@Nord Ronnoc: Hello, I'm Nord Ronnoc! We read stuff so you don't have to! TheLordofAwesome: Wow. Ripping off a popular internet celebrity to make a catch phrase. That's the sort of quality that'll get you places! NR: If you wanna rip off stuff, get the good ones and do it well! TLoA: Promise nothing, deliver less I say.
Okay, some background…
So, what we're about to riff on is a Mass Effect self-insert called Mass Vexations, written by Herr Wozzeck. Obviously, this is the first in a trilogy of his work. Some have praised it for its writing and its take on the self-insert genre. Even the author had called himself the grandfather of Mass Effect self-inserts. True, prior to MV, there were fewer of Mass Effect self-inserts. And he has popularized it, with hundreds if not thousands of fics inspired by his. Some of the (somewhat) good ones include Masses to Masses and Team Milky Way.
As more chapters as well as the second and third entries were released, the series has piled on with more nonsensical crap that made some people scratch their heads. Some of which are controversial in the third entry that Herr Wozzeck had to rewrite parts of the third entry. These we'll discuss one day.
We looked back at this fic with fondness, like most of his readers (except for Nord) but as time goes on, some look back and realize that quite a bit of it is shit.
NR: I'm at the fic on Fanfiction.net. Paper and pencil by the keyboard... TLoA: Awesome possum. So how do we do this?
NR: Paste a segment here and we comment. Sometimes we would summarize and stuff. TLoA: The floor is yours, my good man.
A/N: ... Fuck the plot bunnies. I'm gonna do this anyway.
NR: Dem bunnies are everywhere! Multiplying like crazy! TLoA: I get where he is coming from. Damn bunnies coming into this country, taking our plots away.
Yeah, so, I got this idea to do a Mass Effect self-insert through a multitude of things, with a few characters from Heavy Rain peppered in every now and then. Don't ask me why, for I don't know either. No matter what, though, things are going to go absolutely crazy with this. Especially how I get there. I'm... lost for words on this. So I'll just get to the meat and potatoes of what's going down:
NR: 1. uh... I forgot. Here's a fanfic! TLoA: 2. Despite all my rage I'm still just David Cage NR: 3. And game overs are the failure of game design.
Mass Effect, it's characters, and it's setting do not belong to me. They are trademarks of EA Games and Bioware. Neither do I own any pieces mentioned. I do own myself, though; if I didn't, I'd be very afraid for society...
NR: If a company owns a person, then that's late-late-capitalism. Your phones, your posts, everything. TLoA: Well considering the events we are about to read I for one speak for all of us when I say: Thank God EA owns Mass Effect. NR: ORIGINAL CHARACTER DO NOT STEAL
Right. Now with those disclaimers out of the way, let's go!
Vexations. Piece for solo piano. Music of Erik Satie. Three lines of music. Tritones in every chord. Trés lent for a tempo marking. Thirty-four chords. One bass line to be played twice after that. Eight hundred and forty repetitions of all of the material. Maximum running time of approximately eighteen to nineteen hours. In its entire perfomance history, it has never been played by a single player. Those that tried had to stop due to hallucinations.
NR: Of the ten men sent, four returned. Of those four, three wrote books about what happened. Of those three, two were published. And of those two, only one got a movie deal. This is the story of the men who attempted to make that movie. No. Wait. This is a fic. TLoA: It's as if a William Shatner performance was turned into text. NR: KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!
I still can't believe I convinced myself I could do this. Those hallucinations of elves dancing on top of the piano are going to be pretty problematic, as I can well imagine.
But then again, I'm probably never going to use crack or marijuana in my life. So I might as well attempt a legal outlet. Or something.
NR: Winners don't do drugs. TLoA: Except steroids. NR: And other things John Oliver has said in that one video. TLoA: In which case USE LOTS OF DRUGS.
You know what annoys me about the whole thing, though... I'm not actually a pianist. I was a violinist for a long, long time, but I ditched it when I graduated from high school. I'm now a violist and a composer. Have been ever since junior year.
NR: I think there's the world's smallest violin nearby. Nord Ronnoc goes out and grab it, only to realize it's for those occasions. TLoA: Ant violinists are on hard times man, don't joke. NR: They get what they deserve.
And instead of... well, sketching that octet piece that I want to have completely sketched out by the time the semester ends, I'm going off on a gander and... sitting in a practice room on the top floor of the conservatory on a Friday afternoon after Ear Training dictations with that single sheet of paper in front of me with those thirty-four chords. I'm gonna be in here for at least six hours. At any rate, I'm not leaving until I see some kind of hallucination.
NR: Oh boy, if he gets indoctrinated, he's screwwwwwwwwwwwwwwed! TLoA: "His name is Dr. Rockso the Rock and Roll Clown. He does Vexations. That's all we know."
I could be doing a lot of things right now. Sketching the aforementioned octet. Playing a bit of Heavy Rain. Going to the movies to review the Clash of the Titans remake. Surfing the net. Writing fanfiction. Getting some progress done on that viola concerto I promised for my teacher.
NR: …AND THEN EVIL CAME!
TLoA: I for one welcome our Satie Overlord. NR: All hail the Satie Overlord!
Well, if there's one thing I won't regret about this, it's that at least good ol' Jimmy D. will have a fun story to tell about the time one of his students sat in a practice room for six hours playing Vexations, especially one that wasn't a pianist. Well, technically, it's not for piano, but playing triple stops softly on a viola is just not possible unless I play pizzicato the entire time. And that's not happening, as then I have to tune everything there. And that means I won't have shit prepared. Not like these practice room pianos are much better, but I can live with the knowledge that it's the school's fault and not my own for neglecting to get these pianos tuned.
NR: Oh, get on with it! TLoA: Does he have to? NR: Each chapter is about 10k words or more, so what're the odds? TLoA: FUCK. NR: I'm not kidding. In MV1 it's about 8,531 on average. But later on, in the other fics, it goes up and up and up and ohmygod TLoA: Man, Event Horizon was right: Hell is just a word.
I bring my hands to the keyboard. I'm feeling a rush of uncertainty. Maybe I should turn back now?
It's been a few hours. I can already see why these guys would be hallucinating. I haven't gotten to that stage yet, but I'm pretty sure I'm about to enter that phase myself.
NR: So I press this key here, this key here, this key—fuck, I screwed up. TLoA: Great, now I'm not high on magic music! My night is ruined! NR: Bummer. I get so invested in this stuff. It's like magic, man. All the colors and wondrous things you've ever seen, oh my!
It's just... Vexations apparently has this wierdly hypnotic effect on its players.
NR: So how does that work, exactly? How does a song make you hallucinate? TLoA: What about the reality where Hitler cured cancer? The answer is: Don't think about it. NR: Right, gotta keep that in mind. Especially with the stupid stuff. And I have a chainsaw ax to grind. Nord Ronnoc revs it up. NR: I know it's impractical and all, but... chainsaw ax! How cool is that? TLoA: Let's get back to the matter at hand, shall we? Else we'll find ourselves talking about David Cage games...
I've lost all track of time, and now the seconds hand of my mind ticks according to the half notes in this piece. I no longer consciously guide my fingers to each key in the chord progression, which is insane seeing as I always have to do that if I ever play written music on a piano. I've stopped subdividing a long time ago, the rhythm now on the tips of my fingers as I press down on the keys.
NR: Open your eye, Self-Insert. Wait, that's before the trippy stuff. Nord Ronnoc holds it off. For now. TLoA: The whole story is going to be this, isn't it? Christ, this is going to be a slog. NR: Barring some seizures and headaches, it'll be worth it.
The only indication that I get that I've been there a long time is that the sky has darkened a bit, and with it my practice room. Shit, I should've turned on the lights before coming in.
NR: Maybe this will be over and our hero can finally go home without incident. TLoA: "I'm so high right now... I don't know what's going on..."
Oh, well. I'm on repetition... which? I don't know which repetition I'm on either. I've gotta give a hand to John Cage and all those other guys he got together to do the first performance in which all 840 repetitions were done. They had concentration.
TLoA: Johnny Cage?! NR: "And out of nowhere, Johnny Cage in his shirtlessness appeared out of nowhere, ran up to me, and punched me in the balls. Three times. It fuckin' hurt, man!" TLoA: This story could be majorly improved if Johnny Cage were to show up.
Something that I've long since lost as my mind wanders around. I haven't seen any elves atop the piano yet, but I'm beginning to feel a haze over my mind as I go about doing each repetition of the chord progression. The darkness doesn't help at all.
NR: I'm pretty sure he'll starve to death at this point. Or pass out from lack of sleep. TLoA: Then maybe this whole story will turn out to be a dream!
The hallucinations begin to kick in. Now I'm seeing... turians? Dancing atop the piano?
Fuck me. I knew I'd be hallucinating something, but turians? Holy shit!
TLoA: The thing I expected to happen HAPPENED! NR: I want to see turians. Anything could be better than a tall man in a suit with tentacles and no face. If only I could find all eight pages...
Hey, wait, now they're molding into origami figures. What the hell?
Slowly, a whole series of other hallucinations are beginning to pile up. I can barely describe them all at once.
TLoA: I'm starting to think this guy might like Heavy Rain a little too much. NR: Wow, really? TLoA: It is a little subtle but it is there.
From somewhere far away, I can hear an out of tune bar piano playing a very bizarre polka. I begin hearing a baritone voice screaming out about how all of the people there should dance and stink and how they would all go to the devil. I began to hear the blasting of trumpets. The sounds of thrusters picking up. Banging on a tam-tam. A fusillade of oboes, English horns, and... is that a Heckelphone? Piccolos and clarinets shooting up, to be cut off by the sound of a slapstick. Origami figures being folded. Trucks swerving to dodge an unintended target. The sound of Sturge's admonishing to his students of lesser intelligence. The murmur of a crowd. Applause. Kirby's Dream Land. My variations on it. Chaos. Varèse. The Second Viennese School. Ravel. Tchaikovsky. Behind all of this new noise, the sound of Satie is beginning to slowly fade away.
Time doesn't have a meaning anymore. Now my heart beats to the rhythm I began subdividing at the beginning, going perilously slow as it beats away. Somewhere, I can feel my fingers pressing against the keyboard, but just so that they barely register. I see all sorts of swirling colors, dim shades of blue, turquoise, and gray all beginning to overcome me. I feel... really fucking odd.
And then, something else happens. I begin to feel myself fade from existence. Now, I'm playing on the air, the sound of Satie's chord progression drowned out by all of the other sounds that began to accumulate. The dancing... turian... origami... things... whatever they are... were hovering in front of my vision as the colors began to swirl around it more loudly. I felt myself get laid down on the ground. The sounds get louder. The colors more dim. The dancing objects slow down and begin to fade from existence.
NR: Do you ever go to that part where you're on a time machine and you go to Beethoven's house, only you're the size of a mouse, and a cat chases you, and... TLoA: All the time. NR: And somehow the piano floats and Beethoven suddenly turns into Elton John for like a second. This is weaksauce. TLoA: Well, we're in too deep. We can't back out. NR: It couldn't get any deeper, right? TLoA: Grab a shovel and keep digging. NR: Grab a drill instead!
I don't know what's happening, but I don't care anymore. And as the objects fade back into my mind, I lose all sensation in my body, like I'm floating in a pool of water.
I feel myself lay down, and abruptly the sound cuts off, with only a squealing of violins at the top of their registers to cue me in on what has happened. The objects nearly blind me, and then they fade out into existence as black rules over all.
When sensation returns, I feel myself lying with my back on a hard surface. I'm still swimming in black, but now... I've got a headache too. Like something else forced itself into my brain.
I thought I left the window slightly open... I guess the fact that I have my more formal-ish grey jacket on doesn't help matters at all, especially wearing my long sleeved blue shirt from Gap. I swear, Boston weather is way too cold for my own good. I'd have to get that taken care of...
NR: Ooh, dramatic tension. What is it, what is it? Drumroll, everybody!
Cold metal floor? But the conservatory's practice rooms have a tile floor! And even if I was dragged out, I would expect to feel something like concrete, or grass, or, hell, maybe even being in a seated position against a wall in a police station somewhere. Where was there a place in Boston where there was a cold metal floor?
TLoA: OH THANK GOD. NR: I was half-expecting Pennywise to pop up and drag in the sewers so he could float. Like everything else. They all float. Or the vents. Pennywise is into vents for some reason.
Hell if I know. Unless that Best Buy knows something I don't... Hm...
TLoA: Best Buy? What does that have to—You know what? Fuck it. NR: Or any store, really. Is he trapped in a freeze? That could explain a lot. No wait. It's hot, so no. TLoA: I was playing Vexations and when I woke up... record scratch I had been abducted by aliens?! (cue Walking on Sunshine) NR: Wouldn't be far off.
In the meantime, I realized it would help if I would open my eyes a little bit.
NR: You had your eyes closed the entire time?! TLoA: He was convinced the lights were still out before he touched the ground. NR: "I can do this blindfolded for fun!"
I probably just fell off the piano stool so maybe I just need to see that I fell from that onto-
...
Okay, what the fuck is going on here? I lost consciousness in a practice room.
TLoA: I find it funny he is more concerned about his food spoiling than where he is. NR: Speaking of which, where was his food? What was he eating? TLoA: He strikes me as a breakfast for dinner kind of man. NR: Oh, the Cereal Killer.
Shaking this off, I blinked and looked down at myself. Darting a hand through my pockets, I make sure I had all my essentials. Okay, I have them all. Good.
NR: Oh goddammit, we should've seen this coming. But at least (or unfortunately) he didn't into a ginger. He and the Doctor would get along. TLoA: Fun fact: The Moffat run of Doctor Who is about on par with this fanfic in terms of quality! NR: Hey, I like his episodes!
