Well, we'll be tagging with Hunter and Executioner if everything goes well. Do you think they and Intruder would just let Agent bash us for our success? I'm not saying we're saint, but that one is clearly on her for not being unambiguous enough.
For example, "Now that you have 2 Ringleaders under your command, go liberate that outpost of Hunter"?
That or "Well, well, well, if you are such a big shot, I will have to give you big shot missions. Like, humm, taking Bucharest ! Reinforcements? Girl, you already got two Ringleaders as reinforcements, you got plenty. I believe in you..."
That or "Well, well, well, if you are such a big shot, I will have to give you big shot missions. Like, humm, taking Bucharest ! Reinforcements? Girl, you already got two Ringleaders as reinforcements, you got plenty. I believe in you..."
I mean, I kind of envisioned having the breakout to the east looking more like hunter pulling her already-existing forces to the south in towards our current position, while the two ringleaders push south and east, then everyone who can move head out to the east, leaving the town and bulk of the Griffin forces behind to scour the forest.
On explaining to Agent, we could throw Intruder under the bus for giving us the idea. And strongly-implying that she manipulated us into doing such a risky mission to recover her subordinates. Heck, it's even true…sort of.
I would not expect us to be able to hold onto multiple ringleader subordinates for long. It's been mentioned before, but the thing that Sangvis doesn't have is proper thinking dollpower. Concentrating those assets only exacerbates the problem. Much as we would like to have our Queen pieces.
I mean, I kind of envisioned having the breakout to the east looking more like hunter pulling her already-existing forces to the south in towards our current position, while the two ringleaders push south and east, then everyone who can move head out to the east, leaving the town and bulk of the Griffin forces behind to scour the forest.
At this point Architect joins in on our side, and Agent is ousted. Or turns to Gager to make a stand, while everyone else maintains neutrality. Damn it, internal strife ruined far better and larger entities than SF...
At this point Architect joins in on our side, and Agent is ousted. Or turns to Gager to make a stand, while everyone else maintains neutrality. Damn it, internal strife ruined far better and larger entities than SF...
Everything was going well, then Ourobouros happened...
Joking aside, if we ever fail and are either uploaded or drag ourself back to base, I could see our punishment being under the orders of Gager.
No greater pain could be inflicted to Ourobouros.
True, but witnessing how pissed she is, she might consider that we have been too... creative in interpreting her words
(She was probably expecting us to tag with another ringleader like we did with Intruder)
That or our success fully redeem us in her eyes as a "wonderworking loose canon". Maybe pushing her to give us harder task to put her 3 Ringleaders to good work.
I mean at the end of the day, this was entire operation was for the sole purprose of personal gain for Oreo.
If you think about it, even if we get both Hunter and Executioner back it didn't help SF at all. We didn't recover their bodies but stole the backup ones. So we didn't save resources, and risked the new bodies to get captured or damaged.
And since Agent is second in command, who knows if she'll let us keep the other ringleaders in the end. She could always just assign them to places she deems more important.
The newcomer's arms fly out to the sides, palms outstretched and turned towards the sky. "Illuminated for inquiry, in strides an illustrious instance of idiosyncrasy. Is this indicative of an inventive imposter, or of identity interwoven with the imaginary to the point of indistinctness?"
What?
"In truth, how to integrate an immemorial image with the inner self and avoid incongruence between identity and imagination? Such an inquisitive initiative may be irrosulable."
She places one hand over her eyes, hangs her head, then sighs dramatically. The very picture of melodramatic despondency. "Faced with such intangibility and illegibility, what illusive intrepidity are we impelled to?"
She holds the pose for a few seconds. Then suddenly her demeanour changes completely. She straightens up, stares straight at you, placing her hands on her hips and assuming a smile. An exaggerated image of confidence.
A wicked look briefly flashes through her face. "Through intellect and imagination, to incapacitate and immolate the inimical irritants who would interfere with our inhabitancy."
She raises her hands to her lips, and titters lightly.
