"
"That might suit your heroic intentions, but the threats that wander it are unknown, and fighting for your life isn't suitable for self reflection." She paused, a frown crossing her face, before clenching her fists. "Might I suggest Nomanisan?"
"I'm not familiar with it."
"It's an old testing facility that Syndrome maintained. He kept it off the books to keep competitors from stealing his concepts, as well as for more sentimental reasons. Most of the equipment was cleared out ages ago, but there's only so much you can do about integrated infrastructure, and a company the size of Kronos can afford to leave a few odds and ends lying around. Older equipment, failed prototypes, that sort of thing. Who knows? You might find some useful equipment for yourself."
Hego frowned in consideration.
"Even if you don't, I think having a deserted island with no chance of civilian casualties or collateral damage can do wonders for a super needing to blow off some steam. Lifting weights can only get you so far."
"You have a point there!" He grinned, before offering her a brief hug. "Thanks for listening, I'll give it some thought."
"Glad to have helped." She smiled, waving as he bounded out of the room with renewed energy. Her frown returned the minute he had left the room. It was a dangerous gambit, far more likely to exacerbate the situation than showing a path forward but Hego was right. Things had to change, and doing so blindly was beyond foolish. If he was going to change the world, he had to see all sides of it. The glory of the golden age, the reasons behinds its end, and the plays for power people made in the shadows until the stars aligned in their favor. It was a complex web, one that could take a lifetime or more to sort out completely, but Nomanisan had some critical puzzle pieces that could make it much easier for the aspiring hero to find his path, if he was clever enough to understand them, and wise enough to put them to good use,
It was dangerous. Even worse, it was unpredictable. It could go wrong in a hundred different ways, it could push Hego over the edge, shattering his beliefs in a brighter future, or even making him accept a darkness than everyone with power had inside of them.
Still, if he could maintain his faith even after his sister did her best to crush it, then Mirage could extend a bit of her own. She had been given a second change by the good doctor, it was time to put it to good use.
- Location
- Germany
Tbf, nobody but Alan and *maybe* Mr. Litwak knows what is currently going on in cyberspace, so it isn´t like we actually let ourselves be "bested" by Beaks so that he´ll get slammed by what lurks there for a bit,
So Mark shooting himself in the foot by besting us isn´t really his own fault
BlueWerewolf25
The Dreamer
- Location
- Wouldn't You Like To Know?
- Pronouns
- He/His/Him
Lairs cost money right? I do not want to spend actual funds on LOVEMUFFIN of all people.
ReaperofInterest
Herald of Disaster
You are correct that lairs cost money, specifically they cost 1 Income per lair. That being said, we haven't had the opportunity to see what sort of benefits a lair provides yet, so it might be wise to see that before making a decision on whether or not to give Lovemuffin one.
Mattman324
you expected some anime, non-IRL giant robot, eh?
- Location
- Working in the basement on my giant robot.
Honestly, it's a shame he's 100% dead. Super strength is a dime a dozen, but Mr. Incredible (on top of being a good person) was a master of working smarter, and that's what made him the deadliest in a fight.
- Location
- Venezuela
Can anyone remind me how bought McFist Industries? I would like to know how is allied (probably) with the Sorcerer (as well as having knowledge of the Ninjanomicon. Don't worry Tobe, is going to be yours...eventually)
- Location
- California
Tragically, that option was taken out due to the qms not having watched Randy Cunningham
weredrago2
"Cowabunga, Shadow the Hedgehog..."
- Location
- Florida
No one. It was slotted out of the game because we never got around to doing a full viewing of the show, and I don't think we could reasonably squeeze the time on when we got other priorities. Sorry.
- Location
- Germany
Yeah, let´s just say that in-game it went under and got partitioned by other minor groups
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weredrago2
"Cowabunga, Shadow the Hedgehog..."
- Location
- Florida
Norissville and McFist are (to my knowledge) mostly self-contained, so you could say it's more or less as it was or was swallowed up in a sphere of ominous darkness without affecting the larger scheme of things but it is not likely to be addressed onscreen.
Interlude: Error 511
- Location
- Pennsylvania
Tron idled for a few dozen microcycles, allowing his subroutines to defragment.
And then he leapt back into hell.
