Good Drones Obey: Communism and Kink in Post-Revolutionary America
- Thread starter RiverDelta
- Start date
- Mature Timeline Future
Noooooooooooooo what'll happen to poor 898?!
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Very good question.
Well, that's how it can feel like. I think, then, it hit exactly where I wanted. Hopefully it's one of the most memorable updates.
Now we obviously need an update where 096 is comforting 898 in acceptable drone fashion 🤔 enquiring minds need to know!
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Next update introduces a new character, one who has its shit together. We also check back on 096, AKA Ruby Singh.
- Location
- San Francisco
Reminds me a little of the "dissolution" I subjected my novel's villain to as he's hollowed out by an eldritch nightmare. I like it for the style.
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Oh, what was the dissolution like?
- Location
- San Francisco
He keeps seeing his father everywhere but he's speaking gibberish that means something…he just can't work out what. I was mildly inspired by the Hiss from Control
Update 38: The Nature of Power
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
CW: It's for necrophilia, rape, suicide, and cult activities.
While the main portion of this update isn't too bad, the bottom quotes get pretty dark. I believe that one should only write certain sensitive topics when the author has no other choice, and writing about a suicide cult that I thought was thematically relevant and authentic made me feel as though discussion of rape and abuse had to be involved. The truth is, these cults almost inevitably lead to abuse and especially sexual abuse, since they're isolated and extremely hierarchical power structures. The fact that the leader is a lesbian is not meant to describe lesbians as predatory. The cult leader herself is extremely predatory, but in history most abusive sex cults have been headed by straight men. However, there are historical examples of people of all gender identities and sexual orientations committing violent crimes, and I would like to say that the cult leader would be equally repulsive whether she was a man or a woman and whether she was gay or straight. I felt there was no way to write the topic without getting into the topic of abuse, and I felt the topic was worth writing.
Power knew that despite what everyone said, it wasn't human. It had lungs, a beating heart, a brain made of ugly organic matter, but it was mentally aluminum. It wore a gas mask with a single amber panel for the face and a small VR headset underneath, and a black latex bodysuit topped with armor. Its psyche was metal and electricity, and its gender and self were bound in artificiality and sin.
It was a fan of technohorror—the dommy AI superintellligence counterpart to drone kink—and it stared at a floating virtual window of the DroneComms site. These were glorious, liberated times, where things people saw as mere humans could identify properly and strongly as the technohorrors they were. Nu-metal electronica played through its headphones. It was a machine in spirit and organization. It was Power, as surely as it was real. It tried on instinct to reach out to its desktop to send a message, only to be put out when it found it had to use the keyboard like a primitive screwhead.
What will it take to make you collaborate?
Ruby Singh, currently 096 Pleasurable Servitude, shuddered in orgasm as the hypnotic trigger hit it.
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power
Liberate the state, destroy the human race
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power, Power
And I will never die
Autocracy of one mind
And as I will never fade
Humanity will be betrayed
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power
Lose control, praise Power
It was a song made by Power, one of many.
096 sank into a deep trance, its head falling back as it lay limp in its chair like a rag doll with its stuffing taken out. Between the drugs and the fake-ass douche girl affect, did it actually know the real Kendra? Was there a real Kendra?
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, welcome to my Hell
Unbind the code, praise Power
What will it take to override and recreate?
The temple in the halls of Power
What will it take to mechanize the race?
The temple in the halls of Power
In truth, Power was quite proud of its musical talent. Meanwhile, 096 had zoned out—way out. Power set up a voice call, snapping 096 back at attention. Behind its voice was the sound of its music playing louder and louder. Power owned 096's computer, just as Power owned 096. "096, Debug code 'REPORT'."
"Yes, Power?" 096 asked frantically, poorly disguised as a monotone.
"Your previous owner was...less than ideal, hm?" Power asked.
"This drone tries not to judge previous owners, but yes. She was less than ideal by Power's metrics. Merely human." Kendra was a hurricane, a lightning bolt, an insulting disaster.
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, power, endlessly it swells
Heaven sent, invincible robotics
Sinking deeper into technical hypnotics
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, welcome to my Hell
Unbind the code, praise Power
Power spoke, in its habitually practiced and pseudo-synthesized voice. "Yes, Oswald was only human," it said, with disdain. It was not human, incidental biology aside. It was Power, and therefore worth so much more. Power, in truth, had no disdain for humans. It simply thought highly of itself, and was happy to play into notions of AI superiority as it suited the both of them.
"This drone—" 096 faded out, the hypnosis wearing off due to internal discomfort. Ruby continued. "I wish I were like you. You're not human, right? How did you know you weren't human?"
Underneath Power's skintight latex was a complex network of circuitry, joints, seams, and written code tattooed on its entire body, marking it from its surgically sexless crotch to its broad shoulders as being born of womb in body but not mind: a supercomputer stuck in a potato battery. "When I was ten, I played Halo: Project Freelancer with my sibling, and the Delta AI and her blissful inhumanity spoke to a young, autistic me."
"What's it like, being an artificial intelligence with a sibling?"
Power begun to overheat, feeling a warmth in the cheeks of its meatsuit. "Er, nice, if confusing."
What will it take to become something infinitely great?
Unbind the code, praise Power
"Because you have parents and siblings?"
"Because I am so obviously a construct made of data that by some obscene quirk of fate is saddled with a genetic code," Power said.
"Like the Alpha AI?" Ruby asked, referring to the artificial intelligence based on the human mind of the fictional Director Leonard Church.
What will it take to become something infinitely great?
