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wendal
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Aliens. Solo campaign play, Ongoing.

Sat 16 Nov 2019, 02:06

So the amazing team behind this book provided me with a copy of the pdf to sink my second jaw into and I have done happily, dragging it back to the hive. Thank you again. It shames me to say it but somehow I missed anything to do with this book, lost in cryo perhaps, otherwise I would have been first in line, motion tracker, Pulserifle/Flamethrower combo at the ready. 

So until I finally get my hands around an actual hardcover and all the additions that come with it when it releases, preorders the 3rd of dec. ‘Oh yeah!’. I am pouring through this book and have fallen in love. It’s amazing, everything about it is just so.... Alien! It captures that exact feel, solid writing and the material is treated with respect. Then there is the art work. “Oh my!” “EPIC!”

The aliens are left vague, enough so that you can put your own spin on them without it constantly gnawing at you that it’s wrong and… “David… Made them... Ergh.” Someone shoot him before he does more damage to the franchise, everything else has been nice little additions but his meddling has got to stop, another neutrino burst might do it. Sorry had a hard time with him and his ways.

Any way before getting the pdf I had a few ideas, a few posts on forums etc, nothing solid without the material I was drooling over, until now. Since tearing through this glorious book and going through it again and again and again, as you do, I started to have a little campaign brainstorm, as you do. Now I’d like to share that with any of you guys on here, maybe you could add some plot hooks, characters or ideas you have of your own, either way I’m deep into my little world building at the moment with an ALIENS! RPG! I can’t believe it. So good!. 

With a special thanks to everyone who made this book possible and a shout out to all involved.  

Here's my little idea, mini draft. Campaign setting I’m working on.

Fiori. 16 System. 
Fiorina. 161 “Fury.” 

Seegson executives have now, after a long drawn out process with Weyland-Yutani finally acquired the rights to the tonnes of scrap and remaining drums of quinitricetyline on Fiorina 161. This includes what remains of the Class C correctional units, the compound and lead works for radioactive, toxic waste disposal etc. 

Casual business as ever, which should have been a simple affair between one Corp and another but as any interaction with WY and Seegson goes, the deal from the very beginning was met with the typical delays, as company agents slowed the process to an unnecessary crawl before finally settling on terms. 

The operation has been signed off by the board of directors, the initial phase will begin with several dozen crews of working joe synthetics sent down to the surface, they will shift and sort through the already prepared heaps of raw junk, readying it all to be transported off world. 

A smaller team of synths will be led by a specially selected group of former inmates, once imprisoned on “Fury.” Each of them of the YY chromosome variety. Paid well for their knowledge of the labyrinth of tunnels and layouts running throughout the facility. Each of them specialising in their own correctional unit or hub area, remapping the facility will allow the synths to further disembowel the the complex for spare parts and anything else of value before company assets are assigned and distributed elsewhere. 

Caught in the mix as always is the CMC. A small squad of Colonial marines will accompany the teams on site, orders passed down from brass, some sort of fine print, contract clause bullshit from back in the day, one any of the Corps will pull if given the chance. The Former WY contract reinstating there use, now with Seegson giving the orders instead easy as that. 

The squad involved as always have been kept in the dark, other than being forced to shave their hair way shorter than regulation, balls and crack included, everything. “The Lice.” Being a constant problem on “Fury.” The squad simply believing they are there as added insurance in regards to the YY’s the company has employed,  some of their files being rather nasty, the so called space beast has come up and been joked about among them. “But that's just fairy tale bullshit right…” 

There is also a basic Bishop series android that came attached with the facility since WY departure, with a simple engineer skill set, he is work capable and on standby.  
That's all the “Official Statement.” Anyway, the stuff on the surface. 

“Rumour Control.” Seegson is sparing no expense to make sure the above is all anyone knows, due to the workforce being comprised of synths, no work was advertised anywhere. The YY Inmates having been approached directly by company agents outside any regular recruitment services, rumours abound, separate correctional facilities, paid releases from along the outer veil. ‘Bribes.’ 

