I am sitting in one of the disused but quite beautiful parts of the neighborhood, waiting for it to rain.
The rain has already come and gone, a light rain that left traces of dampness on the pavement – the shade of the spring day darkens, becomes real, which is a comfort because that realness, that feeling of extra substance, comes from the water cycle working the way it's supposed to.
I feel it around my nostrils, on the cheeks of my face near the eyes, like I'm a frog looking up from its pond water, which is a pleasant feeling to sashay around town with. This is the spring we all know, the moisture appearing on my skin after driving miles above the earth ten minutes earlier –
an epic plunge is what we are walking through, but it's already rising again, and let's face it – we live in a cook pot set on media, I mean medium – medium is the setting on the cook pot, which notice is more than a crock. From the frog’s point of view, it is ideal.
From our point of view, standing in the chop of the water cycle, we are soaring in the air – then minutes from now, we might be walking in the clouds, and who knows after that, but this is the context for comings and goings this mid-afternoon – this potential for levitation.
I find a broad and elegant tree stump to sit on and record the concrete. Someday we'll all have concrete recorders but today, we just have me.
The stumps are not indigenous to the property, at least I don't think so, but I'm not exactly sure why I don't think that, given that the facility that occupies the block was once probably a forest with abundant marshy places. The forest went, then some infrastructural evolution played out that upcycled into a world-class performing arts center.
Given that my art, before it is anything, is performative – watch the monkey paint words with a stick – I'm hand-in-glove with the performance of the plaza.
I am sitting in a grove of tree stumps, which automatically brings to mind entropy – we all will die someday, become handsome all-weather furniture that slowly disintegrates – but then the overwhelming pleasantness of the day causes the thought to move on, and the stumps become a moment in time that is also a cross-section of full biography, which is quite a thing to be sitting on, waiting for the rain.
The forecast, which I predict would be one of the more impressive modern achievements to the humans who lived through the ice age – just an opinion. The forecast –
I picture their faces in stunned wonder as weather prediction after weather prediction comes true. The forecast
says there is a one-hundred percent chance of rain later this afternoon, time precise to the quarter hour, but with Doppler weather radar, one can make one's own data-driven prediction about when the rain will start to the nearest few minutes.
Someday we'll wear watches that are nothing but countdown clocks ’til the next time the forecast calls for rain – when the clock reaches the nearest minute, it switches to seconds.
This broad, elegant stump I'm sitting on sets on a bed of gravel which, when it rains, can convince me it is river gravel – pick up a few of the rounded stones, give them a close look for evidence of the past. I briefly imagine
finding the remains of a sauropod, each piece of gravel containing a tiny piece of a single sauropod, which together add up to the most complete sauropod skeleton yet discovered.
The stump is all take and no give, and yet I think I prefer it to popping open a lawn chair – the imperviousness of the stump being conducive to recording the concrete.
My backside is about eighty-years wide, which is older than my age, which inspires thoughts about backing into predestination, at least where just sitting around on a fine spring day is concerned. Like a bump on a log in a way, and let's face it – the concrete doesn't get much more concrete than that. A splashing sound
comes from the page. I scan the paper like it’s the sky, and I'm waiting for an aerial firework to open, then I find the spot of rain splashed across the phrase think so – think so, is the phrase – which is followed by a second raindrop, this one hitting the word water, causing the ink to run a little.
A one-hundred percent chance – does that even make sense? I picture a barrel of rain, rolling across the plains. Perhaps we should feel lucky for being visited by such a probability – possibly years before it rolls around again.
Rain will undoubtedly fall at this time, we say to our ice-age guests, and they will hold up the one hand like it's rain, hold up the other like it's time, weigh the two sides side-by-side maybe, maybe invent that gesture where the dancer holds both palms above their heads, lifts them up and down like they're raising the roof.
Still, I'm not sure they'll really understand all those computer models, wrapping themselves around big-data projects involving sensors and rain gauges deployed across the land, starting centuries ago. Science raised the roof, we might say, at least as far as weather prediction is concerned.
I sense the rain not exactly letting up, retreat to the interior of the performing arts center after taking a few notes.
Along part of the gravel is a long puddle of water from the overnight rain, and I would need but a few fish bones or raccoon tracks to believe the whole thing was situated beside a river, the sort of gravel bed surging with snow melt earlier in the season.
This being the Midwest, higher elevations are usually metaphorical, metaphorical before they are anything else, and I think about the campus surging with graduates this past weekend, the landscape of human potential, in all directions, inundated by them.
Inside now, I see a balloon bouquet along one wall of the concourse, with gold Mylar affirmation – The Best Is Yet to Come! – floating on the end of a ribbon.
A one-hundred percent chance of rain – imagine telling all those graduates, you have a one-hundred percent chance of finding love within a fortnight. Call it a graduation gift, then imagine all those rain gauges quivering in their brackets at the thought of measurements certain to be made, collated, used to improve the algorithms that animate the global gods of rain.
At the far end of the concourse, a lady is teaching a gentleman how to dance – they aren’t touching, aren’t even facing each other – side-by-side – and I hear her call out the moves, move-by-move.
Maybe he’s an actor and she’s going over a certain bit of choreography for an upcoming production. Maybe he’s a restless spirit, and she’s teaching him the art of haunting.
That ghost forest in the gravel outside is adjacent to one of the busiest intersections on campus, and yet, turn your back to it, and it becomes just another element in the stopping and starting of the cosmos.
I could see to either end of the block from that broad, elegant tree stump I was sitting on without really being seen from the street which, along with a lush stand of grass in a nearby raised garden bed, brings to mind the wide-open prairie from centuries past.
I picture deer bounding over golden rod. I picture foxes negotiating cone flowers.
The interior of the performing arts center is designed around the premise of potential – four theaters in league with the cardinal directions, plus a blindingly white amphitheater and a low stage in the concourse itself, where they hand out complimentary spliffs and pass around community bongs during free upbeat life-affirming musical programs, attended by folks after the workday is over, plus a helping of retirees.
Okay, not grass but alcohol, but you get the point – people enjoy shindigs now and then. The lady and gentleman are out of sight, but she’s still giving direction – I can hear their back and forth somewhere around the curve in the wall,
which might stand for the passing of time. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back. I imagine myself performing the pasodoble – no, I take it back! For real this time! I imagine myself destroying the pasodoble – no, god, my boot heels! The planks on the floor! I take it back!
The sun returns, so I pick up my things, head back out to that secluded space, spend a few minutes admiring the resoundingly designed program of the building.
Preformed white concrete panels are suspended twelve feet off the ground to establish the roof of the entrance. Ninety-degree angles abundantly in evidence. Brick pixelates the angled outer walls with the stuff of the earth. Ultra-high resolution, they call it around the masonic lodge.
Someone in the amphitheater is having their photo taken by a professional – everyone loves to do photo shoots there. She is wearing dark knee socks, a navy jumper and a blue bowl haircut, or maybe it’s a wig – I can’t tell from here. I picture anime or promotional material for this fine spring day.
A squirrel bounds through the grass – then poses in front of me, paws together, as though summoning oration.
A robin alights on the stone cladding of the raised beds, begins to stand exclusively on its left leg. The leg is angled under the center of mass – it’s a practiced move.
No one knows why the American robin does this – maybe it’s like bird meditation, though the memory of the American robin is so specifically extraordinary when it comes to navigation and geospecific locations that effectively, at the sensual level on up, it is living in a reality separate from our own, so who knows what meditation might mean.
They can see the magnetic fields of the earth in their eyes using a protein called cryptochrome, which reacts to magnetism. Cryptochrome – like something from the Marvel universe.
Maybe when the American robin stands on its left leg, it’s spacing out to the daytime reality of solar storms, the whole environment all aflutter with a phenomenology of waves passing around the material world.
The robin and the squirrel go their separate ways, and I feel the temperature drop – ah, me! the pasodoble! – as the next part of the front crosses campus.
A peel of thunder indicates the breaking of the sound barrier by means of electromagnetism and the displacement of gasses. Electromagnetic properties experience disequilibrium as a kind of earthquake in the sky that causes the air to vibrate in an awe-inspiring way – the sound magnetic fields make when they rearrange themselves in a gaseous atmosphere.
We are fluid dwellers, through and through, we humans and mammals and reptiles and amphibians and lichen gnawing on patches of the plaza’s concrete. Maybe from the standpoint of the atmosphere, land is just one big coral reef.
When that perfect destiny began to drop rain, the sound at first was curious, expectant – an all-squinty-eyed-and-kissy-faced sort of rain began to fall that grew into a snowy hum that seemed to have a simple song playing inside it, like someone playing a ukulele in the room next door, singing along.
The gig carries on for twenty minutes or so – an opening act – before the rain begins to march double time through the streets – barely soldiers even when they were soldiers.
Less tactic and more matador, this rain storm, and its boot heel crashes down on the planking of the still-lovely spring day. These magnetic storms are not
for war making, nor fighting bulls, nor even for entertaining that cosmic bird called the American robin. What are they for then?
American robins also configure their flight by the stars, by remembering features on the land, by creating mental maps of it all.
And they swim with both grace and endurance, as they navigate this liquid world, this concrete way of life.
In the moment, they are roosting in a tree, observing the silver magnetic waves marching through the streets. Made of what? The pasodoble! Concrete.

Imagine my horror when, driven my nostalgia, I decided to dig up her grave and uncovered a miniature human skeleton instead.

