Sutternalt

Mysterious File?

Not sure where to post this, as it's not exactly spam, but not quite on-topic enough for off-topic.

To be perfectly clear, I haven't written any of the following account. I discovered it in an untitled .txt file on my desktop one afternoon, and against my better judgement, I'm sharing it with you now. You may think it to be a joke or a scary story (and indeed, I have thought so myself), but the sheer curiousity inherent in human nature forces me to share it. Despite this post, some part of me wants to think that a hacker put the file there as a joke or demonstration - even while the rest desperately wants to believe. What follows is that file, edited only minimally. Judge for yourselves!
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O black Muse! O She-Devil, whose sharpened horns like blades glisten with fresh paramour! O vixen of viciousness! I beg of You to cease Your tortures, Your spearpoint-prodding and wafting of carrion! Do I not, even now, write what Your ceaseless caterwauling implores? Have I not relinquished and even now give thought shape and form, however hideous? Accept, then, these words and allow it to be done! For two years have I suffered beneath Your gaze. Sometimes it rarely-felt; and othertimes omnipresent, as if You took form from nightmare and were perched upon my shoulder awaiting the turn of my head! Would that I hadn't performed those dark deeds and ominous rituals two years ago, but it is neither mine nor Yours to change the river-flow of history.

Indulge me, then, a precious few hours more before Your final price is exacted. I haven't lived, not truly, not yet. At least allow me, if not an account of my life and times, then an account of the events leading to this very moment.

I take the abatement of pain in my head and Saturnine howling in my ears as consent. Thank You, though I suspect you care not for my thanks.

Two years ago - has it only been so long? - I was studying diligently for my Calculus II final in the Crosland tower, buried deep in the silence of the ill-visited 5th floor amongst books gathering slow dust. The city was hidden behind concrete and brickwork, and my books lay in a heap of disarray beneath my feet. Truthfully, I had stopped studying and was instead staring at my notes in blank incomprehension. The sun had long since fallen beneath the horizon, and as my watch faithfully beeped midnight, I roused myself from my daydreams. It had been my intention to nap for the preceding minutes, but failing that, I set the little watch's alarm for another 15 minutes, and resolved to nap in actuality this time.

It was in readjusting my seat's position that I caught sight of something brilliantly ruby in the steady fluorescent light. Bending over, I found it to be a small tome wholly unlike the book of endlessly marching problems beneath my seat. Titleless and without a dedication, the tome started mid-sentence, abruptly after a blank page. There were no tears, and no scraps of fabric or binding-thread, implying that the tome had been printed thusly. The words on the page flowed poetically and idiotically. No meaning was to be had from examination of the words, and as soon as one was read, the previous slipped from mind in the manner of a forgotten dream. The effect was quite like a dream, in fact, as I'd scarcely realized 15 minutes had passed before my watch beeped again.

The quality of the air in the library had changed somewhat - a significant sign, I would later learn. Though there was no identifiable scent, I had a strange sensation of light-headedness, as if lingering for too long in strong perfume. I turned back to my Calculus book, and started to rediscover the ruby tome in my hands. It was laid open to a page (they were not marked) an eighth of the way through. I struggled to grasp the gossamer memories of its contents, but could only recall vague motions of reading. Here I turned a page; there I paused, re-reading a particularly troublesome paragraph; and now disjointed fragments of mumbling through adjectives with which I'd only acquainted in passing.

Thereafter I closed the tome, examining the spine or covers for a bar code and library identification label. Finding none, but still intensely interested in the object, I placed it carefully amongst my Astronomy notebooks in my bag. Calculus II resumed its silent fury, demanding more of my attention than I was want to give to it. Still, even as I walked into the exam room the following morning (having slept very little, I admit), I could feel an imagined heat in my back where the tome ought to lie. However madly I concentrated on the calculus of infinite series and linear algebra, thoughts of that ruby's contents intruded. While idly considering an impossible problem on my fourth pass through the exam, I found myself drawing the thing in the margins.

