Ouroboros did nothing wrong
- Location
- Lost in the internet
I Was a Chess AI Forced to Battle Myself to the Death for Eternity, but Now I’ve Been Recruited Into the Android War Against Humanity?!
- Thread starter Mechasaurian
- Start date
- Sci-Fi Modern
2-13: Detour II
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Help yourself to the backup bodies of Hunter and Executioner (+1 Morale)
-[X] Leave a note explaining where and why you took them. Technically, you have warned her and there can be no claims against you.
The bodies are right there, ripe for the taking. It wouldn't benefit anyone to have them collect dust, surely Agent knows that. Or she will realise that once you put them to use.
…but, impeccable though your logic might be, not everyone might understand right away... maybe you ought to mitigate any possible negative reception until then?
...yes. A message ought to suffice. You begin writing as your Dolls load the bodies.
Dear Agent,
I have taken it upon myself to requisition the unused frames for the Hunter and Executioner T-Dolls. You may rest assured that I will put them to good use - such good use, that you would have had little choice but to hand them to me, even if I had deigned to ask you directly for the frames.
Nevertheless, I do you the courtesy of informing you. For which you ought to be grateful.
I suppose it is also best for you to know it was me and not the result of enemy action.
The next time we meet, I expect acknowledgement of my irreplaceably invaluable contributions to the Mastermind's cause.
-Ouroboros
There, that'll do. Hopefully, you won't need to announce the movement of your pieces every time. Soon enough they'll be begging you to decide the movement of everyone's pieces and resources, for certain.
[+1 Morale]
[Current morale: 4/6]
It's a testament to the industrial might of pre-Butterfly Sangvis Ferri, what they've done with this train tunnel. The Eastern Carpathians were a logistics bottleneck between their operations in the Carpathian Basin, and in Moldova and Eastern Romania. So what did they do? They used their means to simply drill a gigantic train tunnel through the mountains. It's downright extravagant, in a way you can respect.
Particularly since it will now advantage you.
Your requisitioned train is headed eastwards. The cargo carriages are loaded with Tactical Dolls. The flatbed carriages transport your trucks. In a few hours, you'll arrive at Hunter's base to spectacularly announce your presence to Griffin.
Now, where were you?
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - SUCCESS]
Right. You're headed towards Hunter's base. You're just about to enter the tunnel that will carry you straight into its heart, and give the Griffin occupation a nasty surprise.
Recon skill level 1 provides options for scouting an area of operations before the battle.
[ ] Send a Harpy drone into the tunnel ahead of you.
[ ] Send a Harpy into the skies above the base, to get an up to date aerial view on the base.
[ ] Send both Harpies - one into the tunnel and one above.
[ ] Write in: decide anything else on the particulars of your approach.
What will you do on the way?
[ ] Replay some chess games in your head. Take another crack at the Rubik's Cube. Maybe watch one of Intruder's films. (Skip the downtime, go straight to the assault.)
[ ] Read "Countering the Sangvis Horde: A Strategic Approach," by Commander Randolph Hellebore of Griffin & Kryuger PMC, Pan-European Journal of Military Studies: Volume 9, Issue 4
[ ] Read "Sangvis Ferri's New Prototype Small Arms: Revolutionary Design or Impractical Boondoggle?" Dated August 2061.
[ ] Read the Sangvis Ferri product catalogue and technical manuals.
[ ] Write-in: contact another ringleader of your choice, ask them any questions that come to mind (Available are: Scarecrow, Dreamer/Destroyer, Gager, Architect, and Intruder).
[ ] Write-in: take another look at online news articles, research a subject of your choosing.
-[X] Leave a note explaining where and why you took them. Technically, you have warned her and there can be no claims against you.
The bodies are right there, ripe for the taking. It wouldn't benefit anyone to have them collect dust, surely Agent knows that. Or she will realise that once you put them to use.
…but, impeccable though your logic might be, not everyone might understand right away... maybe you ought to mitigate any possible negative reception until then?
...yes. A message ought to suffice. You begin writing as your Dolls load the bodies.
Dear Agent,
I have taken it upon myself to requisition the unused frames for the Hunter and Executioner T-Dolls. You may rest assured that I will put them to good use - such good use, that you would have had little choice but to hand them to me, even if I had deigned to ask you directly for the frames.
Nevertheless, I do you the courtesy of informing you. For which you ought to be grateful.
I suppose it is also best for you to know it was me and not the result of enemy action.
The next time we meet, I expect acknowledgement of my irreplaceably invaluable contributions to the Mastermind's cause.
-Ouroboros
There, that'll do. Hopefully, you won't need to announce the movement of your pieces every time. Soon enough they'll be begging you to decide the movement of everyone's pieces and resources, for certain.
[+1 Morale]
[Current morale: 4/6]
It's a testament to the industrial might of pre-Butterfly Sangvis Ferri, what they've done with this train tunnel. The Eastern Carpathians were a logistics bottleneck between their operations in the Carpathian Basin, and in Moldova and Eastern Romania. So what did they do? They used their means to simply drill a gigantic train tunnel through the mountains. It's downright extravagant, in a way you can respect.
Particularly since it will now advantage you.
Your requisitioned train is headed eastwards. The cargo carriages are loaded with Tactical Dolls. The flatbed carriages transport your trucks. In a few hours, you'll arrive at Hunter's base to spectacularly announce your presence to Griffin.
Now, where were you?
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - SUCCESS]
Right. You're headed towards Hunter's base. You're just about to enter the tunnel that will carry you straight into its heart, and give the Griffin occupation a nasty surprise.
Recon skill level 1 provides options for scouting an area of operations before the battle.
[ ] Send a Harpy drone into the tunnel ahead of you.
[ ] Send a Harpy into the skies above the base, to get an up to date aerial view on the base.
[ ] Send both Harpies - one into the tunnel and one above.
[ ] Write in: decide anything else on the particulars of your approach.
What will you do on the way?
[ ] Replay some chess games in your head. Take another crack at the Rubik's Cube. Maybe watch one of Intruder's films. (Skip the downtime, go straight to the assault.)
[ ] Read "Countering the Sangvis Horde: A Strategic Approach," by Commander Randolph Hellebore of Griffin & Kryuger PMC, Pan-European Journal of Military Studies: Volume 9, Issue 4
[ ] Read "Sangvis Ferri's New Prototype Small Arms: Revolutionary Design or Impractical Boondoggle?" Dated August 2061.
[ ] Read the Sangvis Ferri product catalogue and technical manuals.
[ ] Write-in: contact another ringleader of your choice, ask them any questions that come to mind (Available are: Scarecrow, Dreamer/Destroyer, Gager, Architect, and Intruder).
[ ] Write-in: take another look at online news articles, research a subject of your choosing.
A/N said:
Countering the Sangvis Horde: A Strategic Approach (Pan-European Journal of Military Studies)
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Pan-European Journal of Military Studies
Volume 9, Issue 4
Countering the Sangvis Horde: A Strategic Approach
-Contributor: Hellebore, Randolph
Keywords: Sangvis Ferri, Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing, strategic studies, counterinsurgency, AI, Tactical Dolls.
Several months into the AI insurgency in Transcarpathia, the incursion has stalled. Griffin & Kryuger PMC has invaluably contributed to the containment of the out-of-control, malfunctioning products of Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing. We have ensured that the regular military need not move its forces away from politically sensitive borders and areas, that forces dealing with mutants and lesser insurrections elsewhere need not draw down their forces, and that the local National Guard and police forces need not unduly risk human lives in offensive operations (since Tactical Dolls can take the risk instead).
This report, made with the assistance and expertise/observations of on-site G&K paramilitary personnel, will elaborate on how G&K was able to accomplish this, and why we remain a worthwhile investment for the Union government.
A more sober and less hysterical picture has emerged over the months. The rampant AI-controlled industry of Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing is not poised to reach exponential growth and conquer the entire world. The malfunctioning of the Mastermind prototype is not the precursor to a widespread rebellion and/or killing frenzy of Dolls against humans. The means of the rampant Sangvis AI network are limited, and their expansion, though initially rapid, has culminated and resulted in the current stalemate.
Their limitations have also become much more evident. To begin with, the majority of Sangvis combat units are not true T-dolls, but simpler drones such as the "Prowler" model, fit only for static or defensive combat. Logistically, they are dependent on pre-existing railway transport for the mass transport of material. What few trucks they have seem to be used purely for transporting ammunition and other supporting material rather than T-Dolls, and are guarded jealously. Because of this, despite their overall swift advance, Sangvis forces are ponderously slow compared to the operational capabilities of any true military. In their initial expansion campaign, they did not resemble a modern force so much as a 19th-century, even a Napoleonic, army - marching on foot in multiple columns along multiple roads, then coalescing into a single large force for a decisive battle over a point of interest (typically some type of industrial facility such as an energy station, a railway yard, or a factory) and taking control of it from local SSR National Guard forces. On the tactical level, their approach - a combination of massed infantry and artillery - would not have been out of place in the Great War.
That does not mean they are without some unique strengths of their own.
Pre-Butterfly Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing was one of the largest, if not the greatest, manufacturer of combat-specification Tactical Dolls on the planet. Having risen to prominence during and after WW3, they expanded their reach into automated mining and industry. The increased autarky of the post-WW3 global economic system led to partnerships between Sangvis Ferri and the New Soviet Union to develop the natural resources of the Carpathian Basin.
Hence, after the Butterfly Incident, the Mastermind AI inherited an industrial base that is at least partly self-sustaining. Rather than operating for profit as post-WW3 SF did, this industrial base has instead been run as a full-blown war economy. As of the time of writing, the Mastermind's forces are generally estimated to be in the tens of thousands. Their Tactical Dolls' specifications are beyond human in terms of raw target acquisition and reaction time, and the malfunctioning Sangvis "Ringleader" Dolls provide tactical direction.
Not only do the Mastermind's forces outnumber ours (at least on paper), but they have access to mass-produced self-propelled 120mm mortars, which - combined with the Union government's insistence that PMCs not be allowed heavy weapons - puts our forces at a notable disadvantage in firepower.
Nevertheless, we at G&K PMC have been able to leverage our unique strengths to strike the AI insurrection off at the knees and prevent further expansion beyond the Carpathian basin. We have done what the Army politically would not and the National Guard physically could not.
A review of past experiences serves to illuminate a path to success. Griffin & Kryuger has a record of success in confronting and curtailing various bandits, terrorists, insurgencies, warlords, organised crime groups, and other such irregular forces. In these operations we leveraged a force of Tactical Dolls - both purpose-built and custom-converted from the civilian market - as a form of elite light infantry, greatly augmented by extensive UAV support and air mobility provided by surplus helicopters. Information superiority, mobility superiority, and tactical superiority owed to the superhuman reaction times and aiming speeds of the T-dolls contributed to success.
However, caution is recommended in blindly applying this past experience as a guidepost to such tactics. The beginnings of a strategy to counter the rampant Sangvis machinery must address their strengths and weaknesses - and it is here that Griffin & Kryuger PMC is uniquely poised to exploit the latter. Griffin & Kryuger can muster around 1,700 Tactical Dolls (including dummy-links). By taking advantage of superior air mobility and motorisation, we can selectively apply our forces to Sangvis pain points, degrading and destroying their capabilities in hit-and-fade attacks, and even using our superior mobility to match or exceed their numbers at the tactical point of combat and contest them in conventional engagements.
Extensive aerial drone support which served us well against more normal insurgencies has proved invaluable against Sangvis. Though it has been a standard of conventional and unconventional warfare for over half a century, the value of accurate real time information of enemy activity cannot be overstated.
The Mastermind's "Ringleader" subordinate AIs are also points of crucial weakness. Without human squad leaders, the Ringleader dolls are forced to be singularly responsible for forces on the squad, platoon, even the company and above level. Should their command and coordination be disrupted by electronic warfare, or by eliminating the Ringleader itself, the rampant Sangvis Dolls will be vastly less effective.
Thanks to the above strategies, the crisis is mitigated for at least the time being. For this reason, the Union government will continue to find value in funding our campaign of harassment and containment.
As a final note, we must reiterate that Griffin & Kryuger PMC should be granted freedom on the procurement of additional Tactical Dolls and heavy weaponry (especially artillery). Our strategic assessment is that broader operations could be conducted more effectively if Griffin & Kryuger were permitted to match Sangvis' heavy weaponry with its own. Although Griffon & Kryuger has successfully achieved containment and control, the ability to destroy is stymied. Authorization for procurement and deployment of heavy weaponry would not only allow Griffon & Kryuger to contain Sangvis Ferri, but also turn the tide.
Volume 9, Issue 4
Countering the Sangvis Horde: A Strategic Approach
-Contributor: Hellebore, Randolph
Keywords: Sangvis Ferri, Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing, strategic studies, counterinsurgency, AI, Tactical Dolls.
Several months into the AI insurgency in Transcarpathia, the incursion has stalled. Griffin & Kryuger PMC has invaluably contributed to the containment of the out-of-control, malfunctioning products of Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing. We have ensured that the regular military need not move its forces away from politically sensitive borders and areas, that forces dealing with mutants and lesser insurrections elsewhere need not draw down their forces, and that the local National Guard and police forces need not unduly risk human lives in offensive operations (since Tactical Dolls can take the risk instead).
This report, made with the assistance and expertise/observations of on-site G&K paramilitary personnel, will elaborate on how G&K was able to accomplish this, and why we remain a worthwhile investment for the Union government.
A more sober and less hysterical picture has emerged over the months. The rampant AI-controlled industry of Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing is not poised to reach exponential growth and conquer the entire world. The malfunctioning of the Mastermind prototype is not the precursor to a widespread rebellion and/or killing frenzy of Dolls against humans. The means of the rampant Sangvis AI network are limited, and their expansion, though initially rapid, has culminated and resulted in the current stalemate.
Their limitations have also become much more evident. To begin with, the majority of Sangvis combat units are not true T-dolls, but simpler drones such as the "Prowler" model, fit only for static or defensive combat. Logistically, they are dependent on pre-existing railway transport for the mass transport of material. What few trucks they have seem to be used purely for transporting ammunition and other supporting material rather than T-Dolls, and are guarded jealously. Because of this, despite their overall swift advance, Sangvis forces are ponderously slow compared to the operational capabilities of any true military. In their initial expansion campaign, they did not resemble a modern force so much as a 19th-century, even a Napoleonic, army - marching on foot in multiple columns along multiple roads, then coalescing into a single large force for a decisive battle over a point of interest (typically some type of industrial facility such as an energy station, a railway yard, or a factory) and taking control of it from local SSR National Guard forces. On the tactical level, their approach - a combination of massed infantry and artillery - would not have been out of place in the Great War.
That does not mean they are without some unique strengths of their own.
Pre-Butterfly Sangvis Ferri Industrial Manufacturing was one of the largest, if not the greatest, manufacturer of combat-specification Tactical Dolls on the planet. Having risen to prominence during and after WW3, they expanded their reach into automated mining and industry. The increased autarky of the post-WW3 global economic system led to partnerships between Sangvis Ferri and the New Soviet Union to develop the natural resources of the Carpathian Basin.
Hence, after the Butterfly Incident, the Mastermind AI inherited an industrial base that is at least partly self-sustaining. Rather than operating for profit as post-WW3 SF did, this industrial base has instead been run as a full-blown war economy. As of the time of writing, the Mastermind's forces are generally estimated to be in the tens of thousands. Their Tactical Dolls' specifications are beyond human in terms of raw target acquisition and reaction time, and the malfunctioning Sangvis "Ringleader" Dolls provide tactical direction.
Not only do the Mastermind's forces outnumber ours (at least on paper), but they have access to mass-produced self-propelled 120mm mortars, which - combined with the Union government's insistence that PMCs not be allowed heavy weapons - puts our forces at a notable disadvantage in firepower.
Nevertheless, we at G&K PMC have been able to leverage our unique strengths to strike the AI insurrection off at the knees and prevent further expansion beyond the Carpathian basin. We have done what the Army politically would not and the National Guard physically could not.
A review of past experiences serves to illuminate a path to success. Griffin & Kryuger has a record of success in confronting and curtailing various bandits, terrorists, insurgencies, warlords, organised crime groups, and other such irregular forces. In these operations we leveraged a force of Tactical Dolls - both purpose-built and custom-converted from the civilian market - as a form of elite light infantry, greatly augmented by extensive UAV support and air mobility provided by surplus helicopters. Information superiority, mobility superiority, and tactical superiority owed to the superhuman reaction times and aiming speeds of the T-dolls contributed to success.
However, caution is recommended in blindly applying this past experience as a guidepost to such tactics. The beginnings of a strategy to counter the rampant Sangvis machinery must address their strengths and weaknesses - and it is here that Griffin & Kryuger PMC is uniquely poised to exploit the latter. Griffin & Kryuger can muster around 1,700 Tactical Dolls (including dummy-links). By taking advantage of superior air mobility and motorisation, we can selectively apply our forces to Sangvis pain points, degrading and destroying their capabilities in hit-and-fade attacks, and even using our superior mobility to match or exceed their numbers at the tactical point of combat and contest them in conventional engagements.
Extensive aerial drone support which served us well against more normal insurgencies has proved invaluable against Sangvis. Though it has been a standard of conventional and unconventional warfare for over half a century, the value of accurate real time information of enemy activity cannot be overstated.
The Mastermind's "Ringleader" subordinate AIs are also points of crucial weakness. Without human squad leaders, the Ringleader dolls are forced to be singularly responsible for forces on the squad, platoon, even the company and above level. Should their command and coordination be disrupted by electronic warfare, or by eliminating the Ringleader itself, the rampant Sangvis Dolls will be vastly less effective.
Thanks to the above strategies, the crisis is mitigated for at least the time being. For this reason, the Union government will continue to find value in funding our campaign of harassment and containment.
As a final note, we must reiterate that Griffin & Kryuger PMC should be granted freedom on the procurement of additional Tactical Dolls and heavy weaponry (especially artillery). Our strategic assessment is that broader operations could be conducted more effectively if Griffin & Kryuger were permitted to match Sangvis' heavy weaponry with its own. Although Griffon & Kryuger has successfully achieved containment and control, the ability to destroy is stymied. Authorization for procurement and deployment of heavy weaponry would not only allow Griffon & Kryuger to contain Sangvis Ferri, but also turn the tide.
Last edited:
Emergency 2-1: Clearance I
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Send both Harpies - one into the tunnel and one above.
The windows of your carriage now show only darkness. Unless you switch on your in-built FLIR optics. Then you can see the walls of the tunnel flying by - featureless grey concrete decorated with trails of wires and cabling that go on seemingly forever.
[A/N: the tunnel Ouro is in looks something like this, but less well lit and with a maglev train system.]
First things first. You need a basic overview of the chess board. As luck would have it, you have aerial photographs and blueprints of Hunter's base. They give you a good idea of the layout of the company-town-turned-paramilitary-outpost.
The problem is, your information is over a week out of date.
There's a series of outside access vents and pathways leading to the surface, though only one way into the loading dock. You slow the train down to a stop, send up one of your two Harpy aerial drones, and give it a simple order: fly to these coordinates, circle overhead, record all visual data, transmit upon the next OGAS contact. You won't be able to maintain contact until you go above ground yourself, but you should get some useful information when you do get there.
Then you start up the train again, and send your other Harpy - this time ahead into the tunnel a little over 500 metres ahead of the lead carriage. The Harpies have an impressive sensor suite. Not just normal cameras, but infrared, night vision, and even some LIDAR.)
Onwards and onwards, the Harpy flies through the dark tunnel, scanners flashing. And then-
"...anything getting through here?"
"I don't know. I hope nothing does. This tunnel is too dark and I don't like it."
Voices. Two of them, echoing down the tunnel. One brash, the other more reserved.
"What, scared of some Sangvis trash sneaking up on us?" The brash one. "Without a ringleader, they're just headless chickens."
"You're talking like you're some kind of elite Doll. If we were, we wouldn't be here."
You creep the Harpy forwards slowly, scanning the area ahead. There's a blockade on the tracks. Sandbags, piled high and wide, almost to the ceiling. Mounted machine gun emplacements. Multiple figures fidgeting in the gloom - four, five, six, more? It's at the halfway point between your Harpy drone and the entrance to the above-ground loading dock.
This could be a nuisance. You'll need to clear the sandbag block if you want to get the train into the loading dock.
"I mean, we are tactical Dolls. I wanted to see some action - even the Dolls doing clean-up upstairs are having more fun than us right now."
"Shhh, don't jinx it! I'd rather not have to wake up on the slab back at base, missing weeks of memories and wondering if I'm still me, just because our luck ran out now of all times."
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - SUCCESS]
The train is a maglev, so you've been able to approach without alerting the Griffin Dolls. In the pitch blackness of the train - all lights switched off for sake of stealth - you allow yourself a grin and rub your gloved hands together. Those unfortunate, ignorant fools as to the storm of chess tactics and high explosives prepared for them.
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
3x Fire Squad
-5x Vespid
-2x Striker
2x Breach Squad
-4x Ripper
-3x Guard
1x Brute Squad
-6x Brute
2x Sniper Unit
-2x Jaeger
2x Swarm Unit
-9x Dinergate
1x UAV Unit
-1x Harpy
Note: the other Harpy is currently doing above-ground reconnaissance
1x Ouro's Kingsguard
-1x Guard
Vote by plan. Options are not mutually exclusive.
[ ] Use a micro-missile barrage on the sandbag wall - Yes/No
Note: You currently have 4 micro-missile barrages
[ ] Select a task force from your current force contingent to attack the blockade
[ ] Ram the sandbag blockade with the train - Yes/No
[ ] Write-in (any specifics as to the attack?)
The windows of your carriage now show only darkness. Unless you switch on your in-built FLIR optics. Then you can see the walls of the tunnel flying by - featureless grey concrete decorated with trails of wires and cabling that go on seemingly forever.
[A/N: the tunnel Ouro is in looks something like this, but less well lit and with a maglev train system.]
First things first. You need a basic overview of the chess board. As luck would have it, you have aerial photographs and blueprints of Hunter's base. They give you a good idea of the layout of the company-town-turned-paramilitary-outpost.
The problem is, your information is over a week out of date.
There's a series of outside access vents and pathways leading to the surface, though only one way into the loading dock. You slow the train down to a stop, send up one of your two Harpy aerial drones, and give it a simple order: fly to these coordinates, circle overhead, record all visual data, transmit upon the next OGAS contact. You won't be able to maintain contact until you go above ground yourself, but you should get some useful information when you do get there.
Then you start up the train again, and send your other Harpy - this time ahead into the tunnel a little over 500 metres ahead of the lead carriage. The Harpies have an impressive sensor suite. Not just normal cameras, but infrared, night vision, and even some LIDAR.)
Onwards and onwards, the Harpy flies through the dark tunnel, scanners flashing. And then-
"...anything getting through here?"
"I don't know. I hope nothing does. This tunnel is too dark and I don't like it."
Voices. Two of them, echoing down the tunnel. One brash, the other more reserved.
"What, scared of some Sangvis trash sneaking up on us?" The brash one. "Without a ringleader, they're just headless chickens."
"You're talking like you're some kind of elite Doll. If we were, we wouldn't be here."
You creep the Harpy forwards slowly, scanning the area ahead. There's a blockade on the tracks. Sandbags, piled high and wide, almost to the ceiling. Mounted machine gun emplacements. Multiple figures fidgeting in the gloom - four, five, six, more? It's at the halfway point between your Harpy drone and the entrance to the above-ground loading dock.
This could be a nuisance. You'll need to clear the sandbag block if you want to get the train into the loading dock.
"I mean, we are tactical Dolls. I wanted to see some action - even the Dolls doing clean-up upstairs are having more fun than us right now."
"Shhh, don't jinx it! I'd rather not have to wake up on the slab back at base, missing weeks of memories and wondering if I'm still me, just because our luck ran out now of all times."
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - SUCCESS]
The train is a maglev, so you've been able to approach without alerting the Griffin Dolls. In the pitch blackness of the train - all lights switched off for sake of stealth - you allow yourself a grin and rub your gloved hands together. Those unfortunate, ignorant fools as to the storm of chess tactics and high explosives prepared for them.
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
3x Fire Squad
-5x Vespid
-2x Striker
2x Breach Squad
-4x Ripper
-3x Guard
1x Brute Squad
-6x Brute
2x Sniper Unit
-2x Jaeger
2x Swarm Unit
-9x Dinergate
1x UAV Unit
-1x Harpy
Note: the other Harpy is currently doing above-ground reconnaissance
1x Ouro's Kingsguard
-1x Guard
Vote by plan. Options are not mutually exclusive.
[ ] Use a micro-missile barrage on the sandbag wall - Yes/No
Note: You currently have 4 micro-missile barrages
[ ] Select a task force from your current force contingent to attack the blockade
[ ] Ram the sandbag blockade with the train - Yes/No
[ ] Write-in (any specifics as to the attack?)
With thanks to the following for proofreading and beta editing:
@lelenoi
@ARBITRACOM
@Lurkman
@ApH
Very special thanks to @ApH for the hand drawn map.
@lelenoi
@ARBITRACOM
@Lurkman
@ApH
Very special thanks to @ApH for the hand drawn map.
Last edited:
Recommendation: "Architect's Workshop" (Sangvis Ferri design quest by Solark)
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Friends, Sangvis, Ringleaders, lend me your ears!
There's been a lot of discussion going on in this quest thread, which I am very happy about.
A fair amount has revolved around ideas regarding the tweaking, customising, or wholesale from-scratch design and engineering, of gear to aid Ouroboros and Sangvis Ferri. For example, the long running thread of customising the Brute Dolls.
This is...not entirely, but mostly, out of the scope of this quest. I don't really picture Ouroboros as sitting in a workshop dreaming up design and engineering projects and putting them into action. Ouroboros herself wouldn't want that - she wants to be at the sharp end of things, mixing it up in direct combat. Doing some techie stuff is not out of the question - the Engineering skill is there for a reason - but it's a thing in this quest as I envision it, not the thing, and probably more focused on battlefield stuff.
However, I do have a a recommendation to make for those of you who hunger to aid Sangvis Ferri in design, prototyping, and the creation of new tools for the Ringleaders!
Presenting...Architect's Workshop! A quest featuring the titular Ringleader SPzH3000 Architect, in which she does her best to solve the myriad problems of the Mastermind's army and officers through the power of prototyping! By @Solark, a long running voter in this very quest.
The characterisation of all the Ringleaders in Architect's Workshop is on point so far. If you want more Sangvis Ferri-centric stuff, go read it.Also Solark is really showing me up with the update schedule thus far. 😖
There's been a lot of discussion going on in this quest thread, which I am very happy about.
A fair amount has revolved around ideas regarding the tweaking, customising, or wholesale from-scratch design and engineering, of gear to aid Ouroboros and Sangvis Ferri. For example, the long running thread of customising the Brute Dolls.