Company agents are on site with direct orders from James Evans-Russell himself, maybe someone high up the chain, maybe Director himself? Assigned a small team of scientists and technicians they have been given very specific orders. ‘Recover a xenomorph specimen of any kind.’

Seegson R and D under several front companies and organisations have slowly been gathering and collating intel on the xenomorph, with the intention of using this information to finally get one over on Weyland-Yutani. Costing fortunes, many favours and a slew of corporate espionage until they finally had what they were after. The aliens life cycle, ovomorphing included. Company agents took the hunt for the creature to the stars, updated as and when anything else useful would come up as all of the data is processed by a system based on a more advanced A.P.O.L.L.O AI, still nothing compared to WY systems, the basic algorithm pinged during a standard sift through intel designated ‘F-1’ ‘High. Probability! 

In short I’m using the information so amazingly placed in the book. ‘Deep in the bowels of the long abandoned sections of the facility lie the beginnings of a secreted resin hive. The Runner had been creating a nest and had already begun the process of transforming Superintendent Andrews and inmates Boggs and Rains into contingency ovomorphs.’  

The Apollo AI assisting the R and D department has calculated based on simple arrhythmic that three ovomorphs are located somewhere within the facility located on “Fury.” 161. Just like that. The lack of three deceased and there biological remains from the site as per the report, combined with the current intel on the xenomorphs and certain aspects from fresher sources there is a high probability that the singular alien allegedly on site turned them into eggs, high enough that Seegson, James Evans-Russell has sent a team in, desperate to get his hands on the next WY brand killer.  

So we have “Fury.” 161. The place already speaks for itself, I don't care what anyone says, I love alien 3, it grew on me over the years, Ripley. This is her grave, or crematorium either way she was here. 

Character pool to work with so far.

Crews of synthetic working joes, dozens and dozens more. 

A squad of CMC marines, reluctantly drafted for this one due to contract clause. 

A group of YY Chromosome former inmates of “Fury” 161. Scouts for remapping tunnels.

A Bishop series android, basic engineer class. Was thinking that maybe WY would have been suspicious of Seegson’s sudden interest in their waste, especially since they know what really happened there. Maybe Michael Bishop himself is on site trading places with the android, the Bishop droids agendas will obviously be toward WY as a whole. 

Seegson corporate black bag science team. 
Company agents, someone high up.
Scientists and technicians. 
They have a private lab, airtight, shuttle craft sealed off from the outside… From the lice. 

Finally three alien eggs, in a small nest waiting somewhere within the bowels of the complex.
Last edited by wendal on Mon 02 Mar 2020, 01:08, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sat 16 Nov 2019, 11:54

That sounds awesome. My one comment would be to avoid the “Android with a secret agenda” route and actually make the Bishop model more of a hero of this adventure, going above and beyond to save human life but knowing it is distrusted anyway, especially if the characters know it it a WY model.
 
wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sat 16 Nov 2019, 17:58

Liking that with the Bishop android, the cliche would be to have him as a protagonist, just couldn’t help myself, someone at WY would have to know something was up. Your standard helpful Bishop series synth he is. “Artificial person.” Although all the suspicion will be on him for obvious reasons.

The Seegson Corps black bag science team have a live and healthy Ox and a pedigree rottweiler with them on site, caged of course. Intel stating that the former xenomorph gestated in either one of these two creatures, the facts surrounding the case are more than a little hazy, even the book ‘Space Beast.’ Comes in two editions, either one states born by Dog, the other by Cow. Regardless, it definitely wasn’t a typical birthing, ie from a human being, that much they did know. 

So with that they have a theory among the many they have circulating amongst their small group, that either the canines superior olfactory senses would lead it to the eggs, the ovomorphs pheromones the key. ‘Calls to them like a bitch on heat.’ Or the presence of the Female Ox and her prime state, a superior candidate for gestation, helpless, the beast reacting with the eggs somehow as to elicit a response from the facehuggers within, calling them to it like it had done allegedly before, this one being the more stretched out ideas of the two, but it’s still viable. Either way these two theories could lead to something or nothing, no stone will be left unturned or nobody is getting paid and most of them will lose their jobs.  

