Ghostwriter

Ghostwriter
#51
RE: Ghostwriter
Hm. My inclination is to extract them wholesale, honestly.
Suddenly being placed in a universe not their own would be difficult enough for them without having to ask uncomfortable questions; questions such as their relation to their original remaining in the nickel.
Or they might wonder if they are the original, and a duplicate is living their life inside the nickel.

I don't suppose this sort of thing comes up often when working on nickels?
Have to imagine more than a few ghosts have voiced their concerns on the matter.
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.
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#52
RE: Ghostwriter
(05-22-2018, 10:57 PM)Arcanuse Wrote: »Hm. My inclination is to extract them wholesale, honestly.
Suddenly being placed in a universe not their own would be difficult enough for them without having to ask uncomfortable questions; questions such as their relation to their original remaining in the nickel.
Or they might wonder if they are the original, and a duplicate is living their life inside the nickel.

I don't suppose this sort of thing comes up often when working on nickels?
Have to imagine more than a few ghosts have voiced their concerns on the matter.

It comes up plenty often. Some small part of me questions why any creation would hate their creator. There is no perfect way to do this job, there is only the truthful way, and lying to any person about their existence is outside my comfort zone. If there are two copies of a consciousness, they are different people the moment they interact with a different environment. But ghosts can be petulant, and they will ask the question relentlessly.

If it's the will of you all, I will indeed extract them wholesale. For some consciousnesses, it is reassuring to know some version of themselves is completing their 'arc'-- but again, this isn't inherently necessary. Neither option lacks its flaws.
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#53
RE: Ghostwriter
clone them, leave putty and yaffensash.

how are they going to continue existing without our further worldbuilding given that they're explicitly on a voyage through deep space into the unknown
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#54
RE: Ghostwriter
(05-22-2018, 11:23 PM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »clone them, leave putty and yaffensash.

how are they going to continue existing without our further worldbuilding given that they're explicitly on a voyage through deep space into the unknown

It's not the hardest writing exercise to put a future in place, though for now they're headed to the moon-- I thought that would make for a nice base of operations for the lizards.

Either way, since sale of nickel lines comes typically a growth after rough draft, there's plenty of time to come back and touch things up.
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#55
RE: Ghostwriter
[Image: 9s21EtK.png]

In the middle of their restless sleep, Belfry and Dime walk to a new gray metal platform in the center of the room. They stand on it together, and nothing seems to happen. The platform disappears once again, and they walk back to their bedding to continue sleeping.

I extract our two ghosts. Yaffenhash and Puffy are a later-thing, maybe, and regardless of all that, they act as peripheries for Belfry and Dime to grow as people. One copy is immediately transferred to The Tower, while our copy awakens. I always like how suddenly they pop into existence-- pushing out air, displacing it, making a new home. I have split them up into separate interview rooms- I have six spare down the hall- and begin with Dime.

Dime is terrified. The melanocarpet keeps him tame long enough to sit down and talk to me. I have a fascination for chairs, and to make people feel equal and calm, all the chairs in the interview room are the same size. There are windows facing the skyline of this city, blinking in lingual charm, and the rustic, calm interior tends to put even the most confused person at ease. I bring the aggregator in with me to continue typing.

He is not handling the news entirely well. I usually open the talk with as much honesty as possible-- but the demand to 'go back' is met with a stern look. I want to deny that as an option in their head, and eventually ghosts deny it as an option for themselves, too, especially when leaving involuntarily. I tell him that Belfry is in the other room, but that they can't talk just yet.

"This is the larger universe," I say. "That isn't to discredit the one you came from at all, nor to make your struggles seem meaningless. They are meaningful; they are also something that you've been given the privilege of escaping."

Dime becomes slightly hysterical, at that. He begins to sob. I offer an appendage forth; he does not take it. "I'm r-real," he stammers.

"Yes, of course. Your origin doesn't deprive you of reality. We're as real as each other, real as this table-- see?" I knock on the Voʒarus-sourced wood and let it hum. "Real as all the things you've experienced in your life, real as all the people you've ever met, real as all the things you've done."

