Thinking back - Comms load 19

So, what is a war frame? Post humans can suffer from a certain degree of alienation when dealing with baseline humans. The less human the body, the more likely this is to be a problem. War frames are combat oriented cyborg bodies. Generally designers forgo things like eyes, faces, necks, and other fragile human features. also, these bodies are frequently tall, sometimes as tall as 2.5 meters, though 2 is more common. 

Having such frightening outward forms, and a great deal of physical power can lead these warriors to believe that humans are inferior, and develop deep psychological problems. 

In order to avoid these problems, some 'borgs maintain less monstrous frames, to use when "at home", where ever that may be. These lighter, more human bodies are often referred to as ship frames. This comes from the fact that most 'borgs only use such frames aboard ships. such supplemental bodies can be run remotely, or by directly mounting the brain into the frame. For this reason, modular life support is very common in heavy cyborgs.  Most cyborgs are nervous that their shipframe will be hacked if it is under wireless control. 

- - -

The next few weeks had a remarkably familiar routine, after she had sorted out the details with Dicemen.  She was not allowed into her war frame, but she had always maintained a separate ship frame. It made life easier in the close quarters of a crowded vessel. And it was easier to deal with the crew when you are the same height as everyone else.

She painted a camouflage scheme on her warframe, and ran several diagnostics. It was nice to be so close to it. It felt more like home. The new systems were interesting as well. It gave her a lot to consider.

Sharren rebuilt her Virtual training environment to help her train on the new features. The techs aboard the UN ship were helpful and loaned her some fairly decent code. The VI hostiles were better than she was used to, and she felt the training environment was most helpful. It also served to pass the time.

This was still a prison, and she wanted out. She knew that this was death sentence, but once she was free of this ship, it could at least be death on her own terms. She could not ignore the hope of escape, either. Freedom was why she had swapped out her body in the first place.

The crew she was to rendezvous with looked well enough on a spreadsheet.  The crew of 20 consisted 16 combatants and 4 pilots. One of them was a post human, like herself. Not as monstrous however, he had kept his face and some other bits.

Most of them were Prussians, caught in the web, just like she was. The gear was not too bad either. Midrange PAX arms stuff. No fancy ammo, but if this was half as easy as Dicemen had described it, that should not be a problem.  

The UN crew stayed away from her unless she sought them out. She was restricted to the bay where they were storing her warframe. she hat a cot setup there, and she had over two weeks of food stored in the ship frame they had given her. 

Her thoughts drifted to her old life.  Her father had trained her to be a warrior. He had sold his gun arm for credits for over 20 years, mostly in service to the colonists at Gaia. A Greek ethnic colony, it was underfunded from the start, and new colonists were scarce. It was a nice place though.  It was a little cold, but it had trees, and rivers.

Life there was harsh. At 5200 light years from Sol, Gaia was rarely resupplied. Colonists made do with what they had. For the most part, it was not so bad. One bad year could wipe out a home stead, however. Medicine was a guarded commodity.  The UN ban on auto-doctors meant that medical training was also in short supply on new colonies.

She had learned young that only the strong survive, and luck is the work lesser people use to describe skill. Her mother had died in childbirth; she had been old enough to remember it. Her baby brother only outlived her mother by a few days. Her father taught her to farm, and hunt. To defend their property against bandits.

There were not many bandits when she was young, but as she aged, more and more dispossessed would take to raiding to supplement their own failing fortunes. When Sharren was twenty, free trader ships started to show up, usually two or three ships each year. They had tech, medicine, data loads, and fancy booze. Everything folks needed.

One such ship touched down near her own stead. Her father had come back empty handed, which was rare. The traders were extorting the local, and wanted 100 kilos of fresh foodstuff from every one in 100 klicks.

She was ready when they came to her door. 

Comms Load 18

When she woke up again, Sharren found herself in a simple, white washed office. She was in a light weight mechbody, not her own.  The desk was tidy, if well used. There was a man sitting at the desk, looking a work screen, but from her seat, she could not see what he was looking at.

He glanced up at her. He had a winning smile and understated features. She could not tell his age, and his hair was a perfectly highlighted shade of brown. She knew the type. 2^nd or 3^rd generation gene-mod. That meant earth born. He had on a white ship suit, with grey lettering.  His shoulder chevron proclaimed his rank as commander.  Like most earth folk, he had no jewelry or tattoos that she could see.

“What is your name?” he asked. His tone was warm, not the interrogation she had expected. “Your first name will do. I just want know who I am talking to”

“My name is Sharren” She ended on a note of surprise. The voice coming out of this body was a flat, boyish voice. She searched for a control feature, and found it quickly enough. She spent a short moment a selected a husky female tone form the default setting list. “My name is Sharren” she repeated with more confidence.

The Commander smiled again, and made a note on his work screen.

“I am commander Mills Dicemen. I am surprised that you are female. Most body jobs are, or were, male”. His smile never wavered. He slide a data tablet across the desk, with in her easy reach.  “Well, Sharren, you are in a rough place. Law requires me to destroy your war frame, and send you down to a level III indenture in the body you have now.” He gave her a knowing look, and the tablet in front of her flicked to a display of what she assumed was the mechbody she was in now.  She looked it over briefly.

“This thing is a piece of crap” she said flatly. “It’s inferior to flesh, and fragile. I’d be killed on a Level III”. She Thumbed her way into the more detailed specs, but found little to endear her to this shell. Low power supply, no strength, limited acceleration, and a weak plastic exterior.  Flesh humans were more dangerous.

“Indeed” Dicemen began, after a moment. “That’s what we are here to talk about.  You like being a monster, don’t you?” He did not pause, but while he spoke he changed the display on her tablet to her war frame, the mechbody she had lived in for over 15 years. “I can put you back in there. I can even set you loose” he looked up at her, his smile widening.

“The UN navy does not use cyborgs” She replied flatly. “How could you possibly use my war frame?”

“I need an incident to respond to.  I have a team of mercs ready to do some pillaging, but they need more punch” He was still cordial, but his expression was more guarded. 

“It doesn’t take much punch to pillage…” She was glad the frame she was in had no face. Sharren was not in the mood to frown.

“This a tougher nut. I need a glorious mess, and images of an unstoppable monster.” He brought up some news clips on her tablet. Scenes of burning prefabs and colonists firing shotguns at powered armor.  “This sort of thing. Keeps the dirt farmers paying taxes.” He glanced at her, a bit less of a smile on his face, and then made some notes on his screen.  Her display changed as well, highlighting certain parts of her war frame. New sensors, active armor panels with q-mag screens.

“Upgrades? I thought you would just leave me as I am.”

“I need you tough enough to do the job, and escape.”

“I do this, and I just leave? No follow up?” She made her voice skeptical.

“Until we catch you again. Then you own me more work. You stay out of my way, and you’re just another merc, one more fish in the sea. “Dicemen smiled. “ You are my job security”

Sharren didn’t like the thought.  Still, this was the work she’d been doing for years. Her troupe would land on a new colony and use force and terror to extort from the locals, and leave.  Not a lavish life, but one that was familiar, and could lead to a lot wealth. The improvements to her frame were substantial. She’d need more fuel, but in saver mode, the unit could run for over a year on one F-cell.

“How do I get off world?” she asked after a long moment. “This frame is good, but it can’t fly”.

“You’ll have a team, with a ship and a good lander. They’ve been give and similar deal, and we have a commissar aboard to make sure things go well.” He was smiling again, and looking pleased. “The commissar will bail out as soon as you reach anywhere civilized again. UNCN intelligence will get her home again.”

Sharren was skeptical, but her tablet was now showing the specs of a DEVIL DOG class dropship, and small cargo jumper, one that was new enough not to attract negative attention form most police forces. Either ship was worth a fortune, and the dropship was armed.  DEVIL DOGS were good landers, better in many ways then the Spencers most ships used. She could even go legit with ships this nice.

“What’s the catch” she asked. Her tone was back to neutral.

“This mission is brutal, and you will have one shot to make it work.” His smile change subtly. He grinned with malice now. “You’ll probably be killed, and we will not support you.”  He moved new information onto her tablet. The name on the colony was highlighted. Sharren now understood the catch.

“I’ll do it. Get me some paint for my war frame.“

The commander smiled, and guards escorted her to where her frame was. A tech had set out a paint sprayer. It’s on now, she thought. 

Comms Load 17

So, Sharren Vickers art contest comes in with a victory for Justin (chester the jester).

So, here is every one's favorite armored monster, your own 7 foot love machine, Sharren!

For Next Month, I hope one of our brave artists will have a go a piece of equipment, the "hotbox" Surface to Orbit shuttle.

The hotbox is a Prussian design, with all the brutal efficiency that they are known for. These are long bodied, short winged Vertol that have more in common with an attack helicopter than an airplane. The engines are mounted on either side of the cargo/troop area, which is where it gets it's name. The over sized drives tend to heat the ships interior to 90 plus degrees during combat ops.

See what you can do, and email me your entries!
redwolf.79@gmail.com

Jesse Out.

Comms Load 16 - 2013

Well, we're 383 years from the beginning of most of these stories, and much much closer to seeing the Role Playing Game that goes with them completed.

While were waiting, I thought I'd share a little more about Sharren. Turns out she was very popular with the readers of this blog.

Also, I wanted to remind you that the current sketch contest is for the best Sharren, our own 6'8" female cyborg. She is a bit of a monster, having retro-grade knees, and she keeps hidden behind an inch of heavy armor. She's also a big fan of 12 mm assault rifles. Really, who isn't?

As always, please leave comments, it gives me more warm fuzzies than looking at the page view counter. that thing is really bland. It also helps me improve my writing.

with no further ado, here's our favorite bad girl.

--

The boot screen was a shock. Her mother had told her killers end up in hell. Sharren was pretty sure she was dead. She tried to blink, but the boot screen remained, cycling through it's diagnostics. She mentally went over a brief recap of her last moments. She had slipped a grenade into her own damaged chest, and detonated it. There was a flash of white, then black, then nothing.

The boot screen was still cheerily spitting out data on her vitals and body condition. it was taking a really long time. then she realized, of course! Hell is a eternal boot screen, never reaching 100% on the load bar. Damn. that was not at all what mom had described. She shook her head.

Or rather, tried to shake her head. there was no motor response. She tried to curse, but there was no verbal or comms response. Wow. Hell was thorough. as soon as she thought it, the boot screen gave her an all clear, and vision kicked in.

It was disorienting, just like after her first body-swap. The room she was in was very white, and there where men and women in matching white jumpsuits looking over her body. Her body was in front of her, in what looked like a very expensive cyber-maintenance chair. It looked in good order. There was some minor carbon scoring in some place she did not remember, but the torso had clearly been repaired.

More importantly, she was not in it. she was across the room looking at it. Now she understood hell.

"Hey, your awake." the voice came from a younger man, who had paused to glance down his data tablet. "I bet you thought you were toast. You surprised the marines, popping off one of your own grenades." He crouched down level with her vision. "Well, you're here now. Look, you want back in that monster rig over there? You'll get your chance."

Sharren's mind raced for a moment. she was not sure what they would do to her, but holding her body as collateral was terrifying.

"Calm down there lady" The man said. the UN wold not spend good money patching that thing up if they weren't gonna put you back into it." He stood up and walked over to the body. His had brushed it's elbow, like a new car salesman does to a sleek new model. "Your getting this back, it's just a matter of what we let you do with it. That however, is between you and the Commander." He smiled with a bit a malicious delight shining is his eyes.

Sharren reconsidered hell.

Comms load 15 - End drawing contest 2, begin contest 3!

OK, so we ended with just one entry for the Hawk & Keeva Contest. Thank you Justin! I liked this one. Keeva's clothes were awesome, especially. I like the pose too. It might have been fun to see her all black eyes, but, all in all, a solid piece.

Clothing is important in the setting, as it varies strongly from place to place, with Drifters and Haulers cultivating their own personal styles. I like the black widow bracelet. Very nerd chic.

So, to wrap up this art drive, lets start the next one! (or you can do this one and I'll add you submission, see load 13)

This time, we are looking for Sharren Vickers, a 7 foot tall cyborg killing machine. Think of her as a faceless armored demon, Her face replaced by a heavy armor plate, with pin-hole cameras spread over it rather than eyes.

To further distance her self from her humble human beginnings, her legs are set up different as well, with backwards knees. This give her impressive jumping ability, despite her weight. Sharren does not have many built in guns, but she does like her 14 mm assault rifle. She also like engaging in hand to hand fighting with normal humans, though this is a horribly unfair fight.

Thanks again for all you help!

Jesse Out.

Comms Load 14 - Glory days III

Rich loaded up a few choice items into the runnabout. It was an older model, a mercedes all wheel drive. It fit right in with the other beat up trucks and ATV runnabouts on the streets of landing city. With the 4 passengers and his crew, it was a tight squeeze.

Molly the intern rode on up front, squeezed between Richard and Doo Min Park, the ships head mechanic. Becca and Horse rode in back with the other 3 passengers. Rich liked the way the girl smelled. It was rare that rich got on with women so young. Or ones from earth.

Molly was 26, and in an advanced xenobiology program. Like most traveling kids from earth, her daddy was richer than bacon soup. The girl had spent over $ 200,000.00 UN to get out here, as well as 4 months on his ship. Her boss was out here to study the local wild life. Rich was more interested in studying her.

Tonight would likely be his last chance at that, so he figured a grand send off was in order.

The Green Knight, the lodge that he had chosen was only a few minutes deeper into the city. It looked much like the rest of landing city, durable prefab walls, dirty from 20 years of rain and wind, but other wise undamaged. The front doors had a scene of a knight in green armor beheading someone.

There were a handful of other vehicles outside. Nothing special, just the usual mix of ford and subaru electric trucks. It meant one important thing to Richard however. It meant that there would be locals drinking there tonight. Rich considered that to be free advertising. the sooner folks know that a merchant is in town, the sooner he can get down to business.

The interior of the bar was about the same as the outside, stout and worn, but well kept. It was early, the equvalent of 4pm, but the locals seemed to be in dinner mode. Most of the patrons were bent over plates of food, or enjoying a pale colored beer at the bar. Rich checked his Dattoo, it told him this was a bit early for dinner by local custom. Rich put it aside for later. He'd have to update his data on this system if custom had changed.

Rich looked over at Isaac, the college professor, and smiled. back to business, he thought.

"Isaac, let me buy you and yours one last meal. It's the least I can offer by way of farewell" Rich knew that Isaac would have to say yes, Earth folk a prickly about etiquette  Besides, he thought, this had been the most interesting group of passengers he'd ever moved. Or at least the most fun.

 "I suppose I'll accept" Isaac responded in his London accent. 

"Good, good" Richard smiled "Sort out a place for us to sit, and I'll arrange for some good food. YOur journey should end with better fare than protein cubes" Richard felt his own palate deserved a break from ship food as well. Those things get bland pretty quickly.

Richard sauntered over to the inn keeper, and put on his most winning smile. the  innkeep was not a fat man  which meant he was careful with his money. No splurging on food for him self.

"Hello, Richard Higgins, Cap'n of the Glory Days.  We just landed and were hoping to crash here while we did business in town." Richard felt confident, he had done this several times before, and usually got a good deal. The Innkeeper had a good poker face though, this might be tougher he thought.

"Carl Talent, " the inn keeper said, offering his hand. "I have rooms, but they ain't cheap. I get a lot of business here."

"No other ships in orbit, it can't be too crowed just now." Rich spoke freely, he figured the folks on parzifal were not the sort to mince words. "but to tell you what I think, I usually make pretty fair trades at the place I stay." He reached into his travel coat, and old all-weather duster, and pulled out a bottle of Capital Brewery porter, good stuff. "I brought several kegs of this from Orion on my last haul. I can show you the manifest and brew dates, it's good stuff" Richard handed the bottle to the Inn Keep, who looked it over carefully.

"Well, this may be worth some time in my rooms" Carl was smiling. Not the broad beaming smile of a child with a new toy, but certainly the smile of a man about to get paid. "You have a keg of it with you now?" he asked, opening the beer as he looked up.

"Tell me if you like it first. This bottle is on me" Rich replied. It always looks better to share samples freely. Carl took a short pull from the bottle, then a second, longer draw. He looked at the bottle again, regarding the art on the label.

