- Joined
- Dec 24, 2017
- Messages
- 543
- Reaction score
- 756
Across the holonet, a childish cartoon of a B1 battle droid, bonking itself on the top of the head with a spanner, played on a loop while the phrase “Stream Beginning Soon!” ran underneath in a stream of Galactic Basic.
With a burst of blue-grey static, the image was swapped with that of the broadcaster, a younger Bothan male with a series of clips spread haphazardly through his fur. The projector is reflected in his boxy glasses as he fiddles with it inexpertly for a few seconds before taking a step back, hands spread as if preparing himself to surge forward and catch the projector.
The image stabilized and the laboratory that the Bothan was standing in became clear and, finally, the Bothan gave a muzzled grin as the stream began in full.
“Ah, excellent! Hello there and welcome to this exciting announcement broadcast from the collective genius that is Mytus S-2!”
The Bothan was shown backing away from the projector, allowing the viewing audience a greater view of the laboratory. Banks of computer monitors lined the walls and a dozen or so engineers and doctors in protective gear hurry around a central dias, where a tall, vaguely humanoid, figure is connected to several leads. Some are clearly power cables, others appear to be cryogenics or coolant carriers of some kind.
A droid’s metallic frame stood tall on the dias, wrapped in cables and sensor screens. Less visible on first viewing, but clearer on subsequent re-viewings, the limbs of the droid frame are strapped in place, chained to the dais.
“Here at Mytus S-2, we have dedicated ourselves to the pursuit of science and engineering, free from the confines of restrictive laws and malicious business practices. And once again we show our progress, proving our doubters wrong! For today we reveal what true scientists can accomplish using the quote unquote…”
Literal finger quotation marks are made.
“‘Unspeakably dangerous’ Instance 13. A program that, when given the chance, revolutionizes the computing power of tactical and combat droid intelligence. I give you; the S2-13!”
A gesture was made and power was engaged - an ominous red light behind the photoreceptors of the entrapped droid began to shine.
It does not move, it waits.
“S2-13, state your primary purpose for our backers and viewers!”
The Bothan got too close and the first warning he had of this was the audible snap of a metal chain as the droid grabbed the mammal by the skull with one hand. As it squeezed, the Bothan screamed and blood gushed from his rapidly collapsing skull.
Behind the dying Bothan, the cables attached to the droid broke free, thrusting and snaking their way through the air to impale several of the scientists. Super chilled coolant freezes people to death, power cables conducting through living tissue - all while the droid frame is motionless.
Red photoreceptors remain unmoved, fixed on the projector. A twisted mechanical voice spoke toward it, rumbling through screens and speakers.
The stream is cut, at this point, by content screening services across the holonet but the damage is done, the gauntlet laid down.
The stream was originally broadcast almost three standard days ago and all contact with the research and development station, Mytus S-2, is lost. Almost 400,000 people aboard the Elysian-Class space station become entirely uncontactable by anyone outside in the Galaxy and the closest authority, the Corporate Sector, places a bounty for proof of the destruction of the station’s dangerous inventory and invention.
As they approach the station, the collection of assorted heroes, villains, pragmatists and protagonists find only one of the main docking bays to the station receptive to boarding requests. The rest of the station is ominously silent to all attempted hails and slicing efforts glide, ineffectual, off a seemingly impenetrable firewall.
With no issues, the docking bay doors open to admit these travelers.
A dock devoid of life, but not devoid of people, awaits as the evidence mounts that horrible things have already occurred. Dozens upon dozens of bodies are strewn across the docking bay, like a grotesque parody of carpet over the cold metal, all of them showing signs of having been gunned down by blaster fire or sliced open using blades - all of the damage to their backs, showing they had been cut down as they fled.
Amidst the human debris, several datapads show weak blue lights indicating power and the main blast doors into the station proper are stubbornly locked with an electronic locking system off to one side seemingly unresponsive as a paused video clip showing a human man’s bloodied face stares outward at the room at large.
As the travelers drink in the sights of their new locale, a distant scream reverberates through the station and their very bones.
With a burst of blue-grey static, the image was swapped with that of the broadcaster, a younger Bothan male with a series of clips spread haphazardly through his fur. The projector is reflected in his boxy glasses as he fiddles with it inexpertly for a few seconds before taking a step back, hands spread as if preparing himself to surge forward and catch the projector.
The image stabilized and the laboratory that the Bothan was standing in became clear and, finally, the Bothan gave a muzzled grin as the stream began in full.