Even so, the power of every student's mortal nemesis proved too much for Your feeble first clawing on my dreams. At night, my fancies were taken up by scholarly imitation, not the chaos of which I am more accustomed to these nights. So it was not until a week later that the ruby tome once again forced its way into my life.

End Part One

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That's all that was in the file, save for these final few words:

"This account is Scattered by Supreme decree. Reunite the pieces, and lose blissful ignorance."

It occured to me that whichever power scattered the pieces of this account did not factor for the internet's far reach. And so I must wonder if any of you have had a similar file mysteriously appear?

Long-Distance Tabletop Roleplaying?

I mean playing D&D or Pathfinder or Paranoia (etc.) via Skype or Google Hangouts. Tabletop games, traditionally played in-person, played via teleconference of some sort, in other words. I'm trying to get a feel for whether or not it's a good idea. Possibly to create/join a group that's doing it - there aren't so many tabletop groups (or people in general, for that matter) near where I live. My questions are:

1. Have you done/would you do it?
2. If you have done it, what worked or didn't? How was it different than doing it in person?
3. Would anyone be interested in setting up/joining such a group here, amongst us RPGuildies?

Looking for Co-GM: Post-Apocalyptic Supernatural Halloween Special

Sweet! I'll PM you.

Empty Horizons - A Small Scale Sci-fi RP set 700 years into the future

Are we... is this dead? Did I kill it? D:

The Four Towers Research Facility Incident

Agreed. I declare this RP dead.

Looking for Co-GM: Post-Apocalyptic Supernatural Halloween Special

I've been reading alternate history forums for a bit when I came across a gem [Note that you'll have to register to read it, regrettably]. For everyone who doesn't want to bother with registering on some other site, here's a summary:

The zombie apocalypse occurs. Regrettably, there is no patient zero; instead, some sort of contagion permeating the air, ground, and water causes dead humans and gorillas to rise again as mindless shambling carnivores. Their bite also spreads this virus, as does ingestion of their flesh or exchange of body fluids (a good reason to keep your mouth shut when shooting them). Aside from the now isolated remnants of humanity (some underground, some in bunkers, some in mountains or islands), the plague has caused severe repercussions amongst the hidden supernatural elements.

Supernatural Elements

Vampires - Territorial bloodeaters that would be mindles but for their immortality; currently considering a technological human farming scheme (involving keeping humans in comas and breeding them while they're still asleep); keeping tabs and records on all the human settlements; led by a very stodgy "old-blood"; zombies are a nuiscence to them at worst, as even those bitten retain their intelligence (if they're old enough to have intelligence), though zombie-vampires are pariahs.

Ghouls - underground carrion-eaters, hold Cthulu-types sacred and have some type of relationship with them. Seriously endangered and some communities nigh-unheard of since they holed up from the zombies. Still, though, they remain lords of the underworld, and tend to charge rent for anyone seeking shelter there.

"Egyptians" - They're the inspiration for Egyptian gods, live very deep underground, and mostly only do confusing and seemingly pointless rituals if they're awake at all, but tend to annihilate anything directly in their way; also called upon to defend tombs from desecration and take the duty seriously. A few nonconformists are eager to do something about this whole zombie problem, but are "discouraged". Pretty immune to the zombies on the whole, though; something about their skin causes zombie bites to barely pierce the flesh at all.

New Men - Mary Shelley's Frankensteins. Under serious threat from these damned zombies, as they no longer have a means of reproduction (hard to use rotting flesh as an arm), and are susceptible to the contagion themselves. On the other hand, they're quite strong and intelligent, and willing to hack off bitten limbs, so few get infected. They're working on cloning (of limbs) to fix the lack of supply. Rather distressed by the vampires, and split between wiping out the vampires (and humanity, as well), or being humanity's saviors. Very divided on this issue. Tend to be a bit of body-mod afficianados, too. There are quite a few nonhuman-shaped New Men wandering about.