The eggs will be as follows, one Queen, drone and a scout respectively. 

The facility on “Fury.” 161 The foundry is partly underground, systems have been kept active and in operational by the on site Bishop series android up until now. 
The large correctional Units and Hubs themselves. Two separate rooms on location, one for the superintendents PA and the largest room was reserved for superintendent Andrews himself, basic living quarters.
 
A mess, an infirmary with living quarters for the chief medical officer, a morgue and the superintendent's office with a desk for his PA, Bishop having claimed the office for his own. Then there is what’s left of the skeletal remains of the lead works next to all of it. The compound itself is almost ten square miles in diameter, with a total of approximately six hundred active and inactive ventilation ducts. A labyrinth of an ancient system, a network of tunnels stitched throughout the entire facility, pretty much all of it unmapped. 
Last edited by wendal on Sun 08 Dec 2019, 00:05, edited 1 time in total.
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wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sat 16 Nov 2019, 22:39

The squad of CMC marines under Seegson’s indirect employ. A rifle squad, usually four marines. A Corporal, a lance Corporal, and two privates. Although this squad has four privates, it's all in the fine print. Two rifle teams armed with pulse rifles, one gun team, armed with a smartgun and a rifleman with Motion tracker. They will be milling about in the mess hall, all but refusing to go outside unless absolutely necessary. The brutal weather conditions aside, the fog of lice that covers everything and anything with hair. This being the only space inside that Corporate would allocate them, so they have made it as comfortable as possible. Converted into living space when it’s time to bunk down, none of them are happy with the state of affairs, post or hair.  

A pair of company agents the standard type, although 'Bald' now operate out of the former superintendents office, having kicked the Bishop series android out and down into maintenance with a crew of average joes watching his every move. Every now and then one of them will address the marines as to their progress.“Three hundred and ten days to be exact.” And what they should be doing, this usually involves unloading supply shipments, outside, but these are ones the marines themselves also need to survive in this hellish place so they get it done as quickly as possible and lastly light security detail from one location to another inside the compound.

The ‘Bald.’ YY’s under Seegson’s direct employ will sleep along their way throughout the facility, packs sufficiently stocked for the trip, food, water, light source and a nice fresh out of the plastic corp brand mattress, all neatly rolled up. Some of them have been granted certain amenities for certain addictions to help them cope whilst working for Seegson, you know in good faith. Drugs, alcohol, cigarettes and candy... Chocolate. All deducted from their final pay of course. They will be accompanied by crews of working joe synthetics as they remap the compound, they will break off at designated areas marked for work, until only a few remain with the ex inmate for safety… Or security.

Part of the contract got them all a free crash course in the technology that will be required to complete their job, as long as they could grasp the basics of the tech they passed. A Parameter uplink spectro-graph mapping device, nothing as advanced as WY’s PUP’s but the tech will get the job done all the same, the YY’s act as the hounds to their PUP’s. The device consisting of a headset camera and throat comm, the mount an appropriate collar with wrist attachment, it is also constantly feeding data back to the Science teams Apollo AI and it’s own cartographer programs.
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sun 17 Nov 2019, 00:28

If you haven't seen this thread already, you might want to consider looking through (and adding) to the following:
Share your on-theme campaign ideas

I apologize if I missed this in your write-ups, but I'm not sure I understand why W-Y would sell Fury 161 to Seegson without having gutted the place themselves for any possible Xenomorph leftovers themselves. Is the idea that they, in fact, did, and simply missed stuff? Or that they didn't, but want Seegson to do the dirty work for them? Regardless, sounds like a fun idea!
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wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sun 17 Nov 2019, 01:13

Sorry if i put it in the wrong place, just wanted to share my current workings with the amazing material. 

In the Aliens Rpg book, it states that WY packed up and left completely, they searched the tunnels of the compound but without the company telling the search teams what exactly they were looking for, the eggs were missed, overlooked or what have you, at which point WY put it on the market for scrap. 

