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Metroid V Quest
- Thread starter Leila Hann
- Start date
- Sci-Fi
Scans and Door Attempts
- Location
- Patriarchova
Upper hologram said:
Lower right hologram said:
Lower left hologram said:
You approach the blast-shielded door, with the "template storage" legend. It does not appear to respond; you'll need a missile to remove the shield the hard way.
The Gadora-guarded door, labeled "the patrician," opens on its own accord as soon as you reach the lower part of the room, however. Beyond it, you see thick red vapor, and a forest of articulated tubes or pipes thicker than you are.
GO:
[] Write in.
SCAN:
[] You may select one or more objects to subject to more intensive scan visor probing before leaving this room.
...
ENERGY: 155/200
MISSILES: 8/15
Last edited:
- Location
- ⇙
[X] Go through gadora guarded door.
[X] Scan Vapor
[X] Scan Vapor
The Patrician
- Location
- Patriarchova
Deciding not to bother with the blast door just yet, you turn around and scan the ominous crimson vapors that rise behind the other.
The vapor condenses against your visor as you enter, throwing the world into a shimmering, red, liquid relief. Your helmet systems immediately wipe it clean, but its a constant battle. The walls are made of layer upon layer of overlapping annulated pipes, a solid wall of metal arteries and veins. Below you, bonelike scaffolds extend from the veiny walls, dangling more metal tubules below themselves. Cautiously, you descend into the bloody mist. One leap downward after the next.
The shaft leads into the top of a long, tube-shaped corridor, likewise made of glistening capillaries. Below the platform on which you stand, a bubbling sea of yellow-orange superconductive gel fills the lower third of the vast pipe, sending up billowing clouds of the red smoke. Every dozen meters, a pillar of sweating, shivering metal rises from the gel, and supports a many-layered red and purple force field column that rises to another projector hidden in the smoke below the ceiling.
Beneath your armor, the hairs on your neck stand on end. You've seen a room like this before.
Before you can bring your missile launcher to bear, however, there is a mechanical sound in the ceiling. The swollen elipses that you know contain power beam turrets retract upward, disappearing into the vein-encrusted ceiling. The forcefield columns blink out of existence, one after another, and the pillars extend bridges to guide you across the boiling sea.
...
ENERGY: 155/200
MISSILES: 8/15
Red Smoke said:
The vapor condenses against your visor as you enter, throwing the world into a shimmering, red, liquid relief. Your helmet systems immediately wipe it clean, but its a constant battle. The walls are made of layer upon layer of overlapping annulated pipes, a solid wall of metal arteries and veins. Below you, bonelike scaffolds extend from the veiny walls, dangling more metal tubules below themselves. Cautiously, you descend into the bloody mist. One leap downward after the next.
The shaft leads into the top of a long, tube-shaped corridor, likewise made of glistening capillaries. Below the platform on which you stand, a bubbling sea of yellow-orange superconductive gel fills the lower third of the vast pipe, sending up billowing clouds of the red smoke. Every dozen meters, a pillar of sweating, shivering metal rises from the gel, and supports a many-layered red and purple force field column that rises to another projector hidden in the smoke below the ceiling.
Beneath your armor, the hairs on your neck stand on end. You've seen a room like this before.
Before you can bring your missile launcher to bear, however, there is a mechanical sound in the ceiling. The swollen elipses that you know contain power beam turrets retract upward, disappearing into the vein-encrusted ceiling. The forcefield columns blink out of existence, one after another, and the pillars extend bridges to guide you across the boiling sea.
You cross one bridge. Then another. Then another. The red smoke receding a few meters in front of you, and flowing back into place once you've passed. The final pillar winks out in front of you, and you step out onto the final platform. The last cloud of red aeroplanktonic fog clears, and you behold the tank of metal and force field and maldium glass, and the organism - easily twice your mass - that floats within.
"Welcome. A physio-divergent example, it would seem. So small and straight and spindly. Short necked and beakless. But we have beheld greater divergences still, and recognize them all. As is written in our genetic code, and rewritten in our software programming. Your exoskeleton and telepathic receptivity marks you for what you are, Lord or Lady."
