|Coolpikaaa's Journal | Survivor: Space |
Hi, I'm Coolpikaaa, but I can easily go by CP! Long time lurker, first time active participant! I've been playing Creatures for years ever since I found C2 at an electronics store as a kid. I also like space! And RPing! If only there was some way I could RP Creatures in space... Oh! Wait! There is! And I'm prepared for it....
| 8/18/2013|| 3|
"The robot cannot be trusted."
I didn't come here to make friends. I didn't come here to camp out under the stars, eat marshmallows, and sing around the fire. I came to win.
I've prepared. I've done my homework. When I found out this year's survivor challenge was space themed, I studied every resource I could to become as knowledgeable as possible on the subject. Being raised in space certainly gives me an edge, but I still needed more in order to come out on top. The Ettin herd grew even more impatient with my scouring of their piles for precious resources, further distancing themselves from me.
But they simply didn't understand what it takes to win.
Yet... perhaps I still wasn't prepared enough. Obviously something has gone dramatically wrong, as this morning, one instance after another, I've been surprised. Surprised at the emptiness that greeted us on arrival, surprised by the warp bubbles that took us to our rooms after fruitless waiting, and surprised by the audio recording shared by the robot.
I'm surprised because... I'm sure now that the crew is dead. Before I could even prove my superiority, the game is over, and everyone has lost. Either this is simply a ruse to get us to really "survive", or we are now actually stranded in space with something aboard lurking in the shadows. It's a sobering thought.
I've started thinking though. Planning my next move, while sharpening my sword. I need to get to the bridge. No matter what the situation truly is, arriving there will reveal the ultimate fate of the crew, while providing evidence as to what attacked them. I may even be able to access the ships controls and figure something out that could get us home.
The electronics on board are clearly damaged however, and I am not equipped to repair them. Speaking of which, I do not trust this artificial intelligence that is supposedly watching over us. For one, it's revealed that data storage has become corrupted somehow, as pointed out by myself needing to re-register before writing this, and the nearly indecipherable "introduction". If the system is broken, and the robot runs on the system, is it not safe to assume the robot is also broken? For all I know, he corrupted before any of this, and it was actually him that killed the crew.
Going to the bridge could help me deal with that little problem too.
I am so glad I managed to access the journal systems from this terminal, because I absolutely must share the.... bibble that I've been forced to deal with for the last several hours.
[The screen flickers, interrupting the video recording Coolpikaaa's journal. His image shrinks and moves to the top corner while what must be a direct feed of the terminal's screen takes over.]
: OPEN BRIDGE - MAIN DOOR
> UNABLE TO COMPLY
: ACTIVATE BRIDGE - MAIN DOOR
> UNABLE TO COMPLY
: PUSH DOOR
> UNABLE TO COMPLY
: PULL DOOR
> UNABLE TO COMPLY
: EAT DOOR
> UNABLE TO COMPLY
: HAND, OPEN THE DOOR
> I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT, COOLPIKAAA
> RESTARTING TERMINAL...
> HAVE A NICE DAY
[The video fades out here, and when it comes back, the Ettin is laying face down against the keys in frustration.]
"For the record..."
[This entry seemingly starts out exactly how the last one ended. An off white Ettin rests his head on the keys of a terminal, having, for now at least, given up hope of accessing the ships bridge. He remains mostly still, and eventually the recording picks up speed while the timestamp accelerates alongside the image.
CP twitches every so often, changing position several times in seemingly fast motion. The night passes in mere minutes, and the recording slows back to normal speed to capture his awakening.]
[The Ettin moves slowly, pushing himself off the keys, apparently unaware of his surroundings. He wipes drool from the side of his mouth, and hastily off the keyboard. A notice is blinking a searing red from the terminal screen, reflected in his face.]
> SHUTTLE 4 - CRITICAL AIRLOCK ERROR
> DOCKING BAY AIRLOCK UMBILICAL 4 - UNKNOWN ERROR
> CHECKING OCCUPANTS...