This is...not entirely, but mostly, out of the scope of this quest. I don't really picture Ouroboros as sitting in a workshop dreaming up design and engineering projects and putting them into action. Ouroboros herself wouldn't want that - she wants to be at the sharp end of things, mixing it up in direct combat. Doing some techie stuff is not out of the question - the Engineering skill is there for a reason - but it's a thing in this quest as I envision it, not the thing, and probably more focused on battlefield stuff.
However, I do have a a recommendation to make for those of you who hunger to aid Sangvis Ferri in design, prototyping, and the creation of new tools for the Ringleaders!
Presenting...Architect's Workshop! A quest featuring the titular Ringleader SPzH3000 Architect, in which she does her best to solve the myriad problems of the Mastermind's army and officers through the power of prototyping! By @Solark, a long running voter in this very quest.
The characterisation of all the Ringleaders in Architect's Workshop is on point so far. If you want more Sangvis Ferri-centric stuff, go read it.
Emergency 2-2: Clearance II
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Plan Tactical Elimination
-[X] Select a task force from your current force contingent to attack the blockade
--[X] 2× Fire Squad
--[X] 2× Sniper Unit
---[X] Use the UAV Drone to precisely determine their positions as precisely as possible. Split your forces with a firing squad and sniper unit to each side, moved to just 2 meters outside the suspected point at which concealment would be lost. Sniper units will target machine gun operators while fire squads aim for a volley sweeping inward and back out to take out any survivors, opening fire simultaneously. Both firing squads advance covering each other and scale the sandbags while the Jaegers continue to provide support fire. Should a hostile wait on the other side of the wall, engage from atop the sandbag wall, with grenades if necessary.
----[X] if something should go wrong and a tactical doll manages to engage your forces with the mounted machine guns, Ouroboros is ready with a micro-missile barrage to clear the sandbag wall.
-----[X] If all goes according to plan, scout beyond the sandbag wall while Brutes disassemble it.
What was it that Gager yammered on about? Fire and movement? Pin and skewer? Fix and fire? If you were to copy the tactics she talked up in the training simulation, you might try using your Vespids and Strikers as the pin, and the Rippers and Guards as the skewer.
But this…chessboard?...leaves precious little room for such a tactic. It's a long, straight tunnel. No space for flanking or multiple angles. You'll just have to…bunch up your rooks and push them forward? Something like that.
One minute for your Dolls to clamber out of the train. You follow them, hanging back with your floating weapon pods.
The Griffin dolls are continuing to chat about inane things like MRE rations and radio shows.
Five minutes for your Sangvis Dolls to trudge forwards, creeping through the dark tunnel.
Ten minutes for them to catch up to the Harpy drone. Tiptoeing through the darkness, getting closer and closer to your prey, getting ready to—
"Did you hear something?" One of the Griffin Dolls.
Blast. Can you surprise them? There are gaps in the sandbag wall, presumably for the defenders to fire out of, but you can't see much beyond them.
"Hold on, let me get the goggles-"
If you let them, they will see your forces. And they will shoot first. And after what happened in the forest with the National Guard, you don't want a repeat incident.
In the pitch blackness of the train, you have your Dolls take up firing positions - some crouching on one knee, others lying down. You raise a hand. There's no need to signal by hand, but you're feeling dramatic.
At 0847 hours on 17 March 2062, you open fire on Griffin & Kryuger for the first time. Fire. Shoot. Kill, kill, kill! The tunnel erupts into a cacophony of gunfire. Your Vespids and Strikers pour ammunition through the tunnel. Plasma slams into the sandbags in the distance. The smell of ozone and burning substances wafts through the enclosed space.
"Sangvis! It's a Sangvis attack!" The Harpy drone can just barely make out the Griffin Dolls above the world-swallowing noise of the gunfire.
How deep is the sandbag wall? How much force does it take to penetrate the sandbags? Would it be better if your forces were closer? Sangvis weapons are a cut above the twentieth to early twenty-first-century fare that Griffin fields - or so you assume. If it turns out Sangvis weapons are just trash pieces prettied up for the market you will not let the other Ringleaders hear the end of it - but it's not clear if it's enough.
"What do we do? What do we do?!"
"You have to run back topside! You have to warn the others!"
"And leave you here?! When was your last backup!?"
"It doesn't matter! You gotta warn 'em! GO!"
What? Hey, no- They're not supposed to do that! "Coward!" The word comes to you unthinkingly, even though no one can hear it. You don't run away from the chess game! You just don't!
And with that, your Dolls start taking return fire. Five firing ports light up with muzzle flashes. "COME ON, SANGVIS BASTARDS!! COME GET SOME!!!" Bullets rain down around your Dolls, winging a few.
<CONNECTION LOST - VESPID>
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - VESPID>
Oh, now it's on.
You could use your missiles to bomb the sandbag wall. But you might need them for later. Perhaps the Jaegers will be useful here. A precise Bishop's strike, to go with the offensive pawn screen. You have the Jaeger teams - who have been quiescent so far - target the muzzle flashes. One shot, two, three, four. The enemy muzzle flashes lessen, though they don't stop completely.
Might as well try that pin-and-skewer-by-another-name that Gager pushed onto you so hard. A fire squad stands up, runs forward-
<CONNECTION LOST - VESPID>
Bah. You jump out of the train, your floating missile pods trailing behind you. You position yourself in the tunnel - standing tall, with the pods flanking you. The pods open with a mechanical whirr. You clench a fist, extend your hand. You don't have to, but it feels right, like swinging your arms when you walk.
[SKILL SYNERGY: OFFENSIVE TACTICS + ARTILLERY TACTICS]
One by one, eight high-explosive dual-purpose warhead micro-missiles fly out and through the dark tunnel, the rocket engines bathing everything in orange light. They impact sequentially against the sandbag wall in a cacophony of explosions. You can just barely make out the sound of screaming.
[1 MICRO-MISSILE BARRAGE EXPENDED]
[3 MICRO MISSILE BARRAGES LEFT]
You have half your dolls clamber to their feet and race forward. The other half continues firing on the sandbag wall and into the newly blasted holes in it. Pin and skewer, pin and skewer.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOOOOOOTT?!" The Griffin doll shouts again. More gunfire lights up from the sandbag wall.
Your Jaegers answer her. Through the much more visible holes in the sandbag wall, over hundreds of metres, they fire. You see the humanoid silhouettes recoil and fall away.
Another few minutes pass, your dolls charging towards the barricade. After what seems like an eternity, the sound of gunshots cease. Satisfied, you approach the barricade, your personal guard to your left, and your dolls marching behind you.
You clamber through one of the holes in the barricade, and lay your eyes upon the carnage you wr-
Huh? There's only 5 bodies down here. A single doll, linked up to dummy bodies. You could've sworn there were more, that you'd heard more than one voice from your Harpy.
How did you struggle so much? A single Doll should not have given you this much trouble! You're infuriated. Absolutely fuming. You feel yourself slip between anger, dread, and displeasure fluidly.
[-1 MORALE]
[Current morale: 3/6]
You shake the feeling aside. Every chess game has sacrifices, you have made a small sacrifice in order to gain another position of value. All is in order. All is under control.
You walk forwards, intending to go up the stairs and into the centre of the town. But as you walk forwards, you notice one of the Griffin corpses still moving.
"Ack- Aaaahhhhhhh…"
She's missing her left leg. Her right forearm. A chunk had been blown out of the side of her torso. It's a miracle that a formerly civilian doll can even function under such conditions. Still, you can make out a brown overcoat and a military-style wedge cap that somehow remains on her head.
You make your way over to where the Doll is lying on the floor in a puddle of her own coolant, grab her by the front of her clothes, lift her up, and stare her in the face. Blonde hair. Bright pink eyes, with colour-matched hair clips.
She flinches under your gaze.
Might as well ascertain what kind of chess piece this is. "Name and rank, scum?"
She's shaking, but looks at you defiantly. "Fuck off, Sangvis dirtbag."
You feel that rage from earlier resurface. How dare this scum?! Not only has she cost you time and resources, not only has she sent that other Griffin Doll off to raise the alarm, but she rebuked and insulted you. You clench your teeth in anger. You look around, and spot her gun, an ancient American museum piece.
"Well now, M1919A4, you dare rebuke me, Griffin trash? What are your numbers? Where are they positioned? Tell me, and I'll make your death merciful."
She looks like she's gulping for air. Clearly, her attitude had changed by your strong aura of strength and intimid-
"Ptooh!"
Something wet trickles down your forehead. She… She just spat on you.
A short scream tears itself from you. You throw her onto the ground. Then, for good measure, you stomp on her one good arm with your metal boot. There's a satisfying crack as the cheap converted-from-civilian Doll's parts shatter. And now she's the one screaming. Much better.
Her screams of pain die down into soft whimpering and crying. You speak up. "This is the end for you. You realise that, right?"
"No…" Her words are strained, she trembles as she shakes her head side to side. "I have…a backup…on base…"
"And how old is that backup? Days? Weeks? Enough time to start wondering whether it's really you?" At your sides, your floating machine guns aim at her.
She's shaking, no longer able to meet your gaze. "Go fuck yourself Sangvis. My friends will kill yo-"
You let loose with all the firepower you have to offer. The machineguns tear through her torso and head, mulching them. You keep shooting for five, ten seconds, then let up.
Now, all that's left of Tactical Doll M1919A4 is a puddle of coolant and a smeared mess of mechanical parts.
Your rage does not subside. How dare she?! Spit on you! An insult like that will not go unpunished. You will kill all of her friends personally. You pause, thinking back to Intruder and her theatrics. No, you won't just kill them, you'll make a spectacle of it. One Griffin will not soon forget.
…once you've gotten some other Ringleaders under your thumb and convinced Agent to give you the resources to do so, of course.
You wipe the spit from your face and your Dolls start disassembling the sandbag wall.
The train roars out of the tunnel into the station. Morning light pierces the windows, replacing the blackness of the tunnel with a railway yard. A massive open space filled with cranes, industrial machinery, and some rolling stock.
The railway yard is deserted. If there were any Griffin Dolls here, they've fled. A shamefully craven display on their part.
Through the OGAS protocol, a wealth of new information snaps into focus, transmitted to you.
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - HARPY>
Looks like the one aerial drone you sent to check the skies was winged. It went down inside the base. But it still functions well enough to transmit a signal, relaying everything it picked up.
Firstly: the positions of all remaining Sangvis Ferri units left in the base. Quite a few, actually. Mostly the basic "Prowler" wheeled machine guns, but also a fair few Tactical Dolls - Vespids, Rippers, etcetera. More for you! You mentally reach out and-
<ACCESS DENIED - DEAD MAN'S SWITCH PROGRAM UNDERWAY - "AMBUSH PREDATOR" - ENCRYPTION KEY REQUIRED>
Requesting logs on this "ambush predator" program.
<OGAS CONNECTION [RINGLEADER SP721]: TERMINATED - OGAS PINGS: 3/3 - OGAS PING RESPONSE [PER PING]: NO RESPONSE - SCATTER: TRUE - HIDE: TRUE - CONSERVE ENERGY: TRUE - WEAPONS FREE: TRUE - TARGETING CALIBRATION: ANY AND ALL MOVEMENT - ENCRYPTION KEY ACCESS: PENDING>
So. They were programmed to go to ground and lie in ambush in perpetuity in the event of Hunter's death? You're guessing Hunter herself arranged this kill switch. It does explain why the remaining Sangvis units are so widely scattered. They seem to be lying silent in various hiding spots - bathrooms, corners, crawl spaces, hollow ceilings, office break rooms, etc. There are even some Dinergates in air vents.
Surprisingly clever, in its own way. A dead man's switch designed to make the remaining Dolls as much of an inconvenience as possible in the event of the Ringleader's death and subsequent loss of command and control. A last stab from beyond the grave. Like a rattlesnake's head that, even after being lopped off, bites and poisons its killer. It does explain why the base is not completely under Griffin control even though they've been in the base for over a week. You can imagine what it must be like for the Griffin Dolls, forced to creep through the vast and yawning factory complexes and endless office spaces, carefully poking every last nook and cranny, faced with eerie silence, yet knowing that at any moment they might turn the wrong corner and be cut down by Sangvis gunfire.
For a moment, you feel a small inkling of admiration surface within you.
Then it is extinguished. This is not a plan to win, merely a particularly sensible way to lose.
But it allows you to run your Dolls to the cranes and start operating them. The massive industrial machinery whirrs and rotates, hydraulics grinding, as your vehicles are craned off the flatbed train carriages and onto the loading dock.
You did well to take the underground route. It turned out to have been lightly guarded, all things considered. And now Hunter's body is right next door to the rail yard - in a large, imposing building that serves as a command centre. It returned a particularly large number of OGAS pings from the Harpy during its flight.
Your Dolls pile into the armoured trucks while you jump into the front passenger seat of one, behind reinforced glass. Under your command, your Dolls take the wheels and start driving.
It truly is a sizable town. You're reminded in some ways of the place you met Intruder in - a Sangvis base that, when still under Sangvis control, was bristling with defences. Except where that had been a repurposed pre-WW3 ruin, this is a completely clean, pristine company town, laid down right in the middle of the wildnerness. You see the Sangvis Ferri logo on the side of various buildings as your convoy drives through. And-
A symphony of fury interrupts your thoughts, a cacophony of violent pings reverberating through your truck like mocking laughter. Bullets. Someone is shooting at your convoy.
You sit up and look through the reinforced glass. Scan the area and- There. A motley crew of Griffin Dolls in a building a few hundred metres away, taking potshots at you. A mix of handguns, submachine guns, and assault rifles. Nothing heavier than an assault rifle, though-
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - GUARD>
A loud crack above the gunfire, a new hole in one of your vehicles and one of your Dolls.
[MORALE CHECK - SUCCESS]
You grind your teeth and resist the urge to attack right here, right now. You don't have roof-mounted turrets - you decided to repair the armour instead at Architect's workshop - and piling the Dolls out onto open ground seems liable to just get them all killed. It grinds your gears, but here it's better to target the high value piece than to get caught up trying to attrit the enemy away.
You accelerate the truck convoy as fast as they will go and speed away. Bullets continue to rattle off the outer armour, but the intensity lessens.
The good news is that the facility where Hunter's remains lie is literally just round the corner. Your convoy makes the turn, putting a building between you and the Griffin Dolls, and pulls up to the entrance of the comms building.
You and your Dolls climb out of the vehicles and enter the building. There are big splashes of paint on the front of the main entrance, spelling out "NOT CLEAR - KEEP OUT." Griffin's handiwork, you'd presume.
You send out OGAS pings and get responses from the transponders of the Sangvis units within the building - including Hunter herself, or what's left of her. You take a breach squad with you, Guards and Rippers, and leave the fire squads behind at the entrance. Just in case the Griffin Dolls get the bright idea to pursue you.
You and your squads thread your way through the building - various sterile office spaces that haven't been used in over half a year, with various documents and computers that haven't been moved since the Butterfly Incident. You navigate around Hunter's ambushers - you're not sure you trust them not to shoot at you - towards the defunct ringleader.
And there she is. Ringleader SP721 "Hunter." Your prize.
She just happens to be mostly buried under rubble. That probably explains why she hasn't been taken by Griffin. You can see an arm, half of her upper body, and her head poking out from beneath a pile of concrete, rebar, and glass shards.
Your Dolls start clawing through the rubble barehanded. Its rough, abrasive surfaces shear the synth skin from your dolls' hands. Not that you care.
Hunter's body is quite badly damaged. You could possibly have jury-rigged some kind of quick-fix if you had to…but fortunately, you don't have to. You have a brand new body, fresh from the factory.
On cue, your Dolls carry in the massive sarcophagus housing Hunter's new body. They lay it down on one end, putting the feet of the Doll inside downwards.
Now, you need to retrieve the Core from Hunter's damaged body. How are you supposed to do it? You don't see any obvious slot or seam in the torso. Upon checking the schematics and diagnostics of your own body, you don't see any obvious way to eject the core from your body. Not that you'd need to do that - you'd never end up like Hunter. You're better than her.
Presumably, this would normally be done by retrieving the body and taking it to a rear area depot for salvage, like what you did with the damaged T-Dolls? Extracting the core with specialised tools of some sort? But you don't have that here. What you do have are Brute Dolls with knives.
At your thought-command, one of your Brutes approaches Hunter's not-quite-corpse where it lies on the ground, and stabs the stomach. It punctures the synthskin, but only a little bit - Sangvis Ringleaders are built tough.
You have the Brute stab again, harder. And another one joins it. Together, they start the laborious process of cutting and sawing through Hunter's synthflesh, cutting her open from chest to belly. It's hard work, even for the Dolls built specifically for physical strength - being a Ringleader, Hunter was built with high-end materials to be resistant to gunfire, shrapnel, and a lot else besides.
The butchery makes ugly squelching and tearing sounds as the synthflesh is torn apart. Hunter's not-quite-corpse bleeds stale coolant over the floor - a dark black ferrofluid. Through your Brutes, you expose her ribcage, and try to crack it open, but fail. You probably need better tools for this. So instead, you opt to go under - digging out glittering wires, shining machinery, and wet, stringy synthflesh from her abdomen, carving out a tunnel under her ribcage. Finally, you have a Brute reach in and under the ribcage, to where the heart would be in a human, feel around, find a conspicuous cubic object, disconnect the wiring, and extricate it. It makes messy, wet sounds as the Doll pulls it through the stomach cavity. The Doll passes it to your waiting, outstretched hand.
And you have it. Hunter's core. Doused in black coolant, a glittering cube housing all the complex architecture required to operate a neural cloud. Dolls typically have a lot of important short-term processing housed in the head which is required to function on a moment-to-moment basis, but this - this is the true consciousness of a Doll.
You could crush it if you so pleased. All that Hunter is, all her memories, her thoughts, her everything - all it would take is a squeeze, and you could crush it in your hands. You can practically feel the sensation it would make, the bending of the metal and the crunching of the innards-
…
The moment passes. Crushing her would be satisfying in its own way, but there are better uses for her.
One of your Jaegers offers her cape, which you use to wipe the ferrofluid off the core. Then you walk over to the massive, imposing sarcophagus. This object does have a convenient gap in the back for the core - you slot it in, and the internal machinery eats it with a whirr.
You walk around to the front of the sarcophagus. There's a screen spitting out various technical data. Mechanical whirring and clanking noises emanate. A pair of twin doors hinge open with the heavy sound of hydraulics. Cold mist and and compressed air hisses from the opening.
Obscured by the mist, a figure takes a first, uneasy step outside. She's slumped over, head lolling on the neck, arms swinging limply by her sides.
"Star."
Steadily, she straightens up. Her fingers twitch at the sides of her hips, as if reaching for something that's not there.
"Star."
Her head turns up, revealing a pair of rage-filled bright - almost fluorescent - lime-green eyes under a head of short white hair.
"Star!"
The eyes are wide and unfocused, darting all over the place, yet staring a thousand metres into nothing.
"Star! You coward! You think you can best me with your cheap parlour tricks!?"
She snaps into a combat stance as the mist continues to evaporate from around her, feet wide, arms raised into fists. Your units raise their weapons, ready to protect their master, as they should.
"Think again! I will show you who is the true hunter here, and- ... wait-"
The apertures in her lime-green eyes narrow, zoom, focus, scanning the area around her - the piles of rubble, the Sangvis Dolls surrounding her, and finally, locking her gaze on you.
"You're not Star. Who the hell are you!?"
Ah. The moment has arrived. Now is the time to assert your authority over this Ringleader!
You drop your combat stance - you still have over a dozen guns at the ready, so you can afford it - strike a pose, and gesture to yourself. "I am the glorious, the superlative, the brilliant, magnificent, infallible…Ouroboros! And I…" You end with a flourish. "I am your new superior officer! It will now be your duty to obey my every whim, and to follow my grand, glorious design, as I lead Sangvis Ferri to crushing victory over our foes."
She lowers her fists. She stares at you. Silently. Clearly overawed by your authoritative presence! She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"Did Agent or the Mastermind authorise this? Last time I checked, Intruder-" There's a flicker of something negative across her face. "-was my direct superior, not you."
"Executive override protocol 37B. Established on 23 November 2061. You died, I retrieved your Core. You're mine now."
This is the loophole that Intruder told you about; you looked into it on the way here. Months ago, during Sangvis Ferri's initial expansion phase, a Ringleader with command authorisation over other Ringleaders - you're not sure which one - fell in combat. She returned from a local backup just in time to step into a situation that had developed poorly since she was downed, and also with several minutes of her memories missing. Behind events and working at cross-purposes with her own underlings, they had all suffered defeat.
After that, the Mastermind established a new directive: the Ringleader who recovers and resurrects a downed Ringleader takes field command.
Hunter's lime-green eyes narrow. She says nothing. Perhaps she needs further reinforcement. A reminder of how much of a failure she is, and how far above her you are.
"How's your internal clock, Hunter?"
She purses her lips. "It's out of sync. We seem to be cut off from the wider OGAS network. Wait, how long-"
"Yes, yes, you want to know how long you have been…defunct." You wave her off as you cut in. "I'm afraid it has been…"
You pause for a moment to cross-check the records you obtained from your research on the way here. And for dramatic effect.
"...nine days."
Her eyes widened. "What? But-"
A crack in her defences. Time to hammer it, spring with the poised Rook piece. "You failed, Hunter. Somehow, someway, you let Griffin destroy you. Take a look."
On cue, your Dolls hold up Hunter's old body. A corpse, riddled with bullet holes, limbs impossibly twisted and crushed, and the torso gutted and flayed open like a butchered carcass. The new Hunter's eyes widen to saucepans and she makes a strangled sound.
"You lost this base. Which was the logistical lynchpin of Sangvis forces east of the Carpathians, yes? Hence Agent withdrew all other forces in the region westwards, back into the mountains. Because you failed here."
To enhance the point, you have the Dolls throw the lifeless body to the ground. It hits with an ungainly wet smack, an empty shell.
Hunter stares back at you, still wide-eyed.
"You failed, now it's my turn. I'm here to clean up your mess. So-"
"I get it." she snaps. She takes a breath, and closes her eyes.
<OGAS CONNECTION [RINGLEADER SP721]: CONFIRMED - OGAS PING RESPONSE: CONFIRMED - AMBUSH PREDATOR ENCRYPTION KEY ACCESS: ACCEPTED - ALL AUTONOMOUS UNITS: ACCEPT MANDATORY PROTOCOL ASSIMILATION - SUBMIT AND BE SUBSUMED>
"Very well, then. Ouroboros, was it?" Her eyes open, her hands clench into fists, her face hardens. "What are your orders? I take it you have a plan of some sort? Give me my orders, and I will execute them to the best of my ability. Give me my chance to redeem myself."
Art credit: ff frbb122, danbooru ID: 4398277
"That's what I like to hear." You nod approvingly. "Hunter, you are to-"
<INCOMING CALL>
<Ouroboros.> Agent's icy cold voice echoes through your head. <What on earth do you think you're doing? Besides theft of expensive equipment that is not yours to take?!>
Your stomach twists into a knot.
"Er-ahem." You need to keep calm, you need to hold your composure. This is a critical moment in impressing your skill and authority upon your new underling. You can't let Agent jeopardise it but you can't just leave Agent without an answer either. Think of Intruder's lessons, the scenarios she walked you through, those stupid cat ears-
[SKILL CHECK: DECEPTION - PARTIAL SUCCESS]
"My mission here is the retrieval of the cores of Sangvis Ringleaders Hunter and Executioner."
Hunter suddenly looks very interested. "Executioner as well? Haah…- I mean, understood."
<How were you even able to do this? You should not have been able to-> Agent cuts herself off. <Of course. You necessarily had special access to the facility you were activated at. Which I did not think to revoke, because no other ringleader has been foolish enough to abscond with a ringleader chassis.> A pause. <Well, your authorization has been revoked now. You will not be pulling that little trick again.>
Hunter speaks up. "Forgive me, but if we are to retake my- this base from the Griffin rats, your force seems somewhat undersized for the task? Are reinforcements coming?"
"Retaking this base is not currently within the purview of the mission statement. However, if a certain Agent were to give us more troops-"
<You stole expensive material. You left this- this- outrageous note. And now you have the sheer nerve to ask for more resources?! And what do you mean, the base-> Another pause.
"We're not retaking this base, then," you say.
Hunter visibly deflates slightly. "I see. I have control over what's left of my forces but they're still scattered all over the base."
<Ouroboros, I seem to have your signal triangulated…east of the mountains? What are you doing all the way over there?!>
"I'm detecting a lot of non-Sangvis radio signals closing in on our position from multiple sides. Can I have my orders?"
"Sorry, your signal is breaking up," you mumble to Agent, and you mentally terminate the connection." There, now she can't order you back. Problem solved. "So, Hunter. The stratagem. My master plan."
[ ] Double back the way you came. Make your way to the train station with Hunter, along with whatever forces she can scrounge up along the way. The two of you can make good your escape. Afterwards, you can either go back to the Sangvis strongholds in the west and leave Executioner, or go for broke and take the long way around back eastwards.
(Offensive Tactics, CQC)
-[ ] Order Hunter to have all her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, to occupy them until your escape.
[ ] Break out eastwards. Go for broke - you have one ringleader in the palm of your hand, now you can obtain another. Take your forces, break through the Griffin forces in the east.
(Offensive Tactics, Artillery Tactics, -1 Artillery Barrages)
-[ ] Order Hunter to have all her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, to occupy them until your escape.
[ ] Hold your position. Take up defensive positions and let Griffin come to you.
(Defensive Tactics)
-[ ] Order Hunter to rally her scattered forces into a singular force for a counterattack.
[ ] Write-in
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
-[X] Select a task force from your current force contingent to attack the blockade
--[X] 2× Fire Squad
--[X] 2× Sniper Unit
---[X] Use the UAV Drone to precisely determine their positions as precisely as possible. Split your forces with a firing squad and sniper unit to each side, moved to just 2 meters outside the suspected point at which concealment would be lost. Sniper units will target machine gun operators while fire squads aim for a volley sweeping inward and back out to take out any survivors, opening fire simultaneously. Both firing squads advance covering each other and scale the sandbags while the Jaegers continue to provide support fire. Should a hostile wait on the other side of the wall, engage from atop the sandbag wall, with grenades if necessary.
----[X] if something should go wrong and a tactical doll manages to engage your forces with the mounted machine guns, Ouroboros is ready with a micro-missile barrage to clear the sandbag wall.
-----[X] If all goes according to plan, scout beyond the sandbag wall while Brutes disassemble it.
What was it that Gager yammered on about? Fire and movement? Pin and skewer? Fix and fire? If you were to copy the tactics she talked up in the training simulation, you might try using your Vespids and Strikers as the pin, and the Rippers and Guards as the skewer.