Looking around, I realize that my back pack is just a short ways off. Good; at least I won't be losing any of my sketches. Why did I bring them with me anyway? Maybe I was anticipating sketching stuff in the movie theater before I ultimately set my mind on Vexations? Eh, whatever.
NR: Another one of his priorities: his backpack! TLoA: Good thing the thing he didn't have on his person was also transported or else that might have been inconvenient.
I stood up, and then suddenly I made one realization far too many.
I was hungry. I was thirsty. And I didn't know where the hell I was. Just perfect. I come out of the equivalent of a combined LSD/alchohol/crack/marijuana trip, and I'm off like this.
Well... Wait. Now that I think about it, I don't remember anything being said about Vexations hallucinations being that bad... If that's the case...
TLoA: Vexations are all like those things combined. Take it from me: a guy who has admitted to never have done any of those things. NR: These users should have more entertaining stories than this.
I move forward, slinging my backpack over my shoulders. It's... oddly futuristic. Like I've been dropped off somewhere. Uh... this is really wierd. Did I black out and wind up in some interactive exhibit?
Ah, well. I get to the alleyway, where hopefully things will be-holy shit!
NR: Yes. Everything you see is hyperrealistic, far beyond HD and 4k. It's… 900kHD4000. TLoA: It is on smart phone definition sadly. The terrors of mobile gaming haven't ceased... NR: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
... Apparently, I had an acid trip so bad I... I don't know... What the fuck...? How...? When...? Who...? Where...?
TLoA: Again, Vexations are like an acid trip. Take it from me: a guy who literally said on this chapter that I don't use drugs. At all. Vexations were just the legal way to get high. Except in states that legalized weeds, but I don't live there. I think. NR: Me neither. Mormons are a bunch of uptight prudes.
NR: If only I could pinch myself… TLoA: My lucid dreams have a lot more of my friends with highly detailed sad clown tramp stamps. This is tame. NR: And a dream I had where some disembodied legs hopped out of some hole in a hallway.
There's no way I've wound up... here, of all places. Or maybe it's the after... no, I won't involve a pun involving some club, even if it's not where I think I am right now.
TLoA: He was thinking of a pun about club? What was the pun? Did it involve baby seals? NR: Or that Azure club. Down in the lower regions. TLoA: Otherwise known as Jersey Shore. NR: Glad the Three Stooges made their lives hell.
It's gotta be a dream. And yet...
Well, there's only one way to find out. I'm going to slap myself. And that's exactly what I do, feeling the harsh sting against my own face as I slapped myself as hard as I could.
NR: Well, I wasn't far off. Nord Ronnoc slaps himself silly. NR: I'M STILL IN THIS LIVING NIGHTMARE! HELP ME! TLoA: IIIIIIIIIIIIII'M STIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL IN A DREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAM SNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAATEEEEERRR!
NR: Line? I just don't understand these ellipses. That's actually in the fic. TLoA: Holy shit, really? NR: Yes. That and the one before. TheLordofAwesome goes and looks TLoA: Hot damn.
Toto, I really, really, really don't think we're in Kansas anymore.
TLoA: "Hey, you do that crossover shoehorning shit in the next story! Leave me the FUCK out of this dumpster fire."
Okay, so somehow, by playing Satie's Vexations, I have found myself teleported to the Mass Effect universe after a wierd kind of acid trip that would have made Raoul Duke lose both his dignity (from screaming like a little girl) and that fucking cigar.
TLoA: Maybe I should have chewed first. NR: Not sure which is more believable, by any stretch of the meaning: this, or being sucked into a haunted Xbox 360 after being struck by lightning. TLoA: At least the latter has the excuse of spooky ghosts. NR: Wooooooooooooooooooooooo!
I had to sit back in the alley for a second, walking back and seeing pretty much the same thing every time I did. And every time I looked, I had to slap myself. This sure as hell isn't some kind of fucked up lucid dream. I still have that feeling that something else is in my head, but it's no longer hurting it. In fact... I've been able to overhear a few things. In English. So it's probably one of those translator things. How I got that, I have no fucking clue.
TLoA: How? Why? Fuck you that's how. NR: No translator needed! In my fics, my characters either wondered why or have to find a way to get a translator.
It's been a half hour since I woke up here. I have no idea how the hell I got here, and I don't have very good memory of the Citadel, such that if I tried to walk around I would not know where the hell I was. I've realized too I have no food, no water, and no credits. And if I do use my money in my wallet, I doubt I can get it converted into enough credits for it to be worth anything. Hell, I don't even know if there's a currency exchange on where I am!
Which... is the Citadel, apparently. I'm just outside of some bar, so I'll just sit here and see what happens.
You know... since this is the Mass Effect universe, I might as well try and find out where Commander Shepard is. Wherever... he or she is, I get the feeling I might get purpose. I mean, I have very little lead in my pencils, I don't have my viola, and I'm pretty sure that there isn't a whole lot of paper in this universe. I think. I'm a little out of shape, I can't really run all too far without needing to pause to catch my breath, and I've never handled a firearm in my life, but I've got agility and flexibility, and I do have some Tae Kwon Do experience on me. If I could only start getting back in shape and get used to the concept of recoil, I imagine I'd be of some use on her mission, especially when people start dropping like flies once the suicide mission at the end of Mass Effect 2 comes along. We'll have to see.
TLoA: I'd rather try and find some Quarian hookers if I were in this situation. For research purposes. NR: Ooooh, but they have a weak immune system. They could get sick! Anyway, I give him five minutes. Tops. TLoA: I'll take that bet. (points to the third story) Money, please. NR: Dammit.
For now, though, I guess I should hang out around this area. The club is still called Chora's Den, after all. I'm probably still in Mass Effect 1.
TLoA: That'd be convenient and probably not the case. NR: Too convenient. TLoA: ...Nope. Couldn't do it with a straight face.
Vexations. Piece for solo piano. Music of Erik Satie. Three lines of music. Tritones in every chord. In its entire perfomance history, it has never been played by a single player. Those that tried had to stop due to hallucinations.
Or, in my case, because they get teleported to other universes for daring to do so in a practice room on the top floor of the conservatory.
NR: And that's the end of the prologue. Wow. TLoA: We did it, guys! NR: YAY! Onto the first chapter, which is called Sessions: Symphony no. 6. TLoA: Okay, unless you are writing a JoJo's Bizarre Adventure fanfic, you do not have the right to use musical references as chapter names. NR: That would be awesome. TLoA: But we'll cover that NEXT TIME!
@Nord Ronnoc: Some of which are controversial in the third entry that Herr Wozzeck had to rewrite parts of the third entry. These we'll discuss one day.
Guy Who Has Nothing Better To Do, seeing he doesn't want to do drugs, decided to play a song called Vexations on a piano. Somehow, he gets transported from one vaguely described place to somewhere near Chora's Den on the Citadel in Mass Effect. He panics, with his priorities being his food and his backpack. That's really all there is to it.
A/N: All right, so we're back with some more Mass Vexations.
NR: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! TLoA: I mean, yeah. I wasn't expecting a chapter of some other fanfic when I went to Chapter 1.
So yeah, if you haven't heard of Vexations before... well, now you know pretty much all there is to know about it. It's... kind of hard to play for those reasons, although most people that tried to play it stopped when they saw elves dancing on top of the piano.
NR: I looked it up on Wikipedia, and nowhere does it say anything about hallucinations. But you should take it from this guy, who has never taken drugs in his life. TLoA: Why would he need to explain what they are in an author's note? Wasn't half the prologue dedicated to this shit? NR: Pretty sure it's for those who think, "Wow, what bullshit is this?"
So, you're all probably wondering how I plan to get into Shepard's group, right? Well, look no further than this chapter, in which I show you how I do that. Takes a spin on a certain person's recruitment, so yeah. Beware, as this is a pretty long chapter. (As will the rest of the installments, I think...)
TLoA: Ah, the always reliable "opening up a chapter of your fanfic with a quote from some important guy." A classic. NR: That not a lot of people would know. "Because fuck you reader, I'm smarter than you, that's why."
I've been hanging around Chora's Den. And there is a hell of a lot on my mind that I've found out.
TLoA: Like why are the chicken wings $13.99?! That's high way robbery!
I checked my cell phone in the alley, and noticed that no matter where I walked, I did not get any bars, even when I discreetly checked outside of the alley. Well, shit. I'm cut off from everybody I knew. I'm... I'm really alone now.
Alone. That's... terrifying, really. I mean, I lived by myself, but I was never alone. I had people I could trust. People I could talk to. People I could go to if the situation was right... Shit... This is a bit hard to swallow.
TLoA: I knew I shouldn't have switched to AT&T! NR: No, Verizon definitely can't hear you now, sorry. TLoA: Why would he even assume his phone would work on a giant space station that's trillions of light years away from Earth? I mean, c'mon that's just silly. NR: I dunno. Desperation, maybe?
I'll hang on to the phone, however. As a memento of a life gone by so I can think of all the people that will probably miss me most.
NR: And those you'll probably forget in thirty minutes, give or take. TLoA: Time to drown my sorrows in the breasts of a Quarian hooker...
I wonder. If I got teleported here, then what happened to my body over there? Did I die? Did I disappear? Did I get found in an alley somewhere in the city of Boston? I don't know, and I never will.
NR: What, is he talking to the reader all the sudden? TLoA: Oh God... Can he see us?! NR: Oh shit, yeah! And he has a thing against me! RUN!
Knowing my parents, though, they're extremely paranoid, and they would throw a fit when they find out I'm no longer there. I just wish that I could somehow send them a message. Let them know I'm okay, that I'm still alive, and that...
TLoA: You think they'd be more concerned if he told them he woke up on a space station from a video game? NR: Or ask if he was high. But he has never taken drugs before, right? TLoA: As the prologue has assured us, no he has not but is familiar with the effects of various drugs.
Seeing as how I wouldn't need my wallet, though, I emptied it of everything in there, including my bills, my drivers' license, my fraternity membership card, all my rewards cards... I figured the wallet would be useless, but I decided to try anyway.
TLoA: Turns out those rewards cards were still valid in this universe. He shot himself in the foot there. NR: "Dammit! There's a Target and a Barnes & Noble nearby?"
When I went to a salarian vendor with it, though, he saw something vintage that would look good in there, so I got a good three thousand credits for that. I dared not give away my identification, however, knowing that I would never live it down if I did (especially since I'm trying to blend in here). Apparently, it's a good deal, as I've found out that it'll buy me enough food to last me for five days.
NR: He's gonna have a fun time finding a job. Think about it. He came from the past, technically, so his lifespan was about half of what was in Mass Effect, his immune system was crap, and maybe his skills would be incompatible. So, he's SOL. And he wouldn't understand squat beyond what the games showed and told him. TLoA: Yeah, well, that's just, like, your opinion, man. NR: Just saying.
I also held on to my pack. Or... tried to, at least. I got robbed by batarians before I was able to sell my wallet, and they stole my backpack and therefore all of my sketches and manuscript paper. Well, there goes that. I get the feeling it'll bite me in the ass one of these days, but unfortunately there's nothing an unarmed human who's wearing clothing worthy of the Illusive Man can do in a situation with armed batarians. God... Just looking into those four eyes was way creepier than I thought it would be.
NR: A wild batarian appeared! MC used wimp slap! It wasn't very effective. Come to think of it, batarians have rescinded their Citadel Space representation, so they're not allowed there. Wouldn't that one batarian's presence set off alarms all over the station? TLoA: No, given that Krogan are allowed to walk through the Citadel just fine.
So now that I'm officially somewhat invisible (to be completely invisible once I can get rid of these clothes) I've been hanging around outside Chora's Den, waiting for something to happen.
NR: Oh really? TLoA: If it doesn't begin and end with "I got shit faced drunk" then it probably won't work.
I'm a pretty terrible liar, so I'm pretty sure someone will be suspicious, but where I lack in telling lies I'm a little better at holding back vital information and making things extremely hard to track. So hopefully, that'll save me.
NR: That's not a plan, that's the skills needed for a goal! TLoA: It's barely even a concept.
I've also resolved never to tell anybody about Mass Effect the video game. The only people who wouldn't think that me being in another world was sane are self-insert authors, and even then... that's fictional, so they won't help me now. People would think I'm nuts if I told. That's partly why I came up with a cover story, actually: it gives me a reason to be on the Citadel without really seeming odd.
At least I didn't wind up on Eden Prime: that would have screwed any efforts on my part to make up that cover story, especially since I needed time to do so.
TLoA: Again, "shit faced drunk" and you are golden. NR: Unless he somehow happens to be on an unlivable planet or in the vacuum of space. Wait, that would still work.
I guess also that since I know the events of the game, I can always just sidle along. Hiding it will be the tough part, though. Especially when we get to Virmire.
NR: So you're not going to help out, maybe prevent tragedies from happening? TLoA: Is it more or less of a dick move to withhold information like that? NR: For our hero? Yes. I've seen fics that give out better excuses than this.
Dear Jesus, I am not looking forward to seeing who gets offed in an incredibly tragic manner once we get there. I should say something, but... it'll give me away. And people will think I'm insane. And then I'll have no place here. It's... Now that I think about it a little more, it's actually a bit scary.
NR: Weird? Hopefully a typo. It's weird that I've seen this typo around.
Here I am, expecting prettyness and rainbows and all that, and in my first day here I'm robbed by batarians. The irony is palpable. Not like the Mass Effect universe was totally bright and happy anyway, but still, I was expecting it to be a bit more... civilized than this.