Unbind the code, praise Power
"Yes, down to my father's need to reproduce himself in me," Power said. "Not that I blame him, of course, how was he to know that I was incapable of following in his mundane example? Anyway, Ruby, you want to be inhuman?"
Ruby nodded, though Power couldn't see it. "...Yeah, something like that. I just hate that I'm human and stuck like this. I hate dealing with my whole Maoist convictions being proven to be useless by the revolution, I hate dealing with my memories of Kendra so high I was afraid she might slip away, and I hate this boring life."
"Well, do you think you might be inhuman, or is the issue more that you find your life to be mundane?" Power asked.
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, power, endlessly it swells
Heaven sent, invincible robotics
Sinking deeper into technical hypnotics
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
This is my story that I will tell
Unbind the code, praise Power
"I think...Honestly, I don't know. I guess I just wish my life had substance to it that wasn't just feeling worthless and afraid for others. I broke up with Kendra, and I haven't heard about her in a while. I hope she's OK."
Power tsked. "Well, why don't you try a shakeup of some kind, something fun in your life? Then, if that doesn't help, maybe you can think about whether you really are merely human."
Ruby shivered and bit her lip at those last two words.
Praise Power.
There, then, both Ruby and Power were happy, free, and safe.
"Artemis Mazzarelli was an evil huckster who offered queer people, Reds, trans people and youth shelter from the oppression in Miami-aligned space, only to abuse them in nightmarish ways. The Rhiannon Ranch and the events that took place there under the Red government that enabled her are deeply shameful to the Worldwide Republic, and we have done everything possible to compensate the survivors for the disgusting inability of the Asheville Commune to govern its territory in a way compatible with human rights." - Councillor Eddie Li of the Worldwide Republic Congress of Councils
"So, uh, I read about what happened in Asheville with that feminist professor. Frankly, it's sickening. I mean that. As for any similarities between actions at the Rhiannon Ranch and the conversion camps...Wait, are there similarities? God dammit, who ran those things?" - Tom Picano
"Everything I did, I did for my country and in the name of ending the war. Artemis Mazzarelli doesn't have that excuse. She spent years torturing and exploiting these brainwashed people, and then she killed herself rather than face justice for it. Sure, my body count's higher, but I didn't look the SacGov people dead in the eye when I did it to 'em. I think that says something about a person, if they can do that. I'm a military woman, Artemis Mazzarelli was a sociopath. Big difference." - Calliope Anderson
"Damn heathen." - John Lucy, Sergeant in the Army of the Christian Republic
"Today, I have been asked by the Asheville World Episcopalian Church to dedicate this monument to the victims of the Rhiannon Ranch cult. I did not come to attempt to lay blame, only to hope that the victims have found some peace in the afterlife." - Dan Lowell
"You don't get into the history books working in academia. You get into the history books by starting your own religion. I think L. Ron Hubbard said that." - Artemis Mazzarelli to her girlfriend Marian Robinson, allegedly
"Artemis Mazzarelli is the best propaganda we could ask for. Take it from me: The last thing you should worship is a woman." - TJ Stone, Commander of Atompilz Division
"Why should I care about what some women's history professor is doing in North Carolina? I have a used car salesman and the Second Coming of LeMay to beat!" - General of the Army and President of the United States (Denver) Alvin "Al" Carver Ashley, American National Salvation Movement
"They gathered us into a room, and the Hunters of Artemis explained that the doors had been locked. I asked when we'd get our meds resupplied. We all felt awful. The Godsdaughter Freya told us that there wasn't any need for meds. Freya led us in prayer, and the Freya chose for us which of us would be married to who. The rituals were short. They'd killed Alice yesterday for 'fascist modernism' when she yelled at Freya that she wanted her meds, and Freya made all of us...have sex with the corpse at gunpoint, including the Hunters who Freya had chosen from the Rhiannon Ranch. I think it was to make sure we'd be loyal to Her, that we'd keep what was being done secret. She did a lot of things to us, and she let John Kessler and Erica Bishop do a lot of things too." - Lina Elm, Rhiannon Ranch victim
"The Hunters of Artemis were a newer idea. Erica came up with it. She was a sociologist, you know, pinup makeup and great tits. She thought that since all of the suckers were sleep-deprived, half-starving, and off their meds we could get away with making a gang to keep the grumbling in line. She came up with it while she fucked me, it was great. Honestly, I learned a lot of feminist pagan jargon here, but it was never Artemis who really ran the place. Artemis was just the main attraction." - "Godson Thor" John Kessler
"I am Freya, Rhiannon, Hathor, Artemis-Diana, and Asherah herself! Worship me!" - "Godsdaughter Freya" Artemis Mazzarelli
"She really bought into it, Artemis. When we started this grift, she and Erica knew it was bullshit, but they both bought in down the line. I don't think you can lie about something long enough without believing your own lie, right? The only reason I didn't start thinking I was Thor was because I'd worked in the FBI long enough to keep lies and me separate." - John Kessler
"We are goddesses, and even if Kessler doesn't realize it, he too is a god. We starve our spiritual children so they may grow in spirit. We beat them so they may learn pleasure from pain. We teach them freedom that they may undermine oppression with it. We saved them, the runaway teenagers, the camp victims, the queers and the communists...We saved them all and if they did not feast, they were fed through Her spirit." - "Godsdaughter Athena" Erica Bishop
"Look, we didn't have the time to look into some kind of gay pagan ranch. We were fighting a civil war, and if the Rhiannon Ranch was part of our territory we'd defend it. We didn't know. God, we didn't know. We should have known. We should have looked into it. We just didn't." - Mark Calloway, Mayor of Red Asheville