> OCCUPANT FOUND - CONTESTANT NIMHSLAB
> SHUTTLE 13 - UNKNOWN ERROR
> CHECKING OCCUPANTS...
> OCCUPANT ERROR
What's going on here? Have people been trying to leave the ship?
[CP moves from the terminal slightly, stretching. Napping on the horizontal keypad was obviously not comfortable by the pained look on his face. The Ettin picks his sword up off the ground, looks at the screen again, and runs off camera.]
[Several security cameras, some black and white, some color, track his progress as he jogs through the vessel. In one hallway, a camera records an odd stream of orange fluid leaking from the air duct. It splashes just off from the Ettin's foot, and he stops to look at it for a few seconds before resuming. CP arrives at the row of shuttles, some missing, and checks around as if looking for something.]
"The definition of good."
[The security cameras continue to record the docking bay scene, now picking up the muffled voice of someone inside the pod.]
NIMHSLAB: "OW! Yes, Watch out for the Monster! It might still be hanging around!"
COOLPIKAAA: I don't...
[Cp checks once more around him, not spotting any beings other than himself.]
COOLPIKAAA: I don't see anyone out here.
NIHMSLAB: "My door is jammed! I'm going to try to fix the connection, You might hear a loud 'Wham'!"
COOLPIKAAA: Go ahead. What exactly is it you're trying to do?
[True to the other creature's word, a loud "Wham" is heard. CP looks up from a odd streak of orange leading away from Shuttle 4's door. Something may actually have been here at some point in the night after all...]
COOLPIKAAA: Are you hitting the door!?
[There is a gaseous hiss, several clangs as locks engage, and a nearby light that was red, turns green. Apparently the other creature had managed to knock her damaged ship back into place.]
COOLPIKAAA: I think that might have done it! I'll give you a moment to get your suit off and...
[The shuttle door begins to open automatically, and everything seems to be on track for a lucky return to the ship.
CP draws his sword.]
COOLPIKAAA: HEY! STAY BACK!
[The Ettin rushes forward, pounding the button for the door controls. They hiss, quickly closing before they even expanded fully.]
COOLPIKAAA: Why aren't you wearing a suit!? Did you go down there with nothing on?!
[The Ettin steps back swiftly, looking terrified and lost.]
COOLPIKAAA: Y-You could be sick! You could have brought something back from down there! You could get us sick too!
I... I have to...
[CP moves to a nearby terminal, accessing it and frantically typing. The Ettin has opened the ship wide messaging service, and as soon as he is done, this, and every terminal witness-able down the hall now has a blinking amber light. Everyone should have a notice to receive.]
COOLPIKAAA: I'm... I'm so sorry. I can't let you come on board. You could...
There... should be rations in the escape pod. A survival kit in case you crashed. Check under the seat.
[Cp sits down in the middle of the hall, obsessively holding onto his weapon. Waiting for the others to arrive. Waiting for someone to tell him what to do.]
COOLPIKAAA: I'm so sorry...
"What we're gonna do."
For the majority of the morning, myself and the Grendel sat opposite of each other, on either ends of an airlock, sitting in silence. She had tried pleading her case a few times, citing her Grendel anotomy as an effective countermeasure to anything she may have picked up on the planet's surface. I explained each time that "even if she was safe from becoming sick, that didn't mean all of us were". Plus, I'm not even sure that Grendel immune system thing was true. The ones that I have seen certainly don't seem that way.
I went raiding through one of the other shuttle pods emergency kits while we waited for others to arrive. I found a lot of useful survival gear, blankets, a waterskin, matches... great things, just not really necessary in this case. Luckily I also found a few packages of zander fish jerky and an electrolyte beverage to conquer hunger. It dawned on me I hadn't eaten in near days. Time sure flies onboard this ship.
Someone did come, eventually. Just not in the way I would have wanted. The ship shuddered slightly, and there was that airlock hiss again, and out climbed a Siamese Norn. I guess they had been down on the surface for a while, and had just arrived back on board to check in.
