CureZen

So I've recently bought the Machine Race and like a good little recently emancipated slave I read up on the wiki and found that I'm to rely on robotics for most of my near death or after death health concerns. This has led me to my current realization: Robotics is god damn useless to the public. Like seriously, robotics is the 16 year old albino shade of pasty white shut-in wearing a shirt they're uncomfortable in; building cup towers in the corner of the party while waiting for his grandma to pick him up; because he lost track of his drunken friend who only brought him because he's known him since middle school and felt bad for him. Like Got Dayum. Of the 20 or so rounds I've played the shutters have been open twice, with one robotics building a god damned REINFORCED WALL in their doorway so as to avoid being bothered. Another time the RD had to take over because the robotics section had literally stacked the heads on the desk and gone back to building his exosuit. The only time I've seen a comms active Robotics is when they were also an IPC and knew what was coming. So with this experience in mind I have decided to create a thread asking for your ideas on how to solve this. I realize the simple solution is "Wait for people who are less shit at their jobs" but this is some genetics level of not giving a fuck. When it was player lives on the line we simply opted to move the cloner out of genetics. and while I'd hardly suggest we move the part fabricator out of robotics I'd rather not sit another 10 minutes while I wait for them to finally finish whatever their working on and get around to realizing there is a dead body sitting on their desk. My suggestion is the same as it has always been: New players always drag the bodies to medical first anyways, so re-purpose the currently rarely used medical examination room as a synthetics' and specialty clinic. Fill it with equipment needed for the harder to heal species. Give it a connection to robotics for requesting cybernetic parts. Hell make it a Karma job if you want. Naturally this is a very time expensive solution so if you have any other ideas or suggestions, throw them here.

So THATS what you two were whispering about

I mean I'd also just settle for species turning up on health scanner identification and the like. I just don't know how hard that would be to code.

Well the whole point is that I don't want to be ripping off masks and shit just to know whether to clone or defib someone, or what kind of medicine to give them. Plus it doesn't really make sense to no be able to tell a species apart by the fact I can't see its face.

Adding in my 2 cents; Telescience had much of the same boat for research, in that it is fun, but didn't really further any objectives other than to be an asshole or give someone far more power than they could ever need as a law abiding individual. The solution was to remove it from science laboratories and make it a building option. And I've seen many a scientist make a DNA manipulator in the test lab ANYWAYS since genetics will often times just ignore the radio. I would say, keep the clone where it is, either make mutadone work essentially the same as a clean S.E. or have the cloner able to generate S.E.'s based off scans, and make genetic labs a building option for science.

could be an evolved species of the already existing space shrooms. which evidently need no oxygen to survive.

I'm getting really frustrated here. I can no longer depend on colour or body shape to identify the species of a player. Just today I tried to clone a slime person who was decaying in my arms because I thought they were a skrell as they were light green. The round after that I was lit on fire because I decided to cut the head off a nuke ops without realizing they were a plasmaman. You can imagine how well that went over. I work in medical a lot and I generally know what specific species need but when the shift gets hot, I need to be able to find things out without stripping them of their clothes to get a better look at their sprite. I'd like to suggest an identifier of some sort. Personally I'd vote for it being tied to an examine on someone but if anyone has better ideas or honestly any other input than "Git gud" I'd be happy to hear it.

It wasn't that to beginwith?

Earth x github

ayyy you're the one who showed up in jaxon's office looking for a drink!

Fuck shit, you are correct, can I get a thread shift?

