NRV Frontier
07:00
The sea raged. Chunks of ice crashed against one another amid the waves, as an unseasonably powerful storm blasted the ocean surface white.
Inside of a dull blue shipping container bolted to the deck of the NRV Frontier, Dr. Finch braced herself against the steel wall as the ship rocked steeply. There were more and more interruptions in the steady rhythm of the waves she’d been trying to get used to all morning. Sleet and cold air blew in from the partly-ajar metal doors, seeming to follow the waves in fits and starts.
As the ship settled closer to level, she turned her attention back to a small computer screen, lightly fogged for a moment by her breath in the below-freezing temperatures. Despite the outward appearance of the shipping container, there was only a small alcove once could access inside before they were met with a wall of gray steel, whose construction made it abundantly clear that the shipping container surrounding it was little more than a facade.
A keyboard and screen folded out from a slot in the wall, which was covered in access ports and switches. There were dozens of stenciled markings, most in the obfuscatory pseudo-military jargon she’d gotten used to seeing at Janus-Hayes facilities. The name of the weapons system was ever-present: SCYTHE.
She hated having to entrust so much to something with such a loathsome name.
Using a trackball set into the keypad, Dr. Finch navigated through the rudimentary user interface. One menu displayed a real-time map of the island, with the locations of all of the Participants and Prototypes. The Participant locations weren’t necessary as far as her stated use-case for the weapons was concerned, but she had it programmed into the guidance system anyways. The possibility of some kind of Participant revolt was well within the experiment’s parameters, but she didn’t share the Director’s optimism that a revolt was doomed to fail. She felt no comfort in any sort of certainty, not with so many unknown variables on that island.
Dr. Finch glanced towards the door behind her, padding the right pocket of her heavy coat, where she now kept her pistol.
There were altogether too many unknown variables on the ship, as well. A few days spent with Sycamore and his team had made that much clear. While she wondered if it had been excessive at the time, the choice to use her leverage to bring this so-called failsafe onto the ship had been one of her better ones.
She clicked the menu labeled GUIDANCE PRESETS and watched as text flowed across the small flat screen. She worked quickly as the rocking ship and cold, bare fingers would allow.
VLS UNIT 1
PRESET CHARLIE - RADIOLOGICAL GUIDANCE SUBSYSTEM MOD IV - CUSTOM - ACTIVE
VLS UNIT 2
PRESET VICTOR - RADIO GUIDANCE SUBSYSTEM - DEFAULT - ACTIVE
VLS UNIT 3
PRESET ROMEO - RADIO GUIDANCE SUBSYSTEM - DEFAULT - ACTIVE
VLS UNIT 4
PRESET MIKE - GPS GUIDANCE SUBSYSTEM - GROUND ATTACK TARGET: SEVERNY NORIN INSTALLATION - ACTIVE
LAUNCH SYSTEM PRESET: 00:72:00:00
SAVE CHANGES?
Y/N
Finch sighed, and hit Y. The screen flickered once more, returning to the system’s main diagnostic menu.
00:71:59:50
She stared at the timer, slowly ticking down. Once the storm passed, she expected to return and disable it.
It was hard not to just want to let it wind down, and end this whole godforsaken enterprise altogether.
Clenching her jaw, she stood silently and continued watching the numbers count down. The bare-bones, almost pleasant UI of the launch system didn’t make much of the timer; it wasn’t in bright red, in the center of the screen as a warning to any passers-by that something terrible would transpire if it ran out. Only a small widget in the corner of the screen, barely noticeable if someone didn’t know what to look for. She wondered who designed the interface, and if they were the kind of person who fully appreciated just what kind of a business they’d contributed their time and energy into.
A banging on the side of the container roused her from her stupor, and she quickly folded the small keyboard back into its slot on the wall. The monitor dimmed, shutting down almost entirely save for the small timer running down at the bottom of the screen.
00:71:55:48
A gruff voice called from the entrance to the container.
“Hey! Erin! Dr. Finch!!”