I have then chosen to go with this as my stage for the start of my own little alien universe, beginning with the sale of Fiorina 161 to Seegson.
Last edited by wendal on Sun 17 Nov 2019, 01:22, edited 2 times in total.
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wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sun 17 Nov 2019, 01:16

William Allen.

Career. (Roughneck.)
Former ‘Fury’ 161 inmate. 

Agenda. 
To cash in on Seegson’s big fat check no matter what.
 
Attributes.
Strength 4
Wits 3
Agility 3
Empathy 2 

Skills.
Close Combat 3 
Mobility 2 
Ranged Combat 1 
Observation 2 
Stamina 2

Health 4

Talents. 
The long haul. 

Signature item.
A Shiv rediscovered along his way through the compound, stashed from his previous stay, still bloodstained from it’s last use. 

Gear.
Cutting torch
Maintenance Jack.
Seegson survival pack.
The Hound tech needed to map the facility.
D6 doses anti psychotics
 
YY Chromosome male. Strikingly pale, as pale as any of the working joe synths assigned to him, easily blending in with the crowd in low light, tall and eerily thin. Red eyes and bald, the bar code on the back of his head branded during his incarceration has been cauterised off, the old metal spoon and flame until it’s red hot trick, left a nasty lump of scar tissue where the tattoo once was. 

Wearing dark overalls, thick recycled materials. The Hound tech devices worn along with the standard Seegson survival pack, all graciously provided by the company to all of the YY’s, William was forced to use the extra straps that came with it, as the tightest they would go was not enough to secure the pack to his skeletal athletic frame.  

Finding a stashed shiv shortly after entering one of the Correctional units assigned to him, taking the memento from times past, still bloodstained from last use the makeshift weapon, previously a metal tray, now a twisted shard of alloy, the tip razor, sharpened on stone.

Several alleged cases of manslaughter saw him spend a stint of twelve years on ‘Fury’ 161 that is before the case was eventually thrown out, outside parties with common interests and the few witnesses they had disappearing saw to that. William is a hardened criminal and this is probably the first job in his entire miserable life that has been totally legit, and it found him, he plans not to let this opportunity go to waste. Some corp wants to pay him a handsome sum to map out an old facility, who is he to say no, he has agreed to worse for even less. 

Hired by Seegson company agents for his extensive knowledge of the networks belonging to correctional units four and six their entire cell hubs included. Having been transferred between them after a vicious stabbing that no one could pin on anyone. ‘William.’

Most of the YY’s only specialising in one area, William knew about two, including their ventilation ducts, both ones that are still active and those that are not, something the company seemed rather insistent about mapping. 'Copper lined cabling.' If he remembers correctly. 
Last edited by wendal on Fri 22 Nov 2019, 11:42, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Sun 17 Nov 2019, 01:19

Sorry if i put it in the wrong place, just wanted to share my current workings with the amazing material. 

In the Aliens Rpg book, it states that WY packed up and left completely, they searched the tunnels of the compound but without the company telling the search teams what exactly they were looking for, the eggs were missed, overlooked or what have you, at which point WY put it on the market for scrap. 

I have then chosen to go with this as my stage for the start of my own little alien universe.
I dont think you posted in a wrong place, just wanted to bring the thread up since it fell by the wayside. And gotcha on the clarification, thanks!
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wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Mon 18 Nov 2019, 14:55

Using the character above.

Episode 1 ‘A Fiorious Return’’

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 03.

William Allen has returned to this wretched planet, something he never thought he would ever actually do in his lifetime, especially on his own terms. The YY chromosome work correctional facility awaits down on the surface, a place where he once found himself a prisoner among thousands.Turned Corp indentured labourers, in the brutal conditions of an active industrial lead works, used for WY’s toxic and radioactive waste disposal, leased to the free world empire prior to its closure. Incarcerated for twelve ‘Long.’ Years. A distant memory now considering his release from “Fury” 161 was almost seven years ago, no time has been enough to wipe the stain of the place from his mind however. 

