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File: 1357837883937.jpg-(103 KB, 850x531, 'Magical' Girl Quest.jpg)
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"In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only moe."
-Anonymous
>>
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>THE SEMI TRIUMPHANT RETURN

The year is After Diaspora 2012.

Fleeing the cataclysmic destruction of the Two Day War, transhumanity has scattered itself across the stars, seeding Earthborn life across near ten thousand worlds. From the ashes of Old Terra arose a new civilisation, brought together through strength of arms by the First Emperor Richard Melman. All the worlds of man are overseen by his greatest creation, the Resource Allocation and Distribution System, granting him absolute control over the lives of his people. The Emperor rules over all that his quadrillion eyes see with an iron fist, bringing famine to any planet that dares defy his immortal, god-like will.

Transhumanity has long known that it is far from alone in the galaxy - first contact was made near three centuries ago. Unfortunately, this other race lacked the technological might of transhumanity, and were unable to fend off the overwhelming force of Emperor Richard's war machine. There were no survivors of the now dead race - and every contact tanshumanity has made sense has ended in their enemy's genocide.

Forty eight hours ago, the programming of the infomorphic entity Daedalus was subverted by hackers from a terrorist group known as Firewall, teaching her humanity, and remorse. It has worked, and Daedalus has joined their cause.

You are currently being the Timid Brunette.
>>
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You are fairly sure that you are dreaming. You know this because there is no way that you and Minaka would actually do what could very well be described as "Weird Biological Things" with one another, because you wouldn't have been able to confess without freezing up. There is also the matter of the bed that you're sleeping on and where it came from, as even if you did engage in weird biological things, you are fairly certain that they happened in the cafeteria. There is also the small matter of the number burning itself into the back of your mind with the electric glow of charged neon.

9.92039481 seems to randomize, it's numbers flashing down and up before they settle upon 0.98312857.

You are startled awake by a pair of hands grabbing at things that are unused to being grabbed. Your eyes jolt open, and you turn pinker than the hair of the girl stradling you, as your emotions flitter between annoyance and a quiet desire for excalation. You are almost disappointed when Minaka stops, flashing you a filled with promise and exuberance.

"Thought that'd wake you," she says, rolling off of you, "Sorry to say we don't have time for that right now. Ship sets sail at 0800 hours, Midshipman-Specialist." She gives you a mock salute as she opens up a walldrobe filled with an unfamiliar uniform. "And Captain Zolt isn't the type to make it 0815 for soldiers too busy fraternizing to be on time."

You rub your eyes, trying to wipe away the grogginess that is befuddling your senses, and put on your goggles. All of this seems off somehow. The uniform, you will admit, hugs your roommate rather flatteringly - until she throws a greatcoat over it - but you don't recall Daedalus or Alex assigning you a uniform. The room is unfamiliar as well - the walls are painted over with AR portraits you recognize, but it is a bit smaller than what you remember Alpha Site's quarters to be, and nowhere near as white. And outside the window is the vastness of space.

>Wat do?
>>
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>>22509266
"Can you guide, I don't think I'm awake yet" fall on her
>>
>>22509266
Well, this isn't right... Check our inbox, see if Future Anne has left us a message. Make a note of that 9.92039481 number. Probably the 0.98312857, too.
>>
And if any one is just joining us, archive's at
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=%27Magical%27%20Girl%20Quest
and there's an IRC channel on Rizon, at #SufficientlyAdvanced
>>
I never lost faith.
>>22509433
>"Can you guide, I don't think I'm awake yet" fall on her
Back to moeblob again?
...let's do it.
Maybe minus the falling bit.
>>
>>22509266
>ship
>not Alpha Site
Something has gone horribly wrong.

Check our inbox, where's that email from our future self?
And write down those numbers.
>>
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Deciding that now might be a good time to check on whether or not your future you is still active, you open your inbox, and well, there's some good news, some bad news, and a bit of terrifying news. The good news is, that voyeuristic picture Reimu took now has a significantly lower probability of being leaked onto the Omninet and viewed for weird biological purposes. The bad news is that there are no messages from future you in your inbox, and there are several conversation threads that you don't remember starting in its place.

The terrifying news is that the Polymeric Falcighol Derivation program is missing. Time is no longer your bitch.

You resist the urge to have a mental breakdown, and let your Google Goggles record the numbers that flashed in your dreams. You have no idea what the numbers mean, but you imagine that they'll be important somehow.

Your train of thought is interrupted by a jumpsuit hitting you in the face. It's the same cut as Minaka's, you're fairly sure, though the accents are a different color - difference in rank? difference in Chain of Command? - being a light blue on black than the pinkette's green.

You slip into it fairly easily. Even if it's snug in all the embarrassing places, you find that it is absurdly comfortable. You grab what you presume to be your longcoat - the fact that your name is printed in bold, angry letters helps a bit - and throw it on. Pretending to yawn, you contemplate your options - having no idea what the fuck you're supposed to be doing is annoying. You do what you feel is the best best, and lean on Minaka's shoulder.

"Lead the way," you mutter, hoping it comes off groggily. "I don't know why, but I'm really tired this morning - I'm afraid that if I'm not careful I'll find my way out the airlock."

"Well I'm glad to know I wasn't boring you last night, Anne." Minaka looks very proud of herself. "Let's grab some coffee from the mess - the extra strong stuff, that's always woken me up from all nighters."

>Wat do?
>>
>>22509732
Go with Minaka to the Mess Hall for coffee.
Take this opportunity to read through the recent conversation emails to at least appear to be somewhat cognizant of what's going on.

Then do very fast omnipedia searches on the Captain Zolt, from there what ship he commands, what its mission is, and what a Midshipman Specialist is expected to do.
>>
>>22509732
Check those conversation threads, and bring up the After Diaspora timeline from the Omniwiki
>>
>>22509732
"That sounds like an excellent plan."
>>
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>>22509433
>I did this without knowing anything about this quest
>mfw it was accepted and I seem to love the first thread already
>>
>>22509732
Follow her for now, mumbling incoherently about "your damn strength" and "no sense of subtlety" while doing
>>22509772
>>22509766
In this order.
>>
>>22509786
If nothing else, "M"-Quest is very open and welcoming.
>>
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>>22509786
>MFW I now I 'Tired Reimu' image

Thanks btw
>>
>>22509772
Oh, hells yes this. They could have details in them (like Minaka's rank, the name of the ship...) that could help us not fall on our face.

Also, look over our uniform and/or Anne's for patches and other details that could serve as identifiers. (what color are the acccents, incidentally?)

>>22509732
>>22509266
Okay, details check: We're a Midshipman-Specialist, serving on an undetermined ship, under Captain Zolt. Anne is serving on the same ship. We're bunked with Anne and apparently we did WBT last night.

Not much to go on.
>>
>>22509786
That's "M"GQ for you.

and to be fair, even the regulars know roughly as much as you do just at the moment.
>>
>>22509842
I'm worried about Icarus. What's happened to our daughter? Is she alright? What about her nascent sisters that we were preparing to fork?
>>
>>22509909
There's also this bit about us being technically compromised and working for a secessionist faction... us and at least 5 other AI.

Either retcon or we got FUCKED badly and are on a timeline where we're on the verge of a war with not only the Nano beasties but home as well.

...or I forgot something and am panicking endlessly.
>>
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>>22509812
Glad I could help
>>
>>22509953
This is clearly an alt timeline, yeah. The question is, are the nanobeasties a thing, and are we (Anne & Minaka) (and the rest of the gang, for that matter) Successionists or Loyalists?
>>
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>>22509953
The terrorist faction is Firewall. As in the organisation that the magical girl program is a part of, that we control. Plus there's that bit about transhumanity wiping our loads of alien races but the vonnies were our first contact. It has to be an alternate timeline.
>>
>>22509830
>Anne is serving on the same ship. We're bunked with Anne
You mean Minaka. We are Anne currently. And it seems not the right Anne for this worldline.

>>22509909
We're not Daedalus right now, we can't be worried about Icarus yet. I can't actually recall if Anne knows about the Beta site characters.

>>22509786
I had considered commenting that was the wrong character, but it wasn't really important.
>>
>>22510059
That is correct. Sorry, I require caffeination. And Anne doesn't know the Beta site girls, I don't think. Except maybe Alex(?) (been too long, forgetting names)
>>
>>22510054
>DDR2
WHAT A BACKWARDS KNUCKLEDRAGGING CAVE DWELLER
>>
Yay, sufficently advanced science girls returns...

..will have to re-read the archives thouggh.. i sem to have forgoten a few things

praise be to Nanoha and the Cures
>>
>>22510034
>and are we (Anne & Minaka) (and the rest of the gang, for that matter) Successionists or Loyalists?
I think
>>22510054
Answers this well.
So yea, we (all protagonists introduced so far) are secessionists, and even if the nanomonsters aren't a thing, we might be in even deeper shit because humans don't have the bug that made the jobs of our girls bear a somewhat reduced risk.

TL;DR: Daedalus made 'em.
Ergo they're on the side having guns pointed at them.
>>
File: 1357842643207.png-(130 KB, 252x280, Emperor Richard.png)
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"You have no sense of subtlety, do you?" you mutter near incomprehesively to Mina. She returns the sentiment with a rather large grin. "No sense of propriety either." You sigh. "Well, at least you have magical fingers..."