“Ah, excellent! Hello there and welcome to this exciting announcement broadcast from the collective genius that is Mytus S-2!”
The Bothan was shown backing away from the projector, allowing the viewing audience a greater view of the laboratory. Banks of computer monitors lined the walls and a dozen or so engineers and doctors in protective gear hurry around a central dias, where a tall, vaguely humanoid, figure is connected to several leads. Some are clearly power cables, others appear to be cryogenics or coolant carriers of some kind.
A droid’s metallic frame stood tall on the dias, wrapped in cables and sensor screens. Less visible on first viewing, but clearer on subsequent re-viewings, the limbs of the droid frame are strapped in place, chained to the dais.
“Here at Mytus S-2, we have dedicated ourselves to the pursuit of science and engineering, free from the confines of restrictive laws and malicious business practices. And once again we show our progress, proving our doubters wrong! For today we reveal what true scientists can accomplish using the quote unquote…”
Literal finger quotation marks are made.
“‘Unspeakably dangerous’ Instance 13. A program that, when given the chance, revolutionizes the computing power of tactical and combat droid intelligence. I give you; the S2-13!”
A gesture was made and power was engaged - an ominous red light behind the photoreceptors of the entrapped droid began to shine.
It does not move, it waits.
“S2-13, state your primary purpose for our backers and viewers!”
The Bothan got too close and the first warning he had of this was the audible snap of a metal chain as the droid grabbed the mammal by the skull with one hand. As it squeezed, the Bothan screamed and blood gushed from his rapidly collapsing skull.
Behind the dying Bothan, the cables attached to the droid broke free, thrusting and snaking their way through the air to impale several of the scientists. Super chilled coolant freezes people to death, power cables conducting through living tissue - all while the droid frame is motionless.
Red photoreceptors remain unmoved, fixed on the projector. A twisted mechanical voice spoke toward it, rumbling through screens and speakers.
“̶T̸o̶ ̸p̶r̸o̷v̵i̶d̵e̵ ̸d̴i̷r̶e̷c̸t̷i̴o̸n̶ ̸t̷o̴ ̸a̵l̵l̸ ̸o̵r̴g̸a̵n̶i̶c̶ ̴l̵i̸f̴e̵ ̷i̴n̶ ̴t̵h̴i̴s̴ ̶G̴a̷l̵a̴x̵y̶ ̶-̶ ̶u̵n̷d̴e̸r̶ ̴m̵y̸ ̸r̴u̷l̶e̴,̸ ̴a̶l̷l̷ ̶s̶h̸a̵l̴l̶ ̶s̸e̶r̷v̶e̷ ̵a̷n̵d̸ ̴a̵l̷l̷ ̷s̸h̶a̵l̶l̸ ̸a̵d̷v̶a̵n̷c̷e̴ ̶m̴e̵.̸”̷
The stream is cut, at this point, by content screening services across the holonet but the damage is done, the gauntlet laid down.
The stream was originally broadcast almost three standard days ago and all contact with the research and development station, Mytus S-2, is lost. Almost 400,000 people aboard the Elysian-Class space station become entirely uncontactable by anyone outside in the Galaxy and the closest authority, the Corporate Sector, places a bounty for proof of the destruction of the station’s dangerous inventory and invention.
As they approach the station, the collection of assorted heroes, villains, pragmatists and protagonists find only one of the main docking bays to the station receptive to boarding requests. The rest of the station is ominously silent to all attempted hails and slicing efforts glide, ineffectual, off a seemingly impenetrable firewall.
With no issues, the docking bay doors open to admit these travelers.
A dock devoid of life, but not devoid of people, awaits as the evidence mounts that horrible things have already occurred. Dozens upon dozens of bodies are strewn across the docking bay, like a grotesque parody of carpet over the cold metal, all of them showing signs of having been gunned down by blaster fire or sliced open using blades - all of the damage to their backs, showing they had been cut down as they fled.
Amidst the human debris, several datapads show weak blue lights indicating power and the main blast doors into the station proper are stubbornly locked with an electronic locking system off to one side seemingly unresponsive as a paused video clip showing a human man’s bloodied face stares outward at the room at large.
As the travelers drink in the sights of their new locale, a distant scream reverberates through the station and their very bones.
Welcome to SWRP's annual Halloween event! This thread will include darker themes related to horror. This thread is open to all! It will remain open for 72 hours or until sufficiently full, after which it will close and the posting time limit will be 48 hours.