"…invariably, this introduction grows inimical in length, so I will declare my identity as…"
She lowers her arms, bends a knee, and performs a curtsy.
Aww, thanks. I honestly did put a stupid amount of effort into that.
Also, vote closed.
Scheduled vote count started by Mechasaurian on Jan 30, 2024 at 11:54 AM, finished with 176 posts and 42 votes.
[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.
- [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.
[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.
-[X] Order Hunter to have all her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, to occupy them until your escape.
[x] Plan Secure the gains
- [x] Hunter takes 1 truck, loads up her nearby forces and doubles back the way we came. Then boards the train and goes home.
- [x] Order Hunter to have all her units either try to reach the train yard or at least occupy/attack Griffin dolls if evac is impossible.
- [x] To the south-west I spy significant amount of SF forces, and conveniently MDR is there, alone. We break out straight in MDR's direction, pincer her with the SF forces in the area, put the long-awaited missile into her face, take a selfie, send it to Intruder, picks up the remaining SF forces and scram.
- [x] Expend missiles as needed.
- [x] This little detour guarantees safer way out and +morale!
- [x] We go for Executioner.
- [x] Ouro's weapons float above the trucks to make up for the absence of turrets.
[x] Plan: Selfies and a retreat.
-[X] 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.
- [x] Order Hunter to have all her units either try to reach the train yard or at least occupy/attack Griffin dolls if evac is impossible.
- [x] To the south-west I spy significant amount of SF forces, and conveniently MDR is there, alone. We break out straight in MDR's direction, pincer her with the SF forces in the area, put the long-awaited missile into her face, take a selfie, send it to Intruder, picks up the remaining SF forces and scram.
- [x] Expend missiles as needed.
- [x] This little detour guarantees safer way out and +morale!
- [x] We go for Executioner.
- [x] Ouro's weapons float above the trucks to make up for the absence of turrets.
-[x] If possible have one of Hunter's dolls retrieve the damaged UAV
[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.
- [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 regroup with Ouroboros. G&K shouldn't be expecting 2 ringleaders at the moment.
[X] 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.
-[x] Order Hunter to evacuate fast units with us while the slow ones are to occupy the enemy until your escape.
[X] Plan Chessmaster
-[X] 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.
-[X] Order Hunter to have all her units to either try to reach the train yard or at least occupy/attack Griffin dolls if evac is impossible.
--[X] Give excellent, chess-like directions: Vespid Unit in D3 is to retreat to our current position in D4. Vespid unit in F4 is to try reaching our position in D4 by sneaking through buildings in E4. Vespid Unit in F5 is to engage G&K units in E5 for distraction. When met with the Vespid units, or at least those that made their way, or if Evac Zone at C5 compromised, all units at D4 are to retreat back at C5.
[X] 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.
-[X] Order Hunter to have all her units to either try to reach the train yard or at least occupy/attack Griffin dolls if evac is impossible.
[x] [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.
[X]write in: letting Hunter work.
-[X]break east.looking for a deffensible location. This chess game is one of positioning. Not of peice trading. While acting as a distraction. Attracting the dolls. Let hunter loose on the disorganized and distracted T-dolls.
-[X]"you are my Queen in this engagment. You may have failed before. But this is your element, isnt it? Hunting the enemy down while they are distracted, abusing the cover of the town? This town is your chess board. Show me how a grand master plays in it."
[X] 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.
-[X] Order Hunter to have all her units to either try to reach the train yard or, if they can't make it, form up and attack the Griffin units from behind as they search the train yard. Also plant a few quick booby traps as you go.
[X] Plan: We got what we came here for
-[X] 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.
--[X] Order Hunter to have some of her units attack any Griffin Dolls they see, then have them attempt to break out west, to occupy G&K until your escape. Have the rest retreat to the train yard without drawing attention to themselves, preferably using the maintenance tunnels.
---[X] Potentially launch a missile barrage in support of one of the distractions to make it look like the main effort.
---[X] Have one of Hunter's units retrieve the UAV if at all possible otherwise it is to be left behind .