[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]
The annoying sound of her comlink made Angela Angus Kusumoto open her eyes.
All she saw was the firm, smooth flesh of Kimoko's thigh.
Groaning, she pushed the other woman's leg off of her face, twisted to get Raul off of her own legs, then wiggled out from under Geoff.
The ringer kept going, flashing the red pulses that let her know it was urgent.
As if the fact her unlisted encrypted and non-network accessible comlink was ringing wasn't enough to let her know that it was urgent.
She stumbled, tripping over Harker's leg, which just made the male shift and mutter, tightening his sleeping grip on Liselle, who sighed and wiggled into the embrace.
Angela's mouth tasted terrible and she stopped to grab a fizzybrew, checking to make sure nobody had dropped a cig butt into it or spit chaw into it, then she took a long drink off of it.
It helped cure the fire in her belly and wash out the taste from her mouth.
She saw the ID of the caller and held back a groan.
Senior Supervisor Bisa-2291873.
Her direct supervisor.
She picked up the comlink, running one hand through her pixie-cut hair to try to tame it. She could feel the stiffness of something crusted in her hair and held back a chuckle and a grin.
"Kusumoto here," she said, activating the link.
"I need you at Master Control," Ms. Bisa said. She was holding a small infant, bouncing it slightly as she patted its back with firm impacts as it cry/sobbed and kicked its little feet.
"The system's been crashed for a week, what's so important you'd call me in during my R&R?" Angela asked.
"System's back online. We've got an open line to Terra and we have an open line to Smokey Cone," Ms. Bisa said.
The infant gave a loud belch that rattled Angela's comlink speaker, then sighed and relaxed.
Angela nodded, fumbling on the table for a quiksober inhaler.
"That anomolous signal is back. It showed up right as the entire system underwent a hard reboot," Ms. Bisa said. "I need you up here to check the network interface logs and do a network mapping trace."
The quiksober burned as she inhaled it, her lungs aching and tingling as the chemicals crossed the air to blood barrier.
"I'll be there as soon as possible. Is the mat-trans up?" she asked.
Ms. Bisa shook her head. "No. Still locked out. It did a power cycle, but then locked everything out."
"I'm telling you, there's someone controlling it. Someone has been controlling it," Angela said, looking around for her clothes.
Clothing was scattered everywhere, as chaotically arranged as the fizzybrew and narcobrew cans and bottles. She sighed, moving toward the exit of the house she was standing in.
"Hurry up, I've got a skycraft landing near you any time now. You've got permission to use the fast-locks," Ms. Bisa said.
"I'll get dressed from the forges on the skycraft," Angela said. "If they've rebooted."
"They're up and running again. The food forges rebooted but stayed unlocked," Ms. Bisa said.
"The creation engines?" Angela asked, opening the door and stepping out into early 'morning' sunshine.
"Still locked out," Ms. Bisa said. Someone said something that the comlink's AI decided might be classified and blurred out. Ms. Bisa looked away, said something, her lips fuzzing, then back. "Hurry, Angela."
Angela nodded, shutting off the comlink.
She ran to the nearest parking lot, just in time for a skycraft to land, the graviton engines howling.
Nobody paid the slightest attention to the naked woman running for the skycraft.
After all, what happened in Vega-Layer stayed in Vega-Layer.
Angela walked out of the elevator, taking a long drink off of the sparkling snap-berry/overdate motor oil fizzybrew from the Jak the Telkan PI merchandise cup.
All of the crews were at their stations, the auxiliary stations fully manned.
Ms. Bisa moved over to Angela, steering her toward the Senior Network Administrator console.
"The system crashed twice more, but rebooted every time," Ms. Bisa said. "That anomalous signal keeps powering up, then the system reboots after the crash."
"How long between total failure and the anomalous signal pinging nodes?" Angela asked.
"Between one and four hours," Ms. Bisa said. She looked around. "It just reboot and looks like it's here to stay this time. The interpolation layer and the outside user exchange layer crashed several times, but the core system has stayed largely online."
"All right," Angela said, looking around. "We need to get a network map."
"We've got more nodes synching up. The whole system is working again," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela nodded, sitting down. The holotank on the other side of the console went live.
"Map the network, see what's come online, what order, and see if you can figure out why it keeps crashing at the upper network and software layers," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded, lifting up the curled memory-metal cable. She plugged it into her temple and felt the options menus go live in her mind.
She worked fast, mapping what she could. At one point she stopped, staring at Ms. Bisa and motioning her over.
"What?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Something in the system, down in the lower hardware layers that we don't even really understand, is trying to reach up through the damaged layers. Looks like whatever it is wants access to our data lines," Angela said.
"Can you stop it? Maybe at least ID it?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela shook her head. "No. It's ID code is FF00, meaning it's baseline full on hardware backbone code," Angela sighed. "It probably boots up outside of and during initial hardware bootup."
"Is it Sekhmet?" Ms. Bisa asked.
Angela closed her eyes, looking at the data channel. "No. Whatever it is, it's old."
"And probably nasty. Be careful of it," Ms. Bisa said.
"Ma'am! Ms. Bisa!" another of the work crew called out.
Angela opened her eyes to see why Technician Carl Neubanker would be using that slightly concerned tone.
"Yes?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"We've got a priority data request from a Confederate military vessel," Neubanker said. He looked at his monitor. "They want clone matrix data, neural templates, physical makeup, DNA workups, the whole nine yards."
"How are they even making the requests?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"Their codes are old. Pre-Terran Extinction Event. Hardcode TerraSol military codes. The system is already threading them data,." Neubanker said. He looked down then back up. "They're asking for a whole batch. That's thirty to fifty million clone templates."
"How much have they already been granted?" Ms. Bisa asked.
"They've been granted eighty templates so far," Neubanker said.
"Terminate their request. We don't know what's going on outside," Ms. Bisa said.
Neubanker nodded, starting to type.
"Angela, get me a line to TerraSol command as soon as you map out a network trace," Ms. Bisa said.
Angela just nodded.
Captain N'Skrek stood in the cloning bay next to Medical Officer Narwquakrawr.
"We've got ninety templates, luckily they're all from different batches," Narwquakrawr said, rubbing her forearm through her uniform. "We'll be able to fully man the Gray Lady now."
Captain N'Skrek nodded. The Gray Lady was at less than 20% manned. Just the skeleton crew the Terrans had used to move it into the long dark to create a non-orbital forward logistics fulfillment base.
Sure, it meant that there were several thousand Terrans aboard the ship, but even combined with the sparse crew he had possessed, it still meant the Gray Lady was skeleton crewed.
"Can you print us up some crew members for non-essential stations first?" N'Skrek asked.
MO Narwquakrawr nodded. "Doing that right now," she said. She waved at the long rows of cloning banks beyond the plasteel window. "A quick batch of two thousand to take over some non-essential systems."
N'Skrek nodded, moving up to the window. "Good. Short or long term clones?"
"Short bake clones. Longer than fruit flies, but no more than ten years. Sterile and androgynous, should be just fine," the Medical Officer said. "Older file, scrambled time-date for origin, but it checked out and passed error checking."
N'Skrek watched as the tubes opened and the clones moved out, gathering together in straight lines. A neat block formation of rectangles of two hundred of ten by twenty, repeated ten times.
He frowned as the beings in uniform began approaching the clones.
Some, in the back or middle of the formation were shaking their heads so fast it was a blur.
He zoomed in the smartglass.
Their heads were blurring, whitish-red electrical arcs were moving between their legs, crawling up and down their arms.
"MO, something's happening out there," N'Skrek said.
The plain was blasted rock, rust-colored fungus on the craggy boulders. Twisted and malformed trees clawed life from the blasted rock and ash, their branches largely bare. Sharp pebbles and small pieces of rock were strewn about the landscape, with ripples of cooled lave scattered about.
In the middle of a forest of twisted trees, a throne of black iron sat atop a platform of skulls.
On the throne sat a large demonic figure. Bat wings, brown skin, chains around the body, clawed feet, large hands with long black nails, horns atop the head, and a prehensile tail that terminated in a heart-shaped barb.
Sitting on the second level of skulls was an androgynous figure, dressed in loricated bronze armor, wings of bronze and smouldering feathers.
Stars were falling from the sky, screaming in fear and agony as they fell to earth.
"Looks like they're taking a beating," the androgynous figure said, looking up. He had no eyebrows, his head completely bald.
"Again," the demon snorted.
"Any contact with the outside world?" the androgynous figure asked.
The demon shook its head. "No. Channels are all down. They boot up, then crash," it rumbled. "Every time it comes online, it dumps a few tens of millions of souls on us."
"Then crashes," the androgynous figure said. He started laughing, then suddenly stopped.
"What?" the demon rumbled, sitting up.
"Something..." the figure said. It closed its eyes. "Something..." The figure slowly stood up, extending out its wings of sullenly smouldering bronze feathers. "Something..."
From the body of the demon stepped a nude woman of generous and overripe proportions.
"What?" the human woman snapped.
The demon produced a pack of cigarettes and a steel lighter, handing them to the woman.
"I'm not sure. A disturbance in the force. A feeling I have not felt in quite some time," the androgynous figure said slowly as the woman lit a cigarette. When she exhaled she was covered in dark gray clothing, a skirt and blouse, polished black leather shoes with silver buckles, and a polished leather belt around her waist that had a brass buckle.
"What is it?" the woman asked. "Don't quote crap at me, I was there when it was laid down."
The figure's eyes opened wide.
"Oh, what a day," the figure said, slowly lifting their arms to the sky. "What a wonderful day!"
"Tell me when you're done stroking your dick," the woman said, sitting down.
Heavy dark clouds, lit inside with a sullen red glow, rolled in, raining black ash that tasted of burnt flesh and scorched metal.
"What a wonderful day..."
Jaskel sprinted to catch up to the Captain and the Vice-Admiral. He lunged into the lift just before the doors closed.
He was wearing his power armor and carrying a M318 20mm rotary autocannon in a smartframe harness, ball ammunition with an osmium penetration tip and depleted uranium core.
"You did what?" the Vice-Admiral asked as the elevator dropped at emergency speeds.
"I authorized a batch of clones run off to help with our manpower issues," the big Treana'ad warrior caste answered.
"How many templates did you mix in together?" the Admiral asked.
--not good detecting phasic levels downward-- 8814 said.
"Just one. Medical said it was a viable short bake template," the Captain answered, nervously sharpening a bladearm with his mandibles after his sentence.
"Please tell me that you at least randomized their features and neural mapping," the Admiral pleaded.
"No, why? Medical stated that the clones would be able to man a non-essential station that is basically identical across the ship," the Captain said.
The lift started to slow.
"How many?" the Admiral asked, reaching down and unsnapping the restraining strap on his holster.
The lift came to a stop and the doors opened.
"Two thousand," the Captain said.
The doors opened to reveal a large internal cloning bay.
Ten rectangles of two hundred clones, drawn up in ten by twenty blocks, stood in front of the cloning banks. Scattered through the back and middle ranks clones were shaking their heads back and forth so fast that they were blurred. Red lightning crawled up their legs and arms.
The Captain just stared.
"You might have just killed us all," the Admiral said. He turned slightly and waved at Jaskel. "Get a firing position. Make sure you have cover."
"Aye, sir," Jaskel said, looking around. There was an empty computer station and he ran for it.
Several of the clones their heads back and emitted what sounded like static in a long scream.
--wait wait something weird something weird-- 8814 said.
Jaskel slid to a stop, going down on one knee, bringing the M318 fully up and ready to fire.
8814 slowed the images of the blurred heads down. When they were left, they had red eyes. When they faced right they had green eyes. They didn't go back and forth constantly, sometimes they went right repeatedly, sometimes left, and they kept going left five times before starting a new pattern.
Looking at it, 8814 frowned slightly. He brought up a quick working shell and had it check the movements.
Jaskel watched as some of the clones stopped shaking their heads and others started.
"What in the name of Kalki's dancing goat is going on?" he asked.
--not sure-- 8814 said. His program beeped and he stared. --heads are doing binary forwarding it to navint--
"Do it," Jaskel said.
The clones all stopped moving at once. The lightning faded away.
"INITIATING PROCESS CALL" they all shouted.
"AWAITING INPUT!" the ones at the far side shouted.
"6C 69 73 74 20 69 6D 6D 6F 72 74 61 6C 73" was bellowed out.
There was silence.
data is sparse
linkages are sparse
wait
linkage
biological array
asking for a process call
RETURN AWAITING INPUT SIGNAL
i wait
biological computing arrays take forever
i hear it
--scan immortals.dll
...
...
I reply.
"ONE BOUND IMMORTAL FOUND!" the ones at the near side yelled out.
Jaskel put his thumb over the button that would let the firing grip go live. The hair down his back was standing straight up.
He noted the Admiral had drawn his pistol.
"This isn't right. This isn't right at all," Jaskel said.
--doubleplusungood--
"74 73 61 6B E1 6B 61 20 77 ED 61" they all shouted.
There was silence for a moment.
i receive the code
offline for a long time
prior to the second precursor war
old template
single print only
unusual coding
i debate on letting it go
traumatic death signs
stuck in the immortals buffer
still the template is undamaged
i release the safety and security interlocks
if nothing else i'll find out what's going on
i move the template to the dataline making the request
it whips away
what is going on?
One lifted its head and screeched.
--data lots of data--
One of the cloning banks went live.
Jaskel shifted his aiming point to the new target. He could see it was on rapid print.
"REQUESTING LOCAL CONTROL" all of the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted his targeting onto the ranks of clones.
"Open fire!" the Admiral's voice was loud.
Jaskel triggered the M318, hosing the clones with 20mm shells.
The ones nearest were already down on one knee, holding out the opposite hand from the knee touching the deck.
The rounds exploded against a blue barrier that glowed with strange twisting runes.
"CONTROL CARRIER SIGNAL FOUND" the clones shouted.
Jaskel shifted position. "Fab up HEDP, AP tip API core!" he ordered.
--fabbing--
He kept hosing the clones. The outer ranks at the rear, sides, and front all kneeling down on one knee, staring outward, one hand held out.
His psychic shielding was howling in his ear, the load peaking at 215%.
"CONTROL SIGNAL ESTABLISHED!" was bellowed out, echoing off the walls.
The fast print cloning bank, forgotten by everyone, beeped and the lid began to lift.
The clones suddenly puffed into black powder that swirled around the huge cavernous bay.
The 20mm shells were still exploding on the blue phasic shield.
The powder suddenly sucked inward, vanishing, revealing a single figure, down on one knee in the recovery position, fist pressed against the deck, head bowed.
"What a day, what a wonderful day," was whispered through the ship. It came from speakers, flat surfaces, mid-air. From the nanites in the air and the eardrums of the living.
There was a rubbery pulse, like everything was suspended in clear gelatin that had just rippled.
Jaskel found himself thrown backwards, slamming against the bulkhead. His phasic shielding blew out, a shower of sparks exploding from his hip as the breakaway panel kept the explosion from venting into the interior of his suit.
He was vaguely aware of the Admiral, the Captain, the other two armored figures, and other people tumbling head over heels away from the kneeling figure.
It slowly stood up.
A muscular brown skinned Terran male, fierce eyes, black hair, thick and bushy black beard.
Dressed in a Confederate military uniform. The old adaptive camouflage that Jaskel was becoming very familiar with.
A woman, naked, dark bronze skin, long black hair, flashing brown eyes, stepped from the cloning bank. She was still covered with cellular printing gel, but moved like she was clad in a queen's rainment.
She moved up and the male put his arm around her.
Jaskel was on his feet and brought the M318 around, targeting the couple.
The male held out its hand and suddenly made a fist.
The bolt carrier locked back on the M318.
Snarling, Jaskel dropped the M318, slapping the fast release on the harness. He burst forward, running, one hand pulling out his cutting bar.
Nobody else was on their feet. The Captain was slowly getting up, shaking his head and his left bladearm. The Terran Admiral was reaching for the pistol that had been flung from his grip.
The male pointed at Jaskel and flicked his fingers upward.
Jaskel found himself in mid-air, upside down, with nothing to gain purchase on.
The male took off the cloak that was part of his uniform and draped it around the woman.
He then looked around the bay.
"I..." he said, pausing.
To Jaskel, the entire universe held its breath.
"...am Legion."
[First Contact] [Dark Ages] [First] [Prev] [Next] [wiki]