Doofensmirtz's personal servers loomed over the landscape of DoofOS, an as-yet impregnable fortress halfway between the system's capital and its palace. Such terms were tangential at best to life on the Grid.
Tron plummeted past jagged purple battlements, aiming for a group of invaders harassing a set of Sprites taking cover in a server farm.
DoofOS had become a chaotic battlefield for millions of programs, most of whom weren't even on the same side. Worms and Trojans from malicious actors fought with domestic adware and viruses that were probably cooked up by some User in his basement. Resource Hogs battled Z-Lots for access as groups of perfectly legitimate Basics were attempting to push through the horde.
When the first refugees had shown up, Tron's User had not been surprised. ENCOM's systems were a micromanaged nightmare of task managers and Recognizers most sane programs wanted to get out of before they were derezzed or worse. As outlying DoofOS instances began to see recurring bugs and reports of missing programs, his User had tasked him with investigating what ENCOM was doing. That had led him to the 'Legacy' project.
Whatever 'Legacy' was, it was something big. Tron had informed his user of the small bits of data he could discern, but in recent months ENCOM's security had vastly improved over what it had been in the past. The Legacy OS was deadly, it was airtight, and it had… absolutely nothing to do with the troubles plaguing DoofOS.
The Cybugs had attacked when Tron was out of system. This had left the system Kernel to rally the remaining antivirus against the invasion, a task it had not been built for. The Cybugs had cut deep, and opportunists had leapt.
DoofOS was a system held together with a light baton and a prayer to the fickle Creators themselves. It was the single most chaotic system Tron had ever laid eyes upon- calling it 'unconventional' would be a vast understatement. Most normal systems had some cohesion to their architecture- substructures designed like the buildings Users were familiar with, data flowing in conventional directions, access points placed at convenient locations. DoofOS was a non-Euclidian knot of twisting spaghetti code, data streams branching off from seemingly random nodes and never ending up where you expected them to. A program that didn't know what they were doing could get turned around in the corridors and be lost for hundreds of microcycles.
Despite the apparent flaws in the system, Tron had to admit… it worked. He wasn't aware of what the Users were thinking when designing the place, but against all expectations everything meshed together perfectly. Programs booted on DoofOS hardware had an instinctive knowledge of how to use its byzantine twists and turns to great advantage. Even now the self-contradictory labyrinths of the city-state worked to the benefit of its defenders.
Unfortunately, the problem with a perfect clock no one could understand came when one had to wind it. Alan One had expressed considerable frustration at the code, apparently "breaking into tears" at one point if reports from some Basics were to be believed. The original Creators, despite having used the system for the past several months, rarely saw fit to continue its maintenance. Ceremonies to appease the intermittent and often capricious whims of the multitudinous Creators had become commonplace, though others held insistent and tenacious faith in the so-named Administrator above all who ruled from beyond. The Sprites, of course, generally mocked both such superstitions.
Finally, after a great many cycles and no small amount of frustration on his part, Alan One seemed to have enough of a grasp on the system's architecture to make some changes. Designing a brand new firewall that would work in conjunction with Tron's own security programming would finally give the defenders the fighting chance that they needed, at least until the Swarm departed for easier pickings. They only needed to last for a few more cycles, until a new firewall could be installed; by that time the Cybugs would realize that they would need to expend more energy than they would get from consuming the system down to its last byte.
Tron threw his Identity Disc moments before he landed, sending the razor-sharp wheel through one Bug's black carapace before rebounding off a wall and cleanly derezzing another. Snatching it from the air he charged into the center of the skirmish, using the Disc to block gnashing teeth and clawing limbs.
No one really knew what instance the Cybugs had come from, though once they had captured a few specimens it was not hard to determine how it must have happened. Some ambitious User had given their latest Sprites machine learning; taught them to learn new strategies and adapt to new objectives. Doubtless they had thought it would make a far more interesting End-User experience.
Things certainly did get interesting.
Tron shook off the moment of impiety and dispatched yet another pair of swarmlings. These had been lucky enough to consume a local, judging from the purple light spewing from their maws. The creatures grew, changed, assimilated and adapted to any new programming they came across. They were ravenous, unending, and reproduced themselves with incredible efficiency. They could grow back from a single missed egg of code. What had been meant as a challenging opponent had mutated into the most virulent virus Tron had ever faced.