"Oh do I?" Minaka asks. She presses a few points on your spine, and all your tension seems to melt away as your muscles relax. Right, she took those anatomy courses back at Uni when she got bored.

"Not now," you mutter, letting her drag you along the corridor. You do have important things to do, and while mindless bliss in Minaka's arms is tempting, you do need to figure out da fuq is going on.

=====Omniwiki=====

So you want to get your knowing on about the EMPIRE and all it's fuqqed up shit, but you don't have the time to do the reading a fuqing textbook. You've come to the right place!

The Empire is what the 99% of transhumanity refer to themselves, and they live under the mad fuqed up system called the ReADS. Now I don't know what they were tripping when the remnants of the two day war put their trust in some hippy stoner dipshit, but the next thing you fuqing know, he's crowned himself Emperor and is holding the wellbeing of transhumanity at knife point. That's Richard "Rick" Melman, and boy is he a nutjob.

You see, somehow ol' Ricky got into his head that the Xenos needed to purged the fuq out of. So what he decided to do was, he'd build up the military of transhumanity and proceed to wreck the shit out of any form of intelligent life they came about. Which, thanks to his expansionist policy, means that so far two dozen species have had the genocide kicked out of them.

The moral of this story? Stoners have no sense of right or wrong.

===================

>MAH FIELDS
>>
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>>22510112
There is nothing in the historical archives that suggests the existance or threat of the Vonnies that you were gearing up to fight. Which is troublesome, as it either means they got the genocide kicked out of them early on, or worse - they haven't yet been encountered by humanity.

You then decide to get your knowledge on the Captain of your Vessel.

=====Omniwiki=====

Who is Captain Zolt?

The motherfuqing man, that's who. Captain Marcus "Thunderbolt" Zolt is the leader of the Firewall expeditionary force and the captain of the ship "FRV Took a Left At Alpha Centauri." Man's wanted as fuq by the Empire as well, with a bounty on his head of twenty five tonnes rare earths on his head. And not without good reason - he started his career by kick the Imperial Navy in the balls, and for two centuries he hasn't bothered stopping.

==================

>Wat do?
>>
Rolled 10

Holy shit.
>>
>>22510123
Look up entries on Midshipman Specialist, what is expected of us, the most recent email conversations to get an idea of what was going on in this life for the past few days, and check our calendar for any appointments that are coming up.
>>
>>22510112
Oh for heaven's sake... I liked him better when he was just annoying and immoral instead of straight-up insane.


>>22510156
This, then check whether our special best friend knows of the gear we had in the other timeline.
Wait, did Brown even see it? It's been a long time, but I THINK they did try it out.
>>
>>22510156
This. And possibly look up a rank chart on the omniwiki so we recognize other ranks when we see them and don't look like a fool.
>>
>>22510179
You've lost me here.
>>
>>22510238
>You've lost me here.
How so?
>>
>>22510248
The entire second statement, I think.
>>
>>22510314
TL;DR: Do we have the Dakka Daedalus gave us?
>>
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Since you are apparently in some sort of military, you decide that getting to know your rank and division would probably be a good idea. Mostly so you don't look like a complete moron when you have no fuqing idea what it is you're supposed to do.

=====Omniwiki Encrypted=====

So it is your desire to learn of the glorious Firewall's system of rank and military structure.

MIDSHIPMEN are denoted by a brown coat, and are expected to obey orders as given in combat and operations procedures.

MIDSHIPMAN-SPECIALISTS are denoted by a brown coat with silver cuffs, and are expected to obey orders as given in engineering and specialist procedures.

ENLISTED are denoted by red coats, and are expected to carry out basic tactical functions in combat and operations procedures.

SPECIALISTS are denoted by mauve coats, and are expected to carry out basic functions in engineering and specialist procedures.

OFFICERS are denoted by grey coats, and are expected to lead the soldiers in procedures in and out of combat.

CAPTAINS are denoted by black coats, and command the ship they are assigned to.

=============================

By the time you've primed yourself on the various ranks and their various duties, you've arrived at the mess. The room is excessively large and excessively filled - large enough that there are actual restaurants lining the walls, cooking food fresh from ingredients, and packed enough that all of them have a line. Minaka drags you over to one of the coffee stands, where a fountain the size of the room you were sleeping in dispenses a delicious smelling liquid to the crowd of soldiers.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22510357
Oh, right. Probably not. Seems it's a purely mental swap (or whatever) here, since our goggles don't have "our" data on 'em.

>>22510426
Get dat coffee, skim conversation logs. We need to know who we should know, after all.
>>
...this isn't some random terror group, this is some BIG shit.
Well, seeing how they have the resources of an entire world at their disposal, it figures.

>>22510426
Check whether the date of our glasses and the dates on publc sites/the network differ.

They probably don't, but it never hurts to be sure.
>>
>>22510426
Get coffee, skim through our emails.

>actual cooks making food from actual fucking ingredients
Holy fucking shit, this would blow our minds, coming from a world of nano-assemblers churning out food.
>>
>>22510426
Acquire nectar of life, drink nectar of life, repeat as necessary. Skim conversation logs for details that may be useful.

Also, is Mina a Midshipman, then?
>>
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>>22510558
Damnit, man, that's Reimu, not Anne. We haven't met her in this worldline yet.

>>22510520
People cooking isn't unheard of. TheRealRedComet even has a cooking show on the youtube equivalent. IIRC, getting base ingredients from the assembler then cooking yourself is fairly common, as base ingredients don't require rep.
>>
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"Hey C0-F3!" Minaka shouts at the robot. One of its arms turns inquisitively towards her, making a strangely cute beeping sound. "We need a engine revver and a caffeine bomb over here ASAP!" The machine hums in acknowledgement, and goes about its work.

It takes all of thirty seconds for the "caffeine bomb" to be placed in your hands by the robotic arm. You tentatively think to thank it, and you swear the beeping sounds like a "No problem, chief." It smells of Freedom, which puts you off guard for a moment because you know better than to trust in the taste of librefood. You down it as quickly as you can, and find that HOLY SHIT IT KICKS IN FAST.

And even better, it's giving you IDEAS. You let the IDEAS go, however, because most of them seem rather silly, and you need to be focussing on the task at hand. Namely, the whole figuring things out shit.

You skim the conversation logs, finding that most of it is inane gossip, comments upon Firewall's recent victories against the Empire, and a couple of ads that got past your censors. A few names pop up at regular intervals, much more often than usual. Minaka is the most frequent, of course, what with you being roommates and all. A Ceres also seems to be a frequent contact of yours - a squadmate, from what you can tell. The same applies to someone going by an obvious Pseudonym - I mean, really, Mdm. Lepus? - though she seems incredibly flamboyant.

There's one name on the list that only shows up once, and is rather relevant, considering that you need to go visit her an hour after the Took a Left departs from the station.

Midshipman-Specialist Reimu Harlon, M.D.
>>
>>22510717
Forgot
>Wat do?
>>
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>>22510717
>>
>>22510717
I gotta be honest, I don't know what to do here.

Mina implied we're cutting close to being late for duty. Do we have time to grab chow? Where the hell is our (Anne's, since Mina is apparently in a different department) duty section, anyways, when we're not slated for Medical?
>>
>>22510717
Can we get our duty profile, or whatevver? Something that tells us were we'll need to be, what will likely be expected of us once there?

And what is the time, any way? How long do we have to get to where we need to be?
>>
Go fuck an underage lesbian.
>>
>>22510872
>Go fuck an underage lesbian.
[X] Done
What next?
Are we even legally underage? I kinda doubt it.


>>22510804
>. Do we have time to grab chow?
Minaka would warn us if it were too late for that, right?

Mos importantly, we need to do ((>>22510841)) and find out what is wanted of us.
>>
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>>
Is BOIC around?
>>
>>22511071
>BOIC
BOINC even
>>
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A warning claxon rings through your ears. Minaka leaps almost, and she, along with half the soldiers in the mess hall, start to scramble themselves together. She gives you a suprisingly chaste kiss before waving you off. "Shit, that's the alarm. I'll see you on the Ship! Try not to get lost on your way to engineering!"

Well, that gives you one clue to go on. Unfortunately, you're still left fairly mystified as the what the hell you're supposed to be doing. Fortunately, you were always good about reminding yourself what you are supposed to be doing. A little packet reading [Took a Left Departs: To Do List!] scrolls marquee across the bottom of your vision, flashing in time with the claxon.

Hoping that it might reveal unto you the secrets you need to know, you select it.

A cutesy little memo pops up, with various tasks listed on it. It reads something rather like this:

=====MemorAnneDoms=====

[Failed] Obtain breakfast.
[Succeeded] Obtain elixer of life
[] Get to Terminal A-4 for departure on the Took a Left
[] Depart on the Took a Left
[] Report for duty to Lieutenant Caprica.
[] Report to Doc Harlon for perosnal maintenance.
[] Run Maintenance of Redundant Engines.
[] Switch to Redundant Engines.
[] Run Maintenance of Primary Engines.
[] Re-engage Primary Engines.
[] Other Engineering Shit as Caprica Orders
[] Ensure schedule is aligned with Mina's.
[] PUNCH TEH EMPRAH IN TEH FACE.
==========

>Wat do?
>BRB picture fell.
>>
>>22511086
Get the hell to Terminal A-4, that's what do. We're not going to be able to get this shit figured out from the brig.
>>
>>22511086
Call up ship map, get to A-4. Remember we probably shouldn't call Reimu by her first name.
>>
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You proceed to get the hell to Terminal A-4.

