Swagbag2

As I recall from the round and the video I had, I wordlessly threw the fragmentation grenade and EMP grenade near the welder tank I setup outside the gun room anticipating a security response. This could have been done a lot better and definitely more believable. Given we were burglar's with a limited arsenal, general equipment, and tools, stealth was our go to off the bat, we stuck to maintenance and hid ourselves from the crew the best we could. As far as it went to escalation, there was no build up on my part. I could have done this in a myriad of ways, leaving a paper outside the cannon room airlocks warning any impeding crew of a booby trap, retaliation, the likes. This would have defined a warning and retaliation to any actions taken. Prior to any hypothetical engagement, other ways I could have done this would have been using my radio after being made known of the security team outside and warning them of a myriad of actions, be it just an empty or real threat (the room you're about to enter without suits is breached, we will sabotage the cannon should you attempt to enter). Given that the security team vastly outnumbered and outgunned us, I would have avoided my escalation from physical, verbal confrontation and stick to escalation attempts to radio, paper, or anything else available. If all these hypothetical warnings or consequential statements failed and there was clearly defined escalation, only then would I escalate to the stated threats or an act of violence of throwing the grenade. Simply put, escalation needs to be stated in some manner with believable intent and fear or consideration of the consequences and actions leading up to it. My decision to wordlessly wipe the security team did not contribute to those player's rounds in a meaningful manner and was a bad use of an antag role and had no defined escalation.

BYOND Key: Swagbag Total Ban Length: N/A Banning staff member's Key: N/A Reason of Ban: I wiped most of security team with a grenade and EMP next to a welder tank during a heist to the Horizon’s cannons. Reason for Appeal: I’ve always enjoyed playing antagonistic characters in many roleplay settings, ranging from scumbags, outright traitors, or simply disagreeable, Machiavellian, or insufferable characters. I’ve found that given the room and freedom that is often limited to a role like traitor, there is much more room to contribute to other player’s story and the direction of a round. I see the all-too-common trope of crew traitors purchasing a gun or weapon and going berserk all too common, predictable. This hardly contributes to a round’s progression, other character’s development, and the world story. Often these characters only initiate a direct interaction with security, while inconveniencing most of the crew. While I am at fault for this specific issue in the past, I’d like to have the opportunity to be trusted with antag roles, so I am able to have more freedom to contribute to the Aurora story and make other players experiences more memorable and interesting. In other settings outside of SS13, I’d focus on characters with realistic goals and arcs that’d build up to an eventual betrayal of the group they were in, many times the betrayal wasn’t black or white or entirely “evil” but a reaction to what the character had been through and what they viewed as their best way to deal with it. In SS13, and Aurora specifically, this can be more limited owing to the shorter rounds. However, I do think there is still plenty of room to contribute to arcs and create compelling and realistic conflict. The trope of a “person with a gun” or events leading up to a shooting with security is all too common and personally, too boring for my taste. I’d like to create conflict that’s more reasonable, but not within the scope of a regular, non-antag crew member. One example I have for traitor is a therapist gaslighting their patient, forging fake documents for an involuntary hold and if caught, not resorting to the all-too-common purchase of a gun with telecrystals, but rather a realistic improvisation that involves other characters and a believable goal.