Not even pausing to glance at the programs he had saved, Tron raced for the next report of Cybug infestation allied Light Tanks had flagged. Alan One had coded him to be a one-man army, compiled him to protect the original ENCOM mainframe from all threats internal and external. He had failed once, and did not intend to fail again.
---
There was a brief moment of respite as Tron compiled the data he had gathered from the battle and transmitted it to his User. He had carved through the hoard with brutal efficiency, wiping out every single instance of the virus, and he had still not made even the slightest dent in the Swarm as a whole. DoofOS had hundreds of thousands of instances, multiple entry points, and he was only one program- even as effective as he was, he could not stand up against the Cybugs forever. Every glitch a User experienced was a failure on his part. Every missing program a moment he had been too late.
>THE INFECTION IN THIS SECTOR HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED.
Tron sent a short string of code to his User in preparation for the next part of his mission. Neutralizing the infection was only a stopgap measure until Alan One had the firewall up and running. Once established, the series of countermeasures would place the system under quarantine, ensuring that no programs were allowed in or out for a portion of time. External Users would experience this as a period of 'maintenance downtime', giving security programs time to locate and purge remaining Cybugs and allowing for selective defenses the Cybugs could not brute force. This was an extreme measure but the best way to prevent further infection and ensure that every trace of the Cybug scourge was removed from DoofOS.
It would also require thousands of incoming refugee programs to find shelter elsewhere as all I/O Ports were shut down for at least a cycle, if not more.
Could the lives of a hundred thousand programs justify the loss of thousands more?
---
Alan Bradley took a sip of his coffee. The last two months had been among the most stressful he had ever endured, and that included the end of his career with ENCOM, when each passing day increased his fear of 'disappearing'. He would have liked to blame it solely on the horrific abomination that called itself a 'source code', but that was only half of his current dilemma.
DoofOS had experienced multiple cyberattacks over the last several months, and much to Alan's surprise, none of them had originated from ENCOM. It seemed that as the net aged, new and dangerous threats spawned from the chaos of the digital ocean and the twisted minds of console cowboys with nothing better to do than watch the system strain under the pressure. The worst had been the Cybugs, but the opening they had created had been exploited by many. The new firewall would hopefully put an end to that, and keep his employer from pulling the plug on far more than he realized.
Doctor Doofenshmirtz had been a decent enough employer, he supposed. Certainly far more understanding than Dillinger had ever been, although he had to question the man's taste in 'company retreats'. At least ENCOM had given him a few days in the tropics instead of shoving him in the middle of a land still terrified by the invention of the stirrup. Those awful days in the only country to have anti-recognition by the UN were made all the worse with the specter of DoofOS looming overhead.
The last sixteen hours of meticulously attacking a virtual machine with nearly every virus he could think of were starting to wear him down. As the final assault ended in failure, he breathed a sigh of relief. None of his subordinates had been able to crack it themselves, but he'd had to be sure. With a few keystrokes and clicks of a mouse the program he had spent hundreds of hours on sprung to life. He could almost imagine what it looked like in the Grid, protectively wrapping around the I/O nodes in an impenetrable wall of gentle blue light.
---
The Cybug swarm was unusually calm. Tron had expected more of a reaction after being cut off from their quarry, but this virus was nearly impossible to predict. Had it shifted to a more docile state to conserve energy? Were they preparing a final assault?
He shuddered. DoofOS's core mainframe was an island unto itself, a core network at the center of all its instances running across the country. The vast and desolate wastes of the Outland greeted him on the other side of the new firewall; bleak, desolate and craggy terrain made from the collective empty memory of systems the world over; eternally shifting, constant only in its inhospitality.
Tron allowed himself a brief moment of respite. The system was protected, for the moment, and unless the hoard returned with a renewed assault the firewall would be more than enough to isolate the system. This was a difficult decision, but ultimately-
"Help! Help!"
Tron turned his head, already dreading what he was about to see.
A collection of programs were swarming towards the firewall. Mostly Sprites, from the look of them, and a motley sort at that. If one in ten of them came from the same instance he'd finally try that new Energy drink the Pause Break was hawking.
"Please!" The lead program begged, clenching her hands together in desperation. "Let us in!"