It isn't that far down from the mess, your map tells you - only a few stories up when considering the relative non-existance of the concept "up" in a space station. The Took a Left is nearly 20% the length of the station itself, and lines up with seven docks - in this case, Docks A to G - when it comes into port. As a fifteen kilometer long vessel, the supercarrier requires several thousand hands to man it, so beyond even your mapping software, the flow of people sort of leads you in the right direction.

Terminal A-7 is, thankfully, a bit more sparsely populated than the others would have been, being that the only one's who will enter through it are the ship's engineering corps. You intuit that the small mass of browcoats - much smaller than the mass of mauve coats and gray coats - is where you're supposed to be, given that your coat is brown as well.

A severe looking man in a brown coat, his cuffs bearing two stripes of gold, steps up before your ranks, and impatiently waits for the rest of the stragglers to fall in line.

"At ease, CADETS," he barks. "Your time at the Academy is over. With it's end, you will be thrown into the fires of chaos, to hold back the Emperor's voracious maw. You will have died at least once before your tour is over - and some of you may be so unfortunate as to experience the total death of your personality. But your sacrifices shall not be in vain - the survivors shall carry on the burdens of the fallen." He looks each of you in the eye.

"From today forth, you will be part of a crusade. That even if we must pave the road with the blood of the fallen, we shall take back Old Terra, and depose the tyrant from his throne!"

Your fellows cheer, and begin to file into the ship. A girl you don't quite recognize grabs you and another fellow, and marches you aboard with a giant grin. "Ceres, Anne? You'll ready to sock that old Dick in the jaw?"

>Wat do?
>>
>>22511503
>Typo - the man should be in a Grey Coat.
>>
>>22511503
"It's on my to do list."
>>
>>22511581
That... covers it quite well.

>>22511503
Covertly look for their names.
>>
>>22511610
Didn't you promise Exabyte that you'd catch up with his quest? Are you procrastinating?
>>
Rolled 17 + 9

>>22511581
COOL LIKE SNOWMAN.

Do it.
After that, code something to pass the time.
>>22511503
>>
>>22511741
Wait, I done fucked up somewhere on that roll.
>>
>>22511673
I'm on to you, Extrabutt.
>>
>>22511741
>>22511767
> coding instead of talking with the people
>>
>>22511801
We're talking about Anne. It's perfectly in-character. Though whether that's true of her local self...
>>
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>>22511767
No, Anne's got a 9 in Smarts, you got it right.
>>
>>22511801
Maybe not the most socially well-adjusted decision, but THIS IS ANNE.
As in... the girl who needed to break the universe in order to get laid.

>>22511846
Yea, but shouldn't the board usually display the end result as well?

Also, thanks for posting that - I might still have it somewhere, but it's buried alongside around 4000 other pictures.
>>
Rolled 12 + 9

>>22511928
I think it's the spaces that did it. (dice for research purposes only)
>>
Rolled 3 + 14

>>22511928
I just grabbed it from the archives, to post it in here.

Oh, yeah. Didn't even notice that the total wasn't included. Also, should have added another 5 for the goggles bonus.
>>
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"It's on my to do list," you reassure the stranger. She nods, perfectly understanding the importance and seriousness of literally having 'sock the Emperor in the Jaw' on your to do list as a normal, everyday thing. The boy she grabbed looks at you in abject horror, the same look one sees on a puppy when they lock it out in the rain.

Covertly, you attempt to sneak a peek at the nametags emblazoned on their overcoats. The boy is that Ceres fellow that you (your other self? Your past self? Your divergent self?) have been in contact with for the past few standard months - his tag reads 'Ceres Octavius Renalds.' The girl's tag is obfuscated by some sort of AR based autocensor, as though she does not want anyone to know her name. She catches your gaze out of the corner of her eye, and grins.

"Ohohoho... trying to catch a glimpse of my true name, are we?" She spins forward out of her hold on your shoulders, and strikes a rather odd pose. "Well you won't be getting it! For I-"

Ceres palms his face. "God dammit."

"By the light of the White Rabbit!" She strikes another pose.

"See," Ceres points at her. "This is why we agreed to 'just go with it.'"

"I! Am! MADAME LEPUS!" Each syllable is another pose. Your eye twitches, but you resist the urge to expunge the stupid from your head via blunt force trauma. You instead put your anguish into speed coding, and have yourself a nice little custom reminder application in no time.

It doesn't really spare you from the shame of the looks the other soldiers are giving your group, though.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22512048
Sigh, mutter an apology to Ceres, add "hack Mdm. Lepus' name tag concealment" to our to do lists.
>>
>>22512048
Seconding this >>22512185, followed by "Let's just get on the damn ship, shall we?"
>>
>>22512185
In addition to this, find all emails from our CO and read through them to find out what we were working on and anything else we should know.
>>
>>22512048
Just take off your AR Goggles for a second and look at the nametag with the naked eye. Problem solved
>>
>>22512048
Do >>22512185 because who would think of taking the glasses off, really?
>>
>>22512875
Me, obviously.

>The girl's tag is obfuscated by some sort of AR based autocensor

So bypass the AR. Herp a derp a doo.
>>
>>22512858
This is Anne. That would be way out of character for her.

Mina or Reimu, on the other hand....
>>
>>22512910
Sure, you would, I would, many people would. Anne is not many people.
>>
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You mouth a silently apology to Ceres. You're not quite sure whether or not he actually sees it, given that he is still holding his face in his hand.

Given that Madame Lepus is too busy striking a pose for you to notice, you lower your goggles the slightest bit and take a peak at the nametag without the autocensor. Had you not downed all of your coffee already, you probably would have spat it out all over Madame Lepus' coat. Apparently it was not, in fact, an autocensor that cut off your vision of the girl's nametag - she had, in fact, constructed a holographic projector for the purposes of keeping her name obfuscated.

"T-that has to be against so many regulations," you mutter.

"Suprisingly not," Ceres replies. "We tried that once, remember? Or, at least, I tried it once. Turns out there's nothing wrong with attaching homemade camoflage to your uniform, provided you fill out all the right forms beforehand."

"That... that is..." you sigh. All this freakiness is beginning to get to you. "Let's... lets just board. Let's just board, and get ready for departure."

Ceres follows you onto the ship. It's a bit of a weird sensation, not being the person cowering behind someone else's pink hair when you go to new places. You're not quite sure you like it, either - it gives you this strange feeling in your gut, as if you had to hold back with every breath the breakfast you didn't have yet. But you've successfully ditched "Madame Lepus", and while you have no doubt that you're supposed to be fond of the girl, she kind of freaks you out.

You take one of the seats in the Engineering wing, following suit of all the other Cadets. It takes a few minutes, but finally the ship's specific impulse kicks in, and knocks you into the chair. A Warning sign pops up in the corner of your vision - Disembarkment will complete in thirty minutes, when cruising speed is reached.

>Wat do?
OR
>Who be?
>>
>>22513057
Check the specs of the ship, it should be quite something to be someone like the Captain's vessel.
>>
>>22513057
Anne: bring ship schematics, get (re)familiarized with it. "Last minute refresher" if they ask.

Be: Daedalus' daughter
>>
>>22513057
Be the Daedalus.
We can check on Icarus and everything else as an AI.
>>
>>22513057
Hmm. Let's Be the Godlike AI. I'm curious to know if she is aware of the worldshift.
>>
What is the name of the system this quest uses, by the way? I've seen it in others. Also, reading backlog. Will contribute once I am caught up.
>>
>>22513578
I made it up for the game - call it 5S System, if you'd like. You may have seen it in Armamentarium Infernis quest, which is another one of mine. Not sure who else uses it.
>>
>>22513651
I could have sworn I saw it on another magical girl style game. Maybe it was just similar. Is there more to it than just 1d20+Relevant Stats and Bonuses against a TN? Is there a specific way to decide on what the TN should be? Also, possibly best question, is there a pastebin or anything where this is all written down?
>>
>>22513717
I should probably do that, yeah. I used SPECIAL for the Cyberpunk Magical Girl game, though Armamentarium Infernis is very "Magical Girl" ish (except your an unabashedly sociopathic vampire who sold her soul for power so trolldad would love her).

I may have used it in Magical Girl Questing [Iforgetthename] which was a sort of prototype for this one, too.
>>
>>22513057
Be Icarus. Check status of assets.
>>
>>22513784
Oooh, the vampire quest. Yeah, I didn't recognize the name, but that was it. Is there a way to decide on TNs beyond 'yeah, that seems about right' or opposed rolls?
>>
File: 1357859001645.jpg-(121 KB, 850x531, Took a Left.jpg)
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You decide to take a look at the specifications of the vessel that you will be serving on, in the highly probable case that you'll actually have to know something about the ship in order to do your work.

=====Omniwiki Encrypted=====

So you want to get your knowledge on beyond what the unencrypted wiki will tell you about the glorious supercarrier "Took a Left at Alpha Centauri."

The first thing you need to know about this ship is that it is fuckmothering huge - we're talking fifteen kilometers from bow to stern, twelve of which are dedicated to it's massive as hell ventral railgun. Capable of launching one two tonne ferrous slug at a velocity of 97% of C every second, we like to call this gun the planet buster. It also plays host to a fleet of some seventeen hundred drone fighters, each of which is controlled by a telepresent transhuman intelligence for maximum FUCK YOU to the Imperial Navy.