TLoA: Why would you expect that in a universe where mecha-Cthulhus routinely wipe out all life in the galaxy?! NR: And death and terror on every occasion. Like real life. TLoA: And racism! Can't forget that!
It's just... I need to get used to the fact that this isn't a game. I need to think of it like Heavy Rain. You fuck up, you die. No plot armor here. No second chances. No continues. No dying a lot. No becoming the object of the Angry Video Game Nerd's rants, even if he wouldn't do something this recent anyway.
TLoA: Unless you are Ethan and Shelby, in which case have all the plot armor until the end of the game. Speaking of Heavy Rain, dear readers, did you know there was originally supposed to be a psychic link between Ethan and Shelby that was dropped and created massive plot holes? Now you know! NR: Like it was removed because it deters with the game's "realism", right? TLoA: Yeah, the game was supposed to have this mystical element to it, like all David Cage games, and the one in HR was that Ethan was supposed to develop a psychic link with Shelby because Shelby was there when he and his son got hit by a car. It got cut but it created some... problems. NR: Like I said. "Realism." As if Noman's glasses would be considered "realistic."
John, I wish I could give you a pat on the back now. At least in the Fire Emblem universe you were able to definitively prove that you were from another universe. Here, I have no way to prove it, except maybe via what is most likely a vintage cell phone. And my glasses. Those too, but then again, if the Illusive Man can have that suit, chances are there are people in need of glasses. So I salute you. Also, because you've given me a tentative survival guide on how to survive being in another universe, and how to make friends in said alternate universe.
NR: Advertisement for another fic, ho! TLoA: If this story were made today I suspect we'd actually be seeing the prospect of a self-insert fanfic cinematic universe. NR: "You think you're the only self-insert? You've become part of a bigger multiverse. You just don't know it yet." TLoA: MC of this fanfic will return in The Inserters. NR: Also, his early-21st century clothing is considered fancy? TLoA: 21st century is the new Victorian era.
I'm just waiting for something eventful to happen. It's been eight hours since I first got here, and all I can say is that being in the Citadel is incredibly fucking surreal, especially with all that's happened.
TLoA: Finally, a hooker! NR: What this happened over a day? Has he been sulking around with no place to live? TLoA: Well, he would technically be homeless. NR: Yeah.
I really wouldn't have minded in any other event, but I noticed that she wore a black and grey suit, her movements seeming quite desperate as she talked to the bouncer.
NR: This is gonna end well. TLoA: Thank goodness too, I ran out of combinations on my kaleidoscope. NR: If only he had his Lucky 8 ball with him.
And so, I moved closer to the conversation. I manage to get close enough to hear some of their conversation without being noticed by either of them. I lean against the wall and notice that the quarian seems a little exasperated if her breaths are anything to go by. I of course can't look, or they'll know I'm listening in. Still, I steal a couple of glances at them before turning away. It's a bit of a wait, but finally, I hear the doors opening, and another bouncer whispers to the bouncer that the quarian was talking to.
NR: Totally not a stalker. No sir-ee, he's a model citizen, through and through! None of that dirty deeds like those other fellas! TLoA: "Is this that hooker Fist hired?"
"Fist is a little busy right now," says the bouncer once I hear the door open again. "But he's agreed to meet with you in an alley in the Upper Wards. It'll be close to the markets there, and it's the only alleyway visible around there. You can't miss it."
NR: Holy shit, the MC and Conrad Verner. TLoA: In the same place?! NR: Like the MC, Conrad is a creepy fan who wants to join Shepard on their adventures. By Verner's account, it'll probably end poorly for our hero. TheLordofAwesome points to the third story. NR: Technically, I mean it. You'll see. Nord Ronnoc is totally not using foreshadowing in the slightest.
"All right," says the quarian. All right, there's that kind of thick accent that we all know from her! To be honest, it reminds me a little of my Russian friends back home. "Who can I expect to be there to hand the information to?"
"Before Fist shows up, you'll meet up with a turian and two salarians," replies the bouncer. "After that, Fist will show up with the Shadow Broker.
NR: By not being a creep. TLoA: Why doesn't he just say he is the Shadow Broker? I mean, that'd be an excuse to explain why he knows certain things. NR: That would've been awesome. Unfortunately, he didn't think of that.
"All right," the quarian says. "When?"
"Head to the alley in two hours," replies the bouncer. "The turian and salarians will meet up with you ten minutes after you tell us you're there. Then Fist will arrive with the Shadow Broker around five minutes after that."
"All right," she says. "Thank you! You have no idea how important it is that I get this information to him!"
TLoA: What can I say except you're welcome~! NR: What a polite bouncer.
As the quarian leaves, I see her go right past me. She seemed to be in good shape in being able to get whatever it was out, but I know otherwise. I'll make stuff up as we go, but...
I did pick up a piece of a rather old metal pipe from the vendor I sold my wallet to. And as I feel the cool metal against my leg, I know I might be able to make this plan work. After all, improvised crowbars are pretty fun, since the end is fashioned a bit like one.
NR: Wanna hear a joke? TLoA: Sure, let's hear it. NR: A guy with a pipe versus a couple of guys armed with guns. TLoA: Who would win in a Death Battle? NR: Now, with the research at hand…
Now I just need to wait for two hours. Turning on and checking the clock on my cell phone, I make a mental note to check it every so often as I leave the outside of Chora's Den to get myself something to eat. Something... tasty, preferably.
NR: "No, I'm not a cannibal. I don't eat human flesh, thank you." TLoA: "...and because the price on those chicken wings are too damn high!" NR: "And no nonhuman flesh as well."
I've got it covered, though. For now, I'm gonna check my cell phone clock every so often, see that I don't show up late. Once I get Citadel time, it won't be so hard.
His crimson face is kind of hard to miss, really. Especially since he's a krogan and all that, and it's kind of hard not to notice the big guys of the Citadel's populace when they show up. Shame they have the genophage affecting them and all; It would be pretty awesome to see a krogan with a child.
TLoA: Hey, remember how the Krogan were an unstoppable horde bent on galactic conquest? NR: Hahaha. Those were the times. They can't do that with the Genophage around. Ahahahaha.
I stood against a wall, watching the krogan harrass the bouncer about Fist. It was kind of easy to tell how well the conversation was going, given that their body language was quite violent. I was pretty afraid Wrex would pull out his shotgun.
NR: And he's a goddamn surgeon with the shotgun. I should know, I'm also a shotgun surgeon.
But if I know him, he won't do that. His target is Fist, after all; since Wrex does believe in honor I'm confident that he won't try to kill the bouncer.
TLoA: Then Wrex goes on a mass shooting in this club, proving Mr. Insert wrong. NR: Some honor, right?
Their conversation gets louder, though, such that I don't really need to be close to hear their words. I think the Shadow Broker was just mentioned, but that is probably just me. I shifted a little closer and was rewarded with a shouting match between the two of them. The one needs to get to Fist, the other trying to keep him safe. I'm aware of why he's trying to get Fist killed. Betraying the Shadow Broker is pretty serious business.
TLoA: "Everyone betray me, I'M FED UP WIT DIS WORLD!"
Hey, are those C-Sec officers? Hm. They're taking Wrex away now, although the krogan is suprisingly not putting up a lot of resitance. Hm. Maybe he's more turian than krogan... Makes me wonder...
TLoA: Maybe because killing the cops might be, I don't know, problematic for this job? I don't know, I'm just spit balling here.
Well, he's going with them, telling the C-Sec officers what he was doing. And he made a mention of Fist betraying the Shadow Broker.
All right. I've got my confirmation. Now all I need is to hope that he got the odd feeling that someone was boring holes into the back of his armor and I'll be all set.
NR: "Oh dear, look at the time! Whoop whoop whoop whoop!"
Well, I better make my way to the upper wards. I haven't caught sight of Kaidan or Ashley yet, so I'm pretty sure that Shepard hasn't gone to Harkin or Barla Von yet. I hope they're not running behind; I'd hate to have to rescue her on my own...
TLoA: Guess what happens, dear readers. NR: He... well, you'll find out soon.
I leave the area surrounding Chora's Den, feeling the makeshift crowbar against my leg as I took the elevator to the Upper Wards, making my way past the marketplace to see the alley I was sure I had right. I hid in the shadows, looking after the entrance to the alley.
TLoA: "This is Snake. Bouncer, can you hear me?" NR: "Copy that, Bouncer. The target is in position. You know your mission."
I rub my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. I've only got one chance to do this. No pause screens. No reloading a save. If I mess up, I die. No turning back from there. I also only have a crowbar as a weapon. Tali only has a handgun, from what I've seen. And I can't just press X to not die; this is serious shit. And to be honest, it's kind of scaring me a little.
NR: No shields, no armor, no omni-tool just his clothes on his back and a goddamn pipe. Take a wild guess on how that's gonna end. TLoA: How about "Press X To Shaun" since you love Heavy Rain so much?
NR: And it'll be one long fucking road, I tell ya.
Pushing myself off the wall I was leaning against, I follow Tali into the alleyway, knowing that once I was there I would have less than ten minutes to tell her it was a trap.
NR: "Oh no, this random guy has a pipe as a weapon! What are we gonna do!" "We have guns, you idiot! Shoot him!" TLoA: "Excuse me, but this is a crowbar." NR: "...It's a pipe." TLoA: "You say toe-may-toe, I say crowbar." NR: "Oh screw this, shoot him already!"
Barely ten seconds later, I see the quarian. I advance quickly, knowing I only have so much time to move. The quarian looked at me, and I think I sense puzzlement behind her mask. It's hard to tell at this distance. But everything's exactly as it should be, bathed in crimson light. Oh, hey, there's an extra crate over by where the salarians are supposed to stand. Pretty small one, too, up to maybe my waist. Good thing I brought the crowbar along.
TLoA: "But this works too. You got the money? I don't do any weird stuff, by the way."
I approached then, running down a short flight of stairs before letting a hand fall through my pants.
"You are," I say. "And you're looking to give information to the Shadow Broker, right?"
She rears her head back as I get a hold of my imrpovised crowbar. She said nothing for a few seconds as I produced it out, tucking it under my armpit.
"What... how did you know?" she asks. "Are you with... Oh... Oh no..."
With this, she raises her handgun at me, prompting me to raise my hands slowly, the crowbar hovering above my head.
"Saren found me, didn't he?" she says, voice etched with worry. "You're here to kill me before I can hand the information to the Shadow Broker... Choose your next words carefully or I'll shoot!"
I move over to a nearby crate, leaving the crowbar on there. She leaves a hand on her pistol as I do so. Honestly, I can't blame her.
TLoA: "Look I'm just going to put my totally a crowbar down." NR: "I don't think that's what a crowbar looks like." Besides, "voice etched with worry"? That's more like anger to me than anything, really.
"Yeah, he heard," I say, patting the metal object lightly before turning back to face her with my arms crossed. "But I'm not here to kill you. I'm here because I'm good at eavesdropping."
Tali eyes me oddly, and I can feel an inquisitve glance on my person from behind the face mask. "You're good at eavesdropping?" she asks. "What does that mean?"
NR: "What do you think it means, genius?" TLoA: These two aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, are they? NR: Not in this fic, apparently.
I shrug, walking away from the crate. I hope she doesn't plan to shoot me. "I overheard your conversation with the bouncer from Chora's Den," I say. "About how you were supposed to meet here. And how the Shadow Broker himself would meet you here."
Nodding, she seemed to understand what I was saying. "Of course," she replies, nodding. "Y-you're definitely good at eavesdropping. But why come here? You're going to kill me before I can get this information to him?"
TLoA: "My dear, if I were here to kill you I would have chunked this crowbar-" "Pipe." "SHUT UP!"
All right, here's the moment of truth. Press the X trigger, and here we go.
"I already told you, I'm not here to kill you," I reply, shaking my head. "I'm here, because I'm a good Samaritan. And being a good Samaritan, I'm here because you're in terrible danger."
NR: Y'know, when I read this line of dialogue, I couldn't help but notice something... off about the dialogue in his writings in general. I've showed his works to a friend of mine, and he says the dialogue feels stilted. Do you get that impression as well? TLoA: It does feel a little off. Like, it doesn't feel like a natural thing to say to someone, more like something that would be rehearsed. NR: Yeah, exactly.
I don't let her attempt to form a question as I walk around. "The Shadow Broker doesn't meet anyone in person," I continue. "He only works through agents, and even they don't see the Shadow Broker. Anyone who's got even a small amount of knowledge about this galaxy's underworld knows that."
At this, the quarian's hold on her pistol falters, shaking slightly. "So... You mean... Why should I trust what you say?" she asks. "Are you telling me Fist lied to me?"
"Unfortunately," I say, nodding as I lean against one of the alley walls. "That's a problem on its own, but around five, ten minutes ago there was a krogan harrassing one of the bouncers out there. When they called C-Sec on him, I overheard something about how Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker, and that the Shadow Broker hired him personally to take Fist out. So it's safe to assume that this 'Fist' person is working for someone else. Probably this 'Saren' guy you're so afraid of."
Her grip falters even more on her gun. "Y... You mean... He was planning to kill me here?" she asks.
TLoA: "I suppose I should have suspected something when he told me to meet him here in Dead Hooker Alley. Hindsight is 20/20."
"I think so," I reply. "I think it's pretty reasonble to think that. At any rate, I overheard, and came along partly to see what someone would want you dead over, and partly because it sounds like it's too vital a piece of information to let simply disappear."
Tali shook her head, lowering her pistol and attaching it to her person. "I knew he couldn't be trusted!" she says suddenly. "I knew it from the moment he refused to speak to me in person!"
TLoA: Oh yeah, cause the name "Fist" sounds like a name you can trust. NR: Not as bad as Kit Fisto for someone with a bunch of tentacles for a face.
