#data sentry

[lunex-the-cat]

It took 20 million years but I finally gave this bastard the update he deserves.

[spooky-donut-ghost-house]

My personal headcanon as to why assaultrons only show up in Fallout 4 and Fallout 76 is that they were still very much a prototype robot that House was making and despite it's blaster head was nowhere near as advance as a mark 2 securitron

He used data from the assaultrons and sentry bots to make the mark 2 OS for the securitrons and views all other robots that he made as inferior in comparison to securitrons

He initially made the assaultrons to combat General Atomics' Mr. Gutsy but the reason why assaultrons were never widely used by The US Military is because House became to absorbed with Vegas to get assaultrons used nation wide

[martyr-19]

{"guardian_login": "Martyr-19" [”ghost”: “Prophet”]}

{“id": "0123"}

{"title": "Click-Update"}

{"type": "entrylog" [“attached-images”: “02”]}

{"created": "####-##-##”}

{“updated”: “####-##-##”}

This is Prophet. Seeing as my Guardian has little to no recollection of this time, allow me to share on their behalf.

Our first official fireteam was a group of six, formed one year after being established within the Tower. Yes, it is a big group, and yes, it has everything to do with inexperience. Each of them were risen around the same time, that time being roughly a day or so after the Traveler was reawakened during the Red War. This was a very dangerous and challenging time for Veterans, let alone New Lights.

This fireteam consisted of:

- One Hunter

- Two Warlocks

- And three Titans

Our continued experience and cooperation together lasted 2 years, 3 months, and 17 days. Separation, according to data of my own and official records, was due to conflicting ideals that sparked frequent disagreements and compromised missions. This is assumed to be a result of losing fireteam members Keiran and Lillian. A direct order from Commander Zavala, the Titan Vanguard, saw to the remaining fireteam's disbandment and redistribution.

I have pulled the briefings of their public files>

————

BEV

{“guardian": "Bev"}

{“ghost": "Dogma"}

{“status”}} > active

{“stationed”}} > “Neomuna, Neptune”

> [hunter, human]

————

VUASS-#

{“guardian": "Vuass-4"}

{“ghost": "Aimee"}

{“status”}} > active

{“stationed”}} > “Eliksni Quarter, Botza District, Earth”

> [titan, exo]

————

KEIREN

{“guardian": "Keiren"}

{“ghost": "Chance"}

{“status”}} > deceased

{“stationed”}} > {“body-recovery”}} > [impossible] > {“ghost-recovery”}} > [impossible]

> [titan, human]

————

SENTRY-#

{“guardian": "Sentry-3"}

{“ghost": "Flint"}

{“status”}} > active

{“stationed”}} > “European Dead Zone, Earth”

> [titan, exo]

————

LILLIAN

{“guardian": "Lillian"}

{“ghost": "Casper"}

{“status”}} > deceased

{“stationed”}} > {“body-recovery”}} > [recovered] > {“ghost-recovery”}} > [located]

> [warlock, awoken]

————

I am currently in the process of further pulling files.

Prophet

[autisticlancemcclain]

prev chapter

– – –

The hole doesn’t go away in the pod. 

It was stupid to think that it would. They all watched him die. All of them. They watched his eyes go dull. They watched him collapse to the ground. He swayed, for a moment. Like his body wasn’t quite ready to fall, ready to give up, even as his brain was fried to death. 

He fell forward, in the end. Even though he was against a wall. He tipped right forward, nose smashing to the ground, like he was suddenly top heavy. None of them were fast enough to catch him. None of them were fast enough to even move, not for several moments, not for so long that they would have been killed, too, if their helmets had been cracked like Lance’s.

The worst part was that he laid there. For who knows how long. Just – by himself, on the ground, arms tucked close to his chest, face to the floor. Like he does when he’s really frustrated with something and needs to feel the weight of his body crushing him a little. Sometimes when he’s really frustrated he does that in front of Keith. He stomps to Keith’s room and flops right on Keith’s bed, careless of how many times he bumps into Keith on the way down, shoves his face in Keith’s pillow and tucks his arms under him. That’s how Keith knows he does it, the arm thing. Because he trusts Keith enough to feel frustrated around him.

It made Keith really guilty. Here he was, fighting off a hoard of Galran soldiers with burning eyes, as Lance lay frustrated behind him. Injured, too. That wasn’t fair. Keith was supposed to be helping. He was supposed to be quietly running his hand over Lance’s back until Lance settled enough to talk. That was his job. He needed to do his job. 

“Room’s thinning out,” Shiro had said quietly. “Keep it up and we’ll be done with this in twenty, okay, guys?”

There was no answer. Not even a twitch of acknowledgement. No one spoke up or grunted or nodded or nothing. Nothing until the final soldier was killed, slashed to pieces by Keith’s blade. Nothing for several moments after, even, as all of them stood still and listless and thoughtless. 

“We must go now,” Allura had announced, finally breaking the silence. “Home. Castle. We must.”

Her words seemed to snap the rest of them into action, each of them stepping over the carnage they made, with half-aborted movements, hesitant and confused. 

“We need the data,” Pidge mumbled. “That we came here for. Before we blow the place.”

