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neuro-slicers · 8 years ago

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NeuroSlicers: Issue 3

Entry

I'm in the shit, Simone.” Isaac said while pushing open the main entrance door to Tesseract HQ.

“Let’s see… whose fault 's that?” The voice of Simone came, as if just from behind him.

Isaac turned around, but there was no one there – Simone was using the brand new sub-cortical neural implant to communicate with him. He was far from used to it. Implants were common technology for the upper class, but the only connection that Isaac had with them was watching the overly grandeur visual feeds televised on every holoboard laid across the city of Nexus.

"Let beauty be in the hand of the beholder, release the beauty from within with our latest synthetic skin tech, as soft and as delicate as the day you were born – stop the aging process" the adverts would say. Issac imagined that in the past, before the great Nano Plague that similar tactics were used to sell high fashion. Brands selling an unattainable lifestyle wrapped up in a moving image that says "Buy", then you'd see the price "just 350,000 credits for your first 4 sessions" - that was more than most people in Nexus City would make in a lifetime. It was opulent and only helped to truly show the divide between the outlandish and often insecure wealthy and the impoverish, those that had little to their name in the city.

“You, of all people, should know that the risk I took was necessary. I couldn’t bare living in the slums for another moment longer.” Isaac replied, while trying to look for any indication of how to navigate the winding pathways that made up the public areas of the building.

Issac had managed to secure himself an interview. An interview for the most powerful corporation in the whole of the City no less; someone or something was looking down on him. He had no idea how he'd managed to land himself this opportunity and he was far from qualified for it.

The truth is, this was his last hope of being able to repay a debt, a debt that he now regret taking on, but in an act of blind foolishness and a desire to find a way out of the slums he decided to borrow credits from a loan shark that happened to be a member of Bit.Crash. Issac had the idea that if he could just get himself a simple Slicer Deck and start getting some contracts he'd be able to make enough to get out of this hell hole. After all, most people of Nexus dreamed of becoming a Slicer, lured by the tales of these infamous hackers.

Things didn't work out exactly as planned...

“You're the one that decided to invest in being a Slicer of all things?” Simone retorted and Isaac could hear the smile in her words.

“Fuck You Simone” Issac said in retaliation.

“Are you serious?” Simone’s voice came from behind again. “ I'm here trying to help you, through no mistake of my own. Yet it seems like I'm babysitting a grown man, who can’t even take care of his own problems. I'm supposed to be at the height of my career, now look what you've got me doing!” She sighed. "I don’t want to argue, I'm here to help, but try to show a bit of gratitude".

"Fine, I'm sorry. Thank you Simone, I do appreciate what your doing for me." Issac said, in a soft tone. He had no desire to exacerbate the situation, and he was truly thankful he had a friend to help him through this.

After a moment, Isaac heard the "clickity click" as Simone typed on the other end of the feed. Her voice came back a few moments later “Here, this should help you out…”

A yellow line appeared a few inches above the ground, leading to one of the side corridors on the ground floor.

“Hell yeah! Augmented Reality, baby!” Simone exclaimed.

“How did you do that?!” Isaac asked in confusion.

“The chip in your brain can make you see things that aren’t really there – like these navigation lines, leading to the interview room for example. You just need to know what to touch.”

“Should I be as disturbed as I feel right now?”

“Oh yeah. Anyone with access to your chip can do some nasty things to you. It just so happens that in this situation, that anyone is me.” Simone sounded pleased with herself.

"Now just to release the access code onto the NeuroNet for all to see....."

"What! Don’t do that!" Isaac said in a panic.

"Just kidding, don’t worry, the connection is secure"

Isaac was already starting to regret giving Simone full access to his neural chip. Unfortunately, if she was to help him get this job, she needed as much freedom as possible.

The lines on the ground led him through the maze of corridors, decorated with almost nothing, but the occasional abstract painting and pretentious quotes one typically sees when walking the halls of big corporations, not that he'd done such a thing in the past. Such delights as “Connecting the world to the future” or “Dreams + Work = Success”, it was all rather Orwellian and sent a shudder down Isaacs spine.

Isaac finally arrived at a white door with no label, handle or indication of what was on the other side. Just as he was about to knock the door opened and a smartly dressed woman almost collided with him on her way out. The first thing Isaac noticed about her were the intricate lines under her skin on the left side of her face, partially covered by her red hair, its like a computer PCB had been used as a stencil for a overly complex tattoo, only this tattoo had the addition of glowing lines and little LED's attached.

“Wow, a Sentry.” Simone’s voice was filled with awe. “These are extremely experienced Slicers that have so much hardware embedded in them, that they can barely be considered human. Most Sentries try to hide what they are, but apparently not this one.” It was known by many that Tesseract had a habit of hiring and nurturing Slicers caught in the act of breaking into their beloved NeuroNet; often training them way beyond the abilities of normal street Slicers or those from the other Corps. They had the budget and the necessity to protect their systems more so than any other, but when you see what their Slicers become at the hand of Tesseract it didn’t seem much better than Xanctuary's cultist tech infused following.

“Do you plan to get out of my way, or is staring at me part of your job description?” The Sentry said and Isaac realized that he was standing in the door frame. He moved aside, not wanting to cause any trouble – after all, first impressions count.

She took off through one of the corridors while shaking her head and murmuring something under her nose.

Isaac took a moment to regain his fleeing confidence and entered the interview room. It was noticeably messier than what he had seen so far from the rest of the building – there were shelves filled with what appeared to be junk hardware. On top of one of the shelves, a strange giant clock was stuck with it's hands showing 13:37. In one corner, multiple boxes were stacked in a heap.

“Oh, crap. Is that…” Simone’s voice.

Isaac looked back as the door slid closed behind him. His eyes focused on the smiling figure behind the only desk in the room and his confidence evaporated, quickly replaced by absolute horror followed by the boiling anger he was so used to for most of his life.