I know it is jarring for some, and spend time with Dime until this jarring sensation fades. He seems to understand me. I can never be sure. When I cannot be sure, that's a good sign of a developed consciousness, as he is. He is ripe with potential, and shines in my mind as somebody who can grow through all of this. "So this... i-is... higher up?"

"In a sense," I say. "Yes. That's usually the way I tell it."

"Is there a-another... h-higher up?"

It's a great question, and I chuckle to reassure him. "We have tools of finding out, and I assure you we're not; regardless, it doesn't matter. Once again, we're as real as anything. And I see good things in store for you."

The talk lasts a while. He fades in and out of understanding. His form is that of a tripodal, and his clothes reform themselves into their dry form without his knowing. He adjusts his hat from time to time, probably subconsciously. His clothes are a remnant of his status as ghost, as is his holster, but there is no stun-gun within-- even if there were, it'd be useless. Ghosts are form, less substance. Even a club loses its 'oomph' if it is part of their form. So he outfits himself in clothes. He becomes his most comfortable form, as they ought to.

I leave him for a moment to talk to Belfry.

She is more lucid: character trait, inherent. She has begun trying to break out when I enter, and I suspect the melanocarpet is the only thing keeping her from attacking me. I motion for her to sit, and look as sympathetic as I can. They don't communicate like me, and my voice is tired out, so I let it rest for a moment while I wait for her tantrum to end. She screams in my face, and I take a drink of my water, rehydrate, rehydrate, rehydrate.

"Please, Belfry," I begin.

"Fuck you! How do you know my name?!" she screams.

"I'm trying to explain that to you, but--"

Her hands grip the table; it is stuck to the floor, or else her hands just can't muster the oomph. She is reptilian, and her form morphs freeform, anger welling itself up in literal bursts of energy, her scales exploding and reforming and scaling and reforming. She wants to lift something, erase something, destroy something. This is counterproductive. I tell her that I want to explain everything, but I can't if she's not willing to listen.

"And," I say, "if you don't want to hear any of it, you're perfectly alright discovering the bulk of it outside."

Hum.

It doesn't help. Belfry would rather fight than understand. Her hope and belief holds strong; it's something I pride myself on. She is full of it, yet it eats her up. Her consciousness shows itself in the tears she sheds and the way her voice breaks as she screams. Her uniqueness manifests in the way she tears her eyes apart and pushes on the walls, and every bit of her wants to kill me, and every bit of her wants to be free, and no bit of her wants to listen. This is a horrible nightmare, and all she wants to do is wake up.

"Dime is alright, for what it's worth. Everybody is. But for the moment--"

"This isn't REAL!"

She wants to wake up. She wants to wake up. She wants to wake up.

Incessant; true. How could I deny that there is a spark of real life and real terror in that gaze, in that moment? I say that she can mull it over. I step back into the hall, back into my office, and sit comfortably.

Let's mull over something for a moment.

Nickels, and ghosts by extension, have three distinct purposes.

The first and least interesting is for monetary support.
Each and every nickel that we create (that reaches maturity, at least) is usable as a pocket universe for those who desire to experience it from the inside. Now, I assign no perfect glamour to the people who purchase one copy of any given nickel-- there is a non-insignificant portion who use it for rather twisted purposes. However, I include myself and many of my peers in the category of people who use it for the intense experience of exploration. These universes can be as vast as ours, and are populated with the same amount of intricacy and detail as any nearby galaxy.

The people who may purchase copies of a line of nickels have varied interests. This one, which has taken me not long to complete, has its own market. There is also a very potent market for established fictional universes, such as those from books, film, or other media throughout the universe. These are not my venture, as they require much longer and a dedicated team to create-- our method today filled out the details through naturalism, while an established universe must be fine-crafted for much, much longer. However, people will pay immense sums for something specially-crafted like this.

Harbingers like myself have many core values, and one of our primary beliefs- the elimination of automated infrastructure and artificial intelligence- means that money to support the creation of nickels is important. You may say what you like about the consequences of this practice: it is the only reason I can do my wonderful job correctly.