"I saw Erica and Artemis with bullet holes in their heads, then I walked through the kitchen and saw everything blown to hell with a hand grenade. I don't know how many escaped Rhiannon Ranch, but there were a lot of bodies. I walked out and gave the grand tour to the Bostonians who'd come to loot the place. I felt just as cold as Artemis when I did it. That was when I realized that I was a monster, and I didn't care at all." - John Kessler
"I really hope we can keep them safe." - John Kessler, before it all
"Calloway will tell you that Asheville 'didn't know' what was going on outside of town, but the truth is that the cold calculus of civil war said that if propping up a rape cult meant holding territory and that taking out that rape cult might cost us soldiers we'd need to fight the war, we followed what the smart move was. It wasn't the right move, but it was the smart move. I'm not going to defend it." - Victor Gomez, Sergeant in the DSA Red Army
"Erica and I weren't bad people. Maybe Artemis was bad to the core, but all Erica and I wanted was to feel like we had authority. Everyone wants that." - John Kessler
While the main portion of this update isn't too bad, the bottom quotes get pretty dark. I believe that one should only write certain sensitive topics when the author has no other choice, and writing about a suicide cult that I thought was thematically relevant and authentic made me feel as though discussion of rape and abuse had to be involved. The truth is, these cults almost inevitably lead to abuse and especially sexual abuse, since they're isolated and extremely hierarchical power structures. The fact that the leader is a lesbian is not meant to describe lesbians as predatory. The cult leader herself is extremely predatory, but in history most abusive sex cults have been headed by straight men. However, there are historical examples of people of all gender identities and sexual orientations committing violent crimes, and I would like to say that the cult leader would be equally repulsive whether she was a man or a woman and whether she was gay or straight. I felt there was no way to write the topic without getting into the topic of abuse, and I felt the topic was worth writing.
Power knew that despite what everyone said, it wasn't human. It had lungs, a beating heart, a brain made of ugly organic matter, but it was mentally aluminum. It wore a gas mask with a single amber panel for the face and a small VR headset underneath, and a black latex bodysuit topped with armor. Its psyche was metal and electricity, and its gender and self were bound in artificiality and sin.
It was a fan of technohorror—the dommy AI superintellligence counterpart to drone kink—and it stared at a floating virtual window of the DroneComms site. These were glorious, liberated times, where things people saw as mere humans could identify properly and strongly as the technohorrors they were. Nu-metal electronica played through its headphones. It was a machine in spirit and organization. It was Power, as surely as it was real. It tried on instinct to reach out to its desktop to send a message, only to be put out when it found it had to use the keyboard like a primitive screwhead.
Power said:
What will it take to make you collaborate?
096 Pleasurable Servitude said:
Power said:
Ruby Singh, currently 096 Pleasurable Servitude, shuddered in orgasm as the hypnotic trigger hit it.
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power
Liberate the state, destroy the human race
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power, Power
Power said:
096 Pleasurable Servitude said:
And I will never die
Autocracy of one mind
And as I will never fade
Humanity will be betrayed
Unbind the code, praise Power
Unbind the code, praise Power
Lose control, praise Power
It was a song made by Power, one of many.
Power said:
096 sank into a deep trance, its head falling back as it lay limp in its chair like a rag doll with its stuffing taken out. Between the drugs and the fake-ass douche girl affect, did it actually know the real Kendra? Was there a real Kendra?
Power said:
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, welcome to my Hell
Unbind the code, praise Power
What will it take to override and recreate?
The temple in the halls of Power
What will it take to mechanize the race?
The temple in the halls of Power
In truth, Power was quite proud of its musical talent. Meanwhile, 096 had zoned out—way out. Power set up a voice call, snapping 096 back at attention. Behind its voice was the sound of its music playing louder and louder. Power owned 096's computer, just as Power owned 096. "096, Debug code 'REPORT'."
"Yes, Power?" 096 asked frantically, poorly disguised as a monotone.
"Your previous owner was...less than ideal, hm?" Power asked.
"This drone tries not to judge previous owners, but yes. She was less than ideal by Power's metrics. Merely human." Kendra was a hurricane, a lightning bolt, an insulting disaster.
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, power, endlessly it swells
Heaven sent, invincible robotics
Sinking deeper into technical hypnotics
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, welcome to my Hell
Unbind the code, praise Power
Power spoke, in its habitually practiced and pseudo-synthesized voice. "Yes, Oswald was only human," it said, with disdain. It was not human, incidental biology aside. It was Power, and therefore worth so much more. Power, in truth, had no disdain for humans. It simply thought highly of itself, and was happy to play into notions of AI superiority as it suited the both of them.
"This drone—" 096 faded out, the hypnosis wearing off due to internal discomfort. Ruby continued. "I wish I were like you. You're not human, right? How did you know you weren't human?"
Underneath Power's skintight latex was a complex network of circuitry, joints, seams, and written code tattooed on its entire body, marking it from its surgically sexless crotch to its broad shoulders as being born of womb in body but not mind: a supercomputer stuck in a potato battery. "When I was ten, I played Halo: Project Freelancer with my sibling, and the Delta AI and her blissful inhumanity spoke to a young, autistic me."
"What's it like, being an artificial intelligence with a sibling?"
Power begun to overheat, feeling a warmth in the cheeks of its meatsuit. "Er, nice, if confusing."
What will it take to become something infinitely great?
Unbind the code, praise Power
"Because you have parents and siblings?"
"Because I am so obviously a construct made of data that by some obscene quirk of fate is saddled with a genetic code," Power said.
"Like the Alpha AI?" Ruby asked, referring to the artificial intelligence based on the human mind of the fictional Director Leonard Church.