The ex con has spent the time since doing the only thing he knew how, the only things of which he has ever been any good at. Drug and alcohol fueled hazes, bouncing from one dirty job to the next, one colony to another, all along the outside of the outer veil. Never settling in one place for any extended amount of time worth measuring. Somehow, staying one step ahead of colonial marshals and two steps ahead of any rivals, a couple thick roots of which stem from the very place he is being shuttled towards. 

Scratching the blotch of scar tissue at the back of his head, the lumpy patch a sudden itch, thoughts having wandered back to his days as a convict. Not a single memory that surfaces is a fond one, none of them will be. A flash of the barcode once branded into the back of his head upon arrival, almost two decades ago... The scar itches a little more. Arriving on the quarterly cargo shuttle, instead of a prison transport, its engines roaring. A chunky ship with the Seegson logo proudly printed on it’s outside, the soft yellow well worn, entire sections showing the cold grey of the alloy beneath. 

Inside the ship, the air is stale, he glances at the scrubbers without turning his head, noticing only one of them is operational, lit green the other red, hence the crappy recycled atmospherics since departing the  ship in orbit. William had finally finished with the cheap brand of Corporate tobacco and liquorice flavoured papers, the thirty gram pouch sits empty. These and more ‘Amnematies?… Anemities...’ Amenities as one of the company agents put it, are available to him alone.. Also being a word he had never heard of before, liked and has been struggling to use in any way since. 

Dropping the pre-rolled cigarette bundles into an airtight plastic baggy, folding it tight and placing it neatly into his inside left breast pocket, bulging slightly. ‘Lice, does a number on loose smoke.’ Actions taken in hindsight to protect his nicotine fix, that is until he is inside the compound, away from the particular rampant parasite on the surface. Like piranha, a frenzied swarm devouring any trace of keratin they can find, thankfully only the type found in hair, leaving the fingernails alone. 

The drop ship shakes violently, an atmosphere breached, the tin can of a shuttle thrown about in the planets heavy and howling winds, the outer hull loudly pebble dashed by the onslaught of rain and dense hail, its bulk dropping through the clouds, whining from the stress the craft continuous it’s rocky descent. William sits alone, the only passenger on this flight, rattling around in his seat way more than any one should be, his thin frame unable to benefit from the straps and seat belts designed for such things, preventing any form of comfort. This has always been the case when it comes to his ‘Unique.’ Body shape, skeletal but athletic, eerily thin, all of these features combined with the paleness of his skin, and darkness to his eyes makes him one of the more YY Syndrome men that aren't so pleasant to look at, unsettling even. 

The entire passenger compartment is empty, chairs are being used for extra storage space, belts and straps securing supply packages instead of people just fine, his own kit opposite included. So far nothing has come loose, which has been a big concern of his since the vehicle hit the turbulence, a face full of a heavy crate or container being one of the reasons for that concern. Witnessing such a thing not too long ago, reinforced the sentiment with a ball and chain ever since, one that seems to get heavier with each and every drop to a planetary surface involving crates, caches and heavy supplies in close proximity to his own position… Like now. “Nope.” He says shaking his head. ‘Not going to happen.’ Eyes scanning everything for any sign of movement. 

“We will be arriving shortly.” The same monotone of a voice comes through the intercom as before, this time drenched in static, broadcast via the twin cone speakers located above the sealed door to the cockpit on his right. Deducing the pilot is a synthetic, the former inmate could tell by the average joe voice and speech patterns. 
“You always know an average asshole.” William says mocking a common phrase of the series.

Pondering the fully sealed cockpit for a moment before catching on. With the synth as the pilot it couldn’t be for the lice, so the added security must be in place because of him. ‘As if I would go through the trouble of stealing the shuttle.’ Thought with a frown that stays with him. ‘I’m smarter than that.’ Completely ignoring the fact he learnt that particular lesson the hard way, by stealing a corporate tagged craft. ‘A Lot of heat.’ Noticing at least two chunky surveillance cameras, each lense awkwardly catching the light as they focus, watching him, and they are just the ones he could see. “Fucking corpos!” He spits, William is offended, he plans to see this one through on the up and up, that is as long as no one gets in the way of his cheque. ‘Just here to map a shithole, a very large shithole... That’s it.’