I raise an eyebrow at this, shaking my head as I make my way back to my crowbar. "Really?" I asked. "If that was true, why didn't you just cop out? Say you had gotten an infection or something like that?"
The quarian shrugs as I take a hold of my crowbar again. "This was my only way to get the information to the Shadow Broker," she replies. "Its... You know the spectre Saren?"
Oh, dear, here we go. Pointless exposition. I'll take the trigger to keep it going, though. It'll make it easier to maintain my cover like that.
"Not really," I say. Half-truth, go! "I grew up on Earth my entire life, and I've only been in the Citadel for a few days, partly against my will. So I'm not too familiar with him. But, I know that Spectres are the Council's best soldiers, and that they're above Citadel laws."
NR: "Wait, you know about the Shadow Broker but not the Spectres?" "Uh... I grew up on Earth." "But how did you know about—" "Just go with it." TLoA: Is it really so hard to have just said "yes"? I mean, Saren isn't an unknown figure or something. NR: Apparently not, judging by the length of this chapter. And holy shit, it's about 10k words. TLoA: I get the feeling this story would be a lot shorter if the MC didn't feign ignorance on established facts of the ME world.
"You have that right," replied Tali. "I encountered him during my Pilgrimage... Keelah, I'm shocked that I'm still alive after that..."
Understanding this, I nod. If that's true... God help us when we have to fight his Sovereign-imbued implants at the end of all this...
NR: Wow, right from the getgo he's willing to join Shepard's crew, despite knowing about the dangers. That's dedication. And pretty creepy. TLoA: Well, we'd have a pretty short story if he just chilled on the Citadel.
Okay," I said. "And why would he be trying to kill you?"
She looked down at the ground before I felt her gaze into my eyes. "I've got... information about him," she says, tilting her head to the side. "He's a very evil man, and I have to do something to bring him down. He's working with the geth, and he needs to be stopped!"
NR: Aside from rephrasing that song from Fleet and the Flotilla, I couldn't imagine Tali say or rephrase anything that cheesy. TLoA: Yeah that was... a bit much.
"I see," I say, wondering why she didn't just go to the council with that information but deciding to ask that later. "Listen, I need you to trust me. I'll try to get you out of this alive, and if that happens we'll be in good hands. But please, I hope you can work with me here. It's for your survival.
TLoA: "Come onto me if you want to live." "Um, don't you mean come with you?" "Why? What did I say?"
She iss silent for a brief period of time. I can feel her gaze on my shoes, and she mulls over the information. I of course know that if we don't hurry we're going to be in big trouble, but she seems to understand that this kind of decision had big implications for her survival. After mulling it over, she nods.
"All right," she says. "I'll trust you for now. I think it's a little suspicious that you'll do something for a total stranger who you only know, but this sounds serious, so I'll work with you."
I nod, smiling softly. "You've made a good choice, madam." I had to fight the urge to say Tali. Fortunately, I didn't blunder, which I would have expected myself to do. "With that done, we only have... how long before your friends show up?"
She glances at me and an orange glow surrounds her hand. Ah, her Omni Tool. "Four minutes at the least."
Shit. I was hoping to get her out of the alley before then.
TLoA: The only thing we are missing is a fedora tip. NR: "M'lady."
"Shit..." I say, shaking my head. "If we leave the alleyway now, they'll know, because we won't be too far away. And they'll try to kill you on the spot."
Tali shook her head, glancing around nervously. "Did you have any ideas, then?" she asks. "You had an idea to come, but you didn't come to me without a way to get out?"
NR: "Well, I have this crowbar here..." "Again, pipe. And you have to be stupid enough to go after people with guns. TLoA: I'm starting to think he really didn't plan this out. NR: That's obvious.
I had already thought of that possibility, though, knowing the layout of the alleyway, where people could take cover, all that crap. "Not exactly," I say, taking my crowbar in my hands. I'm not that stupid; I scanned this area before coming and thought of a battle plan. "I'll go hide in this crate. When the turian gives the signal to kill you, I'll jump out of it and attempt to get them with this piece of pipe."
TLoA: Oh, now you acknowledge that it is a pipe! Immediately after calling it (incorrectly) a crowbar! Again!
She glances at me as I walk to a crate, bringing my makeshift crowbar to it as I pry it open. It was a little hard, but I put my full weight on and the crate pops open with a slight hiss. I lift the cover slightly, scanning it briefly and finding nothing of note in there. I nod, facing her.
"Projectile attack, I suppose?" she asks.
I nod. "Plus a swipe if any one of them is close enough," I add, lifting the lid of the crate and realizing that it conveniently seemed to hinge on the back. Perfect. The salarians will stand close to this crate unless real life decides to be a bitch and position them somewhere else.
"Doesn't sound very useful if you ask me," replied Tali with a shrug.
I shake my head, chuckling. "If nothing else, it'll provide a distraction that's just long enough for you to pull out your gun and shoot everything in sight," I say. "Either way, I'll probably miss if I toss it since my aim is terrible. Yours shouldn't be so bad, though, and even if I don't hit anything the action should give you just enough time to take a few shots at them and take cover."
NR: A man with a pipe but with no plan that won't get him killed. But take it from him.
"All right," she says as I step in. "I don't know who you are, and you're a complete stranger, but... thank you anyways. I'm not sure I would know many humans that would do something like this for no reason."
Before I sink into the crate, I look at her, nodding. "I'm doing this because I've got nothing else to do," I reply. "But it's always a pleasure. And we'll get the introductions out of the way once this whole mess blows over."
NR: Great, the neckbeard is also a "gentleman." TLoA: Little did he know that crate is going to be taken away by top men.
With this, I quickly but steadily assume my hiding place in the crate, letting the lid settle over me softly. Darkness surrounded me, and I gripped my crowbar in my hand. My heart is racing a mile a minute. It's like a challenge straight out of Heavy Rain. Don't press the R1 trigger to shoot the poor bastards, and we'll be in good hands. And when the X trigger appears, don't wait to press it. And no jumping up and down in your giddiness. That will give everything away and Tali will be dead before you can say 'shit pickle'. Shifting my crowbar slightly so that it doesn't poke out, I hug my knees together. I could fall asleep like this, with my knees up to my chin, but my heart's beating so fast I can't help but stay awake.
NR: Again with Heavy Rain! TLoA: Heavy Rain Problem #176: The whole "Kramer is the Origami Killer" sub-plot makes no sense what so ever given that the guy looking into it, Scot Shelby, is the Origami Killer and goes with this charade even though it nearly gets him killed. NR: How the hell is he able to set up all of these elaborate trials and traps by himself? TLoA: On a private dick's salary, no less.
Finally, I hear the faint sound of footsteps.
"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya?" asks a voice. Turian.
Well, there goes the face to face introduction. "Yes, that would be me," she replies. "You were sent ahead by Fist?"
"Yes," he says. I can't see in this darkness, but I know that he's probably looking at her lecherously, just like he did in the game.
Wait... If that son of a bitch has necrophilia on his mind... Ew... No... Don't think about it. Don't think about it. I've already undressed enough people with my eyes. No. Don't think about-
NR: Oh dear, if this is a warning sign of things to come in this fic, so help me. TLoA: Now I didn't get very far into the second story but I don't recall any corpse fucking. NR: You'll see what I'm talking about.
"So we just wait here until he comes around."
Ah, thank you Tali. That certainly saved me some awkwardness.
"Yes," replies the turian. "You're in good hands."
I could imagine Tali's smug look under her facemask. Good thing that people can't actually read emotions behind that thing; it makes being smug that much more fun, I should think. Especially for her, since she gets to enjoy all the screentime before she says the line.
NR: Aside from, y'know, tone of voice, hand gestures, or even the glowing eyes behind her facemask. Makes you think. TLoA: The very corny line. NR: That too.
Of course, I'm getting a bit restless in here. I know I can't shift around, though, because that would suck.
NR: Maybe this isn't a good plan. Just saying. "Argh, I should've known crates are hard to move in! *grunts*" TLoA: Well maybe you should have booked it instead. Just saying, C-Sec isn't that far away.
"So if I am in good hands, why are your friends still hanging on to their weapons?" she asks.
"Ah, good point," says the turian. "Guys, you can leave your weapons on that crate over there. Keep them within reach though, just in case we need them."
I suddenly hear a pair of pistols being dropped on my crate.
Ah. Good thinking, Tali. Good thinking. Separate them from their weapons. It'll make it all the better with the pivot on this crate, since it'll put distance between them and their firearms, and it'll also be a better distraction when they go around to reach for them. Better for me, because I won't be dealing with point-blank range when I knock their weapons away. Thus, the distraction works.
NR: Press X to Not Die TLoA: "JASON!" "Who's there?!" "Oh, shit. Wrong X trigger."
As if on cue, I hear the turian grab his firearm at the same time I heard Tali grab hers. That's all the time I give myself before I burst from the crate, startling the salarians who were just reaching for their guns. They look at me in surprise as their weapons clatter away behind me.
NR: Before he stumbles out like a dumbass. TLoA: It is convenient these trained assassins are idiots or else this might have gone worse for our dear Proto Ganist.
I don't give any of them time to react. Jumping out of the crate shortly, I bring up one of my legs in a kick. It hits the salarian to my right, sending him stumbling back. I don't give them any time before I hit the other salarian over the head with my crowbar, my other foot leaning against the edge of the crate as I swing the metal object. It won't be enough to incapacitate them given their armor, but it's good enough for a distraction.
I overestimated my plan, as the turian suddenly noticed that I had appeared out of nowhere, stalling for a few seconds. Gunshots ring out, and I briefly see the turian fall to his side, facepaint partly marred by blue blood as holes formed in his armor. Okay, so I won't have to toss the crowbar, after all.
I will have to deal with the salarians, though.
The salarian on the right dove for his firearm, but I had already stepped out of the crate by then. I tossed my crowbar at the alien as it came for its firearm.
Of course, I missed, the projectile clattering to the side. It did crack the glass on the rebound from the wall, though, helping the distraction. Taking this as an opportunity, I leapt onto the alien, scrambling on top of it. After a few seconds, my hand extended to the pistol that was there, hearing another set of gunshots ring out.
Thinking quickly, I brought the pistol to the armor of the salarian's head. Poor guy is still struggling against me, though, as he's trying to wrest the thing out of my grip. He cracks the glass on his helmet at one point, such that it would probably shatter if done again.
Heh. He's fighting a hand battle with a violist, who is required by nature of his instrument to have strong arms and stronger hands. I come out of that victorious, putting the gun to his head and firing.
NR: An assassin has weaker hand strength than a violinist? Since when? TLoA: Did Saren hire these guys on the cheap?
Oh God. The recoil. I fired at an angle such that my entire arm swung back the slightest bit. I can impersonate the Venus de Milo, so it's not that much of a problem, but still... My funny bone... Ow...
Can't let it get to me, though; I gotta do the double tap. I quickly fire it again, and the bullet goes into the helmet. I know Salarians have small heads, so I shoot it again, satisfied when I see blood seeping out from the cracks of the glass on his face-mask.
Taking a few deep breaths in, I realize what I've... Shit, I just killed someone. Someone who was going to kill someone else... but still... Shit, now I know how that guy from Southland must feel about this. The fact he was going to do wrong doesn't change much. But... still... Fuck, I can't believe I'm killing people in an alternate universe. What would Pupa say if she saw me doing this?
Shit. I haven't got time to dwell on it. I'll think about it later...
Gathering my composure, I stand back up, breathing in and out quickly. I look behind me and see that the other salarian and the turian are both dead. A pool of blue blood surrounded the turian, and the salarian was still, its face armor having shattered to reveal a few bullet holes in its head.
NR: Hm, yes. Carnage, violence. How quaint. TLoA: Personally, I find all this violence shallow and pedantic. Mmm, yes.
Now all that's left is to hear Brad Pitt's comically exaggerated Southern accent from above and this will be straight out of the bar scene from Inglourious Basterds.
NR: Oh bull, save that for Nazis. And remember: a punch a day keeps a Nazi away. Because they deserve it. TLoA: Wow he got over his murdering of a man rather quickly. NR: No big deal. I'll just bottle it up and save the reaction for later. What could go wrong?
"All right," I say. "That was... intense..." I roll my arm around, feeling a small sense of discomfort in my shoulder. It'll go away, though. I'm confident of that.
Tali looks at me inquisitively. "You've never used a gun in your life, have you?" she asks.
Shrugging, I shake my head. "I'm a musician, not a soldier," I replied.
"The recoil doesn't seem so bad elsewhere. Makes me wish I hadn't spent all of my life on Earth, honestly..." I then feel the nerves along my forearm as I think about my funny bone. "Actually, now that I think about it... Ow..."
NR: "Maybe toughing it out turns out to be a bad idea."
She nods understandingly. Tilting her head to the side, she holsters her gun back. "A musician?" she says earnestly. "I knew humans did quite a lot of that, but I was never certain that one would help me out here. Where's the tool of your craft?"
"It's..." I say, hesitating as I try to decide whether or not to wait to give my cover story. I give up, throwing my arms up. "Complicated. It's very, very complicated."
NR: Wow, first try with your cover story and you gave up on the spot. Great job, you idiot. Great job. TLoA: He must have realized that it was a fucking terrible cover story.
"I see..." says Tali. "I guess introductions are in order. You heard my name in the crate, I take it?"
"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," I recite, smiling. "It's a lovely name. It's got a ring to it."
I can feel the nervous energy from her as her face mask seems to point down. "Oh... thank you," she says. "And you are...?"
"****** *********," I reply, holding out my hand to her. "My good friends call me Art."
"Very well then... Arch?" she asks. "I want to make sure I have that right."
