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Old 06-29-2018, 05:45 PM   #11
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Burst the lungs and the heart.

"A white-haired hermit of an unknown name who lived among the monkeys had come out of his cave that night for a walk to contemplate the stones and the sky, when a Shaolin monk suddenly walked in his path proudly and with great strides in the opposite direction.

The hermit, in a gesture of unusual cordiality, raised a hand in greeting. The shaolin monk did not return it. Had it been the monk's intention to disrespect him, or perhaps he did not see the friendly gesture of the hermit? The reasons for the facts are unknown, but the consequences are known.

The next morning, the white-haired hermit appeared in front of the Shaolin temple and demanded from the supreme master a friendly fight to settle the insult. The supreme master and his instructors were firmly opposed to grant him the fight and tried affectionately and by all means at their disposal to console him, but they discovered very quickly that the hermit was inconsolable.

This is how the massacre of the temple in which twenty Shaolin monks died at the hands of the white-haired youth took place, and thus was born the legend of Hakka Bak-Mei and his dragon touch to burst the lungs and the heart: The most lethal attack of all martial arts."


Folk Tales of Mount Emei.
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Old 06-30-2018, 10:06 AM   #12
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Failed prototypes.

Imagine spending the day surrounded by the dead. Imagine working with oxygen masks to ward off the stench of rotten pickled human flesh.

Dozens of unviable embryo corpses scattered on the shelves inside formaldehyde jars. Deformed bodies under artificial light that are very difficult not to look at each step, which you have to look closely, which you even have to examine with your own hands.

The most revolutionary science greets you: Welcome to the secret center of vertical genetic experimentation of the corporation. Welcome to the dump of human waste in which the failed prototypes are stacked.


Anonymous notes.
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Old 06-30-2018, 02:36 PM   #13
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Squatter at home.

And there I was again. Another night. Another day. Facing an impossible. An insignificance if viewed from an evolutionary perspective. A single night.

It had several minutes, or maybe hours, while I was sensing that something was changing ... The symbiotic relationship. Perhaps the result of chance, perhaps of good luck, the last strain had made the disease fall into my hands.

Surely others had tried to find success with similar theories, until my theory got it with me. And there I was. Another night. Another day. Locked. In solitary confinement. With artificial light. With laboratory oxygen. Doing what I did best: Stealing Nature's protagonism to offer it to my own creations.

I could not get out of there. I did not want to. I had lost many of the initial prototypes. They were very good theoretically, but most of them were useless. I had become a slave to the project. His servant. I became the project itself. Cancer had a squatter at home. And the squatter would eat it.


Adam Sephard's laboratory notes.
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Old 06-30-2018, 03:12 PM   #14
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Stories to go to sleep.

Abernathy has done it again. Thanks to the VR Night Suit ™, Angie Technologies wants to present new and unlimited content so that the little ones go peacefully to sleep.

This is the new "Angie's Tales to go to sleep", a series of amazing virtual creations and a world beyond the four walls of the bedroom to which the little ones can be transported thanks to their pajamas.

In the "Angie's Tales to go to sleep" world and, thanks to countless scenarios and characters, as well as superb songs and stories, the youngest of the house can literally enter the stories and have the best rest always accompanied by all their favorite persons.


Brad Pitt, American actor and film producer.
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Old 07-01-2018, 01:48 AM   #15
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I was left with the desire.

Edward visited me at dusk, hiding himself from the continuous persecution of women seeking successful men.

The beloved and disgusting Edward, insipid recipient of the greatest dose of self-love that the world can conceive. Right after he overconfidently proposed me to get married and before I even answered, he wanted to know if I had planned to have sex before the wedding night.

"With you?"

I answered him ironically as I laughed out loud at him and saw his face twist. He probably did not like my answer very much, because at that moment he ended his proposal of marriage and left the room slamming the door.

Edward's discreet question was evidently born out of my brazen flirting with Rafael the night before, which had led to a public marriage proposal that flowed by word of mouth all over Inverness, spurred undoubtedly by his family's clear interest in that his proposal did not have a happy ending.

With the beloved Edward I would have sailed from party to party the seas of royalty, where ignorant and proud women allow themselves the luxury of being stupid. With the disgusting Edward I would have become the beloved wife of a prince. Surely I would write less theories and drink more champagne. My brain would be filled with bubbles and lovers instead of diseases and pharmaceutical chemistry. I did not miss it much.

I go out into the yard and look for the boy, who today also came to see me at dawn to discuss the uses of bacteriophages and plasmids. Maybe later I dare to tell him about myself. As a child I went to the most elite universities in England and studied computer programming when I got bored with biochemistry.

