The Doc's Bio Lab for Scav Experiments - & other oddities.

[Goth Zagog-Thou]

Love what you're doing with this project, Rman.

Always looking forward to see what you come up with next!

[Rman Virgil]

Love what you're doing with this project, Rman.

Always looking forward to see what you come up with next!

Thanks Goth.

It's part of the fun for me too. Not knowing. My approuch is a lot of improv. Like jammin.

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[Rman Virgil]

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A scene from the story "Triumph in the Balance". It depicts the first meeting, on neutral ground in old Belize, between Project Commander Boudica and Chandar, Watcher of The Scav Seven Nations and son of Akbar, chief of chiefs. It's an overture to a trade negotiation. The scavs need resources to deal with "The Culling" (directed in secret by the Doc) and what they have to trade is the location of an intact Pre-Collapse, underground, orbital launch facility some kilometers from Valladolid in the Yucatan penninsula and near the Cenote Zaci fresh water sinkhole and cave network.

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[Originway]

why isn't this thread in the same section as viewtopic.php?f=5&t=2996?

[Rman Virgil]

why isn't this thread in the same section as viewtopic.php?f=5&t=2996?

That was a complex map-mod with fan-fiction. Thread was locked years ago. A lot of it has been obsolesced by subsequent changes to the base game and mods of the last year. What hasn't been obsolesced will have to wait till a new UI widget scheme is implemented as well new camera controls.

This right here is "just" illustrated fan fiction. I only make use of the WZ mod work of others and do a wee bit of mapping, mainly tweaks of my maps for visual "staging" purposes when I composite diety PoV with 1st person PoV.
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[Rman Virgil]

...

Here's the opening sequence in it's entirety of the "Crude in Sur Amerika" yarn.

It illustrates the alternating PoV technique I tend to employ in contrasting the Project world view with the Scav Seven Nations world view (in tandem with nuanced changes in language style). A technique I learned, like everyone else, from the early 20th century Japanese master of the short story, Akutagawa, and specifically his masterpiece, "Rashomon".

They launched at dawn from the Cape Keys, like a flock migrating south to warmer climes and abundant forage. It turned into a rougher ride than Project Mission Control could've foreseen.

Hugging the serpentine coastline, as sailing vessels did in flat earth times, it was Project HQ's directive they avoid the shortest route as the crow flies and not venture over open sea so as to skirt the island chains scattered throughout the eastern gulf, all occupied by forces hostile to the Project. Good thing too.

Not two hours airborne, thunderheads swiftly glided in behind the convoy out of the north, bullying them off course and inland, pulseing with the muffled crackle of lightening in their darker bellys. The gale winds shivered the Super Transports down to their rivets, causing engines to moan and fuselages to creak under stresses they could just handle without bursting at the seams. With the careening every which way of the compass for kilometers on end, some greenies up-chucked their morning chow in the main passenger compartments.

It went against the grain right down to greenhorn recruits, to leave the Transports behind, unescorted, at high risk. It even struck the five pilots involved as pure abandonment, but the Commander was clear and sound in his judgement. Unlike the Super Transports, the hyper scout and interceptors were vastly more vulnerable to the extreme weather but could handily outrun the storm, so why put the entire convoy, and mission, in jeopardy at the very outset.

Commander Malory stood braced between the pilot and copilot, studying the monitors and intrument readings.

"Could be through the worst of the beast..."

"Affirmative, sir. We'll be back on course in short order."

Both pilots crinkled their brows. Malory couldn't see their eyes but could well imagine each had a quizzical look and why.

"Outstanding. Keep the transports strung out for now. No formation. Make sure when we regroup with the iterceptors that they come up the rear and the hyper scout take the vanguard."

When he said "beast" he was thinking Kraken. Looking at the storm raging waters, it was Kraken he imagined they harbored. Those legendary beasts of many tentacles and epic proportions, lurking below towering swells awaiting to grapple unsuspecting vessels and devour their crews. He had a fondness for the old lore, unknown to most. The Pre-Collapse lore itself not a common interest with the Project populace at large and his fondness for it, unknown even among his closest circle. That secret passion was how he survived as a youngster new to the world of Borgs and the Project. The tales were what his mentor used to engage his interest in learning to read. From those long bygone days to this moment was a journey none of his kind before him had ever made.