“Welcome Isaac, how’s my boy doing?” said Francis, the one person who Isaac didn’t want to see in that room – his step father.

"Oh, hell no." Isaac almost screamed while trying to keep his shaking body under control. "I'm not going to be part of your games. Not again." He barely managed to keep his voice level from all the emotions that were seething through him.

Turning around, Isaac reached for the door, but there was no handle, and the door didn’t open.

"Isaac, please think about this..." Simone's voice. "If you run away now, you'll be finished – this is your best bet to pay Bit.Crash back." She sounded concerned "I know the things that this man has done to you and your family, but there has to be a way set your differences aside."

"You can't even begin to comprehend the monster that Francis is, Simone." Isaac whispered to try and keep his connection a secret. "There is no future for me where that man is." He continued while resting his hand against the door, mainly to try keep his body under control.

Isaac knew that he couldn't spend much longer with Francis without his anger or fear getting the better of him. Just as he was about to start kicking at the door, the voice of Francis came from the other side of the room.

"Ah, you haven't changed a bit, Isaac – your mother would've been so disappointed..." He said while slowly getting up and walking around the desk "If she wasn't lying in a mass grave somewhere, of course." His voice was filled with glee. Seeing that Isaac had stopped moving, he continued... "I still remember her last words - 'I wish my son had turned out better.'" Francis said in a faux old ladies voice

"Liar!" Isaac shouted and before he knew it he was charging the still smiling Francis with the full intention of ending him right there and then. Unfortunately, Isaac knew even before he started that this act was as futile as were the countless ones he had tried in the past. The fight ended almost as soon as it began – Francis stepped out of the way of the charge almost casually and met Isaac with a knee to the chest, sending him straight to the floor, paralyzed.

"You know what the problem with scum like you and your mother is, Isaac? You can't seem to get it into your thick skulls that the class system exists for a reason – to keep filth like you away from anyone important. And do you know what happens to people who try to bypass the system, Isaac? I HAPPEN TO THEM!" Francis, shouted the last sentence in Isaac's face before delivering a kick in his midriff. Isaac managed to shift slightly and take it on the side, where it would do the least damage – he had learned a thing or two about fighting after many sessions just like this one. The pain still left him out of breath.

Francis grabbed Isaac by his shirt and put him upright so he could speak in his face. "And the thing is, Isaac, the only reason we allow you to pollute our city is to serve us. Our little dogs. Doing all the filthy work that suits their position. YOU... GOT... THAT?!" Francis punctuated each word with slamming Isaac in one of the shelves, rattling everything on them dangerously.

Francis took his hands off Isaac and started to walk to his desk. The beating was bad, but Isaac had taken much worse before. He wasn't done yet.

"Is that right?" Isaac said in a rasping, out-of-breath voice. "I think you've forgotten where you come from, old man." If Isaac knew anything about Francis, it was his absolute hatred toward the lower class and by extension – his family.

"Oh, now you'll have it." Came a whisper from Francis, who turned around and charged at Isaac, but Isaac was already braced for the impact. The two men collided and the shelves behind Isaac shook so violently that the giant clock on the top slid off.

It crashed into Francis's forehead, forcing him to the ground, unmoving.

"He's dead." Was the first thought in Isaac's mind while he tried to recover from the shock of what had just happened. A sudden voice almost made him jump:

"Isaac, are you ok?" Simone asked. "Can you hear me? Damn it, why isn't this thing working!?"

The adrenaline was quickly fleeing his body, but he had to check for himself. Turning the body over, Isaac felt for a pulse. It was there – the son of a bitch was still alive.

"I finally returned the favor. You're going to pay for all those years of torture you bastard." Isaac whispered and grabbed a broken piece of sharp metal, which had broken off the clock. He brought the piece high, aiming at the neck of his step father.

"Isaac! What are you doing?!" Simone screamed. "What's going on with you?! You're not a killer!".

Isaac tried to pay her no mind, but it was getting harder and harder to hold that piece of metal over Francis's throat with most of his adrenaline gone already.

"Please, Isaac, don't do this..." He could hear her voice beginning to tremble. "I thought... no... I still think that you're one of the decent people in this rotting city. Don't let him take that away from you too, damn it!"

Isaac heard a loud bang as Simone must have hit something in frustration of her helplessness.

The words rang too close to the truth however and the piece of metal dropped from Isaac's hand.

Francis had taken too much from him already – his childhood, his home, his family – not his morals though, at least not today.

"Ok..." Isaac's voice was horse and shaky from all the excitement "I'll let the bastard live. Though the injustice of it all sickens me."

"You've made the right decision Isaac..." She sighed with relief.

"I hope so." Issac responded.

"But now, we need to deal with this mess."

Isaac was trying to asses the situation, "Yeah, this looks quite bad, doesn't it?"

"What? The unconscious body of a Tesseract employee with you as the only witness? Maybe they'll think you convinced him to take an impromptu nap." Simone's tone was beginning to get back to normal, which reassured him.

"They won't stop until they get me – one way or another."

"Bet on it."

"I guess it's time for plan B then." Isaac said and started going through Francis's pockets.

"Why am I only now hearing that there is such a plan?"

"Didn't want to bore you with the details... Aha, here we go." And he took out a shining translucent card with a black strip going across it from one of the pockets "Behold our key to success."

"And you're planning to do what exactly?" Simone questioned "I may be smart, but far from mad enough to understand you."

"Well, Bit.Crash want their credits back right?"

"And..."

"What is even more important to Bit.Crash than credits?" Isaac had a grin on his face now.

"Son of a bitch..." She said as it dawned on her "You're going to try and steal private data from the inside. And I'm guessing you'll want my help?"

"Well, you're here already."

"Why am I not surprised?"

Isaac put the card in his pocket and said "We need to neutralize Francis, we don't want him waking up in 5 minutes and sounding the alarm."

"I know what we'll do. Go and look into his eyes." Simone said with excitement.

"What?!"

