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Quote of the Week: "A great civilization is not conquered from without until it has destroyed itself from within." - Will Durant, American historian (1885-1981)

Opening my eyes

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From a new prospective, Jedi Appear....
Duh, Heroic, no matter what! 0%  0%  [ 0 ]
Hokey Religions are not going to stand up to my blaster. 50%  50%  [ 2 ]
Kind of sinister, and frightening! 50%  50%  [ 2 ]
Your sorcerers ways don't impress us -ack- 0%  0%  [ 0 ]
Total votes : 4
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Magashi
 Post subject: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-03-18 12:53am 

Redshirt


Joined: 2002-09-13 08:20am
Posts: 22
Location: here, there, every where
It's late, Happy St. Patrick's Day! Here is something I had running through my mind, figured I would share it.

***
Light bursts and explodes in a thousand shades of colors, and I am aware. I look down, and see my three fingers begin to move at the impetus of my mind. I think, where am I? What am I? I look left, and I see ranks and rows of marching figures. I look to my right, and see the same as far as my eyes can see. I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs from it, what am I missing?

Guns? They are thrusting guns into our hands. I am holding a rifle? Where are we going? I look to the soldier to my right, and a garbled mess comes out of my mouth. The high pitched noise I just made sounds absolutely alien to my ears. I shake my head, and focus harder on vocalizing my concerns. "Where are we going? ROGER ROGER!"

My God? What was that, did I just say that? The soldier to my immediate right stares at me for a moment, his conical head tilted at a slight angle with the confusion he is clearly experiencing from my addressing him. A moment later, he replies in the same nasal pitch, "We are going to kill the Jedi!"

Jedi? What is a Jedi? Nothing makes any sense! We march, in unison, moving towards a large open gateway wide enough to fit a hundred of us abreast at a time. A red, sandy world looms beyond. I can hear gun fire, and I tighten my grip a little on my rifle. We are marching into combat. I look at my feet, my treacherous feet, moving with some sub-process of my mind I have limited control over. My feet move at the same measured cadence as that of all of those around me. I look for escape, I peer around, craning my neck as far as I can as I seek some way out of the inevitable battle, to fight people I don't know, for reasons I don't understand.

I can see ships landing, dozens of them. They are blasting beams of green light, swaths of death across ranks far ahead of me. It seems so surreal. So distant, as I watch the beige ranks far ahead get cut down in hails of fire and destruction. Every now and then, I can see monstrous shapes leaping from the shadows like things from nightmare. They wield glowing laser swords, some sort of coherent light beams. I watch their utterly inhuman motions, their speed, my God, such speed. They lead units of men in armor, and they are everywhere.

As I exit the massive doors, the battle truly envelops me. I am surrounded by shouting and screaming. Beams of light, energy blasts, missiles, grenades. The air is filled with a fusillade of destruction, and I join in as best as I can. My rifle is clumsy in my hands, clearly better suited to beings with 5 fingers. I find cover, and watch as larger versions of myself knock aside smaller versions of us. I look at the dusty ground where the others crawl to try to not get trampled by the charging forms of the larger ones. I hide, and I watch it all happen around me.

A massive sphere begins to lift, heading to the heavens, and I smile to myself, glad that at least someone will make it off of this sandy death trap. Alarm, and then terror suffuse me as beams of green light glide along its spherical surface, and explosions begin to rock its shape. For a moment, it stops, and I think maybe they will make it after all. Then I realize it is only that moment of free-fall before they are about to plummet back to the ground. I watch and wonder how many thousands of beings are about to die.

I watch in horror as clouds of dust erupt from the impact, covering everything and reducing visibility. I take aim with my rifle, and fire out at the figures in white. One by one, I assist my side, I don't know why we are fighting, but I can't let them slaughter us. I have to fight to live. The battlefield is a swirling maelstrom of confusion. The others like me, they seem to know what is happening, they seem to have a purpose and understand what is happening. I must be different, something must be wrong.