They just... climbed right out, though! Is everyone on this ship... Eem intensely crazy?!
The Norn just sauntered over after spotting me, curious about what was locked in the escape pod. Clearly they didn't see me with my horrified expression and automatic withdrawl when they drew close.
"It's a Grendel." I explained. "One of the other contestants. I locked them in the pod because they went down to that planet without a suit, picking up all kinds of unknown contaminants, then trying to just bring them back here. Which, by the way, [I] is something you just did. [/I]."
I let that soak in while I tried to figure out what to do next. It was too late now to try and stuff the Norn back into a pod...
"Okay... I know. We'll find the medical bay. There is bound to be anti bacterial stuff there. We should... probably try and take stock of our medicines anyway. I don't think... we'll be going home for a very, very long time."
I walked over, and opened the Grendel's escape pod. I sure hope she isn't sore about being locked in a tiny room for hours on end. Perhaps I could say something to diffuse the situation?
"After you, m'lady...?"
That'll probably work. Girls love that stuff.
| 8/20/2013|| 2|
Ant? I certainly hope she wasn't talking about me. I had been rather content with the the smug smile she had given after the "m'lady". I suppose maybe I shouldn't have kept her locked away for so long.
The Grendel certainly seemed eager to go. I agreed with her gusto in this case, as I didn't want to catch sick in the cold vacuum of space. What had she been on our back about? Finding a map was easy enough. They have them displayed pretty much right from the get go when you access a terminal. Then again, I don't really need to tell anyone that, if they insist on giving me thanks.
"It looks like it's just a floor below the Bridge. I was just there, I can take you. Oddly small room though..." I told them, looking to find the Norn trying to activate a biohazard shower. I had seen it on my first sweep of the airlock, but it hadn't really clicked in my mind as to it's purpose. Unfortunately, like plenty else on the ship, it seemed out of order. All that came out was that same orange slime that seemed to be absolutely everywhere on the ship. I have no idea what it's for.
Figuring someone might as well lead the charge, and I just happened to know where we were going, I left first. I had thought both would follow, but not hearing any footsteps behind me made me turn.
Something was off about the Norn. She seemed... unaware, as if her mind had gone somewhere else. I knew I was right about the sickness.
"I told you! Look at them, you can get sick! We... have to get her to the medbay!" I told the Grendel, while moving closer (but not too close) to the Norn.
"Listen to my voice, we're going to help you, but you have to follow us, okay?"
I've now waited one whole day for the Siamese, and Grendel to arrive at the medical bay. We grew... separated somehow two days ago on the trek over, and I only can assume their condition has deteriorated to a point where they are no longer aware of their surroundings and thus unable to find the way here. I may have to go find out what's happened to them.
In the mean time though, I've managed to keep myself occupied with what I've found here. Upon arriving, I was rather shocked with the state of our ship's medical facilities. Most of the things I've found here are just... junk. It seems as though this room was repurposed to serve as storage just before our arrival. Honestly, I've seen more cleanly piles of gadgets in a desert ettin's stash. A vast majority are simply broken, and the ones that aren't, I just don't know how we could use. A pregnancy monitor? Ugh.
But this journey was not completely wasted. I've found a few things, cough medicine, shee wine... but most importantly, food! It's not much, and certainly not a variety, but in a untouched cupboard, I've found several Albian Tomatoes, to "promote sex drive", and a fair supply of lemons to cure most ailments. I've begun thinking if we will be onboard the ship for some time, we will need a stable food supply, and these mature fruits may just be what we need to kickstart it. I'll need to find fertile ground though...