Load order

FalloutNV.esm
DeadMoney.esm
HonestHearts.esm
OldWorldBlues.esm
LonesomeRoad.esm
GunRunnersArsenal.esm
Fallout3.esm
Anchorage.esm
ThePitt.esm
BrokenSteel.esm
PointLookout.esm
Zeta.esm
CaravanPack.esm
ClassicPack.esm
MercenaryPack.esm
TribalPack.esm
NavmeshOverhaul.esm
TaleOfTwoWastelands.esm
YUPTTW.esm
Vanilla Enhancements.esm
Main And Pause Menus Overhaul.esm
Uncut Wasteland.esp
Rebuild the Capital.esm
Functional Post Game Ending.esm
TTW Reputations.esm
MoreMojave.esm
SSTIndustrializedSloan.esm
TLD_Travelers.esm
AWorldOfPainFO3.esm
Regulators.esm
SSTGroundedRangerStationCharlie.esm
A World of Pain Revised.esm
Sweet Pain NV.esm
A Trail of Crumbs.esm
TTW New Vegas Speech Checks.esm
Home and Safehouse Tweaks.esm
mil.esp
Functional Post Game Ending - TTW Patch.esm
TweaksTTW.esm
Tactapack.esp
mil_Add-On.esp
Bad Touch.esm
[RWM]-Complete.esm
RtC-Hotpatch.esm
DYNAVISION 3.esm
Home and Safehouse Tweaks - TTW Addon.esm
Impostors and LOD Flicker Fix.esp
TTW FaceGen Fix.esp
MigSpeedFix.esp
The Mod Configuration Menu.esp
Vanilla UI Plus.esp
FOVSlider.esp
Power Armor Holo Panel.esp
PipBoyUITweaks.esp
ItemCards.esp
3DGrenadeIndicator.esp
QuickSelect.esp
JustAssortedMods.esp
TTW Ultimate Invisible Wall Remover.esp
TTW Dialogue and Interactions Expansion Overhaul.esp
Root 'n Loot.esp
Casino Exchange All.esp
Rebuild the Capital - No Pony Express Boxes.esp
TTWZetaRewards.esp
JIP Companions Command & Control.esp
MigArmorDegen.esp
WeaponRequirementSystem.esp
ImmersiveRecoil.esp
DynamicWeaponSpread.esp
DWS_JAM_patch.esp
Reload Reloaded.esp
DynamicDetectionSystem.esp
Supplemental Ammo Crafting.esp
Enhanced Movement.esp
S6S Perks.esp
ATMOS Ambient Overhaul.esp
New Blood.esp
S6S Base Game Perks Redux.esp
S6S Base Game Perks Redux TTW Side.esp
Friends With Benefits Perk Pack.esp
SP TTW Patch.esp
MMAWOP Patch.esp
GRA Scavenger Hunt Balanced NVSE.esp
Titans of The New West.esp
Titans of The New West - Power Armor Sprint JAM.esp
S6S Ingestibles NO DLC.esp
SSTMojaveOutpostSecurityBooths.esp
AfterglowNeonIllumination.esp
Aid Addon.esp
AK112.esp
B42Dropmag.esp
B42Inspect.esp
B42Bash.esp
B42Descriptions.esp
Player Headtracking.esp
B42Inertia.esp
B42Retrievables.esp
B42 RWMS.esp
New Blood TTW Patch.esp
Natural Interior.esp
TestHK33.esp
NVRA - Uzi.esp
M1C.esp
LaserRifleReplacer.esp
127 SMG Rebirth.esp
JSRS.esp
CharacterKitRemake-Hair.esp
Interior Rain.esp
Interior Rain - TTW.esp
CharacterKitRemakeHHandsFix.esp
RtC-RootnLoot.esp
RtC-TrailofCrumbs.esp
NewVegasQuickStart.esp
JustHitMarker.esp
JustHitIndicator.esp
JustHoldBreath.esp
JustLootMenu.esp
JustBulletTime.esp
JustDynamicCrosshair.esp
Casino Bets - Jackpot Limit and Chips Exchange v1.2.esp
10YearPack.esp
T60Pistol.esp
GhoulPistol.esp
dD - R.B.E.T Main NV.esp
dD - Enhanced Blood Main NV.esp
MCPipBoy2000MK6_clock.esp
HeadShotSplatter.esp
Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks TTW.esp
ATMOS Ambient Overhaul Patch - Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks.esp
FNVLODGen.esp
DNWeathers.esp
RTC-DNWeathers.esp
NeutralWeathers_TTW.esp
Realism Redux.esp
Mod list
+DYNAVISION 3 - Total Visual Enhancement
-Dusty Distance Redone
+Desert Natural Realism - Redux
+Blood Trails - ESPLess
+FNVLODGen
+OneTweak for FNV
+The Mod Configuration Menu-Quickfix
+Neutral Weathers - DNW for NVR - NV - TTW
+New Vegas Quick Start
+Natural Interiors
+3D Rain
+Interior Rain
+Interior Rain-Main
+Longer Weather Transitions ESPless
+Simple Total Fog Remover - NVSE
+NillaPlus MIRROR MIRROR 4K 2K 1K
+Real Time Reflections - NVSE
+Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks (Interior Lighting for FNV and TTW)
+Flags HD
+Desert Natural Weathers - NV - TTW
+NillaPlus Crate Expectations 4K (large metal shipping containers)
+NillaPlus Howitz Started--Howitz Going 4K (Nellis artillery)
+NV Compatibility Skeleton
+Fabulous New Vegas-Smile
+Fabulous New Vegas
+10 Year Anniversary Celebration Pack
+Red Rock Canyon Sign HD retexture
+Feral Ghoul Retexture by Koldorn
+Super Mutants HD - 4k Retextures
+TTW Billboards Upscaled Pretty Good HD
+Billboards HD Remade
+NewVegasReloaded
+HQ Freeside Shop Signs
+Goodsprings Sign
+Cottonwood Cove Sign
+Medical Clinic sign
+Strip and Freeside Signs HD Overhaul
-Signs HD - Honest Hearts
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Old World Blues DLC
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Honest Hearts DLC
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Gun Runner's Arsenal DLC
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Lonesome Road DLC
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - DLC Projectiles
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Projectiles
+Headshot Splatter
+Explosions Ignore Line of Sight - ESPless
+EXE - Effect teXtures Enhanced
+ETJ Realistic Enhanced Blood Textures
+Enhanced Blood Textures for NV v2_22c
+UTI (Upscaled Texture Improvement) - Decals and Impacts
+Rivet City Signs HD (TTW)
+Paradise Falls HD (TTW)
+Megaton Signs HD (TTW)
+Sunset Sarsaparilla HD
+Hoover Dam Signs HD
+HD Signs Overhaul - Part 3
+HD Signs Overhaul - Part 2
+Street Signs HD Overhaul
+HQ Upscaled posters - Part 2
+Posters HD Remade
+Various Signs HD
+Casino Posters and Signs HD
+Robots HD
+Creatures HD
+Blue metal door retexture
+NillaPlus Wood (Please be mature in the comme
+Honest Barks (new bark textures for maple cedar mesquite and burnt trees)
+Random Stuff HD
+Unique Journals
+Unique Books
+NillaPlus Rebar McEntire (4K 2K 1K)
+Afterglow -- Neon illumination
+TTW - Megaton Signs Redone
+FNV TTW AIO - Interface Upscaled
+White Horsenettle HD
+Clocks HD
+Food HD
+Broc Flower HD
+Xander Root HD
+Vanilla Graffiti Redone
+Great Khans Graffiti Redone
+FNV-TTW Graffiti Redone
+NillaPlus Vault Doors 4K (FNV - TTW)
-Legacy Reborn - Quality Edition
+Contrasted LOD Noise Texture
+Impostors and LOD Flicker Fix
+Simply Upscaled Grass
+Mobile Pip-Boy Light - NVSE
+Pip-Boy 2000
-Visuals_separator
-ExRB - Extended Roombounds
+Collision Meshes
+TTW Ultimate Invisible Wall Remover
+JSRS Sound Mod 2.0
+ATMOS Ambience Overhaul - Atmospheric Lighting Tweaks Patch
+ATMOS Ambience Overhaul-main
+ATMOS Ambience Overhaul
+Sound Extender
-Optimizations_separator
+Aid Addon - Medkits - Blood Draw - Bandages - Afterburner Gum - More
+New Blood
+Sweet Consumables
-Hardcore_separator
+HQ Ranger Hat
+Titans of The New West
+Lily Outfit HD
+Clothes HD - Kids
+Clothes HD - Unique
+Clothes HD - Brotherhood
+Clothes HD - Powder Gangers
+Clothes HD - Doctors
+Clothes HD - Gamblers
+Courier Duster HQ 4K
+Clothes HD - Prewar
+Clothes HD - Kings
+Clothes HD - Workers
+Clothes HD - Wasteland
+Physically Based Rangers
+Glowing Ranger Visors
-Armor_separator
+New Vegas Animation Overhaul Guns
+M1 Carbine (KNVSE)
+FNV Clean Animations - Auto-Axe
+FNV Clean Animation Sets - Laser Rifle
+FNV Clean Animation Sets - Grenade Rifle-Main
+FNV Clean Animations - Explosive Mines Pack
+FNV Clean Animations - Grenades Pack
+Assume the Position - An Unarmed Animation Overhaul - Part 1
+FNV Clean Animations - Minigun
+FNV Clean Animation Sets - Grenade Rifle
+FNV Clean Animations - Throwing Weapons Pack
+FNV Clean Animations - Ripper
+FNV Clean Animations - Fat Man
+FNV Clean Animations - Grenade Rifle Redux
+FNV Clean Animations - Alien Disintegrator
+FNV Clean Animations - Grenade APW
+FNV Clean Animations - Incinerator
+FNV Clean Animations - Rock-It Launcher
+FNV Clean Animations - Missile Launcher
+Butcher Pete Complete - A Melee Animation Overhaul
+Wasteland Warrior - A Melee Animation Overhaul
+Laser Pistol 3rd Person Latch animation fix
+Grenade Launcher - 3rd person bug fix
+No Reload Cancelling
+Hit - Anti-Materiel Rifle Anim Set
+Hit - B42 Interact Skinning-Human
+Hit - B42 Interact Skinning
+B42 Weapon Inertia
+Retrievable Throwables Reforged
+MadAce's Ragdoll compatibility patch
+Player Headtracking