I.D. Name: Aaron "flip flops" Underwood Gender: Male Age: 23 Species: Human Blood Type:O+ Notable Employment Factors Bilingual: Gutter Knowledge of a multitude of different standard ships and station's designs. Excelled in tests pertaining to lateral problem solving. "Lucky": Basic reactionary risk assessment test of "Higher/Lower" resulted in a factor of 67 cards guessed correctly; an astounding 12% over population standard. Despite having no (valid) educational certificates, they scored a 90% or above in multiple aptitude tests (Given institutions denied ever seeing attendance or did not actually exist) [Employment history] 18 years "student" while in Underwood Orphanage on Mars 2 years freelance maintenance engineer 2 years unaccounted for due to "bluespace" incident 1 year small cargo merchant and transport Psychological Evaluation For a young lad with such an astounding backstory, he is remarkably plain. Abandoned at birth and remaining unadopted for the entirety of his childhood clearly left him with a "devil may care" attitude that has allowed him to survive his ordeals with little to no social deficits. He still acts the brash and bold that is common in his young age, and the knowledge of what he has overcome has served no less to slow him. Despite what his education may suggest he mostly enjoys discovery, and merely sees machine work as a means to an end. I have no doubt that were system cartography still a bountiful trade, legal or not, he would scoff at the idea of applying to plasma research. Final evaluation: Young and brash, but exceedingly mentally equipped to deal with life on a technological frontier. Has more than proven his capability in his past. High priority hire. -Dr. Roland No. Bibliography Flip flops spent his whole childhood in Underwood Orphanage and left that orphanage his own man, choosing to carry the name of his home as his surname. His nickname was given to him by his friends, as his feet grew astonishingly faster than he ever did and the budget strict home decided giving him sandals with adjustable straps was infinitely more affordable than buying a new size of shoe for the young lad every few months. To this day he still prefers them over closed toe shoes. And in truth he always felt more attachment to the namesake given to him by his friends, than by the parents who abandoned him. At the tender age of eighteen he struck out with what little education he had as a freelance engineer, and swiftly learned it was much easier to lie and be hired for a job he was woefully under-qualified for, than it was to tell the truth and try and convince people to put the trust of their lives into a 18 year old with a monkey wrench. Thus Flips studied under a long cherished methodology of "Kinda winging it" as he faffed about in engines trying to figure out what was broken and how to fix it long enough for him to get paid. This would... remarkably, provide him living wages until his big mouth finally got him into a job he was far to small for: Fixing a blue space artillery gun. No one in their right mind would hire a 20 year old faff-about patchwork engineer to fix a BSA, but a "38 year old prodigal engineer who made the chokecherry courser™ go back on it's trade route in no less than three hours with a wrench, a fire extinguisher, and an all purpose epoxy" who would do the job for half price? Well that was a no brainer! Know whats also a no brainer? What happens when you forget to turn off the power to a BSA that has been having issues with the safety protocols, and then short circuiting the emitters after accidentally engaging a calibration test. Flips was declared dead two days after an intensive forensic search produced only a hand. It was inferred that the BSA had fired with no real coordinates and had sent the body, if not the pieces of the body, to a remarkably far off uncharted section of space. And thusly when Flip Flops turned up two years later on distant Sol System radio chatter spurting expletives in seven different pidgin dialects to a group of Vox Scavengers; who were desperately trying to mag lock something that could only vaguely be called a ship, there was quite a bit of confusion. After being arrested, to hear him tell his story he had landed on some sort of planetary garbage heap that was just inundated with vox, none of which were too happy to see him. He swiftly passed out from his Blue space amputation and recalls waking up on an undocumented abandoned trade depot with a badly cauterized arm and a jacket. He would spend the next two years exploring dead planets and ships, using what he could scavenge to bolster his odds of survival, and finding no small share of strange artifacts and trinkets. His travels eventually took him too close to vox space and thus his epic escape into the hands of the solar coast guard. He would eventually be released with his possessions and "ship" where he would spend the next year trading and shipping his way into the radar of Nanotransen, who offered him a promising career on the frontier of science, where he was given the title of "anomolist" and used as a trump card to be thrown at anything that was to promising to trash, but to dangerous to be checked by anyone important.

Fair enough, I did not know this.