The vast brain bobs against its supporting fluids, the hundred-odd capillaries that feed in and out of its assymetrical flesh pulling it endlessly back into place. Its voice in your mind, even filtered through your suit's telepathic safeguards, is like a thick, sucking sea, pulling you downward into a weightless womb of white noise.
"I'm Samus Aran," you start to open your mouth, but stop yourself after the first syllable, thinking the rest of it and flexing that tiny extra organ tucked inside your brain that no other human has ever had, to the best of your knowledge. "I sensed a distress signal."
"Of course. It would have been beyond coincidence for the silence of nine hundred starturns to be broken now for any other reason. We began to fear that perhaps we had been rendered obsolete...but that is of lesser importance now. We must admit our relief, as we are in no condition to render our services. Our influence has been restricted to this room, and 'we' reduced to an isolated 'I.' With great punctuality did you arrive; another starturn, and we, the Patrician of Tamatros, would surely be no more."
The sight of the Patrician is still disquieting. Its only half the size of Mother, if that, and its voice and mannerisms are nothing alike. But some of the most traumatic memories of your life are still coming back, forcing you to exercise your meditative training to bite them down.
TALK:
[] What should you ask the Patrician?
The vast brain bobs against its supporting fluids, the hundred-odd capillaries that feed in and out of its assymetrical flesh pulling it endlessly back into place. Its voice in your mind, even filtered through your suit's telepathic safeguards, is like a thick, sucking sea, pulling you downward into a weightless womb of white noise.
"I'm Samus Aran," you start to open your mouth, but stop yourself after the first syllable, thinking the rest of it and flexing that tiny extra organ tucked inside your brain that no other human has ever had, to the best of your knowledge. "I sensed a distress signal."
"Of course. It would have been beyond coincidence for the silence of nine hundred starturns to be broken now for any other reason. We began to fear that perhaps we had been rendered obsolete...but that is of lesser importance now. We must admit our relief, as we are in no condition to render our services. Our influence has been restricted to this room, and 'we' reduced to an isolated 'I.' With great punctuality did you arrive; another starturn, and we, the Patrician of Tamatros, would surely be no more."
The sight of the Patrician is still disquieting. Its only half the size of Mother, if that, and its voice and mannerisms are nothing alike. But some of the most traumatic memories of your life are still coming back, forcing you to exercise your meditative training to bite them down.
TALK:
[] What should you ask the Patrician?
...
ENERGY: 155/200
MISSILES: 8/15
....well.
I did not expect not!Mother Brain
Suggested questions: What is your purpose, what was this planet originally used for, why is it now in such a state of disrepair, would you like my help fixing you and if so how?
I did not expect not!Mother Brain
Suggested questions: What is your purpose, what was this planet originally used for, why is it now in such a state of disrepair, would you like my help fixing you and if so how?
- Location
- ⇙
Asking if it knows what happned here wuld be good. Maybe it also has map data of the place? It's probably out of date if it was confined to this room, but it could still help.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
- Location
- Patriarchova
They are.
- Location
- ⇙
There seems to be a window or tiny, blocked path on the upper level of the room. Probably should scan that once we're done talking to the Patriarch.
[x] Ask what happened.
[x] Ask what this facility is for.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
[x] Ask what happened.
[x] Ask what this facility is for.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
Lords and Ladies
- Location
- Patriarchova
[x] Ask what happened.
[x] Ask what this facility is for.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
...
"You sent the distress call, then. What happened here?"
The great brain floats in place, showing no outward sign of reactivity, but its voice filling your helmet. "What has been happening here for nine point eight starturns still defies our understanding...perhaps not a surprise, with so much knowledge lost to us and the thinking power of our satellite-selves cut off. Initially, we thought it a mere series of malfunctions. Then it seemed more likely a mutation in our thought centers. Too late did we determine that we were infected by hostile data."
"Hostile data," you repeat, "like a virus?"