"Who are you?" Tron asked, hoping against hope these programs were authorized and he could somehow justify pausing the system break.
"We're refugees, we just got here!" The diminutive Sprite replied, black ponytail bobbing as panic got the better of her. "Please! The Cybugs have been chasing us for days, there's no telling how soon they'll catch us!"
Tron tuned out the preliminary system reports flowing to him; they told him what he already knew. A single horde of Cybugs was approaching DoofOS. Not the overwhelming storm he had feared. But more than enough to devour a band of defenceless refugees long before the system break was complete.
Tron grimaced. For the first time in months, they had a chance to clean out the infestations that had been plaguing them, and to set up a new firewall that could actually protect them. If they took it down, it would take time to raise it again. The Cybugs heading for the walls could be dealt with. But there was no telling how many more might be waiting outside range of detection.
For the system, for the Users, the choice was clear. Nothing could be allowed to endanger the OS.
"Please!"
Tron clenched his hands.
"Hold here. I'll be back."
---
Tron's lightcycle screeched to a halt in front of the mainframe's central I/O tower. He pushed through the doors, barely pausing to present security credentials to the System Monitors before racing for the central throne.
"<Knight Commander.>" The Princess said, looking away from administrative matters. "<I did not expect your presence at this hou->"
"I'm sorry there's no time!" Tron yelled, forcing Princess Java to halt as she processed novel stimuli. "I need an emergency communication with User:Alan_1!"
The tower's central beam changed from red to blue as the transmission began. The Users would know what to do, Tron thought. They always did.
---
Alan snapped out of the daze he had fallen into monitoring the firewall's integrity at the sound of a priority alert. Not a good sign. Steeling himself, he glanced down at the message sent directly to his own phone, passed through 3-factor authentication.
More details would be provided on request, but the initial message was as terse as always.
> An unverified program is asking to make changes to your computer. Do you wish to run? Y/N
[ ] Press "Y"
[ ] Press "N"
There will be a twelve hour moratorium on voting.
And then he leapt back into hell.
Doofensmirtz's personal servers loomed over the landscape of DoofOS, an as-yet impregnable fortress halfway between the system's capital and its palace. Such terms were tangential at best to life on the Grid.
Tron plummeted past jagged purple battlements, aiming for a group of invaders harassing a set of Sprites taking cover in a server farm.
DoofOS had become a chaotic battlefield for millions of programs, most of whom weren't even on the same side. Worms and Trojans from malicious actors fought with domestic adware and viruses that were probably cooked up by some User in his basement. Resource Hogs battled Z-Lots for access as groups of perfectly legitimate Basics were attempting to push through the horde.
When the first refugees had shown up, Tron's User had not been surprised. ENCOM's systems were a micromanaged nightmare of task managers and Recognizers most sane programs wanted to get out of before they were derezzed or worse. As outlying DoofOS instances began to see recurring bugs and reports of missing programs, his User had tasked him with investigating what ENCOM was doing. That had led him to the 'Legacy' project.
Whatever 'Legacy' was, it was something big. Tron had informed his user of the small bits of data he could discern, but in recent months ENCOM's security had vastly improved over what it had been in the past. The Legacy OS was deadly, it was airtight, and it had… absolutely nothing to do with the troubles plaguing DoofOS.
The Cybugs had attacked when Tron was out of system. This had left the system Kernel to rally the remaining antivirus against the invasion, a task it had not been built for. The Cybugs had cut deep, and opportunists had leapt.
DoofOS was a system held together with a light baton and a prayer to the fickle Creators themselves. It was the single most chaotic system Tron had ever laid eyes upon- calling it 'unconventional' would be a vast understatement. Most normal systems had some cohesion to their architecture- substructures designed like the buildings Users were familiar with, data flowing in conventional directions, access points placed at convenient locations. DoofOS was a non-Euclidian knot of twisting spaghetti code, data streams branching off from seemingly random nodes and never ending up where you expected them to. A program that didn't know what they were doing could get turned around in the corridors and be lost for hundreds of microcycles.
