Maxspells

What about PDA battery lowering as you use it? Like, the more you message people and use apps or whatever the faster the battery discharges. Also, maybe random battery charge levels when you spawn in or come in from lifts might be cool, instead of always being max charge. Part of what I think is so immersion breaking and annoying about PDA's is how everyones PDA dies relatively around the same time and it just makes it feel gamey instead of immersive. Idk just shooting out some ideas

I wholeheartedly support looking at SS14, the unitystation argument is understandable two years ago, but it's crazy to me to just look at 14's rapidly rising current playercount and compare it to the dwindling playercount of ss13 and just be like "Nah this just a phase". Superior engine. Superior coding language. Open source. Sure, it's twenty years behind 13, but it's catching up quick for a reason. Feels like sunken cost fallacy to choose to stick with the dying 20 year old engine. I've been saying it for years. SS13 players are aging out, and new players are flocking to 14. Well has anyone tried? I know a lot of servers don't like IC racism because people historically like to use the "L word" and I have a gut feeling that if that rule exists, it's intent is for that kind of racism, not the kind of high quality setting roleplay that we bring to the table and enforce. Yes, but the alternative is a sunken cost fallacy. There's a reason so many people have been trying to build a new engine for so long. Byond kind of sucks.

+10000 It's about time!

Alright you're unbanned!

This seems genuine so I approve this. We're figuring out how to get you unbanned, we think we need an admin to handle it but I'll let you know when we get it figured out.

Instant +1 from me boss

Oh sick, I love doing gimmicks with people. Zavod is the company I currently know the least about but I am super down to help play other duos with people, I did a family member for a friend of mine that was actually one of the coolest arcs I've ever been a part of like six months ago and have been wanting to step up to the challenge again. For my ideas and gimmicks: I had a funny idea for a group of fangirl Ma'zal pick-me's that start a secret "noble fanclub" on the Horizon, writing fanfiction and cosplaying/LARPing as their favorite Horizon nobles when they are in private. Divorced couple who hate each other's guts but are both still employed on the Horizon and forced to interact with each other. I think this could be infinitely funny as a contrast to all the relationship and marriage RP. The Joy sisters' owned shell, ICSU-Noel. The roleplay would be really hands off on our end, you'd be free to do your own thing. I think the Joys would treat them actually really well outside of making them do their chores and probably cover bar shifts for them, mostly bragging to people that their rich Idris exec dad "totally bought them a shell."

Oh yeah I read in Fyni's reply after I posted mine lol. Could still leave some room to expand on though, like the PDA system they have that lets you see the location of every vendor and it's contents so you don't have to manually walk up and check each one to see what you need to order. (Unless that's already in the game too lol)

What if we expand on this instead by porting /tg/s cargo refilling? On TG codebases, cargotechs can order vendor restocking on the cargo shuttles and manually restock vendors and empty out the money contained inside the vendors. I always thought that was a fun little thing you could do as a cargotech, and here it would work even better given our HRP environment and this persistence code.

One of the primary focuses on being a moderator here is making sure this server is a safe space for anyone under 18. We handle this strictly and usually come down hard on these kinds of things. I feel like being asked politely to knock it off is an extremely non-intrusive example of enforcing this rule. Attempting to springboard off being NICELY told to knock off the genitalia talk into some kind of soap box stance about our rules of "there are children on the server please don't talk about sexual things" not being clear enough for the average player makes this whole complaint feel disingenuous. If you are honestly and truthfully confused about our rules on sexual content, or are having genuine difficulty understanding what topics would be appropriate to bring up in front of children, please refrain from saying anything that might be borderline or ahelp first to check just in case before saying anything that might be borderline. A good standard that could help you would be to view the the server like the very very strict corporate workplace it is in the lore. If it might make your coworkers uncomfortable in a real life example, or get HR called on you for saying it or talking about it, you probably shouldn't talk about it here.