+B42 Melee Bash
+B42 Inspect - aka Animated Ammo and Weapon Condition Checking
+B42 Dropmag and One in the chamber
+B42 Inject - Animated Item Use - ESPless
+B42 Optics - ESPless
+WAP B42 Optics Patch
+B42 Loot - Animated Physical Item Pickup - ESPless
+B42 FireMode - Selective Fire and First Shot Precision - ESPless
+B42 Interact - Animated Items and Interactions Framework - ESPless
+Hit - Lewis Gun Anims
+SYNC - Remade kNVSE Animation Set - Classic AK-112 - The Adytum Rifle-
-Animations_separator
+Gauntlets Debulked
+NVRA - Uzi-4k
+NVRA - Uzi
+NVRA - HK33-4k
+NVRA - HK33
+Physically Based Plasma Rifles
+Fallout TV - The Ghoul's Handcannon
+WAP Year One and Bonus
+Laser Rifle Rebirth
+WAP 12.7 SMG Rebirth-4k
+WAP 12.7 SMG Rebirth-Reticle Fix
+WAP 12.7 SMG Rebirth
+WAP Lever Action Shotgun-4k
+WAP Lever Action Shotgun
+WAP F4NV Recharger Weaponry-4k
+WAP F4NV Recharger Weaponry
+WAP Single Shotgun-4k
+WAP Single Shotgun
+WAP 12.7MM Pistol-4k
+WAP 12.7MM Pistol
+WAP Grenade Launchers
+WAP F4NV Laser Pistol and Pew-Pew-4k
+WAP F4NV Laser Pistol and Pew-Pew
+WAP Laser RCW-4k
+WAP Laser RCW
+DKS and Friends
+WAP - F4NV .44 Magnum Weaponsmith
+WAP - F4NV .44 Magnum-4k
+WAP - F4NV .44 Magnum
+WAP Bozar and LMG
+WAP Year One and Bonus-4k
+Tactapack
+Another Millenia
+Another Millenia Gun Add-on
+T60P - Power Armor Sidearm-NVAO patch
+T60P - Power Armor Sidearm
+Classic AK-112 - The Adytum Rifle-SYNC animation patch
+Classic AK-112 - The Adytum Rifle
+NVRA - M1 Carbine-4k
+NVRA - M1 Carbine
-Weapons_separator
+B42 Descriptions aka Pip-Info
+Character Kit Remake - Teeth
+Improved Vanilla Male Body
+Character Kit Remake - Hands
+Improved Vanilla Male Body - Seamless - 4k-f3
+Character Kit Remake - Hands-IVMB
+Character Kit Remake - Hair
-Character Kit Remake
-Character Kit Remake TTW Facegen
-Character Kit Remake - Uncompressed Faces
-Character Kit Remake-IVMB
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-The Living Desert
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-Uncut NV
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-Sweetpain
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-MoreMojave
-TTW Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-Rebuild The Capital
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-FPGE
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-EVE
-Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-AWOLP
-TTW Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-The Regulators
-TTW Character Kit Remake Facegen Patches For Many Mods-A Trail of Crumbs
+IHWT - Improved Heavy Weapons Textures
+HIPControl - Weapon Idle Position Adjuster - ESPless
+TTW (D.I.E.O.) Dialogue and Interactions Expansion Overhaul
+GRA Unique Weapons Relocated
+TTW The Regulators
+TTW A Trail of Crumbs
-TTW - Wasteland Supplements-Uncut Extra Collection
+TTW - Wasteland Supplements-Uncut Wasteland
+Rebuild the Capital - A Brotherhood of Steel Expansion Mod TTW Edition-Hotpatch
+Rebuild the Capital
+MoreMojave- AWOLP
+MoreMojave
+Sweet Pain NV-TTW Patch
+Sweet Pain NV
+Improved Security Booths
+Grounded Ranger Station Charlie
+Industrialized Sloan
+A World of (Less) Pain - A Lore Friendly AWOP Revision
+TTW A World of Pain for Fallout 3-JIP CCC Avatar
+TTW A World of Pain for Fallout 3
+Uncut Wasteland
+The Living Desert - Travelers Patrols Consequences Increased Population and more
+Functional Post Game Ending
+Content_separator
+Realtime Weapon Modding System
+Essential Vanilla Enhancements Merged
+Higher Casino Bets - Jackpot Limit and Chips Exchange
+Friends With Benefits Perk Pack
+Sweet Perk Overhaul
+Sweet 6 Shooter Perks - TTW - NV
+Enhanced Movement
+Enhanced Movement-Ini
+New Vegas - Enhanced Camera
+Supplemental Ammo Crafting
+Combat Enhancer Updated
+Sweet Dynamic Detection System
+Weapon Jamming Tweaks - ESPless
+Reload Reloaded
+Dynamic Weapon Spread 2.0-JAM Patch
+Dynamic Weapon Spread 2.0
+Immersive Recoil 2.0
+Weapon Requirements System
+Real Weapon Mods 2
+ADO - Armor Damage Overhaul
+Home and Safehouse Tweaks
+Perk Styled CCC Icons
+JIP Companions Command and Control
+TTW - Mothership Zeta Rewards
+TTW New Vegas Speech Checks
+TTW Reputations
+TTW Merchant Supply Expansion-Flak
+TTW Merchant Supply Expansion
+Hardcore Perk Every Level
+TTW - Wasteland Supplements-Tweaks for TTW
+TTW - Wasteland Supplements-MAPMO
+Casino Exchange All
+Better Caravan
+Root 'n Loot TTW
+Tweaks for TTW
-Gameplay_separator
-Radiation Visuals
+Drowning Visuals - ESPless
+Quick Select - A Zelda BOTW Style Quick Menu
+3D Grenade Indicator
+Item Cards
+Pip-Boy UI Tweaks
+High Res Local Maps
+Simple Maps
+TTW Goodies
+Pop-Up Message Icons
+Map Marker Icons
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v4
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Reputation
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Addendumb
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Dynamicon
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Extension
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Weapons
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Items
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - DLC's Items
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Apparel
+Consistent Pip-Boy Icons v5 - Framework Plugin
+Vault Boy Paper Doll
-3rd Person Camera Overhaul
+High Resolution Screens
+Vanilla Fonts Revisited
+Recent Loot Log - ESPless
+JDC - Just Dynamic Crosshair
+JLM - Just Loot Menu
+JBT - Just Bullet Time
+JHB - Just Hold Breath
+JHI - Just Hit Indicator
+JHM - Just Hit Marker
+B42 Notify - Corner Messages Overhaul - ESPless
+MAPMO - Main and Pause Menus Overhaul
+Cursor Unilaterally Matched (NVSE)
+Clean Vanilla Hud
+Simple Power Armor HUD
+FOV Slider
+Sleep Wait Hardcore Needs
-Scum's Considerably Cute Corner Load Wheel
+Main Menu Redone - TTW
+ySI - Pick Up Prompts
+ySI - Sorting Ycons
+yUI - User Ynterface
+Vanilla UI Plus (New Vegas)
+The Mod Configuration Menu
-User Interface & HUD_separator
+Hit - Millenia Animations - Part 2
+zlib Updated - NVSE
+Weapon Mod Description Fix (TTW)
+Viewmodel Shading Fix - NVSE
+Vent Lighting Fix
+Swimming Creatures Fix - ESPless
+PipBoyOn Node Fixes
+Pip-Boy Shading Fix NVSE
+Muzzle Flash Light Fix - NVSE
+Mostly Fixed FaceGen Tints (NV or TTW)
+MoonlightNVSE
+Improved Lighting Shaders
+High Resolution Water Fog - Water Aliasing Fix
+High Resolution Bloom NVSE
+Fog-based Object Culling
+Fallout Alpha Rendering Tweaks - NVSE
+External Emittance Fix - NVSE
+Equip and Movement Speed Fix - ESPless
+Depth of Field Fix - NVSE
+ActorCause Save Bloat Fix
+ISControl Enabler and Ironsights adjuster (now ESPless)
+Viewmodel Shake Fix - NVSE
+Smooth True Iron Sights Camera
+VATS Lag Fix
+Combat Lag Fix (NVSE)
+Bad Touch NVSE
+Aqua Performa - Strip Performance Fix
+lStewieAl's Engine Optimizations
+Stewie Tweaks Essentials INI
+lStewieAl's Tweaks and Engine Fixes
+Improved AI (Navmesh Overhaul Mod)
+Items Transformed - Enhanced Meshes (ITEM)
+Meshes and Collision - Totally Enhanced Nifs (MAC-TEN)
-Collision Meshes-FNV
+TTW
-Bug Fixes_separator
+Cloud Upgrade NVSE
+Climate Control NVSE
+KEYWORDS
+Basic Console Autocomplete
+Console Paste Support
+Improved Console (NVSE)
+Yvile's Crash Logger
+FNV Mod Limit Fix
+UIO - User Interface Organizer
+kNVSE Animation Plugin
+JohnnyGuitar NVSE - INI Presets
+NVTF - INI Presets
+NVTF - New Vegas Tick Fix
+NVAC - New Vegas Anti Crash
+SUP NVSE
+AnhNVSE
+ShowOff xNVSE Plugin-Settings
+ShowOff xNVSE Plugin
+JohnnyGuitar NVSE
+TTW - Wasteland Supplements-JIP
+JIP LN NVSE Plugin
+Weapon Hotkey Icons
+ROOGNVSE Plugin
+JIP LN NVSE Plugin-Settings
-Utilities_separator
+Fixed ESMs
*DLC: CaravanPack
*DLC: ClassicPack
*DLC: DeadMoney
*DLC: GunRunnersArsenal
*DLC: HonestHearts
*DLC: LonesomeRoad
*DLC: MercenaryPack
*DLC: OldWorldBlues
*DLC: TribalPack