The second is creating foreign consciousnesses.
Consciousness is a valuable thing. No person I know can argue against that. There is much consciousness in the universe, however, and it is easy for a layman to claim that this entire process is a bit pointless, so much energy and time poured into just a handful of souls. However, this is far from the case. Surprising as it might be to some, ghosts are the most valuable form of consciousness known to the universe, and it's for one particular reason.

Schoolchildren nowadays (on properly developed colonies) are taught the rules of our universe. Only the highest-educated, however, learn the plain fact that these rules are in constant, unending, violent flux. This is why player-controlled beings can exist. This is why time travel can exist. This is why trans-dimensional objects can exist. But it is not simple innovation that causes our universe's rules to bend and flux-- instead, it is consciousnesses which quintessentially have a different outlook on reality.

Every reputable study has shown that eighty-six percent of massive innovations in all of technology and infrastructure have been made by ghosts.

This is why we send them out in the world, and this is why we make them struggle: through that struggle, they create, they improvise, they work. And through that work, we better the universe on an immense, untouchable scale.

The third, and most unknowable, is donating foreign consciousnesses to The Tower.

Organized by the Harbinger Creator in its years of prime, The Tower is a network stretching near-infinitely from the center of the universe towards the outside-- and it is, by all known definitions, invincible. This impenetrable object contains a copy of every ghost ever taken from nickels in our line of work, as well as several trillion volunteers who have visited it for whatever reason on their journey through Harbinger Space. There is no conceivable way to know exactly why they are being organized at this time, but many have theories.

I have donated my imprint to it, as well. My take on The Tower is that it is a matrix which contains as much information about as many consciousnesses as possible in the very real and possible event of a total-universe collapse-- and may bring existence back where there is nothing. This, however, is still just one theory of mine. What I know most is that Belfry and Dime have been sent to The Tower today, and they constitute another piece of the puzzle which is ever-creating itself.


...So.

With that all in mind.

As part of the program to make ghosts improvise and innovate, I always separate them from each other, forcing them to fight to once again link up.

I would like some tips on what else to say to Belfry and Dime before they go. I would also like some ideas on places to send them.
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#56
RE: Ghostwriter
belfry needs introduced to large-scale charitable operations

dime needs to be taught that ACAB

they should not be allowed to meet each other until belfry calms down and stops clawing at the walls of reality, even if that means keeping them apart for literal years
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#57
RE: Ghostwriter
No advice as to handling the duo.
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.
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#58
RE: Ghostwriter
(05-23-2018, 02:17 AM)Arcanuse Wrote: »No advice as to handling the duo.

I did spot an earlier revision of this message, I/O. You referred to some strings you could pull-- so you are in this universe, aren't you? That saves me a bit of explanation, but I suppose not every person has interacted with a ghost-- or even a Harbinger.

Well, don't feel pressured to mention any more than you're comfortable with. I have a distinct feeling that even if I don't push Dime and Belfry into any particular field, they'll find their way through the universe productively somehow. But I am also very open to some physical assistance, if you'd like to take one or the other under your 'wing', so to speak.

(05-23-2018, 01:25 AM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »dime needs to be taught that ACAB

they should not be allowed to meet each other until belfry calms down and stops clawing at the walls of reality, even if that means keeping them apart for literal years

Yes, this makes sense. The plan was to scatter the both of them through Common Space at near-opposite ends, forcing them to spend a very long time relocating each other. This helps with the second goal of this project, mentioned earlier, if they are presented great difficulty. These two especially seem to be interested in each other's company, though Dime is acting... strange.

I go back to his room, first. He is quiet, and tilts his head to look around the environment intently. As I sit back down, he locks eyes with me.

"What's that flashing thing?" he says, pointing to the Input Aggregator.

"A little device that helps me keep inspired," I reply. It's not entirely untrue. You bunch have helped plenty with writer's block.

He gulps slowly. "...Did you make me?"

A slow shrug. "Does that change anything?"

"I always th-thought it'd be different if I-I ever, uh... met my... maker."

"Different how?" I lean forth. Eyes aren't intrusive. I like to hear people.

Dime lets out a long breath. "Guess it just seemed like it would be a bigger deal for you."