Despite the apparent flaws in the system, Tron had to admit… it worked. He wasn't aware of what the Users were thinking when designing the place, but against all expectations everything meshed together perfectly. Programs booted on DoofOS hardware had an instinctive knowledge of how to use its byzantine twists and turns to great advantage. Even now the self-contradictory labyrinths of the city-state worked to the benefit of its defenders.
Unfortunately, the problem with a perfect clock no one could understand came when one had to wind it. Alan One had expressed considerable frustration at the code, apparently "breaking into tears" at one point if reports from some Basics were to be believed. The original Creators, despite having used the system for the past several months, rarely saw fit to continue its maintenance. Ceremonies to appease the intermittent and often capricious whims of the multitudinous Creators had become commonplace, though others held insistent and tenacious faith in the so-named Administrator above all who ruled from beyond. The Sprites, of course, generally mocked both such superstitions.
Finally, after a great many cycles and no small amount of frustration on his part, Alan One seemed to have enough of a grasp on the system's architecture to make some changes. Designing a brand new firewall that would work in conjunction with Tron's own security programming would finally give the defenders the fighting chance that they needed, at least until the Swarm departed for easier pickings. They only needed to last for a few more cycles, until a new firewall could be installed; by that time the Cybugs would realize that they would need to expend more energy than they would get from consuming the system down to its last byte.
Tron threw his Identity Disc moments before he landed, sending the razor-sharp wheel through one Bug's black carapace before rebounding off a wall and cleanly derezzing another. Snatching it from the air he charged into the center of the skirmish, using the Disc to block gnashing teeth and clawing limbs.
No one really knew what instance the Cybugs had come from, though once they had captured a few specimens it was not hard to determine how it must have happened. Some ambitious User had given their latest Sprites machine learning; taught them to learn new strategies and adapt to new objectives. Doubtless they had thought it would make a far more interesting End-User experience.
Things certainly did get interesting.
Tron shook off the moment of impiety and dispatched yet another pair of swarmlings. These had been lucky enough to consume a local, judging from the purple light spewing from their maws. The creatures grew, changed, assimilated and adapted to any new programming they came across. They were ravenous, unending, and reproduced themselves with incredible efficiency. They could grow back from a single missed egg of code. What had been meant as a challenging opponent had mutated into the most virulent virus Tron had ever faced.
Not even pausing to glance at the programs he had saved, Tron raced for the next report of Cybug infestation allied Light Tanks had flagged. Alan One had coded him to be a one-man army, compiled him to protect the original ENCOM mainframe from all threats internal and external. He had failed once, and did not intend to fail again.
---
There was a brief moment of respite as Tron compiled the data he had gathered from the battle and transmitted it to his User. He had carved through the hoard with brutal efficiency, wiping out every single instance of the virus, and he had still not made even the slightest dent in the Swarm as a whole. DoofOS had hundreds of thousands of instances, multiple entry points, and he was only one program- even as effective as he was, he could not stand up against the Cybugs forever. Every glitch a User experienced was a failure on his part. Every missing program a moment he had been too late.
>THE INFECTION IN THIS SECTOR HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED.
Tron sent a short string of code to his User in preparation for the next part of his mission. Neutralizing the infection was only a stopgap measure until Alan One had the firewall up and running. Once established, the series of countermeasures would place the system under quarantine, ensuring that no programs were allowed in or out for a portion of time. External Users would experience this as a period of 'maintenance downtime', giving security programs time to locate and purge remaining Cybugs and allowing for selective defenses the Cybugs could not brute force. This was an extreme measure but the best way to prevent further infection and ensure that every trace of the Cybug scourge was removed from DoofOS.
It would also require thousands of incoming refugee programs to find shelter elsewhere as all I/O Ports were shut down for at least a cycle, if not more.
Could the lives of a hundred thousand programs justify the loss of thousands more?
---
Alan Bradley took a sip of his coffee. The last two months had been among the most stressful he had ever endured, and that included the end of his career with ENCOM, when each passing day increased his fear of 'disappearing'. He would have liked to blame it solely on the horrific abomination that called itself a 'source code', but that was only half of his current dilemma.
DoofOS had experienced multiple cyberattacks over the last several months, and much to Alan's surprise, none of them had originated from ENCOM. It seemed that as the net aged, new and dangerous threats spawned from the chaos of the digital ocean and the twisted minds of console cowboys with nothing better to do than watch the system strain under the pressure. The worst had been the Cybugs, but the opening they had created had been exploited by many. The new firewall would hopefully put an end to that, and keep his employer from pulling the plug on far more than he realized.