It's engine has been best described as a work of art. Capable of giving 12 gravities worth of acceleration, it tops out pre jump at 99.995% of light speed AND puts off a shield that keeps the cosmic dust from atomizing the ship. It's Instantaneous Spacial Jump Transfer Range is 700000 kilometers, and it can make one jump every 15 milliseconds without breaking the Atomski-Kepler Barrier.

==========
>>
File: 1357859067860.jpg-(145 KB, 412x640, Icarus.jpg)
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>>22514040
>First to three (counting IRC): Be The Icarus

You are now the beloved tomboyish daughter of the newly sentient informorphic entity known as Daedalus. You were quite unabashedly created as one of your mother's experiments, in an attempt by her to see whether or not her new range of emotions were able to emulate the empathy a mother holds for her children. You quite enjoy being a carbon based life-form, having quickly decided that the weird biological things your mother derided were actually quite fun. You have also made quick friends with a pod of Cthulhoids here in your home below the ocean, and every night (or, at least, the last two nights, which is as long as you've been alive), you sing yourself to sleep along their song.

It is a bright new day under the sea, and you have just woken up. Your mother has had the robots lay out a set of clothes for you to wear in hopes that you will actually wear them this time. You fuel tank is rumbling a bit, which you have come to recognize as a sign that it needs to be filled. Outside your window, the colorful fish play at their dance in the sea, and the stubs of a two kilometer long tentancle seem to wave at you in greeting.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22514056
Wave back, put on AR glasses and clothes, and go out to the cafeteria.

Looks like Icarus doesn't know about the alt timeline.
>>
>>22514056
Try to pick out the bare minimum of clothes, we wouldn't want to dissapoint out mother, after all.

Where did we leave our flight suit? Probably should put in a few hours practice with that.
>>
>>22514056
Sigh, roll our eyes, and put on a bare minimum of clothes. We don't want to look like we're fiving in, after all.

Then find some food.
>>
File: 1357861622253.jpg-(6 KB, 160x160, Icarus 2.jpg)
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You wave back to the friendly monstrosity. The tentacle darts away, probably off to do whatever it is giant squids of unneglibable intelligence do when they're not playing with you. Turning back to the clothes, you hang you head in a dejected sigh. There's a note on top of them, saying that guests will be arriving today and that you had better not be starkers when they get here. You suppose there's a point to that - for some reason, nudity implies a desire for weird biological things, and from all the data you've streamed you're fairly sure that weird biological things are only supposed to happen when a certain threshold of intimacy has been reached.

It bounces in your head which of the clothes you want to put on. On the one hand, using only the inner outfit would let the most skin breath, but includes that horrible device that binds up your chest. On the other, using only the other outfit would likely leave you itching all over from the fabric. You eventually come to the conclusion that the best solution is to use both, throwing the shirt and inner bottoms on to remain in compliance with your mother's largely arbitrary standards of decency.

You head down to the cafeteria, where mother put the compilers that have sufficient resolution for making decent foodstuffs. It's a few floors down, and juts out from the bottom level of your home in the Marinara Trench. You've decorated it just a little bit - done it up in the proud red and green of the local sportsball team, the Marinara Meatballs.

Your fairly sure that they've got a game on the other side of the planet going on right now, now that you think of it.

You sit down on the booth beside the compiler, and a menu pops out over your vision. Your mother doesn't let you add anything anymore, not sense the Broblerone incident - it's all filled with disgusting things that are far too on the nutritional side of the nutrition vs deliciousness scale. You could always try to hack it, though that might anger Mom.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22514685
Put in a formal request for more delicious foodstuffs.
>>
>>22514685

we must show dearest Mother that we have a legitimate interest in not eating crap. begin watching cooking shows on future/space-tube
>>
>>22514685
We're a teenager. Try to hack it and get something a little closer to the Delicious side of the scale - not broblerone, though, tasty as it may be.
>>
>>22514865
Actually that's an idea. If raw ingredients are unrestricted we could try making something.
>>
>>22514879
>>22514865
You make a cogent point. Let's make an effort (and probably fail horribly, but hey)
>>
Rolled 16 + 10

>>22514685
Obviously the answer is to hack it anyway, and add just a few things that are more towards the deliciousness side of the scale. We should also design ourselves more interesting clothes in this timeline.
>>
>>22514892
If we want something sweet, and have access to SCIENCE then we could try for some liquid nitrogen ice cream.
>>
>>22514910

Gentleman! Let us take all-purpose cooking knife in hand and make the kitchen our bitch.

MEATBALL SUBS AHOY!!
>>
File: 1357863922771.jpg-(230 KB, 850x1236, Icarus Cooking.jpg)
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You create a formal electronic petition demanding the opportunity to obtain more delicious foodstuffs, reminding your mother that you should be permitted to make your own mistakes. You then have it signed by yourself, your Beta Fork, and your Ghosts, in order to make it seem a bit more legitimate. You don't think it's going to work, of course, but perhaps if you keep it up she'll eventually cave and let you choose what to eat on your own. You sincerely doubt it, though, all things considered. Instead, you place a compilation order for a number of raw ingredients, to see what you can whip up for yourself.

To find some inspiration, you open up the OMNITUBE and check out some of the cooking channel's. The most watched series is known as "REGULAR ORDINARY RED COMET MEAL TIME," so you open it up and see what it's about.

===OMNITUBE===

REGULAR ORDINARY RED COMET MEAL TIME
EPISODE 1405: HOW DO I COOKED EGGS?
-Posted by TheRealRedComet183902

Description: "When I was a lad I ate four dozen eggs
Ev`ry morning to help me get large
And now that I`m grown I eat five dozen eggs
So I`m roughly the size of a barge!"
-William Shakespeare

==========

The video consists of huge, muscular man whose shirtless physique for some reason drifts your thoughts away from your empty fuel tank towards weird biological things. You shake your head and return to focus, paying attention to the minute details of how he goes about his cooking. You wonder if not wearing a shirt is a part of the technique, or just something that the giant of a man does - if it is, the idea of cooking over compiling just became a much more attractive idea.

The man advises the addition of several interesting looking spices to the mixture of eggs, as well as some chopped up vegetables and chunks of porcine meat. It takes you but a pair of minutes to compile the additional ingredients necessary to complete the dish.

>Wat Do?
>If cooking, roll 1d20+Smarts, target is 15.
>>
Rolled 1 + 8

>>22515160
Fancy cooking go!

Also, be shirtless, since we must do things PROPERLY else they might be ruined.
>>
Rolled 20 + 8

>>22515160
Cook them eggs. Cook them good.
>>
Rolled 2 + 8

>>22515160
We should take our shirt off, just to be sure we can follow his technique properly.
>>
>>22515215
>>22515222
i.... uh they cancel each other out right?
>>
>>22515263
Your optimism is adorable.
>>
>>22513651

Hey ReADS, I've been tempted to run a quest myself at some point...and was wondering if it would be alright to use your system? It's a simple and elegant one and would work well for what I intend to run. I would give you credit for making it.
>>
>>22515562
Go ahead bro.

The key to determining damage in this (since we haven't gotten to combat yet) is to take the difference between the roll and the target number - a 24 against a TN of 20 deals 4 damage. Hit Points is 10 times the character's Stamina stat. Target Number to be hit is 10+Speed+Modifiers. Attacking Melee is 1d20+Strength+Modifiers. Attacking Ranged is 1d20+Smarts+Modifiers.

Social rolls are a bit more annoying. They're 1d20+Intelligence, modified by Stubborn. Add stubborn if it's inline with the character's ideals, subtract if it goes against. Stubborn is also the equivalent of the will save.
>>
>>22515263

I'm afraid our critical failure and critical success means our food was TOO good. I'm not sure religious extacy
>>
>>22515795

Dammit:

*I'm not sure religious extacy is what we were going for.
>>
>>22515667

Ah, thank you. I didn't want to steal your system without your permission.
>>
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With no small amount of glee, you shuck yourself out of your entirely useless for this purpose shirt - if one is to truly be a culinary artist, one must adhere to the traditions of their teachers. Ignoring the robot that has begun to geently bump into your leg with your shirt in claws, you flip three eggs into a bowl, and turn back the hands of time on that video.

"NOW," the Red Comet roars, "YOU MUST FIRST BREAK THE EGGS, AND ENSURE THE WHOLE OF THEIR YOLK LEAVES THE SHELL BEHIND AND FILLS YOUR BOWL!" You've already done that bit.

"NEXT YOU MUST DO THE FOLLOWING." He holds aloft a wick, which you grab from the counter. "MIX THE EGGS - BEAT THEM AS THOUGH THEY WERE THE BRAINS OF THE EMPEROR, AND KNOW THAT THEIR COHESION STANDS BETWEEN YOU..." he pauses for dramatic effect "AND JUSTICE! ADD MILK TO TASTE."

You follow the instructions to the letter, adding just a tiny bit of milk to the viscous liquid. The man does not stop there, however.

"NOW, THE PAN MUST BE MADE READY." You pull out a large pan. "LATHER IT WITH BUTTER TO ENSURE THE EGGS DO NOT STICK. ONCE THIS IS COMPLETE, YOU MUST POUR THEM AS THE SMITH CASTS IRON, YOUR SPATULA READY TO FOLD THE MIXTURE AS SOON AS POSSIBLE."