Hunk had made a noise. Keith still doesn’t quite know how to describe it. It was gravelly, almost. Scraped raw. Not quite pained, though. Not then. Like a thought had travelled down from his brain to be shared to the group but had shriveled up and died in his throat. Like he wasn’t sure of anything, anymore. 

“I’ll wait with Lance,” Hunk had said softly. “He got hurt. He shouldn’t – he doesn’t like being alone. Not when he’s hurt.”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Keith’s throat, and it took every ounce of strength he had to fight it off, to shove it down somewhere dark and stupid inside him. “Not ever.” 

Keith stumbled over the severed leg of a sentry, on his way to Lance. The sting of his palms smacking on the metal ground zapped right up his arms, making his elbows shake. He struggled to get back to his feet. He thinks he kicked a few more scattered limbs on his way up. He’s not sure. He knows the sound of it rattled around in his brain. 

He and Hunk reached Lance at the same time. The rest of the team had already filed out by then, or at least Keith hadn’t noticed them in the room anymore. Not that he really noticed anything, at that point. At that point, all he was worried about were his hands, gently around Lance’s left arm, hauling him up with Hunk’s help to lean on the wall. Keith and Hunk sat pressed closely to either side of him, propping him upright.

“It’ll be okay, Lance,” Hunk had said quietly. “I’ll carry you back to the castle. And then a couple hours in the healing pod and you’ll be up in no time.”

It’s been six hours, now. None of them have done anything but stand, tired and banged up and exhausted, staring blankly ahead of them. Keith keeps cycling the day over and over in his brain. Somehow, the look on Lance’s face, seconds after the blast burns through his forehead, changes every time. The first time Keith was sure it was fear. Then surprise. Then pain, then exhaustion, then blank nothingness. 

Then, worst of all, accusation. The worst one of them all was the image in Keith’s brain of Lance’s dark brown eyes, sour in their pain, looking at Keith in some kind of betrayal. 

You can’t save me, those eyes said. I looked to you in my last moments and I was scared and I was hurt and I was vulnerable and I wanted to rely on you like you relied on me for months and months and months and you let me die. You killed me. I will never be alive again and it is because you failed me.

Keith has fallen in those spirals before. Lance likes to say that Keith is obsessed with making himself feel guilty before anyone else has the chance to. He’s right, of course. Lance is bossy and sarcastic and incendiary, but he’s right, a lot.

“Children,” Coran says, quiet and sad and wary. “The pods are –” he stops for a minute, choked. “The pods are not machines of miracle.”

“Don’t,” Pidge begs. There are tear tracks dried on her cheeks. “Please. He just needs a couple more hours.”

Coran slumps forward. Keith has never seen him slump, before. He’s always stood tall, heels clicked together. He has stood tall in front of Galran fleets that stretched farther than the eye could see. He has stood tall as the team failed again and again. He has stood tall as his entire planet burned to ashes and he was one of two people to be left to rise among them. 

But now he loses his strength. Standing in front of Lance’s dead fucking body and the dead fucking team he loses his strength. 

“He’s gone,” Keith chokes out, and he can’t hold himself up anymore. His knees buckle and hit the ground, hard, and it hurts but he can barely feel it. 

No one says anything else. No one has to. They stand in front of Lance’s corpse until none of them can anymore, and then they turn, one by one, and go to bed.

– – –

next chapter

[aealrizen]

It was hard for Whip to watch the teen girl run from them, eventually getting lost between the buildings at the edge of the rice fields. He could track her. It would be easy to do so. Just switch his vision to x-ray and heat sensitive, and modify his hearing. He could easily catch her and bring her back to ask her questions.

But he wouldn’t. Midas seemed to think it would just make things worse, and had opted to let her go. So Whip would follow that decision, even if he didn’t quite understand it. Midas had been so ready to abandon the retrieval of the tokomov reactor in favor of following a lead once before. Yet perhaps it was because the lead was a person this time that he chose to respect their free will to leave.

Or maybe it was just because Midas already had too much information flooding his mind to handle, and didn’t want any more until later. It took several minutes of him just resting his forehead against Ian’s chest, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to filter through the torrent of pseudo memories that had been pulled to the front of his mind. Getting them categorized again and tucked away in their proper places. By the time Midas pulled back, eyes blinking, Whip had given up on being a sentry and had taken to fishing Midas’ and Ian’s shoes out of the water, dumping a small carp back into the pond when he turned one over.

“...Are you alright?” Ian asked softly, keeping his hands on Midas’ shoulders as he started looking around slightly. The question prompted Midas to look up instead of at the water, and he still had a slight squint.

“Yeah,” Midas assured, giving a small nod and blinking a few times before relenting and putting his hand back to his temple. “Just a headache,” he explained as support to his claim. “...Sometimes… I guess it’s like a box gets tipped over in my head. I have all these memories, but they don’t really feel like memories to me. Not like Whip’s memories did to him. And they sometimes contradict each other. Like telling me that a person is my sister, but also my aunt or something. And this time it just… happened all at once.”

The explanation was somewhat confusing at first, but the more Midas described what happened the more Ian was able to make a connection. “...The migraines you used to get,” Ian noted after nodding slowly in sudden realization. “When we first picked you up. Those were caused by the same thing?”