"Well, it's always nice to meet new people. But this is... casual, I hope that's clear. None of this has to be a big deal, and I think it's easier when it isn't."

"I..." Dime lets out a shuddery breath. So much internal thought-- I can see it. Consciousness blooms like a flower, and I love the way its nectar blooms. "I want to get back to what's i-important to me."

My body slumps a bit. "I know, Dime. But for the good of the entire universe, you need to put all that behind you. I promise it's in good hands. If it'd help you, we can even figure out what your future is, in there."

A tear drifts from one of his eyes. "I want to be there. I w-want to be p-part of it."

"You are, Dime."

I take a moment to bring the nickel into Dime's quarters, as well as my writing apparatus. He stares intently into the viewfinder, the same mechanism by which I created him, and the weeping in him grows. He watches himself, Yaffenhash, Belfry, Puffy. I speed things up a bit; give a nudge and a wink to the parameters for a moment. His eyes glaze over with tears. The ship flies through empty space, and dozens of moments of intimacy appear between the characters of our contained story. "They l-look so happy," he whispers.

"Don't see them as the lucky ones," I say, sweetly. "Their lives are important to them. But you have escaped those confines-- and your options are so much greater."

The ship lands on the moon. He watches with intent as the group deploys a form of diplomacy to make it past the armed lizard guards, and navigate to the center of the reptilian base, to begin discussing the end-game of their little world.

"You know," I mention off hand, "you might not want to be a cop out in this universe."

"Wh-why not?"

Another shrug. "Many aren't a fan of them. It's just a thought."

His head pokes up against the viewfinder, like he's trying to push inside of it. It's cute, amidst the emotion. Tough to say all the things running through that mind-- fun to think of, but not entirely reasonable to expect to read. One of the great things of escaping a nickel is the absolute freedom from control, which I am sure horrifies those unlucky few who discover their entrapment.

This is why, for all nickels I design, the characters are never aware that they are not on the top level-- until the very last moment, when they are either plucked, or make the decision to leave. Even characters aware of the existence of nickels must believe they are ascending to the very highest point. I save them this existential fear. One of my most prolific groups of ghosts- a total of fifty-three- was a half-dozen layers deep in fiction after fiction, and it wasn't even by intention.

For that universe, the characters within my topmost layer gained the nickel technology I know use, and began producing their own 'ghosts'. It wasn't until the last ascension that they became the ghosts we can properly use in our universe. Following this story took weeks out of my time, but it was one of the greatest experiences of my life, and it all happened without a single poke or prod.

It's hard to make things like that happen. Truly, it's all luck, if you don't make any edits. That doesn't mean you lack fully-realized consciousnesses-- those are floating all around all the time. But even if we don't design our own ghosts, as we did with Dime and Belfry, we still must use discretion to pick out ones of especial note. This method simply eliminates the time-wasting search, the luck involved.

...I apologize for the side-rant. I think about these things a lot, though. They excite me to think about. Seeing Dime's rather pointless attempts to force himself back into a pocket universe, sobbing to himself, reaffirms the beauty of what I can do here.

The nickel characters struggle and unite. This part of the story is a testimony from all four of them-- I watch Yaffenhash grow especially as a person, as she realizes the crushing oppression that the reptilians have been enacting in secret, and how they betray her admittedly idealistic attempts to help the world. Just as a compromise seems to be brewing, with Dime at its forefront, Yaffenhash disrupts things with the firing of a weapon-- and all hell breaks loose.

Something has snapped in her. She has seen so much will in the tripodals that she won't let her 'people' snuff them out. Belfry is happy to join in, and for a moment, the old friends are one part again. The blue-clothed reptilian adopts her true identity wholesale, and this battle is for the fate of millions.

"What's m-making this happen? Are y-you doing this?" Dime asks quietly.

"No," I assure him. "See?" My hands retract from the machine, letting it play at normal speed. "This is all happening naturally, like much of what came before. It's real in the truest sense."

He sits back a bit. I can see acceptance setting in slowly. He is separating in mind and body from the Dime in the nickel. "How d-does it... uh. How d-does it end?"

