THREAT
• YOU HAVE MY SYMPATHIES Xenomorphs, facehuggers, necromorphs, predators, whatever: the threat you're up against is some kind of being you've never seen before. Perhaps they're engineered somehow, perhaps they've evolved this way. Either way, I hope you can figure out how to kill them before they kill you.
• I'M AFRAID I CAN'T DO THAT Why the hell did we think building un-tethered AI was a good idea? Your threat is an android, or a ship's AI, or I don't know, a sentient race of evil ships that want to destroy all life and suck it into tubes to make a weird baby shaped ship. WHATEVER. The point is, technology is going against you. Can you beat out something with that much processing power? Maybe having bigger firepower will help.
• I LOVE... ROCKS Your threat is environmental. An exploding sun, an alien planet with an inhospitable atmosphere, your ship's life support systems have failed, your shuttle has gone down in flames. Can you cobble together some way to fix the problem before you all die?
• THIS IS NOT A RESCUE SHIP Screw the other problems, what you're up against are HUMANS. Or, you know, whatever species/race matches yours. We're not xeno-racist here. Anyway, you're being targeted by your own. Maybe you're in the way of a scientific development, or you've become expendable, or they want to take over your ship, or they're just plain evil.
• ABOUT 15 SECONDS Holy shit. Holy... shit. You were outside your ship making repairs and you got knocked off track. Maybe your fancy magnetic boots failed. Maybe some debris from your ship took you down with it. Either way, your space walk has become a space "holy shit help I'm going to get spaced, someone get me back on board." Try not to panic.
• WE'RE THE ENEMIES You've been out in space too long. Everything is going strange and everything is a threat. Is your space sickness psychological or physiological? Is it spreading? Is there a cure?
LOCATIONS
• PLANETSIDE Crash landed. In an outpost. Building a new life. You're on a planet not your own and things are going horribly wrong. What can you do when you have no way home?
• STATION SWEET STATION Whether you're out in your ship or in a streamlined space station, things are rotten in Denmark. You'd better fix that circuitry before you all die. Just a suggestion.
• THE GAPING MAW There's nothing around you and all you can hear is your breathing. Are you calm? Panicked? What's it like floating in the vast expanse of space?
• IT'S INEVITABLE You're lost in your own head. You can be anywhere, but maybe you're the threat because you've short-circuited from being in space too long. The mind can only take so much. Try to be gentle. Try to breathe. No one's after you, it's all in your head.
As always, these are just suggestions. Also, not all examples are strictly hard sci-fi but we do what we want in these parts. Make up anything you want, as long as you're having fun! |
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dousing) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
bakerstreet2017-03-01 12:08 pm
no subject
[ A brief flicker of his usual cocky grin, marred by how Noctis hasn't looked away from the doors. He inhales, a deep, steadying breath. They both know that he's usually the opposite of careless, that his game plan is always rushing in head first and dealing with the consequences later. The consequences have never been quite so final, but changing now will just mess him up, he figures, make him more off kilter than he already is.
That's no comfort to IGNIS, though, he's sure. He adds, voice a little softer: ]
I always make it out, too. Promise I won't change that up, either.
no subject
[ He wants to, at least, and that should count for just as much. Wanting it to be true should give him a chance, like Pinocchio wishing to be a real boy.
It costs him something he doesn't quite understand to unlock the Noct's outside. For once it's nothing to do with his programming, not the jarring sensation of doing something in such blatant contravention of his task to keep the crew safe. It's just Noct; sweet, brave, funny Noct, and the impending loss of him. But it seems churlish to dwell on his own opinion of the situation when Noctis is the one taking on all the risk, so he shoves the feeling down and away. ]
The door is unlocked. For when you're ready.
no subject
[ He doesn't give himself time to think, time to second guess anything. What other choice does he have? They've been through this already, this is the only option that gives him a chance of surviving this disaster.
It's a shitty option, but it's the only one nonetheless.
With a deep breath, Noctis slaps his hands against the door panel. A beat passes as the scanner reads his ID. A light flips over from red to green, and the cargo doors groan open. Noct steps inside and drops the bag of ammo with a thundering clang, head whipping from side to side as he searches for the thing. The doors slam shut behind him.
He doesn't see the creature at first. He has his gun up, leveled and ready, but there's nothing. Just the dim interior of the hold, the soft hum of coolant, the blinking of status lights. But the back of his neck prickles uncomfortably. He's sure it's here, watching him. Waiting.
He doesn't have to wait long.
Something hisses and the next thing he knows, a dark blob is upon him. Noctis shouts as he's pinned to the door, the thing leaning over him, black and gleaming. Shit, shit, this is just like how Khara died — as he watches, the thing unhinges its fucking jaws and that second— mouth, proboscis, what the fuck ever emerges, dripping viscous saliva, displaying vile, razor teeth.