Doctor Doofenshmirtz had been a decent enough employer, he supposed. Certainly far more understanding than Dillinger had ever been, although he had to question the man's taste in 'company retreats'. At least ENCOM had given him a few days in the tropics instead of shoving him in the middle of a land still terrified by the invention of the stirrup. Those awful days in the only country to have anti-recognition by the UN were made all the worse with the specter of DoofOS looming overhead.
The last sixteen hours of meticulously attacking a virtual machine with nearly every virus he could think of were starting to wear him down. As the final assault ended in failure, he breathed a sigh of relief. None of his subordinates had been able to crack it themselves, but he'd had to be sure. With a few keystrokes and clicks of a mouse the program he had spent hundreds of hours on sprung to life. He could almost imagine what it looked like in the Grid, protectively wrapping around the I/O nodes in an impenetrable wall of gentle blue light.
---
The Cybug swarm was unusually calm. Tron had expected more of a reaction after being cut off from their quarry, but this virus was nearly impossible to predict. Had it shifted to a more docile state to conserve energy? Were they preparing a final assault?
He shuddered. DoofOS's core mainframe was an island unto itself, a core network at the center of all its instances running across the country. The vast and desolate wastes of the Outland greeted him on the other side of the new firewall; bleak, desolate and craggy terrain made from the collective empty memory of systems the world over; eternally shifting, constant only in its inhospitality.
Tron allowed himself a brief moment of respite. The system was protected, for the moment, and unless the hoard returned with a renewed assault the firewall would be more than enough to isolate the system. This was a difficult decision, but ultimately-
"Help! Help!"
Tron turned his head, already dreading what he was about to see.
A collection of programs were swarming towards the firewall. Mostly Sprites, from the look of them, and a motley sort at that. If one in ten of them came from the same instance he'd finally try that new Energy drink the Pause Break was hawking.
"Please!" The lead program begged, clenching her hands together in desperation. "Let us in!"
"Who are you?" Tron asked, hoping against hope these programs were authorized and he could somehow justify pausing the system break.
"We're refugees, we just got here!" The diminutive Sprite replied, black ponytail bobbing as panic got the better of her. "Please! The Cybugs have been chasing us for days, there's no telling how soon they'll catch us!"
Tron tuned out the preliminary system reports flowing to him; they told him what he already knew. A single horde of Cybugs was approaching DoofOS. Not the overwhelming storm he had feared. But more than enough to devour a band of defenceless refugees long before the system break was complete.
Tron grimaced. For the first time in months, they had a chance to clean out the infestations that had been plaguing them, and to set up a new firewall that could actually protect them. If they took it down, it would take time to raise it again. The Cybugs heading for the walls could be dealt with. But there was no telling how many more might be waiting outside range of detection.
For the system, for the Users, the choice was clear. Nothing could be allowed to endanger the OS.
"Please!"
Tron clenched his hands.
"Hold here. I'll be back."
---
Tron's lightcycle screeched to a halt in front of the mainframe's central I/O tower. He pushed through the doors, barely pausing to present security credentials to the System Monitors before racing for the central throne.
"<Knight Commander.>" The Princess said, looking away from administrative matters. "<I did not expect your presence at this hou->"
"I'm sorry there's no time!" Tron yelled, forcing Princess Java to halt as she processed novel stimuli. "I need an emergency communication with User:Alan_1!"
The tower's central beam changed from red to blue as the transmission began. The Users would know what to do, Tron thought. They always did.
---
Alan snapped out of the daze he had fallen into monitoring the firewall's integrity at the sound of a priority alert. Not a good sign. Steeling himself, he glanced down at the message sent directly to his own phone, passed through 3-factor authentication.
More details would be provided on request, but the initial message was as terse as always.
> An unverified program is asking to make changes to your computer. Do you wish to run? Y/N
[ ] Press "Y"
[ ] Press "N"
There will be a twelve hour moratorium on voting.
- Location
- Somewhere.
What can we possibly pick but Yes to this?
Quest
The Great One
- Location
- Everywhere
We can also pick No.