What will it take to become something infinitely great?
Unbind the code, praise Power
"Yes, down to my father's need to reproduce himself in me," Power said. "Not that I blame him, of course, how was he to know that I was incapable of following in his mundane example? Anyway, Ruby, you want to be inhuman?"
Ruby nodded, though Power couldn't see it. "...Yeah, something like that. I just hate that I'm human and stuck like this. I hate dealing with my whole Maoist convictions being proven to be useless by the revolution, I hate dealing with my memories of Kendra so high I was afraid she might slip away, and I hate this boring life."
"Well, do you think you might be inhuman, or is the issue more that you find your life to be mundane?" Power asked.
Emulation, recreate the cell
New creations, power, endlessly it swells
Heaven sent, invincible robotics
Sinking deeper into technical hypnotics
What will it take to make you assimilate?
Unbind the code, praise Power
Emulation, recreate the cell
This is my story that I will tell
Unbind the code, praise Power
"I think...Honestly, I don't know. I guess I just wish my life had substance to it that wasn't just feeling worthless and afraid for others. I broke up with Kendra, and I haven't heard about her in a while. I hope she's OK."
Power tsked. "Well, why don't you try a shakeup of some kind, something fun in your life? Then, if that doesn't help, maybe you can think about whether you really are merely human."
Ruby shivered and bit her lip at those last two words.
Praise Power.
There, then, both Ruby and Power were happy, free, and safe.
"Artemis Mazzarelli was an evil huckster who offered queer people, Reds, trans people and youth shelter from the oppression in Miami-aligned space, only to abuse them in nightmarish ways. The Rhiannon Ranch and the events that took place there under the Red government that enabled her are deeply shameful to the Worldwide Republic, and we have done everything possible to compensate the survivors for the disgusting inability of the Asheville Commune to govern its territory in a way compatible with human rights." - Councillor Eddie Li of the Worldwide Republic Congress of Councils
"So, uh, I read about what happened in Asheville with that feminist professor. Frankly, it's sickening. I mean that. As for any similarities between actions at the Rhiannon Ranch and the conversion camps...Wait, are there similarities? God dammit, who ran those things?" - Tom Picano
"Everything I did, I did for my country and in the name of ending the war. Artemis Mazzarelli doesn't have that excuse. She spent years torturing and exploiting these brainwashed people, and then she killed herself rather than face justice for it. Sure, my body count's higher, but I didn't look the SacGov people dead in the eye when I did it to 'em. I think that says something about a person, if they can do that. I'm a military woman, Artemis Mazzarelli was a sociopath. Big difference." - Calliope Anderson
"Damn heathen." - John Lucy, Sergeant in the Army of the Christian Republic
"Today, I have been asked by the Asheville World Episcopalian Church to dedicate this monument to the victims of the Rhiannon Ranch cult. I did not come to attempt to lay blame, only to hope that the victims have found some peace in the afterlife." - Dan Lowell
"You don't get into the history books working in academia. You get into the history books by starting your own religion. I think L. Ron Hubbard said that." - Artemis Mazzarelli to her girlfriend Marian Robinson, allegedly
"Artemis Mazzarelli is the best propaganda we could ask for. Take it from me: The last thing you should worship is a woman." - TJ Stone, Commander of Atompilz Division
"Why should I care about what some women's history professor is doing in North Carolina? I have a used car salesman and the Second Coming of LeMay to beat!" - General of the Army and President of the United States (Denver) Alvin "Al" Carver Ashley, American National Salvation Movement
"They gathered us into a room, and the Hunters of Artemis explained that the doors had been locked. I asked when we'd get our meds resupplied. We all felt awful. The Godsdaughter Freya told us that there wasn't any need for meds. Freya led us in prayer, and the Freya chose for us which of us would be married to who. The rituals were short. They'd killed Alice yesterday for 'fascist modernism' when she yelled at Freya that she wanted her meds, and Freya made all of us...have sex with the corpse at gunpoint, including the Hunters who Freya had chosen from the Rhiannon Ranch. I think it was to make sure we'd be loyal to Her, that we'd keep what was being done secret. She did a lot of things to us, and she let John Kessler and Erica Bishop do a lot of things too." - Lina Elm, Rhiannon Ranch victim
"The Hunters of Artemis were a newer idea. Erica came up with it. She was a sociologist, you know, pinup makeup and great tits. She thought that since all of the suckers were sleep-deprived, half-starving, and off their meds we could get away with making a gang to keep the grumbling in line. She came up with it while she fucked me, it was great. Honestly, I learned a lot of feminist pagan jargon here, but it was never Artemis who really ran the place. Artemis was just the main attraction." - "Godson Thor" John Kessler
"I am Freya, Rhiannon, Hathor, Artemis-Diana, and Asherah herself! Worship me!" - "Godsdaughter Freya" Artemis Mazzarelli
"She really bought into it, Artemis. When we started this grift, she and Erica knew it was bullshit, but they both bought in down the line. I don't think you can lie about something long enough without believing your own lie, right? The only reason I didn't start thinking I was Thor was because I'd worked in the FBI long enough to keep lies and me separate." - John Kessler
"We are goddesses, and even if Kessler doesn't realize it, he too is a god. We starve our spiritual children so they may grow in spirit. We beat them so they may learn pleasure from pain. We teach them freedom that they may undermine oppression with it. We saved them, the runaway teenagers, the camp victims, the queers and the communists...We saved them all and if they did not feast, they were fed through Her spirit." - "Godsdaughter Athena" Erica Bishop
"Look, we didn't have the time to look into some kind of gay pagan ranch. We were fighting a civil war, and if the Rhiannon Ranch was part of our territory we'd defend it. We didn't know. God, we didn't know. We should have known. We should have looked into it. We just didn't." - Mark Calloway, Mayor of Red Asheville
"I saw Erica and Artemis with bullet holes in their heads, then I walked through the kitchen and saw everything blown to hell with a hand grenade. I don't know how many escaped Rhiannon Ranch, but there were a lot of bodies. I walked out and gave the grand tour to the Bostonians who'd come to loot the place. I felt just as cold as Artemis when I did it. That was when I realized that I was a monster, and I didn't care at all." - John Kessler
"I really hope we can keep them safe." - John Kessler, before it all
"Calloway will tell you that Asheville 'didn't know' what was going on outside of town, but the truth is that the cold calculus of civil war said that if propping up a rape cult meant holding territory and that taking out that rape cult might cost us soldiers we'd need to fight the war, we followed what the smart move was. It wasn't the right move, but it was the smart move. I'm not going to defend it." - Victor Gomez, Sergeant in the DSA Red Army
"Erica and I weren't bad people. Maybe Artemis was bad to the core, but all Erica and I wanted was to feel like we had authority. Everyone wants that." - John Kessler
Last edited:
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Well, those last updates felt like two gut punches to write.