The ship jerks sharply, forcing him to throw his hands up into the air against his will, twice this occurs and he feels stupid both of those times, especially knowing he is on camera, ones owned by a corporation, didn’t matter whose. The second time he firmly crosses both arms and locks them tight across his chest. ‘That’s not happening again.’ The next violent jerk tries and fails. ‘Exactly... Fuck you ship!’ Stomping a foot on the metal grates beneath it. 

“...Coming in for a landing…” Speakers ending with a burst of even louder static… Followed by more static.
“About goddamn time.” William says as the shuttle rumbles and shakes harder than before, the violent jumble threatening to throw him free of any strap or belt. ‘Almost over.’ Gripping them with both hands, he pushes against them all, this locks him back into his seat. A  trick he always employs on most craft when the time comes to land, stopping any serious bumps. 

Looking around he is pretty confident none of the supplies will actually fly loose, more importantly not into his head, even with the ship shaking around as badly as it was. The vehicles outer hull taking a pounding from the seriously harsh winds, minor alarms sound, alert warning of all kinds, the stinging rain and howling wind. The shower and hail now joined by something else, something that clearly begins to mess with the ships systems, engine and thrusters in ways the atmosphere down here couldn’t. 

‘Fucking Lice.’ William remembers the nightmare that the arthropod brings to all, the lice fill the air like any fog, even in the acidic rain and howling storms don’t seem to slow them down much, there is so many of them already in the air itself, there is nothing to be blown away.

This ever shifting brown haze clings and clogs anything and everything. Making short work of any working/moving parts and then there is the smell of the afterburners roasting them during any landing, toxicly thick and nauseating. ‘Burnt hair everywhere.’ The irony being that on this planet if you are wise, you’ll have none. Another thing he swore he would never do, shave anything, let alone everything off again, giving in to those damned lice. ‘Never!’ This time he was being paid more than enough to compensate. ‘Yeah…’ Company agents even offered the treatment at one of their private Corp facilities, free of charge, with even more amenities on offer. 

That final slump of the ship sends a sinking hollow hole down into his stomach,  the shuttle landing with a dense “Thud!” Engines killed as quickly as the pilot, an average joe synth calculates its a good idea to do so before the sea of insects outside clog up the shuttles systems completely. William shakes his head. ‘I’m going to be working with a load of these tin heads.’ Unable to remember exactly how many, how many bots will be following him through the compound. “Seat belts off.” Monotone through the speaker. “We have arrived at our destination. Fiorina 161.” Even more from the synthetic, this time with static. “If my services do not meet Seegson’s standards, please log a complaint.” 
“With Seegson, there is someone behind you. Helping you. Every single step of the way.”
“Seegson. Tomorrow, together.” 

Realising that the pilot. ‘Fucking droid.’ Must be stuck on some advertisement loop. ‘Why droids?’  He thought. ‘Humans can be found for just as cheap, or cheaper if you look hard enough.’ Fury 161 was one such place. Now it would be one of hard cash, an earner that will put him up for a while, as long as his typical spending habits don’t take him first, feeling a flutter of excitement, a craving over any one of these ‘Habits.’ 

Unbuckled, straps clicked he rises from his seat unable to stretch out in full, William being too tall and the passenger compartment is a little low for his stature, two dents are in the ceiling already, one where he hit his head earlier and the other where he punched the surface, pointlessly retaliating. Grabbing the Seegson survival bag from the chair opposite, the large pack is heavy and awkward to move but the weight will be evened out when he finally gets it on his back, something he won’t be able to do in here, or out there, no room to move and poor weather conditions. ‘The compound.’ Deciding on going there before planning anything. 