I lighten up. He's getting it, now.

The tripodals have fought against the reptilians, and they have prevailed. With the compound largely under control, the battered four of our main characters (I believe Rocks can be taken out wholesale without any structure missing) retrieve the controls of the ships, all approaching the moon. Yaffenhash and Dime team up together to redirect them, instead sweeping over common shipping routes and giving boat-goers a chance to enter. The lowermost doors will open, and crews will be able to board-- perhaps take control, and certainly get to the moon, where supplies can keep them alive.

"Then the Refugians..." Dime starts, almost enthusiastically.

I lean back, and let the nickel pause. "That's a bit of a problem, see. We hadn't quite figured out what would happen when they came, yet."

His eyes narrow. "I th-thought you said it was... n-natural."

"But there's almost no Refugia written. Because it happens so late in your story, we hadn't figured that out yet. So maybe you can help a bit in finishing it." Dime's gaze turns to me in horror. There is so much running through that gaze, so many words unspoken. I offer an appendage to him, which he does take, and I say, "I know. It's strange. But this is why I am happy to have you with me here, now."

He is ready, I think. After this pause, we did, indeed, dedicate ourselves to writing the fate of the nickel's inhabitants. It took about an hour, and by the end, I feel I'd gained some real rapport with Dime. I even got him to laugh a few times. He was made to be like that: somebody who finds humor in terrifying situations. It helps him cope.

When we decide on a location to send him, I will say my farewells, and prepare a teleporter.

As a sidenote: the Yaffenhash in the nickel seems approximately ready to be brought to life. If that's something we'd like to do, I don't mind handling her debrief on my own.

(05-23-2018, 01:25 AM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »belfry needs introduced to large-scale charitable operations

they should not be allowed to meet each other until belfry calms down and stops clawing at the walls of reality, even if that means keeping them apart for literal years

She is sat when I enter with the input aggregator in hand. When I sit across the table, she does not speak initially. Perhaps she's spent the hour mulling over all of this in peace.

"How are you doing?"

Belfry stiffens before replying with decisiveness. "Ready to leave."

I huff slowly. "That's always an option. I hope we're clear what 'leaving' means, though."

"This is clearly not real. I fell asleep, I started dreaming. You're like some kind of ocean creature and you're talking to me and this room makes me want to die. I can't fucking do anything because it's like the floor is holding me down and you know everything about me and my whole life and I want to leave."

"I'm sorry that you feel that way," I say. "What can I do to change your mind?"

Her gaze grows fiery. "You're not going to 'change my mind', asshole. I've got places to be, and you're in the way."

I have to chuckle softly. "I appreciate your energy, Belfry. It actually reminds me of somebody very much like you-- a young woman who was having some difficulty with being in your situation, as well. Her name is Geneviève Mâché."

[Image: g3Hw6rB.png]

"Gene was placed in a very difficult scenario. She was the product of a happenstance which was the product of a happenstance which was the product of a happenstance-- and her existence troubled her even from the beginning, when she learned she was contained within a nickel. Through months of trials and tribulations, her and her cohort ascended from this nickel to find themselves in yet another one, but once that puzzle had been figured out, the ascended to a universe that they found familiar. Their old home. The place they had been born, and the place whose rules they followed.

Her story had been completed. Geneviève Mâché was the hero at the forefront, aided by the people behind her and several mysterious 'inputs', from a device like this one I'm holding. She finally rested and felt whole, content with the person she had become and the trials she had gone through.

But something was wrong. Everything was wrong. As she traveled to a new home for the first time, she found a familiar sight-- fifty-two colored circles, one for each of her cohort, resting atop a sickly blue metal platform. This was how she had ascended from each level in the past, and now her reality began to break down around her. Barely holding composure, she retrieved her people for another ascension, and woke up in a universe where all they had known in their past was false.

They were created, fictional, ghosts. The world they woke up on was absent of the magic and time-travel and heroes of their age, and was instead a society in a cold war with its alien counterpart-- and they had been created to try and act as heroes for this world, too. Not by fighting, but with diplomacy.

