dessysalta

TL;DR This was an amazing arc. So, I unfortunately wasn't there during the finale (sad) but I was for a couple of the events along the way; even outside of the events themselves it felt very oppressive, in a good way. The change in atmosphere from "we're terrifying corporates" to "we're fish in a barrel and there's a bear down the block" was so good, and from the radio signals to little hints from staff to even just the way the ship's crew played it, it felt real. I loved the hell out of it, personally. On a command level, it was a lot of fun. I know IC suggestions were more supposed to be a few sentences here and there (at least I assume so), but getting to write a whole bunch on the forums and see other people do so in turn was awesome. It was cool as fuck seeing people let out their more traditional writing styles for this event, in combination with stuff experienced in-game. (Shout out to Ksshzue "PUT ME IN A POD AND FIRE ME AT THEM!" Hiza LMAO) The events themselves were really good; I don't think the arc felt super high budget but I don't think it felt low budget as described, either. It was a departure from the massive custom maps we usually get for events, but honestly I don't think that was a negative at all. It was nice to see stuff goin' on and the staff made it so much more worthwhile with the inclusion of little features and hints (which yes, I'm touching upon again because it was so cool to see people chime in with "hey, this radio station is telling us to go here, let's check it out!"). It goes to show that we don't need a ton of custom things to make a really good arc that leaves so many characters changed before, during, and after it. Onto the nitpicks: I really don't have much to say other than to echo the slot problem. When I showed up for the first event, it definitely felt like there was too much competition for all the slots and as a result I got just a little bit sidelined (though command remedied the issue by putting me in an auxiliary role, which was a new and fun experience). Though, this is more of a long-standing issue and not so much one applicable to only this event. All in all, I loved it. From making my characters scared and giving them new motivations, to being enveloped in the little touches and atmosphere set both by staff and the players, it was just good. More like this, please. EDIT: Oh, and the amount of off-ships and antagonists that were inspired as a result was fucking awesome.