She recognized the voice: the Frontier’s Captain. His name was (at least on paper) Captain Francisco Duarte, but he’d repeatedly introduced himself to the researchers as Frank. His personnel file was littered with extensive redactions, which for Janus-Hayes typically meant a long and varied list of international crimes. What information it did show was that he was by far the most experienced person on the ship when it came to these kinds of operations. The ship’s crew reported directly to him, and were loyal. While it theoretically put him on equal standing with Dr. Sycamore and Dr. Finch, at least by the numbers, in practice he was subordinate to whatever orders he’d been issued. In this case, his mission was to keep the ship afloat and its personnel secure; he made no overtures to interference. While this was nominally a good thing, it also meant she couldn’t trust him as an ally. At best, he was no less of an enemy than the company itself was.
A seasoned and somewhat neurotic-looking man, she had only interacted with him a few times. He had the face of someone who used to have a drinking problem, and almost seemed to wish he still had.
The banality of these kinds of people was almost the worst part of all of this. Finch looked down at the Janus-Hayes emblazoned parka she was wearing, and supposed she was just as much a part of that milieu now. Slipping a pair of winter gloves over the fingerless fabric gloves she was wearing underneath, Dr. Finch emerged and was met with the weathered face of Captain Duarte.
“Frank! Hey.”
“We’re nearly underway, but Doc Sycamore needs you for the briefing. I don’t want to push you but - we really need to get moving. I hope you’re fi-”
Cutting him off, she nodded and made for the door.
“Of course, I’m done here. Mind walking me back in? I’m - not used to this.”
“That’s the plan.”
Stepping out onto the deck, Finch winced as she was immediately struck by the sleet and icy wind blowing off of the sea. The Captain assisted her in the unsteady task of forcing the doors against the shipping container, so that she could close a heavy steel bolt and lock it with one of the two keys she wore around her neck.
The Captain couldn’t help but scrutinize the container, before moving to guide Dr. Finch along the precarious deck of the Frontier.
“Everything alright with your… ordinance?”
The discomfort in his tone was clear, though she couldn’t place it at first. As she’d become altogether too used to, Finch kept her answers vague.
“Yep. Just ran a test of the guidance systems.”
They stopped for a moment next to a bulkhead, as the ship pitched again. The Captain held out an arm, expecting her to stumble, and forced a smile when she shot back a glare.
He stole a glance back at the container again. “You actually had to come all the way out here for it? I thought they gave you a briefcase?”
Finch shook her head. “We’re not going to get real-time data once you move the ship. Too much latency, and our drones can’t fly that far in bad weather. In case something goes wrong, we can’t take any chances. The remote station is just a controller, the actual guidance computer is in the container.”
It was also the only way to lock out the fire control system. Whether he inferred some nefarious purpose on her part or not, she couldn’t tell.
Captain Duarte had begun to walk across the deck again when he seemed to fully register information, sighed, and then spat overboard.
“Ó meu Deus.”
“What?”
“You people. If your little experiment was running a month from now this would all be ice. Calm. Frontier’s rated as an icebreaker. But if I’m hearing you right, since it’s now and we’re in the shit, you might not be able to signal any of your other failsafes. The collars, the mercs, the drones - so your only other option in case things go belly-up is to launch missiles at it?.
“We shouldn’t have to.”
The Captain continued, stopping only as they reached the bulkhead that would lead them inside, placing his hand on the heavy steel door. It was no use lowering his voice out here, but his tone changed nonetheless as Dr. Finch walked into the small alcove.
“Listen, I’m nervous as hell about keeping four tons of explosives on the deck. Even more nervous that there’s a civilian in charge of it. It’s why I am out here talking to you and not some gofer. That container out there is just one more dangerous thing I’ve gotta tell my people to not look at too closely.”
“If you knew what would happen if we-”
“Save it. I get it. I’ve been doing this a long time. Seen shit that’ll make you rethink having eyes in your skull. Just - make sure you do it right. You have to come out here again, ask. I don’t want the lady with her finger on the trigger ending up overboard.”
Finch took a deep breath of the frigid, wet air, and forced a smile before reaching for the door.
“Thanks. I will.”
—
The inside of the ship was disorientingly calm compared to the raging winds outside. While the morning had been a flurry of movement with crew and research personnel working hard to button up the ship and stow away anything that might roll or fall in bad weather, Finch found most of the staff relatively idle. Small groups passed the time in the ship’s small lounges, playing cards, watching episodes of Star Trek on laptops, or chatting quietly over cups of tea or coffee.
