A vast starship drifts silently into an an unknown Solar System in an Uncharted region of the Galaxy. Ancient, derelict, lifeless . . . but for a single sleeping form entombed in its cryo-pod, murmuring vital signs sustained for countless lost millennia. Some uncertain cue triggers the activation of systems, vast bulkheads groaning like tortured alien gods, sparks erupting from corrupted hubs, dimly flickering lights streaming across kilometres of databanks and control surfaces. The ship is old, forgotten, but some functions have survived, and as frail life support systems conclude their dire assessments, the lone functioning pod begins It's boot cycles. The Pod glows in the dark chamber, pulsating as stasis nanite solutions are flushed, vigor-nanites are pumped in and a delicately intricate heating sequence hums with polyphonic microwaves, reclaiming your body from entropy. Gradually, [[YOU AWAKEN|cryo1]]The sensation of coming out of cryo is always an eldritch one. It's like, suddenly you're awake and aware of your surroundings... Except there's a maddening sense that you've been lying there for a really long time. One that rapidly approaches vertigo as the shock of that initial moment solidifies. You see, your body has been frozen indefinitely in a gelatinous nanite-nutrient suspension that feeds and maintains it on a cellular level while a temporary scaffold of other nanites bond to your nervous system and constrict your neural activity to a steady droning sine wave of next to nothingness. No dreams. Just a darkness you vaguely remember seeing, being. You're practically dead, except that you're not. And when the time's right, Another nanite solution starts to heat the body up and feed in complex nutrients while the neural manifold basically shocks your bioelectrics back to the vital state. For most sleep cycles up to 10 years, It's fairly gentle stuff, and you'd be right as rain after a few hours of cognitive rec. and physio-hacks. Now, however, as you lie in the magenta glow, orange-pink goop draining around you, the slow hum of the microwave pulses cleaning your skin and massaging your proprioception into being, you have no idea how long It's been. Actually, you can see okay now, but behind your eyes, It's murky, and you suddenly realize you can't remember your name... Your jolted from the onset of sluggish panic by a voice on the cryo-pod speakers, [["PASSENGER 451 RECOVERY COMPLETE - CRYO-POD X17 DISENGAGING - WELCOME BACK DOCTOR CHANG!"|cryo2]][[Doctor Chang....|name]] That's our name then, perhaps. The pods hydraulics have engaged, raising you to a forty five degree angle, and the carapace has retracted. Neural shunt cables and feeder tubes release and slither into their sheaths, and manacles snap open, releasing you from restraint. Your body slowly, reluctantly, tries to push off, to stand, to somehow step out of the pod, like something you've never done before but might have seen in a holo-film... You buckle over, crashing to the dust-layered, padded floor. The convulsions come as you balance on all-fours, a suddenly awakened digestive system urgently purging the residual nanite gel residing in your guts. [[You throw up, violently...|cryo3]]The nanite-suspension burns exiting your body, but the smart-fluid comes out cleanly in one long disgusting stream. You roll over onto your back, suddenly able to breathe properly [[GASP|cryo4]]The slow acting electrolyte formulae and micronutrient solutions are taking effect now, and your body grows less numb, less heavy, more alive, as you lie in your own orange-pink self-cleaning smart-vomit, devouring breaths on the soft rubberized floor. [[gasp|cryo5]][[Sheepishly rising to your feet, you take your first wobbly steps in God knows how long...|cryochamber]]The primary Cryochamber is a vast hangar-sized room with massive blast-shielded doors on one end and the remaining three walls stacked floor to ceiling with rows of [[dormant pods|cryopods]]. A medical service [[droid|droid]] stands, twitching, in the centre of the room. The open blast doors lead to a wide [[corridor|access1]]."CHANG" "CHHANNNGGG" "CH - ANG" Running it over in your head, It's just a weird arbitrary sound. But then you just got out of cryogenic stasis and you're stuck in that weird amnesiac fugue at the moment...like being eternally stuck in the first few seconds of waking up in the morning, half there... Names, so weird, like we sew them onto our souls when we get them, forms intrinsically signified by a sound, a word... And now yours has detached and could be anything. [[Oh well...|cryo2]]Rows of pods are retracted into the wall, the circular ends of their enclosed cylinders flashing dim red emergency signals. Noone else made it then. over five hundred dead neighbours for the countless ages you've been asleep. Your pod glows a smug blue "ready" signal as it's carapace closes and it's hydraulics tuck it back into the new mausoleum. [["Fuck."|cryochamber]]The dead-eyed benign form of the med-droid twitches as though caught in a perpetual electronic stroke of sorts. Egshell textured baby-blue skin, a friendly yet almost featureless face, and the bright red cross still visible on it's dusty forehead, the perfect bedside companion for your medical needs. There's a strange sense of familiarity about this soft blue mannequin, and you step closer. Something, it starts as instinct, makes you reach for the circular blue cap on the side of It's head. [[You press the cap, like a button.