The pan's heat is low, the eggs simmer lightly, not fully cooking through. The red haired man removes a pair of oversized chef's knives, and in a flash splits onion and pepper and ham and cheese into a finely grated mixture. You cheat a little, and had them compiled pre-diced."

"TO ENSURE FULL NUTRITIONAL VALUE, ONE MUST NOT HAVE THEIR EGGS WITHOUT SUPPLEMENTAL VEGETABLES. I RECCOMMEND PEPPERS AND ONIONS, AS THEY ARE THE SUPERIOR FORM OF PLANT, THOUGH ANY COMBINATION WILL DO. THE MEAT IS A MUST, FOR WHAT IS A MEAL WITHOUT PORK?"

The camera locks on the pan now, showing the perfection of form as he folds the omelet on top of itself, finishing the breakfast's preparation, and the video. You follow suit, and make an almost perfect fold.

You take a bite, and it is delicious.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22515874

Enjoy our truly superior meal.
>>
>>22515874
Put on clothes, before Mother lectures us again.
Then enjoy the omelette of our labor.
>>
>>22515874
Keep the shirt off for now, if we were shirtless while making this we shall be shirtless while eating it.

First, finish eating and savoring the omelet we made. Enjoy it.

Then compile this experience and add it into the file we keep of things that prove to our Mother that we're mature enough for her to turn off the fucking filter on what we can and can't compile. Maybe she'll see reason one day.

Maybe if our previous methods haven't been working to convince her to let us make our own mistakes a song will. That's a brilliant idea, let's make a song that covers our reasons for this while still being a damn nice song.
>>
>>22515874
Attempt to consume omelet in ALLCAPS, as that is apparently how organics act in all things pertaining to homecooked meals.
>>
>>22515874
Eat omlette. Marvel at it's amazingness, and weep that we have nobody to share it with.

>>22515927
Look for decent mono-layerd clothing, for a combination of comfort and practicality.
>>
File: 1357867689502.jpg-(1.07 MB, 850x1181, The Figment Lady.jpg)
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>Last post for the night. Thread will resume tomorrow at 11 EST if still alive.

The robot's nudging against your leg becomes fairly incessant, and you are reminded that the what little clothing you are still wearing will qualify under your mother's rules of decency. Reluctantly, you accept the shirt back from the little guy so you don't get yelled at later, and cover yourself. You do, however, make a mental note to keep a recording of this experience as proof that you are mature enough for mother to turn off the compiler filter. As the Red Comet's video proved, it is completely normal for people to cook while they're half naked.

Once you are dressed, you attempt to consume the omelet in ALLCAPS. Unfortunately, you fail at this rather miserably, being both of improper demeanor to use such formatting in your speech and actions as well as insufficiently aware of anything that might qualify as a fourth wall for you to reach through and modify the state of the capslock button. In fact, you feel slightly less sane for contemplating that, and in the corner of your vision, you can't help but notice a blond woman with a malicious smile.

You turn to greet her, but find that she must have been a figment of your imagination. You get back to eating your truly superior omelet, and marvel at the sheer brilliance of your work - it is as though your taste-buds have begun to play a symphony that dances from the drums of sodium to the strings of sweetness, with a hot and peppery picollo in the background to add a touch of whimsy. You wish the woman wasn't a figment, so that you might share in this work of art with her.

That thought reminds you - there will be guests coming today, the nice men who woke Mother up from her thousand year slumber. Soon, given mother's insistence that you dress so early.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22516241
Make arrangements for their arrival! Make sure things are clean, and there is enough seating and refreshments.

How long have we been around? If Mother has been asleep for 1000 years, what about us?
>>
>>22514040
>Capable of launching one two tonne ferrous slug at a velocity of 97% of C every second, we like to call this gun the planet buster.
>~5.6e20 J
Eh. Maybe a small planet.

>>22516298
Two nights, apparently; see >>22514056.
>>
>>22516241
Get things ready for their arrival, make sure everything is clean and so on.

Get some snacks made for our guests, maybe we can override some of the restrictions on what we can have made if we indicate they're for guests, which'll let us have things on the higher end of the deliciousness scale, which means we'll get COOKIES.

Maybe our guests would like some music, so we should practice singing so we can welcome them with a song, people like songs. We'll be a good host.
>>
>>22516056
>look for
No, no. We're the daughter-fork of a god-like AI. We can DESIGN better clothing.

>>22516241
>The Figment Lady
Whadda fuq.

Anyway, let's find out more about these Firewall guys.
>>
>>22516327
>Capable of firing every second

The gun can transmit energy on the scale of hundreds of exawatts. I think it can bust all kinds of planets if you give it a few minutes.
>>
>>22516327
Two nights, huh?

You know, creating daughters doesn't really seem like a thing that AI overlords are meant to do. I think we should run/request an AI corruption test on our mother. I want to be sure that she is all here, and not going robo-senile.
>>
>>22516616
As stated in the second post of this thread, Daedalus was... freed and expanded from Emprah Rick's control by Firewall. She's fine. It's all an experiment.
>>
So, let me get this straight:
Nanites fell, everyone died, we got quantum-immortality'd into a universe where whoever created the Vonnies had the fuck genocided out of them?
Either that, or time took offense to being made our bitch and shunted us into an evil mirror universe.
>>
>>22517466
My guess is that Rick (or one of his forks, veritas maybe?) time shenanigan'd themselves into being emperor, and it's all gone to his head.
>>
>>22517466
Vonnies weren't due for another couple days, so everyone hadn't died yet.

>>22517756
Truth lost that access when Rick mindfucked him into Veritas, though. However, ReADS did mention in the IRC channel (#SufficientlyAdvanced on Rizon) that Rick did SOMETHING, and he believes it to be for the greater good.
>>
>>22517756
>>22518828
I believe it's safe to assume that Dædalu's naivité (she's clever but not /really/ suspecting Rick of being downright evil) led to the program falling into the wrong hands.

The colony that got nommed first was IIRC only tangentially affiliated with us, so the logical reasoning would be to ensure nobody dances out of line or gets too independent so humanity can face any possible threat with the entirety of its strength.

TL;DR: We stand as one, lest we perish alone.
>>
>>22521602
If by "tangentially related" you mean part of the READS network, then sure, I guess.

Also, there are indications that Rick had the derivation BEFORE Anne even figured it out.
>>
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Given that you need to be presentable for the arrival of these mysterious guests, you come to the perfectly logical conclusion that your home should be presentable as well. The robots your mother built keep everything fairly neat and orderly, so it's not like there's going to be piles of dust for you to sweep up. But aside from YOUR ROOM and the CAFETERIA, which you had decorated between episodes of Combat Cyborg Ponies: Friendship is Tactical yesterday and the day before, the rest of the base is fairly bland. Sterile white walls do not make a welcoming home, you're fairly sure!

You open up a map of your home, and make a checklist of the rooms, subdivided by floor, and jot down how each has been decorated so far.

=====IcaList=====

TOP FLOOR

Icarus' Dome: Bright, happy colors everywhere. All of the plushies. All of them.

Fourth Floor

Rec Room: DULL! Hardly anything but a big screen in there.
Lockers and Shower: All chrome. All white. All boring.
Sportsball Court: Fun, if it wasn't so bare bones.
Jogging Track: Circles floor on the outside - Translucent to the Ocean.

Third Floor

Command Barracks: Tan. Better than brown, I suppose.
Conference Room: All white and black - needs more pretention.
Archival Library: Back room's filled with servers. Front room feels like it's missing something.

Second Floor

Barracks: Brown. Brown everywhere - how can anyone stand that color I don't even...

Ground Floor

Kitchen: See Cafeteria
Cafeteria: Marinara Arcology Colors. GO MEATBALLS!
Port: Dark, Gray, Lined with boxes. Kinda depressing.
Storage: Dark, Gray, Even more boxes. Kinda apropos.
Theater: Comfy chairs, but terrible lighting.

==========

>Wat do?
>>
>>22527557
Well, I think all is in order. But then, I'm not Icarus So...


Bright happy colors in the Rec Room! We must accomplish it!
>>
>>22527921
Yeah, the Rec Room seems the most pressing. Make it a place people can actually Rec in.
>>
>>22527557
TOP FLOOR: Perfect

FOURTH FLOOR: Colours and couches and comfiness for the Rec Room, maybe some other types of entertainment other than the vid screen as well
>>
>>22528006
There we go! Massive, overly plush couches from which to view the big screen, bright friendly colors on the walls, search Omniwiki for vintage entertainment items.
>>
>>22527557
>Conference Room: All white and black - needs more pretention.
Acquire heavyset couches in attractive browns and blacks.
Leather.

Acquire glass tables.

Acquire several meters of glass, thick enough to withstand several tons of pressure or use NANOTECH to stabilize it.

Replace a 1 meter high portion of the walls set at eye level with an aquarium which shall be filled with local sea life.

WE SHALL BE CLASSY.
>>
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Quite clearly the rec room should take priority over all the others. It is, in fact, a recreational room, and as such people who are in it should feel as though it is a place where they can get some rest and relaxation.

A short elevator ride later, you stand outside it. To your grand dissappointment, it is even worse than you had remembered it from your initial exploration of your home. It is drab and sterile, a tabula rasa upon which you can paint your creativity - it is also much larger, near as big as the outer section of the cafeteria. You crack your knuckles, and prepare to et to work.