Oh, dear, I mispronounced my own name again. Blame that on the fact that my 't's sound a lot like 'ch's if they fall at the end of a word. "Spelled A-R-T," I say, clarifying my name.
"Ah, okay, Art," she says. She takes my hand and shakes it. "Thank you for saving my life."
TLoA: Okay, so does Tali have a faulty translator or something? 'Cause there is no reason why she should have botched his name. NR: Or the author assumed Tali understands English. TLoA: For that matter how is telling her the letters of his name, which are English, going to help? 'Cause I don't think Quarians are going to understand the English alphabet. NR: It just raises too many questions.
Speaking of which... This is a little odd. Shepard and her crew haven't shown up yet. This... is a little jarring. So they are running behind. But... But where does this leave...
NR: Does that mean somehow Shepard's behind because s/he's distracted by sidequests? TLoA: Fucking Conrad…
Thinking of this, I nodded, having a tough time masking my agitation. "You're welcome," I say.
She seems to catch the wary tone in my voice. "What's wrong?" she asks.
Dr. Michel, of course. But I'll feed it to you another way. "Uh, Tali..." I say. "I don't know, but... was there anybody else you told about this information about Saren?"
At this, she's taken aback, and I can feel the horror emanating from her body language.
"Oh, no..." she said. "Dr. Michel..."
Playing along, I raise my eyebrow. "Dr. Michel?" I ask, trying to sound convincing. "Who's that?"
"Oh, she's the one who sent me to Fist!" she said, almost breathlessly. "Oh, no... Fist must have sent some men after her! We have to make sure she's all right!"
"Well, let's not stay here any longer!" I say, knowing that time is of the essence. "Come on! To the-... wherever she is!"
"Follow me!" she said. "She's in a medical clinic, so we can probably still save her!"
We don't hesitate a second longer after that. We're both bolting out of the alley, myself following Tali as she leads the way through the upper wards.
NR: "Quick, Tali! To the Art-mobile!" TLoA: "That's just a crate…"
A few seconds later, we encounter a few turians and one, two humans in C-Sec uniform. They're gathered outside of a small little clinic that Tali leads me to. The quarian seems to shake a little bit at the sight of the C-Sec officers. I can't say I blame her: if what I think happened happened, then it would perfectly explain Shepard's absence. And to think that if I hadn't been where I was when I was there, Tali would be dead...
Shit, that's a thought. What would have happened if Tali died? Nobody would have found out about Saren until it was too late. And then the reapers would have come and destroyed the galaxy... Fuck, that's a really frightening thought.
TLoA: Well, he isn't wrong. NR: As much as I hate it.
But I don't get to contemplate that, as one of the C-Sec officers turns to us. It's a turian with odd face paint on him, and he regards the quarian and I.
TLoA: "The Quarian and I" was the lesser known Mass Effect remake of "The King and I".
"Excuse me, sir, madam," he says, looking at me. "Do you have any business here?"
I blinked. Tali was too afraid to say anything, so I spoke up after clearing my throat. "Well, kind of," I tell him. "Do you know what might have happened to a certain Dr. Michel?"
The turian regarded us with some kind of dismay, and I realized what had happened. "Unfortunately, I do," he says. "She was shot and killed by three human attackers barely three minutes ago. One of our detectives had gone to her to get something when she was killed."
I can feel the air around Tali tense, and suddenly she brought a hand to her mask. "Oh, no..." she said.
The turian seems to sense the worry in her voice, and she looks over to her. "Madam, are you all right?" he asks.
"N... not really..." she says. "Oh... Oh no... This is..."
The turian gave us an odd look. Tali seemed like she was in mourning, such that she cannot reply. So I decide to reply for her.
"I think we know why she might have been killed, officer," I said.
"So did our detective," replied the turian. "He was following a lead on Saren Aertius when Dr. Michel contacted him about a quarian that had information about Saren that he could use. Personally, I think he's chasing after a wild goose, but... he insisted on seeing this case to the end. He met up with an Alliance lieutenant and her gang, and they're off in Chora's Den investigating the cause." Ah, so this is a FemShepard here. Sweet! I'm so going to play matchmaker with her and Thane when ME2 rolls around. "And yet... why do you say you know why she was killed?"
NR: Planning on playing matchmaker with Shepard and Thane? Wow. Our hero, being a total creep. TLoA: Wow! I just learned a woman was murdered, but who cares?! Shipping!
"I... I was the quarian Dr. Michel was talking about!" exclaimed Tali suddenly.
At this, the turian regarded us with surprise. "So you're still alive," he said. "Our detective told us he doubted you were all right. And yet you're still breathing! He'll be overjoyed to hear this! Do you have any comments you might want to share about that?"
NR: Ugh, the corny dialogue. Again. I can't even say "And yet you're still breathing!" without groaning. TLoA: Strap in cause I think we are going to see more heavy handed dialogue.
"Not exactly," she says. "Do you know where the detective is?"
"He should still be in Chora's Den," replies the officer. "They met up with a krogan we were detaining before they left for there, though, so go there and you should still be able to catch them. When you get a chance, tell the detective what happened that you're still alive now, as that will fall under his report, not mine."
I rose an eyebrow, a little confused at this. "Wait wait wait wait wait," I say, gesturing with my hands. "If you're documenting the murder and this is related to that, why do we have to go to him?"
"We'll merge the reports later," he replies. "You should get going. Detective Vakarian won't be sitting in Chora's Den much longer.
I nodded, turning to Tali. "All right," I say, facing the turian one last time. "Thank you, officer." Looking to Tali, I gesture. "Come on! To Chora's Den!"
We both ran over to Chora's Den as quickly as we were able to.
NR: Where do C-Sec hire these people? Why weren't Tali and Art held for questioning because, I don't know, they're witnesses? God, this is dumb! TLoA: You don't say?
We're both back in front of the circular club, and the first thing we notice is that the bouncers are unconscious. Seeing this, we both run up to the door to Chora's Den.
Oh God... All this running... Out of breath...
"Art, are you all right?" asks Tali.
I nod between breaths. "Yeah," I manage to wheeze out. "It's been a while since I've run this far, though... Shit, I'm out of shape..."
TLoA: And yet he thinks that, somehow, Shepard would want an out of shape violinist on the team. NR: And the fate of the galaxy will rest on him too. They are so screwed. TLoA: Also, the bouncers are unconscious? It has been a while since I played ME, but I'm pretty sure Shep and co. shot that place the fuck up.
"You're certainly in better shape than you think you are if you were able to stuff yourself in that tiny crate," points out Tali.
I shrug, looking at the bouncers. "Good point," I say, catching my breath with my hands on my knees. "Okay, we're here. Next question, how do we get in?"
Tali looks at me briefly before the orange glow surrounds her hand again. She types something on her Omni Tool, and then the door to Chora's Den opens with very little resistance.
When the door opens, we find a bunch of people lying there dead. Holy shit! I jump back, bringing a knuckle to my mouth as I do so. Shit... A lot of death happened here.
Wow. Shepard's enemies do have a very high probability of dying...
NR: You just killed someone! You literally shot someone and you don't find it a big deal. TLoA: Yeah, but that was an alien. NR: There are also aliens in Chora's Den! TLoA: No, shut up, though.
"Shit... Well, looks like Detective Vakarian left a lot of damage in his wake," I say. "You don't fuck with him indeed..." Especially so since he survives a missile to the face in the sequel. Now that's awesome.
"He's probably still in here," says Tali. "Let's find him before he disappears on us."
I nod, and the two of us enter the circular bar. We see the line of bodies around the den, all with bullet holes in them. I shudder, thinking about what must have transpired there. I look around, wondering had happened here. It was obvious, but still, I was curious as to exactly how Shepard did it. Must have been a hell of a time.
NR: And again, he's like, "Eh, people dying? Whatever." TLoA: "You don't fuck with him indeed" is a statement that is made when someone tells you beforehand that you don't fuck with him, which no one did.
We walk around the circular bar, and eventually we hear the sound of gunfire from behind a few doors.
"Oh?" I say, looking around. "Are you hearing what I'm hearing?"
NR: Let's do this! LEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOY! JEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIIINSSSSSSSSSSSS! TLoA: He is really enthusiastic to go to a combat zone.
Tali and I both walk over to the hallway, looking inside to find more dead guards. As we walked, Tali gave me a look, looking back at the bodies. It's uneasy in here. They're all... dead... It's like Rambo ran straight through here and tore the place up. Sylvester Stallone in the future? I'd totally buy it.
"Wow, there are a lot of dead people here..." she notes.
Feeling a chill run down my spine, I nodded in agreement. "Yeah, there are," I say. "It's... a little unnerving, honestly."
TLoA: He is remarkably calm for seeing a bunch of shot up corpses. Personally, I'd be vomiting all over the place. NR: Me, I'll just be like "What the fuck" over and over. Mouth open and all. TLoA: Point is, most people are not this calm seeing death. NR: To paraphrase Zaeed, the only people who don't flinch are either trained killers or psychopaths. TLoA: Which Art isn't either. ...I hope.
Tali gives me a look behind her face mask that I can hardly read well. "I take it this is another thing that musicians can't exactly take?"
I shrug. That's true, but... "Not like it makes a difference," I reply. "After all, I do have an imagination that's either sick or demented in some way or another. Like, I'm thinking how badly Fist will burn when he winds up in the eighth bolgia of the eighth circle of hell. Also, how much flowery language will be needed to make it seem almost humanistic. Or wait, he might freeze at the bottom of hell... Hm... What would be his sin...?"
I can feel the confusion behind her glance. There is silence as we draw closer to the gunfire.
"Uh... Inferno reference," I say. "Dante? Human poet from the 1300's?"
Tali shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know any of the human poets," she replies. "Or the human composers. I have lived on the flotilla all my life..."
I shrug, an expression gracing my face that clearly told her of my displeasure. "Oh, dear," I say. "We'll have to rectify that."
"On your end as well," replies Tali. "I doubt you know the quarian equivalents..."
Okay, now here is something I can be completely honest with. All these races have to have a culture somewhere, yet all we know about the quarians are that they have their Pilgrimage as a rite of passage, and that they never think of themselves all that often because their race is living in a bunch of space ships. But I'm pretty sure that the Mass Effect universe didn't go into the proper culture.
Ah, well.
"You've got that right," I say, chuckling. "We'll both have to do that once all this happens."
Tali nods in agreement. "I look forward to it," she says.
NR: Wow, even the sudden silence demonstrated how stupid that is. TLoA: Fun fact: The Divine Comedy was the original self-insert fanfiction. NR: Oh, I know. This just makes it even funnier.
Before I can reply, the sound of gunfire abruptly stops. We're halfway down the hallway, and we turn to each other.
"Huh, I guess either they got Fist or they reached an agreement..." I say.
"I'm personally hoping it is the former," replies Tali.
I shake my head. "Nah," I say. "He probably thinks you're dead by now. It'll be much better if they reach an agreement so that we can rub his loss in his face."
Tali's vision came right on me. "You're sadistic, I'll give you that much," she says. "Remind me never to ask how you would torture someone..."
NR: Thank you, Tali. TLoA: Tali is best waifu. NR: But whose?
And we just stand there, waiting for something to happen. Tugging on my jacket, I cross my arms as Tali does the same, a pistol in one of her hands. Eventually, we hear the sound of a door whooshing open.
"-if you try anything funny, you're a dead man."
Ah, Wrex. Good to hear you again.
"Of course, of course," says a different voice. "I'll get you to it and-"
Cue the opening of the door. Tali and I just stand there, and I see two women, two men, Wrex, and a turian. All right, darker skin, black hair, that's Ash. The guy who looks sort of like an Asian is Alenko... Damn, he's taller than I thought he'd be... The turian is Garrus, as evidenced by the blue facepaint, and the female... is a female Shepard with dark red hair that falls down her head. Also complete with green eyes. Uh huh. Yep, this is definitely gonna be fun once ME2 rolls around.
Nord Ronnoc groans. TLoA: I want this Shepard to be a surly Irish woman who just yells flowery insults at people just to fuck with Art's expectations.
The only man I do not completely recognize jumps at seeing us there, and even more so upon seeing Tali. I assume he's Fist. He lets out a short squeal as the others look at him.
"Hello, Fist," intones Tali, her accent hiding a trace of smugness. "I'm sure you recognize me..."
"W... W-w-what...?" asks the human, an absolutely flabberghasted look adorning his features as he speaks. "How...?"
Same thing I asked myself when I got here. "Thanks to myself."
All eyes are on me. Oh... oh shit... They're all looking at me...
NR: TLoA: You had one chance, but you fucked it up somehow.
"Actually, I think I did the same thing to a krogan earlier," I say, indicating Wrex. "I believe you were talking about how Fist betrayed the Shadow Broker?"
If Wrex is surprised, he doesn't show it at all. Good boy. "I was... actually..." he said. "Actually, thinking back, your clothing does look a little familiar..."
I shrug, Tali uncrossing her arms as I do the same. "So it seems your plan to kill me failed," she said.
"But... but this is insanity!" he says. "Nothing... This is... How...?"
NR: This is not helping your case, Art. TLoA: "It's almost like this is some bad fanfic!"
"One word too many on your count," I say, shrugging. "You know what they say. What comes around goes around. Now... uh... Your name, krogan?"
"Urdnot Wrex," he replies. Good, wouldn't want to seem like I know too much.
"All right, Urdnot," I say, getting a scornful look from him. I glance at him, and shrug, knowing he'll probably explain it later. (Not like he'll need to, but I'm just playing along here.) "I believe you've got a contract to fulfill?"
He nods, bringing a shotgun out.