"Trust me now. Go, open his eyes and stare deeply."

He did as he was told with a reasonable amount of skepticism. At first Isaac saw nothing in Francis's eyes, but then he felt his own eyes starting to warm up. The sensation was not pleasant.

"Closer, get closer to him!" Simone almost shouted, while typing furiously on her keyboard.

Isaac got even closer and the sensation of heat in his eyes intensified.

"Simone, I am not sure that this is a good idea."

"Just give me 5 more seconds.."

The next few seconds were the worst, with his body screaming that something was definitely wrong with his eyes. Suddenly, Francis's body lurched up and came back down again. With that, Isaac's eyes returned to normal.

"What the hell was that, Simone?" Isaac was more than a little bit disturbed and confused with what just happened.

"It's called CUP - Close up Paralysis. It's an old Xanctuary technique I'd been dying to try out." Simone's voice was filled with excitement. "When you show your brain a certain sequence of moving patterns, they make it freezes up completely." She lectured "We've known this for a while of course, but the brilliance of Xanctuary is that their implants allow them to change their own eyes to recreate those patterns."

"So, Francis, even though unconscious was able to see these patterns imprinted on my own eyes?!" Isaac was starting to get a little but sick.

"Brilliant, isn't it?" Simone asked.

"Sounds pretty useless to me."

"Aha, and that's the thing – no one expects it. This is the main trick Xanctuary adepts use to impress and gather followers. They show you the shifting image of their eyes, letting you think that it's part of the Keeper himself in there and then they let you 'experience' his power by completely paralyzing you body."

"As creepy as that is, Xanctuary is the least of my worries right now. I need to get out of here."

"Ah yes, where do you want to go? The ground floor won't hold any valuable data."

"Up we go then, find me the closest elevator."

"Roger." Simone's voice was accompanied with a few dozen clicks and the yellow lines on the floor returned. Isaac closed the door behind him on the interview room and followed the lines, trying to look as unsuspicious as possible. There was an open elevator at the end of the corridor and thankfully he was the only one there. Scanning Francis's security card over the console, he mashed the highest floor his security clearance allowed.

"Here we go..." Isaac said, as the doors closed and the machine began the long ascend.

End of part 1.

#failure #neuroslicers #short story #video game #narrative #cyberpunk #failuregame

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dreamharvestgames · 8 years ago

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FAILURE: NEUROSLICERS demoing during Intel® Buzz Workshop 2017

We're demoing Failure: NeuroSlicers at Intel Buzz Workshop in London this Saturday 8th April, during the #indiedev showcase - http://intelbuzz.bemyapp.com/2017/london/ come along and meet the team if you're about.

#indiedev #cyberpunk #failuregame #neuroslicers

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savingcontent · 4 years ago

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NeuroSlicers, the action-oriented RTS is coming to PC in 2021, but the Pre-Alpha is available now until August 13th

(more…)

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#Dream Harvest #NeuroSlicers #News #PC #Steam

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jond0e297-blog · 7 years ago

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Hooking into the NeuroNet on Failure: NeuroSlicers can be hard work!

#failuregame #cyberpunk #gamedev

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ind13magazine · 5 years ago

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What's An Indie Game?

What's An Indie Game? @MaybeLaterGames @GuoBetty @HappyDoggoGames @sharkcustard @harrycole @flykidsblue1 @NeuroSlicers @Playtra_Games @AnOtterTeam @nyskogames

We’re starting a series called Ask An Indie, where we ask indie games developers one question related to indie games. In this first in the series we asked, what’s an indie game?

The Ask An Indie series is a great chance to get the answers straight from the experts on indie games. It’s also an opportunity for indie devs to update the community on their projects and progress.

If you are interested…

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barbosaasouza · 5 years ago

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Global Top Round (GTR) 2019 Open For Applications

Global Top Round (GTR), an interactive acceleration and publishing platform, selects ten most promising game studios annually to attend its invite-only GTR annual conference. Could one be you?

GTR aims to support early-stage game studios on an international level. GTR’s dedication to creating a healthy ecosystem in the game industry is the driving force behind the acceleration program.

GTR also looks to help with the development, publishing, and fundraising expertise studios need to take their content to succeed in the global market. Rogue Snail (Relic Hunters Legend) from Brazil, Dream Harvest (Neuroslicers) from the UK, Juncture Media (AVARIAvs) from the US, and ZeroLife Games (The Hatching) from Croatia are some of the awesome GTR cohort studios to keep an eye on.

“Our goals are to see development teams transform into sustainable companies and developers into entrepreneurs. They grow, we grow,“ says Danny Woo, CEO of GTR.

This year’s applications for inauguration into the GTR Acceleration Program will be open from May 20 to July 5. After a comprehensive review of all applicants, the Top 20 studios that are selected will be announced in private on Aug 5 and shall be invited to the 2019 GTR conference held in Busan, Korea, with up to $2,000 travel expense reimbursement for airfare and accommodation.

The conference offers an opportunity to meet and network with promising studios from around the world, GTR partner publishers, investors, and distinguished figures from the gaming industry for two full days. The Top 10 studios shall be announced at the end of the conference.

The handpicked GTR Top 10 game studios shall be eligible to receive $40,000 investment and become a part of GTR’s 6-9 month acceleration program. The program provisions support with game development, business model development, introductions to global publishers, and much more. Successful studios will also become eligible to receive further investments of up to $300,000 to aid further growth of the studio.

GTR applications can be made through their site.

The post Global Top Round (GTR) 2019 Open For Applications appeared first on Indie Games Plus.

Global Top Round (GTR) 2019 Open For Applications published first on https://superworldrom.tumblr.com/

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databasestutorial · 7 years ago

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RT @Dream_Harvest: NeuroSlicers is a completely new take on the RTS genre. Throwing out many of traditional elements in favor of pushing the genre forward in new and exciting ways. We'd love to get your feedback so please join our Pre-Alpha on the 13th April - https://t.co/GuNwk1tLqM #madewithunity https://t.co/8jw2lzg2vS #Gamedevelopment #GameDev #Unity #Unity3D

#Gamedevelopment GameDev Unity Unity3D

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gaminghardware0 · 7 years ago

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Free games: We have 1000 Steam keys for competitive cyberpunk RTS, NeuroSlicers!