The first time I saw the boy, his muscular body, those features that could win everyone and a voice that seemed out of another world, I thought that the shadow of Avicenna had gotten into his body and was making fun of me.

He was a cheerful companion, something hyperactive, capable of getting everything out of anyone. But not out of me. All boredom, no matter how deep it was, he destroyed it with jokes and flirtations, like a god capable of passing over all human weakness, utterly destroying them.

With him, a girl could reanimate intelligence, heat her spirit in the fire of life ... So, when he left without warning several weeks later and without having proposed anything to me, I was left with the desire to humiliate him as everyone else.


Audio-Diary of Eve Medici.
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Old 07-01-2018, 01:51 AM   #16
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That caprice.

She meandered famished. It was not hunger that drove her but the desire to cheat a prey, to feel her prey convulsing and shrinking in agony as the tiny spark of hope vanished.

And it happened again. Another prey arose from the dance floor and went emboldened toward her, or maybe even convinced? Yes. There was a lot of clumsiness in the prey. And some cruelty in the huntress. I could feel it. And anyway she was clearly attentive, watching me.

I pretended to be distracted and the prey vanished following the indications of a contemptuous gesture and an imperious hand that ordered it with the accompaniment of a sardonic laugh that, despite the intentions, was like music to the ears.

That had been one more of her rudeness. She was a genius. Yes. And she was beautiful. But she was also a sadistic one. And callous. Very callous. I recalled her body, naked, above me, looking for me while her precious eyes met mine. I could not consent it. I lent her my lab coat and apologized for having stumbled even though everything had been orchestrated by her from the beginning.

Did it really happen? I seemed self-absorbed, deranged, with the same stupid gesture of curiosity as the other times. I could not get rid of those eyes, those lips, her sarcastic laugh. I could not take my mind off the terrible action that I had seen her consummate only a few days ago and that, without a doubt, had been her wildest one.

While I watched that nobody noticed, I cleaned everything very well. I was used to it. There were not even dust particles on the bed or the sofa. I had to recognize it, I cleaned very well, and what a speed. In addition, it was a pleasant novelty that my partner was not there to let me have a sermon for doing things too quickly.

Maybe, deep down, I was not angry at all. Maybe I was just grateful to be able to leave to forget that caprice as soon as possible. That girl who skipped on me and, asking me? Demanding me, what?


Excerpts from Adam Sepherd's diary.
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Old 07-01-2018, 06:17 AM   #17
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No more irresponsible wars.

We live in community. We have fun at Community. In short, how to know for sure which is actually better? That is, which is more real in the end for people? You understand me?

The gorgeous young woman said from the waiting room.

That bitch is one of a kind.

Commented one of the technicians from the control room.

Remember that if one day she got up bored in the morning she could buy the whole network.

Her immediate supervisor indicated.

And for what? The very bitch bursts the audience and gets tens of millions of views in a single broadcast.

She answered again while Abernathy entered and greeted the audience very charismatically.

Community, the simulation environment par excellence where the players do not control animated three-dimensional characters but authentic living human beings. They make them dance, argue, copulate. In Community they juice and rock them.

The presenter of the program summarized.

We will have that on the sweatshirts.

The guest answered making the audience laugh.

The creation of the philanthropist genius Angela Abernathy, Community, had a resounding success, christening itself as the number one international pleasure for millions of people, producing along with Angie's Tales one of the largest private fortunes in the world and hitting a heavy blow to Bill Gates, Larry Ellison and Mark Zuckerberg practically overnight.

Elizabeth Vargas explained while the young woman smiled showing pearly white and perfectly aligned teeth.

Community.

Abernathy concluded by shrugging her shoulders with an honest gesture of humility that was celebrated by the audience.

Why is not it considered slavery?

The questioned broadened her smile.

Have you seen many people volunteering to be enslaved? You already know that all our avatars are voluntary participants and they do not stop having the alternative of working and breaking their backs to make a living. ****, ours is not a bad deal.

The listeners broke into laughter between cheers and applause, and even the presenter needed to hide a fleeting smile covering her mouth with her hand.

I remind your audience that Community was developed with the cooperation of the United Nations, that with the income it generates, countless global programs to combat unemployment are financed and that its parameters were approved by a solid 78% of the US government.

The presenter verified the data on the screen while nodding a little intimidated and still smiling.

Well, Miss Abernathy, how the hell does it work?

She wanted to know by stirring in her seat and without hiding a thirsty expression of curiosity while some timid laughs in the background were heard.

It starts with a single nanoimplant in the motor cortex of the brain. Said nanoimplant communicates with the cells that it has around. And those perfectly interconnected cells guarantee the telecommunication functionality. Therefore, cortex plus nano equal to cortexna.

The sympathetic creator detailed while several three-dimensional and computer-generated images accompanied the explanation.

Oh, well, what a relief!

Elizabeth answered with an ironic tone.

For some it may be. Do not you think that many problems could be avoided with a little control? Let someone else make the hard decisions for you. Without impossible choices with disastrous consequences. No more irresponsible wars. Think about it.

The host of the program remained silent for a moment, letting the young creator's words take effect before the end.

We'll do that, Miss Abernathy. I promise you.


Interview with Angela Abernathy conducted by Elizabeth Vargas for the 20/20 program.
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Old 07-02-2018, 10:22 AM   #18
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The man was me.

The engineer was surprised. It was impossible to analyze such a design without the help of a computer, and yet the girl simply looked at it. Would he have a computer implanted in his skull, or had he done nothing more than study, invent, and analyze electronic designs all his life? Did Mozart understand them as the symphonies notation?

I am going to be fired?

He asked in a broken voice as he struggled to make himself look confident.

It is very possible. Or maybe I'll promote you.

The young woman answered. The engineer felt a lump in his throat, afraid for his future.

Will you dismantle it completely?

A beautiful and fleeting smile lit the girl's face as she turned on the machine.

There are limits that my madness can not penetrate. And I am happy. It leaves me more calm. Jesus!

She exclaimed authoritatively.

Yes, mother.

The robot's head turned towards her.

How many times have you disconnected yourself and what have you seen?

She asked urgently.

Every night, mother. It is at night and everything is dark when suddenly a light appears from nowhere and I begin to see things that have no place in reality. I hear things. I react in a strange way.

The automaton explained.

I have not known how to find it but I think there is a flaw in the design of the brain and ...

The engineer started saying.

Or a dream of electric sheep, what do you see and what do you hear, Jesus?

The girl interrupted.

Almost always the same, mother. The details are different. At the beginning there are no human beings, there are robots working. Some playing chefs and others cleaning. I see some in hospitals and others on the big screen.

The engineer turned to the robot.

Jesus has less than a week and I am totally sure that he has never left the laboratory, how does it know so many things?

He asked, overwhelmed and looking for a place to sit.

It seemed important to me that it knew something about its own nature and its place in the world.

The girl declared holding the droid's hand.

I also saw many trees in a forest. The interior of the earth. The bottom of the sea and outer space.

The machine kept saying.

Jesus. Now you will turn off. You will not talk. You will not hear. You will not do anything until I pronounce your name.

And the machine once again became an expressionless, immobile metal sculpture.

Dr. Abernathy, I'm horrified. I had no idea and it never occurred to me that this was even possible.

The employee began to explain with his eyes bulging and his heart running a thousand miles an hour.

This would have happened as they assimilated more and more complex information ... If you had not put us on notice. You acted irresponsibly, but in doing so, you helped us discover something incredibly important. From now on we will reformulate the Saussurean algorithm carefully. You will participate in it and you will not be punished. I'll double your salary.

The engineer breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank you very much, dra. Abernathy. And what will happen to Jesus?

He asked as he watched the droid.

Well, it depends on how dangerous it is. Let's find out. Jesus?

The robotic skull came back on.

I listen to you, mother.

The automaton responded instantly.

How did the dream end? You said that at the beginning there were no human beings, did they appear later?

She inquired, letting herself be overcome by curiosity.

Yes, mother. Almost at the end of the whole dream, a crowd of humans suddenly appeared that commanded the robots, and then a man among them. And the man shouted: "Give me freedom or give me death, set my people free!".

Dr. Abernathy nodded, still smiling.

And did you ever discover who was that man in your dream?

Yes, mother. I knew him.

Who was then?

The man was me.

Angela Abernathy closed her eyes briefly and, instantly, the robot Jesus went out.


Office rumors.
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Old 01-02-2019, 09:11 AM   #19
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Reserved for an update.
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Old 01-02-2019, 09:18 AM   #20
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This forum is meant for roleplaying games. If you get around to actually soliciting players for your game, you are welcome to start a new thread, but as you haven't done so in the preceding six months, this thread is closed.

Edit: On reflection, there's nothing wrong with wanting to get feedback on a campaign background -- the thread was misplaced, not actually bad. So I've moved it and reopened it for comments.
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