Well, it's that time of the year once more -- the middle of July, which means beach house on LBI with Peggy's family for a week. Nail onto that a day
spent helping my family out, and I'll be off the Net from this Friday (18 July 2008) to Saturday 26 July. If I'm not mistaken, though, they rented the
same beach house as they have the last few years, and I know where the nearest Internet Cafe is. So I'll probably slide on at least once, if only to clear
out my email inbox.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

No, really. There's a limited-edition San-Diego-Comic-Con-only http://www.reghardware.co.uk/2008/07/15 ... n_toaster/]Cylon toaster out there. (Or, at least, there will be at the end of the month.)

I know it's a collectable, but $65 for a toaster seems a bit steep to me...
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

She couldn't see anything.

Then suddenly she could see everything.

The walls around her were stark metal and hardpoints, designed to be rebuilt quickly for whatever need was in them. Around her were medical diagnostics showing
a dozen different things she didn't quite understand. It reminded her of the hospitals on the other end of the medicomm. Had she gotten in over her head
with Crey? Finaly come to? Where was the doc...tor...

Her eyesight caught the bulky image of a Crey tank, an armored figure wearing the red pauldrons of a Power model. She'd had a run in with Crey,
alright...and they'd captured her. Oddly, she didn't seem to be restrained, even if her costume felt different. Maybe they expected she wouldn't
wake up yet.

"What's the readings?"

"Full integration seems to have taken hold. It'll take a couple more tests and we'll know for sure."

Vivian (that was her name...why'd she have trouble remembering that at first?) began the breathing exercises she'd learned a long time ago, building up
power for her nuke. After that, focusing the power into her body should provide enough time to escape this place before Crey knew she was gone in the chaos of
the explosion. However, one of the scientists looked over at a monitor as she neared release.

"Wait...no...she's awake! And focusing power!"

"Power dampeners are green, locking onto wavelengths....no effect?!"

"Powers are in the wrong spectrum!" the aide said, going pale as he checked the scanner

"Wrong spectrum?! You idiot! Didn't you check the gene coding?! Do you know what'll happen when she loses control?!" the scientist managed a
split second before Vivian let loose.

Instead of the blinding burst of light and energy she'd expected, Vivian felt her entire body drop five degrees as darkness poured out of her. The creeping
fog coated everything as it flooded along the floors, walls, and ceiling, extending outward. Vivian didn't know what was happening but the scientists fled
in terror as moaning, shrieking tentacles, jaws, and various other spikey extensions that denied easy classification began sliding out of the expanding
darkness.

Vivian, however, could hear the moans....and make sense of them for the first time, unlike when she'd fought alongside other heroes with dark based powers.

This one is strong, but untrained....we are free! Free to do as we wish with this place...with this world!

Yes...but first....so hungry....

All around the facility, gaps in the space of reality opened up as the darkness flooded in, drawing its strength from the very powerful but barely trained
heroine deep within...

***

John Wilkins was just putting up his smock and cryo-rifle, ready to go home and watch some football before coming back in the next day for another shift of
walking around Brickstown performing field medic duties. He didn't even see the rift forming behind him before tentacles with razor tips shot out, punching
through his chest and killing him instantly. The leaking blood didn't even spill into his cup of coffee as the tentacles gorged on it, soaking it up like a
sponge.

***

Sam Verner was testing out the new battery upgrades to his Power Tank suit in the armory when the rifts opened in the target bullseyes. His eyes widened as
moaning expanses of pitch black darkness surged towards him. Firing several blasts, he watched in horror as they sank into the mass with no effect, then
grunted as he felt an impact against his stomach. Looking down, he started screaming when he realized that there was nothing where his waist had previously continued to his legs. The darkness surged forward, ready to glut itself on the feast.

***

The first warning in the break room was, ironically, the coffee machine stopping in mid-cycle. One of the janitors got close enough to see the coffee congeal
into pitch black emanations of madness before it pulsed and shot out, punching through his skull and beginning to wriggle towards the others. Samantha Evertt
got out of the room in time as her coworker was snatched by the heel in mid run. She continued running, but unfortunately looked back in time to see the office
girl the next cubicle over get torn in two by tentacles that seemed to be arguing over her. Her glance was ill timed. She ran into a solid wall of blackness
and didn't come out. Red fluid leaked out of the base onto the floor....