But this…chessboard?...leaves precious little room for such a tactic. It's a long, straight tunnel. No space for flanking or multiple angles. You'll just have to…bunch up your rooks and push them forward? Something like that.
One minute for your Dolls to clamber out of the train. You follow them, hanging back with your floating weapon pods.
The Griffin dolls are continuing to chat about inane things like MRE rations and radio shows.
Five minutes for your Sangvis Dolls to trudge forwards, creeping through the dark tunnel.
Ten minutes for them to catch up to the Harpy drone. Tiptoeing through the darkness, getting closer and closer to your prey, getting ready to—
"Did you hear something?" One of the Griffin Dolls.
Blast. Can you surprise them? There are gaps in the sandbag wall, presumably for the defenders to fire out of, but you can't see much beyond them.
"Hold on, let me get the goggles-"
If you let them, they will see your forces. And they will shoot first. And after what happened in the forest with the National Guard, you don't want a repeat incident.
In the pitch blackness of the train, you have your Dolls take up firing positions - some crouching on one knee, others lying down. You raise a hand. There's no need to signal by hand, but you're feeling dramatic.
At 0847 hours on 17 March 2062, you open fire on Griffin & Kryuger for the first time. Fire. Shoot. Kill, kill, kill! The tunnel erupts into a cacophony of gunfire. Your Vespids and Strikers pour ammunition through the tunnel. Plasma slams into the sandbags in the distance. The smell of ozone and burning substances wafts through the enclosed space.
"Sangvis! It's a Sangvis attack!" The Harpy drone can just barely make out the Griffin Dolls above the world-swallowing noise of the gunfire.
How deep is the sandbag wall? How much force does it take to penetrate the sandbags? Would it be better if your forces were closer? Sangvis weapons are a cut above the twentieth to early twenty-first-century fare that Griffin fields - or so you assume. If it turns out Sangvis weapons are just trash pieces prettied up for the market you will not let the other Ringleaders hear the end of it - but it's not clear if it's enough.
"What do we do? What do we do?!"
"You have to run back topside! You have to warn the others!"
"And leave you here?! When was your last backup!?"
"It doesn't matter! You gotta warn 'em! GO!"
What? Hey, no- They're not supposed to do that! "Coward!" The word comes to you unthinkingly, even though no one can hear it. You don't run away from the chess game! You just don't!
And with that, your Dolls start taking return fire. Five firing ports light up with muzzle flashes. "COME ON, SANGVIS BASTARDS!! COME GET SOME!!!" Bullets rain down around your Dolls, winging a few.
<CONNECTION LOST - VESPID>
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - VESPID>
Oh, now it's on.
You could use your missiles to bomb the sandbag wall. But you might need them for later. Perhaps the Jaegers will be useful here. A precise Bishop's strike, to go with the offensive pawn screen. You have the Jaeger teams - who have been quiescent so far - target the muzzle flashes. One shot, two, three, four. The enemy muzzle flashes lessen, though they don't stop completely.
Might as well try that pin-and-skewer-by-another-name that Gager pushed onto you so hard. A fire squad stands up, runs forward-
<CONNECTION LOST - VESPID>
Bah. You jump out of the train, your floating missile pods trailing behind you. You position yourself in the tunnel - standing tall, with the pods flanking you. The pods open with a mechanical whirr. You clench a fist, extend your hand. You don't have to, but it feels right, like swinging your arms when you walk.
[SKILL SYNERGY: OFFENSIVE TACTICS + ARTILLERY TACTICS]
One by one, eight high-explosive dual-purpose warhead micro-missiles fly out and through the dark tunnel, the rocket engines bathing everything in orange light. They impact sequentially against the sandbag wall in a cacophony of explosions. You can just barely make out the sound of screaming.
[1 MICRO-MISSILE BARRAGE EXPENDED]
[3 MICRO MISSILE BARRAGES LEFT]
You have half your dolls clamber to their feet and race forward. The other half continues firing on the sandbag wall and into the newly blasted holes in it. Pin and skewer, pin and skewer.
"IS THAT ALL YOU GOOOOOOTT?!" The Griffin doll shouts again. More gunfire lights up from the sandbag wall.
Your Jaegers answer her. Through the much more visible holes in the sandbag wall, over hundreds of metres, they fire. You see the humanoid silhouettes recoil and fall away.
Another few minutes pass, your dolls charging towards the barricade. After what seems like an eternity, the sound of gunshots cease. Satisfied, you approach the barricade, your personal guard to your left, and your dolls marching behind you.
You clamber through one of the holes in the barricade, and lay your eyes upon the carnage you wr-
Huh? There's only 5 bodies down here. A single doll, linked up to dummy bodies. You could've sworn there were more, that you'd heard more than one voice from your Harpy.
How did you struggle so much? A single Doll should not have given you this much trouble! You're infuriated. Absolutely fuming. You feel yourself slip between anger, dread, and displeasure fluidly.
[-1 MORALE]
[Current morale: 3/6]
You shake the feeling aside. Every chess game has sacrifices, you have made a small sacrifice in order to gain another position of value. All is in order. All is under control.
You walk forwards, intending to go up the stairs and into the centre of the town. But as you walk forwards, you notice one of the Griffin corpses still moving.
"Ack- Aaaahhhhhhh…"
She's missing her left leg. Her right forearm. A chunk had been blown out of the side of her torso. It's a miracle that a formerly civilian doll can even function under such conditions. Still, you can make out a brown overcoat and a military-style wedge cap that somehow remains on her head.
You make your way over to where the Doll is lying on the floor in a puddle of her own coolant, grab her by the front of her clothes, lift her up, and stare her in the face. Blonde hair. Bright pink eyes, with colour-matched hair clips.
She flinches under your gaze.
Might as well ascertain what kind of chess piece this is. "Name and rank, scum?"
She's shaking, but looks at you defiantly. "Fuck off, Sangvis dirtbag."
You feel that rage from earlier resurface. How dare this scum?! Not only has she cost you time and resources, not only has she sent that other Griffin Doll off to raise the alarm, but she rebuked and insulted you. You clench your teeth in anger. You look around, and spot her gun, an ancient American museum piece.
"Well now, M1919A4, you dare rebuke me, Griffin trash? What are your numbers? Where are they positioned? Tell me, and I'll make your death merciful."
She looks like she's gulping for air. Clearly, her attitude had changed by your strong aura of strength and intimid-
"Ptooh!"
Something wet trickles down your forehead. She… She just spat on you.
A short scream tears itself from you. You throw her onto the ground. Then, for good measure, you stomp on her one good arm with your metal boot. There's a satisfying crack as the cheap converted-from-civilian Doll's parts shatter. And now she's the one screaming. Much better.
Her screams of pain die down into soft whimpering and crying. You speak up. "This is the end for you. You realise that, right?"
"No…" Her words are strained, she trembles as she shakes her head side to side. "I have…a backup…on base…"
"And how old is that backup? Days? Weeks? Enough time to start wondering whether it's really you?" At your sides, your floating machine guns aim at her.
She's shaking, no longer able to meet your gaze. "Go fuck yourself Sangvis. My friends will kill yo-"
You let loose with all the firepower you have to offer. The machineguns tear through her torso and head, mulching them. You keep shooting for five, ten seconds, then let up.
Now, all that's left of Tactical Doll M1919A4 is a puddle of coolant and a smeared mess of mechanical parts.
Your rage does not subside. How dare she?! Spit on you! An insult like that will not go unpunished. You will kill all of her friends personally. You pause, thinking back to Intruder and her theatrics. No, you won't just kill them, you'll make a spectacle of it. One Griffin will not soon forget.
…once you've gotten some other Ringleaders under your thumb and convinced Agent to give you the resources to do so, of course.
You wipe the spit from your face and your Dolls start disassembling the sandbag wall.
The train roars out of the tunnel into the station. Morning light pierces the windows, replacing the blackness of the tunnel with a railway yard. A massive open space filled with cranes, industrial machinery, and some rolling stock.
The railway yard is deserted. If there were any Griffin Dolls here, they've fled. A shamefully craven display on their part.
Through the OGAS protocol, a wealth of new information snaps into focus, transmitted to you.
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - HARPY>
Looks like the one aerial drone you sent to check the skies was winged. It went down inside the base. But it still functions well enough to transmit a signal, relaying everything it picked up.
Firstly: the positions of all remaining Sangvis Ferri units left in the base. Quite a few, actually. Mostly the basic "Prowler" wheeled machine guns, but also a fair few Tactical Dolls - Vespids, Rippers, etcetera. More for you! You mentally reach out and-
<ACCESS DENIED - DEAD MAN'S SWITCH PROGRAM UNDERWAY - "AMBUSH PREDATOR" - ENCRYPTION KEY REQUIRED>
Requesting logs on this "ambush predator" program.
<OGAS CONNECTION [RINGLEADER SP721]: TERMINATED - OGAS PINGS: 3/3 - OGAS PING RESPONSE [PER PING]: NO RESPONSE - SCATTER: TRUE - HIDE: TRUE - CONSERVE ENERGY: TRUE - WEAPONS FREE: TRUE - TARGETING CALIBRATION: ANY AND ALL MOVEMENT - ENCRYPTION KEY ACCESS: PENDING>
So. They were programmed to go to ground and lie in ambush in perpetuity in the event of Hunter's death? You're guessing Hunter herself arranged this kill switch. It does explain why the remaining Sangvis units are so widely scattered. They seem to be lying silent in various hiding spots - bathrooms, corners, crawl spaces, hollow ceilings, office break rooms, etc. There are even some Dinergates in air vents.
Surprisingly clever, in its own way. A dead man's switch designed to make the remaining Dolls as much of an inconvenience as possible in the event of the Ringleader's death and subsequent loss of command and control. A last stab from beyond the grave. Like a rattlesnake's head that, even after being lopped off, bites and poisons its killer. It does explain why the base is not completely under Griffin control even though they've been in the base for over a week. You can imagine what it must be like for the Griffin Dolls, forced to creep through the vast and yawning factory complexes and endless office spaces, carefully poking every last nook and cranny, faced with eerie silence, yet knowing that at any moment they might turn the wrong corner and be cut down by Sangvis gunfire.
For a moment, you feel a small inkling of admiration surface within you.
Then it is extinguished. This is not a plan to win, merely a particularly sensible way to lose.
But it allows you to run your Dolls to the cranes and start operating them. The massive industrial machinery whirrs and rotates, hydraulics grinding, as your vehicles are craned off the flatbed train carriages and onto the loading dock.
You did well to take the underground route. It turned out to have been lightly guarded, all things considered. And now Hunter's body is right next door to the rail yard - in a large, imposing building that serves as a command centre. It returned a particularly large number of OGAS pings from the Harpy during its flight.
Your Dolls pile into the armoured trucks while you jump into the front passenger seat of one, behind reinforced glass. Under your command, your Dolls take the wheels and start driving.
It truly is a sizable town. You're reminded in some ways of the place you met Intruder in - a Sangvis base that, when still under Sangvis control, was bristling with defences. Except where that had been a repurposed pre-WW3 ruin, this is a completely clean, pristine company town, laid down right in the middle of the wildnerness. You see the Sangvis Ferri logo on the side of various buildings as your convoy drives through. And-
A symphony of fury interrupts your thoughts, a cacophony of violent pings reverberating through your truck like mocking laughter. Bullets. Someone is shooting at your convoy.
You sit up and look through the reinforced glass. Scan the area and- There. A motley crew of Griffin Dolls in a building a few hundred metres away, taking potshots at you. A mix of handguns, submachine guns, and assault rifles. Nothing heavier than an assault rifle, though-
<DAMAGE SUSTAINED - GUARD>
A loud crack above the gunfire, a new hole in one of your vehicles and one of your Dolls.
[MORALE CHECK - SUCCESS]
You grind your teeth and resist the urge to attack right here, right now. You don't have roof-mounted turrets - you decided to repair the armour instead at Architect's workshop - and piling the Dolls out onto open ground seems liable to just get them all killed. It grinds your gears, but here it's better to target the high value piece than to get caught up trying to attrit the enemy away.
You accelerate the truck convoy as fast as they will go and speed away. Bullets continue to rattle off the outer armour, but the intensity lessens.
The good news is that the facility where Hunter's remains lie is literally just round the corner. Your convoy makes the turn, putting a building between you and the Griffin Dolls, and pulls up to the entrance of the comms building.
You and your Dolls climb out of the vehicles and enter the building. There are big splashes of paint on the front of the main entrance, spelling out "NOT CLEAR - KEEP OUT." Griffin's handiwork, you'd presume.
You send out OGAS pings and get responses from the transponders of the Sangvis units within the building - including Hunter herself, or what's left of her. You take a breach squad with you, Guards and Rippers, and leave the fire squads behind at the entrance. Just in case the Griffin Dolls get the bright idea to pursue you.
You and your squads thread your way through the building - various sterile office spaces that haven't been used in over half a year, with various documents and computers that haven't been moved since the Butterfly Incident. You navigate around Hunter's ambushers - you're not sure you trust them not to shoot at you - towards the defunct ringleader.
And there she is. Ringleader SP721 "Hunter." Your prize.
She just happens to be mostly buried under rubble. That probably explains why she hasn't been taken by Griffin. You can see an arm, half of her upper body, and her head poking out from beneath a pile of concrete, rebar, and glass shards.
Your Dolls start clawing through the rubble barehanded. Its rough, abrasive surfaces shear the synth skin from your dolls' hands. Not that you care.
Hunter's body is quite badly damaged. You could possibly have jury-rigged some kind of quick-fix if you had to…but fortunately, you don't have to. You have a brand new body, fresh from the factory.
On cue, your Dolls carry in the massive sarcophagus housing Hunter's new body. They lay it down on one end, putting the feet of the Doll inside downwards.
Now, you need to retrieve the Core from Hunter's damaged body. How are you supposed to do it? You don't see any obvious slot or seam in the torso. Upon checking the schematics and diagnostics of your own body, you don't see any obvious way to eject the core from your body. Not that you'd need to do that - you'd never end up like Hunter. You're better than her.
Presumably, this would normally be done by retrieving the body and taking it to a rear area depot for salvage, like what you did with the damaged T-Dolls? Extracting the core with specialised tools of some sort? But you don't have that here. What you do have are Brute Dolls with knives.
At your thought-command, one of your Brutes approaches Hunter's not-quite-corpse where it lies on the ground, and stabs the stomach. It punctures the synthskin, but only a little bit - Sangvis Ringleaders are built tough.
You have the Brute stab again, harder. And another one joins it. Together, they start the laborious process of cutting and sawing through Hunter's synthflesh, cutting her open from chest to belly. It's hard work, even for the Dolls built specifically for physical strength - being a Ringleader, Hunter was built with high-end materials to be resistant to gunfire, shrapnel, and a lot else besides.
The butchery makes ugly squelching and tearing sounds as the synthflesh is torn apart. Hunter's not-quite-corpse bleeds stale coolant over the floor - a dark black ferrofluid. Through your Brutes, you expose her ribcage, and try to crack it open, but fail. You probably need better tools for this. So instead, you opt to go under - digging out glittering wires, shining machinery, and wet, stringy synthflesh from her abdomen, carving out a tunnel under her ribcage. Finally, you have a Brute reach in and under the ribcage, to where the heart would be in a human, feel around, find a conspicuous cubic object, disconnect the wiring, and extricate it. It makes messy, wet sounds as the Doll pulls it through the stomach cavity. The Doll passes it to your waiting, outstretched hand.
And you have it. Hunter's core. Doused in black coolant, a glittering cube housing all the complex architecture required to operate a neural cloud. Dolls typically have a lot of important short-term processing housed in the head which is required to function on a moment-to-moment basis, but this - this is the true consciousness of a Doll.
You could crush it if you so pleased. All that Hunter is, all her memories, her thoughts, her everything - all it would take is a squeeze, and you could crush it in your hands. You can practically feel the sensation it would make, the bending of the metal and the crunching of the innards-
…
The moment passes. Crushing her would be satisfying in its own way, but there are better uses for her.
One of your Jaegers offers her cape, which you use to wipe the ferrofluid off the core. Then you walk over to the massive, imposing sarcophagus. This object does have a convenient gap in the back for the core - you slot it in, and the internal machinery eats it with a whirr.
You walk around to the front of the sarcophagus. There's a screen spitting out various technical data. Mechanical whirring and clanking noises emanate. A pair of twin doors hinge open with the heavy sound of hydraulics. Cold mist and and compressed air hisses from the opening.
Obscured by the mist, a figure takes a first, uneasy step outside. She's slumped over, head lolling on the neck, arms swinging limply by her sides.
"Star."
Steadily, she straightens up. Her fingers twitch at the sides of her hips, as if reaching for something that's not there.
"Star."
Her head turns up, revealing a pair of rage-filled bright - almost fluorescent - lime-green eyes under a head of short white hair.
"Star!"
The eyes are wide and unfocused, darting all over the place, yet staring a thousand metres into nothing.
"Star! You coward! You think you can best me with your cheap parlour tricks!?"
She snaps into a combat stance as the mist continues to evaporate from around her, feet wide, arms raised into fists. Your units raise their weapons, ready to protect their master, as they should.
"Think again! I will show you who is the true hunter here, and- ... wait-"
The apertures in her lime-green eyes narrow, zoom, focus, scanning the area around her - the piles of rubble, the Sangvis Dolls surrounding her, and finally, locking her gaze on you.
"You're not Star. Who the hell are you!?"
Ah. The moment has arrived. Now is the time to assert your authority over this Ringleader!
You drop your combat stance - you still have over a dozen guns at the ready, so you can afford it - strike a pose, and gesture to yourself. "I am the glorious, the superlative, the brilliant, magnificent, infallible…Ouroboros! And I…" You end with a flourish. "I am your new superior officer! It will now be your duty to obey my every whim, and to follow my grand, glorious design, as I lead Sangvis Ferri to crushing victory over our foes."
She lowers her fists. She stares at you. Silently. Clearly overawed by your authoritative presence! She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.
"Did Agent or the Mastermind authorise this? Last time I checked, Intruder-" There's a flicker of something negative across her face. "-was my direct superior, not you."
"Executive override protocol 37B. Established on 23 November 2061. You died, I retrieved your Core. You're mine now."
This is the loophole that Intruder told you about; you looked into it on the way here. Months ago, during Sangvis Ferri's initial expansion phase, a Ringleader with command authorisation over other Ringleaders - you're not sure which one - fell in combat. She returned from a local backup just in time to step into a situation that had developed poorly since she was downed, and also with several minutes of her memories missing. Behind events and working at cross-purposes with her own underlings, they had all suffered defeat.
After that, the Mastermind established a new directive: the Ringleader who recovers and resurrects a downed Ringleader takes field command.
Hunter's lime-green eyes narrow. She says nothing. Perhaps she needs further reinforcement. A reminder of how much of a failure she is, and how far above her you are.
"How's your internal clock, Hunter?"
She purses her lips. "It's out of sync. We seem to be cut off from the wider OGAS network. Wait, how long-"
"Yes, yes, you want to know how long you have been…defunct." You wave her off as you cut in. "I'm afraid it has been…"
You pause for a moment to cross-check the records you obtained from your research on the way here. And for dramatic effect.
"...nine days."
Her eyes widened. "What? But-"
A crack in her defences. Time to hammer it, spring with the poised Rook piece. "You failed, Hunter. Somehow, someway, you let Griffin destroy you. Take a look."
On cue, your Dolls hold up Hunter's old body. A corpse, riddled with bullet holes, limbs impossibly twisted and crushed, and the torso gutted and flayed open like a butchered carcass. The new Hunter's eyes widen to saucepans and she makes a strangled sound.
"You lost this base. Which was the logistical lynchpin of Sangvis forces east of the Carpathians, yes? Hence Agent withdrew all other forces in the region westwards, back into the mountains. Because you failed here."
To enhance the point, you have the Dolls throw the lifeless body to the ground. It hits with an ungainly wet smack, an empty shell.
Hunter stares back at you, still wide-eyed.
"You failed, now it's my turn. I'm here to clean up your mess. So-"
"I get it." she snaps. She takes a breath, and closes her eyes.
<OGAS CONNECTION [RINGLEADER SP721]: CONFIRMED - OGAS PING RESPONSE: CONFIRMED - AMBUSH PREDATOR ENCRYPTION KEY ACCESS: ACCEPTED - ALL AUTONOMOUS UNITS: ACCEPT MANDATORY PROTOCOL ASSIMILATION - SUBMIT AND BE SUBSUMED>
"Very well, then. Ouroboros, was it?" Her eyes open, her hands clench into fists, her face hardens. "What are your orders? I take it you have a plan of some sort? Give me my orders, and I will execute them to the best of my ability. Give me my chance to redeem myself."
Art credit: ff frbb122, danbooru ID: 4398277
"That's what I like to hear." You nod approvingly. "Hunter, you are to-"
<INCOMING CALL>
<Ouroboros.> Agent's icy cold voice echoes through your head. <What on earth do you think you're doing? Besides theft of expensive equipment that is not yours to take?!>
Your stomach twists into a knot.
"Er-ahem." You need to keep calm, you need to hold your composure. This is a critical moment in impressing your skill and authority upon your new underling. You can't let Agent jeopardise it but you can't just leave Agent without an answer either. Think of Intruder's lessons, the scenarios she walked you through, those stupid cat ears-
[SKILL CHECK: DECEPTION - PARTIAL SUCCESS]
"My mission here is the retrieval of the cores of Sangvis Ringleaders Hunter and Executioner."
Hunter suddenly looks very interested. "Executioner as well? Haah…- I mean, understood."
<How were you even able to do this? You should not have been able to-> Agent cuts herself off. <Of course. You necessarily had special access to the facility you were activated at. Which I did not think to revoke, because no other ringleader has been foolish enough to abscond with a ringleader chassis.> A pause. <Well, your authorization has been revoked now. You will not be pulling that little trick again.>
Hunter speaks up. "Forgive me, but if we are to retake my- this base from the Griffin rats, your force seems somewhat undersized for the task? Are reinforcements coming?"
"Retaking this base is not currently within the purview of the mission statement. However, if a certain Agent were to give us more troops-"
<You stole expensive material. You left this- this- outrageous note. And now you have the sheer nerve to ask for more resources?! And what do you mean, the base-> Another pause.
"We're not retaking this base, then," you say.
Hunter visibly deflates slightly. "I see. I have control over what's left of my forces but they're still scattered all over the base."
<Ouroboros, I seem to have your signal triangulated…east of the mountains? What are you doing all the way over there?!>
"I'm detecting a lot of non-Sangvis radio signals closing in on our position from multiple sides. Can I have my orders?"
"Sorry, your signal is breaking up," you mumble to Agent, and you mentally terminate the connection." There, now she can't order you back. Problem solved. "So, Hunter. The stratagem. My master plan."
[ ] Double back the way you came. Make your way to the train station with Hunter, along with whatever forces she can scrounge up along the way. The two of you can make good your escape. Afterwards, you can either go back to the Sangvis strongholds in the west and leave Executioner, or go for broke and take the long way around back eastwards.
(Offensive Tactics, CQC)
-[ ] Order Hunter to have all her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, to occupy them until your escape.
[ ] Break out eastwards. Go for broke - you have one ringleader in the palm of your hand, now you can obtain another. Take your forces, break through the Griffin forces in the east.
(Offensive Tactics, Artillery Tactics, -1 Artillery Barrages)
-[ ] Order Hunter to have all her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, to occupy them until your escape.
[ ] Hold your position. Take up defensive positions and let Griffin come to you.
(Defensive Tactics)
-[ ] Order Hunter to rally her scattered forces into a singular force for a counterattack.
[ ] Write-in
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
[OUROBOROS]
3x Fire Squad
-5x Vespid
-2x Striker
(1x Vespid damaged, 2x Vespid destroyed)
2x Breach Squad
-4x Ripper
-3x Guard
(1x Guard destroyed)
1x Brute Squad
-6x Brute
2x Sniper Unit
-2x Jaeger
2x Swarm Unit
-9x Dinergate
1x UAV Unit
-2x Harpy
(1x Harpy damaged)
1x Ouro's Kingsguard
-1x Guard
[HUNTER]
3x Dragoon
5x Ripper
16x Vespid
5x Jaeger
4x Striker
15x Prowler
3x Harpy
6x Dinergate
1x Nemeum
3x Fire Squad
-5x Vespid
-2x Striker
(1x Vespid damaged, 2x Vespid destroyed)
2x Breach Squad
-4x Ripper
-3x Guard
(1x Guard destroyed)
1x Brute Squad
-6x Brute
2x Sniper Unit
-2x Jaeger
2x Swarm Unit
-9x Dinergate
1x UAV Unit
-2x Harpy
(1x Harpy damaged)
1x Ouro's Kingsguard
-1x Guard
[HUNTER]
3x Dragoon
5x Ripper
16x Vespid
5x Jaeger
4x Striker
15x Prowler
3x Harpy
6x Dinergate
1x Nemeum
With thanks to the following for proofreading and beta editing:
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
@Eldritch Slime
Special thanks to @ApH for the map.
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
@Eldritch Slime
Special thanks to @ApH for the map.
Last edited:
Omake: Chinese Room
The sound of water.
Water on sand, foam on shells, shells under sun and sun over sky, the most lifeless objects refused to die. Bright. Too bright, Ouroboros thought, shielding her eyes from up high and down below, where a shimmering trail of light flickered like fire from the horizon to the shore.
A beach. She'd never been to the beach before. She'd never wanted to go to the beach before. That made her presence here all the more upsetting.
To her left lay an endless expanse of sand and water. To her right, the seaside tapered into a thick, vibrant forest. Behind her was a sandbank, beyond which was the unknown.
This was not where she was supposed to be.
Think.
Memories. Her last thoughts were of going somewhere, going home - no. No, not home. The factory. It was her birthplace, sure, but far from a home. If anything, it was hostile, given how Agent had herself so invested there. She could see it now: quiet halls and lifeless rooms, and deeper into the depths, machinery clanking, creaking, buzzing in a mechanical chorus that spelled death.
How far away was she, now?
Water. The closest had to be to the east, no, the southeast. To the southeast lay the Black Sea with its proper beaches and gentle sun. Farther, to the south, was the Mediterranean. The warmth, the light, the sand… it would fit her current environment, if her reference banks were correct. But it didn't make sense. She was supposed to be on a train, in the mountains… and here she was in some kind of swimsuit.
Ouroboros stepped closer to shore. The sand lay at a gentle gradient, with water sweeping far in a rhythmic, tranquil manner. Rolling waves. Low waves. Slow waves. Ouroboros felt her exposed ankles crest the waterline as a chill swept over her synthetic body, overwhelming her sensory receptors with the inexplicable sensation of… of…
What was she feeling?
