Umallon Macross
Tronhadar Free Guard
Minmatar Republic
281
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Posted - 2012.08.08 07:34:00 -
[1] - Quote
I wrote this as a narrative account of an issue I have with the game, but it came out alright so I thought some of you might like to read it.
Link: https://forums.dust514.com/default.aspx?g=posts&m=238650#post238650
And I'll post it here as well in case clicking is too hard :-P
Connection Lost
It just seemed like any other drop. So many battlefields, they all seem to blur together, and this was no different than any other. The sharp edged Caldari architecture sliced open the beige sky just like on a thousand other worlds. I could taste the dust even through my suits atmospheric scrubbers. As the installation drop-pods slammed into the hard-packed, desiccated soil, I could feel a crescendo build up inside me, my blood singing the glories of a new dawn of battle.
Guns thunder. Mercs run. Rapid Deployment Vehicles deploy tanks and dropships. One of the RDV's hovers above me, and I step aside to allow it to deploy its precious cargo. It took days of the creeping, skittering spiders running across my synapses, re-wiring my mental pathways to hard-code in the operational data of this under-appreciated little war machine. My Charybdis gleams, factory fresh, in the harsh light of an unknown star.
I vault into the drivers seat, plug in my dropsuit's neural link, and run a quick systems check. My board is green. I start the engine via link, and grip the steering wheel in my gauntlet clad hands. Although it is possible to control all the functions of the light attack vehicle through the link, I prefer the tactile feedback provided through operation of the wheel, pedals, and other controls. I've heard rumors of pilot dropsuits in development with more integrated neural controls, but for now my augmented body and accelerated reflexes will have to suffice.
My Charybdis purrs to life, and I check my heads up but it seems none of my fellow mercs want a ride. I gun the engine and take off down the road, kicking up dust behind me and keeping a wary eye out for signs of the enemy. My team seem to have taken out the enemies forward defensive line and are contesting the first two objectives. I try to keep a low profile, my plan is to flank the enemy and, if possible, hack a clone reserve unit. I deftly work my way around the outskirts of the facility, avoiding potential hot-spots I've identified from available intel on the site.
As I approach the first CRU everything seems clear. I fishtail my Charybdis into the perfect position to give me cover while I interface with the control unit. I make a quick check to be sure I'm clear, assault rifle at ready, but still see no sign of the enemy, no tell-tale flicker of orange on my HUD. My dropsuits E-war package goes to work, infiltrating the layers of security preventing unauthorized access. While I'm hacking I'm almost completely exposed. My anxiety prompts my suit to inject more combat stims into my already flooded system and by the time the hack completes I'm ready to eviscerate anything that dares get in my way.
I disengage the link and whip around, expecting to be surrounded by enemy combatants baying for my blood, but I'm met with only wind-swirled dust and the echoes of gunfire from deeper inside the facility. I board my vehicle and prepare to move on the next target of opportunity. But then something goes horribly wrong.
My uplink goes haywire. The connection that allows my consciousness to be transferred to a new clone in the event of my death screams inside my head, a wailing hiss of static and junk data. As quickly as it came the interruption is gone. My uplink displays a message in my HUD: Connection Lost. But I'm still in my clone. I'm still sitting in my Charybdis. But I can't move. I'm aware of my surroundings, but I'm paralyzed.
A massive Sagaris HAV rolls past me. I guess its one of ours because an enemy would have taken advantage of an immobile LAV for sure. I start to scream but even my mouth won't respond. I wail and thrash locked in the prison of my own cloned body. The distinctive thunder of a forge guns sounds, its projectile travelling so fast it leaves a wake of glowing blue plasma. My Charybdis explodes into a glittering cloud of metal particles and fire, and I'm released from my clone and uploaded into the CRU network.
I still have no control. I can't wake up in a new clone and fulfil my contract. I'm trapped in this hellish limbo. A disembodied voice reminds me that if I do not fulfil the obligations of my contract it will be permanently marked against my career record. I watch the markers of my team-mates as they maneuver about the field. Eventually they are pushed back to the landing zone, the mission aborted. The data from the aborted mission floods across the network, and I'm subjected to another screeching hiss of static.
I wake up. The actinic glare of the lights, and the harsh antiseptic smell of the med-bay flood my senses. I call up my neocom and order a replacement Charybdis. An orderly clears her throat.
"The boss wants to see you." |