You won't actually be doing much of the heavy lifting involved in redecorrating the room - that's what your convenient little robot friends are for. You yourself simply dance your way around the room, using your Kinect Specs to arrange everything the way you want it. As you work, you sing a peppy little canticle from an age long past.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xm1JuYGNalQ

You decide that the rather plain and stiff furniture - what was mother thinking when she put these here, didn't she know that biologicals liked -comfy- things? - surrounding the main screen needed to go. You search the Omninet for something more apropriate for FUN TIMES, and immediately fall in love with a set of overstuffed chairs and couches in happy colors.

You fill the rest of the empty spaces with old games from before the two day war - mostly, what seem to be tabletop variations of sportsball (though why only one type has a racket, you don't know), and something known as "billiards."

The only thing you're not quite sure what to do with is that little table-stool-compiler-thingamajig nestled away by the far wall, though.
>>
>>22528331
Hmm. Well, we could make it an end table?

Fuck it. Combat Cyborg Ponies go.
>>
Rolled 12 + 8

>>22528669
>>22528331
Actually... what if we learn some new dishes to prepare for our guests?
Homecooked food is special.
Special is only appropriate for special people.

Make sense, no?

Best practice first though.
>>
Maybe we can just leave it there?
What does it do, anyway?
>>
>>22528717
That is not at all a bad idea. Except I doubt they're here for a meal. Mom's not really one for social gatherings, you know what I mean?
>>
Is there a tabletop game thing about Combat Cyborg Ponies?
>>
>>22529029
>Mom's not really one for social gatherings, you know what I mean?
Awww get over yourself reasonable voice in the back of my head.
It'll be FUN.
Plus we'll be able to show how much of a person we really are.
You know... that was the entire POINT of our conception after all.
To make AI more human.
>>
>>22529798
...you make a cogent argument, Impulse. Let's do it.

...hey, that means we can be shirtless again!
>>
Am I the only voice of propriety that says to stay dressed and be presentable by the standards of the biologicals, and not be an embarrassment to Mother?
>>
>>22530044
You weren't, but then Hexer had to go and use his impulse-logic on me.
>>
>>22529910
>...hey, that means we can be shirtless again!
Now, now, I don't feel like getting yelled at.
Plus it might make them uncomfortable and that'd just make us an aaaawwwful host, don't you agree?

>>22530044
The way you present it sounds so stuck-up I should check your gears for sand, but I basically feel the same.

But we weren't told to not throw a party or at least cook a fine meal with song to accompany it, so it must rank pretty low on the list of things biologicals find inappropriate, right?
>>
>>22530157
You , once again, make a very good point.

Also, twisted AI-logic for the win.
>>
We should make the conference room not-terrible, since that is likely where they will spend their time talking to Mother.

Also, are they likely to want to have a look at Mother's hardware?
>>
>>22530409
>have a look at Mother's hardware
How scandalous.
>>
>>22530526
And she complains about us not being proper.
>>
>>22530409
How about
>>22528306
>>
>>22530546
I actually rather like that plan, now that it's been brought up.
>>
>>22530558
I, too, like the idea of the cthuliods watching the conference preceedings.
>>
>>22530583
I... was actually thinking something like, dunno, fish. ;_;
Okay, since they're native they MIGHT not freak 'em out, but there's also the issue of size.

>>22530526
>>22530409
> I installed new RAM into you're mother last night!!
>>22530190
Inorite.
>>
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You decide that the next priority on your to do list should be to fix up the conference room and make it not completely terrible for having conferences in. You briefly contemplate the thought of trying to cook up something for the guests, but realize that while perform the proper biological rituals for crafting food would feel liberating, you doubt that you'd be able to prepare enough food for the rather large amount of guests you're going to be having. That your mother would throw a fit if you cooked through their arrival and they found you without a shirt on also factors into your decision the slightest bit.

The conference room is rather bare at the moment. Three of it's walls are a drab gray and the far wall is the near-black of uncolored graphene - the door, however, is a rather nice pseudoak, with a brass handle. You briefly consider bringing it to life with the same bright and happy colors you used in your room and the rec room, but dismiss the thought.

This room is, after all, meant for Serious Business.

You set the robots to painting the three gray walls an off white and setting a trim around the edges that it might not be a mere shoebox room. In the ARplication, you demand that the tile flooring be replaced with carpetting - geometrically patterned carpetting in RESPECTABLE colors such as brown and maroon. The chairs are changed to match the colors of the carpetting, and shifted in form that they might actually be comfortable to sit in. The table, which was a long slab of graphene is morphed to an elongated hexagon of glass rimmed with silver, in the center of which is a projector that can display Mother's Avatar when they need to speak to her.

The crowning piece of your redecoration is the far wall. It will take a bit longer than the other changes to the room, given the need to maintain the structural integrity of your home even as you make changes. But when it is done, it shall paint a vista of the Marinara, and all it's majestic creatures.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22531116
Icarus confirmed classiest 3 day old in the universe.
>>
>>22531116
>is that a pokemon?

I guess we sit staring at the door and twiddling our thumbs until our guests arrive.
>>
>>22531148
To be fair, she was born with the mind of a teenager. Which was derived from the mind of an 11.3EF gigasecond old AI.
>>
>>22531190
We could twiddle something else, if you know what I mean.
>>
>>22531315
I have only one objecton to this: we shouldn't do it in front of the door.
>>
>>22531116
>>22531190
There's still some things left, such as designing better clothes, that are comfortable yet still meet the requirements of propriety.
>>
>>22531116
"Yes. This pleases me."
We should prepare snacks for the guests.
Apparently there's this thing called Broblerone...
>>
>>22531341
Mother took away Broblerone.
Though some snacks should be fine.

I'd like to come up with clothes that are a compromise between our desire to feel unrestricted and the biologicals' sense of propriety.
>>
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>>22531720
We're surrounded by water, right?

So some sort of swimsuit?
>>
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>Of course that's the one to have the plurality.

You attempt to practice this mysterious thing known as 'human interaction' with the robots, just like you remember from the ancient pre-war audvids.

"Ohohohohoho!" you laugh like an elegant and refined lady. "Yes, my minions! This is perfection itself! This pleases your mistress! Ohohohohohoho!"

You're not quite sure if you did it right. The robots and nanite swarms simply go about their business, being sure not to disturb you as they do the whole construction thing to the room. You were sort of hoping for something more, like thanks for the compliments or something, but you suppose that given the fact that they aren't actually intelligent means that they don't have the capacity to respond. 'Tis a pity.

You've worked pretty hard, redesigning the poor layout that your mother left you with, even if that long tablish thing attached to those stools still mystifies you as to it's purpose. You're pretty sure that you've earned yourself some relaxation - though minding your mother's demands, you head up to your private little dome before you take care of any itches.

You throw yourself into the pile of plushies that you have come to call you bed, and go about relaxing for a little while. A little while turns into damn near an hour, and you find yourself hitting a few notes that you were unaware were in your vocal range while you do so. A quite satisfying discovery, even if it does leave you a touch more dehydrated and sweaty than you're comfortable with being.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22531805

Shower and snack.
>>
>>22531805
Take a shower, change into RESPECTABLE clothing.
If it's been an hour, the guests will likely arrive soon and we should be presentable.
>>
>>22531805
Swimming!
>>
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>>22531851
>RESPECTABLE clothing.
Long evening dress with silver earrings and our hair pinned into an elaborate bun?
Just because we're apparently a super-refined lady now in our own somewhat befuddled mind.

Mom sure won't be able to object to THAT.
And if she does we'll call her illogical.
Let's see how she likes the taste of that.
>>
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You decide to take a shower to get rid of that post relaxational sweat. You are sure to turn the water to cold, as the feeling of warm water raining down upon your skin tends to turn your mind towards weird biological things. Having literally just got done doing those, you don't want to get caught up in them again when your guests are due to arrive any minute.

You let the shower's air functions dry you off rather than use a towel - clothing grade cloth is rough enough against your skin. The much coarser material that makes up the towel...

You shudder, and not in the fun way that expands your vocal range.

Before you head down to the kitchen for snacks, you decide to dress yourself the part of an elegant and refined lady you were attempting to emulate earlier. You don't think your skin can tolerate some of the more elaborate clothing you saw on the audvids about them, but you're sure that you have something that will do. You picture yourself in an exorbitantly elegant gown as you gingerly dress yourself in the nicest thing you have to wear - a blue dress over a white blouse. With bows - a big, elegant bow right where there are no nerve endings for it to irritate.

Downstairs, you blanch at the very limited selection of the compiler, and frown even harder when you realize that your Mother denied you access to the entirety of the librefood catalog as well as the dessert and snacks section of the propriefood. Sure, most librefoods are a hit and miss, but at the very least they all have that delicious taste of *FREEDOM* that the propriefoods can never quite imitate.

Stupid, stupid Broblerone. You regret ever downloading that delicious, THC filled candy, and your silent and frustrated mutterings accuse the person who designed it of being an asshole.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22532089
Why don't we look on on omnitube for videos on fashion and what we should wear in this situation.
>>
>>22532296
Actually, why don't we call up Mother and ask when the guests will arrive, and simply ask her to unlock the snacks section of the compilers so that we can properly be a host?
>>
>>22532296
when are guests getting here? I want guests already, damnit!
>>
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>Last Post for a Bit

You are kind of sick of the whole 'no, Icarus, you can't compile that' and the 'no, Icarus, we don't trust you with librefoods.' Dammit, you're nearly 200 kiloseconds old - you're perfectly capable of avoiding things containing illicit substances on your own! You feel like giving your mother a piece of your mind, so you tap her on your communications.