Many were the secrets he guarded. The greatest being he wasn't supposed to remain so vividly attatched to life before his synaptic link implant. But he was. Where it to be known, who could say for sure what corrective treatments he would be encouraged to undergo. Strongly encouraged, no doubt. Not a chance he was willing to take.

With the worst of the gale assuredly behind them, the interceptors and hyper scout re-joined the Super Transports, the whole convoy back on course.

"Commander, we're in visual of the LZ. Time for everyone to strap-in."

They landed on a sandy penninsula and deployed amid lingering wisps of mid-morning fog. It was ebb tide and the stench of rotting seaweed made for a bustling LZ as none wanted to linger catching their breath for long. Then there was the pod of beached dolphins, not far up wind, carcasses deep in rot. Malory ordered a couple flammers to incinerate them to ash and crumbling bone shards.

By mid afternoon the fog had burned away, the off-loading completed and the Super Transports headed back North accompanied by two of the four interceptors, to the Project's eastern mainland HQ in the Cape Keys.

Even with stiff sea breezes, the sun's scorching face was unrelenting. Any shady spot was like an oasis.

Commander Malory was inspecting the topo map, indicating his teams destination and mission, from beneath a jury-rigged desert camo canopy on the beach, above the high tide mark.

"Commander... ?"

"Sarge. At ease. What's goin' on ?"

"Sir, scouts have found a clearing 'bout three clicks N.W. beyond the tree line and have secured the perimeter. All is ready to move in and set-up night camp. Also, the air survey team is awaiting orders, sir."

Malory shuffled through the topos till he found the sub-section with the grid overlay.

"Give this to the flight team. Have the interceptors escort the hyper scout for the first 25 kilometers then return. The hyper scout should then proceed to the marked grid and recon. This topo indicates what seems to be the best location to land and plant the sensor array securely. Let the pilot use his best judgement but I want no more than two landings. Every touchdown is a risk and we can't afford to lose the scout. Have the rest of the men move supplies to the inland clearing."

"Commander, should I have a small detail await the return of the interceptors ?"

"Yeah. Have them land by the tree line, then camo them. When they're done this beach should not look like an LZ. I want the hyper scout to return directly to the night camp, well before sunset. See to it."

Sargent Emil went about his orders and Malory stepped from under the canopy, keeping the sun to his back.

He walked, preoccupied, down the beach towards a jagged precipice that cut the tree line in half. He'd surely have to attend the joints of his entire exo before calling it a day. This wind-tossed sand was creeping insidious.

"Oil... everything has come back to it... till now", he thought, unable to shake the sense that he would face his greatest test on this mission. The hydrogen powered chassis, if they found it, would be a radical game changer in future conflicts.

By this point in his military career he'd been on many missions, knowing the fear mingled excitement common to a warriors life. Deprivations and near defeat he'd known but was stranger to this sense of loss by continuing to expose layers of a life long past reclaiming. It made for an imbalance in his ki that troubled by drawing him inward, and uncontrollably, to pre-implant memories.

The crashing surf filled the air with a salt spume he tasted breathing through his mouth. Better that than rank decay.

He sat on a piece of driftwood, just beneath the jutting escarpment, reviewing what lay ahead.

Every incursion into the unknown south west had to be considered an encrouchment into hostile territory. Even though the foray team preceeding his had spent a week scouting this stretch of coast and encountered no hostiles, little could be taken for granted and that would hold even after reaching their objective, estimated at some 250 kilometers inland.

Stareing off beyond the roiling white caps, the horizon's vanishing point, he tended an impaired ki, not taking much heed of a few fist-size stones that fell from the rock ledge atop the precipiece to land but five meters away, to his left.

"This is a wind blasted coast", flitted through his mind, "what could be more common than erosion."