It took Midas a second to realize what Ian was talking about, but he was quick to remember the first half a year he’d been with the Sector 1109 people. He’d been snappy, and reclusive, and sometimes found curled up in the darkest corner he could find with his eyes closed and head covered by his arms. “Yeah. It happened a lot more often after I first woke up. But eventually I was able to categorize things? Kind of lock them away as data in the background instead of active memories,” he confirmed with a nod, rubbing his temple slightly.

“So that girl… made some of the data resurface?” Whip asked, semi satiating his own curiosity by bringing Midas’ attention back to the girl they’d bumped into, and using similar vocabulary as him.

Midas went quiet for a stretch, turning to look where the girl had run. Was that someone else looking at them? He didn’t recognize them, but they had a similar wide hat. Maybe they were just another worker that was wondering what all the commotion was about. Maybe they should leave before they caused anymore trouble. “...Meri…. I think her name is Meri, but I’m not completely sure. She’s… older than I have in my head. But there’s a lot of images of a little girl that looks a lot like her. W-... She-... Something about a stuffed bear. She always had it with her. But now she doesn’t.”

He was raising his hands to his head again, eyes pressing closed as trying to think too much caused the headache to get worse. It wasn’t something that Ian thought would be an easy solution, and he didn’t want Midas to end up feeling sick if the headache did devolve into a migraine. So he rose his hand again to rest on Midas’ back to start directing him away from the rice fields. “C’mon. Let’s go find some shade to sit under and take a break. We need our shoes to dry off too,” he prompted, gently guiding them towards the nearest set of trees he could see. They were a short ways from the edge of the rice fields, amidst a field of wildflowers and grass. Midas seemed to be affected by the sunlight a little more than usual, so Ian figured the shade would help.

“...You dropped your shoes in the water?” Midas asked, a mild teasing snicker in his voice as he followed Ian’s direction and sluggishly made his way out of the water canals.

“It was either that or watch you face plant in the water,” Ian countered, expressing what his thoughts had been at the moment. He’d honestly been worried Midas would get dizzy enough to lose his balance, or possibly completely pass out with the way he’d suddenly reacted.

Midas gave a snort of amusement that suddenly went quiet as Ian’s words sank in. So he cared more about him than the shoes possibly getting ruined by fish water? That was… nice to know. It caused a faint smile to pull at Midas’ mouth.

With the size of the rice fields it took them more than twenty minutes to reach the edge of them. And the walk was slowed even more for a moment as Midas and Ian both gingerly hobbled across the pebble strewn dirt pathway that prevented the meadow from invading the crop fields. Once they were back in the grass it was easier though, and Midas let the grass brush against his fingertips as the wind created waves in the foliage and tugged his hair. It smelled different from the rice fields. A faintly sweet scent that was calming along with the breeze. The smell of plants never faded. But the scent of flowers was different from the water, and the peaceful scenery helped his mind start to settle again. A slight rustle of grass and tree leaves caused him to close his eyes, his steps slowing slightly as he simply enjoyed the environment. It felt familiar. A bittersweet peace that was broken by the faint call of someone in the distance.

“Midas?”

That was his name, but not Whip or Ian who said it. A voice in the semi distance that caused Midas’ heart to skip a beat even as his throat closed slightly. Whip and Ian definitely heard it as well, their forms quickly shifting to face the source of the questioning shout and Whip’s hand subconsciously resting on the hilt of his sword.

And yet, once again, Midas raised a hand to still them for reasons he couldn’t explain, his body feeling suddenly weighed down as he also turned to the source of the shout. There was a man running towards them. A white swallow tail lab coat denoting his profession in medicine and biology. A symbol of status that was starkly contrasted by the presence of house slippers on his feet. But what caught Whip and Ian’s attention the most was the man’s features.

“MIDAS!”

A red haired man, the same shade as Midas’ own hair, was sprinting towards them, feet stumbling on the uneven ground. He barely slowed when he reached the three, keeping from knocking Midas over completely as he threw his arm around the lad in a smothering embrace. Yet Ian noticed the hold held a sense of fragile tenderness to it, as though the man were afraid he might hurt Midas by something as simple as a hug that was too rough. And while Ian and Whip were raising brows in confusion, Midas had frozen stiff in barely comprehending shock. Seeing the man’s face briefly before he’d hugged him had been like looking in a mirror; one that showed a few decades in the future with added glasses. And yet Midas found it was increasingly more difficult to breathe at no fault of the man’s tender yet all encompassing hold. His foreign yet eerily familiar voice quieted into sobbed words Midas couldn’t remember being stored in his mind prior to now.

“T’thank heavens! You’re alive-...”

The man was both laughing and sobbing as he spoke, pulling back only to cup both hands on Midas cheeks and look at him through his tears. Midas could feel the man’s whole frame shaking, both from exertion from running and from emotion. Tears saturated his cheeks even as they were squished by an overjoyed smile.

“My little Midas…”

The simple phrase caused Midas to feel like he was choking on his own esophagus, his frame unconsciously leaning forward slightly. And yet his expression was only a blank stare in lack of understanding. The vague answers to the misty cloud of questions in his mind beating against a wall that prevented them from being known by his conscious memory. He felt petrified. Unable to think of how to respond to what was happening since no coherent thought was able to present itself. Just a blank haze of emptiness only filled by a question and a statement.