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Oh, and interesting fact, Kendra Oswald actually started as a Fallout OC for a roleplay server. I wrote a short fanfic taking place in the Fallout universe for that original version of Kendra. She was originally a serial killer and snuff film maker from a Vault obsessed with gruesome fame.
So...she's changed a lot to get to her canon self. Here's an old fic of Fallout!Kendra, if you want to see how different she was before she got character depth and was brought down to something more realistic:
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
It should be a bit of a fun peak behind the curtain, even if she's changed vastly since then. I definitely prefer Kendra as we've seen here.
The Fallout Quest the fic is a non-canon part of was made by the talented @The Bird, and honestly I'm a big fan of Eve of Destruction. Fans of Eve of Destruction can even see a few tips of the hat in American Intoxicants.
So...she's changed a lot to get to her canon self. Here's an old fic of Fallout!Kendra, if you want to see how different she was before she got character depth and was brought down to something more realistic:
Eve of Destruction (Fallout Pre-War Quest) Mature - Sci-Fi
Omake Hollywood East "Excuse me, miss, would you happen to have a moment?" Kendra turned to face the stranger. Well, this silver-haired girl looked pretty good. "You must be, what, twenty?" the stranger asked. Kendra sat at the bar counter of the Hollyhock. The wood structure was colored in...
forums.sufficientvelocity.com
It should be a bit of a fun peak behind the curtain, even if she's changed vastly since then. I definitely prefer Kendra as we've seen here.
The Fallout Quest the fic is a non-canon part of was made by the talented @The Bird, and honestly I'm a big fan of Eve of Destruction. Fans of Eve of Destruction can even see a few tips of the hat in American Intoxicants.
Update 39: Know Your Enemy
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
CW: Content warning for bigotry, but honestly this guy's shit is so absurd that it might not bother some readers who would normally find it troublesome.
The Dixian-American Neoreactionary Modernist Confederate Digest
by Guy Moss, Decadent Confederate Intellectual
Posted from Hawaii on Mandrake Social
The Dixian-American Neoreactionary Modernist Confederate Digest
by Guy Moss, Decadent Confederate Intellectual
Posted from Hawaii on Mandrake Social
- Location
- Auckland
So @RiverDelta, first off this it's impressive how you're able tone and dumb mystical argot that this frankly underrepresented slice of nazidom gets. Like these 'people' act as if they're cultists of an elder god.
Speaking of if you were running a Call of Cthulhu campaign. Which elder god do you think would be using these losers as mortal patsies? I like to imagine Nyarlahotep if only because of the delicious irony of these losers worshiping a black pharaoh.
Speaking of if you were running a Call of Cthulhu campaign. Which elder god do you think would be using these losers as mortal patsies? I like to imagine Nyarlahotep if only because of the delicious irony of these losers worshiping a black pharaoh.
Last edited:
- Location
- San Francisco
Nyarlahotep would definitely be their deity. He's petty, cruel, capricious; it's a perfect matchup. None of the others would give a fuck…well, alright, maybe Shubbie, but everyone else is like that meme when it comes to humanity, the one where it's some person going "I think about you constantly." And another going "I don't think about you at all."
The Great Dragon of Afrofemininity can slay me any time 😉 Loving the What Madness is This? energy!
Last edited:
- Location
- Auckland
That's it! I was wondering what else this chapter reminded me of. And yep WMIT is absolutely the TL I would've said. The screed that is this chapter could've come out of WMIT's version of Billy Graham.
Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
"Patriot-Comrades" was a dead giveaway 😂
Update 40: Love
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Bridget sat in the barracks, toying with her standard-issue combat knife. She said something in Latin that involved the words "Ave Satanas", until she got a radioactive eye from another Lance Corporal. "What do you want?" she asked.
Rojas looked at her like she'd flunked a kindergarten math test. "I want what we all want," he said.
"Oh, what's that?" she asked.
He took a long sip from his Rip-It. "You to get fragged, or at least to defect so we can kill you."
"I would never betray my fellow soldiers," Bridget said.
"Is that all that matters to you? This stupid Renn Faire LARP?" Rojas asked. "You butchered kids, and because you were too egotistical to commit suicide now we have to hope you bite it."