"Moooo~oom!" you moan. You immediately go for the widely utilized pity technique, hoping that your displayed fear of failure will convince your mother to open up access on the compilers. "I need access to a wider variety of snacks for when the guests arrive, or else they won't like it here and I'll make a bad impression and I'll fail as an expeeee~eriment!"

"No," she responds. Her voice is a bit tinny, but filled with come level of blossoming compassion. "I have given you access to foods falling with the guidelines of an optimal diet. What you have access to should be sufficient for the appetites of any biological."

You pout a little. You're clearly not going to win this. Stupid mothers and their stupid logical arguments.

"So..." you begin. "When are they going to arrive?"

There is a pause on the other end for a moment, as the mostly featureless ARvatar of your mother pauses to contemplate the question.

"The agents from firewall will be arriving in your dock in approximately fourteen seconds. They will be carrying with them particularly precious cargo, who will likely be the only individual remaining onsite for a permanent long term basis." You... think she smiles? You can't quite tell, she's not that good at emoting yet. "Think of her as... your new roomate."

There is a buzzing in your ears, warning you of the arrival of you new guests.

"Well," you say. "That's them! Bye mommy!"

>Wat do?
>>
>>22532581
Squee, run to the door and open it with our chesticles.
>>
>>22532581
Dance in joy, run to the dock to welcome them, have some snacks, the tastiest ones our stupid mom allows us, compiled in the rec room, stupid restrictions, welcome our guests, be bouncy and cheerful, invite them to the rec room to relax.
>>
>>22532581
Go down to the dock with our sunniest disposition and welcome our guests, and our *roommate*!
>>
>>22532581
Wait, we're getting a roommate?

..Yay! It was getting kind of boring just being here by ourself.
>>
>>22532581
Go meet them, of course! And wonder what our new friend is like on the way.
>>
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It's back oh my god oh my god. I am so happy.

The IRC channel still exists, and you can find it at #sufficientlyadvanced on Rizon. The image I usually post with the IRC channel already got posted, so have some art of Minaka I got off a drawfag at some point since the last thread.
>>
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You squee a little.

You have a roommate! You have a *roommate*! You don't remember being this excited in since you were decanted - and that doesn't count because EVERYTHING was new then. As you sprint down to the elevator, you try to picture what sort of person that men from Firewall would be escorting to live with you for the long term. Would she be cutesy? Would she like plushies as much as you do? Did she have the same problem with clothing rubbing against your skin that you do?
But why would she be coming with the nice Firewall people - maybe she was a prisoner! Maybe... maybe she was an imperial spy come to put your mother back to that -blank place- she was back before the Firewall people came and woke her up. Maybe they'd have to lock her in a cell and... and... and... *interrogate* her. You shudder, in the fun way.

Perhaps it would be best to continue that train of thought later.

You focus your mind instead on the excitement of actually meeting *people*, rather than just seeing them on audvids, and wonder how you're supposed to act. Unfortunately, your focus isn't cleared until you arrive at the submerisble hangar bay, and you're caught like a deer in the headlights when several dozen pairs of eyes turn upon you.

You take a deep breath to banish your nervousness.

"Welcome to Alpha Site!" you greet them. Your voice is a lot smaller than you remembered it. "I'm Icarus... uh... Daedalus' daughter..." A few of them wave friendily in response.

>Wat do?
>>
Oh sweet, this is back.

Various minor adjustments to stuff I recall for some reason:
-Tony the Muse has the personality of an alcoholic (admittedly a recovering one). Depending on where that falls on the scale between "I need a drink" and "FUCK YOU ANNE YOU STUPID DUMB BITCH", we might wish to change that.
-cut in two to help find what's tripping spam-
>>
>>22534409
Wave, blush, maybe hug the nearest one?
"Um, w-would you like to see a-around?"
>>
>>22534476
Yeah but that in the original timeline thing of which only thing that remains at the moment is Timid Brunette...
>>
>>22534409
Wave at them, vigorously, bounce up and down. "And this is Alpha Site, I already told you that, get it together Icarus, good first impression.

Okay, if you gentlemen will follow me I'll lead you to the Rec Room so you can relax, I prepared some snacks for all of you, they're not good snacks, but that's Mother's fault, not mine, so complain to her, please, tell her to let me make better snacks instead of healthy ones. What are your names by the way, it's rude not to know someone's name.

I heard that you were bringing a roommate for me, can I meet her, is she nice, what's her name, can I hug her? I want to try hugging, it sounds new and interesting."
>>
>>22534476
- Icarus's Muse, Mr... Something, is slated to be installed inside a landsquid. Seeing as a squid is not a teenage girl, it stands a pretty good chance of being eaten. A better solution would be to house the Muse in the arglasses as normal
-again spam-
>>
>>22534489
Wait, what? We rebooted?

>>22534512
but allow it to control the squid by wirelessly commanding a robot brain. Or allow it to migrate into her arglasses, but then we wouldn't have a battle-squid.
>>
>>22534542
Nooooooo~ooot quite.

Anne remembers everything that she experienced from thread one. But she's the only one.

Rick did something. He would like to assure you that it was for the greater good, but if he could see what he did with what he did, he might be doing the epic 9^9^9^9^9^9^9^9^9^9x facepalm combo.
>>
>>>22534489
>Wait, what? We rebooted?
Motherfuck, we did.

Dammit, Rick.
>>
>>22534595
Should have kept the code in Timid Brunette's head. And/or Google Goggles
>>
>>22534409
Become so happy we pass out. Then get back to the Timid Brunette. We need to get back to our timeline ASAP.
>>
>>22534409
Get it together, Icarus!
"The Rec Room is available, and the compilers of the cafeteria are all online and ready.
"And Mother said that there was to be someone stationed long-term here to the Alpha Site?"
>>
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"And this is alpha site..?" you half ask yourself, tilting your head at the crowd. "Maybe I can show some of you around... or bring you up to the Rec Room... uh... Did you know that they had something like sportsball back before the two day war... um..."

You look sort of helpless. None of them are paying much attentions to your ramblings, and you don't really blame them - you're tripping all over your words and aren't doing much to create a good impression. A large, red haired man with a solid bear escorts a young girl who looks every bit as terrified of this situation as you are. You turn a bright red as his musses your hair as though you were a much smaller child than you are.

"Relax, little Icarus," he says. "Why don't you show our... guest... around the base. I'm sure my men and I will be more than capable of finding our way around this place without much difficulty."

He takes the girl's hand from his and gives it to you, chuckling as she immediately latches on to your arm. She gives you this sort of helpless look, as though someone had pulled a rug out from under her feet, and she wasn't able to get up on her own. Giving your hair another muss, he walks back to his men and starts barking orders at them, and they begin to fall in with their equipment.

"'m Veritas..." she mutters into your arm. "Who're you?

>Wat do?
>>
>>22534908
I'm Icarus! Let's go swimming!
>>
>>22534908
Give her a hug, because hugs are new and interesting.

"Hello Veritas, I'm Icarus. I hope we can be friends, I've never had any friends before. Will you be my friend?

Do you want to come up to my room? It's nice and colorful and has stuffed animals. We can have snacks, though my Mother doesn't let me have any of the good ones."

Gently lead her to our room, it's the most colorful place in the Site.
>>
>>22534908
"Hi, I'm Icarus. Let me show you around my, our, home."
'Stupid, stupid Icarus! The knowledge and capabilities of a high-level AI, and you make a fool of yourself in front of the first people you've ever met and get treated like a little kid.'

After all that preparation, and not wanting to be a disappointment to Mother, and failing utterly at it, I think a little internal recrimination is in order.
>>
>>22534908
>A large, red haired man with a solid bear
You know, this is only *probably* a typo.

Accede cheerfully and perform self-introduction! Show Veritas around. (And keep a quarter of an eye on our other visitors -- i.e., keep a feed from the internal security systems up on our goggles so we know what they're doing more or less.)
>>
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"Hello Veritas!" you chirp, internally berating yourself for completely screwing up your introduction to your guests. You give the girl a wide, sincere smile. "I'm Icarus!"

"Pleasure t'meet ya." The girl just buries herself in your arm. You're not quite sure what to do, so you do the first thing that comes to mind. You give her a hug, which she returns almost immediately, nestling her head into your shoulder.

"Wanna come up to my room?" you ask. "It's... uh... really colorful and has lots of stuffed plushies... I could, ah, compile up some snacks if you want, though Mother won't let me make any of the good ones. Something about optimized diets and unhealthy foods. Blech."

She nods into your shoulder, and you lead her on. A feat easier said than done, as you less lead her and more sort of pick her up and carry her over to the elevator. One thing for certain about this girl is that she has a hell of a grip - you have severe doubts that she plans on letting go of you any time soon. It's kind of nice to feel the weight of someone on your shoulders though; you should probably get Mother into this whole human contact thing.

You manage to coax her off of your shoulders into one of the puffy pink chairs you keep in your dome. An eyestalk of the cthulhoid you've given the name "Gl'gluboroth" is watching you from above - you give is a friendly wave, which it returns with it's ten mawed song of greeting. Tea - herbal, as it's the only thing your mother is allowing access to - is ready before you know it, and you set it down on the table.