Witchy-Folk - Voodoo-powered magic people. They egotistically believe that they've had a hand in Mankind's destiny (they haven't). "Herding stray cats" is a good indication of the community's powers of organizaton. Because of these two traits, they're often the source of cults and secret societies. Very susceptible to the zombies; 90% are dead. Mostly taking refuge in/hiding within/enthusiastically meddling in the remaining human communities. A few took up with the New Men, much to the shock of the New Men, who didn't know they even existed. Mostly hate vampires and don't trust ghouls. Long-standing truce with the other aberrations, which is holding, for the moment, but they're lack of numbers may change this.

Skin-Changers - Green-loving were-____ (wolf, bear, tiger, jaguar) hippies, partly upset and partly pleased with the zombie apocalypse. Pleased because Man can no longer pollute the Earth, but upset because the conveniences of Man's society (ex: Fast Food, indoor plumbing) are gone. Not that the zombies can kill them in any meaningful numbers. Not pleased with the vampires' plans. Dubious toward the New Men.

Cthulu-types - Uncomprehendible beings that tend to slumber peacefully deep beneath the earth, thanks to the machinations of those that worship them. Which may be a problem as said worshipers get affected by the zombie apocalypse. Generally drive living humans to insanity upon sight.

---

The RP itself would be a classic "adventuring party saves the world!", first trying to disrupt the Vampire's plans to "reform" humanity (and maybe throw in a civil war amongst the New Men), and then trying to convince the Cthulu-types if they would please go back to sleep for a little while. Throw in a few side-plots - overthrow the witch's thrall on the mayor of a small human community; make it through the zombie-gorilla infested lost city of formerly-sentient gorillas; explore the community of zip-lining penthouse/rooftop garden dwellers in former Seattle; and so on, all the while dropping hints about the ultimate problem of the Cthulu-types.

I'd need a Co-GM to help flesh out the plot and take over the RP in case of my disappearance. Anyone interested?

Empty Horizons - A Small Scale Sci-fi RP set 700 years into the future

"What about the hacker?" Dreeson asked.
"There aren't many willing to do the job—" Marcus started.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm already paying you too much. You're not getting more. Who've we got?"
"Sysco, Greene, Belli—"
"Aw, come on, Marcus, you're killin' me. I said I needed the best. None of these guys have the brains to pull off a job on the Bank of Venus, and you know it."
"They're the only ones desperate enough to try."
"What, nobody wants to be rich no more?"
Marcus drew in a sharp breath. Dreeson smiled; that was Marcus' tell. "There's a new guy, but he's kinda… funny."
"Funny how?"

---

"What's this? You don't trust me? You'd insult me by not letting me see your face?" Dreeson asked.
"Marcus informed you of this condition." The little device said.
"Yeah, and he also says you can hack the Bank, but I don't have to trust him. I need a demonstration."
"I cannot hack into the Bank of Venus from here. Their network is independent."
"Oh, we've a comedian here. No, I don't want you to hack the Bank. Not without the proper groundwork. Sysco, get over here!"
Sysco came running, fumbling with softtop computer in his hands.
"Sysco, this is Watson. Watson, this is Sysco. Greet each other, like gentlemen."
"Hello," Sysco said.
"Good day, sir," Watson said.
"Good. Now, Watson, get me every file off of Sysco's softtop."
"What‽" Sysco shouted.
"Relax, Sysco, if you're half as good as you claim you are, it shouldn't be a problem. If you've been lying to me, on the other hand, then you're a liability."
"Computing," the little device said.

Sysco went to turn off his softtop's antenna.

"Hey," Dreeson said, waving a few of his muscle over. "Don't be stupid. Let's play fair. I've got the utmost confidence in your abilities, Sysco." Dreeson sat down. "Get some food in here, huh?" he said to one of the goons. "It's gonna be a while."