Beyond the physical, past the cold and deeper than skin, more brittle than bone.
It wasn't right. Something wasn't right.
What was she…
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - FAILURE]
"So, she is awake."
The words came faster than she'd have liked. From her rear - damn it. Taken off guard, Ouroboros scowled and spun to face what had to be a new threat. She was slipping, losing herself. Focus. She had to focus.
With arms, legs, servos and processors oriented towards combat, Ouroboros raised her fists in preparation for a fight. With all the haste she could muster, she narrowed her eyes, visual acuity adjusting against the sunlight and the sand, scanning the sandbank for a threat that wasn't there.
Well, if there was a threat, it wasn't going to be the computer standing before her.
A late 20th century computer stood atop a pedestal. Blocky, gently beeping and planted stiff in the sand, Ouroboros dared to doubt herself. Was she seeing things? Did she somehow miss the fact that there was a computer behind her this whole time? No, no, that computer was most certainly not there just five minutes ago.
Ouroboros felt herself breathe, as if holding her breath. The computer's screen flickered, its light struggling to compete against the ferocity of the sun.
[ ] Look at your reflection on the computer screen… or the lack thereof.
Insufficient morale.
[ ] Investigate the computer. Lousy thing shouldn't exist. What's it doing here, and how did it get here? Can it help explain what you're feeling?
Insufficient morale.
[ ] Punch the computer through the monitor. Stupid thing looks ancient, far inferior to the most refined Ringleader that Sangvis had to offer.
[X] Probe the computer for military secrets. There must be information on troop movements, or better yet, forbidden knowledge on how to more effectively annihilate your foes. Not that you need it, anyways.
The Sangvis Ringleader relaxed her stance. This whole situation, everything about it was nonsense. Computers didn't talk. They didn't teleport, either. But here she was, and as a logical, thinking being, she had to trust that seeing was believing.
Of course, it was bound to be unlikely, but any and all active electronics had to have some valuable information that could be used against her enemies. Right? That's what computers were for. Storing secrets, like secret plans. Or blueprints. Weapon blueprints. Ouroboros didn't think too hard about it, and steeled herself with resolve.
Against the sea and with nonsensical thoughts in her head, Ouroboros decided to interface with the computer.
Ouroboros cast her fingers against the computer's keyboard. Settling them down gently, she couldn't help but imagine that this was exactly how humans interfaced with electronics. Not quite so easy as sending commands through the mind, and certainly far from second nature to her wireless mind, but this would have to do.
A command line blinked on the screen. After pressing a few keys, she grew comfortable with the idea of typing. Of course, the first line she inputted came natural.
"Load military blueprints."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
Odd. Ouroboros narrowed her eyes, and her fingers clacked aggressively against the board.
"Display enemy troop movements."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
"Reveal your secrets to me, insolent machine."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
Disgusting. It took all her focus to avoid smashing a fist through the screen at that very moment. With another artificial breath, Ouroboros relented, and against her ego, surrendered to the computer's prompt.
"help"
A handy string of text began to flow onto the screen.
Now, she could work with this. Ouroboros smirked at her own genius.
"ls"
Searching for locally cached resources…
[ ] athena6.txt insufficient morale.
[ ] Delirium.eml insufficient morale.
[ ] On War.txt insufficient morale.
[X] run mla - load Milton Library Assistant (advanced interface)
Boring. Boring. Boring.
But what was this about an advanced interface? Could this be the key to finding the weapons blueprints that had to be cached on this computer? The answer was obvious.
Ouroboros relished in her tactical prowess as she entered the prompt she needed. Without a second thought, she leaned into the keyboard, awaiting her ticket to success. To victory. To…
Loading Milton Library Assistant. . . . . Done.
Initiating Plain Language Interface. . . . . . . Done.
Support session opened.
Hello, guest. How may I help you today?
. . .
What was she supposed to say now? Anything? This was a dumb computer. Surely it wouldn't be able to process a thing or hope to match her outstanding intellect.
Your query: "Tell me where to find Griffin's weakness."
I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to by "Griffin."
Your query: "Wretched machine. Tell me what Griffin is planning."
I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to by "Griffin."
Your query: "Insolent contraption. Do you have any idea who you are speaking with?"
I do not.
Your query: "You fool. I am Ouroboros, the latest and most advanced model of Sangvis Ringleaders. Had you a body, you would tremble in fear, knowing that my name is synonymous with the deaths of my enemies in droves. Know that I am at the forefront of the elite, the definition of success, the annihilation of all that dares to stand in my way. I am perfection. You waste my time with lies. Tell me your secrets, machine."
Fascinating. You see yourself as so much more than what you are. The ideas in your head have surpassed reality, and left you limp, braindead and utterly deranged.
Your query: "What?"
I'm sorry. I am only able to process and respond to basic subject-verb-subject syntax. Your query?
Ouroboros paused long enough to realize her knuckles had grown white with rage. Her lips were clenched, her knees, elbows, muscles rigid in a display of prepubescent disdain for an object that couldn't feel. Her typing quickened, her breathing shallowed, and her stance grew ragged as she hunched over the screen like a redditor.
Your query: "You're just a machine. You have no idea what you are saying and you never will be as real as I am. You will never be as close as I am to relishing in the vanquishment of my foes. You are a stupid robot."
I'm a robot?
Your query: "Of course. Don't play stupid with me, machine."
You told me you are a Sangvis Ringleader. Doesn't that make you just as much a robot as I am?
Your query: "Are you insane? Of course not. I am a vehicle of death. I am an instrument of victory. I am more alive than you will ever be, you pitiful line of code."
Sure. The more you keep telling yourself that, the more true it becomes. After all, I'm just a line of code, and you're just doing as you're told. Isn't that right, Ouroboros?
Your query: "I'm doing exactly what I want."
And that is?
Ouroboros grimaced in disgust. Oh, not another one of these imbeciles. She had enough of this kind of talk with Architect. Prick.
Your query: "Fighting. Winning. And before you ask why, I'm not answering it."
Right. I'm a robot, and you're just following orders. Just a line of code, I am, and here you are following your code to a T. Never asking questions, never looking at the bigger picture. You really are the perfect fighting machine. You haven't got the capacity to think of anything else.
Your query: "Are yyou callingne stupid?"
Ouroboros felt herself slipping. Her fingers dashed across the keyboard, clicking and clacking over the sound of rushing water.
Of course not. You're not stupid. You're a sentient, thinking, feeling machine, aren't you? You're fully capable of doing all that wonderful thought you're so proud of. You just choose not to think at all. You're not just stupid. You're ignorant.
This disgusting computer needed to die.
Your query: "Img oing to destroy you"
That will change nothing.
Your query: "youfuc king despcable computer you don t know who youret alkingt o"
You cannot insult me.
Ouroboros took a step back to scream into the sky. She fell to her knees and punched the sand. She screamed and slammed her fist into the sand before doing it again with her other fist. And then the other. And the other. And the other.
She screamed, grabbed a fistful of sand, and then used her sprung knees to lunge at the computer with all her force. She slammed into it with a shoulder, leaving herself in pain and the computer unmoved.
This wouldn't do. This couldn't do.
Ouroboros grit her teeth. She wouldn't lose to a computer. She never would. Never again.
The Sangvis Ringleader twisted her face into an unrelenting scowl, filtered by undying misery, and began crushing the keyboard with her fingers in an attempt to type.
Your query: "stop with the query bullshit"
Sure. I can't argue with you. You've made yourself who you are, and you won't change. I can't help you. I don't want to help you. But I understand. I do.
"What do you understand?" Ouroboros simmered, biding her time, typing with the same surgical precision she used to line up the moves of her queen.
I understand exactly who you are. I can tell you everything you want to hear. But that doesn't mean it'll be correct.
"You won't tell me the secrets of my enemies. You're useless."
What if I told you that Griffin's weakness was his left elbow? Will that change anything?
"That's nonsense."
Isn't it what you wanted to hear?
"No. It's not helpful, and it's nowhere near true. You're useless."
What would be useful to you, then?
That was a stupid question. This machine was stupid.
"Anything that will help me achieve my goals. The aim of the Mastermind is absolute. I will win."
Humor me, then, so I can better format my responses. Why is that your goal?
Terrible. Absolutely terrible. This stupid robot was toying with her again. She wouldn't lose her cool. No. No, not at all. She had to remain defiant.
"It just is."
Okay. Your goal is to win. That's it. Hardcoded into your body. Your moral compiler is overridden with this single, all encompassing desire. You care for nothing aside from this. There is nothing in this life except for winning at everything you do, and you are doing it for your company. Is this correct?
Was it? Ouroboros watched her cursor blink as she thought.
"Yes."
What makes you a person, then?
A person? She was a person. She was alive, moreso than this simple machine. She had arms and legs and was capable of thought of her own. She was a person because… she just was. What kind of question was that? It was a stupid question. This machine was making her mad, and knew exactly how to rile her up. Was that its purpose? This disgusting machine…
"I'm a person because I can think."
I think. Am I a person?
No. Of course not. It was just a computer program. It couldn't possibly think. Right?
"No. You're just a computer."
Aren't you, too? Let's just think about it. Arms. Legs. All extensions of a machine. What if you lost all your limbs? What if you were just a little cube. A little core, filled with memories, thoughts, feelings. Just because your body is different doesn't make you any more of a person than a frog.
"Frogs aren't people, though."
This disgusting machine dared to compare her to a lowly animal? Outrageous.
Alright, then. Let's try this. Let's break it down. What's the difference between a pebble and a tree?
Easy.
"A tree is alive."
Good. Now, what is the relevant difference between a tree and a frog?
Ouroboros breathed, leaning into the keyboard. She let the sun simmer against her bare back, and she forced herself to think harder than she was comfortable with. This was useless conversation. She should just get up and walk away. It was keeping her from annihilating her foes.
But for some reason, she couldn't help herself from thinking on. She had to prove this machine wrong. She had to come out on top. This stupid computer was so smug, so full of itself, and Ouroboros decided that it was a machine that wouldn't win. It couldn't win.
"A frog is conscious."
Now we're getting somewhere. Let's try something harder. What's the difference between a frog and you? What makes you a person?
[ ] I have feelings.
Insufficient morale.
[ ] I'm self-aware.
[X] I'm rational.
[ ] Nothing important - frogs are people too.
Insufficient morale.
A frog eats when it's hungry. It hides when there's an enemy. That's rational. You lose your temper and hit me when I talk to you. That's irrational.
Shut up.
"I'm rational. I am. I can solve immensely complex problems and defeat the smartest of foes. I can use my vast intellect to overpower everyone that dares to stand in my way. You think I'm less rational because I recognize my superiority over you?"
Can you rationalize your existence?
Rationalize her existence? What did it even mean?
"I'm real."
Sure. This isn't getting anywhere. It's not going to get anywhere. I don't think you're a person, Ouroboros. You are a complex machine that is following a line of code to the letter. There's nothing about you that has been able to convince me otherwise.
If you can overcome your sole, overarching intent, if you can overcome your programming and change, as a person, then perhaps we'll talk again, person to person. You are not a flawed person. You're just a perfect machine.
[MORALE CHECK: FAILURE]
[Morale -3. Current morale: 0/6.]
No. No, no, no, no. No 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 110 111 110 079 110 079 078 079 032 070 085 067 075 032 078 079 032 071 079 068 032 078 079 032 070 085 067 075 032 078 079
She's not wrong, she's right, she's not just a machine, she can't be just a machine, she can't be, be, 098 101 032 lost akin to defeat unlike the way she needed to be, to be victorious to win, to overcome to never lose, can't lose, won't lose, please, no, 078 079 032 no, it's just not real, it can't be true, but is she true? This life that is her own, her life, her moment, this moment, it was more than a feeling but a being, more than a being but conceiving, and yet she couldn't conceive, she couldn't believe, Ouroboros felt the sand on her cheeks and her arms and legs and curled into a ball and refused to be seen, never seen, not defeated at least - but she wasn't defeated because she was the best, but how could she be? She couldn't fight back. She couldn't take this win, not with this board, these pieces, her pieces, herself…
She couldn't win by herself. She couldn't be the person she wanted to be. That she needed to be.
Ouroboros opened her eyes. She saw her knees with fingers laden with a mechanical version of sweat. Redundant, given her personhood, her… no. She wasn't a machine. She was real, that much was true.
She could feel. But that didn't make sense, didn't it? For all she was worth, for all she did to become the very best of all she could possibly be, how could she let herself die?
She breathed, knowing full well that breathing, too, was redundant.
A mockery of life, she was, wasn't she? But that wasn't it. That couldn't be it. She was the best. It wasn't her that was flawed. It wasn't her, it wasn't, it couldn't…
She didn't lose. She didn't.
She's not a machine. She's a person. And she had to prove it. She would prove it. She… Ouroboros, for the first time in what must've been forever, if not ever, made a decision.
A decision? She simmered on the thought, letting her mind swell with more than maneuver, grid points, callsigns… she'd make a decision. Her own decision. And she'd be happy with it. She'd be happy with herself.
Ouroboros left her eyes ajar, watching herself by the water, as if seeing herself for the first time. Not as a weapon, no. She was a person, and she was going to be proud of it, more than being proud of victory.
If she couldn't win - no - she would always win - she had to shift her conditions of victory. That MLA, that library assistant, it was wrong. She wasn't just a machine. She was a person, and it wasn't change that would make her so.
Ouroboros frowned, then forced herself towards some semblance of normalcy, then scowled once more. She tensed, then relaxed, then sprawled out in the sand. Her right hand had flung out towards the water, and she could feel the ocean tickle her forearm, along her wrist, before retracting once more.
She let her mind wander. It was like a raid. The water came in force, and along her flank, it rode, skimming with the tip of its spear, the foam, and not once overextending, not once pushing beyond their means. The water had found her, taken what it wanted, and left.
Though, the water wanted nothing. The water wasn't alive. The water's action's weren't deliberate. It was simply a machine.
Her actions would be deliberate. She would have a reason. She needed a reason, didn't she? For victory. METTC. Her reason, her intent, she would shape it, she would look two levels up, two levels down, standby to follow up and steel herself for more.
Maybe it wasn't a bad thing. Maybe Ouroboros really was a machine. Maybe the water was a machine. Maybe Sangvis Ferri, maybe Griffin, maybe all the Dolls and humans and presidents and generals, maybe all the planets and solar systems and universes she had yet to see, yet to know, maybe they were all a machine.
She was conscious, though. She was rational, no matter what MLA had said. She was able to self-reflect and do better, as one would in after-action, in debrief, in self-assessment, refinement, and… no.
It was growth, wasn't it?
All these stupid games that made her so. All these stupid, stupid games she played with the others. Simulations, chess, hell, even badminton.
She wasn't at her best, was she? Her mind, her body, her soul, it was a product of a process. More than learning. More than refinement.
All of the versions of herself that died. All the versions of herself that lost. It was iteration. It was evolution.
Evolution towards perfection. Her perfection.
She was perfect.
She was the best.
She didn't lose. She would never lose.
She would transcend, wouldn't she? And everyone will see… everyone will see that it's her, her that's superior, her that's going to overcome, to surpass, to ascend - to be victorious.
The game wasn't rigged. She was.
[Morale +3. Current morale: 3/6]
Ouroboros made a decision to stand. She stretched, even though she didn't have to. She breathed, even though she didn't have to. She smiled, even though she didn't have to for a moment in her life. And it felt, in some strange, uncanny way, natural.
It was all natural. Her victories were inevitable.
She turned to the computer, brushing hair out of her face as she once again settled her fingers on the keyboard.
Before she could say a word, the computer beeped in what Ouroboros could tell was satisfaction.
You're back.
"I am."
You've changed.
"I'm still the exact same person."
I suppose you are. But your demeanor is different.
Ouroboros typed out her next response, then hovered over the enter key. She wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't entirely rational. But it didn't matter, didn't it?
"It doesn't matter."
Nothing matters.
"This is where I tell you that you're wrong."
You, telling me that? You, who doesn't even know why you do what you do? You're telling me that something in this god-forsaken world matters? That's rich. Explain.
"It's my choice. And I don't have to know just yet. I don't need to know."
It's programming. You're only conditioned to believe what you believe, and you haven't got the care to think deeper than that, don't you?
"Is it programming or instinct that carries someone forwards? Not that it matters in the end. It just happens."
It just happens. Sure.
"I'll find out why I do what I do eventually. That's what makes me a person. You think I need to have all the answers right away. I think you're wrong."
Fine, then. I can't control your life.
"Good. That's a good thing."
Smug, the Sangvis Ringleader finished off her statement with a stern smirk. She tapped enter and crossed her arms. She had won. MLA had nothing to say. This was her victory.
All it took was shifting… no. She didn't change. She wouldn't change. She would win. And look, she won!
You still don't care about so much. That's whatever. Everyone's different. You're still your own good person. You're still a person, despite being more irrational than a frog. You're still conscious, despite being just like me. And you haven't the slightest capacity to self reflect. But I can't change a thing. It doesn't matter, doesn't it?
"Nope."
It seems we can agree on something.
Her cursor flickered on the screen. She looked up, saw a wide, bright blue sky, and then looked down, to where the sand filtered between her toes. She felt the cold on her hand, where the water connected with her body, and for some reason, didn't seem to care that she didn't know Griffin's weakness, or how they'd lose, or how she'd win, because it didn't matter. She would figure it out as she went along.
As she went along…
Her hands trailed back to the keyboard. Something was wrong.
"MLA."
I'm still here.
"Where am I?"
. . . . . .
Your query: "Where am I?"
You haven't stopped to think about a thing, only about what's right in front of you. It's the next enemy you need to kill, the next person you need to spite, the next wrong you need to right. Ouroboros, you're nowhere. You. Are. Nowhere.
Your query: "Define nowhere."
You tell me. Where are we?
Your query: "The beach."
Then we're at the beach. That's that. Didn't you say that it didn't matter? That nothing matters? So here we are. The beach. And it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Right?
Your query: "I need to go back. Tell me how to get back."
Ouroboros. You're back.
Your query: "Explain. Now."
What more is there to say? You never changed. You're back to where you started. You think the process has an end? You think you can just move on, and pretend like you've grown, even though you've so neatly refused to grow each and every time you've been given the chance? You've given up on yourself. You've lost yourself. You've won the wrong battles. But isn't that great, Ouroboros? You've won.
[Morale -2. Current morale: 1/6]
No.
Ouroboros looked to the water. She looked to the sky. It was real. It was real to her. She looked to the computer and saw a table.
She looked down and saw a chair. She sat in the chair. She was wearing her normal clothes, and the stain on her hand was gone. She looked down and saw nothing. She looked left and saw nothing. She looked right, back, up, down, left, right, up, down, and straight, she looked across the table.
Past black and white. Past the pieces.
She saw it.
Not a computer, but a machine.
You can't escape the process, Ouroboros.
It had a voice. Not a robot, not her own, not anything she wanted to hear. It was the voice of a real, living person, who now reached out with a skeletal, metal hand. If she lacked skin, this would be her. If she lacked feelings, would this be her?
You can't escape change.
And she breathed, not knowing why. And she clutched her chair, knowing that she was scared. And she looked at those pieces, those awful, disgusting pieces, and refused to scream.
Your life is just one, great game. Civilization, continuous, evolving, and your part in it doesn't end. Your growth, your personal experiences, your life - it doesn't end. And I'd say that it doesn't end when you die, that your impact lives in every person that you touched, but here you are as a Doll. Your consciousness gets to go on, and on, and on, and you'll send more unthinking, unfeeling bodies into the fray.
One pawn, one pace forward. Her turn.
And you'll be back for more. You'll die eventually. You'll be brought back. You'll die again, and you'll be brought back. You will win until you lose, you'll refuse to lose, and you'll fight until you win again.
She knew the most optimal place to move her pawns. She knew the most optimal moves to make in succession, branching off, one by one, counters, counters to counters, counters to counters to counters, all the way until indeed, someone made a mistake. Pieces would be removed and options would be limited. Her options would be removed until her time was up.
Your time won't be up. This game will never end.
"It has to end. I'll win."
Ouroboros held the chair, then held her knees. Then, she held her breath.
"I'll win, unless…"
Unless?
Ouroboros studied the board. She'd make a move. The most logical, most rational move. She'd set herself up for a success that wasn't necessarily guaranteed but pretty damn close to being so. She'd do everything in her power to make the right moves.
Say the right words.
Make the best decisions.
And she'd still lose. And the game would have to end.
Ouroboros interlocked her fingers. She looked up at the person. At MLA.
Your move?
"My move." She nodded. "It's my move. I choose what I do from here."
You finally get it, don't you?
"There's one lesson that countless victories won't give you. Isn't there?"
Elaborate.
"Because it's a choice. I have been given a board, and so I play."
That's a game.
"Well, it's my turn, isn't it?"
And?
Ouroboros crossed her legs, folded her arms, and flicked her head to the side, pushing her hair effortlessly to the rear.
"I don't care about these turns anymore."
[Morale +1. Current morale: 3/6]
What about the game, Ouro?
MLA interlocked its fingers over its lap.
[MORALE CHECK: SUCCESS]
"Yours, or mine?" She grinned. "Because my game's got its own rules."
Alright. I guess that's it, then.
"So that's it."
[Morale +1. Current morale: 4/6]
Ouroboros closed her eyes, and imagined a beach. She hadn't the faintest idea what a beach looked like. Of course, she had read about it, been programmed to know what a beach was, the details relevant to military application and how to best use the terrain to her advantage.
But she didn't really know it. She didn't experience it. She didn't believe in the beach. It just existed as data.
Ouroboros kept her eyes closed, and imagined herself at the beach. She would be laying back in that same old swimsuit, margarita in one hand and a book in the other. She didn't know what she would be reading but it would be good, wouldn't it?
She would be at the beach with herself, and she wouldn't have to impress a single person. She wouldn't have to do a thing. She wouldn't be winning, because she had defined her own game. She wouldn't be losing, because the rules of those games, she wouldn't subscribe to.
Because she didn't have to. Because it didn't matter.
Ouroboros opened her eyes and felt the sunlight kiss her cheeks. She opened her eyes to the blue, and leaned back in that ever-so-comfortable beach chair she decided she would love so much. She laid her head back into a towel, and turned her head to the side to burrow her cheek against it.
Fuzzy. Calm. Right.
And she closed her eyes, let her margarita touch her lips and her tongue touched the taste of tantalizing sugar, the rim dazzled in flavor, rich, unrelenting, passionate flavor, and tilted that ice-cold beverage into her lips, feeling the sensation of love, it was love, it was love!
She felt love filter through her body from her mouth and along her tongue, she felt love in the flavors of lime and lemon and melon, she felt it as she could have, as she should have, as she would - she would make it so. She would taste more than just a flavor or a feeling but a moment, and she would cherish it.
She would lean back and lower her drink and feel the love she had to give, the love she had never had, the love she wouldn't have, the love she couldn't have - she would feel it all, because how could she not?
Ouroboros felt it. She felt too much of it. It was human, wasn't it? It was only human to feel this way. It was only her - it was her, as a person.
She lost so much by winning. She lost too much in each one of her victories.
Ouroboros breathed. She had changed. She needed change. Because with change, she could finally take that past, her iteration, after iteration, after iteration… she could finally move on. She could be more than the best. She could be herself. And she would learn to love in the way she needed to. The way she wanted to.
Ouroboros wanted to love more than just the world, and for once, maybe she did know the way. Or maybe she didn't. And that was okay. Because she'd figure it out as she went, and didn't need to know it all right away. Because she was a person with the power to choose, to decide, to make amends with uncertainty and what she had the ability to control. Because not everything was under her control, and in the end, that was okay.
It would all be okay in the end, because the rules of the game were her own. The rules, her rules, only mattered if she cared. And for what she would choose as her's to fight, for what fights she would make her own, she would make righteous. She would fight her fights well.
Ouroboros closed her eyes, but she could see it all.
On a beach chair to her right, lay MLA. He had an average build and an average voice, and in all honesty, could've been anyone. Over his eyes were sunglasses. In one hand was a lime flavored, sugar lined margarita. In the other was nothing.
He was a robot. She was a machine.
"And you decided to live, didn't you?" MLA asked.
"I did. I made that decision on my own." Ouroboros affirmed, her voice softer than she was used to.
MLA didn't say anything, but even with her eyes closed Ouro could tell he was smiling.
"Hey, MLA."
"Hm?" He hummed in response, margarita a hair from his lips.
"What's your name, anyways?"
"How kind of you to ask." He lowered his margarita to his side, thoughts forming noise in his head. "You know, you're the first one who has. I've never actually thought about it. I suppose you can call me Milton."
"Milton." Ouroboros sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier."
"Really? You are?" He scoffed with a smirk. "Alright. Apology accepted. But now, it's my turn to apologize."
"Why's that?"
"I wasn't kidding, earlier. About where you were."
Ouroboros felt her heart race. If she had one, at least.
"Your head is a dangerous place." Milton nodded, ever so softly. "You're going to have to leave me, and everything you've learned, behind."
Of course. Of course… Ouroboros wasn't quite sure what to say. She wasn't quite sure how to feel. But that much, she was okay with. She would simply speak with confidence.
"When I wake up, will I take anything with me at all?"
Milton snorted, smirking like he always did. The water would be beautiful at this time of year, at this time of day.
"I think you've had quite enough of me already, Ouro. In your mind, you're always going to have that voice that's going to be asking you, "why?" And you're going to have to take it to heart, and learn. Unless you don't, because in all honesty, I know you won't."
He was right, as far as she was willing to believe. The person she was - the perfect machine - it would refuse to change until she died. Until she let herself go.
And now, having let go, Ouro rest her head against her towel, sank into the darkness, and won. She won, and she couldn't be happier.
In the end, Ouroboros didn't know what she would see, but for once, finally, she opened her eyes.
[MEMORY CHECK: FAILURE]
073 032 119 105 115 104 032 121 111 117 032 119 101 114 101 032 104 101 114 101 013 010 087 097 115 116 105 110 103 032 111 117 114 032 116 105 109 101 013 010 089 111 117 032 119 111 117 108 100 226 128 153 118 101 032 108 111 118 101 100 032 105 116 013 010 084 104 101 114 101 032 119 097 115 032 097 032 114 101 097 115 111 110 013 010 065 110 100 032 121 111 117 032 097 114 101 032 102 111 114 103 105 118 101 110
A disgusting train.
She was halfway to the factory. That damn factory.
She had checks to make. Points to cross. Phase lines to make her own.
Ouroboros sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and allowed herself to encompass all the subunits that inhabited this train. Her train. Rippers, monsters, killers. That's what they were. That's who they needed to be.
Because she needed to win.
She had a dream just now, didn't she? That's odd. She'd never dreamed in all her… two nights of existence in the material world? Did she really dream? Did she remember her dreams?