Oh no. This is gonna be messy. I can't help but cringe a little bit, knowing that whatever happens next is not going to be very pretty at all.
"Wait, are you-?" begins Kaidan.
"Of course," says Wrex, pulling the shotgun and Fist. "Thank you for reminding me."
"N-no!" shouts Fist as he is grabbed and dragged out. The human has no time to react as the krogan throws him down on the floor, cocking his shotgun. There is no further warning before he fires it at the human, blood plastering the walls behind the human as I cringe. Wow, I am not going to be able to unsee that... It's just so gory. It's definitely a lot worse than it seems in the movies, and especially in the game... Ugh...
NR: Let that image burn in your head, Art. You brought it on yourself. TLoA: And there is Art feigning ignorance of the ME lore by calling Wrex by his family name rather than his given name. Because reasons. NR: Like less so than the average person in the ME universe.
Before I get any more time to think about it, Ashley and Kaidan have both drawn their weapons. "Put the gun down, krogan!" shouts Ashley.
Without dropping his firearm, Wrex replies in kind. "The Shadow Broker gave me a job," he replies. "I don't like to leave jobs unfinished."
"But still..." says Kaidan.
I jump to Wrex's rescue. "He was useless anyways since 'the quarian' is still alive," I point out. "Besides, I bet it'll be fun watching him squirm in the ice at the bottom of hell... And then watching as Dante kicks his face a couple of times."
I'm given incredibly odd looks over this. All right, I think something got percieved as out of the ordinary.
"All right, you definitely have a demented imagination," says Tali.
NR: Speaking of Jennifer Hale, she went to a local gaming con in my state back in July. She's awesome and cool. And I was kinda awkward. TLoA: Jennifer Hale is the greatest. Hearing her voice in anything makes me happy. NR: I even got a picture with me, her, and my brother in it! And a voicemail message. Cool, huh? TLoA: Yep.
"Either way, I'm glad you at least managed to save the quarian," says Garrus. "I was worried about losing my lead."
I nod, looking at the turian. "So you're Detective Vakarian," I say. "We ran into your buddies from C-Sec when we went to check on Dr. Michel. They directed us to you about the evidence since you're looking for a lead on Saren."
TLoA: "I'm not! Look at all the pretty blood staining the walls!"
Nodding, we slowly exit the building. A thought suddenly occurs to me as we move along, and I turn to the commander. "Say," I say, nervously. "What about introductions?"
"We'll get to those in a second," says Kaidan.
"Or we could just do them on our way there," replies Shepard. "It'll save a little time if you to get moving quickly."
Yeah, that's not happening. At least, not if I can help it. "Actually, I've got quite a dilemma that's led me to a realization that I want to talk to someone about once we get this whole Saren business settled," I reply with a shrug. "That said, I think it's a better idea to get them out of the way now."
"Then let's get started," says Shepard as we move along.
NR: Awkward dialogue, ho! TLoA: Is it so hard to write natural sounding dialogue? I mean, I'm an amateur writer and this feels unnatural.
All right. I wonder if these guys have noticed that suddenly I'm bright and breezy because of all the beautiful and new things I'm learning about them. Most likely day by day.
NR: What the fuck is this? What kind of a paragraph is that? TLoA: Why the fuck are you asking me?! NR: I don't know. What part of… this… how does this make any sense?! Once again, it's like the author never bothered to revise or edit. TLoA: We need to find Tommy Wiseau to help interpret half this story.
We arrive at the councillor's office sometime later. Two dark skinned people are waiting, and one of them is clearly not pleased. And there's Udina. I don't like him all that much, honestly, because he's a squabbling politician like the rest. Never trust squabbling politicians to run anything, especially if that whole health care bit that had taken over Washington was any indication. Standing to the side is Anderson. Oh, sweet! I get to talk to the Shadow Man, who hopefully won't turn me into a frog.
NR: Wait, Shadow Man? Nord Ronnoc looks it up. NR: Oh. The Princess and the Frog. TLoA: Phew. For a moment, I thought we were going into some racist territory for a second.
"Shepard, there you are!" he says, his tone obviously angered at something we did. "I have much to discuss with you! What is the matter with you? You go around the citadel, tear up Chora's Den, and fail to save a doctor! Do you have any idea-"
And then he notices Tali and I standing there with our arms crossed. "What's this? A quarian and what I would assume to be an earth-born?" he asks.
"Believe it, sir," is my concise and rather snarky reply. "I've got a rather crazy story behind myself. As for Tali, she's got intel on Saren. Intel I think you'd like to check out."
"Oh?" asks the ambassador. "And what are you doing here? Earth-borns aren't allowed in Citadel offices, and yet-!"
NR: Earthborns aren't allowed? David Anderson's born on London. Earthborn. Shepard's potential Earthborn, you get the idea. TLoA: I don't think the author cares. Also, why the fuck would he go "Yeah, my backstory is pretty interesting. Bet you'd like to know it, huh?" Wouldn't be better to hold onto it until someone asks you about it? NR: It's almost like the author wants to show off.
"With all due respect, sir, he did save the quarian's life," says Shepard. Thank you, Shepard! It'll make my favor a little easier to ask later. "He has just as much of a right to be here as the rest of us."
"Besides, it's not entirely my fault I'm here," I add. "And it's not like I have anything else to do." All right, cover story, launch!
"See, around a week ago, me and some friends on Earth were messing around, and somehow I got really high on stimulants and other things," I say. "Trust me, I don't know what I was thinking either. I don't know exactly what happened, but I think I must have stowed away on a cruiser or something, because next thing I know I'm passed out in an alleyway in the Citadel with most of my belongings taken away except for a few items that could be considered family heirlooms. I don't think I got enough to head back to Earth from selling a wallet, though, so I got stuck here. Then today I eavesdropped on a bouncer at Chora's Den and Tali here, and before I know it I'm involved in all of this. So... yeah."
NR: And take it from me, a guy who has never tried drugs before. TLoA: ...That's his cover story? That is so needlessly detailed. Seriously, black out drunk would have been a better answer. Also, they didn't fucking ask, Art. You are jumping the gun! NR: "By the way, we know you're an inserter." "What, how did you know?!" "You quoted Dante." TLoA: Aw, man. I think we know who the Captain America of the self-insert cinematic universe is!
Udina nodded. "I thought stimulants were illegal on Earth," he says.
NR: "Thank you for telling me this totally believable and not-so-elaborate backstory." TLoA: Again, black out drunk would have saved you from these sorts of questions.
I shrug. They're still banning drugs in the future? When will these hotshots ever learn? "Just because they're illegal doesn't mean you can't get your hands on some," I say.
NR: And take it from me, a guy who has never did drugs before. TLoA: When will they learn? I don't know, maybe when people stop injecting shit made from motor oil. Maybe that's when, your Insertfulness.
"By now, though, I think they're out of my system, so here I am. But we're getting off topic. Tali, I believe you had evidence to show us?"
"Ah. Of course," she says, her hand glowing orange yet again as her omni tool comes to life. She types a few things on it, scanning around.
"How did you get the data?" asks Shepard.
"I preserved it from a geth's memory core," replies Tali. "When I heard that the geth had moved beyond the Perseus Veil, I was curious. I tracked a geth patrol to an uncharted area and salvaged its memory core."
TLoA: Maybe the topic wouldn't have gotten off the rails if you didn't go into your made-up backstory unprompted. Would have saved some time is all I'm saying.
This raises some eyebrows. Mine raises a half second after everyone else, but if they notice, they don't say anything. "How do you do that?" asks Kaidan. "I thought geth memory cores erased their data when a geth died?"
NR: They're onto you, your Insertfulness. Quick, lie harder!
"My people created the geth," Tali is quick to point out. "If you are fast and careful, you can preserve a small portion of a geth's memory just before it wipes itself clean. This geth had most of its memory wiped clean, but I was able to salvage something from its audio banks... here we are."
And with this, we hear the sound of air particles bouncing around.
NR: And take it from me, a guy who has never done archeology before. TLoA: How is he not drawing skepticism?
Ashley gives me a glance that successfully gets me to shut up. Shit, I didn't think she could glare at me like that to make me all unnerved. Then again, this is real life now and not a game, so yeah...
NR: Art's also surprised? TLoA: "Why is he working with Colonel Sanders?! That wasn't in the game!" "Game?" "I... uh... I DID THE DRUGS!"
"And one step closer to the return of the Reapers."
That would be Matriarch Benezia. I'm not going to say anything yet though, because that would give stuff away. Damn, there's a lot of stuff I'll be thinking about when I see events unfold. It's just... insane...
NR: Yeah, and he'll just sit on his ass while the Collectors attack Shepard and the Normandy for... reasons. TLoA: Again, we'd have a shorter story if he didn't do that so yeah... NR: I'm actually not kidding about this one. TLoA: Oh, I know.
"And just what are the reapers?" asks Ashley, crossing her arms.
Tali seemed to acknowledge this, and going through her omni tool, she read a few things. "According to the geth's memory core, the Reapers were a hyper-advanced machine race that existed 50,000 years ago," she explains. "The Reapers hunted the Protheans to total extinction and then they vanished."
Shepard slowly brings a hand to her head, her fingers just resting over her temples as she ponders something.
"Seems a little far-fetched," points out Udina.
Oh, boy. The skeptic is gonna be proven wrong on waaaaay too many accounts now that he's said that. You'd think a boy coming in from another universe would be far-fetched. You might not know that it's what really happened, but trust me, if I'm here, the Reapers exist.
TLoA: Yeah, it is easy to act smug when you know what's going to happen. NR: Add smugness to the rest of reasons why the Designated Hero trope fits Art well.
"The vision I had on Eden Prime..." says Shepard suddenly. "I think I understand it now. I saw the Protheans being wiped out by the Reapers."
"The geth revere the Reapers as gods," Tali replies. "They believe Saren knows how to bring them back. It would explain why he would use them..."
Udina shakes his head, a hand covering his face. "The Council is going to love this," he says sarcastically.
"They're also going to love the whole bit about Saren," I point out.
TLoA: Is Art just here to throw in quips into cutscenes? 'Cause that seems like the case so far.
"Either way, they need to hear this," adds Shepard. "It proves that Saren is a traitor to the Citadel."
The councillor seems to really dislike where this is going, but I think he agrees with us on Saren. "You're right," he says. "We need to present this to the council right away."
"And what of the quarian and the earth-born?" asks Anderson, indicating the two of us.
"My name is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," reiterates Tali for the third time since I've known her. "Please, Shepard, I would appreciate it very much if you could take me with you."
Shepard crosses her arms, looking at both of us. "We can't be sure of your combat skills," she says.
NR: Shepard's got a point about Art, y'know. In any other case, Art would be referred to some witness protection program. TLoA: Ha! That's cute that you'd think logic can be applied to a self-insert story. NR: I'm just laying it out here.
I shrug. "Well, when I saved her life, all I really did was provide a distraction that could give her more time to draw her gun and shoot. I only got one guy in as opposed to her two, really," is my reply. "So I think she's a good warrior."
"Hm..." says Shepard, rubbing her chin. "Well, all right. We could use the help against Saren in the future."
Tali seems quite happy at this, bowing politely. "Thank you!" she says. "I'll do my best to assist you!"
NR: Well, at least he made a good case for Tali. TLoA: Credit where credit is due.
"Which leaves the earth-born," adds Udina.
Jeez, what's with this Earth-born thing? I do have a name, you know! Ah, we'll get that out of the way eventually.
"My name is ****** *********," I reply, crossing my arms. "And... well, to be honest, I was going to try to find my way to earth, but by now I'm so deeply involved in this whole Saren business I might as well see it to the end."
NR: "Uh... how are you doing that with your mouth?" "What are you talking about? You got my name, right?" "All we heard was that loud beep whenever something's censored." TLoA: He has a point, what is with the Earth-born thing? Do they have a problem with someone coming from the birth place of the human goddamn race? NR: How does Udina know Art's an Earthborn? TLoA: Also, great job on trying to convince Shepard to take you. 10/10. Would bullshit my way through again.
Ashley gives me an odd look. "According to what you've told us so far, you have no military training, are a little out of shape, and used your first firearm barely two hours ago," she replies. "What can you show us to show that you can get in shape fast enough to help?"
TLoA: SHE HAS A GODDAMN POINT. NR: I know, right? TLoA: Let's see how Art Mary Sues his way through this one.
"I don't have anything," I say, shaking my head. "But sooner or later Saren's going to find out that I helped you guys out. And I don't know if he'll have time or not, but he'll probably be coming for me when he does. I don't think I could stand up to Saren in my current state, and I'm one of a very small amount of people that knows the specifics of all this..."
"Protection..." mutters Kaidan. "He's got a point Shepard."
NR: If Art needs protection, again, witness protection. TLoA: The ambassador is right there! He can't offer anything?! Anything at all?! NR: Nope.
"That he does," comments the commander. "But we can always take you on as a non-ground unit. You don't have to go down and fight things with us."
Well... "I don't want that, though," I reply, shaking my head. "You guys are going off to do great things, I can tell. I know I can't exactly do much right at this moment, but this sounds like an opportunity that's too incredible to pass up. And... I don't know, ma'am. But I'd like to help you guys any way I can, and I don't think sitting on a ship waiting for you to come back is going to do it. I'll work as hard as I have to to make sure I can help you out if you take me on, you have my word on that."
TLoA: "I want to come!" "Why should we let you?" "Because I want to come along!" "That isn't a good reason." "You don't understand. I REALLY want to come! That means you have to!"
"Sounds like he really wants to help," says Garrus.
"He doesn't have combat training," reiterates Ash as she crosses her arms. "But he's got a strong will Commander."