Reaching into his right inner breast pocket William retrieves a pair of black goggles and puts them on, lifting the heavy hood of his thick overalls up and over his head, all recycled materials mashed into one dark thick fabric. A typical Seegson product, a cheaper alternative. The outfit provided by the Company, with its logo on the back. The titular ‘S’ emblazoned in yellow. ‘Just another Corpo brand.’ He thought, the skin beneath tingling.

Unlike a hot laser to the back of the head, this is and will keep him warm throughout his stay, the way the hood is stitched in, it folds to cover almost half of ones face when pulled over and held in place. No air passes through the fabric as he tries to force a breath into it and out the other side. ‘Perfect.’  Usually one needs multiple layers, or a full face mask, prisoners on the surface got none back in the day, William knew what was about to come. Dragging his pack between the chairs of supplies, disturbing only the smallest of packages piled high before ending at the bay door, typical flashing lights, pressure stabilisation and other “Bleeps” And “Blips.” All to be expected, same shit heard a thousand times before. ‘Doors opening...’ 

“Doors opening. Good day.” From the pilot, one tone, mono. The bay doors begin to open after the typical lag expected from an average joe, but the second they go up a brown layer begins to form at the edges before his feet, William turns his boot aside, further up his trouser leg is duct taped into his boot. 

‘LICE!’ If he said it out loud they’d be in his mouth already. The swarm Ebbs and flows, stretching, sweeping searching for anything ‘Hair.’ Insects pile in patches over the access ramp, some taken with it as it stretches back down away from the ship ending at an angle on the planet's surface. The bay door finishes rolling up into itself, a loud. “Crunch!” Its motion complete, thousands of insects caught between the revolving mechanism are squashed.

Music to Williams ears, he would love to stomp them himself, a useless waste of energy, the lice are endless. Looking out at the surrounding area and the horizon beyond, the place is  barren, rocky and the soil is a brownish grey, black in most parts. ‘Just as before.’ The sky is dark cloudy, hazy. ‘Just as before.’ The wind is howling and rain pouring… a light acid, drawn in from the dark, oily ocean across the bay, the same ones that cover most of the planets surface. ‘...Just as before.’ 

“Fucking fury.” William says taking the first step off of the shuttle and onto the ramp.
Last edited by wendal on Fri 22 Nov 2019, 12:08, edited 3 times in total.
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wendal
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Re: Campaign idea and a Thank you.

Tue 19 Nov 2019, 14:39

Fiorina. ‘Fury’ 161.  
2183.  December 03.

Finally he is inside the compound, out of the howling winds, stinging rain and most importantly, the swarms of parasitic insect life. Willam does a sharp jiggle and heavy pat down all over his body before flicking his hood a couple of times, then off of his head. “Fucking Lice!” He spits now that he could, pulling his goggles down so they rest around his neck. 

Turning and almost walking directly into a working Joe synth, one apparently waiting for him,  wearing what looks like a ‘Flame thrower!’ on his back. ”I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.“ Unsure and confused William instinctively raises his hands above his head. Sent slamming back to his days as an inmate. “May I proceed with a further delousing.” The Joe says, only his mouth moving, none of the rubbery features. 
“Don’t bother.” William replies pissed at feeling any kind of threat or authority from a ‘Bucket of bolts.’ Forcing the delouser, not flamethrower jammed in his face aside. Knowing the lice coating the surface of his clothing would leave in a few moments, once they realised there is no hair on his body. A few might stick around for some stubble, but the Corp laser hair removal left none. 

Pushing past the synthetic with a solid nudge, driving his shoulder into its own, the synthetic is budged only slightly, during the jolt its glowing eyes flash red but return to the normal white as the YY moves past him completely,  William turns into the loading bay. And ‘Nothing had changed within, except for?” Breathing in, that heavy scent of raw straw, cattle and shit. ‘That and they are missing.’ 

The large bovines used to haul in the larger, heavier cargo have been replaced by the mass of average Joe synthetics, the animals stables are now columns and rows of bulky AI central control cores. Each one housing the synthetics governing artificial intelligence's, all  of which hum with energy. Generators can be found elsewhere, thick cables trailing off along the floor to wherever that is confirming this.