You're a hacker trying to make it on your own - no, you want more than that, you want to be the best Slicer in the network. But to get there you'll need to reach higher than fighting for your share of cryptocurrency. There's a truth hidden in the depths of the data. In NeuroSlicers it is your mission to uncover it.

We'll help you along, too, as we're giving away 1000 Steam keys that will get you into the NeuroSlicers pre-alpha test. Keep on reading to find out how to get yours.

Check out the best free Steam games if you want more freebies.

NeuroSlicers is a competitive cyberpunk RTS that will have a full-blown multiplayer narrative campaign for you to get stuck into, as well as progression mechanics on top of that. Matches are played in real-time and are made to run for between five to ten minutes in length - so you can fit them into your busy schedule.

Unusually for the genre it's in, NeuroSlicers focuses on speed, and as such, gives you total information of the battlefield and your enemy, removing genre staples like fog of war.

from https://www.pcgamesn.com/neuroslicers/free-games-neuroslicers

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neuro-slicers · 7 years ago

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AS ABOVE,SO BELOW

A Short Story By Daniel Elms

She walked the point of incidence between two parallel worlds. Adrift in an infinite wash of electric blue, only the smell of ammonia and petrichor suggested her footing was earthly. The rain-washed street reflected illuminated, composite signage that had no perceptible end — fractal, electronic life. As her portrait receded into the urban cosmos, an iridescent, freestanding door in the centre of the street framed her silhouette and split the parallel worlds in two, parting the waves of the faceless shadows that marred her path. She approached the door, with no outward act of devotion to witness, and the door, heeding her wordless prayer, opened.

Jun Almeida awoke from a premonition upon the backseat of her patrol car. She wretched and vomited, directing the bulk of the brown matter, with honed accuracy, to an awaiting sickness bag; she held her head in her hands.

“Fuck.” her voice was thick with mucus and matter, “Fucking ramen.”

She used a napkin to wipe away an acidic spatter that had caught her trousers and discarded it among the empty take-out packaging that lay strewn across the car’s workstation. The sight of the leftover food caused an influx of nausea — the deep, dull nausea that came from using neurostimulants. She unclasped a latch upon a half-moon pendant that hung around her neck and revealed a recessed compartment. Its felt lining was stained with chalk-like dust; a chrome divider partitioned its near-depleted contents by colour: pink and blue pills. Jun took a blue pill, a chromatography baffle — “Chroma”, and swallowed it with the dregs from a water bottle. The pill’s sugary film dissolved and scolded Jun’s vomit-burnt throat. She paused for a moment, allowing the Chroma to work its way through her system — a near-instant process due to the pill’s latent nanotechnology. Jun had become attuned to the bodily sensations that occurred when the Chroma had begun to obfuscate the chemical content of her body and so put her palm to an embossed square of strengthened, black glass, which was recessed within the car’s interior. After a brief whirring of internal mechanisms, the cabin filled with the piercing, blue-light of monitors and projection overlays, their outdated appearance a hallmark of the 22nd Municipality’s police force.

A request from Dispatch flashed on the left-most screen with a synchronised and incessant tone. Before Jun was able to dismiss the request, the car’s Navigator accepted the callout and accelerated, with an almost-inaudible charge, towards the incident.

“Navigator, what the fuck?”

The Navigator responded with a single pitch that denoted a failure to comprehend the question. Jun checked the monitors for an explanation and then recalled that her Blackbox was still connected to the terminal: “For fuck’s sake!”

Jun tore the Blackbox from the terminal and stopped herself from throwing it across the cabin. To cancel the request from Dispatch would be to open an investigation by the Gazettes into Jun’s conduct that evening and there would be enough trace of neurostimulants in the patrol car to warrant avoiding that outcome, even a minor investigation would be enough to undo the work of the Chroma. She sat back and wiped the fatigue from her eyes as the car sped towards the incident: officer in need of assistance.

The reflection of her car’s oscillating blue and red lights greeted Jun as she alighted at the Northern end of Corbyn Street — thoroughfare of the Gonzo pleasure district.

She covered herself from the rain with her jacket’s hood and proceeded towards the officer that had requested backup, making a turn at the end of the road on to a narrow alley that was hemmed in between two Skytowers; the towers stretched towards the heavens and beyond the line of sight, an optical illusion created, in part, by the incomprehensible mass of projections that overlaid one another and vied for attention. Disparate vendors, which sold erotica enhancers on the shelves and black-market goods behind the counters, lined the alleyway, all of which were controlled by a few Slavic syndicates that had partitioned the area into three respective territories, the boundaries of which were maintained by a fraught ceasefire. In part, the alliance was bound to an unspoken deal between the police and the syndicates in which an absence of police raids and prosecution was exchanged for an area of containment and an end to the violence between gangs. Jun made her way through the network of connecting streets and walkways, deeper into the web of the black market. She heard raised voices ahead of her.

Constable Longhu, one of Jun’s subordinates from a neighboring district, had his sidearm pointed at a woman who knelt upon the ground with her hands behind her head. Unusually, he held the weapon with a single hand and his right arm hung lifelessly by his side. Surrounding Longhu, with a collection of pistols and gauss rifles trained on him, were three syndicate members. Their voices were raised — a combination of Bulgarian and broken English — as was Longhu’s, who’s lack of linguistic skill only heightened the tension.

Momentarily, Jun’s awareness of the situation faded as she looked upon the woman kneeling on the ground. She wore flowing, iridescent robes that were stained with the dirt and rain and reflected the gaudy, red facades of the surrounding brothels and clubs; her image clouded Jun’s instincts with an overwhelming sensation of déjà vu — the stimulant-induced dream had been broken. The woman’s face differed from that which Jun had dreamt, but her aura was the same: she made the air crackle with latent, otherworldly energy. The woman watched Jun with an impassive expression. Jun lingered for a moment before she broke eye contact and approached the standoff, slowly, with her hands raised, “Constable Longhu.”

The syndicate members shifted uneasily on the spot; Longhu didn’t turn from the woman on the ground. One of the gang members made a clicking sound with his tongue and the other members, keeping their weapons trained on Longhu, calmed.

Jun was known to some in the area ever since she had traded police favors with some of the local Slavs in exchange for black-market goods — usually Chroma.

Jun stopped her approach, but kept her hands raised. “Almeida?” Longhu asked, over his shoulder. “Who else?” “How…I didn’t call for backup.” “Well, you’ve got it anyway.” “The bitch broke my arm.” “I can see that. But you know what the deal is around here.” “Are you fucking serious?” “Yes, I am fucking serious. As are the three ‘gentlemen’ surrounding you.” “You can’t expect-“ “I expect you, Constable, to follow a direct order and holster your fucking weapon.”

Longhu paused. In his peripheral vision he saw one of the syndicate members adjust his rifle grip. Jun has also observed the adjustment, “Slowly, Longhu.”

The constable holstered his weapon and the syndicate members lowered theirs accordingly. The gang member who’d recognized Jun glared as he holstered his pistol and spat on the ground, “Fucking hooks.” Jun let the insult slide and watched the man return to the entrance of a nearby brothel before she turned her attention to Longhu. “This is the top of the fucking list, Constable. Pride of place amongst Longhu’s ever-expanding menagerie of living fuck ups.” “I-“ “I don’t give a shit. You do not fuck with the terms of the Treaty. Even rimming the Gazettes won’t get you out of that clusterfuck.”

Longhu let a flash of aggression pass over him. It didn’t go unnoticed by Jun, who exhaled audibly and allowed the tension to diffuse through her.

Longhu calmed and reflected on the turn of events, “What are you doing here, Almeida?” “Inspector.” “Okay: Inspector. Why are you here? I didn’t request backup.” “Someone did. Lucky for your pasty ass.”

Unobserved by Jun, Longhu activated the HUD of his retinal implants and scrolled through the intranet log from Dispatch to see who requested the backup. There was no record of the request.

The Navigator had already been traveling for five minutes when the patrol car’s monitors indicated that no search results had been returned. Jun swiveled her chair away from the terminal and observed the woman through the reinforced screen that divided the cabin and the lockup. Jun took a moment to steel herself and dampen the conflict that was growing inside her. The woman opened her eyes at the sound of the one-way glass flickering into a transparent state and the two sat facing each other.

Jun, who considered herself to be a natural physiognomist, observed the woman closely, searching for any outward indication of her intent; anything that might confirm Jun’s growing suspicion that this woman was more than what she seemed; that some other force was at play and that she had stumbled into its thermal. Evidently, even Xanctuary’s conditioning wasn’t beyond Jun’s read, as she interpreted the subtlest of changes pass over the woman’s countenance.

“Something funny?”

“There are more bountiful paths to Walk that do not stray from Her light, Jun Almeida.”

The woman motioned through the glass to the rear of the cabin: the unkempt space, the fast food, the sealed sickness bag; the Blackbox. Discretely, Jun felt around her belt and rested her hand upon her badge, tracing the embossed print of her name.

“There are better ways to avoid being seen.” Jun replied. “It was self defense.” the woman’s words carried no fear or anger; it was as if she were reciting a text learnt by rote.

“That’s going to be your word against his. He’s an officer of the law, whose arm you broke, and you’re no one.” Jun pulled a small monitor towards her and turned the empty screen towards the woman, “You’ve got no retinals, no facial scans, no pheromone match; nothing.”

The woman remained impassive.

“Do you know what happens to people without ID that get time? They go missing. Moved from one correctional facility to another. A court date that is pushed back every time it comes close because some clerk thinks you’re a fuck up on the system. Maybe an officer slipped the clerk some credits just to fuck with you. And with every new facility a new proliferation of dicks — literally and figuratively — who have spent their time just waiting for one of you pious, religious types to show up. Not being able to sit down and chew your own food is going to be the least of your fucking problems.”

“The church does not condone unsupervised relations.” Jun wiped at her nostrils to cover a smirk that threatened to break her character. “Look, if you don’t want to do time, you’re going to have to start talking to me and you’re going to have to start by telling me who the fuck you are.”

“You may stop now, Jun Almeida. I know the true purpose of your questions.” “You know fuck all. You broke-” “Cease.” the woman’s interjection plunged the cabin into darkness and the engine’s motors came to a halt; only the passive sound of the car’s momentum could be heard against the road. The punctuation lasted but a moment. The engine restarted, the car accelerated and the cabin was filled once again with the glow from its terminal.

“There is a path before us that must be walked together. But those who would undermine Her word are advancing and would see to it that the lamp that guides our feet is extinguished. I see the conflict inside you, Jun Almeida: duty and motherhood.”

Motherhood. The old fear advanced through Jun. Not fear of the words spoken, or the passing darkness — the trick of a concealed interferer —but fear of hope and the remembrance of pain inflicted by it. Throughout all her years of searching, this was the closest that Jun had come to any member of the church. She knew that it could be Xanctuary’s profiling: the Blackbox, the neurostimulants — their implication; the Barnum phrases that triggered responses in those who longed for something beyond; something more. But, despite Jun’s reasoning, it was her want to believe that blew upon the dying ember of her hope. If this woman was from the innermost circles of the church, if she was a True Believer, she could indeed find the answers to Jun’s questions; she could be Jun’s salvation.

“I want to see it.” “I do not practice my faith for it to be observed by others.” “I want to see the fucking scar.” “You refer to the Mark of Ascension. But ask yourself what you have already observed. You saw my likeness and felt my presence as you walked deep within Her, did you not? Did we not meet because She sent for you?” “Constable Longhu-” “Constable Longhu said so himself: he did not request your assistance. Though one must be truthful: his presence was unforeseen, but one consequence of a growing darkness that threatens all of us. Observe your own actions and ask what else must be seen before you will believe. For belief is why I am in your custody and not that of the constable; why you have obscured this vehicle’s location from the observations of your superiors; why we travel to the most remote facility within your jurisdiction. You wish to extend the time we share together so that you may confirm your belief. But no confirmation is necessary.”

Jun walked a fine line between two contrasting states of being, but the Navigator, which chirped to indicate the car’s final approach, curtailed her introspection. It was enough to break the intoxication.

Jun pulled herself away from the edge, “What is your name?” “You may call me Sister Bai.” “Well, Bai,” Jun began, “seeing as you’ve demonstrated a willingness to cooperate and share a lot of what you think you know about me, allow me to share something with you. Here on the outside, away from the church, parents put their children to bed at night and tell them to be good. They say: ‘if you’re not, the True Believer will come’ — come in the night and take them away. They say that there is no distance too far and no secret too secure for the True Believer. That it walks among us and — at the same time — walks There, among your thoughts. And, if you’re not good, ‘if you don’t fall asleep’, it will hold you up to the sky and prophesize the darkest parts of your soul to the whole world. And, you know what? It’s a fucking fairy tale.”

The “Fuckhole”, the smallest of 140 police stations in the 22nd municipality, was a brutalist structure at the end of short, car-lined street — an adjunct to the Southern-most end of Gonzo’s main thoroughfare. Alleyways spidered away from it and led to the emergency exits and loading bays of the surrounding apartment blocks and rundown businesses, all which were built into the lowest tiers of four Skytowers. Closer inspection revealed that the road did not terminate at the police station, but instead sloped downwards towards a subterranean car park beneath the building, the entrance to which was guarded by an automated gate of six-inch, reinforced plasteel. The pedestrian walkway encircled the gate at its upper terminal, forming a canopy for the underground car park and the ground level of the station’s outer foyer, which was flanked by an expansive staircase; the building’s Eastern face gave way to an unkempt, ornamental plaza that had served repeatedly as a staging area for the police during times of civic unrest. The car left the thoroughfare and headed towards the station.

“Navigator, put in a request for access to the 22.” The Navigator responded with a negative chime. Looking at the monitors, Jun saw that there was no recognition of the police station’s systems whatsoever. She underplayed the discrepancy in front of Bai.

“Fine. Just park the fuck up.” The Navigator’s declaratory pitch resounded. “Navigator. Park the car.”

The Navigator mounted the car upon the walkway; Jun alighted and helped Bai out from inside the car’s lockup. Before she closed the car door, Jun grew irritated at her own absentmindedness among the familiar surroundings of the 22nd, as she observed three tall figures, equal in stature, that stood in a line in front of the station’s entrance. They stared, unrelentingly, at Bai.

Floor-length, brown garments, which could not be made out as either tactical overcoats or orthodox robes, obscured their limbs and created the illusion that they were afloat. Most striking of all were their faces, which radiated an iridescent, silver light, as though their features were superimposed; their facial structures shimmered, responding to imperceptible changes in the air around them; from moment to moment, they changed irrevocably.

“Prophets.” said Bai. Her focus was as intense as those observing her.

Slowly, each of the prophets reached beneath the left breast of their robe. There was an inhuman level of synchronization between their movements as each produced a small, chrome cylinder and held it aloft. A heavy silence fell between the two parties. This brief moment appeared to both Jun and Bai as a momentary lapse of time. Through divination, borne out of their respective wisdom's, they each threw themselves to the ground behind the patrol car.

The illusory lull in the universal decay of carbon — nothing more than a heady influx of adrenaline — was punctured by a violent crack of pure energy that ruptured the air above them — a composite sound of three offensive strikes made in perfect unison.

The street lights behind Jun and Bai burnt out with a surge of electricity and plunged the surrounding area into darkness; the interior of Jun’s car was awash with erroneous script and dialogue boxes, which cast an ambient light and projected Jun and Bai’s shadows upon the wall behind them.

Jun unholstered her sidearm to return fire. The pilot light of her pistol was glowing red, preventing the trigger from unlocking. She re-holstered it and reached behind her for the hand-grip of a non-regulation pistol that she carried discreetly.

“No.” Bai grabbed Jun’s hand, preventing withdrawal of the weapon, “There is another Way.”

She removed her hand from Jun’s and closed her eyes. Jun watched as Bai’s face assumed the contorted appearance of someone jacked-in to the net. Within seconds, Bai had traversed from one world to another and assumed command of the station’s defenses. At her command, the riot shield walls, which surrounded the station’s perimeter and formed an intricate defensive structure within the neighboring plaza, shot forth from their subterranean housing, beckoned forth by a warning siren and oscillating lights; a Gauss cannon on a spherical turret, mounted above the station’s entrance, rolled out of its protective enclosure and sent repeated, controlled bursts of depleted uranium — with millimeter precision — into the ground before the prophets. She was at once both Here and There.

She was a True Believer.

The prophets erupted from their stoic formation with a speed and grace that belied their intent to make ground upon Bai. Their movement was obscured by feigns that were designed to deceive the eye and were meticulously calculated, based upon a cascade of information they absorbed from the digital infrastructures around them.

The prophets attempted to usurp Bai’s power by corrupting the hardware that she controlled. The servos of the shield walls wailed, as their internal mechanics struggled beneath the opposing forces of Bai’s will and the surges of energy from the prophets’ staffs.

Fire from the turret forced the prophets to adjust their course towards Bai, cutting off their route with streams of bullets that were sent into the ground before them and the cover around them. Any ground lost by one prophet would be made up by another; the fight was a perpetual cycle of balance, unbalance and re-balance that seemed to have no conclusion until a single gunshot rang out amidst the cacophony.

The shot tore through the flesh of Bai’s upper-left abdomen, breaking the lower rib, which prevented the bullet from piercing her stomach. Bai’s connection to the NeuroNet was terminated instantly and the pain pulled her senses sharply back into reality; her robes flooded with crimson and she instinctively, almost absent-mindedly, applied pressure to the wound — it had been foreseen.

A hail of mechanical fire added itself to the din as an armed response unit approached rapidly from the far end of the street, moving between cover as they advanced upon the prophets’ position. Their gunfire was countered with the sound of energy tearing through the air. Amidst the chaos, Jun identified two Gazettes at the rear of the unit and recognized one as her direct superior, Commissioner Shui. To the left of him, in a defensive position behind a car, was Constable Longhu with his non-issue pistol still trained on Bai.

A crack of energy echoed down the length of the street. The force of the shot spun the tactical officer who was on point; his muscles convulsed rapidly, forcing his trigger finger to contract and send a burst of rifle fire into his tactical squad. The effected officer’s implants began to fight against the organic matter in which they were embedded, burning his insides and rendering him prostrate on the ground and writhing in a spasm.

A second, synchronized barrage of fire came from the prophets, which struck the cars that the tactical officers were using as cover. One of the car’s Navigators was thrust into life by the electrical surge and accelerated into the other parked vehicle, forcing Longhu and the Gazettes to fall back under its uncompromising forward motion.

The gunfire of the armed response unit became staggered and unfocused: they struggled to comprehend the movement of the prophets, who were only visible when they moved between cover and whip-cracked their staffs. Their robes were now many hundreds of shades of aggressive scarlet and glistened with reflected light, their faces, too, had changed and looked now to be more geometric and shield-like than before.

Jun threaded her arm around Bai and pulled her up from the ground, being careful to keep their heads below cover, “Keep the pressure on it.”

As Bai’s adrenaline waned, the searing pain began to take hold of her. It brought something from deep within her to the surface, which rendered her almost human.

Jun walked Bai towards the armed response unit. “No.” Bai said, realising the direction of their travel, “that is not our path.” “We’ve got to go! Right fucking now!” “She lives.”

It was the sincerity within Bai’s eyes that communicated the meaning of her words and Jun’s world fell away; her mind and body felt both revitalized and removed entirely from their surroundings. “This is the answer you seek. But that is not our path,” Bai motioned towards the armed response unit, “She has illuminated the Way and we must walk it together.”

Bai directed Jun to the depths of a nearby alleyway that was equidistant between their position and the other officers.

At the end of the alley, a single light punctured the shadows: a white door stood illuminated — an ephemeral and ethereal gateway. It was as Jun had seen it in her drug-induced catatonia — a premonition. Jun looked at Bai, searching the diminishing light of her face for some affirmation of what she was about to do. The latent potential of her pending action felt to Jun, even amidst the chaos, like a point of no return. Bai’s weakening voice broke Jun’s mesmeric gaze into the abyss.

“What lies beyond. It is beyond Her sight.”

Whatever was beyond the door and whatever wrath would follow them through it, Jun had started to believe; there would be answers; there would be hope —

“She lives”.

#cyberpunk #fiction #neuroslicers #short story #rts #real-time strategy

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dreamharvestgames · 8 years ago

Text

Dev Blog - March 2017

Justin - Creative Director

What a month it's been. It's almost all become a bit of a blur due to the number of different things I've been jumping around doing... I guess that's indie dev for you!

Anyway, my month started off with getting a phone call from a certain someone asking us to pitch our game in front of an investment board with the possibility of securing some of the much-needed funding we've been desperately trying to get for the past 12 months+. With this in mind, we went into "oh shit what are we going to do" mode.

We had to prepare a 20-minute presentation that went into details about the game but more importantly our potential sales figures, monetization model and other business stuff. Luckily, I'm a bit obsessive about all of this so I'd actually already prepared all our numbers months before, though this was a good opportunity to update everything based on how other similar games had been performing over the past 6 months or so.

One of the big issues with the investment board was only two out of ten members were actually from the games industry so we had to work extra hard to explain things that I'm sure most of us understand quite well, such as what a Real-Time Strategy (RTS) game is, or what games as a service is.

It was a grueling 20-minute presentation with another 20 minutes of questions from the board.

To take a bit of weight and embarrassment off my shoulders I roped Milcho into coming with me... and he hates public speaking, which I thought was great. I'd be able to take a breather during the presentation and Milcho could take my place shitting in his pants.

All in all, we think it went well and the feedback has been good, though whether we get the money or not is not 100% confirmed yet, at least not officially.

Since the pitch, it's been all hands back on the demo build for Reboot Develop and it's been another great time getting back to my roots of sound design and writing music. One of the most complex sounds I've had to make for the project has been the Transmission Tower level objective for the Skyline level and it's been quite complex getting each of its sounds integrated and triggering exactly how I wanted, but my god it's sounding and looking awesome; though there's still a few tweaks I'd like to make to the sounds and transitions between elements.

I've also been working on new UI sounds in unison for the work that's currently being done on the player feedback systems. Player feedback is super critical and we'd like to be in a position during Reboot Develop where we don’t need to give any help or instructions to people sitting down to test and play the game. It's an ongoing struggle but we'll get there eventually.

Anyway, I've spoken for too long so will let the others take over from now.

Sven - CTO / Lead Programmer

So what have I've been doing since the last update? A lot of different things, what comes to mind right now is:

backend server systems

the game server

replacing some old effects with Unity's new "Post Processing Stack"

a new menu system

some fixes to some old systems

helping with preparing the presentation

Can't really write about everything here as it would end up in a big wall of text that almost no one is interested in (if you are, sorry for not writing about everything). So, I'll just pick two topics, which have been part of my focus this month.

Menu system

Never really took the time to work on a menu system with the 'new' Unity UI system (it has been out for something like 3 years, so it's hard to still call it new). But, it was interesting to play around with it and figure out how to best make transitions between different menu screens (hint: good starting point is here - https://docs.unity3d.com/Manual/HOWTO-UIScreenTransition.html). As we're currently working on the design of some of the screens - what I've did won't be in the game for some time.

One thing that came out of this was a nice system for Options/Settings where we now have a system which is easy to use, so adding a new option to the menu and using it became really easy as:

This also takes care of loading/saving the values. Getting the values and getting notified about changes is also really easy:

Maybe I'll polish the code a bit more and make it open source, could be useful for others. The whole thing is a bit more complicated than it seems as it involves code generation (using CodeDOM) which has the big advantage that I can generate all the methods to get the values etc. this makes it easy to use and makes sure you can't really do anything wrong when using it.

Graphics and Post Processing

A few words on Unity's new "Post Processing Stack". If you're a developer who is thinking about upgrading to the "Cinematic Image Effects", which is now considered to be legacy, be aware that some stuff still isn't in there e.g. the included Fog doesn't support height fog yet, also it completely takes control over the fog settings, so once you add the "Post Processing Stack" to your project you won't be able to use the fog settings in the lighting settings. Bloom is missing the "High Quality" mode too.

In our case, we had to mix the old effects and the new stack so we don't use some features, like the height fog. Overall it seems nice and should be the way to go forward. For me the most important thing is that everything is now integrated into one 'effect' and it's no longer a collection of separate effects. This alone should make it possible to gain a bit of performance, simply because some steps can be reused for multiple effects. I'm not worried about the missing stuff as I assume all that will be added at some point and if it isn't the whole thing is open source so you can add whatever you want yourself.

Milcho - Lead Designer / Programmer

Salutations, lots has happened since last time so let's quickly go through it.

Reboot Develop

Reboot Develop is happening next month and we have so much to go through to get a stable build ready. We’ve spent the last two-week crushing bugs and making improvements, like adding unit paths on placement for example:

Upgrades

Currently, we don't have many upgrades designed for our abilities. I've designed at least one upgrade for each ability that we're planning to get in for the develop build. One of them will be on our Artillery building, which will let you launch units across the board.

But that's it from me for today. I hope you got your monthly fix of enlightenment.

Until the end of time, Milcho.

Loic - Art Director / Designer

Following last month’s work on the final look of units, we now have all our in-game playable assets that went from mock-up modelling to their final form, with textures and animations.

I polished some concepts for each of them:

I started concept work on a new environment, the Red Lights District, which you can have a glimpse here:

An additional lead on a Zen Garden environment, where I focused on optimising the number of assets to produce to obtain a harmonious moody enviro at reasonable costs.

I then helped to brainstorm on the UI discussion, focusing on our card system to convey clearly all the information about playable elements, while taking as less space as possible and aiming for a slicker sci-fi look than traditional cards.

We are still finding ideas to compress information in a smarter way, and these cards should soon be very comfortable to read, giving precise information so the player can really understand, by themselves, how the game works, but never overwhelmed or distracted by icons or numbers.

Finally, the next goal is to polish our main environment further, the City Scape, so we can have a benchmark of what the game will look like.

Here is a WIP progression screenshot:

Kelvin - VFX Artist

It's been a really busy month! I've only been able to work part-part-time for Failure, because I'm doing another full-time role elsewhere, so I haven't had much time to check everything off my list. But with the little time I did have, I could create the Transmission Tower's capture FX, the Artillery projectile, and some work in progress Nanite elements.

The Transmission Tower's capture FX was a challenge. We already had an existing FX, but with the addition of Loic's tower animations and Justin's sound design, it really pushed the vision even more. After seeing all the pieces together, we knew we wanted to add even more to the FX, it had to be more epic! While playing Justin's sounds in the background, I was pushing forward with the FX until we got something that felt like it was hitting the field very hard. I'm happy to see where it is right now. We have some adjustments to make to sound and code now that I've adjusted the FX, but I can't wait to see it. I'm also really excited to see Artillery's projectiles flying around the map. The battlefield was really missing something like that, and I can't wait to see what it'll add to the game.

youtube

Amelie – UX Designer & Writer

Hello, everyone, I'm the team newbie I guess. So my name is Amélie and I do both writing and UX research, I've been doing UX for about 12 years now, only working in games for the last four or so, and that's when I started developing my skills as a creative writer as well.

For the moment, I'm honestly just really trying to catch up with the number of things the team has done so far and familiarising with the gameplay mechanics and the flow, asking many questions and doing my best to see where the player experience can be optimised. I've written some UX reviews which the team has already implemented or planned to include those recommendations for the next build.

This month I've helped reorganize the information on the Script cards and defining when and how does the player need to access each piece on information about his script, I'm currently working on a wireframe for the Deck builder and very soon I will be doing the lobby. (Read More about the UI Stuff here)

I love how the team is super welcoming to fresh ideas and suggestions and how everybody is so driven to deliver the best possible game experience, we're all looking forward to this next build and I'll be meeting the guys too in Kings Landing as I go with another very small indie team to present another indie game called Fractal Space, (http://store.steampowered.com/app/435410/), how exciting!

There I hope we can meet a lot of potential players and have them test the game. There is no better UX research than field research, guerrilla style: just have a player sit there and look at what he struggles to understand and how fast he alone adjusts to this new environment. Testing the game in Dubrovnik will give us plenty of material to iterate on the next version of the UI and to validate the stuff we worked hard to do well.

There is plenty more UI and UX improvements that we will be doing before travelling there so this and test preparation should keep me fairly busy, but I look forward to quieter times when I'll be able to dive into the NeuroNet universe and start writing missions and dialogues and find a good voice to fit the fascinating narrative that awaits you!

#failure game #neuroslicers #neuronet #rts #real time strategy #cyberpunk #indie dev

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