INITIALIZING BOOT SEQUENCE... UPDATING DRIVERS... WORKING... ...COMPLETE. WELCOME, CONTRACTMONGER YOU HAVE ONE (1) NEW MESSAGE. OPEN? (N) >>> (Y) DISPLAYING INFORMATION: ... ... The display flickers as it swaps from unicode characters to a video screen. Not ASCII characters that rapidly swap to give the illusion of a video, but a real video. You're surprised the monitor works at all, surprised to see it after so long, and surprised whatever this message is hasn't been corrupted. It's been a couple of years, at this point, and would have been more if not for the favors you pulled after selling that purple gold you managed to snake out. God, was that a pyrrhic victory. You were alive, though, the only one that hadn't been killed or captured- it made you grateful, if particularly bitter and a myriad of other things. No time to mourn. You watch as the video flickers to life... ... It's the Wolf Den. You can recognize the background noise, that harsh gruff-puff of steam and failing water pipes being fixed, turned off, turned on, and being fixed again. It was something that drove several crew nuts, nuts enough that they had to be jettisoned out before they caused a ruckus or, heaven forbid, tipped off those pricks near the Hegemony and caught the attention of Kataphracts. Though, it wasn't a room you recognized. This one was spacious compared to the crew bunks, about the size of a college dormitory and filled to the brim with various punk, rock, and anti-corporate paraphernalia along the walls—not to mention the stray cans of booze and horribly-made bed. On the bed was a darkskinned woman with glorious, cybernetic, and golden eyes. Her hair was long, black, and curly—incredibly curly. You instantly recognized her, at least—Olivia Sanchez. She was your captain. Was being the key word, though you didn't need to linger upon that fact for very long as she broke the silence of the video, blowing smoke from her cigarette. "Hey. If you're watching this," She pauses, leaning forward with a bit of a smug smile on her face. "I'm dead. Took 'em fuckin' long enough!" She laughs boisterously, starting strong and slowly inching towards nervous, before finally landing on dry, upset huffs. "I'll keep it a hundred. I knew this was gonna happen. I wish I didn't, but shit, it probably had to. I'd like to say I've made my peace with it, but I really haven't." A flick of the wrist, and the cigarette flies off screen. The pirate captain opens her mouth to say something, then mutters something particularly obscene as she hops up from the bed and pats something just out of view several times. When she comes back, she has a morose, possibly irritated look. "Haven't learned that, either, it looks like. Magazines catch fire, who knew?" The air hangs for a second. It's awkward, watching her shift back onto her bed and cross a leg over the other. For thirty seconds, it looks like she's trying to find a comfortable position to sit in, all the while stop-starting and trailing off from her sentences. "...I know one of you'll see this first, so I'ma be a real pisser and not name any names- you know who you are. Real quick, Robot-Kisser, you were my favorite. I hope you find that Z.I. or whatever the fuck it was you were interested in- and to my dear, sweet Hairline, you are the meanest motherfucker I've ever met. I love you like a brother, man." This chuckle is a little more genuine; longer lived. You almost don't notice the tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. "The rest of you, I love you, too, but I'ma not say that shit here because I know this is the only holotape we can afford and it is shiiit, so we only got a few minutes on it." She shifts a bit, leaning forward. "If you were expectin' business in this tape, you're wrong. It's gonna be me lamentin' and feelin'. Y'know, like how I said I don't. I guess this'll be the only time I'm really open, at least when I'm not drunk or high off my ass." This pause is much longer. For a crude tape—and the emphasis this woman just placed on that fact—you're surprised to see it run a minute of silence, followed by a few seconds of her lighting up again. "I need one or all of you to say sorry for me. I'm assuming you were caught, seeing as it'd be divine intervention if only I died. So to our last few guys, or whoever else makes it out, or fuck it, all of you if you managed it and I just went and kicked it for whatever reason, there's a letter taped to the underside of my desk. Maybe it's space dust, now, but if it ain't by the time you're watchin' this, I want you to send it to my mom. I know, I know, I said no outgoing mail for a reason, at least not when we're fucked off from the Badlands, but this is important." She pulls from her cigarette, licks her lips, then repeats: "It's important. I need them...I need her to know I'm not a monster. She's one of Salvo's girls, she'll get it, I hope. Then again, Biesel might have burned her place down, so if there isn't an address..." Another stop-start as she trails off, rubbing her face. This time she puts her cigarette out on the ground. "...Alright, I lied, I do have business for you." The woman stands, grabbing the camera and repositioning it. After several seconds of blurriness, it clears to reveal a detailed map of the Horizon, decks, hardpoints and all. "This big fella. I said we were gonna hit it, right? Hell, maybe we did, I dunno how I died. If I go out, I want you to hit the fuh-huck out of the thing. You hear me? I've got a safe under my bed- the code is six-one-four-two. It has credits up the ass. Plenty to cover a few loans for killbots and probably enough to get a few more people on our payroll. Get everyone you can, and head to these coordinates." Numbers flash on the screen, too fast to read...the terminal interprets them as soon as they're finished. "It's an armory. One last ditch effort. Rob the fuck out of it. I don't even care what you steal, take one of their crew members, robots, fuckin' coffee maker- anything. I want those corpos bled until they can't bleed and then squeezed so you can suck out the drops. Fuckers deserve it for what they fund back home." Olivia grunts, steps in front of the screen, and gestures to various different points on the Horizon vaguely. A moment later, she's pointing at the screen. "And don't give me shit about it being a suicide mission! We've hit bigger and worse than them. I want them to feel this. I know you all do, too. Besides, I'm paying the fuck out of you and have been for years. This is my last wish, honor it or I'll haunt the fuck out of you. Capiche?" Yet another pause. Something seems to be setting in as she paces back and forth; you can hear it in her tone. She's angry. Afraid. "Better yet, make it a contract. Tell our buddies in the Sparring Sea we've got plans and they can get in on the loot if they lend a hand. Forward it to sixty-four-tan and get a black market hitman or two. Find a particularly pissed off cat that wants to scratch something, I don't care. I bet the Horizon has a ton of enemies that'd like to see it go up in flames. So fuck, if you're watching this and don't know me, consider it a bounty, too." The laughter returns. It's like she never left. "It's my wish, dammit. Honor it or I'll haunt you. Scrape-face, I know you'd prolly do it for free. So do it." After wiping her tears and heaving out one last sigh, the video cuts to black.

I still think this would be a bridge too far and would raise concerns consistent with elf ear stuff. It's just...bizarre. There are better ways to accomplish a charging port than putting it in the most inconvenient place and making it a long, dangling thing that could have some weight behind it. It's not just inconvenient in industrial settings, I could easily see someone causing damage to a robot by stepping on it, or having it get caught under a shopping cart, stuff like that. In terms of emulating biological stuff, it would need to be emulated in a strictly practical manner. The reason we have tentacle grips is (if I remember correctly) they're really good at gripping but really not much else, and IPCs aren't meant to be used for strictly gripping and carrying stuff. We're also talking about it being 4 centuries in the future with extremely advanced tech that's meant to be impossibly compact and highly efficient. Analog plug tail doesn't really give off those vibes, in the midst of other potential problems. Sure, but these are IPCs we're talking about. They're meant to be mechanical and have strong themes of humanity's inverse. Tails lump them in with other species categorically, and as Evan said aren't as grounded as some other additions for different species.