"That is perhaps not the most accurate biological metaphor, but sufficiently close. We turned ourselves against the infection, purging and rewriting each nerve cluster as it fell to the corruption, but the infection proved highly reactive...seeming at times to even anticipate our strategy, using our own processing power against us. When our final brute force purge seemed successful, the infection did something we could never have anticipated; it used what remained of its influence to assume control of our creations, and guided them in a physical assault on our skulls. This forced us to divide our attentions, and allow the infection to gain ground."
A brief pause. Its hard to tell with this cool, emotionless voice, but you think you pick out a hint of pain or trauma.
"We were forced to abandon our satellite selves and close Tamatros' telepathic network to protect our nucleus here in the laboratory complex. I am all that is left of us. Our lesser selves - originally tasked with governing the habitat, the arcology, and the womb - are overrun; hosts to the infofestation. Nearly all of our spawn have likewise been corrupted, or else left to run amok without any guidance whatsoever."
"Hold on," you say, running through what the Patrician told you again, "you said you have devised an antidote for this infection. A 'brute force' solution?"
"Indeed, we have. However, with the network down for our own safety, the antidote will require manual distribution to our satellite-selves. We attempted this until our supply of loyal offspring was depleted."
You nod your head softly, processing this. Administering antivirus software to compromised brain units is something you've had a bit of experience with, courtesy of Phaaze. Your suit's computer should still be up to the task. Of course, you knew much more about the Aurora Units and their intended purpose before you went about restoring them.
"You've mentioned offspring, and children. What exactly is this facility? What was your original purpose?"
The psychic voice sounds remorseful now. "It is, then, as we feared. Our Lords and Ladies have forgotten us. Still, we remain loyal to those who gave us life."
"We are the Patrician and Caretaker of the Tamatros Biofacturing Facility. This world and its resources were set aside for use in the bio-technological construction, experimental ecological engineering, and xenoformation procedures of any Chozo. For millennia, our Lords and Ladies came here with raw data, information about planetary environments they hoped to colonize, organisms they hoped to subordinate, technologies they hoped to develop or untapped resources they sought a use for. We worked mind and mind with all of their scientists and engineers. Entire ecosystems have been engineered in this facility. Sets of personal augmentations that gave rise to distinct Chozo subspecies. Interstellar wars have been fought and won with the weapons we devised here on Tamatros. The bio-mechanoid servitors we create - our offspring - many originally requisitioned by one Chozo group or another, still act as our eyes and arms around the facility, or did until the corruption claimed them."
Your suit must have blocked the gadora's scans, at least partially. The Patrician doesn't seem to realize that you're an alien.
TALK:
[] Tell the truth: you're not biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
[] Mix truth and lies: claim to be the last living chozo, and that the Galactic Federation has been hosting you.
[] Lie: claim to represent an extant chozo civilization.
[] Other (write in)
....
Author's Note: Samus will ask for map data at the end of the conversation, assuming things remain amicable.
[x] Ask what this facility is for.
[x] Ask if it possesses map data of the facility.
...
"You sent the distress call, then. What happened here?"
The great brain floats in place, showing no outward sign of reactivity, but its voice filling your helmet. "What has been happening here for nine point eight starturns still defies our understanding...perhaps not a surprise, with so much knowledge lost to us and the thinking power of our satellite-selves cut off. Initially, we thought it a mere series of malfunctions. Then it seemed more likely a mutation in our thought centers. Too late did we determine that we were infected by hostile data."
"Hostile data," you repeat, "like a virus?"
"That is perhaps not the most accurate biological metaphor, but sufficiently close. We turned ourselves against the infection, purging and rewriting each nerve cluster as it fell to the corruption, but the infection proved highly reactive...seeming at times to even anticipate our strategy, using our own processing power against us. When our final brute force purge seemed successful, the infection did something we could never have anticipated; it used what remained of its influence to assume control of our creations, and guided them in a physical assault on our skulls. This forced us to divide our attentions, and allow the infection to gain ground."
A brief pause. Its hard to tell with this cool, emotionless voice, but you think you pick out a hint of pain or trauma.