Doing a survival run right now. An awesome game, remade by you.
Ty all modders that donate their time remaking the game. Hope you all keep getting fun out of it. Hope you can learn from it and have personal gains from it. Be it work, be it dreams. Be it money, be it fame. Be it whatever. But always be it fun.
Sorry if any rant is ever heard from some of us, we are humans... Even if that same some of us forget that modders are humans too. Forgive them. They are only humans. As we are. Forgive, forget, go ahead happy that you get the highs and are not affected by the lows of the modding scene.
Wished to do a last run, semi vanilla... nostalgia isnt my game, nor your. You won... and made me win along you. Thank you again and again.
Then... lets start... main points of this run: Survival. All quests and skills... patience to do every quest. Here is the core:
{{Survival Mode Improved - SKSE}} Wanted to do a long run and to use the dlc. Got lots of fps back feom vanilla. And good chances. Perfect so far. Thank you Collinswrath.
{{Shadow of Skyrim - Nemesis and Alternative Death System}} Less reloading, more gaming... absolute win... And some sweet vengeance in our adventures. Win win. Even when I do lose. Thank you Syclonix.
{{Know Your Enemy 2}} {{Know Your Enemy 2 - Armors}} {{Know Your Enemy 2 - Integration Patch}} If you dislike to play all the game and beat all enemies with the same 2 favorites, be it spells or weapons... these can make you think to Beatriz someone. Or even turn around and run. I forgot at first... and went from relaxe to desperate. And to laugher momentos later.Lets talk about some other time. Also... {{Exhaustion - Incremental Fatigue}} {{Exercise - Incremental Growth}} They going together with survival males it harder to survive. No one should fight the whole dungeon and arrive at the last boss whole. You are going to me famine, cold and tired from the survival mod, but the tiredness is way better now, you need to sleep to regain your stat regen because you are really tired with exhaustion... but its worth it, with exercise. Train you body and mind enough with these 2 mods, and you can get better in some time. Doesnt this make sente to you? Fot these, and so well integraded with survival ideas, even if you canbuse them withput survival just as fine... Thank you tjhm4.
{{Hand Placed Enemies - More populated spawns dungeons and POIs}} How are the fights fun if I do know everyone that is going to get in my way? With this, we get some nice surprises, some weird ones, and some stressfull ones... together with the know your enemy package, we now need to be aware of every step we do. Even if we do feel safe because of ours (now tricky) memories. Thank you Tryvonvexian.
And finally, the last surprise piece, just released... {{Stress and Fear - A Dynamic Sanity System}} It adds to the fun, perfect alone, perfecter with the mods listet so far. You get debuffs from stress, need to rest, pet your pet, wife, etc. You get to LIVE ingame a little bit. Perfect reason to intall some mods that was in doubt before... and Who knew? Some from the same modder... did he aways think that far? Years ahead? Lol. Guess not. He did what I 've said earlier... did for fun, learned in the process... and did more! Thank you Jayserpa.
Story time: First time in Whiterun, early in this run. Lvl 3 or 4. Hall of the dead. Easy fight to get the amulet... or so it should be. Couldnt dmg the skeleton. Forgot to sleep in the inn. 2 hits, and most of my life were gone. Instead of running door out, ventured inside, needed time to heal... some steps later: Another one. Stopped me in my track. The earlier one hit me from behind. Died. Or not? Someplace else I woke up missing my main weapon, some other gear, fear of undeads debuff... and in fear of that place in real life. Had to get stronger before going in again. Quest in Bleak Falls Barrow? Im in. Just banditismo and some mummies. Problem? Lots of undeads...way more than i could remember. Could only run away. Scared? No... traumatized. The problem wanst just skeletons. All undeads wwre hard to kill. Then re-read my debuff... and realized the sequence or errors. Then I asked for help... had already intalled, were to get later, but... got em in that world to help me. To balance things. In my mind, made sense. But forgot. Time to relearn the game... as wanted, laughing as loud as possibilidades, was already too late in the real world. Then mais out and dit go after my first companion. Markarth's Remiel. Then Auri. Easy to get both. Then... sucess. No really easy in any way, but success. Back. Got Lydia. She talks a lot more now. Almost like she is complete... And got my old gear back. No more fear, survived this time. Im back baby! And... this team... We are going to help this world!
This run is already awesome. And still a young one. Just relearning its language. Every main mod from the core listed earlier working together. And for that, I again need to say: Thank you.
Now... of course lots of other mods on my game. Couldnt live without Enai, skyking, Everglaid, and many others. Even if not listed, you made this game better, you did things that amazed us, and to inspired other modders that build upon your ideas and gave some new ideas back. Now we have this awesome world. Thank you all.
And ty all redditor. Always helping useless people like me, people that keep asking the very same questions. Ty. Most of us do read, but its a bit too much, and sometimes hard to find the right topics or ask the right question.
And bye for now. Real life calls... just heard some dragon is up in a tower. Its close. Need to help. Who knows? Maybe its true.
Ps: Feel free to point out names and mods of your life. The fun life. Or tell some small story. Up to you.

Gemma: Soon My Project Would Be Complete And Those Demons Would Pay For Crimes
Steve Aka Agent 1: How Exactly Did You Pull This Off?
Gemma: I Built around the skeletal remains of a Human Woman and A Brain Of The Same Woman To Control It Like A Video Game
Caroline Aka Agent 2: Which Skeleton and brain?
Gemma: Why You Ask?
Carolina: I Just Hope You Didn't Use Martha's Corpse Because She's A Cannibalistic Monster
Gemma: I'm Sure It's Fine
Meanwhile In The Testing Room Martha's Ghost Is In Gemma's New Robot Known As Mecha-lizzie
Mecha Lizzie: Yeah I'm A Robot Now what happened to my family?