I don't really know how to engage this because I don't want it to come off as "I dislike it so I don't want it", but what I can say off the top of my head is that I think it would clash with the direction of Aurora since it's somewhat gimmicky and impractical; I feel like the response you'll get is a similar one to what's been said about animal ear cosmetics and clothing items. A retractable cord is whatever and IPCs already have that, but positioning it behind them just makes it inconvenient, I would think. Tails were evolved because there weren't very good ways to keep animals balanced otherwise without making a huge sweeping change, at least off the top of my head. Insofar as that, it raises the question of why a design company would choose a very obviously animalistic and biological design for something that could be easily done otherwise. Like mobility frames. They have the same motors/possibly even stronger ones, just a much lighter casing. They don't really need a tail to function, unlike Unathi which are incredibly dense just as a result of being an organic. I think it encroaches on species lore to some degree, but I don't think I could articulate why past clashing with the aforementioned themes and direction. I don't think this is a bad suggestion, I just would struggle to see it in game and furthermore struggle to take it seriously if it was ever implemented. I do think something similar you might be looking for/might accomplish the same thing is nonhuman and bizarre legs and arms, of which I know Noble was working on some concepts for the former since awhile ago (though it hasn't been pitched yet, since they'd like to pitch it with all of the sprites and proof of concepts rather than just the idea).

file in, goon squad

Just an idea, can we add a unique box that's along the lines of "feel free to just kill me with no build up if you need to accomplish a gimmick"? Would be fun to opt into that and then get turned into red mist in a second and watch the scales tip/the rest of the crew lose their shit.

To repost what I said with a more visibly-casual tone, I think I'd be very upset if someone tried to lower the slots of my most-played departments. Gameplay goes hand in hand with roleplay (hence this being a video game you can play and not a server you only write in), obviously, but this wouldn't accomplish anything worthwhile. I echo what was said about it really just pulling the fun out of things; bluntly it'd just reduce role availability in an environment where roles to play can already be hard to get, not factoring in things like time of day and general availability on an individual basis (jobs etc). Personally, I've found it more difficult to engage with Aurora as of late because of the increase in population. I like the increase in population, it's nice to see the thing filled, but I also dislike losing rolls and then having to play in a wholly different department or a role where you have absolutely no authority and can't be given any. It's a hard sell just by virtue of reducing the player count. One thing I will say again is that I do think this change is very anti-roleplay. From the points mentioned above to what Mr. Popper said about medical's environment and associated playerbase, this is at best a band-aid fix and more likely a change that will exacerbate a recurring if not growing issue. I think there are better departments to focus on than engineering. I personally have found that engineering is pretty much a perfect split between roleplay and gameplay. I think sec is also pretty good, though more dependent on gameplay. Operations on the other hand, or the more substantially spoken about science could use more content well before we start cutting into the rest—as much as a plan for them might be out of scope of this thread. Generally, I don't think any slot in any department should be cut down. As others have said, if the problem is the content, then add more content. If it's the players, then correct the players. Maybe do both in one go, I dunno how development works but I have an idea of how some things could work, but this is a huge change even without getting into all of the niche aspects of it. Worst case scenario, I don't want this to turn engineering into an extremely gameplay-first-roleplay-second environment, nor do I think job selection should be more competitive in any department than it already is.

Kira E. Vazquez, Head of Security: "Appreciate the responses and comments regarding my ideas. For some clarification: I'm suggesting we perform a long-range jump once we get to the diagonal; I spoke with a couple technicians up top and they told me it'd take two of the three or so leaps in our budget, all things bein' equal. I think leaving one in our reserves once we're halfway through the system should be fine enough, and it's unlikely we don't find a gate system to get us the hell out of here in that amount of time. S'pecially not if we're hittin' the ones with signals first and foremost. "Still, we can maybe funnel in some supplies from derelicts—but I've been in barely-habited space before, and when we're talking providing for a cruiser that has several thousand lives aboard, the idea is that we pick up anything that isn't nailed down and come back with a hammer. Except with that gaggle of fun-runners behind us, we won't have any time to come back at all. Radio transmissions, dyin' or lively, means real activity for better or worse. Where there's still people, we can get more than poor meals and scrap metal. "I need to emphasize that the reason ships of our caliber are able to last so damn long is because we find a place to hunker down, that or we don't dilly-dally. Can't do the former, gotta do the latter. Like I said, I foresee us using up food and ammo even in the quieter parts of the spiral, and if we're out by the time we come across a real threat... "Tch. Well, we know what happens next. So let's not take the passive route."

