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communicate & protect
"The best way to protect something is to set it free."
Since the Moira has arrived on Ceta, things have been (mostly) quiet considering their usual stay on planets before it. The only cruelty about this one is the fact they hunt for both sport and gain, and the creatures of Ceta do not have a voice—or intelligence to defend themselves. However, as the crew of the ship will come to learn, this is an elaborate lie. With the previous problem of the MID malfunctioning, and causing a bit of a miscommunication fiasco, finally solved, it is apparent that whatever had been wrong with this technology had slowly begun to affect the crew prior to exploring Ceta. Only in subtle, unnoticed ways.
With everything beginning to run a little more smoothly, a shift in the air overtakes both the Moira and Ceta in the days following. ☄ A LESSON IN MID COMMUNICATION ( 03.17 - 03.22 )As the translator technology has recently been fixed, the crew will notice that their MID devices now come with an extra feature: a brief explanation of the extra capabilities of the translation technology. Each MID records all language that is spoken near it, stores information on phonetics and linguistics in order to keep each language as current as possible. In the event that an unknown language is encountered, all known languages are applied until the meanings of each sound or word are decoded. In some instances, it’s a long process, and in others, it spans the time of a few weeks.
There is a small addendum that states that no conversations are recorded and stored in their entirety in order to protect privacy.
Crew may ask themselves why this is there, but all they have to do is get close enough to one of the flying, whale-like creatures to find out. Communication is still not quite perfect, and this is where the translator technology needs the crew’s help. The more two beings interact using speech, the further the database will expand. Attempting communication might be futile at first, but eventually, the low peaceful songs filling the misty air of Ceta are broken with words: a cry for help When the creatures have come close to the temporaries before, it was not out of curiosity; it was an attempt to destroy them and save themselves. But remember, even if you want to help, these creatures are skittish around sudden light and it takes time for them to trust, time the Moira might not have. ☄ TRADE FOR RESOLUTION ( 03.22 - 03.25 )It’s common knowledge that this universe runs on a system of trade for either goods or services. If you can provide either of those to another, then you can have anything you want. This includes protection. The closest neighboring planet, like so many others, has a variety of groups that can be hired out to perform a number of duties. In an effort to offer the crew peaceful resolution for something that they’ve learned is discomfiting to many Moirans, the hunting and killing of innocent creatures on Ceta, the captains suggest something a little different this time.
Contact and an initial payment has been made to a team of soldiers to travel to Ceta to meet with the crew. Essentially, if enough valuable resources are offered to this group, they will do whatever is necessary to rid Ceta of the hunters and declare that Ceta is a protected planet. This means that they will protect these giant creatures from future harm as long as a yearly sum is delivered to them. The captains agree to continue payment as long as the rest of the crew can gather enough for the first year. ☄ FEEDING FRENZY ( 03.25 - 03.31 )With everything finally coming to a peaceful close, the Moira and the crew’s routine begin to return to normal. The process for leaving Ceta is spread ship-wide. However, as they leave Ceta’s atmosphere and enter space once more, some odd things appear to have flooded the ship. An infestation of scraplets have led to minor complications that soon start to escalate. Feeding exclusively on metal, they make a mangled mess of the ship's systems, causing them to glitch and stop working altogether as they chew their way through its internal workings. You may notice your door will no longer open or close, or maybe the temperature has gotten unusually warm. Is that a leak? How did that get there? Maybe you happen to be made of metal yourself, or have metallic prosthetics - "living" metal is actually preferred over the walls of the ship.
The infestation will start to threaten critical systems if left unchecked and will need to be taken care of as quickly as possible. It is the crew’s responsibility to band together and figure out a way to stop these scraplets from devouring the entirety of the ship and leaving them stranded or worse.
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hohnkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-03-17 09:28 pm
no subject
Aaannd... leave you? I'm a little uncomfortable doing that, I have to be honest.
[in addition to leaving a load of scraplets wandering around an area so close to space. riptide can't even draw his pistol - or, well, he could, but he doesn't want to risk it.]
You've thinned them out, I think we can finish them off!
no subject
As long as they don't bring some friends, that is.
[ At least he don't have to worry about deflecting blaster fire. Instead, he's focusing the right amount of energy to split the remaining offenders. Several are pushed aside while he advances on those closest to him. ]
no subject
[... anyway, riptide hisses at one that gets brave and stops on it, kicking the remains towards the others.]
Go on! Cannibalize! That's... ex-living metal, close enough!
no subject
and whether therapy in this case would entail careful applications of psychology or sweeping applications (haha) of programming instead. ]They're disorganized. As long as we remain organized, it shouldn't be an issue.
[ He gestures to a line of scraplets. ] Can you coax those this direction? Towards me. [ Let's work ~together~. ]
no subject
Alright... but any fingers I lose, I'm holding you accountable.
[he gets down on his knees to reach forward better, wiggling the fingers of his out stretched hand.]
Come on... come eat me...
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[ It's okay, Riptide, arms are much more Obi-Wan's style anyway. Fingers aren't worth the effort. ]A little more... a little more...
[ Kenobi waits and when the timing's right, he advances on the scraplets, his lightsaber taking care of each in turn. It's a flurry of sparks and motion that ends in a full stop, the Jedi's boot planted firmly on an the last obvious offending machine. The tip of his lightsaber cuts through where he figures its computerized brain exists and it whirs until it stops moving altogether. ]
Any others?
no subject
[he shakes his head, then makes a gesture at the dead scraplets that can only be construed as obscene.]
No. No others. Thanks for the assist, I always like to end my day on a good healthy dose of not being eaten alive. Especially twice in the same month.
no subject
[ He offers something of a small smile. It's... strange to find himself so fond of a robot. It's not typically Obi-Wan's way, of course. But there's something undeniably alive about the robots he's encountered on the Moira. Or maybe he's finally taken that last step of acceptance. ]
Good luck, Riptide.
no subject
[he gives obi wan the double gunfingers.]
Try not to... I don't know. Trip, or something? Thanks again.