Just outside of the experiment’s main control room, she passed a few of the research staff - half her team, half Sycamore’s - sat next to a whiteboard they’d clearly pulled out of one of the labs. On it, she could see the names of several of the participants - with dollar values assigned to them.
Still halfway out of her parka, she paused and listened. They hadn’t spotted her just yet.
“I’m going all in on the Marine.” One of Sycamore’s team. Older. Her last name was Robinson; she had a family, several nieces and nephews. This was supposed to be for them.
“Carl? Come on. A guy like that’s gonna snap.” Alan Fields. He’d been putting together test scenarios for the other Chimera larvae. Some of them seemed promising. He believed in their mission. Finch expected better.
“Nah. Crayon-eater knows his shit.” Rumina, former Army Intelligence, dishonorably discharged. Complete disaster of a personal life, but dedicated to her craft. There was little else she seemed to excel at, which seemed to be a pretty consistent theme among Sycamore’s team.
“You put money on him too?”
Nods of agreement.
“I’m all in on the British girl.” Piped up Lucas, one of her lab technicians. They didn’t need dirt on him - he knew what he was doing. At least, she thought so.
“Which one?”
“The uhh - the transgender with the flamethrower.”
The transgender. All else notwithstanding, that struck a nerve.
Finch strode up to the group, who all seemed to squirm at the sight of her. Rumina seemed to reach for the whiteboard, before realizing she didn’t have a plan on what to do with it.
“She has a name, Lucas. It’s Kay. What the fuck are you doing?”
He shrank in his seat. There was an explanation, of course. A sensible, not-fucked-up explanation, and he’d just explain it to her. Of course.
“Erin - sorry, I don’t know if anyone told you. Since we turned over surveillance to the island team today, we figured we could just-”
“I know why you’re not at your stations. What is this? Are you running a dead pool on our Participants?”
Robinson looked up the hallway, as if someone could intervene. “Umm… yeah? It’s not just us, we’ve got-”
“It’s no one. Because this stops right fucking now. I don’t know what kind of clown show Sycamore is running over there, but you two should know better. This isn’t a game. We’re destroying lives here. You don’t ever forget that they have names.”
Fuming, Finch snatched the board off of the table and threw it down the hallway. It skidded across the tile floor, sliding to hit the opposite wall as the ship pitched again. Noting the increasingly dire conditions, she barely managed to stow her anger for the time being.
“Fields, Diaz. Both of you are going to meet me at my cabin after the announcement. I’m gonna find a job for you, since you’re making such shit use of all of this free time.”
The two members of Sycamore’s team seemed eager to excuse themselves, which Finch obliged them to do with one word:
“Leave.”
—
Dr. Sycamore must’ve heard the conversation, because she found him looking up from his desk as she entered the control room, an inscrutable smile on his face.
“I was beginning to think I’d have to do this without you.”
A travel mug began to slide off of the desk, which he caught without missing a beat.
“Just making sure we’re not making a mistake by turning this over to the surveillance station.”
Sycamore paused mid-sip. “You don’t trust our ground team?”
“I don’t trust you. You can’t blame me for having little faith in the cabal of psychopaths we left out there.”
He returned a smile, shaking his head.
“Gardner’s not a psychopath. Garuda and Leander - well, you’re probably right, but they’re properly incentivized. I don’t expect there’ll be any issues with leaving it in their hands for a day. Loyalty or lack thereof notwithstanding, there’s a baseline competency there that I think can account for any problems caused by the inclement weather.”
"If you say so."
Finch sat down beside Sycamore, rubbing her hands together, still clad in fingerless gloves. Water dripped from the ice crusted around her parka, now slumped across a chair nearby. She glanced at the map, the dots representing the Participants now beginning to lag slightly as the signal degraded in the storm.
Her mind was still racing. Hypocritical moral outrage blasting white noise over musings on the evolution of their prototypes, all while trying to anticipate and react to whatever game Sycamore was going to play now once the real-time feeds cut out.
“Erin, are you expecting something to go wrong?”
She turned to him, noting what seemed like genuine concern on his face.
“Aren’t you?”