Who are you?

I know you.

He was unable to even attempt to trigger any potential memories though. An attempt to further study the man’s face was continually thwarted as the man leaned forward to kiss his forehead, then hug him again, then kiss his temple then cheek. He was very affectionate, and half of Midas found it very odd. But what was more odd was that even though Midas couldn’t place a single memory of this man, the gestures of care still felt like they belonged. Like they’d happened before.

Who was this person? 

Midas didn’t know. But he also couldn’t bring himself to ask because it felt so wrong to even consider doing so. As though the mere words would break this man’s spirit irreparably. Which only reinforced Midas’ thoughts that he should know this man, but didn’t.

His thoughts were inevitably distracted by realizing his own cheeks were damp. A shaking hand raising to his face as he was once again pulled into a tight hug made Midas realize it was because of his own tears. His body was crying despite having no prompting from his mind. Fresh, fat tears spilling from openly staring eyes and fingers shaking as the man’s frame shuddered with choked but elated sobs. It was a longer hug this time, and Midas’ nose was pressed against the man’s shoulder as the man’s hand moved to rest on the back of his head. The scent of the man’s figure inevitably became a smothering blanket to block out the rest of the ambience around Midas. A smell that made Midas’ chest ache from the comfort and heartache it brought. A familiarity that his heart knew but his mind didn’t. As though the words had been stolen from his memories but not the emotions.

Midas let out a confused, choked sob as he gave up on his mind and allowed himself to react completely on his emotions this time. Raising his shaking hands to return the hug and hesitantly gripping the white fabric of the coat, Midas hid his face into the man’s shoulder and let out a choked yet soft mixture between a laugh and a sob.

As Midas became lost in the whirlwind of complete lack of coherent thought smothered by overwhelming emotions, Whip ended up distracted by another approaching figure. One that was familiar to him. It was a shock to see her there, but after the initial surprise faded Whip gave her a wry smile. “So this is where you were hiding, Crystal,” Whip greeted, finding his anxiousness strangely calmed by the sight of one who had helped him so many times in the past.

“Yep. It’s ironically the last place people think to look,” Crystal responded, nodding her head in her own greeting while her hands remained loosely tucked in empty pockets. She decided against catching up with Whip though, putting that conversation aside for later and instead turning her gaze to Midas as he peeked his eyes over the shoulder he was buried in.

“Hey babe. It’s good to see you again,” Crystal greeted, her voice softening and expression growing slightly sorrowful as Midas’ own expression lacked recognition. “You can’t remember anything, can you?” she asked, gaining a slight smile when Midas looked faintly panicked at her pointing out what he’d subconsciously thought about trying to hide. “It’s okay. We had a hunch. I’m just surprised you ended up with these two,” Crystal consoled, turning her gaze back to Whip and Ian. “It’s funny, because I almost tried to contact you for a rescue mission a while ago. For the same kid.”

By now Whip was used to Crystal not starting from the beginning when talking about events, and he could only shake his head with a wry smile. “You gonna get around to telling us who this guy is? Or are we going to have to play guessing games instead of bodyguards like you initially wanted?” he asked, shifting his hand that had never left the hilt of his sword to let Crystal know he was uneasy with this stranger smothering his friend.

Luckily for both of them, the man realized the pieces of the situation he’d initially glossed over and gave a sheepish cough while reluctantly straightening slightly. “Sorry,” he apologized quickly, raising a hand to rub his eye under his glasses but still remaining reluctant to fully let Midas go. “I was… overwhelmed. Thank you, so much, for taking care of Midas and bringing him back.” For a moment he bowed his head low in gratitude, shifting Midas to the side before rising again and wrapping Midas close to his side this time. “I’m Hesopher Clandel. Midas’ father.”

____________________________

First

____________________________

Extra long post again because I wanted 2 pics for this one but I didn't want to spoil by having that 2nd pic on the top of a post X'D

I finally reached the scene that motivated me writing this entire story |D It feel so strange to reach that goal, but I can officially say that Midas' daddo is still alive and well, and full of hugs and kisses.

[bellygunnr]

Cold Hands

A KR08 piece. I forget which episode this is meant to tag, but it's just also trying to get into KITT3's head.

The command center, for once, is empty. Or as empty as it can be, with security protocol dictating that at least one member be occupying it at all times, especially in the dead of night. Tonight, it is Mike Knight as the lone sentry. A curious development-- a deviation, even, in his behavior. Perhaps Mr. Graiman's absence is an influence?

You ache to know. Silently, you switch on your scanner lights, upping the output until the stretch of the stone bunker you're facing is crimson. Mike's heart rate increases immediately. His breath, once even, hitches, and he turns to face you.

"I thought you were asleep," Mike says. "What's up?"

He abandons his post by pushing out of the chair and coming to stand by your fender. His left hand ghosts across your roof line, but the rest of him is held at arm's length. He looks strange, stretched out like that, like he's nervous to get close.

You consider drawing him in with humor. But the hour is late and he may be exhausted enough to grant you some mercy with your prying.

"You do not usually take the night shift," you say. "Particularly after arduous missions like today."

Mike tilts his head back. This is what he does, you know, when he is posed with a fact he wasn't expecting to confront.

"I just knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, KITT. I got a lot of guns pointed at me today."