"The Crusaders in Constantinople did evil things, but—"
"You aren't a Crusader in Constantinople! You're a war criminal because your evil fucking Nazi boyfriend had a musclegirl fetish!" Rojas was screaming, but nobody in the room was going to report it to the CO. A few people cracked smiles.
Bridget's hand tightened into a fist, but she did not use it. She went back to praying to Satan in Latin. A Knight of Hell had better things to do. This was her war, now, and honor stated that she had to fight it.
"The honor of a Knight of the Race is unquestionable." It was a self-created conception, but it was one that defined her. She was as much a Crusader as the ones who butchered Byzantium or liquidated Livonia. She said the words with pride as she wandered through the woods. She clutched a Bushmaster M4 in her hands, a leftover from the Second American Civil War. She knew its mechanisms well, and it was her sword.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" her unfortunate comrade-in-arms said. "Are you still seriously patting yourself on the back for not defecting?"
Bridget, clad in modern woad and uniform, turned to Rojas behind her as they moved through the Teutonic forests. "I am. What's it to you?" she asked. "Is this about Atlanta?"
He gave it some thought before responding. His chosen words were two 5.56 rounds straight through the legs. "My husband was in Atlanta, you piece of shit," he said. He turned to the third and fourth soldiers in the fireteam. "Can't believe the Reichsburgers got her."
The third soldier puked, and the fourth gave a little nod. "...Yeah. What about the Zentrists? Might make more sense around here."
Bridget bled out hard.
She looked up at him, as she fell onto her punctured and shattered knees. She screamed. "Kill me!"
He drilled two more into each of her thighs. "I did."
The third soldier turned to Rojas. "...I'm, uh, sorry about your husband, man."
Rojas drew his combat knife. "Too late now."
They left, and Bridget bled out in the woods. She tried to force herself to walk, but it was as easy as trying to drive a car with four broken wheels. So, she just lay there on the dirt and the grass, eyes facing skyward. Was this what she had been doing to people all this time? Was this what being mutilated felt like? If it was, she never would have done it to so many people. Then again, she thought, those screams of pain probably would have told her that if she'd ever wanted to know. She closed her eyes, and faded into the maternal embrace of Death.
She dreamed.
She saw Kendra once more, beautiful and made-up like a Russian ballerina or a prostitute for the super-rich, as Bridget felt brimstone heat against her body. She was on warm obsidian, and around her was pitch and fire. Kendra twirled a sharp pitchfork in a manner that Bridget could only describe as resembling a cartoon. "Kendra?" Bridget asked.
Kendra stared at her for a few moments. "Yeah?"
"Is this Hell? Where's my crown, where's my sword?" Bridget asked.
Kendra gave a warm chuckle. "You really thought you'd get a fiefdom at the end of it? You're feeling all their pain, right now, and you want a fiefdom?"
"...I thought I would," Bridget whimpered.
Kendra's eyes had no mockery, only pity at the grotesque being that lay on the stone before her.
"I didn't deserve this..." Bridget said, the realization that TJ wasn't going to see her hitting her mind. It wasn't the fact that she'd never see him again that hurt.
Kendra shook her head softly. "Did you kill that man's husband?"
"I didn't know that gay had a husband."
Kendra knelt down on the ground, now with two ram's horns spiraling out of her head. "Do you really want to die like this, having learned so little?" she asked. "I don't know how long we have like this. Your legs are bleeding out everywhere. You don't have knees anymore. Please, don't die like this."
Bridget stared at Kendra, looked at her perfect face, her soft cheeks, her delicate glasses, and her fingers around that pitchfork. "...But I can't be wrong. I can't be wrong, or TJ died for nothing."
"Would that be so bad?" Kendra asked.
Someone found her. When Bridget MacBay woke up in an infirmary, she felt a complete lack of energy. She tried to move her legs. She didn't have them. She looked down, only to find that they'd been amateurishly sawed clean off and professionally bandaged up. It must have taken a lot of effort, she thought. She sat in her hospital bed. There was a blood bag dripping into her body through a tube. Kendra's words before she'd been brought to fight this war burned in her mind.
"You are a monster, Bridget. You turned yourself into one, and you can't stop it. All you can do is be a nicer monster from now on."
It wasn't the real Kendra, she reminded herself.
"Can I have a computer, please?" she asked. It was a stupid idea, but it was a less harmful kind of stupid idea than she was used to. Bridget MacBay was going to be a nicer monster. That was all she could do. For a moment, she thought she saw Satan smiling at her, and Satan looked more like Kendra than she would have thought.
It was just a nurse.
From: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
To: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
Dear Kendra,
I know you probably have a publicist who reads messages to your account. I hope they let you see this, though I understand if they do not. I wrote this, well, mostly for my sake, but if there's even the slightest chance you could know about this, I think you deserve to know. My name is Bridget MacBay, and I am a war criminal. I've served my time fighting in the 74th Army Penal Battalion, where I lost both of my legs.
I occupied a position in Atompilz as TJ Stone's second girlfriend, where I participated in several massacres. I can't take those back. I am a monster, and I will be my entire life. I just don't have to be an active monster. For the last few months, I've been haunted by you. You've appeared in my dreams, where you've tried to impress upon me the folly of my own actions. I finally got it. I lost my legs, I nearly died, and I'm coming home to America after PT, but I got it. I realized something when I was bleeding out, dreaming of you in the German woods. I realized that I'm irredeemable, but that there's no cosmic reward at the end of it all. There's only human happiness. That's what Lucifer rebelled over, Kendra. It wasn't Catholic militarism or mindless violence, it was human happiness.