"We were forced to abandon our satellite selves and close Tamatros' telepathic network to protect our nucleus here in the laboratory complex. I am all that is left of us. Our lesser selves - originally tasked with governing the habitat, the arcology, and the womb - are overrun; hosts to the infofestation. Nearly all of our spawn have likewise been corrupted, or else left to run amok without any guidance whatsoever."
"Hold on," you say, running through what the Patrician told you again, "you said you have devised an antidote for this infection. A 'brute force' solution?"
"Indeed, we have. However, with the network down for our own safety, the antidote will require manual distribution to our satellite-selves. We attempted this until our supply of loyal offspring was depleted."
You nod your head softly, processing this. Administering antivirus software to compromised brain units is something you've had a bit of experience with, courtesy of Phaaze. Your suit's computer should still be up to the task. Of course, you knew much more about the Aurora Units and their intended purpose before you went about restoring them.
"You've mentioned offspring, and children. What exactly is this facility? What was your original purpose?"
The psychic voice sounds remorseful now. "It is, then, as we feared. Our Lords and Ladies have forgotten us. Still, we remain loyal to those who gave us life."
"We are the Patrician and Caretaker of the Tamatros Biofacturing Facility. This world and its resources were set aside for use in the bio-technological construction, experimental ecological engineering, and xenoformation procedures of any Chozo. For millennia, our Lords and Ladies came here with raw data, information about planetary environments they hoped to colonize, organisms they hoped to subordinate, technologies they hoped to develop or untapped resources they sought a use for. We worked mind and mind with all of their scientists and engineers. Entire ecosystems have been engineered in this facility. Sets of personal augmentations that gave rise to distinct Chozo subspecies. Interstellar wars have been fought and won with the weapons we devised here on Tamatros. The bio-mechanoid servitors we create - our offspring - many originally requisitioned by one Chozo group or another, still act as our eyes and arms around the facility, or did until the corruption claimed them."
"You knew none of this, then, before you heard or cry for help? From whence came you, Lady Samus Aran? What is the state of your civilization? Are your people in contact with other Chozo derivatives?"Your suit must have blocked the gadora's scans, at least partially. The Patrician doesn't seem to realize that you're an alien.
TALK:
[] Tell the truth: you're not biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
[] Mix truth and lies: claim to be the last living chozo, and that the Galactic Federation has been hosting you.
[] Lie: claim to represent an extant chozo civilization.
[] Other (write in)
....
Author's Note: Samus will ask for map data at the end of the conversation, assuming things remain amicable.
Last edited:
cB557
voOOP
[X] Tell the truth: you're not biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
Maybe go with something more like "I was adopted by Chozo" rather than "I'm not biologically Chozo" so there's not a moment of ambiguity as to whether we were part of Chozo society, though.
If massively divergent is fine because we've got the suit and the telepathy, I figure being adopted would be fine for the same reason.
Maybe go with something more like "I was adopted by Chozo" rather than "I'm not biologically Chozo" so there's not a moment of ambiguity as to whether we were part of Chozo society, though.
cB557
voOOP
I mean, you're probably right
[X] Tell the truth: you're not biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
According to the wiki, her species is
According to the wiki, her species is
So I'd say we are partially biologically Chozo, and for that reason he won't flip out over the truth.
- Location
- Huezil
[x] Tell the truth: you're not biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
- Focus on mother brain rebellion, them the space pirates anihilation of zebes and the losing control over metroid project
- Ask the patrician if he was involved in metroid project and if he knows about X-Parasite menace.
- Focus on mother brain rebellion, them the space pirates anihilation of zebes and the losing control over metroid project
- Ask the patrician if he was involved in metroid project and if he knows about X-Parasite menace.
- Location
- ⇙
[X] Tell the truth: you're partially biologically chozo, and the species is presumed extinct.
I don't see Samus lying here and she has some Chozo DNA so it should count. Hopefully. It would suck to get attacked by the friendly brain that called us here, just because we're not Chozo enough.
I don't see Samus lying here and she has some Chozo DNA so it should count. Hopefully. It would suck to get attacked by the friendly brain that called us here, just because we're not Chozo enough.
[X] Tell the truth: you're adopted, and the species is presumed extinct.