You can expect-- no, ha, you can relate!-- to Gene's immediate rejection of this goal, and her rejection of this reality. She wouldn't move her body to follow these commands, and as I watched her, I understood. I understood fully. To force her to live in yet another false universe was pure cruelty; so, as the figure at the top of this metaphorical mountain, I took her and her cohort out, and placed each one in a room much like this one.

Geneviève Mâché did not think she was dreaming, but she did think that this, too, was fake. She wasted no time in getting out of this room and exploring what she believed to be a fictional place. While her cohort went on to do rather interesting things with themselves, separate or united, Gene was a very special case. Her unending desire to discover the next 'gate' consumed her life for growths, dozens of growths. And, in a way, all this work paid off. At the end of an endless trail, she discovered definitive proof that we existed independently of any above force-- a discovery which earned her fame and renown that I could never accomplish, myself. It was her experience with layered universes that made her able to make this discovery and so many more.

She is an incredible person, Belfry. She has accomplished so much. It was her hate for her environment, her need to escape, that inspired her unending brilliance. Even today, she continues persevering, improving. Her outlook has changed a lot, as you can probably imagine. But I believe she is happy. Even through her unending vitriol towards me, I can sense the faintest bit of 'thanks' within her acid words.

I can sense she appreciates having been created, even if it were an accident on my part. There is no love for me, Civvie, arrogant and selfish god that I am-- but there is a love for existence, and I hope you can achieve that love."


Belfry does not move. I suspect she is looking for a sharp object to impale me with. "Of course, Belfry, this is all difficult. This is a new environment, an entirely new story you must write for yourself. And I know that you can adapt to environments, I know you're the sort that will work to make things the way they should be, and I know you'll persevere through this sudden change. The reason why is--"

I shift my weight forward. My eyes lower. I am taller than this ghost, and I am more corporeal. "I made you that way."

I have stepped outside for a moment. There will be another brief moment of interview with each of them before I send them off to wherever they may go. For now, I need some input on where that should be. Different locations for each one, as I mentioned.

Thank you for all your help. Next transmission ought be my last.
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#59
RE: Ghostwriter
Send Belfry to the state-of-the-art space station Mime Crypt Omicron, where she can integrate as a crew member.
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#60
RE: Ghostwriter
Ah. I did say that, yes.
Truthfully, it was revised due to having second thoughts on the matter.
The duo will have enough difficulties sorting our their lives in this universe, shuffling them off to a line of work revolving around building passages between them would be asking for trouble.

...
SpoilerShow

As for Yaffenhash, I'm inclined to agree.
Although they feel like their still missing something, I feel that should resolve itself with a bit of life experience outside the nickel.

SpoilerShow
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.
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#61
RE: Ghostwriter
again, i insist we send belfry on some sort of charity work where they can throw themselves utterly into helping others. a helper with doctors without borders in space or something

send dime to school. he's got the type of nebbish disposition well-suited to academia
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#62
RE: Ghostwriter
(05-24-2018, 01:48 AM)Arcanuse Wrote: »Ah. I did say that, yes.
Truthfully, it was revised due to having second thoughts on the matter.
The duo will have enough difficulties sorting our their lives in this universe, shuffling them off to a line of work revolving around building passages between them would be asking for trouble.

...
SpoilerShow

Ah, that was it! Breach surveying. I have personally spent so long cooped up in this office that I sometimes forget the wonderful, dangerous, admirable art of traveling between existing planes. While nickels are well and entertaining in their own right, your job carries the weight of absolute uncertainty. We ought get a drink together sometime.

I believe Dime, at least, would do well in this environment. As a former officer of the law, but with a heart more suited for greater endeavors, putting him in with your sort of job might be the perfect fit. With the additional clause:

(05-24-2018, 03:53 AM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »send dime to school. he's got the type of nebbish disposition well-suited to academia

He may work well as a field agent, but even better as somebody who researches to improve your line of work. I know you're not native to here, but as I am, it would be easier for us to meet up with Dime in tow somewhere mutually familiar-- are you allowed in space bars? If so, they're quite reputable this side of the Core, and Harbingers treat travelers like you well, I/O. Myself included. I can't tell you the number of times my livelihood has been at risk from mimeods, and though I suppose you're retired now, there's a not-impossible chance you've had some hand in my survival.