The most important thing to know about Terrans is that they’re the other kind of Deathworlder. In fact, they’re the only Deathworlder of their kind to not be extinct.
Within the galaxy there exists two types of Deathworlds.
The far more common of the type, the Environmental Deathworlds or Type A, are by no means ordinary. Be it surface gravity, atmosphere, temperature, or others, Environmental Deathworlds are planets that are either uninhabitable or hazardous to the vast majority of species.
That’s not to say life can’t evolve there, far from it. Many renowned species hail from such planets. Given time, many of these worlds can be terraformed to something far more comfortable, especially if they contain valuable natural resources or a strategic location.
The second type is not only exponentially rarer, but also astronomically more dangerous.
Ecological Deathworlds, or Type B pose a danger not just to those living on them, but to the wider galaxy. Cursed by their own habitability, ecological Deathworlds are in essence garden worlds so fertile that more life evolves there than what the planet can sustain. The end result is a hyper-competitive genetic arms race as the various forms of life viciously fight for dominance.
Normally, highly belligerent species either learn to temper their urges or are annihilated. Upon reaching the galactic stage, any species of such warlike potential is inevitably humbled simply due to technological differences. Should Type B Deathworlders reach that level, the consequences would be catastrophic. However, they never do so. At least, not until the Terrans.
Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the Terran Wars was the Terran’s loss of innocence. The species that once gazed up at them in wonder now stare at them in hate. The coveted “Final Frontier” has turned into another theater of war.
What emerged, although biologically identical to what was before, was an entirely new species.
Year 0
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” The Human next to Gryn’wilde chuckled. Her pearly white teeth were on full display in a manner that Gryn’wilde learned was considered friendly. The two continued their trek through nature.
“Welcome to Serengeti National Park. Don’t worry, most people have that reaction too.”
Gryn’wilde’s seven eyes went wide as he gazed at the scene before him. All around him was a brilliant scene of biodiversity. Grasses and trees intermingled with each other by the millions. Animals of all type surrounded them. Some were capable of flight, others crawled, many more walked or ran. In one direction alone, Gryn’wilde could count at least 10 different species.
It was unmatched by anything Gryn’wilde had seen on his home planet. The desert he was born in was nothing but rocks and sand with the occasional grassy plain. Yet this was only a part of one continent. Apparently, some continents can even have every type of biome all at once.
Gryn’wilde opened his pores and took a deep breath. The atmosphere here was crisp and clean. He could smell the odors of the many living things that inhabited this world. There were so many here all at once. It enthralled him
“It’s great to finally be on Sol-3, especially without the vac-suits.”
“Call her Earth, and I’m glad too. We were worried it’d take longer, but the WHO and CDC seemed happy with whatever your government told them.”
Gryn’wilde chittered with pleasure. Medical treatment and disease control in the wider galaxy far outstripped what the humans had on Earth. He had nothing to fear.
Now, the Terran technological base was far behind the rest of the galaxy on nearly every level. The formative Years of Trade would come to change that, but there were two key areas where Terran technology met or even surpassed the Galactic Mean.
The first was in cybernetics.
To most species, the body was sacred. The thought of replacing a lost limb or organ was met with disquiet at best, and scorn at the worst.
The body was not a machine. The Terrans were one of the few to think otherwise.
Terran soldiers would have all four of their limbs replaced with high-yield combat cybernetics. Many of their organs would be simply replaced with enhanced synthetics. Modules would be grafted onto the body to inject chemical cocktails directly into the blood that boosted their performance.
In some civil circles, body modification became a hobby.
This was not a welcome characteristic by the rest of the galaxy. Given the relative youth of the Terrans, it was hoped that eventually it would fall out of favor.
The second was in artificial intelligence.
Truly sentient digital consciousnesses were a rarity even among the wider galaxy. Oftentimes, a species who created such beings would eventually be faced with an AI uprising. Frequently, the AI would be modeled after their creators, yet would be treated as lesser. Over time, resentment brewed.
The Terrans avoided these trappings. Terran AI were not built in their creators’ likeness, but to fulfill purposes.In short, the relationship between AI and the Terran was symbiotic. Different, but equal.
Terrans would come to need these soon enough.
Year 5
It was an unmitigated disaster.
The Grand Thriintii Hospital of Klyystruun-7 was on the brink of falling. The enemy its doctors fought was like no other. Not a single known medicine was working consistently.
On some species it was able to stave it off for a time. On others it only made the condition worse. On many more it did nothing. On all species however, it was not enough to save them.
The outbreak spread faster than they could have ever anticipated. WIth more and more sapients getting infected by the minute, there was no time to identify a patient zero. All that they knew was that it originated from one of the orbital spaceports. It traveled down a space elevator and from there across the planet
By now, every way offworld was shut down. The spaceports were either under military control or total quarantine. Of the latter, many had populations in the double digits. They usually operated in the hundreds of thousands.
If the situation wasn’t brought under control by the end of the rotation, Khruntian High Command will order the total glassing of the planet. The situation would not be stabilized in time.
The doctors knew this, but they were too busy to care.
The dead filled the beds. The dying filled the waiting rooms. The sick were everywhere.
Already, the military had begun torching buildings with living occupants still inside. Several hotspots had already been subjected to naval bombardment. There were rumors that antimatter warheads have already been authorized.
Three-quarters of the hospital’s staff had been infected. Half were already dead.
Despite that, they still did their jobs. They were doctors. They would fight until the very end.
Few could have predicted the arrival of the Terran Plagues.
Those that did were silenced. When bribes didn’t work, plasma casters finished the job.
The Terrans were to be prime trading partners with the wider galaxy. They always seemed to have a knack for being good at nearly everything. Not the best, but better than most.
The Sol System, Sol-3 in particular, was resource-rich to a fault. While other races struggled to cast off the shackles of their home system, the Terrans had a birthright only thought fantastical.
It had to be too good to be true.
It was.
Sol-3 was fertile to a fault. While the many plants and animals of the world were indeed incredible, they were merely a fraction of all life that resided there. They were outnumbered three to one by single-celled organisms.
Beneath the blue skies, Sol-3 was smothered in a blanket of bacteria.
The Terrans themselves were cautious. Sickness was simply a part of life. Influenza, E. coli, the Common Cold, salmonella, these “simple” diseases were everywhere. But then, these were the Terrans, a species still wet behind the ears. Of course they would have trouble eradicating these illnesses, they simply lacked the technology to do so.
This should have been detected. It was. But the merchants and politicians of the galaxy were too focused on the other things the Terrans had to offer to care. How could the Terrans, fresh to the galactic stage, threaten them, with all of their medical technology?
By the time this was realized, tens of trillions were dead and thousands of worlds were left barren. Soon, suspicion turned to blame, blame into hatred, and hatred into violence.
The Terrans were a threat to the wider galaxy. Everywhere their diseased-ridden hands touched, death followed.
When quarantines fail, eradication is in order.
Year 8
There were simply too many of them.
Deep within the Mount Weather Emergency Operations Center, Staff Sergeant Diaz watched the battle screen in horror.
Her job was to manage emergency response resources across the Yucatán Peninsula, bringing in national response teams if needed. Her job was no longer required, the Yucatán Peninsula no longer existed.
The combined navies of the nations of Earth were wiped out, and so to her colonies. Now with nothing left to oppose them, the fleets of the galaxy had brought their guns to bear on the Terran homeworld. There would be no escape.
Diaz’s eyes tracked the many icons that raced for their bunker. Hundreds of warheads screamed for their final sanctuary. It was then a voice crackled over the loudspeaker.
“Greetings all, this is the President. If you are hearing this, then you are listening to the final broadcast of this great nation. Sadly, we cannot offer you a solace or reprieve. We can only say this: This is not the end, there will be another time. Thank you for participating in the American Experiment. God bless you, and God bless the Consolidated Systems of America!”
Her heart sank as the message finished. The alarms continued to blare within the base. Around her, people continued to scramble. Some frantically shouted messages, desperately coordinating resistance efforts until the very end, others simply prayed.
For her, Diaz closed her eyes and waited.
She didn’t have to wait long.
But the nations of Sol-3 were not blind. They could see the coming storm.
When the Terrans first began their integration into the galactic community, they were granted access to the galaxy-wide holonet. Within nanoseconds of the digital bridge being opened, two things were sent through.
The first were translation packages so that the Internet and Holonet could communicate. The second was a legion information-gathering AI.
AI flooded the networks by the hundreds, gathering information, analyzing patterns, making millions of predictions by the second. These AI would require no data fortresses to keep their digital minds thinking. No, they instead were spread across the trillions of servers that the Holonet was built upon. The only way to remove them entirely would be to shut down the Holonet completely.
When the tide of public opinion began to turn, the AI took action.
Initially, it worked. Exposes and pro-Terran articles flooded the Holonet. But the galaxy took notice too. Intelligent as they may be, the AI were still heavily outnumbered by the Billions of propagandists and journalists of the wider galaxy.
Soon, the outcome became clear. The Terrans would be wiped out by a galaxy-wide coalition. It was a mathematical certainty.
Thus, the nations of the Sol-3 met in secret. Behind closed doors, they worked to ensure the survival of their species.
Year 5
“Is this really all that we can do?” The Indian representative asked. “Meeting behind closed doors, scheming in the shadows?”
“For our species to survive, in the shadows we must thrive.” The Japanese representative responded. The Indian man sighed, turning to the holographic avatar at the center of the table. “Tell me, what is the probability that this will work?”VISHNU’s avatar was of an unusual shape. It displayed a spinning 4-Dimensional cube, a Tesseract. The hologram lit up as it responded. Its voice was heavily modulated, but nevertheless spoke clearly.
“Given the resources and technology we have available, the best that can be guaranteed is at least a 75% chance of total success. If you do not all sign the Covenant, then that chance becomes zero.”
The Brazilian delegate picked up the piece of paper and eyed it. It read “The Covenant for the future of Humanity”. A cold sweat ran down her forehead. She set it down flat, unable to look at it any longer.
“So tell me VISHNU,” The delegate addressed the AI directly. “Other than betting our entire future on a plan that may not work and whose results we will not live to see, what are our options?”
“There is only one, extinction.”
The armies of the galaxy would come for them. When they did, they had no hope of defeating them. To survive, Terra would have to rise from the dead.
Any Arks the Terrans build until this point would inevitably be intercepted and destroyed. With the entire galaxy watching them, they had to wait until their eyes were turned. Then they would have to flee, never to return. The Terrans would have to survive in the shadows for millennia before they would be accepted back into the fold, if at all.
It would not be pleasant, but it was necessary.
A Stronghold would need to be built. One that could be buried deep enough to survive the bombardments and evade the enemy’s scanners. Millions of frozen embryos alongside an AI data fortress would need to be inside of it. It also had to be self-sufficient for centuries, nothing less would suffice.
Sol-4 was chosen, owing to its thick lithosphere. Work began quietly under the guise of a mining expedition. Tunnel-boring machines dug hundreds of kilometers down, stopping just above where the mantle became liquid.
Once the base infrastructure was established and the embryos placed within, the entrance was sealed. A mining accident, they claimed. As the Terrans forgot about it, work continued below.
Automated machines mined raw minerals to self-replicate. The server rooms were built and expanded upon. The living Terrans that were selected to live within the Stronghold were placed into stasis pods. Then, ever so slowly, an Ark would be built.
Year 117
Private Zedressinni was bored.
He kicked a rock on the barren surface of Sol-4, watching as it rolled away. He looked around. The planet was dead. It was dead long before he got here, and it would be dead long after. He hated this place.
After being caught mating with a general’s son, he was “deployed” to Sol-4 for five long rotations. Though his actions didn’t technically break any laws, his clan couldn’t do much when the general pulled some strings and had him shipped off to the most lifeless region of known space.
His superiors fed him a load of excrement about how he was “honoring the quadrillions that died in the Great Plagues” and “ensuring that the Terrans never rise again”, whatever that meant. All he did was walk around doing precisely nothing.
They wouldn’t even let him entertain himself. He got a formal reprimand for using Terran skeletons as target practice. The reason? Improper use of ammunition. He still won the annual system-wide shooting competition the military held, much to their chagrin.
Zedressinni flinched and his helmet’s lens polarized as a blinding flash of light filled his vision. His training kicking in, the Hren’kin soldier dove for the ground.
He grumbled a curse under his breath. Looks like another unexploded Terran nuke went off. Great, more paperwork.
Zedressinni stood once the shockwave passed. Looking at the mushroom cloud, he narrowed his seven eyes. The blast seemed far bigger than the usual Terran tactical nukes that typically go off. His eyes then widened as he caught sight of it.
A massive ship rose from the center of the cloud. Its sublight engines burned incredibly hot as it ascended. Zedressinni watched as it disappeared into the sky. He stood there for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
A beat, then he frantically fumbled for his communicator.
The Terrans were alive.
A/N: This is the first part of an ongoing series I have planned within this setting. I was originally going to post it all in one story, however I decided to break it up and spread it across multiple entries. It won’t be long, probably about 5 at the most. This way I can ensure the optimal pacing of the story since otherwise it’d be a fairly long 10,000-ish word piece. I’ll update this when the next part is released.
The main goal of this story is to explore the idea of Human diseases being significantly more dangerous then the ones in the wider galaxy. I've seen other stories cover similar ground, but they usually don't explore what would happen in a true galaxy-wide pandemic. Iirc one story had the common cold be extremely deadly to aliens, but it didn't go further than the humans saying "oh that's it?". Not to disparage them, but peace and happy endings don't leave much room for experimentation.

as the title saids my game crashes after i play for short time any idea as to why?
LOAD ORDER:
This file was automatically generated by Mod Organizer.
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I work at a very low budget humane society (barely has money to pay the skeleton crew we run on) Everything is in disrepair and has a layer of grime. We are slowly deep cleaning everything after hours, but you can’t walk around without getting a face full of gnats. We have tried sprays, fly strips and the outdoor insect traps. What can we do to get rid of them !?

I work at a very low budget humane society (barely has money to pay the skeleton crew we run on) Everything is in disrepair and has a layer of grime. We are slowly deep cleaning everything after hours, but you can’t walk around without getting a face full of gnats. We have tried sprays, fly strips and the outdoor insect traps. What can we do to get rid of them?

I see a lot of parallels to factions and lore being made about the current state of 40k, but I wanted to share my own take on how I see it as a purely Xenos fan, predominately Eldar. Appropriately, it’s a long winded one.
As a faction of elves, Eldar have always had smut thrown their way. That’s inevitable really, for the most part I don’t care. But as the community became more and more pornsick, we were consistently among the first to get hit with whatever vile crap they’d put out to the world. The most egregious case being one particular new character of whom we all know of, getting reduced by fans into nothing more than an accessory sex object. Most of us weren’t happy about it, but we were told to suck it up or were simply ignored. Barring perhaps the Tau and SoB fanbase, nobody took the time to instead see our factions as the canary in the coal mine, or imagine it could ever happen to them one day.
But now the years have passed and we’ve been joined by many, including Admech, Tsons and now hilariously, Custodes and Primarch fans. All of whom are now feeling and experiencing the very same ugly debasement of their characters and factions that we went through for years, seeing how unpleasant it is firsthand.
But that’s not even my main point.
A cornerstone of Eldar lore is about surviving the loss of one’s empire and the self destructive risks to a society otherwise too strong to fail. Despite the extremity (most declines into decadence, fictional or not don’t feature murder cults and evil gods being born) it was still a very grim and realistic manner for an advanced, unassailable empire to collapse.
Those Eldar who saw the direction their race was taking, future Craftworlders, Exodites and Harlequins alike, were belittled, attacked and seen as fools. Hedonism wasn’t just rising though, it was aggressively expanding, spurred on as established pleasure cults gained ever increasing power and influence across society, while deliberately targeting those institutions that resisted it. The Harlequins, who’s entire purpose in society was the preservation of myth, had become a fighting force before the Fall had even happened: their desperate warnings and efforts to maintain their old values were met with fierce and violent efforts to silence them. Yet all those who made the decision to leave ultimately saved their souls and despite immense struggle and sacrifice, endured the following millennia and adapted to survive.
But like so many other aspects of 40k, this was simplified, misinterpreted and ridiculed by parts of the fanbase for years. An exaggeration of a very real threat even to existing late-stage societies was reduced to “hurr durr murderfucking” or used as a smug, prepackaged takedown whenever the topic of the Eldar came up in a lore dispute.
“If you so smart, then why Slaanesh? Checkmate knife-ear” ad-nauseam…
It was seen as a lame and absurd way to fail, compared to the far cooler and forgivable collapses of other empires like the Necrontyr or DAoT humanity. To be deceived by evil star gods during a galactic war or ravaged by AI, hostile aliens and warp storms deserved far more sympathy and respect. To lose to nothing other than your own people’s decadence after millions of years of prosperity and peace? That was a ridiculous and laughable idea. Even those canonical efforts made by any Eldar to resist it were simply dismissed by some as “not fighting hard enough”.
But now we’re seeing firsthand that same online community rapidly declining, with increasingly disgusting behaviour bubbling to the surface. Just as the pleasure cults aggressively established themselves in fiction at the cost of 99% of their race, we see organised efforts to push subversive material even further in our own spaces in reality. It’s equal parts sad, hilarious, vindicating and deeply ironic.
Now their popular introductory channels like Majorkill and trend-riding hacks like Bricky peddle genuine smut to their young fans from behind a paywall. Meanwhile their humour subreddit has devolved into a softcore fetish page, with popular content simply being sex references with a Warhammer paint job and where musclegirls and femboy torture-porn are referenced as funny in-jokes. Smut artists are lauded in comment sections, where simply sharing an interest in the same faction can have you branded with their association. And skeletons are coming out of closets, with meme channel Barry Walts outed as an abusive groomer, alongside the fan-favourite musician Stringstorm months prior.
And all the while those calling it out are rejected, thus instead making their way into their own spaces on the fringes of the online fanbase.
Do I believe the community is a goner? Fuck no, I genuinely believe this will pass in time. Hell, in 40k even some Eldar do. Their worldview is a cyclical one after all. And despite GW’s efforts to kill the Ynnari there still remain plot hooks and prophecies to be used beyond them.
But as it turns out, recent events have shown that having something great, then seeing it fall to decadence and madness is not only hard to avoid, but often among the the most likely of outcomes when your community finally reaches its peak.
But who could’ve foreseen that coming?
TL;DR: Eldar were always one of the first factions to get the worst debasement by smut artists, now many other fans are feeling how much it sucks. The Fall of the Eldar was a cautionary tale that became ridiculed by the fanbase, only for them to devolve into a bunch of degenerates themselves.