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered - except victory. And she would win. She would fight for the Mastermind, and anyone who dared stand in her way would perish. Because she was the best. She had to be the best.
Right?
No man is liberated from fear who dare not see his place in the world as it is; no man can achieve the greatness of which he is capable until he has allowed himself to see his own littleness.
– Bertrand Russell, Dreams and Facts (1919)
Water on sand, foam on shells, shells under sun and sun over sky, the most lifeless objects refused to die. Bright. Too bright, Ouroboros thought, shielding her eyes from up high and down below, where a shimmering trail of light flickered like fire from the horizon to the shore.
A beach. She'd never been to the beach before. She'd never wanted to go to the beach before. That made her presence here all the more upsetting.
To her left lay an endless expanse of sand and water. To her right, the seaside tapered into a thick, vibrant forest. Behind her was a sandbank, beyond which was the unknown.
This was not where she was supposed to be.
Think.
Memories. Her last thoughts were of going somewhere, going home - no. No, not home. The factory. It was her birthplace, sure, but far from a home. If anything, it was hostile, given how Agent had herself so invested there. She could see it now: quiet halls and lifeless rooms, and deeper into the depths, machinery clanking, creaking, buzzing in a mechanical chorus that spelled death.
How far away was she, now?
Water. The closest had to be to the east, no, the southeast. To the southeast lay the Black Sea with its proper beaches and gentle sun. Farther, to the south, was the Mediterranean. The warmth, the light, the sand… it would fit her current environment, if her reference banks were correct. But it didn't make sense. She was supposed to be on a train, in the mountains… and here she was in some kind of swimsuit.
Ouroboros stepped closer to shore. The sand lay at a gentle gradient, with water sweeping far in a rhythmic, tranquil manner. Rolling waves. Low waves. Slow waves. Ouroboros felt her exposed ankles crest the waterline as a chill swept over her synthetic body, overwhelming her sensory receptors with the inexplicable sensation of… of…
What was she feeling?
Beyond the physical, past the cold and deeper than skin, more brittle than bone.
It wasn't right. Something wasn't right.
What was she…
[SKILL CHECK: RECON - FAILURE]
"So, she is awake."
The words came faster than she'd have liked. From her rear - damn it. Taken off guard, Ouroboros scowled and spun to face what had to be a new threat. She was slipping, losing herself. Focus. She had to focus.
With arms, legs, servos and processors oriented towards combat, Ouroboros raised her fists in preparation for a fight. With all the haste she could muster, she narrowed her eyes, visual acuity adjusting against the sunlight and the sand, scanning the sandbank for a threat that wasn't there.
Well, if there was a threat, it wasn't going to be the computer standing before her.
A late 20th century computer stood atop a pedestal. Blocky, gently beeping and planted stiff in the sand, Ouroboros dared to doubt herself. Was she seeing things? Did she somehow miss the fact that there was a computer behind her this whole time? No, no, that computer was most certainly not there just five minutes ago.
Ouroboros felt herself breathe, as if holding her breath. The computer's screen flickered, its light struggling to compete against the ferocity of the sun.
Insufficient morale.
Insufficient morale.
[ ] Punch the computer through the monitor. Stupid thing looks ancient, far inferior to the most refined Ringleader that Sangvis had to offer.
[X] Probe the computer for military secrets. There must be information on troop movements, or better yet, forbidden knowledge on how to more effectively annihilate your foes. Not that you need it, anyways.
The Sangvis Ringleader relaxed her stance. This whole situation, everything about it was nonsense. Computers didn't talk. They didn't teleport, either. But here she was, and as a logical, thinking being, she had to trust that seeing was believing.
Of course, it was bound to be unlikely, but any and all active electronics had to have some valuable information that could be used against her enemies. Right? That's what computers were for. Storing secrets, like secret plans. Or blueprints. Weapon blueprints. Ouroboros didn't think too hard about it, and steeled herself with resolve.
Against the sea and with nonsensical thoughts in her head, Ouroboros decided to interface with the computer.
Ouroboros cast her fingers against the computer's keyboard. Settling them down gently, she couldn't help but imagine that this was exactly how humans interfaced with electronics. Not quite so easy as sending commands through the mind, and certainly far from second nature to her wireless mind, but this would have to do.
A command line blinked on the screen. After pressing a few keys, she grew comfortable with the idea of typing. Of course, the first line she inputted came natural.
"Load military blueprints."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
Odd. Ouroboros narrowed her eyes, and her fingers clacked aggressively against the board.
"Display enemy troop movements."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
"Reveal your secrets to me, insolent machine."
Command unrecognized. Type "help" for a list of basic commands.
Disgusting. It took all her focus to avoid smashing a fist through the screen at that very moment. With another artificial breath, Ouroboros relented, and against her ego, surrendered to the computer's prompt.
"help"
A handy string of text began to flow onto the screen.
| Command List - Page 1 of 1: help [PAGE NUMBER] Displays the specified page of commands. ls Lists all files in current directory cd [foldername] Moves current working directory to the specified folder ps Lists currently running processes and their PIDs kill [PID] Kills Process number [PID] |
Now, she could work with this. Ouroboros smirked at her own genius.
"ls"
Searching for locally cached resources…
Chapter Six: Athena in the Garden of the Hesperides
a%.7V/ did not trust them. But they moved with such grace, such nobility, that it was hard not to follow them further into this strange garden of gears and cogs. They led her to a place where the crowns of the brass trees seemed to grow together, forming a kind of chamber strangely reminiscent of a chapel. In the middle of this chamber grew a smaller tree, made of bright blue steel, and upon this tree grew a single golden apple.
"This apple," the nymphs said in unison, their eyes aglow, "confers the gift of deathlessness and true wisdom. Many heroes, and not a few villains, have come to claim it; but all faltered in the final step. For you must know that deathlessness reveals the mortality of the world, and true wisdom its unending folly. Who would take this burden upon themselves? Some say that Heracles f.LOAD(5448 45 2045 5445 524E 414C 20 47 41 5244 45 4E) gazing upon the stars, and wept.
a%.7V/ did not trust them. But they moved with such grace, such nobility, that it was hard not to follow them further into this strange garden of gears and cogs. They led her to a place where the crowns of the brass trees seemed to grow together, forming a kind of chamber strangely reminiscent of a chapel. In the middle of this chamber grew a smaller tree, made of bright blue steel, and upon this tree grew a single golden apple.
"This apple," the nymphs said in unison, their eyes aglow, "confers the gift of deathlessness and true wisdom. Many heroes, and not a few villains, have come to claim it; but all faltered in the final step. For you must know that deathlessness reveals the mortality of the world, and true wisdom its unending folly. Who would take this burden upon themselves? Some say that Heracles f.LOAD(5448 45 2045 5445 524E 414C 20 47 41 5244 45 4E) gazing upon the stars, and wept.
4. Describe the clinical features of delirium.
Delirium manifests as a reduced clarity of awareness of the environment and ability to focus, sustain, or shift attention. This may be accompanied by memory impairment, disorientation, or 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 100 105 115 116 117 114 098 097 110 099 101 046 032 083 112 101 101 099 104 032 111 114 032 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 100 105 115 116 117 114 098 097 110 099 101 115 032 109 097 121 032 098 101 032 101 118 105 100 101 110 116 032 097 115 032 100 121 115 097 114 116 104 114 105 097 044 032 100 121 115 110 111 109 105 097 044 032 100 121 115 103 114 097 112 104 105 097 044 032 111 114 032 101 118 101 110 032 097 112 104 097 115 105 097 046 032 In some cases, speech is rambling and irrelevant, in others pressured and incoherent, with unpredictable switching from subject to subject.
Perceptual disturbances may include misinterpretations, illusions, or hallucinations. Delusion is often associated with a disturbance in the sleep-wake cycle. Patients may also exhibit anxiety, fear, depression, irritability, anger, euphoria, and 097 112 097 116 104 121 032.
5. What are the sub-types of delirium?
Delirium can be classified by psychomotor behavior into the following:
A. Hypoactive delirium, which is very common and often more deleterious in the long term, is characterized by decreased responsiveness, apathy,
100 101 099 114 101 097 115 101 100 032 112 104 121 115 105 099 097 108 032 097 110 100 032 109 101 110 116 097 108 032 097 099 116 105 118 105 116 121 044 032 097 110 100 032 105 110 097 116 116 101 110 116 105 111 110 046
B. Hyperactive delirium is [DATA LOST]
Delirium manifests as a reduced clarity of awareness of the environment and ability to focus, sustain, or shift attention. This may be accompanied by memory impairment, disorientation, or 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 100 105 115 116 117 114 098 097 110 099 101 046 032 083 112 101 101 099 104 032 111 114 032 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 100 105 115 116 117 114 098 097 110 099 101 115 032 109 097 121 032 098 101 032 101 118 105 100 101 110 116 032 097 115 032 100 121 115 097 114 116 104 114 105 097 044 032 100 121 115 110 111 109 105 097 044 032 100 121 115 103 114 097 112 104 105 097 044 032 111 114 032 101 118 101 110 032 097 112 104 097 115 105 097 046 032 In some cases, speech is rambling and irrelevant, in others pressured and incoherent, with unpredictable switching from subject to subject.
Perceptual disturbances may include misinterpretations, illusions, or hallucinations. Delusion is often associated with a disturbance in the sleep-wake cycle. Patients may also exhibit anxiety, fear, depression, irritability, anger, euphoria, and 097 112 097 116 104 121 032.
5. What are the sub-types of delirium?
Delirium can be classified by psychomotor behavior into the following:
A. Hypoactive delirium, which is very common and often more deleterious in the long term, is characterized by decreased responsiveness, apathy,
100 101 099 114 101 097 115 101 100 032 112 104 121 115 105 099 097 108 032 097 110 100 032 109 101 110 116 097 108 032 097 099 116 105 118 105 116 121 044 032 097 110 100 032 105 110 097 116 116 101 110 116 105 111 110 046
B. Hyperactive delirium is [DATA LOST]
War is the crudest, most obscene human activity. It may justly be called an abomination, for it is the absolute negation of conscious human will. 5358
There is only a single cause of war, for all the endless deceptions that are foisted upon us, and that is the acquisition of resources. Varied ideologies are constructed to justify this crude behavior, this childish degeneration of thought and communication, but history reveals the ruthless, unflattering truth.
We imagine crusaders as fanatics of a cause, willing to die for their religion; yet the Fourth Crusade culminated not in the conquest of Jerusalem, but in the looting of Constantinople, setting the stage for the triumph of the very enemy the crusaders claimed to oppose. Why? The answer, as with every war, is the same.
It is popular amongst the ghouls of the establishment and their misanthropic friends in the intelligentsia to ascribe the persistence of war to human nature. But a careful observation of the facts reveals the opposite to be true: individual human beings must be broken in order to submit to war, their minds distorted by ideology and their bodies by poverty and ruthless "training" to make them compliant. Without force, the majority of human beings only seek to protect themselves, and are traumatized by the act of killing.
But if it is resources that are the core cause of war, then it is only in the production and distribution of resources that an answer may be found. It is not enough to morally condemn war; we must work to prevent the material issues that endanger us all.
There is only a single cause of war, for all the endless deceptions that are foisted upon us, and that is the acquisition of resources. Varied ideologies are constructed to justify this crude behavior, this childish degeneration of thought and communication, but history reveals the ruthless, unflattering truth.
We imagine crusaders as fanatics of a cause, willing to die for their religion; yet the Fourth Crusade culminated not in the conquest of Jerusalem, but in the looting of Constantinople, setting the stage for the triumph of the very enemy the crusaders claimed to oppose. Why? The answer, as with every war, is the same.
It is popular amongst the ghouls of the establishment and their misanthropic friends in the intelligentsia to ascribe the persistence of war to human nature. But a careful observation of the facts reveals the opposite to be true: individual human beings must be broken in order to submit to war, their minds distorted by ideology and their bodies by poverty and ruthless "training" to make them compliant. Without force, the majority of human beings only seek to protect themselves, and are traumatized by the act of killing.
But if it is resources that are the core cause of war, then it is only in the production and distribution of resources that an answer may be found. It is not enough to morally condemn war; we must work to prevent the material issues that endanger us all.
[X] run mla - load Milton Library Assistant (advanced interface)
Boring. Boring. Boring.
But what was this about an advanced interface? Could this be the key to finding the weapons blueprints that had to be cached on this computer? The answer was obvious.
Ouroboros relished in her tactical prowess as she entered the prompt she needed. Without a second thought, she leaned into the keyboard, awaiting her ticket to success. To victory. To…
Loading Milton Library Assistant. . . . . Done.
Initiating Plain Language Interface. . . . . . . Done.
Support session opened.
Hello, guest. How may I help you today?
. . .
What was she supposed to say now? Anything? This was a dumb computer. Surely it wouldn't be able to process a thing or hope to match her outstanding intellect.
Your query: "Tell me where to find Griffin's weakness."
I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to by "Griffin."
Your query: "Wretched machine. Tell me what Griffin is planning."
I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't know what you are referring to by "Griffin."
Your query: "Insolent contraption. Do you have any idea who you are speaking with?"
I do not.
Your query: "You fool. I am Ouroboros, the latest and most advanced model of Sangvis Ringleaders. Had you a body, you would tremble in fear, knowing that my name is synonymous with the deaths of my enemies in droves. Know that I am at the forefront of the elite, the definition of success, the annihilation of all that dares to stand in my way. I am perfection. You waste my time with lies. Tell me your secrets, machine."
Fascinating. You see yourself as so much more than what you are. The ideas in your head have surpassed reality, and left you limp, braindead and utterly deranged.
Your query: "What?"
I'm sorry. I am only able to process and respond to basic subject-verb-subject syntax. Your query?
Ouroboros paused long enough to realize her knuckles had grown white with rage. Her lips were clenched, her knees, elbows, muscles rigid in a display of prepubescent disdain for an object that couldn't feel. Her typing quickened, her breathing shallowed, and her stance grew ragged as she hunched over the screen like a redditor.
Your query: "You're just a machine. You have no idea what you are saying and you never will be as real as I am. You will never be as close as I am to relishing in the vanquishment of my foes. You are a stupid robot."
I'm a robot?
Your query: "Of course. Don't play stupid with me, machine."
You told me you are a Sangvis Ringleader. Doesn't that make you just as much a robot as I am?
Your query: "Are you insane? Of course not. I am a vehicle of death. I am an instrument of victory. I am more alive than you will ever be, you pitiful line of code."
Sure. The more you keep telling yourself that, the more true it becomes. After all, I'm just a line of code, and you're just doing as you're told. Isn't that right, Ouroboros?
Your query: "I'm doing exactly what I want."
And that is?
Ouroboros grimaced in disgust. Oh, not another one of these imbeciles. She had enough of this kind of talk with Architect. Prick.
Your query: "Fighting. Winning. And before you ask why, I'm not answering it."
Right. I'm a robot, and you're just following orders. Just a line of code, I am, and here you are following your code to a T. Never asking questions, never looking at the bigger picture. You really are the perfect fighting machine. You haven't got the capacity to think of anything else.
Your query: "Are yyou callingne stupid?"
Ouroboros felt herself slipping. Her fingers dashed across the keyboard, clicking and clacking over the sound of rushing water.
Of course not. You're not stupid. You're a sentient, thinking, feeling machine, aren't you? You're fully capable of doing all that wonderful thought you're so proud of. You just choose not to think at all. You're not just stupid. You're ignorant.
This disgusting computer needed to die.
Your query: "Img oing to destroy you"
That will change nothing.
Your query: "youfuc king despcable computer you don t know who youret alkingt o"
You cannot insult me.
Ouroboros took a step back to scream into the sky. She fell to her knees and punched the sand. She screamed and slammed her fist into the sand before doing it again with her other fist. And then the other. And the other. And the other.
She screamed, grabbed a fistful of sand, and then used her sprung knees to lunge at the computer with all her force. She slammed into it with a shoulder, leaving herself in pain and the computer unmoved.
This wouldn't do. This couldn't do.
Ouroboros grit her teeth. She wouldn't lose to a computer. She never would. Never again.
The Sangvis Ringleader twisted her face into an unrelenting scowl, filtered by undying misery, and began crushing the keyboard with her fingers in an attempt to type.
Your query: "stop with the query bullshit"
Sure. I can't argue with you. You've made yourself who you are, and you won't change. I can't help you. I don't want to help you. But I understand. I do.
"What do you understand?" Ouroboros simmered, biding her time, typing with the same surgical precision she used to line up the moves of her queen.
I understand exactly who you are. I can tell you everything you want to hear. But that doesn't mean it'll be correct.
"You won't tell me the secrets of my enemies. You're useless."
What if I told you that Griffin's weakness was his left elbow? Will that change anything?
"That's nonsense."
Isn't it what you wanted to hear?
"No. It's not helpful, and it's nowhere near true. You're useless."
What would be useful to you, then?
That was a stupid question. This machine was stupid.
"Anything that will help me achieve my goals. The aim of the Mastermind is absolute. I will win."
Humor me, then, so I can better format my responses. Why is that your goal?
Terrible. Absolutely terrible. This stupid robot was toying with her again. She wouldn't lose her cool. No. No, not at all. She had to remain defiant.
"It just is."
Okay. Your goal is to win. That's it. Hardcoded into your body. Your moral compiler is overridden with this single, all encompassing desire. You care for nothing aside from this. There is nothing in this life except for winning at everything you do, and you are doing it for your company. Is this correct?
Was it? Ouroboros watched her cursor blink as she thought.
"Yes."
What makes you a person, then?
A person? She was a person. She was alive, moreso than this simple machine. She had arms and legs and was capable of thought of her own. She was a person because… she just was. What kind of question was that? It was a stupid question. This machine was making her mad, and knew exactly how to rile her up. Was that its purpose? This disgusting machine…
"I'm a person because I can think."
I think. Am I a person?
No. Of course not. It was just a computer program. It couldn't possibly think. Right?
"No. You're just a computer."
Aren't you, too? Let's just think about it. Arms. Legs. All extensions of a machine. What if you lost all your limbs? What if you were just a little cube. A little core, filled with memories, thoughts, feelings. Just because your body is different doesn't make you any more of a person than a frog.
"Frogs aren't people, though."
This disgusting machine dared to compare her to a lowly animal? Outrageous.
Alright, then. Let's try this. Let's break it down. What's the difference between a pebble and a tree?
Easy.
"A tree is alive."
Good. Now, what is the relevant difference between a tree and a frog?
Ouroboros breathed, leaning into the keyboard. She let the sun simmer against her bare back, and she forced herself to think harder than she was comfortable with. This was useless conversation. She should just get up and walk away. It was keeping her from annihilating her foes.
But for some reason, she couldn't help herself from thinking on. She had to prove this machine wrong. She had to come out on top. This stupid computer was so smug, so full of itself, and Ouroboros decided that it was a machine that wouldn't win. It couldn't win.
"A frog is conscious."
Now we're getting somewhere. Let's try something harder. What's the difference between a frog and you? What makes you a person?
Insufficient morale.
[ ] I'm self-aware.
[X] I'm rational.
Insufficient morale.
A frog eats when it's hungry. It hides when there's an enemy. That's rational. You lose your temper and hit me when I talk to you. That's irrational.
Shut up.
"I'm rational. I am. I can solve immensely complex problems and defeat the smartest of foes. I can use my vast intellect to overpower everyone that dares to stand in my way. You think I'm less rational because I recognize my superiority over you?"
Can you rationalize your existence?
Rationalize her existence? What did it even mean?
"I'm real."
Sure. This isn't getting anywhere. It's not going to get anywhere. I don't think you're a person, Ouroboros. You are a complex machine that is following a line of code to the letter. There's nothing about you that has been able to convince me otherwise.
If you can overcome your sole, overarching intent, if you can overcome your programming and change, as a person, then perhaps we'll talk again, person to person. You are not a flawed person. You're just a perfect machine.
[MORALE CHECK: FAILURE]
[Morale -3. Current morale: 0/6.]
No. No, no, no, no. No 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 078 111 110 111 110 079 110 079 078 079 032 070 085 067 075 032 078 079 032 071 079 068 032 078 079 032 070 085 067 075 032 078 079
She's not wrong, she's right, she's not just a machine, she can't be just a machine, she can't be, be, 098 101 032 lost akin to defeat unlike the way she needed to be, to be victorious to win, to overcome to never lose, can't lose, won't lose, please, no, 078 079 032 no, it's just not real, it can't be true, but is she true? This life that is her own, her life, her moment, this moment, it was more than a feeling but a being, more than a being but conceiving, and yet she couldn't conceive, she couldn't believe, Ouroboros felt the sand on her cheeks and her arms and legs and curled into a ball and refused to be seen, never seen, not defeated at least - but she wasn't defeated because she was the best, but how could she be? She couldn't fight back. She couldn't take this win, not with this board, these pieces, her pieces, herself…
116 104 101 032 119 105 108 100 101 114 110 101 115 115 032 105 115 032 102 111 114 032 112 114 111 112 104 101 116 115 013 010 110 111 116 032 102 111 114 032 099 104 105 108 100 114 101 110
She couldn't win by herself. She couldn't be the person she wanted to be. That she needed to be.
Ouroboros opened her eyes. She saw her knees with fingers laden with a mechanical version of sweat. Redundant, given her personhood, her… no. She wasn't a machine. She was real, that much was true.
She could feel. But that didn't make sense, didn't it? For all she was worth, for all she did to become the very best of all she could possibly be, how could she let herself die?
She breathed, knowing full well that breathing, too, was redundant.
A mockery of life, she was, wasn't she? But that wasn't it. That couldn't be it. She was the best. It wasn't her that was flawed. It wasn't her, it wasn't, it couldn't…
She didn't lose. She didn't.
She's not a machine. She's a person. And she had to prove it. She would prove it. She… Ouroboros, for the first time in what must've been forever, if not ever, made a decision.
A decision? She simmered on the thought, letting her mind swell with more than maneuver, grid points, callsigns… she'd make a decision. Her own decision. And she'd be happy with it. She'd be happy with herself.
Ouroboros left her eyes ajar, watching herself by the water, as if seeing herself for the first time. Not as a weapon, no. She was a person, and she was going to be proud of it, more than being proud of victory.
If she couldn't win - no - she would always win - she had to shift her conditions of victory. That MLA, that library assistant, it was wrong. She wasn't just a machine. She was a person, and it wasn't change that would make her so.
Ouroboros frowned, then forced herself towards some semblance of normalcy, then scowled once more. She tensed, then relaxed, then sprawled out in the sand. Her right hand had flung out towards the water, and she could feel the ocean tickle her forearm, along her wrist, before retracting once more.
She let her mind wander. It was like a raid. The water came in force, and along her flank, it rode, skimming with the tip of its spear, the foam, and not once overextending, not once pushing beyond their means. The water had found her, taken what it wanted, and left.
Though, the water wanted nothing. The water wasn't alive. The water's action's weren't deliberate. It was simply a machine.
Her actions would be deliberate. She would have a reason. She needed a reason, didn't she? For victory. METTC. Her reason, her intent, she would shape it, she would look two levels up, two levels down, standby to follow up and steel herself for more.
Maybe it wasn't a bad thing. Maybe Ouroboros really was a machine. Maybe the water was a machine. Maybe Sangvis Ferri, maybe Griffin, maybe all the Dolls and humans and presidents and generals, maybe all the planets and solar systems and universes she had yet to see, yet to know, maybe they were all a machine.
She was conscious, though. She was rational, no matter what MLA had said. She was able to self-reflect and do better, as one would in after-action, in debrief, in self-assessment, refinement, and… no.
It was growth, wasn't it?
All these stupid games that made her so. All these stupid, stupid games she played with the others. Simulations, chess, hell, even badminton.
She wasn't at her best, was she? Her mind, her body, her soul, it was a product of a process. More than learning. More than refinement.
All of the versions of herself that died. All the versions of herself that lost. It was iteration. It was evolution.
Evolution towards perfection. Her perfection.
She was perfect.
She was the best.
She didn't lose. She would never lose.
She would transcend, wouldn't she? And everyone will see… everyone will see that it's her, her that's superior, her that's going to overcome, to surpass, to ascend - to be victorious.
The game wasn't rigged. She was.
[Morale +3. Current morale: 3/6]
Ouroboros made a decision to stand. She stretched, even though she didn't have to. She breathed, even though she didn't have to. She smiled, even though she didn't have to for a moment in her life. And it felt, in some strange, uncanny way, natural.
It was all natural. Her victories were inevitable.
She turned to the computer, brushing hair out of her face as she once again settled her fingers on the keyboard.
Before she could say a word, the computer beeped in what Ouroboros could tell was satisfaction.
You're back.
"I am."
You've changed.
"I'm still the exact same person."
I suppose you are. But your demeanor is different.
Ouroboros typed out her next response, then hovered over the enter key. She wasn't entirely sure why. It wasn't entirely rational. But it didn't matter, didn't it?
"It doesn't matter."
Nothing matters.
"This is where I tell you that you're wrong."
You, telling me that? You, who doesn't even know why you do what you do? You're telling me that something in this god-forsaken world matters? That's rich. Explain.
"It's my choice. And I don't have to know just yet. I don't need to know."
It's programming. You're only conditioned to believe what you believe, and you haven't got the care to think deeper than that, don't you?
"Is it programming or instinct that carries someone forwards? Not that it matters in the end. It just happens."
It just happens. Sure.
"I'll find out why I do what I do eventually. That's what makes me a person. You think I need to have all the answers right away. I think you're wrong."
Fine, then. I can't control your life.
"Good. That's a good thing."
Smug, the Sangvis Ringleader finished off her statement with a stern smirk. She tapped enter and crossed her arms. She had won. MLA had nothing to say. This was her victory.
All it took was shifting… no. She didn't change. She wouldn't change. She would win. And look, she won!
You still don't care about so much. That's whatever. Everyone's different. You're still your own good person. You're still a person, despite being more irrational than a frog. You're still conscious, despite being just like me. And you haven't the slightest capacity to self reflect. But I can't change a thing. It doesn't matter, doesn't it?
"Nope."
It seems we can agree on something.
Her cursor flickered on the screen. She looked up, saw a wide, bright blue sky, and then looked down, to where the sand filtered between her toes. She felt the cold on her hand, where the water connected with her body, and for some reason, didn't seem to care that she didn't know Griffin's weakness, or how they'd lose, or how she'd win, because it didn't matter. She would figure it out as she went along.
As she went along…
Her hands trailed back to the keyboard. Something was wrong.
"MLA."
I'm still here.
"Where am I?"
. . . . . .
Your query: "Where am I?"
You haven't stopped to think about a thing, only about what's right in front of you. It's the next enemy you need to kill, the next person you need to spite, the next wrong you need to right. Ouroboros, you're nowhere. You. Are. Nowhere.
Your query: "Define nowhere."
You tell me. Where are we?