Indeed.

You do not know how to compute that. He always has guns pointed at him. Up until this moment, you hadn’t considered it disturbed him.

"So you would have trouble sleeping," you surmise.

He smiles, head still tipped back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. His boots shuffle across the ground, bringing him closer to your chassis, which you start warming to the touch. The nanites are one of the few things that listen to you and you alone.

“Yeah. Yeah, but who doesn’t in this line of work?”

You briefly run the numbers. Not because his rhetorical question forces you to, but because you are curious. You only have organic data on the Graimans, Mike, and the few operatives blessed to have joined You previously. Sarah rarely sleeps soundly. Statistically, disturbed sleep is apparently common in “this line of work.”

Fascinating.

It is so utterly out of your control.

Yet you ache to be of assistance. You crunch ever more numbers and find yourself wanting. Mike leans more heavily against your body, until his torso is flat against your door, arms folded over your roof. He is warm. Perhaps he finds you warm, as well.

“You should rest here. I have been told my seats are quite comfortable.”

They should be, anyway. You can manipulate their form at will.

Mike laughs a little. It echoes. You capture the sound.

“Won’t I get in trouble for sleepin’ on the job, KITT? I thought you didn’t like it when I slacked off.”

You do not like it. His inability to focus on the job left you taskless and bored at the best of times. But just a month ago, he’d flatlined in your care, and just eight hours ago, he’d almost left you again. Conclusion: concessions must be made. Humans operate poorly when their needs are not met.

You open the driver’s door. Mike laughs again, hearing it, and strides around your hood. His hand drags lightly across your scanner cowling, sending reams of data through your processor. All of him leaves flashpoints of color across your matrix as he caves in to your plea and settles into the driver’s seat. 

Several unformed ideas and thoughts skim your brain. You dismiss them harshly.

“Good night, Mike,” you murmur into the sound system.

He mumbles something in acknowledgement, but he’s asleep the moment his head drops back against the seat.

[microcosme11]

Organization of Napoleon's households

With my bad knowledge of French, I'm reading this. For data hounds out there, you will love this book so much. It includes lists of personnel, amounts of stuff purchased, what food they ate, how many candles, all the sentries, security, etc. I'm skipping a lot of the statistics.

Poor Duroc had a job that was as enormous as Berthier's. There was also Daru, completely overwhelmed with organization. These people deserved any honors they got but even that wouldn't compensate for the stress!

Later--it gets even better with all of the etiquette, the chamberlains, pages, aide-de-camps, etc., who kept people away from Napoleon.

[petrenocka]

Thanks to violence machene terminal data entries we now know that there are so called eras to the final war.

We know of the first, "Gutterman" era, when machines were fighting along side humans in trenches. The next, Guttertank, era, when machines were fighting machines still on the ground. Then an unknown ammount of other eras later - Earthmover, the last one, an era of city sized machines firing rail system sized rail guns at each other across the horizon and smaller, mobile machines made to take down and protect the big boys from up close, sice due to shield generators they couldn't hurt each other.

So like, what about the machines we knew before Violence?

We know that by the time V series finished development the war has already ended, so who were the mobile guys who actually get to see combat (as intended)?

Hurricane-like swarms of drones and pre-mod future swordsmachines doing their best Attack on Titan impressions are solid contenders. My bet is mindflayers though.

They are super mobile, capable of flying and teleporting/dashing. Smart, creative even, so much so they develop a gender identity. They are the only machines, so far, described by the terminals as "rare". And they also are the only machines using lasers and homing projectiles, seen elsewhere only on the defense systems of Earthmovers, implying those are rather high tech.

(btw, mindflayer terminal data and mannequins imply that the blue orbs are Hell energy, which mindflayers "adapted to" and "mastered", which in turn opens some qestions about the engineering of Earthmovers, considering I'm pretty sure Hell expeditions started after The War.)

Other then that, sentries seem pretty advances to me, with their incredible platng and sleek design. They might have been a part of trench warfare, but what were they designed as a response to? You don't really need state of the art aiming system to hit a guttertank. Neither do you need that much range to deal with streetcleaners. Especially when your main weakness is barriers that break your line of sight.

No, to me it seems like sentries were build to hit something highly mobile, but incapable of finding cover. And the digging in feature meant to resist being punched out of your sniper den. Something flying perhaps, with an annoying melee attack. Hmmmmm. (mindflayers, sentries counter mindflayers)

[copperdaisy]

Did I ever ramble about my TRON OCs? I probably have in the past but heck, I am in a rambling mood so here we go again. Going with the most developed one because the references for the others are on my external HD and I don't feel like digging it out right now.

This is Drive, a soft spoken, Bit loving System Utility who drew the short end of several sticks in life but somehow managed to survive despite it. For a given value of 'survive'.

(It's okay, he gets better. He just gets roughed up first. A lot. Thanks for everything, Flynn.)

Drive is a System Utility written by Kevin Flynn somewhere towards the middle of the Golden Age of the Grid. He is part of the Database Management suite that specializes in defragging and organizing data sets. In the Good Times™ he was a jovial, upbeat program that was not terribly concerned about the political side of things. His friend circle was comprised of both Basics and ISOs (mostly Arjians; he rarely encountered Bostromites) and his opinions on Flynn could best be summed up with the '¯\_(ツ)_/¯' emoji. The End of Line was a regular haunt of his, where he befriended the mp3 DJs and had a reputation for being a terrible dancer. Life was good. But, you know what they say about good things...