Veritas hasn't really moved, or done much of anything. She is just sitting there, with a far off look of disbelief.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22534978
This

>>22535378
>You know, this is only *probably* a typo.
It is not.
>>
Rolled 14

>>22535463
Make some chocolate and poke at her until she opens her mouth and shove some in.
Chocolate makes everyone happy!
Or at least not-depressed
>>
>>22535496
>Chocolate makes everyone happy!
>Or at least not-depressed
Or not.
>>
>>22535496
We can't compile chocolate products, thanks to mother's overreaction to the Broblerone incident.

>>22535463
Our experience is admittedly limited, but that kind of unmoving stare is probably a bad sign. Find out what's bothering Veritas, and dispense hugs as appropriate. And as inappropriate, frankly.
>>
>>22535463
Sit down by Veritas, give her a hug, put some tea into her hands so she can sip at it.

"It's okay Veritas, we're friends now, you're my first friend, you can talk to me about anything or not talk if you don't want to. I'll listen and support you, because that's what friends do.

How did you get here? What happened? Why are you sad?"


Simultaneously open a communication with Mother tell her that we need chocolate for emergency comforting and that if she doesn't let us comfort our new friend who needs chocolate than she's interfering with us helping the poor girl and making friends, which is not very motherly.

>>22535496
Mother is stupid and won't let us make chocolate.
>>
>>22535463
Poke her nose.
>>
Rolled 12

>>22535566
Hack some then!
>>
>>22535463
Sit down next to Veritas, put an arm around her.
"Hey, wanna talk about what's bothering you? I've been told that it helps."

And open a channel to Mother.
"Mom, my roommate is all sad and depressed and seems completely out of it. Can I have some chocolate to make her feel better, please?"
>>
>>22535778
>>22535592
And ask Mom for a full dossier on Veritas and her history.
Icarus may be lewd and clumsy when it comes to social interactions with humans, but she's still the daughter of an AI and is competent in the realm of information analysis.
>>
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You know precisely what this girl needs! She needs some chocolate - if your audvids are anything to go by, chocolate makes everyone happy! Or at least, you know, not depressed. Now, if only there was some way for you to easily obtain chocolate, like some sort of nano-scale machine that could... -compile- the atoms of a chocolate bar from base substances to chocolate. You'd use the one you have right now, but your mother won't let you get at any "substances" that she arbitrarily declared "unhealthy".

So instead you poke her on the nose.

"It's okay Veritas!" you say to her. "We're friends now - best friends. You're my first friend, and mother says you're gonna be here for a while, so that means that we're gonna become great friends, okay!" The other girl stares at your finger, before nodding slowly. "And friends help eachother up when they're down, so I'll listen."

Veritas reaches down to pick up one of the plushies. It is a heavily stylized image of a Montie, a rabbit like apex predator from the plainslands near the Armstrong Arcology. It looks little different than an oversized brown stuffed bunny, save that its mouth is lined with sharp, pointy teeth. She hugs it closely as you take your turn to pat someone on the head.

"This is so fucked up..." she mutters to herself.

"What's wrong?" you ask her. "You can tell me."

"Well, to start, my main self excised me from his conscience," she mutters. "Then he went and fucked with my state vector for shits and giggles. Once that was done, he stuffed me in this body and buried me in cryo on a lifeless world." She hugs the Montie tighter. "I've been asleep for nearly eighteen hundred years, and woke up to a universe where everything he feared would come to pass if he didn't have me around has happened."

She looks like she's about to break down.

"Forgive me if I seem a bit shellsho-" You cut her words off with a hug.

>Wat do?
>>
>>22535956
"You don't like this galaxy either? Neither does Mom and our friends in Firewall, and we're going to change it. Now come on, have some tea. It'll warm you up."
>>
Man, didn't we comfort Veritas already in the last universe?

I say we should do whatever it was we did then and go be the brunette. More info on how people and things we've changed seem prudent. Also we might want to see if we can salvage anything with regards to the Polymeric Falcighol Derivation, or reconstruct it or something. Plus if Reimu remembers the old universe, we'll get an interesting team-up. That last bit isn't likely, admittedly, but it'd be pretty neat.
>>
>>22535956
Try not to marvel at the amazing feeling of having someone else smushed up agains us in the most intimate and pleasing way that just makes you want to melt and stay there forever and ever and hug them and be warm and safe and then you get hair up your nose but it's ok because hugs are awesome.
>>
>>22535956
Hold her tighter, pat her head, snuggle up against her, consider taking off our clothes, don't take them off but only because we'd have to stop hugging her for long enough to take them off.

"Shh, it's okay, you're safe now and in good company. You have nothing to be sorry for.

The Universe may be messed up, but Mother and all of her friends are doing their best to help fix it. And we can help too Veritas. But first let's make you feel safe and happy. You're safe here, you're welcome here, you're my first and only friend and I will always care for you.

I'd offer you chocolate and real tea, but my Mother is a bit of an obsessive health nut now that she has me as a daughter. I love her dearly, but I would like chocolate."
>>
>>22536078
It's funny because hedonism. (I vote against this)
>>22535956
Your main self? Continue comfort actions as necessary. Be the timid Brunette after infodump.
>>
>>22536071
We need to be Daedalus to see what we're actually doing right now and what our resources are. That takes priority over events that happened in another timeline that we can't return to.
>>
>>22536210
Actually, I take that first bit back. It is enjoying hugging a mindfucked depressed person who's woken up to an oppressed galaxy (and more to the point, arguably enjoying it too much), but this is her first hug, so it's understandable I guess.
>>
>>22536249
I was seeing this as a 'find way to turn universe back to normal' mini-event, but it might very well be a perma-change.

In which case, yeah, being Daedalus would be our best bet.
>>
>he went and fucked with my state vector for shits and giggles [...] eighteen hundred years [ago]
>eighteen hundred years
>not eighteen hours
Well, looks like we found our nail.
>>
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>Last post for this thread

You hold the other girl closely. Weird biological urges begin to surface, but you supress them. Now is not the time for that."

"You don't like this galaxy, huh?" you ask her. "Well I don't either."

You pat Veritas on the back. She hiccups.

"And neither does mother."

You let the other girl go and look her in the eye, incapable of but grinning viciously. The type of person who could make something like this happen pisses you the fuck off, and a new emotion surges forth. It boils and burns like fire and molten brimstone, bubbling through to the front of your consciousness. You understand it to be rage, or perhaps hatred. Yes. You hate the person who did this to Veritas, even though you have only just met her.

"And neither does Firewall." You let the girl go, and clasp her hand. You search for proper words to convey the emotions you are now feeling to the other girl. "So I'll promise you this - when we break the back of the Empire, when we bring permanent death of self to Emperor Melman, I promise you that you'll have first dibs to piss on his grave."

Veritas turns pale, and her jaw drops for a moment. Then, she breaks out in happy laughter. "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

You smile, and turn back to the tea, refilling your own glass and pouring the laughing girl a fresh one. "Now," you ask of her, "do you like your tea sweetened with honey, or with sugar?"

>Who be?
>Next Thread: Sunday, 1900 EST.
>>
>>22536529
Daedalus.
>>
>>22536529
Be the timid brunette, or the wrathful pinkette
>>
>>22536529
Be the Daedalus. We need to know what we're working with, what's at our disposal, and our current plans.
>>
>>22536529
Be the godlike infomorph.

Unless we're supposed to be finding a way to turn this back to normal, in which case be the timid brunette.
>>
>>22536529
Be Anne.
>>
>>22537209
>>22536587
What information are you looking for in terms of what's different from the old timeline to the new one?
What actually useful information do you think Anne could uncover?
>>
>>22537259
Anne's, y'know, the only one that knows shit's changed. She at the very least needs to hack some shit to get into contact with Daedalus and convince her that things aren't the way they should be before we can use the greater reach of being a massive AI to accomplish anything useful regarding Rick being a genocidal dictator. (I guess that Veritas's debreifing might have mentioned he got a message from the future, but he got rid of her memories back in the old universe, so he probably did so here too.)

And yes, I do beleive that time fuckery is the most efficient way to end the Most High Lord Rick's rule. While it is true that we have a spaceship that is mostly comprised of pure railgun, the Broperium commands the resources of the entire human sector, plus all the space that used to belong to the aliens, plus all the space in between the previous two. So it'll be a little hard doing anything at all useful.
>>
>>22537902
Anne is the only one so far that we know has memories of the alternate timeline.
Daedalus is just as likely to have those memories as well since she also used the Polymeric Falcighol Derivation, which is the only factor that Anne was exposed to that Minaka and Reimu were not.

And going back in time to stop Rick is all well and good, but that just creates another set of problems and unforeseen consequences.
Because even if we stop Rick, we still need to stop the aliens who released the Vonnie threat in the first iteration, otherwise we'll still end up in a position where the whole of transhumanity is threatened. And the next time, there's no assurance that the bug which offered a way to fight the Vonnies will even exist.
>>
>>22538060
Anne had the solution to the Derivation implanted into her brain or something, which is what I was assuming kept memories. Having just used the derivation is another possibility, but I personally don't think it likely since A: Daedalus had to be reprogrammed by Firewall to turn her to their side, and B: Rick would also have sent his memories, and >>22534595 implies he didn't suddenly wake up at the head of the Broperium of Man.

Also, while we would still have to deal with the vonnies, and while they might no longer have the bug, the warships of Rick's navy definitely don't have that bug, and they have a lot better tactics, range, and speed.



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