I'll be honest, I'm not sure how difficult this would be to implement. But seriously, I've memorized where every single one is, because within two minutes any and all public access ones are gone. People guard them, even the ones they don't use, jealously. To my knowledge the only existing way to get more is for cargo to order them, which I don't even need to explain why that's annoying. (I'm quite certain that the QM exists only because they haven't implemented a button that says "no" when you press it yet) At least from an auto or proto I can go ask science. I don't believe this would be an issue for balancing but feel free to discuss it here. Just... Please? I'm tired of being arrested because I don't want to carry a weapon around everywhere.

As a man of science you're not supposed to believe in karma. That being said, if it were ever proven to exist I doubt he would've been surprised. Spawn in as a scientist, and swiftly begin to choke out the monkey in the testing area. Because fuck that monkey. He will push you away from whatever your working on 60% of the time, every time. This it seems, would begin flipflops' decent into death. Decide to dispose of corpse via testing new chem. Theoretically should ignite on a delayed reaction. Lay it down in a beaker with the corpse and a tape recorder to time it. Decide to go get some stuff from RnD in the mean time. RnD is a cluster fuck as usual, with everyone sort of running in and using the computer as they please regardless of whose using it at the moment. Wait until everyone is gone which takes about five minutes. Quickly find out that five minutes was spent doing dick all and the research levels are at level two at best. Spend three minutes boosting what I can just to get the stuff I want and then give up when someone comes back and takes over the terminal again. Decide to head back to lab. Testing area is covered in a pink smoke and various walls are gone exposing it to space. Tape recorder is gone. monkey is apparently not only alive, but still on fire and screaming. Which is weird because it didn't have a pulse when I left it there. Inquire about it to scientist in fire fighter gear attempting to repair it, and they said the fire melted the walls. As someone whose filled those walls with flaming plasma I conclude that they just accidentally melted the walls with poly acid and are trying to shift blame. Annoyed I storm off and go find some air canisters to restore working air supply. After what feels like an eternity looking around in maintenance, stop giving a shit and go back to RnD. Zero progress was made. Say fuck everything and produce a mining drill and shuffle off to HoP's office. HoP isn't there. Apparently the captain shot off his legs or some shit but had enough time to shutter down his entire station. Try to call him back and start smashing windows to allow me to get into line. Botanist decides to disarm me and steal my drill and run off. Chase him and he starts beating me with it. Eventually lose sight, give up, and make a new drill and get back in line. Angrily inform HoP of my shit day and tell him to either "give me miner's access so I can get off this shit station, or I'm gonna start making bombs" Gives me what I thought was miner's access and I follow a fellow miner onto the shuttle and go to work. Eventually have a lovely collection of silver gold and diamond. Head back to station and find that I don't have access to any of the doors... HoP had given me partial access, and I couldn't even leave let alone redeem any of the stuff I had mined out. Fuck off into the great unknown armed with mining equipment and a tool belt I stole from cargo. Arrive on commie station and repair solars. Dick about for a bit before realizing I'm running a fever. Decide to move on before I die of something, eventually collide with station again. Walk into medical and eventually talk to a surgeon. He fixes my lungs, and injects me with spaceacillin. After I mention I still appear to be dying he checks again and apparently my heart is now malfunctioning. And then fuck If I know what happens next because he puts me under and as far as I know I die there. The shuttle gets called and he drags me down to it, but ditches me at some point in the hallway while I'm still on the anesthetic and when it runs out I start suffocating to death. Game freezes and crashes and I just give up on SS13 for the day. Flip Flops did not have a good day.

Ah yes the warden! I remember you!