|droid2]]You step into a brightly lit access tunnel, lined with similar blast doors. Most of them are [[cryochambers|deadchambers]]. The near end of the tunnel opens into an [[observation deck|obs1]]. The far end terminates with an open [[Turbolift.|lift1]]You're mildly startled as the cranium of the droid clicks open and slides back to reveal it's soft blue brain. A second generation cybrain matrix, a non-newtonian nanogel cortex with solid-state floating chips and processing units. The nanogel substrate functions as the perfect hybrid of motherboard and operating system, instantly linking components and mediating functionality and compatibility. Weird how you just knew that... Well, more like it's weird how you don't really know what you know right now... The brain is still aglow, pulsating rhythmically. One of the chips, however, appears to be burnt out. It looks like a Quantum processor, no wonder this guys tweaking, the AI interface can't run without that. [[Well, That sucks...|cryochamber]] All of the Cryochamber doors that line the corridor are sealed, red emergency lights and Holosigns flashing "Stasis pods compromised" [[Shit, everyone's dead...|access1]]The semi-circular chamber looks out through a five meter thick curved pane of optically treated glastanium. Outside, the void is scattered in points of scintillating brilliance, though you cannot make out a single familiar constellation. A hazy green ball hangs in the distance, the size of a marble. It's definitely a [[planet.|planet]] In the corner, leaning against a stainless steel bench, is a [[skeleton in a space suit.|skel]] A circular portal leads back to the [[access corridor.|access1]]The turbolift appears functional, and you step inside, apprehensively. A pair of buttons are marked [["Operations"|lifterror]] and [["Crew"|lifterror]] respectively. The green planet mystifies you, in the ageless sense of land sighted after a long journey adrift. It is, however, too distant and vague to make much of right now. [[You must determine just how fucked you are right now...|obs1]]Whoever this was, the life they lived, their aspirations and travails, they're little more than dust now. The death mask of their skull lolls to one side, slack jawed, white teeth like piano keys. They weren't wearing a helmet, perhaps they came here to die, gazing upon the celestial vista. There appears to be a [[name-tag|skelname]] on the suit, the writing occluded by the accumulation of dust. A gloved hand still grasps what appears to be a [[Blue Keycard.|BlueKey]]You gently blow away some of the dust, which requires leaning in uncomfortably close to the deathly visage of our unfortunate friend here. "Stanislaw Asimov" "Well, Stan, at least you still have your name, It's good to be somebody..." Stan's slack skeletal gaze answers you with chilling irony. [[Yeah, you'd know all about that right now.|skel]] The Keycard is blue plastic with a silver "2" emblazoned on it. You could [[take it|bluekey2]], or you could [[leave the dead in peace|access1]] and get on your way.You push the button, and are immediately admonished by a loud and annoyed Virtual Intelligence interface. "UNAUTHORIZED TURBOLIFT OPERATION!!!LEVEL 2 KEYCARD REQUIRED!!!" "Crap" You don't have a keycard... You consider your options, you could [[retrace your steps|access1]], or perhaps this [[VI|douchevi]] can be reasoned with... VI's can be distinguished from AI's in that they lack actual self-awareness or agency, and are really just smart interfaces that simulate natural communication with a database. [["Actually, I've lost my Keycard. It's really urgent that I reach the Operations Deck!"|douchevi2]]"LEVEL 2 KEYCARD REQUIRED!!!" "But, you see..." "LEVEL 2 KEYCARD REQUIRED!!!" "Fucking activate this lift right NOW!!!!" "LEVEL 2 KEYCARD REQUIRED!!!" [[Oh Fuck this....|access1]]The bony hand in it's dusty rubber gauntlet clutches the Keycard in a a vice-like death-grip, causing you to struggle a bit, your strength still recovering as it is. You clench your teeth and give it a good [[HEAVE|keycard3]]. The Card comes loose, but the sudden jolt causes our bony friend to disentegrate and collapse, bones scattering within the bulky rubber suit and the skull to roll over your lap and across the room shattering against the Glastanium observation wall. [[You freak out accordingly...|keycard4]]Nearly tripping over yourself, you hurry out of the Observation Deck and along the corridor, shuddering to your own fragile-feeling bones. The Keycard has level 2 clearance, this should be useful. Right now you're pretty eager escape all this death, the scattered bones of that Spaceman, the rows of untimely cryochamber mausoleums. [[Thank goodness that Turbolift seems functional.|lift]]The Keycard slots into the control panel. "TURBOLIFT ACCESS AUTHORIZED!!!" , chimes the VI. From here it looks like the only way to go is up, with a choice of two stops: [[CREW DECK|crewdeck]] [[OPERATIONS DECK|opsdeck]]Under construction>> thank you for playing :)Under construction>>>>Thank you for playing :)