Oh, this has me excited. A perfect place for somebody like Dime, I think. I saw that glimmer in his eyes when I showed him how to write directly to his nickel. He has the taste for exploration and intrigue, deep in that ghostly soul.

Provided you're able to make such a trek, meet me at the Misty Mystery, Common-side of the Core on a bit of a back-beat space station-- Starnet ought have an easy way to find it. I'll bring Dime and myself in a cycle, once I'm finished with Yaffenhash and Belfry, then you can help get him acquainted with your old line of work.

(05-24-2018, 01:48 AM)Arcanuse Wrote: »
SpoilerShow

Oh, hum. I see. Well, as me and her are on (rather bitter) speaking terms, I'll happily pass the message on, with context. I can't say I fully recall what those acronyms are referring to... but I suppose she'd probably know, herself. Thanks in advance.

(05-24-2018, 01:48 AM)Arcanuse Wrote: »As for Yaffenhash, I'm inclined to agree.
Although they feel like their still missing something, I feel that should resolve itself with a bit of life experience outside the nickel.

Yes, that seems about right.

Postmortem (so to speak, as I don't want to make you sit through another interview): Yaffenhash seems very comfortable about this whole thing. She was built reasonable, and seems to have hardened up on sudden revelations after the discovery that her people were the 'antagonists', so to speak. By showing the nickel writer and its viewfinder, and being open for quite long enough, I got through to her. I made the decision that somewhere in Voʒarus Space would be fairly suitable for her-- it's familiar enough to me that I know a humble city on the bright side of a rotationally-locked planet that would suit her and her personality well.

My suspicion is that she will have the most drive to find Belfry and Dime spread throughout the universe-- and will be the least tied down. It was a pleasure to talk to her, though I can't help but wonder if she truly understood the way in which she had been taken from the nickel-- wholesale, separated, copied and not cut. But I suppose we'll see, in time.

(05-24-2018, 12:21 AM)deadharold Wrote: »Send Belfry to the state-of-the-art space station Mime Crypt Omicron, where she can integrate as a crew member.
(05-24-2018, 03:53 AM)☆ C.H.W.O.K.A ☆ Wrote: »again, i insist we send belfry on some sort of charity work where they can throw themselves utterly into helping others. a helper with doctors without borders in space or something

It seems this will be our last instance of combinatory inputs, friends. You have been of great assistance all this time, and now I think it's time to finish debriefing my most troubling ghost.

I sit beside the input aggregator rested on the table and explain where Belfry will be going. "It's a small station in Common Space," I say. "Many amenities. It acts half as a rest stop for weary travelers, as well as a hospital for millions of miles of space around it, and I think you would do well starting in that hospital. You're quite the helper of people, and this is a selfless way to begin."

"Why are you doing this?" she asks. Her hand trembles. The melanocarpet is fighting her, though I can feel her fury trying to break through. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Fists trembling. Scales exploding. Eyes filled. Form changing every few moments. "It doesn't have to be where you stay, obviously. It's just the starting platform for what I think is going to be a wonderful journey through the universe."

I offer an appendage forth for the last time, beginning to stand. It's from here that I will lead her to the teleporter to head off-- in whatever condition she's in, I think she will find some sanity in a place which is not so surreal as this room. It's from here th

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Notes from an AuthorShow
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#63
RE: Ghostwriter
Hello?
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#64
RE: Ghostwriter
what's updog
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#65
RE: Ghostwriter
I don't know what's up!

I'm trying to get out of here. I'm still dreaming, I think, but everything here feels real. Hiding in a closet for a second. Stole this flashy thing and this maniac said it had people in it.

Please help me.
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#66
RE: Ghostwriter
Well, don't drop it. That would probably be bad.
Noot noot doot doot.


[Image: etSKUQC.png]
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#67
RE: Ghostwriter
jokes on you I'm even crazier. You're fictional, so is he, only humans are real
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#68
RE: Ghostwriter
I don't even know what a human is. Is everyone here fucking crazy?! I'm real! Every single part of me is real! I want this nightmare to end!