I.D. Name: Jaxon Harrold Gender: Male Age: 34 Species: Human Blood Type: A- Notable Employment factors Bilingual: Siik'tajr (Given reason: "You ever tried to talk to them in common? It's like a constant game of "Which fuck are they talking about now?") Remarkably fast learner: Efficiency evaluation resulted with a proficiency at over five random given tasks within a 24 hour period No current ties off station. States that they have family but refused to give further details on subject. [Employment history] Clinical Psychiatrist: eight years Bouncer: one year Bartender: fifteen years Nanotransen Station Bartender: eight weeks Nanotransen Station Xenobiologist: Two days Nanotransen Station Profiler and Forensic analysis: six days, requested transfer. Nanotransen Station Clinical Psychologist: Ongoing[Education] GED PhD in Psychology Minor in criminology Five week Nanotransen intensive training in Xenobiology Five week Nanotransen support group for the recently cloned Crash Course in forensic technology Psychological Evaluation I initially mistook Jaxon for another one of the recently "Re-educated" employees of Nanotransen by his polite demeanor with underlying morbidity but according to his records he was never placed under these treatments. These personality factors seem to have already been in place, which I speculate will help him remain sane under the extreme stresses of this kind of employment. As for potential employment risks it seems whoever evaluated him previously; misdiagnosed him as an anger-management risk. While the extreme reactions are violent, this seems to stem from a combination of paranoia and obsession with common courtesy. He seems to become extremely agitated in response to violent actions and failure of responsibility, while being almost borderline enamored with those who prove to be helpful. I speculate that the extreme importance of responsibility must stem from events in his past which he is being pertinently vague about. Jaxon keeps a light, and very joking manner about him. However I have reason to believe he is consistently evaluating those around him. Both his movement and speech seems premeditated and practiced, I worry whether or not he is attempting to control his actions but as a doctor I am forced to take his statements at face value. FINAL EVALUATION:, Unlikely to be a serious threat but keep under a watchful eye ~ Dr. Roland No. Bibliography Jaxon Harrold was born on Earth to a small farming family. He proved remarkably successful in school and quickly graduated after receiving a full ride from a minor University in the area. After obtaining his PhD in clinical psychology he practiced for some fair amount of time before his license was revoked under special circumstances. Being of fair physique he found work as a Bouncer at a local club where he made fast friends with the owner. When the owner retired a year later he hired Jaxon to manage and run the bar there where he kept it running for many years after. When the owner died the Bar was inherited by the son who chose to renovate it into some kind of casino. Jaxon chose to move on and applied to be stationed on one of the Nanotransen Plasma research stations. He got the job but soon realized that the drunks and mooks of his home planet had nothing on the usual bar goers of Space Station 13. He doubted the life expectancy in any job that regularly comes with a bean bag shot gun as usual equipment in a recreational area. He quickly applied and learned the skills of the first open job he could convince the Head of Personal to give him. Xeno biology... Didn't work out. Unfortunately a side effect of the improper cloning he suffered resulted in his eyes needing biomechanical replacements. After being reborn through the cloning pods Jaxon gained a new morbid view on his life. He seems to have a newfound obsession with justice, as well as a petulant distrust of the slime people. Jaxon was offered a shuttle back home but instead chose to apply as the forensic specialist on the station. On the third day he was reprimanded for interjecting into a ongoing interrogation with contrary evidence. On the fourth day he forgot to punch in and was reprimanded instead for loading his gun with lethal rounds. On the fifth day he submitted request for a transfer that "More accurately reflected his skills" and spent quite a bit of time in the bar and on the sixth day he was transferred to medical psychiatric needs where he was given a crash course in SoP as his former supervisor was suffering from multiple shrapnel wounds from a "damaged" tank valve, and was declared unfit for duty due to paranoia.

I've been getting back into space station 13 and you've the unfortunate fate of being the server I've liked the most since I've started again! Some have you may run into me already on the station as one "Jaxon Harrold" The bloke with some serious anger management problems and a rather morbid humor. Alternatively you may have heard me accidentally IC in OOC instead of deathspeak like I'm supposed to be doing. I'm still catching up on the new rules ^.^lll. Further apologies if you've been subject to any of his abuse verbal or otherwise, just playing the character. I've been enjoying myself so far, and I look forward to playing with you folks. And please be patient with me and correct anything I'm not supposed to be doing. I promise I'll edit my behavior appropriately. Other than that I'll do my duties to the best of my ability. Feel free to lodge any complaints against me or suggestions to me here, I'll be setting it to alert me when someone responds. (Mime master race: screw you clowns and your ridiculous trumpet face)