"Yes, that he does..." says Shepard. She pauses then, looking at me intently. Okay... she's scrutinizing me now. This is a little unsettling, but hey, what can I do? Finally, she straightens up, nodding. Oh... that's a good sign.
"Very well," she says. "We'll take you on the team and have the Normandy's physician do a physical on you so we can gauge how long you have until we can let you onto the battlefield."
I nod, bowing politely. "Thank you," I say. "I'll work very hard to make sure you don't regret that decision."
NR: This will be the biggest mistake Shepard has ever made. TLoA: And a really illogical one. NR: Even Liara in ME makes more sense. TLoA: Liara had the excuse of being a natural space wizard. NR: She's not a Warlock from Destiny. And she was in danger, and Benezia's daughter. TLoA: Art just has "I really want to go through because that sounds cool." NR: That sounds suspiciously like Conrad. It's like the developers are making a point about him.
Anderson nods at this, looking at all of us. "We shouldn't delay any longer," he says. "We should take this evidence to the Council!"
"My thoughts exactly," replies Shepard. "Come on; let's go to the council."
Nodding, we all walk out of the ambassador's office.
All right, I'm part of the Mass Effect crew right now! Sweetness! I get the terrible feeling I'll be the worst member of the squad, but we'll see how things turn out. Right now, I can imagine Chakwas going through with me and seeing what is going down with my physical health. It'll also be interesting to see what the crew does when they're not standing in one place waiting for you to go talk with them. And also, what do we do when we try to get some sleep?
Ah, well. Right now, it's just me, Wrex, Ashley, Kaidan, and Garrus waiting around the elevators to the council. Tali and Shepard went up with Anderson and Udina to present their evidence.
NR: "Stop elbowing me!" "I did not!" "Who farted?" "It was me." "WREX!" TLoA: I imagine it would be a lot more awkward and quiet.
Garrus crosses his arms. "So, Art," he says, crossing his arms. "I take it this is all surreal for you, seeing as how you were born on earth and your trip on the Citadel ended with you joining the hunt for a Specter."
NR: I don't think that's how Garrus speaks. At all. TLoA: Oh yeah, that is not something Garrus would say. He'd probably stop after "surreal for you." NR: I don't think the author has grasped how each character talks.
For once, I can indulge in the truth. "You have no idea," I say, shaking my head. "This is quite a transition from being a musician..."
"I can imagine," says Kaidan, shrugging as I look out at the view of the Citadel. "Since you're a musician... what did you do before you came here?"
Looking back, I nod. "I was primarily a composer," I say, shrugging. "I wrote stuff. And on the side, I also played the viola." I better not mention my musical taste. Not until I can tell which composers the two universes share in common. I already know that Carl Nielsen is here thanks to that conversation after Miranda's loyalty mission in the second game, and I'm pretty sure Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven are here, as I heard excerpts of Beethoven and Mozart works in a few vid advertisements. We'll have to see.
"So you wrote and played," replies Kaidan, interest lacing his voice. "Interesting...
NR: Wait till they start asking about his family. He'll be screwed as they look up the records (or lack thereof). Or where he was born, etc. TLoA: So just to reiterate, the squad is comprised of three Alliance soldiers, a Turian detective, a Krogan mercenary, a Quarian engineer that naturally knows about how the Geth work, and an out of shape musician. One of these things are not like the others~. NR: He'll be dead in the first five seconds of combat.
"It's pretty crazy, actually," I say, shrugging. "I'm actually kind of interested to see what the music scene is like over here. I bet it's interesting, given that there are also chances to hear the music of other races... That said, I wonder if krogan have any music. It would be... interesting, to say the least..."
Wrex gives me an odd look. "We used to," he replies. "But now, things have... changed."
He's a bit monotone in his reply, but I can sense the depression in his voice. Nodding, I look at him. "I see..." I say. "It's a real shame that... I've heard about the genophage and all that, and... Well, I honestly never thought I'd ever meet a krogan to say this to, but... I hope someone can reverse it."
Wrex nods his head, scarlet eyes looking at me. "We don't need your condolences," he says. "But thanks. It's good to know that some peope sympathize with our race."
NR: I think while curing the genophage in ME3 with Wrex around is a good option, but I honestly think Art's being a little naive. The krogans went out with galactical conquest after taking care of the rachni, remember? TLoA: But the babies were probably cute, though. NR: Hm, you got a point.
I nod in reply, thining about the Normandy. Well, being aboard the Normandy will be fun. A turian, a quarian, a krogan, and four humans. That'll be interesting, to say the least. Especially when we throw the asari into the mix. Hoo, boy. Talk about being a ragtag bunch of misfits... Especially since we have a former C-Sec officer, three soldiers, a mercenary, a mechanic, a musician, and a scientist all working together to bring down Saren Aertius.
TLoA: One of these just doesn't belong~ NR: Again, three Alliance soldiers, a turian C-Sec detective, a krogan mercenary, a quarian engineer who knows a lot about the geth, and an out-of-shape musician. You do the math.
We continue the conversation, but my mind can't wander away from that little bit. This really is a very interesting squad. And for my money, I honestly can't wait until we get back to the ship. That's when the real fun will begin.
TLoA: Ah, yes. "Fun." Like the mind controlling fungus, or the Rachni reenacting Aliens, or the genocidal Mecha-Cthulhus, or the cyber zombies. All wacky good times in the Mass Effect universe! NR: Our hero will not be traumatized at all.
NR: Wow, I am so glad this chapter's done. And it's long and it sucks! TLoA: I've said it before and i'll say it again, this is going to be a slog. This chapter was easy to riff of at the beginning but as it dragged on more and more of it was just... there. Nothing really worthwhile to comment on. NR: And the next chapter, Elgar: Introduction and Allegro, is about as long. Again with the name of songs as chapter titles. TLoA: I believe my feelings on the matter have been discussed. NR: Yeah. Join us for the next chapter next time!
NR: Hello, and welcome back to the riff on Mass Vexations. And it was N7 Day! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Ten years. It has been ten years since the release of the first Mass Effect game. TLoA: Indeed it was. Hence why we are dragging this riffing back from the premature death it had to celebrate it! NR: Plus, we got a neat thing in form of its own version of Dragon Age Keep, with its own artwork that looks rather good, in addition to a retrospective video and some fan art. Anyway, we're on the second chapter. What's it called again? TLoA: Fuck if I know. Does it matter? Do we care? Probably not. NR: But let's get on down! But first things first, we'll be summarizing the more... boring parts of these fics because good god, the chapters are long. Really long, if you haven't figured it out yet. Either that, or you're here for the first time reading this post. TLoA: And hopefully you all will stick around so we can put food on our tables. Please.
Previously, on Mass Vexations 1…
Neckbeard Idiotic Asshole sat on his ass in Chora's Den. He overheard a conversation between Wrex and a bouncer, then a difference bouncer and Tali. He procured a pipe and somehow calls it a crowbar, and waltz in, hoping to save Tali. Against all odds, he succeeded and got a spot on the Normandy.
TLoA: Okay, so in a proper fanfic, author notes are suppose to say something about the current chapter. Not "Yeah here's another one I guess." NR: He doesn't have to. And that's not including the pretty long ones about rants unrelated to the fic.
"Getting to know you, getting to feel free and easy,
When I am with you, getting to know what to say,
Haven't you noticed suddenly I'm bright and breezy?
Because of all the beautiful and new Things I'm learning about you,
Day by day!"
NR: So that's what the SI's saying in the previous chapter?! It would be so much easier if you say it like, "Like a poem..." or whatever. TLoA: Hooray for vaguely important sounding quotes.
Art and the others are by the Normandy, as Shepard convinced the Council to get them to pursue Saren. As Anderson talked to Shepard, Art was in awe of the Normandy. Problem is...
At least, it would be if everything wasn't so god damn blurry from here. Fuck my nearsightedness. The biggest reason I was able to make stuff out was because of color. I can still detect color. But when something is about two feet away from me, it comes out a little blurry. That's my eyesight in a nutshell. I hope Chakwas has an easy fix to that, but it'll have to wait for other things to happen before I attend to that. And yes, I was wearing glasses, but I think I must have lost them somewhere, because I don't know where the hell they are.
TLoA: Again, why do you want to risk your life on this? You clearly know you aren't cut for this.
So they get in the airlock, and Art realized he talked like he was married to Tali, saying the Normandy would be their new home for a while. And Tali was pretty cheerful about it.
"I just hope that we'll be able to get Saren somehow," says Garrus, shaking his head behind me. "He is giving turians a bad name as we speak, I bet."
I nod, crossing my arms and looking at him. I give him a smile. "Don't worry, Detective Vakarian. We'll get him," I say. "And we'll make him pay."
I say it to lift his spirits. But also, because it will happen. I left out the part where we can talk him into committing suicide, but hey, you make do with what you've got.
He nods. "Why so formal, though?" he asks.
I roll my eyes as the air lock opens, and we all enter. "Well, you do have to admit, it's got a ring to it," I say. "Detective Vakarian. Perfectly tinny sort of phrase, in a good way. Detective Vakarian... Detective Vakarian... Why is it all those kinds of titles tend to make words that ring?"
"Better question," says Ashley, crossing her arms. "Why do you even care how much ring is in a name and title?"
I give her a confused glance. "Because I'm a musician and I like sound?" I ask, shrugging.
She rolls her eyes once before uncrossing her arms. "If you want to put it like that," she says, annoyance creeping in her voice as we exit the airlock. "But I really don't want to hear about it."
I raise an eyebrow at this. "I'm annoying you with my constant monologuing, aren't I?" I asked.
"Yes," she says simply. We leave the conversation at this as she walks off.
TLoA: Every time he brings up that he is a musician someone should go "And what practical skills do you have that will help us?" NR: Besides, the SI is so pretentious that even upper-class snobs from Broadway looks down on him and think, "Jeez, this guy should turn it down a notch." That's how pretentious he comes off as.
While Art suspected Kaidan was getting suspicious about him (and a condescending snide in a brief monologue because why not), Wrex remarked he got along with other species really well and Garrus commented that he had some odd friends back on Earth.
At this, I can't help but burst out laughing. It's a brief spell, though, and then all of the others are looking oddly at me. "I'm a bit wacky myself," I admit. "But I always tend to make friends with people that are either older than I am or that are exceedingly... different from what most humans my age are accustomed to."
"I can see a nice, healthy blend of both as it stands," says Tali, glancing briefly at the turian and the krogan.
NR: So how about doing a drinking contest on the awkward dialogue? Anyone? Nord Ronnoc sees a complete stranger passed out and shit-faced drunk. NR: That bad, huh? TheLordofAwesome pokes the stranger with a stick. TLoA: …This fucker is dead. NR: Oh shit. TLoA: Meh, he had it coming. NR: I'm not so sure. Should we call 911?
That somehow lightened up Garrus's mood, and they entered the Normandy. Our hero had proved more and more that the SI is a psychopath or something.
Okay, it's harder than it looks. Jeez, why can't the SSV Normandy and the Normandy SR-2 be similar? Okay, I officially can't wait for the sequel to come around...
But... I think I'm close to the med bay nevertheless. I see an older woman with short blonde hair outside, looking around. Ah, she's rather attractive...
And I'm sizing up someone who's very much older than me. Squick ensues.
NR: And remember: kinkshaming is bad. TLoA: He acts like that's a problem. NR: Chakwas may have blond hair in her youth, but since she's old, she has old people hair.
They introduced themselves and they get ahead to talk about the physical, only for Chakwas to remark:
"That she did," replies the doctor. "It is so odd that someone with no military training would boad this ship, I should think."
"Yeah, well, I'd rather find out what the whole deal is with this than have one of the galaxy's finest trained soldiers hunting me because I got myself involved in something," I say with a dismissive hand wave. That, and I won't have any purpose here otherwise.
TLoA: "And why are you here, putting yourself in harm's way?" NR: "Uh... because.... I wanna live out my fantasies?" TLoA: Maybe he should have wrote a SI Familiar of Zero fanfic. 'Cause at that point he'd have a legit reason for putting himself in danger.
So Neckbeard and Dr. Chakwas entered the med bay and they started off with measurements, namely his height and weight. While he was forthcoming with that, he expressed his "slight" insecurities of his weight, wanting to change that soon. Next, he told her that he was nearsighted. Chakwas asked why he hadn't gotten it corrected, with Art saying he didn't see the need to, wearing glasses before winding up in the Citadel. Feeling more comfortable, further answers reveal that the SI was able to put one of his legs behind his neck, had a red belt in Tae Kwon Do, had a two-year run in track (heh, get it?), and the worst illness he got was a bad cold.
She nods, looking at the datapad. "Ever done drugs?" she asks. "Alcohol?"
Oh, dear. "I did a hell of a lot of stimulants to get onto the Citadel," I say. "Alcohol, I've used a few times. Usually lighter faire, though, and never enough to make me not remember what I did the previous night. Other than that, nothing."
She nods, typing away on the datapad. She mutters a few things as she fills in some last blanks. "Age?" she asks.
"Nineteen," I reply. "Going on twenty pretty soon."
At this, she jerks slightly, and looks up from the datapad. "You're only nineteen and you tried stimulants?" she asked.
I shrug. "Again, I don't know what the hell I was thinking," I say. "Blame it on me being naive..."
"Still, that is worrisome," she said, shrugging. "You might get into an addiction later in life."
Rolling my eyes, I snort derisively. "As if," I say. "Music is my drug; if I'm bored, I just hum a random orchestral piece. Hell, you know what the worst part about real life is? It's that there's no incidental music playing in the background!"
I say the last sentence in such an upbeat and over-dramatized manner that her mood goes from sour to jolly as she snorts, trying poorly to hide her laughter. I smile at this. Yay, an attempt at being funny that someone actually found funny!