The messhall was dark. Overhead lights flickered as the ballast pumps kicked on, emptying the tanks. The vessel surged upward, and the sudden shift in inertia pressed the two crewmen deeper into their chairs. Beer bottles clinked against the metal table as the men steadied them, bracing for the change in direction. “Fockin’ Gainsbloom’s lost it, mate! He ain’t makin’ it to Trelenje! We oughta take charge now - ’fore he starts screamin’ or tries to drown us all,” said Bassiv, the skinnier of the two. “He’s been standin’ in there fer hours. Ain’t gonna make it twelve more.” He took a swig from his bottle. The man called Emmy just nodded, grunted, and drank in turn. “Fuckin’ hell… ain’t like this one bit. Who’s- y’know- who’s gonna…” Bassiv muttered, before being cut off by the vessel lurching again. The lights flickered as the ballast tanks refilled. The engine whirred, and the submarine shifted, now moving forward. The men steadied their bottles again. Emmy broke the silence. “It’s gonna be Cecil. Ain’t no discussin’ that. Daniil’s runnin’ the helm, and tides know it ain’t gonna be you.” Bassiv stared blankly at the table as Emmy drained the rest of his beer and gave another grunt. “It don’t matter anyway. Ship ain’t ours- it’s Gainsbloom’s. We’s all gonna need new crews. All o’ us.” “And what about the girl? It’s hers now, right? What if she-” “Fockin’ hell, Bas… she’s twelve. She ain’t no hydronaut. And it ain’t goin’ to her anyway. Jim’s ex-, or the dockyard’ll claim it - pawn it off fer dockyard fees after we get our cut. Or… somethin’,” Emmy said, tossing the empty bottle into the disposal unit with a hollow clunk. “Then what about the girl?” Bassiv repeated, whining. “We just… droppin’ her off at the dockyard, then?” The bulkhead whined and swung open. A tall, bearded man stepped into the messhall, wearing a striped shirt and bandana. Slung over his shoulder was the small, curled figure of a crying girl. “Cecil! Welcome back. We were just talkin’ about who’s gonna-” “Not in front of the girl, you fuckin’ halfwit,” Cecil snapped, his glare cutting into Bassiv like a blade. He gently lowered the shivering bundle into a chair and crossed over to the foodstock, retrieving a wafer of hardtack and an apple. He set them on the table in front of her. She had stopped sobbing but didn’t touch the food. Instead, she pulled her legs up into the chair and buried her face in her knees.

A loud creaking rumbled through the hull as the vessel plunged into the black abyss. The man stood in front of the porthole, gazing into the endless dark. He did not stir. It had been six hours now. The vessel pressed onward, beginning its slow ascent. Twelve hours to go until Trelenje. Footsteps echoed faintly as the crew shuffled about belowdecks. Hushed, frantic whispers floated up from the lower levels, occasionally drowned out by the sharp pinging of rhythmic sonar. Still, the man did not move. His eyes never left the glass. His pupils were fully dilated now - coin-sized black circles swallowing the flaking hazel of irises once vibrant and filled with joy. He was tall, lanky, and stringy in build from years of malnutrition and the moon’s low gravity. His mariner’s coat, thick and warm despite being stained with soot and salt, helped conceal the corpse of a man he had become. He had ashed his bone-pipe hours ago but still occasionally drew on the tip, a habitual remnant of the man he used to be. A young girl clung to his leg, sobbing quietly. She shivered, soaking his trousers with tears. Her grip tightened as the footsteps below grew louder. Eventually, a voice broke the silence. “Bloody ‘ell… There you are, Tess,” said a head peeking through the open bulkhead. “Yuh ain’t s’posed t’be here, child. It’s…” He didn’t finish. His eyes found the hollow man standing at the window. “It’s bad luck, aye? Come with me-” he added gently, as he pried the girl loose from the man’s leg. Her sobs grew louder, swelling from a muffled groan into full wailing as he lifted her into his arms and carried her away. The man at the window still did not stir.