I pull several twitching forms of those like me to shelter, and make them as comfortable as I can. I rest my three fingered hand on ones chest as his last shudders pass, and he leaves me, his eyes darkening as consciousness and life flee his form. I take his extra rounds of ammo, and reload my weapon. I have a grim set to my features as I turn my attention again to the fields beyond. I can see a glowing saber, swirling through the dust. It is coming this way. I hold my rifle close, and watch as his energy sword bats bolt after bolt out of his path. I look from my rifle to the swinging beam sword, and shake my head. I look to one of the fallen white clad soldiers, and search his body. I can hear the sword, it hums.

I glance up, and wonder why they would make such a prominent weapon that makes such an unearthly noise? Clearly a tool to foment terror in their enemies. I watch as it slices one of my comrades in arm in half, leaving red tinged metal in its wake. I shudder involuntarily and focus to keep myself from falling into terror. I find a combat knife, cast away a couple of ration bars, and bring out a grappling launcher. I hurry back to the shelter, and I command those I have saved, "Stay down until this is over, you are out of the fight."

"What is your rank?"

"I am saving your lives, ROGER ROGER." Why the hell do I keep saying that???

"We will stay here until further orders, ROGER ROGER." I tilt my head to the side, it must be catching. Like a hiccup? No time, it gets closer. I look over the rocks, and I see the sword swinging low. I can hear the distant scream of the disabled being ended in this monsters wake. I sling my rifle over my back, and hurry out into the swirling dust. I see him, shrouded in dust and obscured by voluminous robes. His green blade ruthlessly cutting down those that had so recently marched at my side. I can see the distant flashes in the dust choked air, those flashes tell me that the fight is far from over.

I watch where he spins and whirls, striking down all that oppose him. He can swat bolts of our rifles out of the air, sometimes returning those volleys back to their originators. I wouldn't believe someone if they told me what I was watching with my own two eyes. I steady myself, and level my breathing. I take aim with the grappling gun, and just before I pull the trigger, I see his focus turn to me, aware of the danger my thoughts project. He moves towards me swiftly! Think!

I look down at a fallen friend on the ground, and shoot him with the grappling gun. The piton bites deeply into his dead chest. I run from cover, leading the monster away from the injured in my temporary shelter. He chases me, and I leap to the right as he swings to pursue. I dodge, and run, and roll, and he is on me, I can't out run him. He is like a thing from nightmares, but I still have my grappling hook playing out line as we spin and circle for several passes. He is on me, ready to strike, and I press the retract button on the grappling hook. His eyes widen as the device flies out of my hand, following the circuitous path of rope we have left around us. It smacks off of me twice, and tangles up in his legs. The strikes it dealt me ring into the valley, the strike it deals into the side of his knee makes a sickening crack, and makes him stumble forward.

Desperate, I remember his awareness to my hostile intention. I pull the combat knife, and hold it ready to strike down at my own chest. I then take a lumbering advance through the tightening ropes around us, until I feel my metallic chest press up and against his struggling form.

His sword is severing loops and loops of rope, freeing himself as my left hand holds him in a huge hug. I stare into his eyes, they glow faintly with some sort of aether-natural energy. I focus all of my will on bringing my right hand down and striking my chest with the knife. I pierce his form over and over again, not stopping until I hear the ring of metal on metal, and then I do it again. He slumps, and slides off of me to the ground. I stand there, shaking, clutching my dripping knife. I look back at the shelter I made, and the peering eyes of the soldiers who just watched what I did. I lean down, and pick up the hilt of the beam sword he dropped. I stare at it in my three-fingered hand, and grip it tightly as I continue. I look to the others, and I intone, "We have a war to win, those who can walk, follow me."
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Borgholio
 Post subject: Re: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-03-18 12:36pm 

Sith Marauder


Joined: 2010-09-03 09:31pm
Posts: 4241
Location: Southern California
A new and very interesting perspective. I like it. :)
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Magashi
 Post subject: Re: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-03-19 12:32am 

Redshirt


Joined: 2002-09-13 08:20am
Posts: 22
Location: here, there, every where
Geonosians stand on scaffolding, squawking in angry tones at one another, "I am telling you, I heard Poggle The Lesser say that the Republic has some sort of an army! Boron the Middle, listen to me!"