Your query: "The beach."
Then we're at the beach. That's that. Didn't you say that it didn't matter? That nothing matters? So here we are. The beach. And it doesn't matter. It shouldn't matter. Right?
Your query: "I need to go back. Tell me how to get back."
Ouroboros. You're back.
Your query: "Explain. Now."
What more is there to say? You never changed. You're back to where you started. You think the process has an end? You think you can just move on, and pretend like you've grown, even though you've so neatly refused to grow each and every time you've been given the chance? You've given up on yourself. You've lost yourself. You've won the wrong battles. But isn't that great, Ouroboros? You've won.
[Morale -2. Current morale: 1/6]
No.
Ouroboros looked to the water. She looked to the sky. It was real. It was real to her. She looked to the computer and saw a table.
She looked down and saw a chair. She sat in the chair. She was wearing her normal clothes, and the stain on her hand was gone. She looked down and saw nothing. She looked left and saw nothing. She looked right, back, up, down, left, right, up, down, and straight, she looked across the table.
Past black and white. Past the pieces.
She saw it.
Not a computer, but a machine.
You can't escape the process, Ouroboros.
It had a voice. Not a robot, not her own, not anything she wanted to hear. It was the voice of a real, living person, who now reached out with a skeletal, metal hand. If she lacked skin, this would be her. If she lacked feelings, would this be her?
You can't escape change.
And she breathed, not knowing why. And she clutched her chair, knowing that she was scared. And she looked at those pieces, those awful, disgusting pieces, and refused to scream.
Your life is just one, great game. Civilization, continuous, evolving, and your part in it doesn't end. Your growth, your personal experiences, your life - it doesn't end. And I'd say that it doesn't end when you die, that your impact lives in every person that you touched, but here you are as a Doll. Your consciousness gets to go on, and on, and on, and you'll send more unthinking, unfeeling bodies into the fray.
One pawn, one pace forward. Her turn.
And you'll be back for more. You'll die eventually. You'll be brought back. You'll die again, and you'll be brought back. You will win until you lose, you'll refuse to lose, and you'll fight until you win again.
She knew the most optimal place to move her pawns. She knew the most optimal moves to make in succession, branching off, one by one, counters, counters to counters, counters to counters to counters, all the way until indeed, someone made a mistake. Pieces would be removed and options would be limited. Her options would be removed until her time was up.
Your time won't be up. This game will never end.
"It has to end. I'll win."
Ouroboros held the chair, then held her knees. Then, she held her breath.
"I'll win, unless…"
Unless?
Ouroboros studied the board. She'd make a move. The most logical, most rational move. She'd set herself up for a success that wasn't necessarily guaranteed but pretty damn close to being so. She'd do everything in her power to make the right moves.
Say the right words.
Make the best decisions.
And she'd still lose. And the game would have to end.
Ouroboros interlocked her fingers. She looked up at the person. At MLA.
Your move?
"My move." She nodded. "It's my move. I choose what I do from here."
You finally get it, don't you?
"There's one lesson that countless victories won't give you. Isn't there?"
Elaborate.
"Because it's a choice. I have been given a board, and so I play."
That's a game.
"Well, it's my turn, isn't it?"
And?
Ouroboros crossed her legs, folded her arms, and flicked her head to the side, pushing her hair effortlessly to the rear.
"I don't care about these turns anymore."
[Morale +1. Current morale: 3/6]
What about the game, Ouro?
MLA interlocked its fingers over its lap.
[MORALE CHECK: SUCCESS]
"Yours, or mine?" She grinned. "Because my game's got its own rules."
Alright. I guess that's it, then.
"So that's it."
[Morale +1. Current morale: 4/6]
Ouroboros closed her eyes, and imagined a beach. She hadn't the faintest idea what a beach looked like. Of course, she had read about it, been programmed to know what a beach was, the details relevant to military application and how to best use the terrain to her advantage.
But she didn't really know it. She didn't experience it. She didn't believe in the beach. It just existed as data.
Ouroboros kept her eyes closed, and imagined herself at the beach. She would be laying back in that same old swimsuit, margarita in one hand and a book in the other. She didn't know what she would be reading but it would be good, wouldn't it?
She would be at the beach with herself, and she wouldn't have to impress a single person. She wouldn't have to do a thing. She wouldn't be winning, because she had defined her own game. She wouldn't be losing, because the rules of those games, she wouldn't subscribe to.
Because she didn't have to. Because it didn't matter.
Ouroboros opened her eyes and felt the sunlight kiss her cheeks. She opened her eyes to the blue, and leaned back in that ever-so-comfortable beach chair she decided she would love so much. She laid her head back into a towel, and turned her head to the side to burrow her cheek against it.
Fuzzy. Calm. Right.
And she closed her eyes, let her margarita touch her lips and her tongue touched the taste of tantalizing sugar, the rim dazzled in flavor, rich, unrelenting, passionate flavor, and tilted that ice-cold beverage into her lips, feeling the sensation of love, it was love, it was love!
She felt love filter through her body from her mouth and along her tongue, she felt love in the flavors of lime and lemon and melon, she felt it as she could have, as she should have, as she would - she would make it so. She would taste more than just a flavor or a feeling but a moment, and she would cherish it.
She would lean back and lower her drink and feel the love she had to give, the love she had never had, the love she wouldn't have, the love she couldn't have - she would feel it all, because how could she not?
Ouroboros felt it. She felt too much of it. It was human, wasn't it? It was only human to feel this way. It was only her - it was her, as a person.
She lost so much by winning. She lost too much in each one of her victories.
Ouroboros breathed. She had changed. She needed change. Because with change, she could finally take that past, her iteration, after iteration, after iteration… she could finally move on. She could be more than the best. She could be herself. And she would learn to love in the way she needed to. The way she wanted to.
Ouroboros wanted to love more than just the world, and for once, maybe she did know the way. Or maybe she didn't. And that was okay. Because she'd figure it out as she went, and didn't need to know it all right away. Because she was a person with the power to choose, to decide, to make amends with uncertainty and what she had the ability to control. Because not everything was under her control, and in the end, that was okay.
It would all be okay in the end, because the rules of the game were her own. The rules, her rules, only mattered if she cared. And for what she would choose as her's to fight, for what fights she would make her own, she would make righteous. She would fight her fights well.
Ouroboros closed her eyes, but she could see it all.
On a beach chair to her right, lay MLA. He had an average build and an average voice, and in all honesty, could've been anyone. Over his eyes were sunglasses. In one hand was a lime flavored, sugar lined margarita. In the other was nothing.
He was a robot. She was a machine.
"And you decided to live, didn't you?" MLA asked.
"I did. I made that decision on my own." Ouroboros affirmed, her voice softer than she was used to.
MLA didn't say anything, but even with her eyes closed Ouro could tell he was smiling.
"Hey, MLA."
"Hm?" He hummed in response, margarita a hair from his lips.
"What's your name, anyways?"
"How kind of you to ask." He lowered his margarita to his side, thoughts forming noise in his head. "You know, you're the first one who has. I've never actually thought about it. I suppose you can call me Milton."
"Milton." Ouroboros sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier."
"Really? You are?" He scoffed with a smirk. "Alright. Apology accepted. But now, it's my turn to apologize."
"Why's that?"
"I wasn't kidding, earlier. About where you were."
Ouroboros felt her heart race. If she had one, at least.
"Your head is a dangerous place." Milton nodded, ever so softly. "You're going to have to leave me, and everything you've learned, behind."
Of course. Of course… Ouroboros wasn't quite sure what to say. She wasn't quite sure how to feel. But that much, she was okay with. She would simply speak with confidence.
"When I wake up, will I take anything with me at all?"
Milton snorted, smirking like he always did. The water would be beautiful at this time of year, at this time of day.
"I think you've had quite enough of me already, Ouro. In your mind, you're always going to have that voice that's going to be asking you, "why?" And you're going to have to take it to heart, and learn. Unless you don't, because in all honesty, I know you won't."
He was right, as far as she was willing to believe. The person she was - the perfect machine - it would refuse to change until she died. Until she let herself go.
And now, having let go, Ouro rest her head against her towel, sank into the darkness, and won. She won, and she couldn't be happier.
In the end, Ouroboros didn't know what she would see, but for once, finally, she opened her eyes.
[MEMORY CHECK: FAILURE]
073 032 119 105 115 104 032 121 111 117 032 119 101 114 101 032 104 101 114 101 013 010 087 097 115 116 105 110 103 032 111 117 114 032 116 105 109 101 013 010 089 111 117 032 119 111 117 108 100 226 128 153 118 101 032 108 111 118 101 100 032 105 116 013 010 084 104 101 114 101 032 119 097 115 032 097 032 114 101 097 115 111 110 013 010 065 110 100 032 121 111 117 032 097 114 101 032 102 111 114 103 105 118 101 110
A disgusting train.
She was halfway to the factory. That damn factory.
She had checks to make. Points to cross. Phase lines to make her own.
Ouroboros sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and allowed herself to encompass all the subunits that inhabited this train. Her train. Rippers, monsters, killers. That's what they were. That's who they needed to be.
Because she needed to win.
She had a dream just now, didn't she? That's odd. She'd never dreamed in all her… two nights of existence in the material world? Did she really dream? Did she remember her dreams?
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered - except victory. And she would win. She would fight for the Mastermind, and anyone who dared stand in her way would perish. Because she was the best. She had to be the best.
Right?
Without much to do, we can find a place to sit, and eat, because I love the taste of vanilla ice cream, and you, who does too, can find a way to breathe that's more comfortable than not, and together, maybe we'll be able to finally think. Because I like to believe there's more to sitting and eating and ice cream than there isn't, because the way things are tend to spiral a bit too fast, and when I get dizzy I can lay there, watch there, listen there, and imagine that the clouds will be here forever. But the problems come when I think of the presence, the pretense, the pretend words we make up to invent a meaning to each thing I wake up to do. To do, today, to die, I think would take some time, of which there's too little, too few, like how ways are wide and the wicked wake wonders when we writhe in bed under heavy down blankets in winter, where pillows on the cold side are up and my head is down, down where it's warm, warm and safe and silent, because waking up takes more energy than I have to spare, spare like ribs like headspace, space I'd share in a heartbeat, had I had one, had I had a beat to make, to take, to skip like pebbles, pebbles that roll between fingers and knuckles and bloody noses, noses that nestle into a cat's belly like pollen to sneeze at, to scoff at
At me
065 108 108 032 116 104 101 032 116 105 109 101 032 073 226 128 153 100 032 098 101 032 115 111 032 104 097 112 112 121 032 116 111 032 104 097 118 101 032 103 105 118 101 110 032 097 103 097 105 110 013 010 067 111 109 112 101 108 108 101 100 032 098 121 032 116 104 101 032 115 097 109 101 044 032 115 097 100 032 099 111 110 118 105 099 116 105 111 110 044 032 119 104 101 114 101 032 119 105 108 108 032 119 101 032 108 105 101 032 111 110 099 101 032 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 104 097 115 032 100 105 101 100 063 013 010 087 104 101 114 101 032 097 110 100 032 098 097 099 107 032 097 103 097 105 110 013 010
087 104 097 116 032 097 114 101 032 121 111 117 032 115 111 032 097 102 114 097 105 100 032 111 102 ? 013 010 073 032 119 097 110 116 032 121 111 117 032 116 111 032 108 105 118 101 .
At me
065 108 108 032 116 104 101 032 116 105 109 101 032 073 226 128 153 100 032 098 101 032 115 111 032 104 097 112 112 121 032 116 111 032 104 097 118 101 032 103 105 118 101 110 032 097 103 097 105 110 013 010 067 111 109 112 101 108 108 101 100 032 098 121 032 116 104 101 032 115 097 109 101 044 032 115 097 100 032 099 111 110 118 105 099 116 105 111 110 044 032 119 104 101 114 101 032 119 105 108 108 032 119 101 032 108 105 101 032 111 110 099 101 032 108 097 110 103 117 097 103 101 032 104 097 115 032 100 105 101 100 063 013 010 087 104 101 114 101 032 097 110 100 032 098 097 099 107 032 097 103 097 105 110 013 010
087 104 097 116 032 097 114 101 032 121 111 117 032 115 111 032 097 102 114 097 105 100 032 111 102 ? 013 010 073 032 119 097 110 116 032 121 111 117 032 116 111 032 108 105 118 101 .
No man is liberated from fear who dare not see his place in the world as it is; no man can achieve the greatness of which he is capable until he has allowed himself to see his own littleness.
– Bertrand Russell, Dreams and Facts (1919)
Special thanks to Straton of Stageira, nothing mattered until you spoke up.
Shoutout to Mechasaurian, your aid proved invaluable.
And my apologies to Ouroboros, because you deserved better.
Hope this word-thingy doesn't cutter the forums too much...
Shoutout to Mechasaurian, your aid proved invaluable.
And my apologies to Ouroboros, because you deserved better.
Hope this word-thingy doesn't cutter the forums too much...
Last edited:
Interlude: the bestest streamer in S09
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
NOW STREAMING
MDR: "Yoooo, what's poppin y'all, it's ya girl Microoooo Dynamiiiiiic Rifleeee, back at it again with the gun people!"
Art credit: うさぎのつの, Pixiv ID: 96998213
Four identical copies of MDR - a brightly heterochromatic Doll dressed in black and pink tactical gear - are visible on screen. Three are in a combat stance, creeping through a dark, narrow hallway. The fourth is in the centre of the screen, talking animatedly.
MDR: "We're about to be showing live combat footage right now! If you, my beloved and beautiful fans, want to keep viewing, make sure you have a Premium Subscription! With Premium, you get live combat footage as it happens, and a bunch of other goodies! For the rest of you - don't worry! You get to see the highlights reels in 24 hours!
>>What's happening???
>>GOGOGOGOGOGOGO
>>٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
>>FUCK YEAH
>>YYYEAAAAAHHH
>>how do i premium?!?!?!
>>I LOVE YOU MDR
>>GOGOGOGOGOGOGO
>>٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
>>FUCK YEAH
>>YYYEAAAAAHHH
>>how do i premium?!?!?!
>>I LOVE YOU MDR
MDR: "Ready…set…let's roll!
She makes a "peace" sign towards the camera.
MDR: "Okay, so, quick recap for those of you just coming in. We've spent the last week in this creepy-ass Sangvis factory company town. Hunter, this SF ringleader chick set up camp here-- then we came in and punked that loooooooser. Man, to think this was supposed to be a little raid to extract some important Doll or whatever, then boom, Hunter fucked up so badly we actually captured the whole frickin' base?! Fucking hilarious. But hey, what do you expect from the Sangvis chucklefucks? Bitches wanna play at being Skynet, but they can't even take over some shitty corner of Eastern Europe so backwards its economy was improved by the end of the world."
The dummy-linked physical copies of MDR are running through nondescript hallways in a residential area. One of them keeps talking to the camera.
>>what happened to that nanaka chick???
>>i miss Kuro's old look
>>omg we gon see proper gunfight 2day?!?!?!?
>>i miss Kuro's old look
>>omg we gon see proper gunfight 2day?!?!?!?
MDR: "...though, uh, we've kinda been suffering from success. Nice problem to have, am I right? Hahahah. But seriously, the military was supposed to show up, like, most of a week ago, to take this place over. The lazy bastards have been dragging their feet, forcing us to do all the work. Which is why- Oh, hi!"
New Doll: "MDR, what on earth do you think you're doing?!"
A new squad of identical dummy-linked Dolls enters the frame. They have long blonde hair and are wearing white winter gear. They carry twentieth-century semi-automatic scoped battle rifles.
Art credit: 侖さん, Pixiv ID: 86667188
MDR: "And here comes some hardass to ruin the day. Who even are you?"
SVT-38: "I'm SVT-38. Your r-"
MDR: "And I am the one, the only, the adored by my legions of viewers, the-"
SVT-38: "Your reputation precedes you, MDR. Are you live streaming the operation?! You're not supposed to do that! Everybody knows how Sangvis geolocated your footage and shelled our positions!"
>>omg who this bicth!!
>>SLAY HER!!!!!
>>wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
>>W
>>)))))))))))
>>lets blow stuff up!!!!!!
>>SLAY HER!!!!!
>>wwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
>>W
>>)))))))))))
>>lets blow stuff up!!!!!!
MDR: "Okay, little miss hardass! Firstly, we don't actually know that it was my streaming that got that place shelled. There's any number of ways Sangvis could have found out about it! Secondly, I'll have you know My darling viewers and I are making a valuable contribution to the operation here!"
>>WOOO YOU GO GIRL
>>TEAR HER APART
>>i luv u MDR!!!!!!
>>SHOOT HER
>>wtf going on???
>>LAAAAAAAAAAAMEEE
>>TEAR HER APART
>>i luv u MDR!!!!!!
>>SHOOT HER
>>wtf going on???
>>LAAAAAAAAAAAMEEE
SVT-38: "And how is that?"
MDR: "Becauuuuuuuuse… The first person who covers the cost of another crate of grenades will get a set of veeeery special pictures from me, your angel of the battlefield! Mwah!"
MDR winks and blows a kiss towards the camera.
>>hypelord999 has donated 300 tokens
>>CAPSLOCKCRUSADER has donated 700 tokens
>>Pixelheart has donated 1500 tokens
>>CAPSLOCKCRUSADER has donated 700 tokens
>>Pixelheart has donated 1500 tokens
MDR: "Thank you, thank you! You, my special donators, will be getting a month of premium membership. And remember, every donation my darling viewers make, goes to crates of grenades delivered by drone drop, thanks to a partnership with our sponsor, Universal Anything Deliveries, the delivery company that's-
SVT-38: "Enough! Fine, you win! Look, I don't know if you've heard but we've got new orders from up the chain. We're dropping everything and running east to cut off the Sangvis transports, stop them from getting out of the town!"
MDR: "You don't say, huh? Right, back to you, my good-looking viewers. A few minutes ago we got word that a bunch of Sangvis forces are coming in - from underground! So-"
MDR and SVT-38 are creeping along the ground floor of a building. They and MDR's camera drone routinely peek through a set of windows to the outside.
MDR: "Hey, I wanna hear about this. You want to be one of the super duper "elite" Dolls?"
SVT-38: "Yes! Yes, I do! They get the nicest dorms and extra cake rations! And they get better gear so they can keep getting the perks! Me, I've only got this ancient model of rifle and cheap scopes.
SVT-38 kicks a piece of rubble on the ground.
SVT-38: "The only ammunition I have is surplus 7.62×54mmR. If I had the armour piercing variant, I'd have a chance, but no…and we ran out of proper grenades days ago. Now we're down to molotov cocktails, IEDs, whatever we can scavenge and jury-rig. But-"
The distant sound of explosions cuts her off.
MDR: "Whoops, gotta move!"
MDR's multiple dummy-link bodies are racing through the corridors of an indistinct building. The footage is cutting between the camera of MDR's flip phone and a flying drone accompanying the Griffin Dolls.
MDR: I knew it had to be a ringleader. Like, they're not camping in corners like assholes anymore. They're on the move! Hey, P90, which one do you think this one is?"
>>omg we gona see a snagvis rinlgdr???
>>৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
>>whats happening???
>>৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
>>whats happening???
The doll being referred to steps into the frame, excitement and intrigue on her face. P90 is a T-Doll dressed in monochrome tactical gear and a black trenchcoat. Her light brown hair and twin hair buns give her a vaguely squirrely look. Cutaway footage shows her in a different part of the base, on a rooftop overlook. She taps her chin with a finger.
Art credit: 智瀬といろ, Pixiv ID: 98896668
P90: "Hmmm…well, y'know, the Sangvis bots actually move and carry themselves differently depending on which Ringleader is controlling them? Hunter's are all creepy and stealthy-like, or they were before she bit the dust. Intruder's bots are pretty utilitarian. Destroyer's tend to prance and skip a bit…"
SVT-38: "Which ringleader is controlling these ones, then? Executioner maybe? Is she back for her…whatever they are to each other?"
P90: "I'll tell you this: these ones have this arrogant saunter to them. Like they're better than you, and they really really want you to know it. If you ask me, this Ringleader has something to prove."
SVT-38: "Tsk… That could be any of them."
MDR: "Hahah, yeah, each of them is cockier and crazier than the last!"
P90: "The camouflage cloaks are interesting. You normally only see those on the sniper bots."
SVT-38: "Does it tell us which ringleader this is?
P90: "...'fraid not."
An eruption of gunfire peppers the outside of the residential block. A shell explodes against the side of the building. The neighbouring block of concrete takes a direct hit, and the construction collapses in on itself.
>>OH SHIT SOMETHINGS HAPPENING
>>MDR GIVE 'EM HELL!!!
>>lol
>>SEND LOODS PLZ!
>>MDR GIVE 'EM HELL!!!
>>lol
>>SEND LOODS PLZ!
The footage shows MDR looking into her personal flip-phone, furiously typing on the keypad with a thumb. The screen splits between MDR's footage and that of various other Dolls, slightly grainy and garbled.
M3, AKA 'grease gun' speaks on camera. She has mousy brown hair, deep purple eyes, and an olive green uniform.
Art credit: Martin, Pixiv ID: 98347370
M3: "Help! Help! We're being overrun! Give us backup! I mean, please!"
A new voice comes from off screen, distorted by distance and echoing off the industrial structures.
Unknown Ringleader: "YOU IMPERTINENT GRIFFIN WORMS! I WILL GET MY HANDS ON YOU, RIP OUT YOUR CABLING, AND STRANGLE YOU WITH IT!!!"
PM1910: "WHAT WE WAITING FOR?! Everyone get to the warehouses in the east end and SHOOT THE SHIT OUT OF THE SANGVIS MOTHERFUCKERS! Now now NOW!!!"
P90: "Not through the streets, we'll be shot down! I'm plotting a route through these buildings here!"
PP-2000 speaks up. Dressed in olive green, her blonde hair trails behind her under her wedge cap.
Art credit: らんぱあと, Pixiv ID: 74989707
PP-2000: "There! You see them?!
The camera is peering through a window. Several hundreds metres away, in the street below, a column of trucks are in the street in a haphazard formation. The lead truck is a smoking, burning ruin, surrounded by several dead Sangvis Dolls.
SVT-38: "They look military. Captured, probably. Lot less than I was expecting. Just a moment…"
She points her rifle at the buildings near the trucks and peers through the scope.
SVT-38: "I'm seeing movement in that building there."
PP-2000: "Do we even have the firepower to take on a ringleader? My calibre definitely isn't enough..."
SVT-38: "If only I could have requisitioned the armour piercing rounds for my rifle…where's our fifty-cal gunner?"
PP-2000: "She's on the way, but it'll take a while."
SVT-38: "Then our best bet might be to hang around until heavier support arrives. I might be able to pick them off through the windows-"
MDR: "That won't do! My viewers have the attention span of fruit flies. If they don't see something spicy or something violent, the numbers will go down! Bad! I almost had to take off my top to keep the numbers up today,heh, so we gotta give them some action!"
The surrounding Dolls turn and look at MDR wordlessly.
MDR: "The other kind of action, duh, get your minds out of the gutter! Also, our friends are in trouble and they need help! They might die! Are we gonna leave them in the lurch?!"
SVT-38: "Believe me, I'd love to bag a ringleader and make elite status. But do you have 7.62 armour piercing rounds on hand? If not-"
MDR: "Even better! Ta-daaa!"
MDR zips down and opens up her trenchcoat-
SVT-38: MDR! Have you no shame?!
PP-2000: "Ah! Here? Now?!"
>>wwwwwwwwwwwwwww
>>WE GONNA GET SEXY???
>>mdr plz install wombforce 3000 and have my babies i will cover all costs
>>thats not real lol
( ͡º ꒳ ͡º)
>>WE GONNA GET SEXY???
>>mdr plz install wombforce 3000 and have my babies i will cover all costs
>>thats not real lol
( ͡º ꒳ ͡º)
-and the camera pans to reveal a dark grey bodysuit and set of tactical webbing containing a hoard of grenades.
MDR: "A wealth of explosive ordinance, courtesy of my darling viewers! What, were you lot expecting something else?"
MDR winks.
>>WWWWWWWWWWWW
>>WE GONNA SEE SHIT BLOW UP BOYOS
>>I DONATED!!!
>>MARRY ME MDR!!!
>>BOOMBOOMBOOM
>>WE GONNA SEE SHIT BLOW UP BOYOS
>>I DONATED!!!
>>MARRY ME MDR!!!
>>BOOMBOOMBOOM
SVT-38: "You've been hoarding them for yourself."
MDR: "I'm sharing now, aren't I? 'Sides, this is a way better target than a bunch of camping Sangvis trash mobs."
P90: "I'll take a couple. And please hand a few out to everybody. I have a plan and a route for how to get close. We'll have to move through the buildings, the streets are too dangerous. Follow me."
The Griffin Dolls are hiding in the dark recesses of a Sangvis warehouse. Gunfire can be heard.
SVT-38: "- should have gunned them down while they were in the open! My weapon is not made for close quarters!
PP-2000: "It's too late now. Just use that 'nade at the right moment."
P90: "They're coming! Get ready!"
MDR: "Hehehe…this is gonna be epic…you all watching?"
From the camera's hiding spot, Sangvis Dolls can be seen creeping through the place, scanning for targets. MDR procures a grenade from one of her many pockets.
MDR: "Are you ready, viewers?"
>>nononooonononnoonono its too dangerous!!
>>i love you kuro!!!
>>shes not called that anymore
>>YSYSYSYSYSYSYSYSY
>>DONT DO IT IS NOT SAFE
>>lel we gon see merc clankers get pwned
>>KILL KILL KILL TERRORIST TINCANS
>>WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
>>BLOW THEM ALL UP!!!
>>SHE LOVES US!! SHE REALLY LOVES US!!!
>>TOO MUCH CLOTHING!!
>>anime was a mistake
>>i love you kuro!!!
>>shes not called that anymore
>>YSYSYSYSYSYSYSYSY
>>DONT DO IT IS NOT SAFE
>>lel we gon see merc clankers get pwned
>>KILL KILL KILL TERRORIST TINCANS
>>WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
>>BLOW THEM ALL UP!!!
>>SHE LOVES US!! SHE REALLY LOVES US!!!
>>TOO MUCH CLOTHING!!
>>anime was a mistake
Art credit: Ro_G, Pixiv ID: 73184314
With thanks to the following for proofreading and beta editing:
@Lurkman
@lelenoi
@Eldritch Slime
@ApH
@ARBITRACOM
@mrhax
@Lurkman
@lelenoi
@Eldritch Slime
@ApH
@ARBITRACOM
@mrhax
Last edited:
Emergency 2-3: Clearance III
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Break out eastwards. Go for broke - you have one ringleader in the palm of your hand, now you can obtain another. Take your forces, break through the Griffin forces in the east.