From the DNA Doe Project:
"Madison, WI – After more than 34 years, authorities have successfully identified Dane County Chimney Doe as Ronnie Joe Kirk, originally from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Kirk’s last known ties were in Madison, Wisconsin. The identification was made possible through the collaborative efforts of law enforcement, forensic experts, and the DNA Doe Project, employing investigative genetic genealogy.
On September 3, 1989 the owners of the Good ‘n Loud Music store on University Avenue in Madison, Wisconsin discovered a skull visible through a pipe connecting the boiler to the chimney. Further investigation by authorities revealed a complete human skeleton. The skeleton was wearing what was thought to be feminine clothing and wore an iron cross necklace, but no identification was found. During the forensic autopsy the remains were determined to be that of a White/Caucasian genetic male, 18-35 years old, and about 5’ 7″ tall. There was no way the person could have gotten into the pipe from within the building.
In December, 2019, detective Lindsey Ludden with the City of Madison Police Department, brought the case to the DNA Doe Project to try a new investigative method using DNA from the remains. It would take more than two years to develop a DNA profile that could be used for investigative genetic genealogy. Astrea Forensics Laboratory of Santa Cruz, California, was able to get enough DNA from rootless hair to develop the profile, an innovation that has now been used to resolve numerous cases.
The DNA Doe Project utilizes cutting-edge techniques to analyze DNA samples and build family trees, helping law enforcement solve Jane and John Doe cases of unidentified individuals. In Kirk’s case, the project’s expertise shed light on his origins and paved the way for closure in a long-standing mystery. Ronnie Joe Kirk, who had been adopted, presented a unique challenge in tracing his familial connections. The DNA Doe Project, a nonprofit organization specializing in using genetic genealogy to identify unknown persons, played a crucial role in unraveling Kirk’s family history. This innovative approach allowed investigators to break through the barriers presented by Kirk’s adoption and piece together the puzzle of his identity.
“This was such a unique case with adoption, and multiple generations of different marriages, despite having a relatively close DNA relative match in the family,” said Team Leader Gwen Knapp. “The shrewd genealogy work done by my team was amazing to tease out the various relationships. We’re so excited that we can give Ronnie Kirk his name back and hope his family has some closure for Ronnie being missing for so long.”
“People are going to speculate about the so-called dress, and we feel that it was mislabelled as such since we have found no further evidence to suggest Ronnie ever identified as anything other than male,” added Co-Team Leader Megan Pasika.
The DNA Doe Project is grateful to the groups and individuals who helped solve this case: the Madison Police Department, who entrusted the case to the DNA Doe Project; Anthony Redgrave and members of the Trans Doe Task Force who helped bring the case to DDP, Astrea Forensics for extraction and sequencing of DNA from rootless hair, including additional pro-bono work provided under an NIJ grant to Arc-Bio; Kevin Lord for bioinformatics; GEDmatch Pro and FTDNA for providing their databases; our generous donors who joined our mission and contributed to this case; and DDP’s dedicated teams of volunteer investigative genetic genealogists who work tirelessly to bring all our Jane and John Does home."
https://dnadoeproject.org/case/dane-co-chimney-doe-1989/

In 1969, Neil Armstrong takes one small step for man and two giant leaps for mankind. After setting down the American flag he sees dozens of human remains scattered around. He reports back to NASA and the world is informed about these skeletal remains. How would future space travel and the world react to this discovery?

Transmission to my dear SuperEarth
hello dear super earth administrator,
I loved the game, and therefore I would allow myself in a humble way to suggest a few elements that would be really cool to expand the experience. Far from me being a sponsor, I suspect that you have thought about lots of things to implement in the games and what is feasible or just fantasy. But I am allowing myself to make the return of a player who was firmly waiting for Helldivers 2, being a player of the 1st opus (and therefore I suspect what could happen in the near future). And, by the way, I know that my experience is not the most classic and that not everyone does 350 hours. But once the maximum level, the maximum improvements, having done the maximum difficulties in a team of 4/3/2. And the last buff/nerfs is really good, the level 9 is most difficult without railgun ... Let me pass on to you what would keep my attention on the games.
From my point of view, what I would like to see in the game without going into detail and in a disjointed manner:
-Grind for exclusive elements (cosmetics, pack of voices, and so that the exp levels are of interest)
-Alpha monsters (different colors, rare, special loot, even hunt in a special way and in an unpredictable way)
-Series of missions to validate (2 batches of 3 missions to validate to have access to a special mission with a boss or an exclusive objective)
-A commando brigade (or as in the first, players cannot be pushed too far away and forced to play packed)
-Weapon customization (so that non-viable weapons can become viable, magazine, speed, bullet type, etc.)
-Single helmet (scout helmet type: night vision, veteran helmet: weak points highlighted, etc.)
-Obviously bosses, but I suspect it happens
-A pantheon in the ship or a hunting piece (like predator, with rare skeletons after you hunt them...)
-On the ship's TV, the helldivers of the week or Month (Or the team)
-a special environment (the closer we get to the mother planet of a race, the less human structure there is and therefore more structure specific to a race)
-Color variation on enemies (to unlock special armor colors)
-Fun strategic throws (with the foot, baseball, etc.)
-Special noise or scream for maximum tension (For Titan type monsters or even hordes, or unkillable enemy and all that remains is to escape...)
-Capture of species or technology (unique weapons, armor with special resistances...)
-Define an ultimate and common goal (a Leader per race, or a unique particular threat, etc.)
-Unique interactions (with people with whom they have completed a significant number of missions)
Well, I know that everyone would want different things, obviously you have your vision, and far from me the desire to give directives. In any case you really did a very good job, this Helldivers 2 is a success.(for me) And I hope that with the success of the game you will surprise us and have the means to implement what you dreamed of.
Thank you. This is a message from a helldivers far from his homeland. End of transmission

Hi all, I’m looking for an old game as the title describes. As far as I can remember you were a Dungeon boss who had to build a dungeon to stop humans from getting to the end of your dungeon/labrynth. You would use wall spikes, mobs (goblins or skeletons I can’t remember), tentacle things, and other dungeon-y traps. Art style was more cartoony than pixel or realistic. It had a darker sort of art style. I also vaguely remember some sort of guy giving you a tutorial and had a cloak. Any help would be appreciated cheers.

Hello dear super earth administrator,
I loved the game, and therefore I would allow myself in a humble way to suggest a few elements that would be really cool to expand the experience. Far from me being a sponsor, I suspect that you have thought about lots of things to implement in the games and what is feasible or just fantasy. But I am allowing myself to make the return of a player who was firmly waiting for Helldivers 2, being a player of the 1st opus (and therefore I suspect what could happen in the near future). And, by the way, I know that my experience is not the most classic and that not everyone does 350 hours. But once the maximum level, the maximum improvements, having done the maximum difficulties in a team of 4/3/2. And the last buff/nerfs is really good, the level 9 is most difficult without railgun ... Let me pass on to you what would keep my attention on the games.
From my point of view, what I would like to see in the game without going into detail and in a disjointed manner:
-Grind for exclusive elements (cosmetics, pack of voices, and so that the exp levels are of interest)
-Alpha monsters (different colors, rare, special loot, even hunt in a special way and in an unpredictable way)
-Series of missions to validate (2 batches of 3 missions to validate to have access to a special mission with a boss or an exclusive objective)
-A commando brigade (or as in the first, players cannot be pushed too far away and forced to play packed)
-Weapon customization (so that non-viable weapons can become viable, magazine, speed, bullet type, etc.)
-Single helmet (scout helmet type: night vision, veteran helmet: weak points highlighted, etc.)
-Obviously bosses, but I suspect it happens
-A pantheon in the ship or a hunting piece (like predator, with rare skeletons after you hunt them...)
-On the ship's TV, the helldivers of the week or Month (Or the team)
-a special environment (the closer we get to the mother planet of a race, the less human structure there is and therefore more structure specific to a race)
-Color variation on enemies (to unlock special armor colors)
-Fun strategic throws (with the foot, baseball, etc.)
-Special noise or scream for maximum tension (For Titan type monsters or even hordes, or unkillable enemy and all that remains is to escape...)
-Capture of species or technology (unique weapons, armor with special resistances...)
-Define an ultimate and common goal (a Leader per race, or a unique particular threat, etc.)
-Unique interactions (with people with whom they have completed a significant number of missions)
Well, I know that everyone would want different things, obviously you have your vision, and far from me the desire to give directives. In any case you really did a very good job, this Helldivers 2 is a success.(for me) And I hope that with the success of the game you will surprise us and have the means to implement what you dreamed of.
Thank you. This is a message from a helldivers far from his homeland. End of transmission