The room is cool, still scraped and no less than "dinged up" from all of the commotion just a night before. Your hands, now smooth and burdened with the anxiety of aftermath and no longer shaking from the rumbling of your radio and gunfire, find the terminal's side and press down the button to boot. It whirrs, sputters, and then finally turns on. You briefly wonder if the engineers will get around to fixing it, seeing as they have their work cut out for them for the next few weeks. You dismiss the thought and focus on the task at hand; a few flicks of your fingers, and you play the tape. It's a holovid, saved locally. Records show it was recorded only an hour ago. First is the map, with a few colorful indicators here and there that estimate fuel cost and supply usage. A sigh weaves its way out of you. It's several weeks less than you were expecting, and your stomach rumbles at the idea of being stranded. Before you can navigate to the sectors themselves and order deep-scans, a camera overlay awkwardly slides on top of the projection. Kira E. Vazquez, Head of Security: "Good lord, what the hell did I miss while I was down here?" The short-haired Mictlani woman is still half-dressed, in fact dressing herself as she turns on the camera, funneling herself into a black tank-top and adjusting her shades. She hasn't showered in a few days from the looks of her hair, with a prominent bruise on her shoulder. She's still in her corporate apartment, with all the Solarian paraphernalia you'd expect. "Listen," She grunts, leaning against the doorway with her good arm as she bandages the purple-black splotch. "I've been down this road before, and it doesn't end well. Shit, I'd say it ends pretty badly if we don't play our cards right," As soon as she's finished, she walks off-screen for a few seconds. By the time she returns, she's wearing her iconic authority cap and holding a beer. The label is Virklunder, a limited edition bottle given some space creature or another plastered on the front. "So lemme give you my elevator pitch." The console lets out a few unhappy blips as it pans to the pirate cruiser, then hums more casually upon flicking to Beta Marax II. The commander points a finger at the camera, and on top of the map appears an away-facing hand gesturing to the sector. The holograms are a lot more defined than the shallow camera view plastered overtop. You can see the scars on her knuckles. "Here. Let's be honest, we've got just about fuck and all in the way of supplies from hereon, but as we are now is probably the best we're going to be for the foreseeable future. Even counting derelicts or whatever shoddy, half-failing, staffed-by-a-zombie stations, it's a near-zero chance of surpassing our current shortage." Kira pauses to take a sip, breathing out from her nose as the disgruntled expression softens a bit. "So, we hit the occupied sectors hard. I don't know what those signals are—could be an oasis as much as it could be hivebots—but if we lounge about in these coming weeks, eating our way to the floor, we'll be in even worse condition when we inevitably come into another gang of idiots wanting to poach us. We'll run a course from Marax-Two, to Marax-One, hit a jump to Berkley-Seventy-One, and then shift over to Xar'Qui-fifty-two." She pauses and lets it sit, and as she does the system map runs a few calculations; the console hums, buzzes, and then shudders as the hologram updates with the proposal. Beta Marax II, Beta Marax I, jump diagonally to Berkley 71, resume course at Xar'qui 52. "It's risky," The commander takes another sip of her beer. "But if we head to two empty sectors and lose the food we have, we'll be fighting on empty stomachs and half-wits. Better to floor it while we still have the option, yeah?" The holomap distorts, crinkles, then disappears. What remains is the flat camera view, expanding a bit to allow for a more crisp image of Vazquez, who's setting her beer down in favor of a cigarette. Faint groaning can be heard from a body in the background—given the golden hair, it looks like her wife. "Don't forget: We're still the Horizon. That's the Stellar Corporate Conglomerate. We've got plenty of manpower and guns. For now." One last pause, then a sigh. "Let's make use of 'em before we get eaten alive by those pricks back South of us." As the camera, too, flickers and threatens to cut out, the commander mutters under her breath: "Mierda." The holovid finishes, pausing on the last frame before finally fading back to the desktop.

Everything about what I said on Rookie's unathi app applies here; amazing roleplayer. I'll also tack on wonderful mechanics, so I bet they'll pass the command whitelist with flying colors. +1