00:71:42:10
SOTF: U - The Second Announcement
Moderator: SOTF U Staff
Severniy Norin
08:00
The jarring tones of the island’s ad hoc PA system blared out, heard even amidst the intense wind whipping across the island. The PDAs came to life once again, with a small LED next to the screen blinking green, with the notable exception of those belonging to deceased Participants.
19/10/22 ANNOUNCEMENT AVAILABLE
PLAY RECORDING?
PLAY RECORDING?
Hi everyone! We're back.
I must apologize for the long and unexpected delay between announcements. Limitations, unfortunately, are something I've been fighting against lately. However, I understand that there wasn't enough communication as to the delay in the game and for that I unreservedly apologize.
Consequently, I will be resetting the activity timer to today's date. All characters now are considered active, which will give any of you who have been waiting on posts or waiting for the day change some time to get back into the (hopefully) regular pace of the game.
As usual, the Prototypes have now been assigned their Day 3 flags in secret, which will apply to all threads set on the third day only.
For a reminder on how the Prototype Death Flags work, check out the Prototype Hunting Rules.
If you would like to ping the Prototypes for a death, consult the Prototype Kills post for more information.
To clarify the announcement above, the danger-zones of the Wastes, Frozen Lake, and Airstrip are considered enforced by environmental hazard, and the standard rules apply.
Now, Day 3's rolls:
1. P05 - Rachana Kumar (almostinhuman)
2. P25 - Naomi Faith (WorldFat)
3. P07 - Kay Poultier (Pippin) P01 - Darren Decker (Fiori)
4. P21 - Arthur "Art" Miles (DerArknight)
Given the extended break, you will have five days to play cards and a slightly extended death deadline of April 23, 2023. Please PM Help_U with any questions.
Our next set of rolls will take place in the last week of April, leading into the latter half of Day 3.
See you out there!
Unfortunate! I would rather a hero since I haven't had a lot of time to be with Naomi. That and because I dunno if I can do her death justice since I have to write a paper here and there.
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almostinhuman
- Posts: 647
- Joined: Sun Jul 12, 2020 7:06 pm
No heroes thank you, I was gonna hero out this rollset anyway lol
Probably also set for deaths but if you wanna die in a fiery blast hmu
Probably also set for deaths but if you wanna die in a fiery blast hmu
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DerArknight
- Posts: 684
- Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 9:47 pm
- Team Affiliation: Jewel's Leviathans
No heroes or pitches for Art required. His fate was decided on long ago.
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Pippi
- Posts: 1121
- Joined: Tue Aug 07, 2018 6:32 pm
- Location: I'm Pip!
- Team Affiliation: Stephanie's Buccaneers
Oh goddamnit.
I was really really dreading this might happen. Kay is an incredibly important character to me, she touches on a lot of very important bases and emotions that I think come through in my writing for her, and I KNOW she still has so much more to give; her storyline isn't close to being done yet. A hero would mean the absolute world to me and I wouldn't be able to thank you enough for one.
I was really really dreading this might happen. Kay is an incredibly important character to me, she touches on a lot of very important bases and emotions that I think come through in my writing for her, and I KNOW she still has so much more to give; her storyline isn't close to being done yet. A hero would mean the absolute world to me and I wouldn't be able to thank you enough for one.
Heroing Kay Poultier with Darren Decker.
Already have an idea in mind, but will let folk know if I need a new one.
Already have an idea in mind, but will let folk know if I need a new one.
Kicking Akamatsu in the face since 2010
Oh! And if there are no heroes played, please send death pitches. My discord is WorldCat#1275.
Two more days for Cards; Chimera is no longer available for deaths (unless stated by DM), although the other two Prototypes are.
SOTF: U
Evan Keane: "I guess my world was always gonna end, somehow."
SOTF Supers:
August Hanlon - "This never felt like much of a Gift."
Evan Keane: "I guess my world was always gonna end, somehow."
SOTF Supers:
August Hanlon - "This never felt like much of a Gift."
Two notes:
The death of P21 - Arthur "Art" Miles has been taken over by Applesintime, who will be writing out the character.
Deadlines have been extended once again on request; rolls will be posted in the coming week.
The death of P21 - Arthur "Art" Miles has been taken over by Applesintime, who will be writing out the character.
Deadlines have been extended once again on request; rolls will be posted in the coming week.