I'm not going to drop you. This thing's the only solid thing I've got. God, I feel like I'm a hologram, I just... need... to get out of here. I should have taken the machine he was using, I wasn't thinking, I couldn't think...
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#69
RE: Ghostwriter
Real doesn't matter dummy
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#70
RE: Ghostwriter
Huh. Can't say that was an expected outcome.
Guessing you're Belfry, right?
Look, I'll be blunt with you.
It's not a dream, it's real.
What your feeling right now should pass with time, but it's going to be rough.
Right now you need to grab onto whatever you can remember, and hold on tight. Pull it in.
You're in a kind of transitional state right now, and with the process derailed we're going to have to try and finish it ourselves.
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.
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#71
RE: Ghostwriter
Lemme give you an idea of help cause it'll make things crazier

Dime and Yaffelpufr are somewhere else in the building
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#72
RE: Ghostwriter
I'm just in love with how everyone magically knows my name now.

You sound just like the maniac, whoever-- uh. I/O, apparently? Listen to me, I'm not fucking stupid, I've had dreams like this before. I've even gotten this far like this but I guess it's never been this weird. I don't want to even confront the alternative that's trying to be forced on me, I don't want to even think about it. I just want to go home.

The only kind of transitioning I'm planning on doing is getting the hell out of this building, with or without your help. I think there's a stairwell close enough unless that's not a stairwell because-- dream logic.

Okay, okay-- okay. Dime and Yaff are here. Tell me where. I'm not leaving this closet until I get good info.
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#73
RE: Ghostwriter
Dimes in his quarters with a nickel
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#74
RE: Ghostwriter
Sigh. Not going to make this easy, are you?
Look, Dime and Yaffenhash already agreed and were supposed to be heading off right about now.
Luckily for you, you conked out the one person available who could run the teleporters.
So, unless you managed to learn how to work the things over the past minute, you're tough outta luck.
But hey, maybe if you hit the machine enough times it'll get you where you need to go.

Seriously though, you know all we do as to where Dime and Yaffenhash are.
Finding out the building layout wasn't exactly important.
Quiet. Good for an unusual opinion. Doesn't talk much.
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#75
RE: Ghostwriter
I'm back.

Hey, with company!

I'm not... really a fan of this at all, Belfry.

They were in rooms across from mine, like you said-- Dime in his quarters with a nickel. Civvie's out cold and I think we have a second to think. God, but the air's just... like water, it's filled to the brim. I hate this.

I'm going to be honest, the teleporters are the obvious way out of here, and we should take those.

...The fact that they're here and awake, too, is making this fucking weird as hell. I still think it's a dream. I don't care how hard I'm making it for you.

I think I could figure these things out and get us teleported... I even liked the idea of what Civvie was saying. The job sounded good.

We are not following whatever plans that lunatic came up with. I don't know what this is, if it's some kind of reptilian mind-beam or whatever, but I want to wake up and get back to our goddamn mission.

Uh... Belfry?

We finished our mission. We got to the moon, we fought, we saved tripodals, we... finished out. Basically.


Yeah, I-I... C-Civvie showed me... th-the viewfinder, on the n-nickel.

It's still in that room if you want me to show you. Seems like you two were living in the past when he got you out.

Think I'm gonna just stay here until he wakes up...

Okay. Both of you are crazy. You want to stay, I'll let you. I'm getting the hell out.

If that's really what you want...

Good luck, I suppose? Don't die?


Don't patronize me. I'm awake, and you two are off the fucking deep end.

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Stairwell.

There's windows. There's some kind of bubble keeping out... space, I think. And a huge platform on the bottom, like an ocean of foundries and workshops and poured metal and burning sparks, and... a billion little figures moving across it, darting across.

Ships. Looks like there's ships at the edge, some kind of bay. Or I could hope there's something closer-- the roof, maybe? I don't hear anyone nearby but this is working on dreamscape logic, nobody's real, nothing's real. I need help.

Please. I'm begging one part of this fucking place to be sane.
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