========>

.… Silvana of the far eye scrabbled on her belly like a land crab, elbows for pincers, to the edge of the bluff over hanging a tongue of beach now occupied by an invading Mekka force. Her slight weight on the lip of the escarpment caused a few small rocks to drop. She couldn't hear their tumbling descent over the roar of surf but did catch them plunk into the sand not far from where a Mekka sat hunched over, metal sheathed hands gripping metal shod knees. He struck her as the leader being apart from the rest that were engaged in various tasks. He appeared not to take heed of the fallen stones. She let a sigh of relief escape her parched lips and noted the salt tang in the air, usually refreshing, was over layed with a stench coming from the Mekka.

Then three Mekka birds lifted off the sand below, stirring up swirling plumes of sand. When reaching an elevation of 50 meters they screeched inland like hungry birds of prey, their billowy tails dissipating quickly in the coastal wind shears.

"Mekka, this far south...", she whispered to herself, half in awe, half in dread. "And for a second time in less than a moon."

Even though it would befall the Seer the task of breaking this news at the council fires of the Snake Clan's camp hours before Silvana's return, she would etch the Mekka, their numbers & kind, in her mind's eye. Akbar of the scar, her chief, would yet question her sharply and Akbar's manner was rarely less than fierce, any hesitation would lower Silvana's standing as lead scout. A woman scout was rare, a leader, unheard of and Silvana's pride, while never boastful, was as staunch as any battled hardened warrior.

She hand signaled her brethren, Nezacle & Balaros, to hold their position under cover of a scraggly copse, well back of the cliff edge. Balaros signaled in turn. Could he make his way to the boulder between them and a bit to the east ? This, Nezacle would never do. Different they were, as owl and hawk, but their stregnths blended. They were a good team. She gave Balaros the go ahead gesture.

Sea winds pounded the bare bluff, mingling sand with sun, they branded forearm flesh over the hours of her vigil, but Silvana held steadfast. She carefully broke position twice. Once to relieve a cramp, the other to quench her thirst with a few drops. It would not do for the Mekka to be alerted, or worse, the scouts captured or cut down before word could be got back to the tribe and thus confirm the Seer's long vision with precious details.

Two Mekka birds returned shortly after departing and were carefully concealed by the tree line, sufficiently above the high-tide boundry that could yet be made out as wet sand.

Silvana marked their position against the base of the cliff.

When the Sun began westering Silvana heard the third Mekka bird return, though this one settled inland of the tree-line. Surely the Mekka's night camp its destination. She marked that position as well for they would have to skirt it on their return.

The scouts held position till after sunset. It was a starry night with a sliver of moon when Silvana, Nezacle & Balaros finally retreated from the cliff face, staying well clear of the Mekka night camp, to wend thier way through the steaming jungle, by boar trail, back to the Snake Clan village.

If they loped all night without resting they would reach the vision camp before sunrise.

========>

And now I will take a spell away from these efforts to attend some non-WZ projects I've somewhat neglected the last couple weeks. Almost everything comes at a trade-off price when spare time is limited. Thus, one must be ever mindful of maintaining a wholesome balance between all the diverse parts of RL.
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[Goth Zagog-Thou]

Love it. Love love love.

Great stuff, Rman! Seemed like I was actually there.

You're gonna make ME start writing, hehe!

[aubergine]

More! More!

Comments:

This sentence seemed incomplete? " The Pre-Collapse lore itself as much his fondness for it. "

"By this point in his military career he'd been on many missions, knowing that fear mingled excitement that was common to a warriors life." -- a "that" too many?

[Rman Virgil]

Love it. Love love love.

Great stuff, Rman! Seemed like I was actually there.

You're gonna make ME start writing, hehe!

...

Appreciate it, Goth.

And so glad that is what you experienced - being there.

Which is what I experience with your story work.

For, IMO, your Cam 4 is on the cutting edge of storytelling art - Interactive Fiction.

Your Mission Briefs are story dialog, your mission constructs and the specific game world immersion you've created - the rest of the story components. Plus, you've upped the ante of interaction-alternate outcomes by divergent / branching missions. Storytelling of the 21st century... and that is not hyperbole. New territory in the universe of storytelling being charted there and that's a fact. I find it very exciting, very compelling, and look forward to checking out your next installment.

More! More!