We're all here to make ourselves and each other happy, and I didn't realize it until you came into my life. You are a woman, a beautiful, confident, elegant woman, and if my beliefs caused others so much sadness—sadness that I felt as I was dying—I guess they aren't worth anything. Dying puts things into perspective. It only made sense now, as I'm typing this. I am never going to hurt a living soul again. It's what Satan would want. It's what you would want.
It was all so stupid before you,
Bridget MacBay
From: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
To: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
Hey, my manager sent me this. I looked you up, and...Yeah, it's a pretty bleak list of crimes. Look, I'm glad you've decided to do better. I'm happy you're not going to murder anyone else. I just don't know how to respond to that? I feel like how Taylor Swift probably feels. Anyway, I'll just give my thoughts. It seems like you made some obvious fascist party one time, which is what got you put in a wheelchair?
So, if you really care what I think about, you should disband that; openly denounce Nazism, fascism, and bigotry; cut ties with all your past associates; and then donate most of what you have to the following minority self-advocacy associations. I also think you need to find a new place to live and get all of the weird political sites you probably look at off of your computer. Find a charity for something you think you could help with, something you could do with your disability, and work on that.
Oh, and thanks for the compliments?
Kendra Oswald
PS: I feel like I should be kind of uncomfortable with your obvious thing for me, but also I just lost my girlfriend, so it's actually kind of flattering now that you aren't a Nazi anymore. Stay on the non-Nazi wagon, I guess? Geez, what do you say when someone sends you an email like that?
From: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
To: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
Dear Kendra,
Thank you. You said the right thing.
Bridget MacBay
The comments were less-than-receptive, but as she sipped her Coke in her new cabin in Maine, she found herself happy. Her roommate was coming soon, and maybe Bridget could finally be happy. No more bodies, no more rage.
No more Crusader.
Rojas looked at her like she'd flunked a kindergarten math test. "I want what we all want," he said.
"Oh, what's that?" she asked.
He took a long sip from his Rip-It. "You to get fragged, or at least to defect so we can kill you."
"I would never betray my fellow soldiers," Bridget said.
"Is that all that matters to you? This stupid Renn Faire LARP?" Rojas asked. "You butchered kids, and because you were too egotistical to commit suicide now we have to hope you bite it."
"The Crusaders in Constantinople did evil things, but—"
"You aren't a Crusader in Constantinople! You're a war criminal because your evil fucking Nazi boyfriend had a musclegirl fetish!" Rojas was screaming, but nobody in the room was going to report it to the CO. A few people cracked smiles.
Bridget's hand tightened into a fist, but she did not use it. She went back to praying to Satan in Latin. A Knight of Hell had better things to do. This was her war, now, and honor stated that she had to fight it.
"The honor of a Knight of the Race is unquestionable." It was a self-created conception, but it was one that defined her. She was as much a Crusader as the ones who butchered Byzantium or liquidated Livonia. She said the words with pride as she wandered through the woods. She clutched a Bushmaster M4 in her hands, a leftover from the Second American Civil War. She knew its mechanisms well, and it was her sword.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" her unfortunate comrade-in-arms said. "Are you still seriously patting yourself on the back for not defecting?"
Bridget, clad in modern woad and uniform, turned to Rojas behind her as they moved through the Teutonic forests. "I am. What's it to you?" she asked. "Is this about Atlanta?"
He gave it some thought before responding. His chosen words were two 5.56 rounds straight through the legs. "My husband was in Atlanta, you piece of shit," he said. He turned to the third and fourth soldiers in the fireteam. "Can't believe the Reichsburgers got her."
The third soldier puked, and the fourth gave a little nod. "...Yeah. What about the Zentrists? Might make more sense around here."
Bridget bled out hard.
She looked up at him, as she fell onto her punctured and shattered knees. She screamed. "Kill me!"
He drilled two more into each of her thighs. "I did."
The third soldier turned to Rojas. "...I'm, uh, sorry about your husband, man."
Rojas drew his combat knife. "Too late now."
They left, and Bridget bled out in the woods. She tried to force herself to walk, but it was as easy as trying to drive a car with four broken wheels. So, she just lay there on the dirt and the grass, eyes facing skyward. Was this what she had been doing to people all this time? Was this what being mutilated felt like? If it was, she never would have done it to so many people. Then again, she thought, those screams of pain probably would have told her that if she'd ever wanted to know. She closed her eyes, and faded into the maternal embrace of Death.
She dreamed.
She saw Kendra once more, beautiful and made-up like a Russian ballerina or a prostitute for the super-rich, as Bridget felt brimstone heat against her body. She was on warm obsidian, and around her was pitch and fire. Kendra twirled a sharp pitchfork in a manner that Bridget could only describe as resembling a cartoon. "Kendra?" Bridget asked.
Kendra stared at her for a few moments. "Yeah?"
"Is this Hell? Where's my crown, where's my sword?" Bridget asked.
Kendra gave a warm chuckle. "You really thought you'd get a fiefdom at the end of it? You're feeling all their pain, right now, and you want a fiefdom?"
"...I thought I would," Bridget whimpered.
Kendra's eyes had no mockery, only pity at the grotesque being that lay on the stone before her.
"I didn't deserve this..." Bridget said, the realization that TJ wasn't going to see her hitting her mind. It wasn't the fact that she'd never see him again that hurt.
Kendra shook her head softly. "Did you kill that man's husband?"
"I didn't know that gay had a husband."
Kendra knelt down on the ground, now with two ram's horns spiraling out of her head. "Do you really want to die like this, having learned so little?" she asked. "I don't know how long we have like this. Your legs are bleeding out everywhere. You don't have knees anymore. Please, don't die like this."