Drive almost met his end when Arjia was destroyed. He had been working on a remote data terminal near the city and got swept up in the invasion. Cornered by a pair of Sentries who questioned what his business in the area was and where his loyalties lay, he was unable to answer to their satisfaction. They left him alive but horrifically scarred both physically and mentally. He was able to escape the destruction of the city, barely. Things would not improve much in the cycles that followed.

In time, rumors would being to circulate among certain circles that there was a weak link in the Database Management suite - what remained of it. You see, in Flynn's faltering attempts to balance the Grid and his responsibilities on the other side of the screen, he had rushed his coding. Drive had been written with a faulty directive re: information sharing permissions, and without self defense protocols. This meant that any information Drive processed in his work on the various databases was in danger of being shared if he was asked or told to do so, as there were no limits set in the permissions. His lack of fighting ability (or even the option to access his disc or light batons as weapons) made him a sitting duck. This vulnerability was taken advantage of by players on both sides throughout the cycles. The once gregarious program became an anxious wreck, plagued by the pain of new wounds and old.

Desperate to overcome a directive he had no hopes of defeating, he began to butcher his memory files. He couldn't give up the info if he didn't remember it, right? While this did stem some of the problem, this drastic action caused a multitude more. As time wore on his coding became more and more damaged. Drive began to suffer from glitches. Small ones at first, then more severe ones that left him dazed and confused, not unlike a program who was not properly synced to their disc. By the time Sam Flynn entered the Grid, Drive - who had somehow managed to survive to that point - was on the cusp of either turning into a Virus or literally falling apart from the mounting instability lurking in his code.

His fate at the end of Legacy, as well as that of the Grid in general, is up in the air. In the RP group I played him in years ago he overcame a lot of his trauma - and gained a few more. He learned how to trust others again. He had his chest crushed by Rinzler while trying to prevent him from breaking into the Archives. He made new friends and was reunited with old. He nearly derezzed when his code started to experience cascading failures due to the damages. He was found and rescued in time to save his life. He fell in love. He eventually let a User completely repair his coding and rewrite his faulty directive. He learned to live again and how to be happy.

Here are a few more miscellaneous facts about him.

Drive has three Bits: regular Bit Alpha, NAVI Bit Beta, and an adopted NAVI named Gamma that he found hiding in a data terminal.

Gamma was Anon's NAVI and took shelter in said terminal after its owner's demise. While Gamma never bonded to Drive's code like the other two it still obeyed him... more or less.

Drive once dated an ISO named Katina. Their split was amicable when they decided they made better friends than lovers. Katina was killed when Arjia was destroyed.

The program Drive found love with in the RP group was a rerezzed Anon. They were friends for a long while before their relationship turned romantic. It was Anon who found Drive suffering the near fatal glitch that gave away his until then hidden condition. Much earlier on in their relationship Drive had helped Anon, who was injured after a run-in with a Virus.

Parkour is one of Drive's hidden strengths. Following his recovery he sometimes helped train new Security programs by leading them in a 'wild Bit chase' race.

Speaking of wild Bits, Drive has a habit of setting out energy dishes for the wild Bit flocks on his balcony. As such, he has many Bit friends besides the two and a half that are his.

His theme song (one of them) is Iridescent by Linkin Park

Drive has several siblings who also suffer from various effects resulting from Flynn's distracted coding sessions. Might ramble about them later.

Every Siren he has ever interacted with has called him some variation of 'adorable'. He's still not sure what to think about that.

In the Good Times™ there was more than one instance of him winding up in a platonic sleepy puppy pile with the End of Line DJs after their shifts. He also spent some time hanging out with them in their booth on occasion. Watching them craft their music was fascinating to him.

[jeellyjams]

HLTAU - Gordon, Barney, and Alyx

Gordon

-Pre-Cascade-

Designation: Gordon_FR_111998

Function: Network Manager

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Disc Sequencer

Description: The newest Network Manager in the Black Mesa System. Gordon is quiet, but not unfriendly, and he does his job well. He likes to spend his rest cycles with his small group of friends or at the system archives, reading the data files that the Users submit.

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: G//RD#&F%1/1/98

Function: [CORRUPTED] - ENFORCER

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Disc Sequencer, Claws

Description: Gordon is the Enforcer of the Combine, more specifically of SysAdmin Breen himself. The Cascade virus is quarantined, but still active in some of his subroutines. He has little, if any recollection of his previous function. Breen changed him. He is far faster and stronger than he should be. Do not engage.

Barney

-Pre-Cascade-

Designation: BARNEY_CL_111999

Function: Low-permissions ICP (Intrusion Containment Protocol)

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, Suffusion Rod

Description: Barney is a fairly laid-back monitor. He'll do his job of course, but you can't blame him for wanting to kick back while there's nothing to worry about. Honestly, why do they need so many monitors around here anyways? It's not like anything ever happens.