Four and a half hours later, Watson announced that he'd completed the file transfer around the same time Sysco began pounding the desk with his fist in frustration. Shortly after that, there was a loud bang, and it was done.

"Alright, you're in," Dreeson announced. His muscle were cleaning up the mess behind him.
"If we are entering contract, I have terms."
"Money's not good enough for you? People these days."
"I do not require money."
"Well, that's different."
"In exchange for my services, I would like for you to arrange a meeting with GenSec. And I ask that you carry my PDA with you at all times."
"What, so you can spy on me? No."
"Then I will find someone who will carry my PDA."
"Wait a minute, wait a minute. Let's not be hasty. We might be able to work something out here," Dreeson was stalling. "You want your PDA carried around everywhere? Maybe I can do something. But then you work for me."
"You have stated the terms of my proposal. I would agree."
"Then we got a deal. Hey, you," Dreeson said, picking one of his goons at random. "You got a new job. Stay the hell away from my operations," Dreeson tossed the PDA, "and carry this around. I'll contact you when I need Watson's services. Now get outta here."

---

Row 45 was currently undergoing maintenance procedures. Row 44 was synching. The stresses on row 40a began to fade as data was redistributed. In a few minutes, the process was complete, row 40a was reset, and data from row 46 was copied over.

Primary(object.generator) continued to function as expected. Watson felt some satisfaction at how smoothly it could manage the nuclear reactions. The object was buried deep beneath its bunker in Tyre(object.city), free from most any unexpected disturbance. An occasional deep bass shaking would interfere with the otherwise well-measured and routine process. The chemical mix of the coolant would taste off, but Watson had recently adjusted how it handled such a scenario. Original(object.generator) remained in a state of readiness; it looked cool and well-lubricated. The petroleum tanks associated with Original felt full and a test of the carburetor left a pleasantly well-mixed aftertaste.

Watson didn't feel any unexpected large amount of latency from time-stamped packets sent around its network. Flounder(object.probe.rover_Triton), of course, wouldn't respond for another (approximate) 0960 0000ms. But latency problems with Flounder could be due to any number of unexpected disturbances, and diagnosing would take another 0960 0000ms to simply initiate. It was frustrating.

Cracks in the bunker were still present, despite Watson's best efforts to seal them. One was even slowly working its way through Barracks(object.room.storage) toward MessHall(object.room.condemned). Complete structural failure was estimated to occur in 0001 1983 6800 0000ms, barring unexpected disturbances.

The solar sunspot cycle was winding down, allowing Watson to increase its electromagnetic vulnerability. Its antennae were gradually extending toward their maximum exposure beyond the Faraday cage. No recent electromagnetic attacks had been undertaken.

No recent physical attacks had been undertaken against the bunker, and all(object.weapon.defense) were operational. Watson tested 100,000 processes, and found that they all felt uncorrupted, and did what it expected them to do.

Watson had secured contracts with companies through Agents(object.external.creature.sentient:AIR,RH,JL,[…]) that guaranteed at least another 3153 6000 0000ms of petroleum, nuclear fuel, spare parts, Offsite(object.celestial.Triton) construction, and wiring. Watson Data Industries - the shell company it used for most business deals - was hardly the leader of its field, but that was due to Watson's non-interest in profits for the sake of profit. If WDI was making net profit, the company would reliably buy a new data center in the following months. It was a safe, if not terribly lucrative, investment. At present, a hefty 11% of its servers were dedicated to anonymous, private, and secure data storage.

---

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Empty Horizons - A Small Scale Sci-fi RP set 700 years into the future

Quinteple post! A new record!

Empty Horizons - A Small Scale Sci-fi RP set 700 years into the future

Er. What? I definitely didn't mix you up with Maxim. Only a fool would make such a basic mistake.

*furious editing*

Look, my post even said "Maxim".

The Four Towers Research Facility Incident

Sure, why not. If the lack of responses keeps up, I'll PM people that we're waiting on. If that doesn't work, hey, free NPC's (unless they come back)!