It may be time for a trip to this planet everyone's raving about.
| 8/24/2013|| 1|
: Prepare Launch Sequence "Shuttle Pod 12"
> Preparing Launch
[A camera flickers to life inside one of the pods, broadcasting a black and white image of a long haired ettin in a space suit. He is completely covered in the protective materials except for a helmet, which rests on the command chair behind him. Also in the pod is the Ettins pixel like sword, the Bat Head to provide added comfort to the seat, and a medium sized cooler, presumably to store the fruit Coolpikaaa had found earlier.]
> SHUTTLE LAUNCH IN 8
[The Ettin takes his seat, dons his helmet, and straps into the command chair.]
> SHUTTLE LAUNCH IN 3
> SHUTTLE LAUNCH IN 2
> SHUTTLE LAUNCH IN 1
[Inside the pod, everything rocks around as the small craft disengages, floating away from the main vessel. Inside, gravity ceases to continue it's hold, and the Ettin lifts out of his seat slightly. He adjusts his straps just before the thrusters engage, aiming the craft into the planet's atmosphere.]
> WARNING! ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS UNSAFE FOR LANDING.
[The craft rumbles, and rain lashes against the pod's window. It's an absolute torrent, with flashes of lighting nearly every second.]
> WARNING! ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS UNSAFE FOR LANDING.
> WARNING! ATMOSPHERIC CONDITIONS UNSAFE FOR LANDING.
[One more flash, and this one knocks out audio, and cripples video to nothing more than a flickering stream.]
> WARNING! UNSAFE POWER SURGE DETECTED! SEVERE DAMAGE TO LIFE SUPPORT, NAVIGATION, POWER REGULATION, THRUSTERS, LANDING GEAR, ACCESSORY, COMMUNICATIONS, OPERAT-
[There is a final shudder, and the recording ends.]
I awoke to pain and darkness. A narrow beam of sunlight was caught on exposed wiring, the only source of light. I could make out a lot of exposed wiring. What happened here?
The sight of a dark monitor brought me back. The crash... the lightning must have brought all the electrical systems down. I just needed to get outside, and regain my bearings. I still had a mission. Something glistened across the floor, but I gave it no mind.
I still had the mission.
A snag. I couldn't get out of my seat! The belt. How could I be so dense... but it was already undone...
I realized what was glistening on the ground, grabbed hold of the exposed hilt of my sword, and pulled it out of my shoulder.
I feel like I've been asleep for a week.
I likely have.
To be honest, I'm not sure how I survived the crash. After removing my own sword from my shoulder, I stuck it in the door of my crashed pod, and pried it open. The sunlight was blinding, though I'm not sure if it was from the natural climate of the planet, or my blood loss. I've lost a lot of blood.
My pod seems to have crashed in a desert oasis of some kind. There's a few meters of water stretching out in every direction, about knee deep, with a sparse couple of palm trees around the border. My pod crashing has displaced sand, creating a little sandbar to rest on. I can either stay here, or try and see what's past the water's edge. I choose the second option, grabbing my sword and cooler of fruit, and began to cross the shallow tides.
It was hard going. I could barely stand after a while, and everytime the wet sand slipped out from under my feet, my wound tore again, and resolve left as quickly as my lifeblood.
Things started... becoming hazy then. Each step felt like an eternity as I struggled on. After a few more minutes of this... I just stopped. I stuck my sword point down into the wet earth, and used it as a cane to keep my body up. I realized I was going to die. I realized I had failed my mission.
I saw him standing on the water's bank. A Draconian Norn, red as the water around me, just waiting in the sunlight, staring right at me. I tried calling out, but he didn't react. I recognized him. It was one of my fellow survivors, one I had seen when we were all together before being escorted to our rooms. What was he doing here? Why wouldn't he answer?
I developed such hope. I created a story in my mind of how he had seen my crash, and came to help. It didn't explain his current behavior, but in that moment, was the only thing I had left to cling to. Soon, I slipped into unconsciousness, and must have floated closer to shore. There was a large rock formation that kept my body sheltered from the blazing sun while I rest, and every so often, a handful of hours each day, I would be awake, only to drink a mouthful of water, and eat one of my fruit. I felt guilty about that, eating, when I should have been gardening. Creating a renewable food source for the others. But I needed it. I needed to rest.