Comments:

This sentence seemed incomplete? " The Pre-Collapse lore itself as much his fondness for it. "

"By this point in his military career he'd been on many missions, knowing that fear mingled excitement that was common to a warriors life." -- a "that" too many?

It's fun going back to rework older material and I owe you a debt for inspiring me to act. And I will see it through.

Good suggestions too. Have revised. Even clarfied an ajoining sentence / sentiment.
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[Merowingg]

Redy to serve

Did you notice hot girl in the very first screen in this thread? Now all are pressing "1" above heheheh

Rman my friend, shirt? a woman in shirt? (and supposingly shirt only) Knowing Rman

Damn I love to tease

She seemed to wear sunglasses, apparently I was very wrong

[Rman Virgil]

Redy to serve

Did you notice hot girl in the very first screen in this thread? Now all are pressing "1" above heheheh

Rman my friend, shirt? a woman in shirt? (and supposingly shirt only) Knowing Rman

Damn I love to tease

She seemed to wear sunglasses, apparently I was very wrong

Bud, you know this is a family friendly site. I could have put her in a hospital smock but then I thought you' be checking in and what could be more fetching, and still be family friendly, than a gal wearing a man's shirt, like in those glossy mags with the center fold. And just for the record, she is most properly attired under that shirt as befits the lady she is when she's not kicking butt and taking no prisoners... I'll have you know.

Sunglasses ! My brother, that is in fact the ferocious raccoon war paint of a genuine scav fightin' female warrior - don't ya know.
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[Merowingg]

I see no friendly thing here, even the title of the game says War Zone, which scares me and my granny already from the very beginning

Couldn't it be called Givin Roses or simething? But certainly not War of the roses!

I could have put her in a hospital smock but then I thought you' be checking in and what could be more fetching, and still be family friendly, than a gal wearing a man's shirt, like in those glossy mags with the center fold.

I am not sure if you are talking for example about Gardeners Weekly for example but what I know is that not accidentally she is wearing a shirt, and as you have admitted shirt only.

Accidentally we have revealled why The Scavengers fight like morons shooting at tanks with catapults or riding fiercely on bikes on heavly armoured tanks. They got blind from the san, as a result of not wearing sunglasses

Why one hottie cannot be fierce and wear sunglasses lost for example by NEXUS? For the record, as you have proved she is hottie fom about twenty mettres

And have you heard about this spreading plague of Scavengers drinking high percentage oil? The reports say some of them turned into flamers when they spoke near object transmitting big temperature. Maybe they develop new kind of weapon?

To sum up. Now and only at the very end of the information disorder ment to mislead potential spies.

Very nice work you have here Rman

[Rman Virgil]

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Yeah. "Gardners Weekly". How ever did you guess ? Thought I pulled the wool over your eyes. I'm impressed.

Scavs are tricksters. Don't be taken in by appearances, my friend.

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[Merowingg]

How does it happen Rman that we almost always talk about females beuty at the pages of your threads eh?

So to continue the let me call ritual or tradition already I would like to tell you that in case of judging by appearances, I would like in case like that, judge by appearance Of course I am kidding, if a female somewhe here is preparing her best dagger already.

And I think someone pulled wool over her eyes certainly, and she had those wide open when it happened

Also experiments on women? Experiments on women? What a sick doctor is that

I love the screen with the newspaper in the haracterisitic style

[Goth Zagog-Thou]

Love it. Love love love.

Great stuff, Rman! Seemed like I was actually there.

You're gonna make ME start writing, hehe!

...

Appreciate it, Goth.

And so glad that is what you experienced - being there.

Which is what I experience with your story work.

For, IMO, your Cam 4 is on the cutting edge of storytelling art - Interactive Fiction.

Your Mission Briefs are story dialog, your mission constructs and the specific game world immersion you've created - the rest of the story components. Plus, you've upped the ante of interaction-alternate outcomes by divergent / branching missions. Storytelling of the 21st century... and that is not hyperbole. New territory in the universe of storytelling being charted there and that's a fact. I find it very exciting, very compelling, and look forward to checking out your next installment.

That means a lot to me, Rman. Thanks so much for the kind words! I'll strive to make it the best it possibly can be.

Anyway, looking forward to the next installment.