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: BARNEY_CL_111999

Function: Combine Heavy Sentry Unit [undercover]

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, Rod Staff

Description: Barney is good enough at his job to lay low. Despite his frequently dim circuits, he sends as many free programs out of the city as he can. He tries to keep his friends out of the Combine's eyes. He knows what they would do if they found them.

Alyx

-Pre-Cascade-

N/A

-Post-Cascade-

Designation: ALYX.mch

Function: Mechanic, Packet Tracer [self-described]

Weapon Modules: Disc Primitive, Rod Primitive, LOL Rod

Description: Alyx was compiled after the virus and the Reformat. A talented mechanic, she regularly comes up with modifications for Resistance weapons, and has even begun engineering her own virus to disable their scripts. She hijacks Combine data packets in order to get intel for the Resistance. On her off-cycles, she spends time with Barney, and often asks what the system was like before the Cascade.

[lunex-the-cat]

Kiko 3A?

Ooo scary look~ Wonder who earned that

[silyabeeodess]

FusionFall Headcanons: Nano Non-combative Roles

While most nanos stay with their own IE Donors, only around three nanos are actively on one team at any given time, as per recommendation of the Nano Project. However, there are ways for nanos to spend their time assisting in the war effort other than fighting or training.

In general, all nanos may help with the Nano Project itself. Regular checkups already give the scientists behind the project a steady stream of long-term data to work with. Older nanos given boosts to their power/abilities may see lab time or surveillanced practice in the field so that they train them in a controlled environment. Depending on the nano, they may also be used as mini mentors to assist others with more backward, disagreeable, or easily-frightened personalities. This practice isn't done so much to better prepare nanos as fighters as it is a means of encouraging positive relationships between new nanos and IE Donors via example. For instance, Courage nanos may be able to convince each other to act more bravely, learning how to lean on their IE Donors and know when their IE Donors will need to lean on them.

The extent of a nano's antidote ability is always being tested. They are easily capable of defending their IE Donors from the toxic effects of fusion matter. When they aren't running this defense, they may also be in charge of purging fusion matter from supplies or small areas--granted it is very hard to nearly impossible for them to directly affect the land itself, especially where the infection is already pretty bad. (In fact, they don't really cover much ground at all and can often risk pushing themselves too much in the attempt. The reason for this difficulty is due to the much wider range of the land as a target.) There was a strong need for this in the Future, with the amount of food and clean water available shrinking and little uncontaminated earth to grow more from.

Nanos with the radar ability are often put on sentry duty. This ability allows them to track large movements of fusion monsters in the event the latter conduct coordinated attacks to different areas. They may also be added to supply teams, along with nanos with the guard ability.

Nanos capable of increasing the speed or jump height to large amounts of people at once may assist in community evacuations. This increases the overall survival rate in an area, hurrying along and rescuing potential stragglers while soldiers focus their attention on defeating the monsters in-chase instead. Nanos with the sneak or recall abilities may also be included for this sort of job, but this is more often the case in dire situations where civilians have been closed-off by Fuse's army and/or are in need of rescue.

Speaking of rescuing, Treasure Finders can do more than just locate Coco's eggs to add to our stash. If groups such as supply teams go missing, Treasure Finders may be able to track down their location based on whatever they're carrying. Every now and then, Mac and other soldiers have needed help tracking down Coco herself this way.

On the rarer side, nanos with the revive ability--particularly those capable of handling lost souls like Grim's and Demongo's--might be in-charge of finding missing soldiers found/believed to be dead that did not respawn at a Resurrect 'Em. These nanos may be familiar with the Underworld, in case a soul went where it wasn't supposed to yet, or have the dangerous job of investigating soul stealers. Many of these nanos were sent out during the missing heroes incident.

Any nano with a health ability has the potential to join medic teams. However, nanos capable of making/manifesting food, such as Eddy (jawbreakers), Eduardo (fries), Rigby (java jolt), Cheese (candy), Chowder (blormed milk) and Grim (heebie jeebie juice) may be added to cooking duty. If they're too destructive to be trusted in the kitchen, their ability may instead be used to create imaginary foods as simple medicines that could deter fusion matter along with other varying effects. This was another valuable asset in the Future.

[vivid-endlessskies]

{A nimble yet sturdy slugcat aproaches, lichen green pearl in hand}

=There Will Come Soft Rains, Endless Skies= "My gratitude cannot be expressed enough for what you have done for me, I appreciate the data you have given. If you ever need anything of me I will do my best to comply, however, I am very busy and cannot assure a speedy response." - Many Thanks, TWCSR

A Slugcat?..

You must be Rains’ Messenger— Thank you for delivering this pearl.

Now I hope Competitor made it there safe…

Need to record this for Rains..

[ No problem, Rains.

Your Sentry made it safely Ill assure you. ]

[ I don’t think I need anything as of sending back this pearl. ]

[ But when I do need anything from you. I’ll let you know right away. ]

[martyr-19]

{"guardian_login": "Martyr-19" [”ghost”: “Prophet”]}

{“id": "0402"}

{"title": "Bio:SENTRY-#"}

{"type": "bioshare"}

{"created": "####-##-##”}

{“updated”: “####-##-##”}

3/6

Snippets of Sentry-3’s Guardian profile—

SENTRY-#

{“guardian": "Sentry-3"}

{“ghost": "Flint"}

{“status”}} > active

{“stationed”}} > “European Dead Zone, Earth”

> [titan, exo]

First Vanguard Note>>

[####-##-##] > Z “Has shown an exceptional talent for void Light manipulation. Her skill and discipline is beyond what I would expect from a New Light, I will be keeping a close eye on her progress."