It's days later, and I'm still barely mobile. I mostly sit under the rock and watch the sunlight bounce. Bounce off the water, bounce off my crashed pod, then bounce to me. I've left detritus of the fruit I've had to eat laying around, hoping it might take.
I also think. I think about the other survivors still in space. I think about that Grendel I locked in the pod, and how guilty I really do feel about that. I hope she's alright. I also think about the Draconian contestant I saw, and how he was likely a delusion of my damaged body. I don't know why I imagined him. I hadn't seen him since the first moment, and wasn't even sure what happened to the guy. The one thing I can't shake though, the one thing that bothers me, every moment I'm conscious, every little second I get to think about it more and more...
Is how he's still standing right here.
"Scattered Storms, Scatterbrained"
It's been raining off and on all day. By raining, I mean pouring.
By pouring, I mean it may as well be a hurricane.
It could be a hurricane. I'd like to think the off and on storms are coming from one massive cloud, that passes over my oasis, grows to miss us, and comes back for another visit. I don't like the storm's visits though.
I don't know what I'm writing anymore.
The tomatoes have taken. That's one thing worthwhile to log. While they are just sprouts in the ground at the moment, they seem healthy enough that I may have a full crop soon. The lemons on the other hand, I'm not so sure about. They seem to want to grow, but just keep wilting after growing about that high. It's odd, and really quite a shame, as I was relying on their medicinal aid for the duration of my stay.
I'd like to end that, by the way. I'm done with this little pool, the rocks just barely wide enough to shelter in, and the sand that jars my wounds. I would like to go back to the ship. Receive some proper medical attention, perhaps discuss my... problem with visitors in confidentiality. For now I've gone about ignoring him, which he continues to prove difficult by only catching my gaze during bright flashes of lightning. Yikes.
Despite the thunderstorm, I also tried to see if there was any chance of contacting the others. While my pod is too severely damaged, perhaps if I am able to locate my position, another may be able to send for pickup. While the screen itself is out of commission, I've had some luck using the input keys, and judging what it may have done based off the tones through the speakers. It's terribly aggravating work, but it keeps my mind occupied.
I... actually think I might be broadcasting! I just need to-
[Static, Then audio begins to play.]
Unless someone up there heard that, it's back to square one.
Day Twenty Two
"Dot dot dot, dash dash dash...."
I wonder why the weather always seems so dismal when I write these things.
Perhaps I feel more inspired to have my thoughts flow when it's not wasting beautiful daylight. Either way, thick clouds are creeping in on the horizon, and I am talking to myself again. Or you, whoever you, dear reader, may be. I thank you for your support. For bearing with me through these uncertain times. For trying to piece together what might have been my life with the tiny bits I provide. I thank my pod for still working enough to write these things down. It's kind of comforting, thinking real people may be out there, instead of just those I've created of bloodloss and shock.
I don't know if this survivor thing ever really started. I'd like to think that artifical intelligence way up above is broken enough it's still sending out updates on our progress, despite all the crew having seemingly died.
I have theories on that too, but that's a ramble likely for another time.
I have been busy, dear reader, and I have results to showcase my success. You'll have to take my word for it, as you can't hear what I hear at the moment, but my pod is pinging! It's been how many days? Nearly a week? But I've managed to program my crashed pod ship to emit a series of data filled "pings" to the main ship, packets of information, that above all, let anyone who may be left locate my oasis! I fairly certain my fellow survivors will send someone along right quick, and I will definitely have a surprise for when they get here.
Fruit! Fresh, planet grown fruit! I fixed the lemon problem, it turns out they just needed a trellis! Now I'm up to my ears in those, and tomatoes. It'll be great! We'll eat, feast, party, deal with my crippling insanity, then have a good night's sleep and figure this whole survivor thing out in the morning.
It'll be great.
I'll be waiting!
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