Boron shakes his head, monitoring the massive assembly lines of baktoid droids far below the pair on their perch. "Forinth The Greater, the politics don't matter. If we are making droids, if we are not making droids. It doesn't matter, all that matters is the job." Far below the assembly line is cranking out thousands of droids over the course of their short conversation. Boron presses a button and a droid is taken out of line.

The droid seems confused, moving its hands in front of its face, Boron slams a purge button, and the droid screams in horror as it is incinerated, and its melted components liquefy and are funneled back up the production line. Boron points down below, "We are part of a proud heritage, without quality control, Baktoid Workshop would not be renowned for our craftsmanship!"

Forinth scowls, "Craftsmanship? We fabricate most of the components on site, but the things we don't fabricate are bought from the lowest bidder. We make the Cadillac of space machines, and their governing software is farmed out from backwater armpit planets. How many intelligence inhibitors have we failed today alone? Perfectly good droids with a faulty neural pathways that ruin an otherwise perfect machine. It is absurd."

Boron pauses, looking back at Forinth, "We do our jobs, Forinth." Far below, a droid looking confused stares around itself in wonder as it passes their work area. Boron, distracted in their conversation does not take notice of the unit shooting by.

"We have to have intelligence inhibitors in our droids, we have to have the tried and true software installed without problems. If we don't, then there is no telling what we will be fielding out there." Boron pushes the separate and purge button a half dozen more times, until Forinth grasps his arm, his digits pressing against his exoskeleton.

"Did you ever think, Boron, that maybe there is more to all of this? The hive was fine before Poggle the Lesser signed us onto this Seperatist movement. The Republic has reigned for 25000 years, and life is good for the Geonosian people ... but I just have a bad feeling about this," Forinth shakes his head, looking concerned. Boron turns towards Forinth as a golden droid is carried across the air behind their platform.

Boron yells point blank, jabbing his fingers into Forinth's chest, "We are engineers, Forinth! We don't make decisions like what you insist on talking about, this is why we have elected officials, damn it!" Boron turns back, and angrily separates and purges several droids that nothing was wrong with.

Forinth taps Boron on the shoulder, "Seriously? You have your head buried in the sand so far that you can't come up for air to just talk about the rash decisions of our leadership caste?" Boron turns and snarls at Forinth in frustration. A blue and white astromech flies by with jets propelling it after the golden protocol droid farther below. As they push and shove at one another. The Golden Droid's head is knocked free, and its body falls into line with the assembly of the baktoids.

Dozens of droids pass below them, showing the signs of malfunction, as well as a golden droid with the head of a baktoid, and a baktoid body with the head of the golden droid. Boron snarls, "I am proud of my work here in Quality Control! It pays the bills, and gives me a sense of fulfillment that I make our products better by parsing out the errors!"

The building rocks and dust sifts down from far above. Both Genonoseans stop what they were doing, and stare up, as the Battle for Geonosis begins, and alarms foretell of a fight being brought to them.
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Magashi
 Post subject: Re: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-03-19 07:44pm 

Redshirt


Joined: 2002-09-13 08:20am
Posts: 22
Location: here, there, every where
Lets try adding to it. I started with first person, then followed it up with some Third Person Limited. Maybe toy around with some Second Person. And Thank you for the feedback, Borgholio :D

You have to understand something, before you say a thing. To be a successful Nemodian here, you have to go with the flow. You check the numbers, and check them twice. Before you put thought one on taking something off of the books, or fudging the numbers, you have to make sure you can balance the books to begin with. You can't cook if you don't know where everything goes in the kitchen. Avoid the rookie mistakes, I certainly don't have time to hold your hand on this.

You start here, with these files. You comb through them, and look for red flags. These are things that have been flagged upstream, and sent to us for clarification. Most likely its just a clerical error, sometimes, its out and out theft. You have to keep your eyes open, because if a red flag goes by, and you didn't mean for it to, and you don't have a very good reason for it, it can come back on you. You want to start off smashing those down like grubs, trust me.

These files, over here, are the bread and butter of this desk position. These are customer complaints about malfunctioning units. We here at Baktoid Workshops strive for excellence, and if there is one thing that we don't want, its a Baktoid Droid going crazy and doing things that might cause us problems. So. You review these complaints, and go by this list of key phrases in the complaints field.