***

At ground zero, Vivian Tucker curled into a ball, unwillingly tied to everything that was going on and hearing every blood-stained minute...
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."

Evangelions and at least some Angels are living, biological creatures.

Therefore, they possess chakra.

The results are left as an exercise for the reader.

--Sam

"Those who abandon their fellow Pilots are worse than trash!"

- log begins -

March 22, 2008

A.C. delivered the first group of androids I requested - two characters from each of three stories by my favorite manga writer, and one character from each of four other stories I like. I owe him a fair amount of money and a few favors now. Maybe he'd like some of this liquid handwavium I have left over from building the Epsilon Blade.

I've got the 'bots stored in the cargo bay of the EB for now.

April 1, 2008

Some of the handwavium I was keeping beside the 'bots has gelled. Weird.

April 2, 2008

Okay, that was very weird. I accidentally spilled the gelled handwavium on the Kohran 'bot, and her appearance shifted a bit where it landed. She's still Kohran, but she looks a lot more... human now. I tried applying some of the goop to the Sakura 'bot and got the same reaction. Now to rub the bodies all over with the gelled miracle goop and find out what happens.

Later: Same results with the other 'bots. I was half-afraid to see what results I'd get when I wondergooped the Skuld 'bot, but she looks just as human as the Sora 'bot.

I left the Yoriko 'bot for last. All the others, I could treat as a scientific experiment (even if it was a bit difficult staying clinical while wondergooping the Yayoi 'bot), but running my hands over Yoriko's body... her petite, pert, pretty body... I gotta go take a cold shower now. An ice-cold shower.

April 4, 2008

Started putting my space station together today, so entries may be less frequent from now on.

Only six of the androids are showing any signs of life: Agatha, Kohran, Natsuko, Sora, Yayoi, and (thank the gods!) Yoriko. I wonder whether this has anything to do with the fact that they all wear glasses, and none of the others do? I'm already starting to think of those six as "people" instead of "'bots". That might have something to do with it, too.

I've asked A.C. to hold my next order until I figure out why some of the 'bots aren't responding at all.

May 2, 2008

The other four 'bots are still inert. I moved them into long-term storage yesterday.

Damn. I really wanted Yoriko and Saori as a policewoman duo for my station, but it looks like I'm only getting Yoriko. (Mmmmmm... Yoriko... No! Focus, Noah! Where was I? Oh, right.)

A.C. says that the six that are responding are coming along nicely, though.

May 21, 2008

Sora woke up today! I spent three hours just talking with her. She's so wonderful - an intelligent being that didn't exist yesterday, and wouldn't exist today if it wasn't for me. And A.C. And Fujishima-sama. She's got three fathers, but no mother; people might think she's weird if they find out. So I'm not going to tell anyone that she's an AI.

Sora seems to speak Japanese as fluently as she speaks English. Now I really wish that the Takako 'bot would show some signs of life, so she could teach me the language, but that doesn't look like it's happening any time soon. If ever.

Later: I goofed. Big time. While I was enraptured by Sora, Agatha and Natsuko woke up. And... well... they saw that I liked Sora better than them. They both asked to leave me. I couldn't stop them - not without turning them into slaves, at least - so I gave each of them $5000, a cellphone, and an apology, and paid the Hermes Universal Deliveries folks to give them a ride to Starbase 1. (Not that I expect either of them to stay there; neither of them have the Trekkie mindset. But it was the first ship leaving my station, and they really wanted to leave right away.)

Damn. I'm going to miss them. And it's my fault that they've gone.

May 22, 2008

Korhan and Yoriko woke up today! I was careful not to make the same mistake with Yoriko... with either of them... that I made with Agatha and Natsuko.

Yoriko's got her English-dub actress' voice. Her accent is adorable. Hell, all of Yoriko is adorable. And she likes me! I have to build myself a private room, big enough for two - I'm not doing that in front of Sora. Right now, it's cold-shower time.

May 23, 2008

Yayoi woke up today! She's the only one who smiled as soon as she opened her eyes. A.C. says that's a good sign. I think maybe Yayoi likes me, too.

Later: She does, but not that way. Oh, well; I can't say I was surprised. At least she doesn't just like me for my spaceship, or my money.