The ex con looks around some more, not a barcode, prisoner or custodial staff member in sight. Just average ‘Joe’s’ everywhere, carbon copies of one another with the same face and industrial overalls. The androids emotionlessly toil away, most of the synthetics doing what the cattle stabled here and prisoners were once forced too. Bringing in all of the supplies from the drop ship outside, without face masks or protective overalls, albeit silently and without complaint.

William moves stepping over cables among many littering the floor, patting down his overalls once more. Tightening the straps of his pack, including the ones added for extra security, cursing the buckles under his breath, blaming the bag for how it was sitting on his own body and not his ‘Unique’ shape. ‘Lopsided!’ “Clicking” The final strap in place, ignoring how much lighter it felt now on his back even skewed, annoyed that it didn’t fit right. 

Walking deeper into the compound, passing more synthetics going about their business, they have been in every part of the facility he has passed through so far. ‘Like lice.’ He frowns at the comparison. With no need to visit the superintendent's office, mess hall or infirmary, locations he had visited on his stay prior, the areas of the complex that lead to those places pass by and bring with them a memory from each. William avoids them all by going over what he has been sent here to do.

The Seegson company agents told him that once he arrives on site, he is to proceed immediately into the correctional units and hub areas to begin mapping and surveying the entire area. Units of average Joe synthetics assigned to him will be waiting, the androids will assist if need be and will remain at his side where possible for his own safety, in his case at two separate locations. His in depth knowledge of these two locations is why he was tracked down and hired in the first place.

Being the closest, he decides to head to the first of these on his list, correctional unit four, its hub area and ventilation systems, be they active or inactive. One of the company reps was rather insistent about this, which is the only reason he remembered, something to do with ‘Copper lined cabling.’ William didn’t care, there was a bonus involved and he knew those ducts like the back of his hand. Just more ‘Easy money.’ Like the rest of this job and it just fell into his lap, out of nowhere. ‘Too easy? Maybe?’ He thought. 

Heading toward the massive hexagonal junction that leads to each separate unit and hub. Going for his left breast pocket, retrieving the sealed baggy and opening it quickly, reaching in and grabbing a couple before sealing it shut. Raising it up to see if any insects made it in. ‘...No.’ Takes practice. Placing the loose ones in his trouser pocket, easy access for later. Raising the last pre rolled cigarette to his mouth and holding it between his teeth. A lighter, with the Seegson logo, comes out next and he uses it to light the cigarette before taking a long deep breath... ‘Nice.’  Blowing it out. 

Smoking, trying to ignore the nagging memories coming in from every angle, getting closer to the junction now, the amount of synth traffic has thinned to only a few. Blowing smoke ahead and walking into the cloud as he rounds the corner. Spotting instantly a group up ahead that were not synthetics, actual expression and the barcodes he could see said it all. These were other YY inmates hired by the company, wearing the same outfits and pack as him. 

Hoping to avoid any of the others like him, finding that it could be a small universe at times. William recognised one of them, the pet of a serious rival from within the prison, wherever one is, the other ‘Prick’ Is always close by. Somehow he manages to stay between a couple of the synthetics heading the same way, his own pale skin blending in well with the average Joes rubber. Something he probably wouldn’t admit to himself but with the low light he passes by the group of YY’s unseen. 

Heading straight to correctional unit 4, passing checkpoints and stripped office space. One room almost missed entirely, a simple broom closet, its seam hidden in one of the offices and a memory hits him like none of the others, one of comfort. Pressing the wall the closet slides open, reaching into it, up high past all of the shelves between some wiring, cobwebs and in between a crack. Fingertips touch cold metal and his eyes widened in disbelief. ‘It’s still here.’ Pulling the object out. A stashed shiv from so long ago, still bloodstained from its last use, the makeshift weapon previously a shard from a metal tray, the tip razor, painstakingly sharpened on stone, William takes the memento from times past blowing smoke through a crooked smile. “Hello old friend.”
Last edited by wendal on Sat 23 Nov 2019, 14:43, edited 1 time in total.
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"The bitch is back" Ellen Ripley.
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