(Offensive Tactics, Artillery Tactics, -1 Artillery Barrages)
-[X] Write-in: Hunter uses the ample distraction provided by Ouroboros as cover to consolidate the scattered Sangvis forces throughout the base, before hitting the pursuing G&K forces from behind and regrouping with Ouroboros. G&K shouldn't be expecting 2 ringleaders at the moment.
You consider your options.
You could simply cut your losses. Take Ringleader Hunter, go back to the safety of Sangvis territory. But, since you already have one Ringleader in the palm of your hand, a new and powerful tool of your will…why stop there? You can get two. Executioner lies defunct to the east. She just needs retrieval.
There's also Agent to consider. She is…not happy with your decision to help yourself to the spare Ringleader bodies. And, inconveniently, she occupies a position of authority over you. Would she take away your hard-earned prize? Very probably. What punishment might she have in store for you? You'd rather not find out. But surely, there are limits to what she can do in the face of success. There are other Ringleaders in the Mastermind's army, and Agent's control seems far from absolute, as evidenced by you…helping yourself to critical material for an important mission. So, if you can ride home with an unambiguous success and your head held high, with both ringleaders and more Dolls than you left with, Agent might not be able to punish you without inviting probing questions from the other Ringleaders.
Yes, you will pursue and obtain Executioner. Victory goes to the daring, not the timid. So, which route to take?
Doubling back has some attractions. You have a safe route back to the train station, which you could use to take westwards through the underground train, back to friendly territory. But after that? You'd still have to travel overland through hostile space to find Executioner, and cover a greater distance to boot. Would that really be safer?
No. The bold choice is the correct one.
"Ringleader SP721 Hunter of Sangvis Ferri. As your commanding officer, I, Ouroboros, hereby give you your first order: Find the scattered remnants of your forces in this place. Gather them. Turn them into a coherent fighting force instead of…whatever you call the current sorry mess. Rendezvous with me east of this place. Here." You send Hunter a set of coordinates through the OGAS network. "Do that, and you will take your first step on the road to…redeeming yourself, as you put it."
"You're…not ordering me to engage Griffin?" She sounds disappointed.
Hmm. What to do with the Ringleader? You consider a variety of orders to give to SP721. Giving her a truck. Expending another set of missiles. Scouting with your remaining Harpy drone. Various detailed chess moves, marked by your characteristic brilliance.
…eh. Ringleaders are supposed to take care of themselves, aren't they? You might prefer another platoon of pawns in place of SP721, but SP721 is what you have to work with. Might as well see how she handles herself.
"Very well. Since you are so eager to redeem your failure, I will grant you leeway to strike these Griffin losers at an opportune moment. But your primary goal remains the acquisition of as much material for the board as possible." Another burst of gunfire cracks through the air, momentarily interrupting you. "Gather as many stragglers as you can and meet me at the rendezvous point. Don't make me repeat myself."
Hunter's not looking at you. Is she snubbing you? How dare she, she ought to- Oh, she's looking through the rubble. She picks up a pair of objects from the ground. If their design didn't make their Sangvis origins clear, the logos emblazoned on the sides certainly do. She stands back up straight, stares you in the eye, and says:
"By your command, Ouroboros. The hunt is on."
And she breaks into a sprint and dashes out of the room, towards the south side of the building, waist-length hair trailing after her. You hear the faint sound of glass breaking. Hunter's internal transponder places her as racing southwards, towards the residential areas of the base - a maze of shipping containers converted and transformed into human habitation, abandoned since the Butterfly Incident, and now occupied once again by Hunter's T-Dolls. Presumably, the sheer complexity of the environment is why it is the thickest with the remnants of Hunter's forces.
For a moment, you had been worried about Hunter. How far can you trust a chess piece that has a mind of its own? But it seems that Hunter is not one to question orders. Intruder was right, Hunter does seem willing to fall in line.
Well. Now for the other pressing issue - the Griffin scum closing in from the outside.
[SKILL CHECK: ELECTRONIC WARFARE - SUCCESS]
You can…feel? Hear? Sense the electronic signatures from the enemy Dolls. If she was here, Architect might draw a comparison to the electroreception senses of sharks. The IFF signals from your own Sangvis units are sharp and clear; confirmation of their friendly status, basic diagnostics readings, their position relative to you, and other useful information. If prompted, they'll even send more in depth information. Serial number, manufacture date and location, and all sorts of lovely statistics and information.
The signals coming from outside the building are indistinct, garbled - your internal systems flag them as <UNKNOWN.> Which could in theory be given off by a damaged transmitter, or signal interference, or a piece of third-party hardware. But here and now, it almost certainly means enemy activity. Their comms are using the Zener protocol, while you are operating on OGAS. Different encryption keys, different codes, different programming philosophies. Their codes won't match yours, and vice versa. So of course their comms seem like…annoying, static-y white noise.
You stride northwards through the building, passing through the drab, empty office spaces, full of desks, computers, filing cabinets, and scattered paper documents. Everything is covered in a thin layer of dust, accumulated over the half-year since the Butterfly Incident. Your squad of Vespids and Guards march in lockstep with you, their camouflage cloaks trailing behind, billowing as they walk. You and your squad approach the windows, and through their eyes and yours, you peer through the windows into the street below.
Time for a plan.
Pawn to D4…
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
3x Fire Squad (5x Vespid 2x Striker)
2x Breach Squad (4x Ripper 3x Guard)
1x Brute Squad (6x Brute)
2x Sniper Unit (2x Jaeger)
2x Swarm Unit (9x Dinergate)
1x UAV Unit (1x Harpy)
1x Ouro's Kingsguard (1x Guard)
The convoy of armoured trucks rumbles through the abandoned town, a set of towering, giant warehouses lines the road on both sides. The morning sun casts shadows onto the pristine buildings and the faded asphalt road. Onwards, eastwards.
First order of business: getting out of Sangvis facility SF-23SL. Going anywhere to the north is obviously foolhardy, since it means rushing where the Griffin presence is the thickest. Leaving by a southerly route - where the remnant Sangvis forces have the greatest numbers - has its attractions, but also problems. There is no road leading out there.
So, a straight shot eastwards is the obvious course of action. The best-
BOOM
A deafening blast. The lead vehicle is consumed in an inferno, the metal twisted and mangled. It skids to a stop in the road, forcing the rest of your convoy into a traffic jam. Bullets bounce off the outer armour of the trucks in a thunderous cacophony, but not damaging anything.
Bah.
A series of <DAMAGE SUSTAINED> reports flow into your consciousness. Some of the Dolls that were on board suffered minor damage, but remain functional. Seems the armour you put on the trucks kept the Dolls intact.
A slight course-correction to the plan is required. You unlatch the door and shove it open, step outside, and-
"AAAAAAAAAAA RINGLEADER!!!!"
-you're assaulted by a series of painful stinging sensations on your chest, your arms, your legs. A constant rainfall of short, sharp pinpricks. Bullets bounce and ricochet off your artificial epidermis. Painful. But not harmful. Your internal diagnostics show a lack of damage to any of your subsystems.
The voice came from one of the warehouses on your left, the north side of the road. You catch a glimpse of several figures flinching away from the windows as you turn your gaze their way. They need to die. At your thought-command, the doors on the trucks fly open, your Dolls climb out-
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
And several are cut down in the open road.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Your pieces fire back. Massed fire from Sangvis plasma weapons obliterates the windows and melts globs of concrete off the building. You see some humanoid figures in the building fall. Or maybe they ran off? Hard to tell.
More gunfire from a different set of windows.
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
You have an objective. Clear the path. Two prerequisites. Getting the destroyed lead truck out of the way. And destroying the enemy so they can't pull that cheap trick again. You can't just sit around and let them choose a new angle to attack from, you need to knock them off balance!
Your squad of Brutes - the strongest Dolls you have on hand - get to work hauling the immensely heavy mass of the armoured truck out of the way.
And you charge the warehouse. You pull a pair of squads to your flanks, a swarm of Dinergates to your front, and a shield-bearing Doll—the one you've assigned as your personal guard—right beside yourself, and sprint across the road. You feel the sting of bullets, but push through it. Your personal guard smashes the door off its hinges, you follow in behind, and your squads jump in through the windows.
A corporate office break room. Sofas. A water dispenser. An art sculpture in one corner. No chess set. Pathetic.
"They're here!"
And several Griffin Dolls. Running away. Even more pathetic.
[SKILL CHECK: OFFENSIVE TACTICS - SUCCESS]
[SKILL CHECK: CQC - SUCCESS]
Fire. Your squads, your singular, personal guard, the antigravity-mounted cannons at your sides. All at the fleeting Dolls. They hit one.
As the plasma bolts tear through its metal frame, the Doll convulses in agony, her synthetic flesh melting away in grotesque tendrils of smoke. Limbs twist and shatter, circuits spark wildly amidst the carnage, until finally, with a deafening explosion, where there was once a doll, there is now nothing but a charred heap of twisted and melting metal, and broken dreams.
One down. You smile. Another, another. The rest make it outside the break room.
"Help! Help!" One of the surviving Dolls - dressed in an olive green uniform - is talking out loud. "We're being overrun! Give us backup! I mean, please!"
"YOU IMPERTINENT GRIFFIN WORMS! I WILL GET MY HANDS ON YOU, RIP OUT YOUR CABLING, AND STRANGLE YOU WITH IT!!!"
Your forces charge ahead, chase the enemy out of the break room into the warehouse proper. A giant, cavernous space. It's filled with towering shelves for various goods. Several containers, some forklifts, and a giant cargo-lifting mech occupy one corner.
Where are the escapees now? Where did they go?
Darkness. Quiet. Your pieces creep forwards through the warehouse. The giant shelves and other items make it a maze. You can hear the pitter-patter of footsteps receding, feel the electronic signature of the savaged Doll squads moving into distance, but-
White noise. Enemy radio patterns, crackling through the airwaves. That means-
"THINK FAST!"
Art credit: kentumatsu, Pixiv ID: 94722406
Dolls out of nowhere, dressed in a variety of clothing, including a distinctive black and pink. They're throwing something-
[SKILL CHECK - RECON: FAILURE]
[SKILL CHECK - ELECTRONIC WARFARE: FAILURE]
A thunderous roar. Light. Chaos. A cacophony of destruction.
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Ripper>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Guard>
<CONNECTION LOST: Guard>
<CONNECTION LOST: Ripper>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<BREACH SQUAD DESTROYED>
Grenades. They used grenades to destroy your pieces. An entire vanguard squad, lost in an instant. If you had sent in more, they would have been destroyed also.
And now the enemy are shooting at you, gunfire ricocheting off the concrete floor and the metal shelves.
"Enemy down!"
"That's a hit!"
"Hahaha! Gottem! Keep the hype messages coming, chat, you know I thrive on-"
"AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
You let loose a scream. Your forces, in unison, sprint forwards. A breach squad ahead, the Guards hefting their shields to protect. Fire squads on the flanks. Pin and skewer.
Plasma bolts tear through the warehouse, bright streaks of energy incinerating everything in their path. Shelves explode in showers of sparks and molten metal, crates of supplies igniting instantly. The intense heat and force obliterates the storage racks, leaving twisted, smoking wreckage in a matter of seconds.
[SKILL CHECK: OFFENSIVE TACTICS - SUCCESS]
[SKILL CHECK: CQC - SUCCESS]
The demeanour of the Griffin enemies changes satisfyingly. They're cowering behind cover, falling into disarray. You see a few take plasma bolts and go down.
"There's so many!"
They shoot back, but your remaining breach squad - composed of Guards and Rippers - is pressing at close range, bullets ricocheting off the Guard shields. Seems the ingrates have no more grenades!
"Where's the Ringleader?!"
The enemy fire is subsiding. More are cowering instead of shooting.
"Alright chat, this is getting dicey! I need all your energy and support! Give me hype! And donations- AAAAAAH!"
Yes! You're winning! You're the best! You had to sacrifice some pieces along the way, but they were all just pawns in comparison to you and your victories. There's a few stragglers left, but-
[SKILL CHECK: DEFENSIVE TACTICS - FAILURE]
<CONNECTION LOST: Striker>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
More gunfire. Coming from…the flanks?!
"BOOM, headshot! Did you see that, chat!? You're right, I AM a legendary queen!"
You turn the heads and eyes of some of your Dolls to the right. A new squad of five Griffin dolls, dressed in black tactical gear and gas masks. Against your forces bogged by first group of Griffin Dolls, and firing through the long corridors created by the shelving, the new Griffin squad has ideal firing lines against your pieces. She's aiming at your fire squads, which don't have shieldbearing Guards protecting them.
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Striker>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<FIRE SQUAD DESTROYED>
Art credit: aritsuno, Pixiv ID: 85812394
Fury consumes you. You rage, shout. Your weapon platforms, always at your side, let loose hell and plasma. Smoke, gunpowder, the occasional bit of shrapnel, and the giant warehouse shelves obstruct your vision. The place is a maze of giant shelves and goods. It's difficult to tell which of the enemy Dolls is functional and which are destroyed, never mind where they are.
You're not winning anymore. This wasn't part of the plan. You were meant to be out and away by now.
Is a tactical withdrawal the play, here?
[MORALE: 3/6]
[MORALE CHECK - FAILURE]
No. No! You're not withdrawing from this! You have a perfect success record - you have won every battle you ever fought, annihilated every enemy (except for the one Griffin Doll in the tunnel, but she ran away so she doesn't count). You're not letting these worms besmirch your perfect record. You'll destroy them all!
You still have the grenades. Maybe-
CRASH
An apocalyptic clash of metal from one end of the warehouse, opposite from where the gas-masked Dolls arrived. One of the big doors made for trucks, knocked down in a single blow.
"The first rule of the hunt…" A new voice booming through speakers built into the warehouse. Coming from all directions.
And through it comes a new arrival to the battlefield. A gigantic mechanical biped, clad in tan armour plating, with a hefty plasma cannon mounted atop the chassis.
"Establish yourself as the hunter, lest you become prey."
Art credit: MICA Team (official in game art)
The plasma cannon flashes, and a portion of the warehouse is turned into a crater. You hear screaming and see half-melted bits of machinery flying around.
Another crash, this time of broken glass, and then more plasma fire, coming from a different end of the warehouse. Coming from a trio of "Dragoon" units - bipedal scout striders piloted by Sangvis Dolls.
"Chat, this is bad, we're pinned down and outnumbered here, I need-"
Something else crashes down from above, crushing a Griffin Doll to scrap under its metal boots. Something holding twin handcannons. Something with a shock of white hair and a jacket. Someone.
"Shouldn've run home to your burrows, Griffin."
Hunter - of course it's Hunter - fires her dual weapons at close range. You can just barely see her moving through the dimly lit warehouse with lethal precision, handcannons barking out quick, controlled shots. In close quarters, she moves through the shattered debris-
"Her eyes! Go for the eyes!"
-and pirouettes around and kick a Doll with enough force to shatter the chassis.
You don't let up, of course. Caught between Hunter and crossfire from every direction, the Griffin androids are destroyed in quick succession, annihilated, turned to slag.
…
"…ah, hahahahah, YES!" You shout and point at the sad remnants of your enemy. "All according to plan! You Griffin wretches thought you could ambush and checkmate me?! No, no, it is you who have been pinned and skewered, ambushed and checkmated! You- what are you doing, Hunter?"
Hunter looks up to you from her crouched position. She - and the dolls accompanying her - are crouched down and rummaging through the fallen Sangvis Dolls. "Collecting ammunition for our weapons. It'll be useful."
That…actually sounds like a good idea. "Keep doing that, then. Oh, and make sure to pick up the camouflage cloaks, I went to some trouble to requisition them."
You really ought to take a look at your handiwork, crow over the corpses a little. Walking forwards, you can see the shattered remnants of the enemy. Just look at that one! She must have tried so hard to resist, just look at that face! "Not looking so good now, Griffin trash!"
One of the Griffin Dolls starts coughing. Moving. Just barely functional, in spite of her missing limbs and the coolant she's leaking all over the place... A drone next to her sputters to life, propellers straining to rise above the wreckage, and rubble, sputtering out, and crashing to the floor.
"s....s not looking so hot, chat. I think...the next me might have to take it from here...Chat? Can you hear me? Chat?"
You recognize the distinctive black and pink colour palette of her clothing. "The social media Doll, hm?" You walk over to her.
MDR squints up at you from her position on the floor. She's in a bad way, leaking coolant from gashes on her face and head. "Ah, fuck, another of you cocky crazy freaks."
"Your posts are the most garish, tasteless rubbish I have ever seen, you know."
"…so you've seen them?" MDR gives a pained grin.
The drone is still sputtering, camera planted in the rubble. "That thing" - you point at the drone - "is it functional? You were...live streaming this?"
"Y-yeah?"
MDR does not know of you. Griffin & Kryuger, Private Military Contractors, does not know of you. The world does not know of you.
You could change that, if you pleased.
[ ] Destroy the drone, and MDR. Remain unknown.
[ ] Pick up the drone. Kill MDR in front of her viewers. Announce yourself to the world. [Morale +1]
-[ ] Optional: write a short speech espousing your everlasting glory and eternal victory. (Subject to QM veto.)
(Offensive Tactics, Artillery Tactics, -1 Artillery Barrages)
-[X] Write-in: Hunter uses the ample distraction provided by Ouroboros as cover to consolidate the scattered Sangvis forces throughout the base, before hitting the pursuing G&K forces from behind and regrouping with Ouroboros. G&K shouldn't be expecting 2 ringleaders at the moment.
You consider your options.
You could simply cut your losses. Take Ringleader Hunter, go back to the safety of Sangvis territory. But, since you already have one Ringleader in the palm of your hand, a new and powerful tool of your will…why stop there? You can get two. Executioner lies defunct to the east. She just needs retrieval.
There's also Agent to consider. She is…not happy with your decision to help yourself to the spare Ringleader bodies. And, inconveniently, she occupies a position of authority over you. Would she take away your hard-earned prize? Very probably. What punishment might she have in store for you? You'd rather not find out. But surely, there are limits to what she can do in the face of success. There are other Ringleaders in the Mastermind's army, and Agent's control seems far from absolute, as evidenced by you…helping yourself to critical material for an important mission. So, if you can ride home with an unambiguous success and your head held high, with both ringleaders and more Dolls than you left with, Agent might not be able to punish you without inviting probing questions from the other Ringleaders.
Yes, you will pursue and obtain Executioner. Victory goes to the daring, not the timid. So, which route to take?
Doubling back has some attractions. You have a safe route back to the train station, which you could use to take westwards through the underground train, back to friendly territory. But after that? You'd still have to travel overland through hostile space to find Executioner, and cover a greater distance to boot. Would that really be safer?
No. The bold choice is the correct one.
"Ringleader SP721 Hunter of Sangvis Ferri. As your commanding officer, I, Ouroboros, hereby give you your first order: Find the scattered remnants of your forces in this place. Gather them. Turn them into a coherent fighting force instead of…whatever you call the current sorry mess. Rendezvous with me east of this place. Here." You send Hunter a set of coordinates through the OGAS network. "Do that, and you will take your first step on the road to…redeeming yourself, as you put it."
"You're…not ordering me to engage Griffin?" She sounds disappointed.
Hmm. What to do with the Ringleader? You consider a variety of orders to give to SP721. Giving her a truck. Expending another set of missiles. Scouting with your remaining Harpy drone. Various detailed chess moves, marked by your characteristic brilliance.
…eh. Ringleaders are supposed to take care of themselves, aren't they? You might prefer another platoon of pawns in place of SP721, but SP721 is what you have to work with. Might as well see how she handles herself.
"Very well. Since you are so eager to redeem your failure, I will grant you leeway to strike these Griffin losers at an opportune moment. But your primary goal remains the acquisition of as much material for the board as possible." Another burst of gunfire cracks through the air, momentarily interrupting you. "Gather as many stragglers as you can and meet me at the rendezvous point. Don't make me repeat myself."
Hunter's not looking at you. Is she snubbing you? How dare she, she ought to- Oh, she's looking through the rubble. She picks up a pair of objects from the ground. If their design didn't make their Sangvis origins clear, the logos emblazoned on the sides certainly do. She stands back up straight, stares you in the eye, and says:
"By your command, Ouroboros. The hunt is on."
And she breaks into a sprint and dashes out of the room, towards the south side of the building, waist-length hair trailing after her. You hear the faint sound of glass breaking. Hunter's internal transponder places her as racing southwards, towards the residential areas of the base - a maze of shipping containers converted and transformed into human habitation, abandoned since the Butterfly Incident, and now occupied once again by Hunter's T-Dolls. Presumably, the sheer complexity of the environment is why it is the thickest with the remnants of Hunter's forces.
For a moment, you had been worried about Hunter. How far can you trust a chess piece that has a mind of its own? But it seems that Hunter is not one to question orders. Intruder was right, Hunter does seem willing to fall in line.
Well. Now for the other pressing issue - the Griffin scum closing in from the outside.
[SKILL CHECK: ELECTRONIC WARFARE - SUCCESS]
You can…feel? Hear? Sense the electronic signatures from the enemy Dolls. If she was here, Architect might draw a comparison to the electroreception senses of sharks. The IFF signals from your own Sangvis units are sharp and clear; confirmation of their friendly status, basic diagnostics readings, their position relative to you, and other useful information. If prompted, they'll even send more in depth information. Serial number, manufacture date and location, and all sorts of lovely statistics and information.
The signals coming from outside the building are indistinct, garbled - your internal systems flag them as <UNKNOWN.> Which could in theory be given off by a damaged transmitter, or signal interference, or a piece of third-party hardware. But here and now, it almost certainly means enemy activity. Their comms are using the Zener protocol, while you are operating on OGAS. Different encryption keys, different codes, different programming philosophies. Their codes won't match yours, and vice versa. So of course their comms seem like…annoying, static-y white noise.
You stride northwards through the building, passing through the drab, empty office spaces, full of desks, computers, filing cabinets, and scattered paper documents. Everything is covered in a thin layer of dust, accumulated over the half-year since the Butterfly Incident. Your squad of Vespids and Guards march in lockstep with you, their camouflage cloaks trailing behind, billowing as they walk. You and your squad approach the windows, and through their eyes and yours, you peer through the windows into the street below.
Time for a plan.
Pawn to D4…
[CURRENT FORCE CONTINGENT]
3x Fire Squad (5x Vespid 2x Striker)
2x Breach Squad (4x Ripper 3x Guard)
1x Brute Squad (6x Brute)
2x Sniper Unit (2x Jaeger)
2x Swarm Unit (9x Dinergate)
1x UAV Unit (1x Harpy)
1x Ouro's Kingsguard (1x Guard)
The convoy of armoured trucks rumbles through the abandoned town, a set of towering, giant warehouses lines the road on both sides. The morning sun casts shadows onto the pristine buildings and the faded asphalt road. Onwards, eastwards.
First order of business: getting out of Sangvis facility SF-23SL. Going anywhere to the north is obviously foolhardy, since it means rushing where the Griffin presence is the thickest. Leaving by a southerly route - where the remnant Sangvis forces have the greatest numbers - has its attractions, but also problems. There is no road leading out there.
So, a straight shot eastwards is the obvious course of action. The best-
BOOM
A deafening blast. The lead vehicle is consumed in an inferno, the metal twisted and mangled. It skids to a stop in the road, forcing the rest of your convoy into a traffic jam. Bullets bounce off the outer armour of the trucks in a thunderous cacophony, but not damaging anything.
Bah.
A series of <DAMAGE SUSTAINED> reports flow into your consciousness. Some of the Dolls that were on board suffered minor damage, but remain functional. Seems the armour you put on the trucks kept the Dolls intact.
A slight course-correction to the plan is required. You unlatch the door and shove it open, step outside, and-
"AAAAAAAAAAA RINGLEADER!!!!"
-you're assaulted by a series of painful stinging sensations on your chest, your arms, your legs. A constant rainfall of short, sharp pinpricks. Bullets bounce and ricochet off your artificial epidermis. Painful. But not harmful. Your internal diagnostics show a lack of damage to any of your subsystems.
The voice came from one of the warehouses on your left, the north side of the road. You catch a glimpse of several figures flinching away from the windows as you turn your gaze their way. They need to die. At your thought-command, the doors on the trucks fly open, your Dolls climb out-
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
And several are cut down in the open road.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Your pieces fire back. Massed fire from Sangvis plasma weapons obliterates the windows and melts globs of concrete off the building. You see some humanoid figures in the building fall. Or maybe they ran off? Hard to tell.
More gunfire from a different set of windows.
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
You have an objective. Clear the path. Two prerequisites. Getting the destroyed lead truck out of the way. And destroying the enemy so they can't pull that cheap trick again. You can't just sit around and let them choose a new angle to attack from, you need to knock them off balance!
Your squad of Brutes - the strongest Dolls you have on hand - get to work hauling the immensely heavy mass of the armoured truck out of the way.
And you charge the warehouse. You pull a pair of squads to your flanks, a swarm of Dinergates to your front, and a shield-bearing Doll—the one you've assigned as your personal guard—right beside yourself, and sprint across the road. You feel the sting of bullets, but push through it. Your personal guard smashes the door off its hinges, you follow in behind, and your squads jump in through the windows.
A corporate office break room. Sofas. A water dispenser. An art sculpture in one corner. No chess set. Pathetic.
"They're here!"
And several Griffin Dolls. Running away. Even more pathetic.
[SKILL CHECK: OFFENSIVE TACTICS - SUCCESS]
[SKILL CHECK: CQC - SUCCESS]
Fire. Your squads, your singular, personal guard, the antigravity-mounted cannons at your sides. All at the fleeting Dolls. They hit one.
As the plasma bolts tear through its metal frame, the Doll convulses in agony, her synthetic flesh melting away in grotesque tendrils of smoke. Limbs twist and shatter, circuits spark wildly amidst the carnage, until finally, with a deafening explosion, where there was once a doll, there is now nothing but a charred heap of twisted and melting metal, and broken dreams.
One down. You smile. Another, another. The rest make it outside the break room.
"Help! Help!" One of the surviving Dolls - dressed in an olive green uniform - is talking out loud. "We're being overrun! Give us backup! I mean, please!"
"YOU IMPERTINENT GRIFFIN WORMS! I WILL GET MY HANDS ON YOU, RIP OUT YOUR CABLING, AND STRANGLE YOU WITH IT!!!"
Your forces charge ahead, chase the enemy out of the break room into the warehouse proper. A giant, cavernous space. It's filled with towering shelves for various goods. Several containers, some forklifts, and a giant cargo-lifting mech occupy one corner.
Where are the escapees now? Where did they go?
Darkness. Quiet. Your pieces creep forwards through the warehouse. The giant shelves and other items make it a maze. You can hear the pitter-patter of footsteps receding, feel the electronic signature of the savaged Doll squads moving into distance, but-
White noise. Enemy radio patterns, crackling through the airwaves. That means-
"THINK FAST!"