June 16, 2008

I haven't updated this recently; I've been too busy trying to socialize the girls on my own and put my station together. But I've got some help now. And that's all I'm going to say here, in case this falls into the wrong hands.

July 12, 2008

That help's gone on his way. I was really getting to like him. So was Sora, for that matter; she gave him a going-away present. I felt proud of her... and that made me realize that I'm starting to think of her as my daughter.

I don't think of the others as my offspring, just Sora. Weird.

February 19, 2009

Has it really been seven months since my last log entry? I know why - it seems wrong to be keeping a log about my friends. And they are my friends. I can't think of them as "'bots" at all any more. And the title on this file - "Long-Term Autonomus AI Experiment" - is just wrong. So this'll probably be the last entry for a while, assuming I ever make another entry.

Yayoi's becoming friends with some of the Senshi girls. They seem to be a good influence on each other.

Sora's happy in the engine room of the 'Blade.

Korhan's happy in the lab I built for her, just off the Stellvia's hull. She can make things explode out there without putting my life at risk.

Yoriko... she and I enjoy each other's company. A lot.

I heard through the grapevine that Natsuko's working for the Helium Police Department now. (Right now, she is the Helium Police Department. Not that she'll care, but she'd better get some help soon.) She's a bit brisque, but from all accounts she's a damn good cop. So her personality's probably pretty close to what I expected.

I wonder what ever happened to Agatha? She seems to have dropped off the face of the Earth, or Mars, or Luna. I hope she's okay.

- log ends -

(In a moment of timing so perfect you could not have planned
it, Thibor hit 50 the instant the team flattened Tyrant in the Save Statesman's Red White and Blue backside mission. Cammy
hit 50 the evening before, Raisana a few missions before Thibor and Windy a few missions after. Jen I am sorry Raisana is in the background for much of
this, I don't know enough about her characterization to write her effectively.

So here's a quick story to celebrate.

(While I recognize the dynamics of the MMO experience take precedence over the genre, I still find it somewhat annoying that all the AVs are so overwhelming
that only a large team and several minutes of extensive button clicking can bring them down. While it fits the MMO model well, it makes for piss poor
storytelling.)

Thoom!



Thibor slammed into the pillar with enough force to flatten
a rhinoceros to the thickness of a toaster pastry, including the homogenous, red, squirty, filling. He flopped forward
onto the cold, stone his ears ringing like Quasimodo himself had taken up residence in his head.



"Pathetic weaklings!" Tyrant boomed. The huge man stamped a foot, sending forth a shockwave that blew Raisana,
Cammy and Windy back like dolls. Thibor spat out a mouthful of blood, counted the white, pointed, teeth in the puddle
twice, to confirm that he was not concussed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Tyrant took a step towards them, his
chiseled features caught up in an arrogant sneer.



Perhaps it was not arrogance. He had every reason to be confident. He was supremely powerful, practically glowing with
the other worldly powers that fuelled his insane strength and total invulnerability. So arrogant was probably not
accurate. Asshole. That worked.



"I think we upset him." Windy noted, her blonde hair shifting as eddies of wind and mist wrapped around her body.



"Rather."
Cammy added, brushing the back of a heavy gauntlet across her jaw, where a largish, purple bruise was rapidly spreading.
They had been pounding rather futilely on Tyrant for some time, but had been unable to overcome his astounding invulnerability. "I am considering calling a tactical retreat. Major?"



"Not yet."
Thibor cocked his head to the side and shook it slightly, hoping to dump the chief hunchback in charge of tintinnabulation out of his ear, where the little
bastard could be conclusively stepped on. "Is noticing something when is being hit."



"Oh, well done Major." Cammy smiled at the almost imperceptible tilt of Thibor's muzzle as he indicated the wall behind Tyrant's
throne. Bound up in bands of glowing energy, Paragon's signature hero, Statesman, hung insensate. He could have been Tyrant's twin, but that was no entirely accurate. They were the
same person, each from a different dimensional reality, each imbued with enough power to rival any god you could care to mention or call out to in a moment of
stress. When Tyrant has slammed Thibor, the glow surrounding the chains had faded ever so slightly. "Shall we put it to the test?"



"Windy. Job
opportunity." Thibor growled, taking in the situation. Tyrant was
advancing and a large crowd of his enhanced minion were closing in with what could only be described as dread intent.
All four heroes exchanged a glance and nodded. It was not a good situation.
For Tyrant and his minions.



"Miss Day.
Please attempt to revive Statesman. Raisana, you and I shall deal with these extra dimensional football
hooligans." Cammy noted crisply, adjusting her beret to the proper jaunty angle.
"Major, at the risk of sounding cliché, Sic 'em."



"Affirmative."
Thibor smiled, revealing a full set of teeth, the empty gaps having filled in as his flesh regenerated.
"Is mine."



"Oh you haven't marked him, have
you?" Windy made a disgusted face. "Bad dog."



Tyrant ran forward, raising both fists to slam down on the
werewolf, with every intention of crushing him like a beer can. Thibor feinted as if to jump away then charged forward,
under the blow, catching Tyrant around the waist and driving him back into the throne, reducing the stone chair to fragments.
Tyrant tossed Thibor away as if the werewolf were a stuffed toy. It gave Windy the opportunity she needed. The
storm mistress flew forward, over the prone Tyrant and pressed against Statesman, increasing the density of oxygen in her immediate vicinity, and feeding it
into him in a motion that could be, at best, construed as enthusiastic artificial respiration.



Statesman's eyes flickered open as he drew in a deep
breath. His burning glare took in the situation. Under the skin tight costume,
huge muscles flexed and strained against the restraints that bound him.



"I shall kill you all!" Tyrant roared, turning on Windy. "How dare you meddle with my plans!"



"Oh do shut up."
Cammy said dryly as she casually dispatched a minion with a crescent kick. The glow surrounding the chains
binding Statesman glowed brightly as the hero turned his undeniable strength against them. It was subtle, but easily
observable if you looked for it. Tyrant had bound his own power to the chains, his power being the only thing
sufficient to restrain the hero, and the strain that Statesman was putting on them was weakening him. The only question
that remained was how much. In the spirit of experimentation she slipped the spetzer knife from her belt and triggered
the blade release. The heavy spring projected the razor sharp blade at Tyrant with incredible speed. The blade bounced harmlessly off one spandex and leather sheathed buttock, but Tyrant turned towards her, anger flaring in his
eyes. Cammy tossed him a casual salute with just a hint of a condescending smile.
It was a perfectly executed maneuver; the very epitome of understated British insult. It worked. Tyrant was momentarily distracted from twisting Windy into a blonde pretzel.



Thibor hit him in that moment of distraction, clawed fingers
grasping and digging into Tyrant's shoulders. Where previously the claws had been turned aside by unbreakable skin,
they pierced through. Tyrant's eyes widened in pain and then bulged as Thibor slammed a knee upwards, slamming it
into the villain's plexus with terrible force. Thibor's jaws gaped and fastened around Tyrant's helmet,
twisting it off the villains head with powerful jerk. Tyrant managed to push the werewolf away with a backhanded
blow.



"You… injured me."
Tyrant glanced at the small trickles of blood on his shoulders.



"And is saying can't teach old dog new
tricks." Thibor barked back, casually spitting the helmet into the face of an approaching minion, sending the man
tumbling back. "Is having two choices. Can beg, or can roll over and play
dead."



"Never."
Tyrant hissed. "This dimension shall be mine. Do you scuttling insects
think you can stand up against me?"



There is something inherently pure about the straight right
to the face. While there are more effective punches; more devastating martial techniques; the straight right to the
face still stands out. Perhaps it is the simplicity; harkening back to the days of John Wayne, where problems could be
solved with guns, but were better addressed by the straight right to the face.



Tyrant's head snapped back as Thibor demonstrated as
near to perfect a straight right to the face as there was. The punch drawing power up from the ground, magnifying it
through the hips, driving it forward through the shoulder and delivering it straight into the nose. The nose broke with
an audible crack. Twin geysers of blood shot out to stain the front of Tyrant's uniform. He gaped for just a moment. His brain awash in pain.
His eyes tearing ever so slightly. Perhaps he wanted to say something in honour of the moment, to acknowledge
in some small way the role the straight right to the face played in bad westerns and super heroic battles.



He never got the chance.



"Cannon Spike!"
Cammy vaulted over Thibor's shoulder, driving her combat boots into the bloody mess formerly known as Tyrant's nose. She back flipped away from the impact, landed gracefully and foot swept a minion that was positioning himself for a shot at
Raisana's flank.



The time for purity was over and the time for purely
practical dawned like the Age of Aquarius. Perhaps the sun did indeed shine in; and it would certainly have sufficient
opportunity to do as Thibor methodically tore Tyrant a new one. Several new ones.
If there were a few square inches of Tyrant's thoroughly battered body that did not have a new one torn in them, it could be considered a great
boon of fortune by the spared span of skin. There was never a let up, not even a second, for Tyrant to collect his
shattered senses and take back the upper hand of the fight. Thibor alternated punches with punishing elbow strike and
knees; careful not to punish the same part twice. Each blow was a new pain, a fresh and screaming distraction followed
instants later by another, and then another. It was not a fast process. Perhaps
thirty seconds of pain filled eternity, culminating with Thibor slamming the limp and boneless Tyrant teeth first into a fragment of rock, while loudly singing
Maxwell's Silver manner, ensuring that each enamel shattering impact coincided with the Bang! Bang! Of the chorus.



As the last vestiges of Tyrant's spluttering
consciousness fled like roaches before light, the chains binding Statesman broke, falling away. The Hero inhaled deeply
and floated down to the ground.



"Thank you for the rescue Heroes! Your rescue is well
appreciated." He boomed with a hearty voice. He glanced over to where
Thibor was still engaged in an enthusiastic stomping of Tyrant. "If perhaps excessive…"

http://forum.rpg.net/showthread.php?t=404565

Quote:

Most civilian craft that escaped the destruction of the Twelve Colonies were at the rally point set by President Roslin. However, out on the fringes of the
colonies, another rally point was broadcast. The smugglers, pirates and fugitives that congregated in and around Hera and the outer reaches of the colonies
maintained a certain 'honour among thieves,' and kept their own broadcast codes, which allowed those outside the law to communicate without the
authorities being able to figure out what they were saying. Sure, the authorities would break every code eventually, but the codes changed every few months,
often in ways that were designed to trick the authorities into believing that a previous code was still being used. It was in this smugglers' code that
the second rally point was broadcast.




I want you to help me build the fleet of ships that responded to this broadcast. I've given a few examples below of the types of suggestions that I'm
looking for, but I'd like to set a few additional guidelines as well:




- This is for a campaign that runs parallel to the main BSG story, but for the most part, won't intersect with it.


- All suggestions should be for the sort of ship that would have been able to decode the broadcast; in other words, ships crewed by people from the
underworld and the fringes of society. Think more Firefly than standard BSG.


- No Battlestars, battleships, hijacked experimental military superships, etc. I want this to be a campaign where the PCs have to survive with only their
wits and don't have the option of going head-to-head with a cylon basestar.

As something that had escaped my notice, I thought it might be wise to make note than next weekend begins another Double XP weekend. Just in case it had escaped you as well:

The time is nigh, begin your planning!
---

The Master said: "It is all in vain! I have never yet seen a man who can perceive his own faults and bring the charge home against himself."

>Analects: Book V, Chaper XXVI

I can't quite recall (nor find a list of) all the (real) rules for the Death Notes; in particular, I'm trying to remember if there were any limits on
the causes of death one can specify. The reason I ask is this: picture a wielder writing any of these as a cause of death for a victim:

•Vaporized by atomic blast

•Airborne Ebola

•Torn apart by zombies (could be a brief crossover with Romero series/Resident Evil/28 Days Later/etc.)

and the one that was the root of the idea:

•Disintegrated by alien invaders

--The Twisted One

Because you can't use the term "black hole" anymore - from The Dallas Morning News:

Quote: Commissioner Kenneth Mayfield, who is white, said it seemed that central collections "has become a black hole" because paperwork reportedly has
become lost in the office.




Commissioner John Wiley Price, who is black, interrupted him with a loud "Excuse me!" He then corrected his colleague, saying the office has become
a "white hole."




That prompted Judge Thomas Jones, who is black, to demand an apology from Mayfield for his racially insensitive analogy.




Mayfield shot back that it was a figure of speech and a science term. A black hole, according to Webster's, is perhaps "the invisible remains of a
collapsed star, with an intense gravitational field from which neither light nor matter can escape."