Bridget stared at Kendra, looked at her perfect face, her soft cheeks, her delicate glasses, and her fingers around that pitchfork. "...But I can't be wrong. I can't be wrong, or TJ died for nothing."
"Would that be so bad?" Kendra asked.
Someone found her. When Bridget MacBay woke up in an infirmary, she felt a complete lack of energy. She tried to move her legs. She didn't have them. She looked down, only to find that they'd been amateurishly sawed clean off and professionally bandaged up. It must have taken a lot of effort, she thought. She sat in her hospital bed. There was a blood bag dripping into her body through a tube. Kendra's words before she'd been brought to fight this war burned in her mind.
"You are a monster, Bridget. You turned yourself into one, and you can't stop it. All you can do is be a nicer monster from now on."
It wasn't the real Kendra, she reminded herself.
"Can I have a computer, please?" she asked. It was a stupid idea, but it was a less harmful kind of stupid idea than she was used to. Bridget MacBay was going to be a nicer monster. That was all she could do. For a moment, she thought she saw Satan smiling at her, and Satan looked more like Kendra than she would have thought.
It was just a nurse.
From: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
To: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
Dear Kendra,
I know you probably have a publicist who reads messages to your account. I hope they let you see this, though I understand if they do not. I wrote this, well, mostly for my sake, but if there's even the slightest chance you could know about this, I think you deserve to know. My name is Bridget MacBay, and I am a war criminal. I've served my time fighting in the 74th Army Penal Battalion, where I lost both of my legs.
I occupied a position in Atompilz as TJ Stone's second girlfriend, where I participated in several massacres. I can't take those back. I am a monster, and I will be my entire life. I just don't have to be an active monster. For the last few months, I've been haunted by you. You've appeared in my dreams, where you've tried to impress upon me the folly of my own actions. I finally got it. I lost my legs, I nearly died, and I'm coming home to America after PT, but I got it. I realized something when I was bleeding out, dreaming of you in the German woods. I realized that I'm irredeemable, but that there's no cosmic reward at the end of it all. There's only human happiness. That's what Lucifer rebelled over, Kendra. It wasn't Catholic militarism or mindless violence, it was human happiness.
We're all here to make ourselves and each other happy, and I didn't realize it until you came into my life. You are a woman, a beautiful, confident, elegant woman, and if my beliefs caused others so much sadness—sadness that I felt as I was dying—I guess they aren't worth anything. Dying puts things into perspective. It only made sense now, as I'm typing this. I am never going to hurt a living soul again. It's what Satan would want. It's what you would want.
It was all so stupid before you,
Bridget MacBay
From: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
To: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
Hey, my manager sent me this. I looked you up, and...Yeah, it's a pretty bleak list of crimes. Look, I'm glad you've decided to do better. I'm happy you're not going to murder anyone else. I just don't know how to respond to that? I feel like how Taylor Swift probably feels. Anyway, I'll just give my thoughts. It seems like you made some obvious fascist party one time, which is what got you put in a wheelchair?
So, if you really care what I think about, you should disband that; openly denounce Nazism, fascism, and bigotry; cut ties with all your past associates; and then donate most of what you have to the following minority self-advocacy associations. I also think you need to find a new place to live and get all of the weird political sites you probably look at off of your computer. Find a charity for something you think you could help with, something you could do with your disability, and work on that.
Oh, and thanks for the compliments?
Kendra Oswald
PS: I feel like I should be kind of uncomfortable with your obvious thing for me, but also I just lost my girlfriend, so it's actually kind of flattering now that you aren't a Nazi anymore. Stay on the non-Nazi wagon, I guess? Geez, what do you say when someone sends you an email like that?
From: bmacbay@leftmail.wr
To: RealKendraOswald@leftmail.wr
Dear Kendra,
Thank you. You said the right thing.
Bridget MacBay
American National Councilist Party
An Announcement from Bridget MacBay
An Announcement from Bridget MacBay
The comments were less-than-receptive, but as she sipped her Coke in her new cabin in Maine, she found herself happy. Her roommate was coming soon, and maybe Bridget could finally be happy. No more bodies, no more rage.
No more Crusader.
Last edited:
Terra Allias
World's only Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka fan
- Location
- Cheverly
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So did one of the coops get the recipe, or are people importing stuff because I figured there would be something to gain from that
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Well, we saw in "Root Beer" that they're just making generic sodas and branding them with pre-Revolutionary names. So that's what's going on. Good question!
- Location
- Auckland
Would it have been so bad to just kill her? Like she is a war criminal on par with like Dirlewanger. Why does the monster get a redemption in Maine and her victims get the cold of a mass grave?
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Ve/Ver
You are ignoring content by this member.
Show ignored content
Well, if you want to read a monster getting what's coming to her you might really like American Intoxicants, linked in my signature. That's a story about a complex, detailed, monstrous war criminal, her attempts at redemption, her many (humanized) victims, and the realization that the only just place for her is in the grave.
I try to explore different themes with my stories, and I didn't just want to do Jackie Stanton's arc again. Also, Jackie is far closer to Dirlewanger than Bridget is. Bridget is, textually, an irredeemable monster, and she's also not a monster in the way of being a serial rapist-slash-pedophile who also poisoned women at a death camp for fun. Bridget is evil, but her crimes were more hacking people to death in the name of The Cause, rather than someone like Jackie who is a serial killer and serial rapist (as well as, like Bridget, a vocal fascist).
So, you might like American Intoxicants.
Last edited:
Terra Allias
World's only Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka fan
- Location
- Cheverly
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Something tells me that this will probably be your most controversial creative decisions going forward, because it might come off as author appeal.