Most of the time, you will have a pile of complaints about how they are performing in the field, or how dumb they are, that those are fine. We slide those down stream to Customer Service. No worries. Sometimes you will have crackpots that have some way out there complaint, and you have to use best judgement on those. Customer Service for most, Nemieodian Resources for others. If you see something that you feel you can handle personally, successful resolutions are noted in your file.

Now these things on this list. Baktoid doesn't know how to use the equipment he was shipped with. Baktoid is asking questions incessantly. Baktoid seems confused or disoriented. Baktoid is disobeying direct orders. Baktoid has inexplicably fled the field. All of these are for our Recall Destroy Reimburse department. They have to be fielded as soon as possible. We make a very dangerous product, that is the idea. However, it has to be dangerous on our terms. We don't want product acting in unforeseen ways when it gets fielded. It wouldn't do. Not at all.

Without the Intelligence inhibitors in place, without the governors over their ability to process things, what these units pick up in the field could change how they react if not for these strict controls. There would be no telling how they might react to combat, or people. We don't want to get a complaint that one of our units blew up a school bus full of children, it's bad press. Work hard, learn fast, and you will succeed here at Baktoid Workshops.
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Magashi
 Post subject: Re: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-04-23 12:12pm 

Redshirt


Joined: 2002-09-13 08:20am
Posts: 22
Location: here, there, every where
Fun and related article from Cracked.com. Good times

http://www.cracked.com/article_22320_6- ... paths.html
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Magashi
 Post subject: Re: Opening my eyes
PostPosted: 2015-04-23 01:08pm 

Redshirt


Joined: 2002-09-13 08:20am
Posts: 22
Location: here, there, every where
I had a few moments today, off from work and all of that, and figured I would come back for another swing at this little arc. Anyone feel free to throw out some feedback or suggestions, this is something I am doing for fun, as a mental exercise to view a different point of view to the prequel movies :)

For the time being, I think I will return to the first person style, and once more see the world through the eyes of our self-aware machine and hero.

***
His sword is severing loops and loops of rope, freeing himself as my left hand holds him in a huge hug. I stare into his eyes, they glow faintly with some sort of aether-natural energy. I focus all of my will on bringing my right hand down and striking my chest with the knife. I pierce his form over and over again, not stopping until I hear the ring of metal on metal, and then I do it again. He slumps, and slides off of me to the ground. I stand there, shaking, clutching my dripping knife. I look back at the shelter I made, and the peering eyes of the soldiers who just watched what I did. I lean down, and pick up the hilt of the beam sword he dropped. I stare at it in my three-fingered hand, and grip it tightly as I continue. I look to the others, and I intone, "We have a war to win, those who can walk, follow me."

As I move forward, wisps of greenish energy swirl off of the deactivated hilt as I attach it to the side of my utility belt I took from one of the fallen white-clad soldiers. I take a moment and look at my fingers, three clumsy looking digits, and I glance to the ordinance all around me, fallen from both sides. I hear shuffling, and my attention rises to look at the many soldiers I have saved.

I point around us, "We will need to collect as many of these weapons as we can." They look at each other for a moment, and then fall into step to follow my commands. I watch them shamble clumsily, and I take a moment to analyze the motions my own body makes. I move with a stiff waddle, a gait not made for efficacy. I practice walking back and forth as those around me follow my orders. As I move, I straighten myself, and correct my mincing shuffle.

I move over the same terrain again and again, replaying the agility my greatest adversary so far had used. His motions completely efficient, not waste in his motions. If I and my forces are to stand a chance, we need to become better. I look out over the battle field, and distantly see the swinging energy swords, explosions, and hails of laser fire through the dust choked clouds that this wasteland calls air. I stop one of the droids, and inquire, "Do you know where we are?"

"We have been deployed on Geonosis, sir." I look him over, noticing colored stripes on his arm, red stripes.

I indicate the stripes on his arm, "What do those stripes indicate, soldier?"

He stands a little straighter, and recites as if he were reading it from a card, "I am a security and assault droid, I have 3 red stripes to indicate that I have programming in hand to hand combat, ranged combat, and that I am competent in piloting ground based assault vehicles." I nod, thinking hard.