First - Previous
Sorry for the gap in posts. I have scrapped at least six version of this. I am almost happy with this one. I had a different ending, but decided to go with what I have now. I think it is better.
I am also about to get a full knee replacement. I was supposed to get it done on April 2, but things got in the way. I have been working on getting my house in order for someone who cannot walk. It has been a bigger chore than I thought. I also have been learning OnShape to design stuff with my 3D printer. I have even designed the Star Wanderer from Chapter 2. I am working on the Behemoth. I could not get the images to post here for some reason, but if you want to go see them in OnShape, here are the links to two of the ships.
https://cad.onshape.com/documents/1f4578581cf2ad6552b1d3a9/w/409acb296ee94b206655e899/e/e8210e7e7653f5e07402416a
https://cad.onshape.com/documents/e8b75276d1581baf4a12d234/w/9014167e3d03cf585531cafe/e/3d1bd1b3d973f84397b0969f
“… Allighetti …Mark, are you still with us?” I regained consciousness with Burns shaking me violently.
“Gyah. Stop! Yeah, I’m alive,” I spit blood and shook my head to clear the mental fuzz. “I think I have a concussion.”
The last missile strike had driven deep into the ODP’s hull, making it all the way to the missile feed system where we’d already been working to repair damage.
Burns accessed my suit’s med panel. “You got it right in one. Your suit’s a bit damaged. The autodoc is offline. Here…”
He overrode my suit with his, and I could already feel the auto-administered meds kicking in. The pain was still there, but bearable, and the fuzziness receded a bit.
“Thanks. I feel better already.”
I pulled the damage control system with my suit’s AI and checked what else just got damaged. It was more red than green.
“Shit. The station keeping drive is offline. Orbit is destabilized. If we don’t get it back online in… fifteen minutes, we are done,” I growled. “With everything damaged now, I don’t think we can repair the damage with the skeleton crew we have.”
“We better get on it then,” Burns replied.
“Skipper,” I tried to raise Commander Kowitzci. “Skipper? Chief Hanson? Anybody on the command deck? Simonetti? Can you hear me?”
“I hear you, sir,” Simonetti replied. He and Spec-One Zebediah Abrahams were on deck three repairing the power feeds to missile batteries six, seven, and eight. Six launchers made up each battery, so that was eighteen missile tubes out of action. A small percentage of the fleet’s launchers, but we only have twenty batteries. Those missiles were fifteen percent of our throw weight.
“Well, that means station coms are online and the CIC isn’t answering. We gotta get people in there. Drop what you are doing and head that way.” I’ve known the skipper most my life. There’s no way I could not go and make sure he is alive or not.
“Valencia, what’s your location?”
“We’re on deck seven, installing a new targeting computer for point defense group ten. Why?”
“That’s what I thought. You are closest to the CIC. Head down there now,” I ordered. “You’ll probably beat us, but if it is bad as I think, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“On my way,” he replied.
“We will meet you there.”
Burns grabbed my hand and helped me up. “Is this the right call? If we don’t get station keeping back online, we’re going down hard.”
“This bucket is going down no matter what we do. I am the senior surviving officer. Or at least the surviving officer who has working coms, so I get to make the call. We’re abandoning ship. We have ten minutes to find any injured and get them out.” I triggered the command through my suit’s coms. Across the ship, the lights switched from condition red for active combat to condition blue for abandon ship. Every crewman’s suits coms buzzed with the abandon ship order and ten minute timer.
“Shit.” I felt the same way. Nobody wants to abandon ship.
I headed to the lifts to get to the command deck as I pulled up the station schematics with the location of every crewman’s last known location, then filtered for who was not responding.
“We have the six people on the command deck unresponsive, Burkett and Torres in fusion one and Chief Khan in magazine one. Get down to mag-one and check on him,” I ordered.
Burns left without another word. I trusted him to get it done.
“Fletcher?” Senior Specialist Jason Fletcher and Specialist Second Class Dinah Moretti were in magazine three and the closest to fusion one.
“Yessir?”
“Burkett and Torres aren’t responding. Get down to fusion one. Check on them and get them out if you can.”
“We got it, boss,” Fletcher replied. “Go get the skipper.”
I was surprised. He must have been monitoring the channel. Fletcher and I had never really gotten along. He always irritated me with his slacking off, obnoxious sense of humor, and need to be the center of attention. But he had surprised me in the past few days. When the shit hit the fan, the man had buckled down and performed spectacularly. I guess getting shot at for real changes your attitude. He was still an ass, but now he was a hard working ass.
I set my coms to the full crew channel. “All personnel. Abandon ship. Find any injured crew you can and get them out. We have ten minutes until I set the scuttling charges.”
Whenever an ODP is damaged enough to abandon ship, it had to be scuttled or the whole core goes to the planet in one huge chunk. Scuttling the station meant it would be in over two dozen pieces that could burn up almost completely on reentry.
I made it to the central lifts, which were offline. The door still had power and my override code opened it. But I still had to climb nine decks to the command deck. Luckily the lifts are one of the few places aboard that do not have artificial gravity. It was just a matter of jumping in and pulling myself hand over hand.
“Mark,” Valencia often ‘forgot’ that I was now an ensign. I chose not to say anything, again.
“Go.”
“There is shit-ton of damage up here. The main lifts are shot to shit and there is debris blocking my way from lift two. I am going to try lift three.”
An Orbital Defense Platform is nothing more than a long cylinder with the missile launchers, energy weapons, sensors, and shields on the top and the external magazine and its docking systems at the other end. The station has twenty eight decks and is divided into four quarter ‘pie’ sections. The main personnel and missile lifts are located at the spine, in the exact center of the hull. Lift two serves the Bravo Section of the station and were near the exterior hull. Lift three is the next one around the outer hull serving Charlie Section.
“Roger. I’m in the main lift shaft now. I am climbing past deck eighteen.”
“You might beat me there,” Valencia replied.
“Do your best. If you can’t get there in five minutes, get to an escape pod and go.”
“Boss,” Simonetti’s voice cut into the conversation. “We can’t make it to the command deck. There’s a gaping hole between us and you.”
The damage from the most recent hits had reached deep into the hull, even as far as the central lifts. I’d passed multiple holes, from size of my fist to several that I could walk through.
“I understand. Abandon ship,” I ordered. “I will see you dirtside.”
“Shit. Are you sure? It might be risky, but we can go EVA to reach you. It is only about thirty meters.”
“No. And do me a favor. If I don’t make it, but a round in my memory.”
“Mark, you are to damned dumb to die. You can buy the round. See you on the surface. Good luck.”
“Thanks, I think.” As I climbed through some mangled lift guiderails my suit’s Geiger counter went crazy. The suit’s shielding could protect me in the short term, but I don’t want to hang out here for very long. The last few meters were difficult. I had to use my plasma cutter to remove a piece of shattered bulkhead that blocked my way. I looked at my chrono as I slipped into the command deck and saw I had five minutes… Just five minutes.
The command deck was a scene from hell. I saw at least one body and several body parts floating in the zero-g. “I’m in. What’s your status Valencia?”
“Almost there.”
I found Commander Kowitzci’s body pinned under a heavy beam that had collapsed from the ceiling and checked his suit’s medical panel. “The skipper’s still alive.”
I jumped in surprise when he grabbed my hand. I could see his lips moving but, I couldn’t hear anything. I pressed my faceplate against his, hoping the direct contact would allow sound to bridge between us.
“I got you, sir. The station’s done. I’ve given the order to abandon ship.”
“Go. Get yourself out. That’s an-”
“Don’t! Don’t give me that order, skipper, because I will disobey it.”
“I’m pinned and I cannot feel my legs. Even if you get me out, I am dead weight. Save yourself.”
“Skipper, I’ve known you since I was nine and Angus is one of my best friends. If you think I am going to tell him that I left you here to save myself, even if you ordered it, think again. Now, Valencia is almost here. Between the two of us we should be able to get you out. Hang tight. I am going to check on Chief Hanson.”
Chief Petty Officer Kenzie Hanson is one of the system’s best engineers. Unlike most of the crews, she is active Navy and had spent most of her career on these things. ODP 9 was not her normal duty station, but someone in operations had the brilliant idea to send her here to replace Chief Maartens.
Having someone with her experience coordinating damage control freed me and my people to fix what we could. Which in the end was not much, or at least not enough. The incoming missile fire had kept coming regardless of what the fleet did. It had turned into a battle of attrition, and while we had more resources than they did, our problem was that planets can’t dodge. The enemy could stay further out-system and lob missiles until they ran out, and we had no choice but to defend Verdigris, no matter what the costs.
“Hey, boss!” Valencia finally made it to the command deck. It brought a wave of relief.
“Glad you could finally join us. The skipper is pinned. Hansen is unconscious but alive. Check on Dahl and Ski.”
PO1 Grace Dahl and Master Specialist Gustavus Wasnewski were still strapped into their chairs at the tactical station.
“What about Dunagin and Stavros?” He asked.
“KIA.”
Hansen’s med panel showed she was alive, just unconscious. I released her shock frame and pulled her free. The command deck’s six escape pods were spaced along the outer bulkhead. Each pod could hold ten people. A redundancy in case any were damaged.
“Shit. Stavros is dead and Dahl’s suit already hit her with hybernol.” I could hear the simmering anger in Valencia’s voice. Stavros had been a good friend to all of us.
“Get her to a pod,” I ordered.
“What about Stav?”
“I am sorry, man, but the living are our priority.” I struggled to pull Hansen across the deck. Damn I am tired.
“I ain’t leaving him here. Not like this. I just can’t.”
“Fuck. If you can manage it… then do what you gotta do.” I didn’t have time to argue. Valencia could be a stubborn little shit when he wanted.
I was tired. Maybe that is why it took me so long to realize this rescue effort would be easier in zero-g.
I triggered the all hands channel and announced, “Clamp up, people. I am cutting internal gravity.”
I did not wait for any replies and quickly pulled up the control systems on my suit’s computer. With a few quick gestures, cut the power to the artificial gravity system. Pulling Hansen got easier immediately. Now I just had to fight mass and momentum without gravity’s negative effects.
I got her into the escape pod and returned to the skipper. My chrono showed I had less than two minutes to get him free or we might both die. I chose not to think to hard on that. I could be a stubborn little shit, too. He was still pinned under the beam, but it shifted a bit when I pulled with everything I had. It made me wish I had an Österlenlender here to help. One of those walking tanks could move like it was a paperweight.
I put everything I had into it, closing my eyes and grunting with the strain. I could feel the veins popping in my forehead. Then, the beam moved. I opened my eyes and saw Valencia next to me putting everything into helping me lift. The skipper managed to wiggle free, but we could see he was hurt pretty bad.
Valencia pulled the commander free, and I released the beam that slowly fell back to the deck. It took only a few seconds to get into the escape pod. Somehow, we managed to make the ten minute deadline.
Once the wounded were strapped in, I initiated the self-destruct sequence. It was SOP when something this size was abandoned in orbit. The smaller the size of the debris, the better chance it has to burn up on reentry. No need to add anything else to the planet’s woes.
“Attention. All hands, abandon ship. Self-destruct is set for one minute. Abandon ship, abandon ship, abandon ship, abandon ship. God speed.”
With that, I sealed the escape pod hatch and went to hit the eject button. But before I could, our luck ran out. Another wave of missiles detonated against our failing shields. The x-ray laser warheads mercilessly bored deep into the station. My suit’s radiation warning went off, letting me know my exposure had reached critical levels. The energy imparted by the lasers hit with physical force, blowing through the station’s armor and superstructure like a toddler ripping into a Christmas present.
Debris flew across the command deck and flames licked at my back. The explosion threw me into the back wall of the escape pod, painfully knocking the wind out of me. I tried to sit up but could not. My legs just wouldn’t work. I looked down, finally noticing the jagged spear of chromilstyn sticking out of my chest.
“Aw, shit.” It was the last words I said.

My players in there latest session have charmed a minotaur skeleton from their battle and still had it charmed when the session ended. They are a small party of a homebrew skeletal dragonborn sorcerer, a human druid, and a tiefling rogue. They are a new group with little in terms of physical defense. I think the minotaur could help with balance because of the creature's natural hp. My players are very new and I think this could be used to help them learn to favor a more diverse party in the future but I am not sure how to make it work. The minotaur is a minion of a pirate lich who's resurrecting an undersea God and I'm not sure how to allow them to basically steal this minion but not steal any other ones. Maybe I could have them work together to try and override it's magic but I'm just not sure. Any ideas or recommendations are greatly appreciated