Noctis pulls the trigger and the gun trapped between him and the thing explodes in a concussive blast. The thing goes flying, Noct slammed back against the wall, bruised all along his body by the kick. But at least he has space, and he curses as he gets eyes on the creature again.
It's bleeding, that odd, keening sound that he'd thought was equipment screaming at the shot coming from it. As he watches, the blood drips down its exoskeleton and sizzles as it hits the floor. ]
Fuck. IGNIS, it's—
[ He doesn't have time to finish, has to dive and roll for his bag as the thing lunges for him. The gun gets knocked from his hold, goes skidding across the deck plating, but it doesn't matter. His fingers close around a handle and he scrambles to his feet, hilt held in front of him.
As it comes at him again, he waits— waits, until it's almost upon him, and then he ignites the nanosword. The blade slices cleanly through the thing's armoring and Noct screams as the thing's blood splashes onto him, over his arm, across his chest, a few drops spattering onto his cheek. Fuck, fuck, it burns—
It hurts so much that he doesn't notice the thing's claw through his stomach until it rips it out, and then Noct's screaming again.
But it's dead. Dying, with a horrible, rattling sound, and Noct drops the sword, weakly kicks the creature away.
He stumbles back a few steps until he can collapse against the wall. ]
IGNIS? [ His voice is rough, raw with pain. ] You there?
no subject
I'm with you, Noct.
[ Clearing a path as he speaks, opening and closing doors for the fastest route, because Noct's vitals are all over the place and he's losing blood, and this cannot be allowed to happen. ]
You did well. Very well indeed. Just a little more, now, and then you can rest. I need you to get to medical.
no subject
Fuck. [ Quiet, not really meant for IGNIS to hear, and then Noct is silent for a long stretch of seconds, the only sound he makes his labored breathing. ] You always— nngh, have such high expectations.
[ Despite his attempt at levity, his voice is thick with pain, blurry around the edges, just like his vision. Everything's a little swimmy, lit a little too brightly, his vision spiking, and Noctis closes his eyes against the way the world is spinning, dips and dives that have him perilously close to throwing up.
But still, he scrabbles for a hold against the wall, trying to push himself up. Trying to do what IGNIS is telling him to, because it's about all he can concentrate on, IGNIS's voice familiar and reassuring. If IGNIS is saying it, it has to be done, he trusts that.
He's just not sure he can manage it. ]
no subject
He is dying. He will die unless he gets to medical, and bar some sort of miracle he would also kill himself with the exertion of getting there. Noctis is going to die, and IGNIS can offer him false hope or comfort, but he cannot prevent it. The realisation keeps IGNIS quiet rather longer than he'd like.
Finally, quietly: ]
Is it too much?
[ It's a question to which he already knows the answer, but if Noctis still has hope he should be allowed to keep it to the end. ]
no subject
Slowly, painfully, Noct reaches a hand up. He leaves a bloody streak on the wall as he scrabbles for a handhold, finally finds one in the form of a clamp meant to hold cargo. It'll do.
He wheezes as he pulls himself up. Spots are flashing over his eyes, he can't see a damn thing, and he can feel warm, wet blood under his shirt, but he makes it. Slowly, laboriously, he makes it to his feet. He's so dizzy that he can't move, has to close his eyes and breath through his nose until he doesn't feel so much like puking, but that's better than sitting there and just waiting to die.
Hoarse from the effort, he pants out: ]
I am having a really shitty day. Next time just let me sleep.
[ He pushes himself off the wall. One step, then another, limping. But that's two steps closer to medical than he was before. ]
no subject
[ It's pitiful, that all he has to offer is a joke. But until (unless) Noctis makes it to medical, it's all he can do. It doesn't help matters that he's halfway to thinking Noctis is right - if the creature had found its way to Noctis as he was, deep in sleep, chances are he'd have died none the wiser. None of this fear and pain, no having to drag himself along when his body must be begging him to stop. It almost seems like torture to ask him to keep moving, but while there's a chance IGNIS can't bear to suggest that he stop. ]
I'll try to interfere with the meal schedule when they get you to hospital. Care to place a breakfast order?
no subject
[ Low, the ragged attempt at laughter cut off by a sharp spike of pain. Noct presses hand to his side; it comes away wet, the blood hidden by his dark shirt, but he ignores it. He's bleeding out from plenty of places, one won't make a difference. If he stops to try to patch himself up, he knows he won't be able to start moving again.
His breath is wheezing as he drags himself along, gathering himself. But finally, finally, a red trail behind him in the corridor, crimson droplets on the floor, smears on the wall from where he's balancing himself, he gets enough breath to answer. ]
You know me, something sweet. No nutritional value at all.