"I like it" Carl replied. "I'll give you two rooms for two days for the keg, and call it fair. We really are crowded  Carl regarded Richard with cool eyes as he took a third pull from the bottle. This was the deal Richard wanted, so he saw no reason to get greedy with the man.

"Fair enough, provided I get a discount on tonight's dinner. Charge my crew as you will, but I have to feed a lot of folks tonight."

"I'll knock down the bill, but not by much. Foods getting short, and the main harvest looks like it won't be happening " Carl's face was still mellow, though the beer seemed to reaching him a little. Strong stuff.

"What's going on with the harvest? the welcome committee that met us at the pad implied the colony is having some serious trouble." Richard trailed off. Carl's face had taken on a different set, sad more than upset.

"See that rack?" Carl said, pointing at a gun rack near the door. It was full, with a few more leaning on the wall below it. "Nine months ago, you would have seen one or two pieces on there." Carls eyes drifted to one of the patrons that Richard had not paid much attention to. The man only had one arm. "Somethings got the Jackalopes stirred up, and the Apachesaurs have been coming in droves to hunt them. ain't even a little safe in the fields, and we kill four or five critters in the city every day. We've lost over a thousand people so far. it'll be Worse when we miss the harvest."

Rich let it sink in. that's a huge number of people. Clearly, there was a real problem here. Now, how to help and profit at the same time.....

Comms load 13 - Chimera drawing challange!

Hello my loyal following! The "Biggie" drawing contest has brought us one step closer to the goal of completing the RPG. I had two submissions, and here they are!

Nick has given us a highly detailed, high tech character with an abundance of storage places on his body armor. This guy would be on the rangy, thin side for a Biggie, but the drawing conveys the 7 foot height. Not all Biggies choose to work out and stay buff. Here we have an explorer/biologist, used to working in hostile environments. Nick completes the image of the explorer/scientist with a sensory enhancement/air filter mask.

Justin has given us a view of what the Biggies looked like after the reformation wars. This guy is in great shape, and has manged to get himself on the October page of 'Man!' magazine's charity calendar.  Seen here in a preserved section of old Chicago, Ip Cheng is trying to look "historic" and "sexy" at the same time. Yes, he is leaning on a blue mail box.

The rifle is a recent model from Colt, the HAR-89, firing the vaunted 12x130mm assault rifle cartridge.

I like both approaches; I think Nick had some great tech ideas, and Justin really nailed the sense of size. Comment and tell me your thoughts!

Biggies wear a bio-tech answer to early powered armor, used in the Reformation War as shock troopers. While they were not quick to produce, they were notably less expensive, and required far less maintanence than the powered exoskeltons of the day, and could operate in the field much, much longer.

No one ever thought they would be able to produce children (or that any baseline woman would be interested in trying it). However, after the wars, those that were transitioned into civilian life often had children, and the genes that make them so large are dominant. This led to the continuation of the line into modern times.

Standing 7 feet tall, and weighing in excess of 350 lbs, these guys can do some serious damage in a fight. However, their natural dexterity is not any better than a base line human's, and they are known to be a little dim (though this may be exaggerated by prejudice). Off of Earth, they tend to find work in mainly labor and security jobs, again, due to prejudice.

THANKS AGAIN GUYS! All caps, because I mean it!

Next Challenge - Hawk O'Hansen and/or Keeva "Smith." They're a couple.

Hawk: Description - Star ship pilot/owner who likes to wear cowboy hats, known for having a western flavor to his mode of dress, but still has a habit of wearing his ship suit while aboard his vessel, the Mike Tyson.  He's on the taller side, and has a sturdy, but not exaggerated build. He is ruggedly handsome, unscarred, and wears a smug look most of the time. His dattoo (data tattoo) is typically displaying a hawk on his left forearm when in screen saver mode.  He loves to fly, and favors a bit of a five o'clock shadow when Keeva is not around.

Keeva: An attractive woman, with strong, angular features. Dark hair with lighter highlights and jet black eyes (bio-grafted IR/UV/low-light adapted eyes, iris takes up all visible area) set her apart from the crowd. She is a Greyhound, and therefore in epic physical shape, and likes to show that off by wearing her ship suit open to reveal her...feminine assets. She has a collection of sunglasses to guard her sensitive eyes when ever she is planet side or in brighter ship environments.