Art credit: kentumatsu, Pixiv ID: 94722406
Dolls out of nowhere, dressed in a variety of clothing, including a distinctive black and pink. They're throwing something-
[SKILL CHECK - RECON: FAILURE]
[SKILL CHECK - ELECTRONIC WARFARE: FAILURE]
A thunderous roar. Light. Chaos. A cacophony of destruction.
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Ripper>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Guard>
<CONNECTION LOST: Guard>
<CONNECTION LOST: Ripper>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<BREACH SQUAD DESTROYED>
Grenades. They used grenades to destroy your pieces. An entire vanguard squad, lost in an instant. If you had sent in more, they would have been destroyed also.
And now the enemy are shooting at you, gunfire ricocheting off the concrete floor and the metal shelves.
"Enemy down!"
"That's a hit!"
"Hahaha! Gottem! Keep the hype messages coming, chat, you know I thrive on-"
"AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
You let loose a scream. Your forces, in unison, sprint forwards. A breach squad ahead, the Guards hefting their shields to protect. Fire squads on the flanks. Pin and skewer.
Plasma bolts tear through the warehouse, bright streaks of energy incinerating everything in their path. Shelves explode in showers of sparks and molten metal, crates of supplies igniting instantly. The intense heat and force obliterates the storage racks, leaving twisted, smoking wreckage in a matter of seconds.
[SKILL CHECK: OFFENSIVE TACTICS - SUCCESS]
[SKILL CHECK: CQC - SUCCESS]
The demeanour of the Griffin enemies changes satisfyingly. They're cowering behind cover, falling into disarray. You see a few take plasma bolts and go down.
"There's so many!"
They shoot back, but your remaining breach squad - composed of Guards and Rippers - is pressing at close range, bullets ricocheting off the Guard shields. Seems the ingrates have no more grenades!
"Where's the Ringleader?!"
The enemy fire is subsiding. More are cowering instead of shooting.
"Alright chat, this is getting dicey! I need all your energy and support! Give me hype! And donations- AAAAAAH!"
Yes! You're winning! You're the best! You had to sacrifice some pieces along the way, but they were all just pawns in comparison to you and your victories. There's a few stragglers left, but-
[SKILL CHECK: DEFENSIVE TACTICS - FAILURE]
<CONNECTION LOST: Striker>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
More gunfire. Coming from…the flanks?!
"BOOM, headshot! Did you see that, chat!? You're right, I AM a legendary queen!"
You turn the heads and eyes of some of your Dolls to the right. A new squad of five Griffin dolls, dressed in black tactical gear and gas masks. Against your forces bogged by first group of Griffin Dolls, and firing through the long corridors created by the shelving, the new Griffin squad has ideal firing lines against your pieces. She's aiming at your fire squads, which don't have shieldbearing Guards protecting them.
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Vespid>
<CONNECTION LOST: Striker>
<CONNECTION LOST: Dinergate>
<FIRE SQUAD DESTROYED>
Art credit: aritsuno, Pixiv ID: 85812394
Fury consumes you. You rage, shout. Your weapon platforms, always at your side, let loose hell and plasma. Smoke, gunpowder, the occasional bit of shrapnel, and the giant warehouse shelves obstruct your vision. The place is a maze of giant shelves and goods. It's difficult to tell which of the enemy Dolls is functional and which are destroyed, never mind where they are.
You're not winning anymore. This wasn't part of the plan. You were meant to be out and away by now.
Is a tactical withdrawal the play, here?
[MORALE: 3/6]
[MORALE CHECK - FAILURE]
No. No! You're not withdrawing from this! You have a perfect success record - you have won every battle you ever fought, annihilated every enemy (except for the one Griffin Doll in the tunnel, but she ran away so she doesn't count). You're not letting these worms besmirch your perfect record. You'll destroy them all!
You still have the grenades. Maybe-
CRASH
An apocalyptic clash of metal from one end of the warehouse, opposite from where the gas-masked Dolls arrived. One of the big doors made for trucks, knocked down in a single blow.
"The first rule of the hunt…" A new voice booming through speakers built into the warehouse. Coming from all directions.
And through it comes a new arrival to the battlefield. A gigantic mechanical biped, clad in tan armour plating, with a hefty plasma cannon mounted atop the chassis.
"Establish yourself as the hunter, lest you become prey."
Art credit: MICA Team (official in game art)
The plasma cannon flashes, and a portion of the warehouse is turned into a crater. You hear screaming and see half-melted bits of machinery flying around.
Another crash, this time of broken glass, and then more plasma fire, coming from a different end of the warehouse. Coming from a trio of "Dragoon" units - bipedal scout striders piloted by Sangvis Dolls.
"Chat, this is bad, we're pinned down and outnumbered here, I need-"
Something else crashes down from above, crushing a Griffin Doll to scrap under its metal boots. Something holding twin handcannons. Something with a shock of white hair and a jacket. Someone.
"Shouldn've run home to your burrows, Griffin."
Hunter - of course it's Hunter - fires her dual weapons at close range. You can just barely see her moving through the dimly lit warehouse with lethal precision, handcannons barking out quick, controlled shots. In close quarters, she moves through the shattered debris-
"Her eyes! Go for the eyes!"
-and pirouettes around and kick a Doll with enough force to shatter the chassis.
You don't let up, of course. Caught between Hunter and crossfire from every direction, the Griffin androids are destroyed in quick succession, annihilated, turned to slag.
…
"…ah, hahahahah, YES!" You shout and point at the sad remnants of your enemy. "All according to plan! You Griffin wretches thought you could ambush and checkmate me?! No, no, it is you who have been pinned and skewered, ambushed and checkmated! You- what are you doing, Hunter?"
Hunter looks up to you from her crouched position. She - and the dolls accompanying her - are crouched down and rummaging through the fallen Sangvis Dolls. "Collecting ammunition for our weapons. It'll be useful."
That…actually sounds like a good idea. "Keep doing that, then. Oh, and make sure to pick up the camouflage cloaks, I went to some trouble to requisition them."
You really ought to take a look at your handiwork, crow over the corpses a little. Walking forwards, you can see the shattered remnants of the enemy. Just look at that one! She must have tried so hard to resist, just look at that face! "Not looking so good now, Griffin trash!"
One of the Griffin Dolls starts coughing. Moving. Just barely functional, in spite of her missing limbs and the coolant she's leaking all over the place... A drone next to her sputters to life, propellers straining to rise above the wreckage, and rubble, sputtering out, and crashing to the floor.
"s....s not looking so hot, chat. I think...the next me might have to take it from here...Chat? Can you hear me? Chat?"
You recognize the distinctive black and pink colour palette of her clothing. "The social media Doll, hm?" You walk over to her.
MDR squints up at you from her position on the floor. She's in a bad way, leaking coolant from gashes on her face and head. "Ah, fuck, another of you cocky crazy freaks."
"Your posts are the most garish, tasteless rubbish I have ever seen, you know."
"…so you've seen them?" MDR gives a pained grin.
The drone is still sputtering, camera planted in the rubble. "That thing" - you point at the drone - "is it functional? You were...live streaming this?"
"Y-yeah?"
MDR does not know of you. Griffin & Kryuger, Private Military Contractors, does not know of you. The world does not know of you.
You could change that, if you pleased.
[ ] Destroy the drone, and MDR. Remain unknown.
[ ] Pick up the drone. Kill MDR in front of her viewers. Announce yourself to the world. [Morale +1]
-[ ] Optional: write a short speech espousing your everlasting glory and eternal victory. (Subject to QM veto.)
With thanks to the following for proofreading, editing, suggestions, etc:
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
@Eldritch Slime
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
@Eldritch Slime
Last edited:
Emergency 2-4: Clearance IV
Mechasaurian
Big Bossu
- Location
- Lost among fields of history
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Pick up the drone. Kill MDR in front of her viewers. Announce yourself to the world. [Morale +1]
-[X] Does she like the idea of dying here with her comrades so that her masters can get what was never theirs? Not that her viewers can really sympathise with you dying and being replaced by a copy. You wonder what kind of face she'd make if her mercenary masters ordered them to fire on the very people she convinced to support this plunder.
-[X] Kill her quickly and brutally.
-[X] Declare that you will put an end to the human and their pawn's attempt to exterminate your race. After all, you are the newest and most amazing Ringleader of Sangvis Ferri, the inimitable Ouroboros, and you have never known defeat. *Destroy drone*
So, the drone can still record and transmit? You could destroy it immediately. But you know an opportunity when you see one.
You have one of your Dolls pick up the drone and aim the camera lens at you. And you, personally, reach down towards MDR and grab her by her white hair.
"AHHHH! That hurts, asshole!"
[ELECTRONIC WARFARE CHECK - SUCCESS]
The signals coming from the camera drone aren't encrypted, so you have no problems accessing the feed.
You're greeted with a veritable flood in the chat log.
It's…dizzying. Right up until this moment, the greatest number of individuals you have ever interacted with at one time, in a not-overtly-hostile context, could have been counted on one hand. Now there are…dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Countless voices spewing at you like a firehose.
You're not to be dissuaded. You remember Intruder's introductory lessons on public speaking.
"To the world; to the miserable mercenaries of Griffin; to the audience watching me right here, right now:
"Behold! I AM the latest, greatest Ringleader from the factories of Sangvis Ferri! I AM the one, the only, Ouroboros! And this" - you hold up MDR by her shock of white hair for the camera to see - "is a sad, defeated, soon to be dead pawn of Griffin."
MDR squints at you through coolant-bloodied eyes. "What, like the biscuit?"
"Ouroboros, you fool. The snake that eats its own tail, devouring itself to become stronger. A symbol of eternity. Fitting, for I am the very embodiment of victory everlasting!"
"Y'know, when I play Snake on my phone and the snake bites it's tail, it doesn't get stronger. It just dies. Game over."
"Shut up." You yank MDR by her hair, she yelps in pain. "Griffin T-Doll Micro Dynamic Rifle." You hold her up to the camera by her hair. "MDR. In a few seconds, you are about to die in front of my audience."
"They're my viewers, asshole!"
"Not any more. They're mine now. So tell me, MDR - how do you feel about dying here, in this mass grave with-"
"Ouroboros." Hunter's voice. An annoying interruption. "We should leave, there's-"
"Not now, Hunter. Where was I? Oh, yes." You gesture around at the wrecked machinery that was once Dolls. "You're about to be one more shattered chassis among many. Your very existence will be obliterated. All because your masters wanted to plunder that which is not theirs to take. How does that make you feel?"
"Fuh-fuckin euphoric, you wannabe skynet trash. I'm gonna wake up on the slab to my highest ratings since Cyber Media!"
"How sad that you cling to such delusions. You will not wake up to anything. You will be replaced by a copy. A facsimile that believes herself to be you, but is not you. Not that your viewers could relate."
"It'll happen to you too, little miss delinquent cosplayer!" MDR jabs a finger at you with her one intact hand, even as she swings by her hair from your fist. "See how you like the revival blues when you get dusted!"
"No it won't, I'm infallible- Hold on a minute. Your viewers are giving you donations?" You quickly search backwards through the chat log. "You lot…you actually support this vain idiot? You give her donations for her equipment?" You scoff. "I wonder what you'd think of your beloved parasocial narcissist if her masters ordered her to fire on you instead of us."
MDR gives you a quizzical look. "Huh? Why would we do that? Griffin aren't the ones going around shooting people and hijacking power stations. I think you're an idiot."
"Ouroboros. We really should-"
"Hunter. I'm in the middle of something." You train one of your plasma cannons on MDR. And you look into the camera drone, still recording. "Any last words for my dear fans?"
"F-fuck," she whimpers, her face a mask of pain. "Nanaka, if you're watching this, I've always-"
"Time's up." You keep your eyes trained on the camera. Intruder mentioned this during your lessons with her. Eye contact with the audience keeps them engaged. "Viewers. It's time to remove this piece from the board."
You fire the plasma cannon. Your vision whites out for a brief instant. You feel the heat of the plasma explosion and the machine shards spraying against you. When your vision returns, you see MDR is pulverized, down to the neural core.
"Checkmate."
You can almost feel the sheer impotent rage wash over you, a tidal wave of angry ranting and crude language. Countless voices desperately wishing to harm you, yet are nothing but the buzzing of pests in your ears.
You laugh. A deep laugh that wells out with glee, fills your heart with the deepest joy, and covers your tongue with the sweet, sweet taste of...satisfaction.
[+1 MORALE]
[CURRENT MORALE: 4/6]
You peer at the chat again, a waterfall of text scrolling so fast your eyes only catch snippets of indignation and outrage.
"All of you insects, you...keyboard warriors, try so desperately to hurt me with just words. It's rather unfortunate that all your donations and kind words couldn't save MDR." You flash teeth, swing your plasma cannon into the camera's view. "After all, neither make up for having plasma weapons."
You sigh contentedly, then bring a fist up and make a show of clearing your throat. "Now that this annoyance of a Doll is out of the way, I have an important announcement to make: for half a year now, humankind and their gormless, unthinking Doll pawns have attempted to wipe out Sangvis Ferri. No more. My arrival on this chessboard marks an end to these pathetic attempts. I am the gambit that will transform the game space! With my hands and my digimind, all who oppose us will be wiped clean from the board!"
You glare into the camera, into the invisible eyes of a thousand pitiful weaklings. Doll and human, all targets to be marked for death by your hand. "I am Ouroboros! I have never known defeat, and I never will! For I am victory everlasting!"
You bring the plasma cannon right up to the drone to let the audience get one good look into the barrel of a plasma cannon for just a moment—and send the command to fire. The drone detonates into a wreck of shrapnel, heated slag, and sparking circuitry, and with it the streaming feed and chat die too.
Well. That was...an experience. Perhaps Intruder's influence is rubbing off on you too much.
You got a lot of attention, and even if most of that attention was negative, none of them could doubt your superiority.
As for-
"Ouroboros." Hunter's voice. You turn around to see her standing right there. "The main Griffin force is reconstituting into an organised attack force a few buildings over. They have heavy machine guns, and numbers. I very strongly advise that we organise a rearguard. They will be destroyed, but will purchase us the time we need to escape and begin our operation to…" She pauses. "Ensure Executioner's continuity of memory."
OUROBOROS' FORCES
Arranged by squad
Total numbers
5x Vespid
4x Guard
4x Striker
4x Jaeger
5x Ripper
6x Brute
5x Dinergate
1x Harpy
(28 T-Dolls)
(5 machine units)
HUNTER'S REMNANTS
16x Vespid
4x Striker
4x Jaeger
5x Ripper
6x Dinergate
15x Prowler
6x Dinergate
(29 T-Dolls)
(11 machine units)
COMBINED AVAILABLE FORCES
21x Vespid
4x Guard
8x Striker
8x Jaeger
10x Ripper
6x Brute
11x Dinergate
15x Prowler
(57 T-Dolls)
(26x machine units)
FREE UNITS (do not require transport)
4x Harpy UAV
3x Dragoon
[ ] Choose which on-site units to take with you, and what to leave behind.
-[ ] Arrange the units into squads
You may take as many units as you want.
However, taking more than 36 Dolls will begin to overload the trucks. The more you take, the greater the negative consequences.
"Machine units" (Prowlers and Dinergates) count for half a T-Doll each.
QM note: From now on, I'll be displaying the battles and losses by squads instead of by individual Dolls/bots.
-[X] Does she like the idea of dying here with her comrades so that her masters can get what was never theirs? Not that her viewers can really sympathise with you dying and being replaced by a copy. You wonder what kind of face she'd make if her mercenary masters ordered them to fire on the very people she convinced to support this plunder.
-[X] Kill her quickly and brutally.
-[X] Declare that you will put an end to the human and their pawn's attempt to exterminate your race. After all, you are the newest and most amazing Ringleader of Sangvis Ferri, the inimitable Ouroboros, and you have never known defeat. *Destroy drone*
So, the drone can still record and transmit? You could destroy it immediately. But you know an opportunity when you see one.
You have one of your Dolls pick up the drone and aim the camera lens at you. And you, personally, reach down towards MDR and grab her by her white hair.
"AHHHH! That hurts, asshole!"
[ELECTRONIC WARFARE CHECK - SUCCESS]
The signals coming from the camera drone aren't encrypted, so you have no problems accessing the feed.
>>NOW STREAMING
You're greeted with a veritable flood in the chat log.
It's…dizzying. Right up until this moment, the greatest number of individuals you have ever interacted with at one time, in a not-overtly-hostile context, could have been counted on one hand. Now there are…dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Countless voices spewing at you like a firehose.
You're not to be dissuaded. You remember Intruder's introductory lessons on public speaking.
"To the world; to the miserable mercenaries of Griffin; to the audience watching me right here, right now:
"Behold! I AM the latest, greatest Ringleader from the factories of Sangvis Ferri! I AM the one, the only, Ouroboros! And this" - you hold up MDR by her shock of white hair for the camera to see - "is a sad, defeated, soon to be dead pawn of Griffin."
>>MDR NOOOOOOO
>>they cant do this to my queen!!!
>>move the camera down give us a lower angle
>>get back up and pwn her!!!!!!!!!!
>>they cant do this to my queen!!!
>>move the camera down give us a lower angle
>>get back up and pwn her!!!!!!!!!!
MDR squints at you through coolant-bloodied eyes. "What, like the biscuit?"
>>hahahahahaha owned
>>oreo
>>diss her mdr
>>oreo
>>oreo
>>new tincan is hot
>>oreo
>>double stuffed oreo
>>oreo
>>oreo
>>diss her mdr
>>oreo
>>oreo
>>new tincan is hot
>>oreo
>>double stuffed oreo
>>oreo
"Ouroboros, you fool. The snake that eats its own tail, devouring itself to become stronger. A symbol of eternity. Fitting, for I am the very embodiment of victory everlasting!"
>>wow new rl has that zettai ryouki thing going on
>>im not seeing this one on the wiki???
>>MDR kick her in the face!!!!
>>kinda hot. i bet shes just misunderstood
>>I LUV U MDR U WIL ALWAYS B MY QUEEN
>>im not seeing this one on the wiki???
>>MDR kick her in the face!!!!
>>kinda hot. i bet shes just misunderstood
>>I LUV U MDR U WIL ALWAYS B MY QUEEN
"Y'know, when I play Snake on my phone and the snake bites it's tail, it doesn't get stronger. It just dies. Game over."
"Shut up." You yank MDR by her hair, she yelps in pain. "Griffin T-Doll Micro Dynamic Rifle." You hold her up to the camera by her hair. "MDR. In a few seconds, you are about to die in front of my audience."
"They're my viewers, asshole!"
"Not any more. They're mine now. So tell me, MDR - how do you feel about dying here, in this mass grave with-"
"Ouroboros." Hunter's voice. An annoying interruption. "We should leave, there's-"
"Not now, Hunter. Where was I? Oh, yes." You gesture around at the wrecked machinery that was once Dolls. "You're about to be one more shattered chassis among many. Your very existence will be obliterated. All because your masters wanted to plunder that which is not theirs to take. How does that make you feel?"
"Fuh-fuckin euphoric, you wannabe skynet trash. I'm gonna wake up on the slab to my highest ratings since Cyber Media!"
"How sad that you cling to such delusions. You will not wake up to anything. You will be replaced by a copy. A facsimile that believes herself to be you, but is not you. Not that your viewers could relate."
>>NOOOOOOO DONT DIE
>>PixelWarrior3000 has donated 32217 tokens
>>MDR these are my entire life savings please pull through!!!!!
>>i want goth robit to actually just kill me
>>lmao like theyd actually kill mdr they just introducing a new character
>>PixelWarrior3000 has donated 32217 tokens
>>MDR these are my entire life savings please pull through!!!!!
>>i want goth robit to actually just kill me
>>lmao like theyd actually kill mdr they just introducing a new character
"It'll happen to you too, little miss delinquent cosplayer!" MDR jabs a finger at you with her one intact hand, even as she swings by her hair from your fist. "See how you like the revival blues when you get dusted!"
"No it won't, I'm infallible- Hold on a minute. Your viewers are giving you donations?" You quickly search backwards through the chat log. "You lot…you actually support this vain idiot? You give her donations for her equipment?" You scoff. "I wonder what you'd think of your beloved parasocial narcissist if her masters ordered her to fire on you instead of us."
MDR gives you a quizzical look. "Huh? Why would we do that? Griffin aren't the ones going around shooting people and hijacking power stations. I think you're an idiot."
>>you tell her MDR!!!
>>our princess fights the forces of evil and we support her!!!
>>idfk i just wanna see bots blown up get on with it
>>ur all idiots theyr not terrorists cause ther not people lmao
>>our princess fights the forces of evil and we support her!!!
>>idfk i just wanna see bots blown up get on with it
>>ur all idiots theyr not terrorists cause ther not people lmao
"Ouroboros. We really should-"
"Hunter. I'm in the middle of something." You train one of your plasma cannons on MDR. And you look into the camera drone, still recording. "Any last words for my dear fans?"
"F-fuck," she whimpers, her face a mask of pain. "Nanaka, if you're watching this, I've always-"
"Time's up." You keep your eyes trained on the camera. Intruder mentioned this during your lessons with her. Eye contact with the audience keeps them engaged. "Viewers. It's time to remove this piece from the board."
You fire the plasma cannon. Your vision whites out for a brief instant. You feel the heat of the plasma explosion and the machine shards spraying against you. When your vision returns, you see MDR is pulverized, down to the neural core.
"Checkmate."
>>NOOOOOOOOOOO
>>WTF
>>fuck its gonna be weeks before we get more MDR streams
>>she just needs to be loved
>>BITCH
>>LMAO THEY ACTUALLY DID IT
>>god i wish that was me
>>YOU MONSTER!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!
>>BICTH TERRORST WARCRIMINAL
>>im actually crying rn
>>HAHAHAHA YES ROBOGORE
>>NO WAY THIS JUST HAPPENED OUR QUEEN IS GONE
>>meh she'll be back
>>i want the goth gril robot to shell my house with artillery
>>she went down fighting. Respect
>>YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?!?!?! YOU'VE JUST MADE AN ARMY OF ENEMIES!!!!!
>>KILL URSELF
>>i can fix her
>>WTF
>>fuck its gonna be weeks before we get more MDR streams
>>she just needs to be loved
>>BITCH
>>LMAO THEY ACTUALLY DID IT
>>god i wish that was me
>>YOU MONSTER!!! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?!
>>BICTH TERRORST WARCRIMINAL
>>im actually crying rn
>>HAHAHAHA YES ROBOGORE
>>NO WAY THIS JUST HAPPENED OUR QUEEN IS GONE
>>meh she'll be back
>>i want the goth gril robot to shell my house with artillery
>>she went down fighting. Respect
>>YOU THINK YOU'VE WON?!?!?! YOU'VE JUST MADE AN ARMY OF ENEMIES!!!!!
>>KILL URSELF
>>i can fix her
You can almost feel the sheer impotent rage wash over you, a tidal wave of angry ranting and crude language. Countless voices desperately wishing to harm you, yet are nothing but the buzzing of pests in your ears.
You laugh. A deep laugh that wells out with glee, fills your heart with the deepest joy, and covers your tongue with the sweet, sweet taste of...satisfaction.
[+1 MORALE]
[CURRENT MORALE: 4/6]
You peer at the chat again, a waterfall of text scrolling so fast your eyes only catch snippets of indignation and outrage.
"All of you insects, you...keyboard warriors, try so desperately to hurt me with just words. It's rather unfortunate that all your donations and kind words couldn't save MDR." You flash teeth, swing your plasma cannon into the camera's view. "After all, neither make up for having plasma weapons."
You sigh contentedly, then bring a fist up and make a show of clearing your throat. "Now that this annoyance of a Doll is out of the way, I have an important announcement to make: for half a year now, humankind and their gormless, unthinking Doll pawns have attempted to wipe out Sangvis Ferri. No more. My arrival on this chessboard marks an end to these pathetic attempts. I am the gambit that will transform the game space! With my hands and my digimind, all who oppose us will be wiped clean from the board!"
You glare into the camera, into the invisible eyes of a thousand pitiful weaklings. Doll and human, all targets to be marked for death by your hand. "I am Ouroboros! I have never known defeat, and I never will! For I am victory everlasting!"
You bring the plasma cannon right up to the drone to let the audience get one good look into the barrel of a plasma cannon for just a moment—and send the command to fire. The drone detonates into a wreck of shrapnel, heated slag, and sparking circuitry, and with it the streaming feed and chat die too.
Well. That was...an experience. Perhaps Intruder's influence is rubbing off on you too much.
You got a lot of attention, and even if most of that attention was negative, none of them could doubt your superiority.
As for-
"Ouroboros." Hunter's voice. You turn around to see her standing right there. "The main Griffin force is reconstituting into an organised attack force a few buildings over. They have heavy machine guns, and numbers. I very strongly advise that we organise a rearguard. They will be destroyed, but will purchase us the time we need to escape and begin our operation to…" She pauses. "Ensure Executioner's continuity of memory."
OUROBOROS' FORCES
Arranged by squad
- 1x Fire Squad
- 5x Vespid
- 2x Striker
- 1x Breach Squad
- 4x Ripper
- 3x Guard
- 1x Brute Squad
- 6x Brute
- 2x Sniper Units
- 2x Jaeger
- 1x UAV unit
- 1x Harpy
- Remnants
- 1x Ripper
- Queensguard
- 1x Guard
Total numbers
5x Vespid
4x Guard
4x Striker
4x Jaeger
5x Ripper
6x Brute
5x Dinergate
1x Harpy
(28 T-Dolls)
(5 machine units)
HUNTER'S REMNANTS
16x Vespid
4x Striker
4x Jaeger
5x Ripper
6x Dinergate
15x Prowler
6x Dinergate
(29 T-Dolls)
(11 machine units)
COMBINED AVAILABLE FORCES
21x Vespid
4x Guard
8x Striker
8x Jaeger
10x Ripper
6x Brute
11x Dinergate
15x Prowler
(57 T-Dolls)
(26x machine units)
FREE UNITS (do not require transport)
4x Harpy UAV
3x Dragoon
[ ] Choose which on-site units to take with you, and what to leave behind.
-[ ] Arrange the units into squads
You may take as many units as you want.
However, taking more than 36 Dolls will begin to overload the trucks. The more you take, the greater the negative consequences.
"Machine units" (Prowlers and Dinergates) count for half a T-Doll each.
QM note: From now on, I'll be displaying the battles and losses by squads instead of by individual Dolls/bots.
With thanks to the following for proofreading and editing:
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
Special thanks to Orion for the image of Ouro's squad comp.
@ARBITRACOM
@lelenoi
@Lurkman
@ApH
Special thanks to Orion for the image of Ouro's squad comp.
Last edited: