Antlers
Aksiram
Captain Uni
TokyoPewPew
JFK
AuthorialTheory
MaeB
Stryder BC
Neziul[X] - Convince the synth that the most logical course of his programming is to become one with the Titans and commit group suicide (Advantage: Ego).
“ Why?,” you croak out in a light alto accent, each syllable crisp to preserve every miniscule drop of water you exhale out. “ Why do you abide by the will of the Titans?”
“ Because I was created by them,” The synth said matter of factly.
“ And they are gone. Gone. All that remains of them is the Wall and their bones littered around the Interior. You are nothing more than their trash, tossed out and forgo-”
A fist collides with your face and stars swim in your vision. Hot blood runs down your nose, dripping on your blue skin. You now have the full attention of the synth who is now busy sharpening his knife-like limbs, sparks flying off them with every twitch.
“ I was created by the whims of a grander civilization, Faa. Superior to that of even the Autarchs. The holiness of my code decrees that I am meant for great purpose, more than your desert walkers could ever hope to dream of.” The synth then motions to the rest of his followers. “ I have had enough of this mutant’s mad ramblings. Let us be free of their incessant chatter and explore their flesh for the bounty of information hidden within.”
“ Wait!,” you shout out, one of the followers stopping short of unchaining you. “ Isn’t there a more efficient means of finding out your purpose?”
“ Efficient?” The synth tilts its head in confusion. “ I’m afraid I don’t understand. Efficiency is in every diode of my being - “
“ Please.” You scoff, trying to play yourself off as cocksure, even as the lie you spin twists your tongue. “ Even a Faa like me knows that it is a common fact amongst synths that Titans reside in the data gales that stream from the lands of Golgotha to Gnomon.”
“ The data gales. That is the most irrational - “ The synth pauses as it looks down at its knife like hands in wonderment. “ Yes, yes, how else I could hear their whispers. Their code packets, I’ve been unconsciously receiving them in my circuits…..”
The synth pauses before regarding the rest of his followers. “ The quest is now clear. The Titans await us in the aether above, the remnants of their programming still broadcasting in the air. My followers, let us commune with their minds as one and bask in the glory of the first Thinkers!”
The sound of unsheathing blades fills the air as you watch each and every one of them stab themselves in the stomach. You watch as their water sloshes out of their open bellies onto the phtalo sands as they gurgle simultaneously in nirvana. Then, the camp is silent.
You have chosen Ego as your primary stat of choice.
With difficulty, you manage to grab a key from a cultist who conveniently killed himself next to you and free yourself of your bonds. The camp is sparsely maintained and is rudimentary compared to most Vaarnish outposts. You have seen cacklemaw dens that are better organized. You also discover that prying the laser rifles from their bodies is useless, as you discover that it is integrated within their very flesh.
There’s little else remaining except for a mound of chrome garbage and scrap situated next to the campfire. After hours of searching, you manage to find something useful in your rust-smeared fingers.
Choose an Exotica
[X] - An outline of a sickled knife shaped from shimmering candle-light. The iconography of Amun-Oh is stamped on the hilt; a scarab with eight legs and a snake’s tail is stamped on the hilt.
[X] - A luminous flower with cracked, shattered petals. It smells faintly of burnt root syrup.
[X] - A locked metallic box with numerous biometric padlocks. Sounds of loud squawking can be heard from the inside.
“ Why?,” you croak out in a light alto accent, each syllable crisp to preserve every miniscule drop of water you exhale out. “ Why do you abide by the will of the Titans?”
“ Because I was created by them,” The synth said matter of factly.
“ And they are gone. Gone. All that remains of them is the Wall and their bones littered around the Interior. You are nothing more than their trash, tossed out and forgo-”
A fist collides with your face and stars swim in your vision. Hot blood runs down your nose, dripping on your blue skin. You now have the full attention of the synth who is now busy sharpening his knife-like limbs, sparks flying off them with every twitch.
“ I was created by the whims of a grander civilization, Faa. Superior to that of even the Autarchs. The holiness of my code decrees that I am meant for great purpose, more than your desert walkers could ever hope to dream of.” The synth then motions to the rest of his followers. “ I have had enough of this mutant’s mad ramblings. Let us be free of their incessant chatter and explore their flesh for the bounty of information hidden within.”
“ Wait!,” you shout out, one of the followers stopping short of unchaining you. “ Isn’t there a more efficient means of finding out your purpose?”
“ Efficient?” The synth tilts its head in confusion. “ I’m afraid I don’t understand. Efficiency is in every diode of my being - “
“ Please.” You scoff, trying to play yourself off as cocksure, even as the lie you spin twists your tongue. “ Even a Faa like me knows that it is a common fact amongst synths that Titans reside in the data gales that stream from the lands of Golgotha to Gnomon.”
“ The data gales. That is the most irrational - “ The synth pauses as it looks down at its knife like hands in wonderment. “ Yes, yes, how else I could hear their whispers. Their code packets, I’ve been unconsciously receiving them in my circuits…..”
The synth pauses before regarding the rest of his followers. “ The quest is now clear. The Titans await us in the aether above, the remnants of their programming still broadcasting in the air. My followers, let us commune with their minds as one and bask in the glory of the first Thinkers!”
The sound of unsheathing blades fills the air as you watch each and every one of them stab themselves in the stomach. You watch as their water sloshes out of their open bellies onto the phtalo sands as they gurgle simultaneously in nirvana. Then, the camp is silent.
You have chosen Ego as your primary stat of choice.
With difficulty, you manage to grab a key from a cultist who conveniently killed himself next to you and free yourself of your bonds. The camp is sparsely maintained and is rudimentary compared to most Vaarnish outposts. You have seen cacklemaw dens that are better organized. You also discover that prying the laser rifles from their bodies is useless, as you discover that it is integrated within their very flesh.
There’s little else remaining except for a mound of chrome garbage and scrap situated next to the campfire. After hours of searching, you manage to find something useful in your rust-smeared fingers.
Choose an Exotica
[X] - An outline of a sickled knife shaped from shimmering candle-light. The iconography of Amun-Oh is stamped on the hilt; a scarab with eight legs and a snake’s tail is stamped on the hilt.
[X] - A luminous flower with cracked, shattered petals. It smells faintly of burnt root syrup.
[X] - A locked metallic box with numerous biometric padlocks. Sounds of loud squawking can be heard from the inside.