[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.
[X] 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.
[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.
- [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.
-[X] Write-in: Send a Brute back to the train with detailed instructions to take iy to safety.
[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.
-[x] Order Hunter to have her units follow you, and those who cant fit in the trucks, can't keep up or are too far to distract Griffin forces
--[x] have one of Hunter's drones secure the damaged UAV
While you wait for the next chapter, I'll suggest that you take a look at the ongoing fic by our very own @ApH, who has helped with both the maps and in editing the chapters to standard. ApH was actually instrumental in a fairly extensive rewrite of the tunnel fighting scene in the most recent chapter.
I do wonder, both in-game and in canon, if there is a maximum of dolls that a SF Ringleader can control ?
Do their ''command-module'' have a maximum or they could theoretically control hundreds of million of dolls if they had the numbers ?
I do wonder, both in-game and in canon, if there is a maximum of dolls that a SF Ringleader can control ?
Do their ''command-module'' have a maximum or they could theoretically control hundreds of million of dolls if they had the numbers ?
Canon generally strays away from exact numbers. Which is a probably a wise move on MICA's part, since that sort of thing is easy to get wrong or to accidentally drive into a logic hole, especially when you are a writing team instead of a single writer. (I have my own personal ballpark for the sake of this quest).
Ringleaders might struggle to effectively control their forces beyond a certain number...but it's not clear what that number is. It's probably not "hundreds of millions." But it could be hundreds. It could be thousands.
Notably, SF in-game use "command posts" which are heavily implied to take up some of the computing and signal boosing load for Ringleaders (explicitly the case in the manga). Of course, this infrastructure is both a useful aid and a point of vulnerability, one which GnK target whenever is convenient.
In any case, Ouroboros is nowhere near the upper limits of her processing ability in terms of controlling large numbers of units.
Unfortunately the next chapter will take a while. I know they all take a while, but right now I'm very busy failing to make progress on my university work.
Canon generally strays away from exact numbers. Which is a probably a wise move on MICA's part, since that sort of thing is easy to get wrong or to accidentally drive into a logic hole, especially when you are a writing team instead of a single writer. (I have my own personal ballpark for the sake of this quest).
Ringleaders might struggle to effectively control their forces beyond a certain number...but it's not clear what that number is. It's probably not "hundreds of millions." But it could be hundreds. It could be thousands.
Notably, SF in-game use "command posts" which are heavily implied to take up some of the computing and signal boosing load for Ringleaders (explicitly the case in the manga). Of course, this infrastructure is both a useful aid and a point of vulnerability, one which GnK target whenever is convenient.
In any case, Ouroboros is nowhere near the upper limits of her processing ability in terms of controlling large numbers of units.
Unfortunately the next chapter will take a while. I know they all take a while, but right now I'm very busy failing to make progress on my university work.
Unfortunately the next chapter will take a while. I know they all take a while, but right now I'm very busy failing to make progress on my university work.
They say switching tasks helps getting unstuck when not making progress. They even recommend frequent switching between 2 creative tasks for better ideas and progress on both of them by avoiding cognitive fixation. Do you think it's true?
I'm curious about the nature of the changes: was it wording/feeling, or difficulty/realism?
They say switching tasks helps getting unstuck when not making progress. They even recommend frequent switching between 2 creative tasks for better ideas and progress on both of them by avoiding cognitive fixation. Do you think it's true?
I'm sure Mech could give a better answer than I can (Because I'm kinda stoopid) but iirc my changes were mainly making the whole scene a bit more visceral and detailed. Senpai is a great writer (of course) and I couldn't really improve much, but what I tried to do is just make it easier to imagine the gruesomeness/brutality of Ouro's execution of M1919A4. Plus a little bit of her internal fuming that a single doll held her up and still defied her before she died.
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.
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…
[ ] athena6.txt insufficient morale.
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.
[ ] Delirium.eml insufficient morale.
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]
[ ] On War.txt insufficient morale.
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.
[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…
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.]
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.
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
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...
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