Latest Vanguard Note>>

[####-##-##] > Z “Has reported continued House of Dusk activity in the northeastern EDZ. I need a full report on her activities and patrols in that region as soon as possible.”

-

-

Fireteam {1} Insight>>

[####-##- ##-] {“year 1”}

{B}} Commander Zavala’s favourite. 5/10

{V1}} Tactically amazing! Knows just how to play to everyones strengths and cover their weaknesses!

{L}} Might be stronger than Vuass! Fast, powerful, knows what she’s doing! (Favourite flowers are alyssums <3)

{K}} Can be a bit much. She’s loud and will absolutely make her opinion known. In her defense, she’s usually right.

{M8}} Autocratic.

Fireteam {1} Insight>>

[####-##- ##-] {“year 2”}} “last recorded”

{B}} I miss them too, y’know.

{V1}} I wish you the best. I hope you heal. This cannot go on, Sentry. You cannot go on like this.

{L}} [No Comment Available]

{K}} [No Comment Available]

{M8}} You can’t treat people this way forever.

-

-

Latest Guardian Report>>

{OverviewAccess:denied}

{“attached-details”>locked}

-

-

I do not have access to reports beyond those from the initial fireteam tenure. The Guardian has implemented strict privacy measures, and the reasons for this are not mine to speculate upon. Access is restricted to Vanguard leadership and current fireteam members- confirming the presence of a new fireteam.

Cross-referencing data from Vuass-4 and Bev's activity, I can again confirm that she has begun communicating with them.

Vanguard reports provide limited insight into her monitoring activities of the House of Dusk within the European Dead Zone.

I can conclude that privacy is of the utmost importance to her. Given that she has thoroughly locked down her current information, I believe it unwise to share the {15} pages last transmitted between Sentry-3 and Martyr-19 on [####-##-##]. The day of fireteam dissolution.

I will, however, summarize:

>>{Sentry-3[titan, exo]}”summary”

“Do not message me again.”

[laguzmage]

Its kind of the nature of collaboratively written internet horror but it always amuses me how whenever I go on scp I'll read like one or two legitimately really good Entities and then there will be like like 10 that are just

object class Keter

object is contained in a cell in site [DATA EXPUNCGED] in a 10x10 cell with 100 sentry turrets surrounding it, in th e event of object breach immediately detonate all 56 nuclear bombs on site then launch an orbital strike from satellite 2

image of entity:

[itsbenedict]

For May, I’m going to focus in hard on Medallion Works, since I now have a better idea of the necessary scope and what still needs to be done. I probably don’t get it done this month, but my objective is going to be… “get it to the point where it can be used to recreate Chapter 1 of FE9 without manual code changes”. The big thing there is going to be unit AI- I’ve got pathing and target-finding worked out for Sentry mode, but I still need the strategy layer and the execution flow, plus distance-aggro and objective-targeting behaviors.

So... mixed results. Things that work:

Paintover layers for drawing graphics on top of the default tile graphics

Enemy AI, including Sentry, Aggro, and Objective behaviors.

Creating unit and weapon templates and instantiating and editing them in a map

The map took about two hours to put together (including doodling miscellaneous custom graphics and paintovers) using the tool- cutting out the art step, it was just short of an hour. That's pretty good! But not everything is working.

First: bugs. There's a couple that I still have to nail down- one manifests as a crash bug that occurs when an enemy unit is standing on its objective and therefore can't move to it, but hypothetically it should've just done the objective when it landed there initially, and I'm not sure what happened there. Going to just have to recreate the situation with lots of debug prints in for that. There's also a bug with the map editor that causes it to forget what its current filepath is and become unable to save, which is major, but my first couple theories about how it happened didn't pan out, so further testing is needed.

Second: dialogue and scripting. The game's dialogue system works correctly, parsing a custom JSON convo format lifted from Star Seeker, but I wasn't able to get authoring complete before the deadline I set.

I've got the convo format portrait data displaying and some parts editable, but most of the authoring tool for that only half-complete, and I have no custom script actions (like centering on a map unit to indicate who's talking, or adding an item acquisition after the convo) complete yet.

Thirdly- I don't know how I missed this earlier, but I forgot to have the level-up system, uh... actually do the part where your stats increase when it happens. That obviously needs to be in before it's ready, and that's just a complex UI animation task that'll take some time to get looking smooth.

Lastly, there's a smattering of presentational touches and mechanical details that need updating. Maps need to have "gutters", parts of the map that aren't part of the logical gameplay map- the out of bounds area. Without it, scrolling the map behaves oddly and it's less clear when units at the edges of the screen are taking actions (normally conveyed by centering them first). Fences need to display on top of the units behind them. Seizing the objective needs to actually display a map-won screen rather than just printing "you win" in console. Terrain needs to have defensive effects, not just movement cost effects, and weapon weight needs to be accounted for in combat calculations.

I probably could've done all of these things had I not spent almost two full weeks playing Hades 2 and not doing anything else. Oops.