I indicate my arm, "What do these stripes mean?" I watch as those around us begin to gather back to me, dragging the injured and collecting the weapons in a pile. I point out, and indicate, "I want all gear from our enemies collected as well." They scurry off to fulfill my newest instruction, and my full attention turns back to the security droid.

"You have 2 yellow stripes, that means you are a command model, programmed with knowledge in all requisite weapons and are rated to use command vehicles. Roger, Roger." I nod slowly, my mind blindly fumbling through my memories, and finding nothing of what he describes.

I look at him as I kneel and begin sorting the retrieved weapons. Checking ammunition levels, looking at extra clips, and going through the various resources in front of me, my mind working out how everything works. "Why do we keep saying, 'roger?'" The security droid tilts his head to the side, confused by my question.

I use two grappling guns, and a pair of long hunks of metal to make a litter, and begin to move a few wounded droids onto it. I then line their sides with blasters, and inspect their limbs. "You are capable of using your hands, you will hold and use these weapons to fire at enemies at our rear, is that understood?" The droid seems incapable of vocal response, but nods, and readies the pair of weapons placed into his hands. I assign a pair of droids to drag the litter, and begin constructing a few more to drag our 2 dozen wounded.

Slowly, the security droid answers, "I don't know." I tilt my head to the side, staring at him for a time.

"That is a very slow reaction time to an unexpected question, soldier. That was almost a full 28 seconds. Is there any reason in particular that your reaction time is so terrible?"

"I am working within all Baktoid Workshops parameters, sir."

"Roger, Roger." Damnit, I did it again! I shake my head, and begin again, "What do I call you, soldier?"

"Security droid 189771B." I stare at him, and nod slowly.

"Alright, 71-B, what is my designation?" His head twitches, just a little.

"I am Security droid 189771B, you are Command Droid 77789V."

I smile inwardly, "Ah, progress 71-B. From now on, I am going to call you and you will refer to yourself as 71-B, for the sake of brevity. You will refer to me as 9-Volt, until a better moniker comes along, because those names are simply too long to be useful."

The security droid struggles with his thoughts and a few seconds later asks, "Why do you get a alpha-character name in your moniker, and I only have a letter?"

I actually laugh, "That is the first sign of individual thinking I have seen you put forward, very nice! How do you like 71-Beta?"

71-Beta stands a little straighter, proud of his compliment from his superior officer, "Thank you sir, I much prefer that." I nod, finishing enough litters to drag our fallen comrades forward. I have ensured everyone is armed, and carrying as much extra ammunition as possible.

71-Beta looks around, "9-Volt, what is the plan?"

I lock and load one of the larger sniper rifles left by our enemies, checking its scope. "We find a droid capable of enacting repairs on our injured members. We then reconnect with leadership, and determine if we continue the fight, or find an escape from the planet. We will secure resources as we move to improve our chances of success and survival. We need to move now, speed is our ally, staying still for too much longer will get us killed."

The column pushes forward, I align forces to protect the flanks of the litters, and align fields of fire to protect both the front and back of my column. We advance into the field, and attempt to avoid the worst of the engagements I can see. I aim and track with my rifle, taking my time, and slowly counting out my force.

I call a halt, and we take shelter under a destroyed pair of tanks with the emblems of our forces on it. A deactivated droid lies slumped out of the top of the first tank. I take stock aloud, "We have 24 damaged units, being pulled on 10 litters. 20 soldiers pulling the litters. 20 soldiers flanking our forward travel, counting all of us. 71-Beta, we have 64 soldiers in our column, do you think these tanks are salvageable?"

I watch as 71-Beta clambers aboard first one, and then the other tanks, checking out internal functions and systems. He hops down from the cab, shaking his head. "The power and ammunition cell on the first one is shot. The systems and interior seating on the second are beyond repair." I look between the two tanks.

"So if we pull the power/ammunition cell out of this one, can we replace the damaged one in the other?" I assign overwatch from the 18 other droids moving around us, setting up cover for us.

After almost 30 seconds, 71-Beta answers, "Yes, we could do that." I indicate the tank.

"Heave to, pull help from the litters, I will cover us while you get us a tank."

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/B1_battle_droid

http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Armored_Assault_Tank
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