When she calms down, she smiles at me. "If you say so," she says. "Still, I would advise you to be careful around stimulants."
NR: And take it from him, who has never taken drugs in his life. TLoA: So he's had alcohol but his go to excuse was that he took drugs? The things he has admitted having never done. NR: At least our sense of humor is better than his. TLoA: And I writing these while both very tired and very depressed! Like, legit IRL depressed. And then there is the crippling loneliness issues that are the source of my depression... Nord Ronnoc gives TheLordofAwesome a pat on the back. NR: It'll be alright. I'm really sorry about what you're going through. TLoA: …Anyway, let's get back to the shitty fanfic we don't give a fuck about.
Chakwas led Douche to another room, where an MRI-like machine would read his vital signs and health, which made him pretty excited. So he crawled in and let Chakwas do her work. A bit of time had passed and in came the results.
"Better than I expected," she says. "You should be able to get in shape following a strict excercise regimen that we should start today. If we get started now, you might only have to sit out of one mission before you can be useful to the team."
I rose an eyebrow, knowing what this meant. "Really?" I ask. "I was expecting more than that..."
"So was I, I'll admit," replies Chakwas, looking at the data pad with a smile. "Of course, you will have to go to the gym at least once every day, but I think if you exercise, you can be on a mission sooner."
I nod at this. "I like the idea," I say uncertainly. "I don't know if I'll be able to stick to a schedule, though..."
Chakwas nods supportingly. "I'll remind you every day to do so," she says. "We'll know for sure when you run into trouble in a few combat simulations we have planned for you."
I blink. That wasn't mentioned in the game. But then again, it's probably for the better, as it works out in my favor. "I see," I say. "And also, because I need to learn how to use a firearm..."
She nods. "Shepard will have Ashley attend to that with you," she replies. Oh, goody. I get to hang out with Ashley, who I get the feeling won't like me all that much. Yipee kay yay.
TLoA: Probably because you have no reason to be here. NR: And since when the Normandy had a combat simulator? That stuff is in the Pinnacle Station and the Armax Arsenal Arena on the Citadel. Oh, so the Normandy also has a gym, according to the fic. What, did the Normandy turn into a TARDIS all the sudden? TLoA: Reasons. NR: …Fine.
Later, Mr. Artiste-wannabe goes down in the gym, agreeing with Yahtzee from Zero Punctuation about the monochrome design of futuristic ships. And he went on a monologue about some person named Dr. Kren, comparing them to Chuck Norris. And he started exercising with Shepard, eventually with her letting him call her Commander, which excited him.
NR: Hmm, monochrome design.
TLoA: Yay for needless pop culture reference in fanfiction. Yaaay. NR: "Welcome t' th' future! Hope y'like chrome." What? I do pop cultural references, too! TLoA: Yeah, but here it's done badly. Not that I should judge or anything…
With this she leaves. I hesitate at the menu I'm on, thinking about how Shepard must be to her friends. If what I just witnessed was any indication, we'll be fine. She definitely likes to check up on her crew, just like we can make her do in the games. It's fun, honestly. Nevertheless, I have no attraction to her. I mean, I'm way younger than she is! Probably not enough squickiness to match up to Dr. Chakwas, but still...
Wait, why do I always undress people, anyway? Why? What is going on?
Ah, well. At least I think I can be friendly with Shepard. I don't know how she works yet, but she looks like a Paragon Shepard too. Paragon Shepards are always nice. I don't really see a point for Renegade Shepard unless you want to get some of the game's funnier bits, but we'll see how that goes.
I just hope she punched Khalisa al-Jilani on her way here. The bitch deserves it, and it's one of the few renegade interrupts I'll stand behind.
TLoA: Well, at least he doesn't ship the biggest badass in the franchise with himself. So... good job? Nord Ronnoc feebly gives two thumbs up. NR: Yaaaay…?
I did some more exercise before calling it a day, hitting the showers as soon as I had finished working out. When I exited, I though I'd go hang out with a few of the crew members before dinner. After thinking a little bit, I thought I should hang out with Tali briefly, as I want to get to know her a little better. True, there's the game, but still, I wish I could get to know her outside of it. After all, her recruitment changed when I showed up, so you never know if she did too.
Ah, well. I... Shit, I just realized I lost the game. Fuck me! Fuck!
NR: Just to yet you all know, I never played the Game. TLoA: Don't bother. It's old hat by now. NR: This fic posted back in 2010. When did the Game get out of fashion? TLoA: I don't know. It was a dumb internet fab.
The SI went down in Engineering to see Tali, and found himself in awe by the drive core. He was then caught in surprise by Tali, thinking she would look more attractive in her ME2 outfit. He remarked the sight of the core would be better for him if not for his near-sightedness. And surprisingly, the author realized that, having to wear masks practically 24/7, quarians would not know the concept of glasses. They moved on the subject of the Pilgrimage, which was pretty much redundant exposition and Art speaking in trope speak ("AI may be a crapshoot"). Art got a little pissy with her about how the quarians were treated nowadays by the Council and the treatment of AIs (or so Nord inteptreted it), also dropping another trope in dialogue {fantastic racism). Despite knowing everything up to ME2. And after that, he left the Engineering to find the rest of the crew.
TLoA: Well, he isn't wrong about Tali's ME2 outfit. NR: But the tropespeak? That is just weird, and I'm a Troper. TLoA: Don't use tropespeak, kids. It's annoying.
I sought out Wrex after that. He seems like a pretty cool guy even if he is a bit brutish. Especially if the badassery he displayed with killing Fist says anything.
I eventally find him looking at the Mako from where we are. Ah, yes, that thing. The object of wrath of many players, the least of who included Yahtzee last I checked. I'm not looking forward to riding that thing if the physics for it really are as trampoline-like as I think they are. We'll have to see...
Meanwhile, there he is. I approach him, and he casts a glance at me with... Oh, god, the glance is creeeeeepyyyyy...
Okay, no time to think about that now.
"Hi, Wrex," I say, nodding. "Hopefully I got the name right this time."
"You did," he confirms, giving me a look on his face that shows he is not all too pleased at me. "Earthborns always tend to be racist like that. Especially young ones."
I frown slightly. "Well, that's hardly fair," I say. "Besides, look who's talking."
Wrex gives me an odd look. "What do you mean?" he asks.
"Well, let me put it this way," I say, gesturing with my hands. "I hear your name is "Urdnot Wrex". The first thing that comes to mind is 'oh, his name must be Urdnot, and his family name is Wrex'. So I assumed something that was totally wrong."
TLoA: Why do you continue with this charade?! NR: Because he is a moron, that's what. "So your name is Wrex?" "Yes. Yours?" "Art." "Art. "Wrex." "Art." "Wre--wait, what's going on?" TLoA: I'm so fucking tired of this story…
He nods. "I guess," he says. "But still... it also has to do with the fact that Shepard let a weakling on her ship."
I give him a sidelong glance, knowing almost as soon as the words leave his mouth that he's talking about me. "I don't like that, but I like it that you're at least telling me head on," I say. "I dunno about you, but I absolutely fuckin' hate it when people talk behind my back about stuff like that."
"You seem like a more sensitive type," he replies. "A thinker. On Tuchanka, that would get you killed."
I shrug, tilting my head to the side for the briefest second. "Well, being sensitive doesn't always make you weak," I say. "I mean, I've never fought in wars, but I think you should give me a little more credit here." After all, I did get Ethan to chop his finger off in Heavy Rain. That was incredibly difficult to watch and it still makes my heart race thinking about that, but I think I can hold my ground. "I mean, I'm one of those people that draws inner strength from thinking a lot. So I'm out of shape and haven't fought in a war before. Okay. I'd rather listen to music than shoot someone. That's fine too. But I can learn to live with myself, and I think that's the most important thing."
He is silent for a brief period of time, and I can't read his expression. Damn krogan expressions being too hard to read! After a bit, he nods.
"Young and naive," he says, crossing his arms. "Life will eventually break you."
I understand where he's coming from. The poor guy killed his own father when a disagreement in views came about. I don't press it, though.
"Not surprising you should say that, seeing as how I'm only 19," I say. "But still, I think it's possible to keep that kind of outlook on life even in extremely old age."
He shakes his head. "Not when you can live to be a thousand years old like I have," he replies. "But then, you probably don't know that either."
"Don't worry, I know about your lifespan," I say. "If I know about the genophage, I at least know something about you guys. But still... Maybe they'll be a way."
He grunts noncommittingly. "Your innocence will be the end of you," he tells me. "Optimism has no place in this galaxy."
I shrug. "We'll have to see," I say. "That, we'll have to see."
He nods, and I launch myself from what I was leaning against. "But just know that I'm not all sunshine and flowers," I say. "I can think of at least twenty ways that I can brutally torture someone, the least of which includes cutting their fingers off with a butcher knife."
This gets Wrex's attention, and he actually emotes a lot more this time. He's silent for at least fifteen seconds before he chooses to reply.
"You're not as innocent as we think," he replies at length, giving me what I can only assume is a nervous glance.
"Yeah," I say. "The world's pretty fucked up, you can't deny that. I just choose not to ignore when something good is found."
He nods as I walk slowly away. "I'm gonna go around a bit," I say. "I'll catch you later, Wrex."
He gives a huff of breath. "I'll see you later, I guess," he says.
Eh, he'll learn to call me by name eventually. I think he's really interesting, honestly. He's all world-weary and all that. I'd really like to talk to him some more, if only to see what he thinks about all that is going on. I might be young and naive, but young and naive can be a good thing.
We'll have to see whether he survives Virmire or not. I really hope he does, 'cause he's too cool to die like that. And if Ash kills him anyway, I'll shoot her in the face.
I walk away, whistling a small Rodgers and Hammerstein tune as I walk away. Oddly enough, it's 16 Going On 17...
TLoA: Art confirmed to wanting to be a team killing fucktard.
So while resting a little at the med bay, he encountered Garrus and asked him what brought him him, though Garrus sarcastically remarked that "Detective Vakarian" had gotten on his nerves, and Art expressed his frustration of people comparing him to Harry Potter in the narration. Garrus, like the others, mentioned his near-sightedness, leaving some readers wonder why the SI was doing here anyway. Then Garrus mentioned District 9...
Wait, what? Are you serious? Sweet Jesus, yes! Niel Blomkamp existed in the Mass Effect universe! Sweet! I'm so happy I almost get the cloth off, but I smile broadly instead. Now I need to find out what that one movie he was making that was supposed to be released in 2011 is and I'll be happy. Actually, I wonder what the rest of his filmography is like...
But that can wait, because one of my favorite movies is in the Mass Effect universe! Yay!
"Hey, that's one of my favorites!" I exclaim.
"You too?" he asks, suddenly seeming quite happy.
"Hell yeah!" I say, raising a hand in a high five gesture. I hope Garrus gets the hint.
And he does, as I feel his talons slap against mine ever so softly. I assume he doesn't want to get the cloth off of my face.
"Turians tend not to like that film," he admitted. "What with those alien creatures being too close to home for us... Especially with an exoskeleton and all. But, they are fictional, so some are able to brush it off. I like it for the last half-hour or so, but also since it's dark."
Aw, the prawns don't exist in this universe. That makes me a sad panda, but at least I still have the movie!
"Oh, it becomes a lot better when you understand the historical context," I add. "That's a product of a really bad period of racism in one small country on the tip of Africa. And when you know some of the things they did in that time... Hoo boy."
"You seem to like talking about old Earth vids," he says.
NR: I'm tempted to say someone should have another drinking contest, this time on characters' dialogue that doesn't match them at all, but… Nord Ronnoc looks at the dead stranger and retches at the flies gathering around the body. NR: You get the idea. TLoA: I don't think Garrus has at any point really expressed interest in human pop culture. So yeah, pretty OOC.
And the next thing we knew, Mr. Glasses guy finally got surgery for his near-sightedness and started wearing sunglasses to alleviate the blurriness. More pointless pop culture references and another name drop of a trope (Big Lipped Alligator Moment) when he mused about ME3's release, and bumping into Kaidan. He asked the SI about Earth, with the SI mentioning he descended from Cuban people.
He rose an eyebrow. "Cuba?" he asks. "You mean Nueva Havana?"
Okay, so Cuba went through a name change? Okay. I knew the Castro brothers had messed it up, but still... "Yeah, that's what I mean," I say. "But my... my ancestors came over from when the Castro brothers took over. It was still called Cuba back then, if memory serves me correctly." Which I'm really hoping it does.
He frowns slightly. Oh dear. I don't like where this conversation is heading. But still, play along, Art. Play along, and it'll be all right... I hope...
"I see..." he says, looking at me inquisitively. "I guess I never knew my Earth history that well."
TLoA: This is why you dodge questions like this, folks. NR: He's onto you, your Stuness. Quick, uh… screw up even more!
So Screw-up here continued the conversation, trying to stave off Kaidan while mentioning his musical interests and his talent in Spanish. Much to his disappointment, he was pretty rusty and not very good at it. And so he settled down on the Normandy. He mentioned Shepard making the speech from the first game where they departed the Citadel, admitting to not looking foward to doing firearms training with Ashley, and lamenting about not doing music. But at least he can do some composing. And so this chapter ended with these lines.
For now, I'm Art, I'm an Earthborn, I never came from another dimension, I was on a stimulant trip, and I was never seen playing with my toys. And I'm still looking for an instrument.
So yeah. It's a new dawn, it's a new day, and I'm feelin' good.
NR: I don't think any of us are feeling well right now.
NR: So that's another long and sucky chapter, plagued with typos across, that introduces the moronic Art to the rest of the crew. Join us for the next chapter! Soon, hopefully.