Grinded bones, soils replenished, dirt of flowers. A beggar’s tale. The reflections in the concrete jungle pathways were beautiful. As captivating as the swirly oils of expressionist paintings, Titus Shaner could lose his mind here. His eyes slowly tracked over the flashy LED reflections in the water, tracing each pulse and flicker with an ecstatic euphoria. It was nice, it felt nice, the absolute captivation of some unknown research chemical searing his veins, and melting his brain, if only for the time being. His eyes managed to move, iris flickering, his fanciful escape returning home to a desolate ruin of concrete, metal, and ruins six feet tall and stories high, decorated with flags of skull and cap, orange and white, independence and banditry alike. Hands revealed themselves, hooded figures, and marauders cloaked with ragged wares and abhorrent weaponry that’d make an insurgent feel fortunate creeped out nearby alleyways. He swore he could hear a shout, a yell – but Shaner could only register strange echoes that brushed against the wind. Eyes followed him, ghastly in appearance, and gaunt around the jaw contour – starved off food, morality, and care. The bandits had no qualm with Titus, and drunkenly sulked back into the twists and turns of bricked alleyways with a manner of a burrowing spider. An echo scrapped and battled against whirls of wind, a flag wave accompanying the noise. “You’re back?” The eyes he could attribute to his face to frantically switched from side to side. Ever so often he’d make out the shape of a figure, sometimes hooded in a black cape, holding a staffed scythe taller than it, other times, a woman with the same tenacity of a Queen, wearing horns and a skull, sulking her gaze with red irises. He liked to think these were companions, comrades, of some sort, rather than signs of his brain devolving into a reboot of psychosis. What was stranger was the odd feeling he lingered for. A feeling of being without being. As if an automation of a human, without thought or existence. He'd occasionally reflect on the feeling when alone. It was something he could worry about when, if, he survived Mars. A byproduct, a damage that was sustainable for now, and only worth mitigating if by some miracle, he was both unfortunate and blessed enough to live to the day he could understand the extent of such a detaching damage. For now, he continues to sally forth, in the footsteps of Cain, both cursed and blessed with his continuous existence among the deserts, bushes, and cloaked marauders.

Snake of Continuity Titus Shaner, 2642, Martian-Solarian Cooperative Refugee Holding Center Prologue Papers shredded, glass turned from shards to speckles and dust, plates thrown, towns transmuted into vestiges of emptiness and anarchy. Identities taken, transformed, forgotten. Days long gone. Shaner was one of those afflicted. His shaky hands were the first thing he saw upon awaking in the underbelly of an apartments staircase. Every so often, one of the red emergency lights would splutter as if clinging to life, some transmissions of power still miraculously sending the last gasps of grid power to it. Titus, like those others, was shredded, turned into shards, transmuted into a constant state of flight or fight – or death. After some contemplation, Shaner pushed himself up, dust and glass shards sticking to his palms. He wiped his hands against black pants, sighing as he wiped a hand across his palm. His eyes revealed the scenery he had largely forgotten about. Neo Deco Martian scenery, burnt palm trees, and LED panels with no light or advertisement. The apartment pool floors below were devoid of water, courtesy of thirsty survivors with no qualms for drinking chlorine and algae. The staircase held some bottles, empty rations, and what was left of his dignity. He grabbed his few remaining belongings and hastily retreated down the stairs, passing wrappers, syringes, and the odd bullet casing. He landed his feet at the entrance lobby, scanning the horizon carefully, listening to the noises. A hellish orange-black horizon and an occasional storm echo wailing like a gods wail. He nods, and sulks to the broken gates. Years prior, this was a complex for the Martian upper class; he found it strange that a junkie now walked amok the empty halls, doing as he pleased. Every so often he’d find the scraps of the inhabitants room, coffee pots, the occasional stash, plates, silverware. He could remember sitting in one of the room’s living spaces, he did a ritual of laying out plates, imported silverware, even a cup with but an ounce of filtered water. As he stared at his own plate, the plate juxtaposed to him, he meditated on what that life must have been before the fires. What was their day like? Perhaps their coffee was their reason for getting out of bed, perhaps their reason was to work for a better home. He smiled weakly, of course – such thoughts were too simple. People had more aspirations, hate, love, desires even, for waking up. His was more than just survival, and his plate and mind were both empty, devoid of but a crumble of identity or existence.

Absolutely, it seems fair to take someone with a note history like me with a bit of caution to say the least. I'm willing to play much more carefully and absolutely abide by the rules this time around, I've matured quite a bit over the last two - three years as an adult.

BYOND Key: Swagbag Total Ban Length: Permanent. Banning staff member's Key: Evandorf. Reason for Appeal: Playing on a server with an RP setting, I am expected to follow the rules to ensure other players have a good experience. What's the point of RP if I ruin another person's round, ICly or OOCly? I have no explanation or valid reasoning for bombing departments and my notes really don't pick a good picture of me as a player on Aurora either, but after getting involved in the CM community for a couple years led me to appreciate what roleplay is through bonds I formed with people on there. I'm at fault for my actions and my history on this server, no one else is at fault, after much thought I've decided to put up this appeal and return as a better player and actually experience roleplay in a higher setting than what's currently on Colonial Marines That's really all I have to say, thank you.