log file Kipling0ZPM01
secure connection established to server prospero-core
diagnostic complete: reactor stable, life support offline. Malware detected, commencing system purge. Estimated time to complete 27 hours.
…
anomalous reading detected: human bio-signatures in sector CanyonHeavy02. Notifying the gang.
The piercing shriek of the vibechete cutting through synth flesh died down as Jerome kicked the defunct infiltrator android off the gantry where it tumbled for a short time in the low gravity environment of the massive room that had served as the Canyon Heavy hacker collective’s HQ.
From behind came a few disciplined bursts of smart rifle fire, echoing in the cavernous space. The comm channel crackled: “R0SA how much longer are you and our new friend going to be, running short on bullets…” Andere’s calm voice was interrupted by several dull explosions. “Seems Morgan still has plenty of grenades left though” he concluded.
“In the end, despite all our skill I’m not really sure why we beat Monarch’s assault” said Angus, floating in the zero-g of the rebuilt Canyon Heavy bunker. Idly he rubbed the skin grafts that covered his cryo-burned skin. “It was almost as if the malware programmes lost their integrity and began unravelling. What was a coordinated bot net just collapsed into chaos.”
R0SA’s mechanical face did the closest thing it could to a frown, “Reviewing your logs this does line up exactly with when the nuke went off on the Deep, though how Monarch would have been able to transmit such vast quantities of data instantaneously over such a distance is a mystery.”
“Perhaps our ex-Cloudbank contacts down on Cylon might have some answers” mused Angus, “either way I need to check in with Yandee, the first shuttles of new arrivals are due and will need to be swept for cybermod infections. Catch you later R0SA”. Angus flipped neatly in the zero-g and kicked off from the workstation.
An ad swarm floats above the urban skyline of Cylon, hundreds of mini drones project an image across the smog filled air, it shows a vast space station, blown up out of proportion, orbiting a glittering planet. Text scrolls across the image: Sign up now for a space on the new Prospero’s Dream… Only 1,045,912 places remain! The number ticks down erratically.
A media feed shows a corporate court room, a man in an ocean wave holo t-shirt sits in the defendant’s podium, his feet on the desk. A lawyer in a neat suit paces before him.
“Your honour, I posit that Mr Bowe, being the pilot of the CSS Forever Autumn, was fully responsible for the destruction of the station at Siddhartha’s Peace” begins the lawyer.
“Objection your honour!” calls out the man in the holo t-shirt.
Irritated, the judge turns to the defendant, “Yes Mr Bowe”.
“Nothing really, I just wanted to say that, seen it in on one of those old screenshows.” responds the man, pulling an auto-bong from his pocket and taking a hit.
“I don’t think you’re quite taking this seriously enough Mr Bowe” the lawyer begins again, “the value of the property you destroyed is over a billion credits”.
“So bill me… do you take..uh…sycorax?”
Combat Footage Archive Personnel File Reference XY091 Grainy footage shows a first person view of a firefight. Vital signs show critical stress levels. Pulse rifle fire lashes out across the top of a pile of sandbags. The camera pans to follow the tracers, at the bottom of a crater blasted slope a dozen huge crabs scuttle forward, rounds pinging from their carapaces. The view shifts left as voices call out.
Sgt Fuller XT024 Johnson where the hell is our backup!
Pvt Johnson XY091 Comm net is down sarge, it’s fubar!
Sgt Fuller XT024 Fuck this… prepare to fall back. Jones grab the acid bomb and set a delay of 60 seconds.
The camera pans back down the hill, a carcinid looms, filling the screen.
Pvt Johnson XY091 Oh shit, oh shit, oh…
Suddenly the carc’s head pops, a split second later the report of a rail gun fills the air.
Major Andere T1337 This is Major Andere, hold fast marines, the cavalry has arrived.
A drop ship flies into view, a figure in advanced battle dress leans from the side hatch, a rail gun braced against his shoulder.
An advert plays on a vast 2D screen above the docks of Prospero’s Dreams as dozens of people disembark from a jumpliner. The advert shows a grinning man in a holo t-shirt, he gestures enthusiastically for the camera to follow as he walks amongst a tropical garden. “Come join me at the new Solarian retreat on the Dream”. The camera hovers for a panoramic shot, people in tie-died robes lounge amongst the trees, a cloud of smoke hangs above them, capybaras can be seen lolloping along the winding paths.
The frigate hung in space, its jet black hull silhouetted against the distant starlight, the only identifying mark a snarling leopard above its gunnel. On the bridge, a dozen heavily armed mercenaries busied themselves at various stations. In the command chair sat a hulking figure, more machine than man. The cyborg stood, his hands resting on the hilt of a vibechete and plasma pistol clamped to either leg.
The shadow of a grin played across the pirate king’s face. “Set a course for Karth…”
mothership rpgs journal
log file Kipling0ZPM01
osr rpgs shadowdark
3 moons ago the Queen’s recruiting sergeants marched through town.
mothership rpgs review
Its been a while since I’ve written a blog post and since I’m sat here staring at a pile of modules that I’ve played recently I thought I’d do a single post and try and cover of some of my thoughts on a few at once, as well as an update on my review of Mothership.
halo wargaming review
Halo Flashpoint is a miniature skirmish game set in the Halo universe designed by Mantic Games. I’ve had my eye on it for a while now but due to missing the initial hype wasn’t able to find a copy of the Spartan edition in stock anywhere. I finally decided to just bite the bullet and get the smaller Recon edition of the game, only to then find a copy of the Spartan Edition available at Dark Star Games.
40k wargaming journal
Recently I’ve started playing 40k again, partly because pushing minis around is fun but also because it’s a good excuse to get a regular in person social event in the calendar.