Keroman

You heard what happened at the CentCom Symposium for Pathogenics right? You didn't? Well you missed out, but before I tell you about it I have to tell you about a certain crewmember who was there. Maxwell Edison, in his first real attempt at majoring in Medicine, decided he wanted to study viruses to get his foot in the door at Medbay. He knew about the Sciences, about building robots and breeding slimes, so working with something a little more dangerous didn't particularly faze him, even if he was a bit clumsy at times. He was bright (or so he thought), he was friendly, and most importantly to the story he was human. Well the day of the symposium came about like any other day. Maxwell had been granted a short reprieve from his regularly scheduled shifts thanks to a kindly Head of Personnel who liked to see crew members attempting to better themselves. Max showed up bright and early to the first day of the conference to learn a little about viruses and how they work. The first few seminars delved into topics such as viral classification and pathogen intensity. Interesting stuff! After a lunch of space fish and chips Maxwell was wandering the main hall of the conference building when a sign caught his eye. Hands-On Pathogenics for Robust Virologists? That sounded right up his alley! Entering the lecture hall Maxwell found, rather than row upon row of seats as he was expecting, instead there had been set up a great number of tables with real live equipment! NT employees walked from table to table, looking into microscopes or feeding viral sample trays into analyzers and centrifuges. Max found himself swept along with a group of people like him, eager to learn and do. He found himself at a table with a small tray full of slides, each one labelled "Kingston Syndrome" followed by a unique STAMM identifier. The lecturer at the table picked up one of the slides and spoke to the gathering. "Kingston Syndrome," said the virologist, "There are other viruses that can rewrite a person's DNA - I'm sure you've all heard of Pierrot's Throat," he said as he looked knowingly around at his small audience, "This one," he held up the slide, "can turn a Human into a Tajaran." He waited a moment to let the hushed murmurs subside, then carried on in his professional tone, "We're still studying the why of it. There's a few theories - the most popular being that it originated on Ahdomai with the Tajara themselves. Our best and brightest surmise that where the virus once could only survive within a Tajaran host this particular strain mutated in such a way that it began to break down Tajaran DNA cells, much like our own DNA Breakdown Syndrome affects us Humans. There are records of so-called 'wasting disease' passing through the population of Ahdomai. Eventually the virus may have mutated even more so as to absorb and carry those DNA cells with it without causing harm to the host. Further down the line - and we're talking thousands, tens of thousands of years here," he shrugged vaguely, "it mutated still further to pass along to other species altogether. When the first Humans and Tajarans met it's entirely possible that a predecessor to this virus passed from Tajaran to Human." He held out the slide to the first person on his left, "Go on, pass it around. Take a look at how it's labelled, how the culture looks under the glass. Fascinating, yes." The slide made it's way through the hands of half a dozen people before making it to Maxwell. Holding it up in both hands, Max studied the labeling eagerly, marveling at how strange the universe must be to create such a virus. As he peered at the glass he was taken entirely unawares by an inconsiderate passer-by bumping into him. The glass slide dropped to the ground and, without thinking, Max reached down to catch it. The glass, of course, shattered on impact and Max, already stooping to grab it didn't manage to stop himself in time. A flying shard of the broken dish embedded itself in his ungloved hand, "Ow! Uh.. err.. S-sorry?" said Max, meekly, gripping the wrist of his injured right hand in his free left hand. He looked up from the shattered dish to see the group of wide-eyed faces staring back at him. The silence that followed lasted only a moment before the lecturer called out, "Loose virus! Everyone out! It's only blood-transmissible so keep it orderly people! Stay away from the Kingston station!" Max's fellow attendees backed away, their worried looks not diminishing as their distance from the accident grew. As a group of hazard-suit wearing doctors filed in from the entrance the lecturer took a close but careful look at Max's hand, "Oh boy... If you're lucky this'll be nothing. If you're not, well, you're in for a rough ride, friend." As the men in plastic suits ushered him away Max saw the lecturer giving him a look of pity. He most certainly didn't like what the man had implied. Bundled off to a clean, hermetically sealed room, Max was looked over by some of the best virologists in attendance at the conference. Over the course of several hours he was told nearly 15 times how lucky he was for such a thing to happen at the conference and not while he was tucked away in some quiet corner of Paradise Station without any assistance. Max, of course, didn't feel particularly lucky at all. Poked and prodded from every angle, scraped and stuck by a wide range of medical implements, Max began to wonder if he'd really been infected with anything. It had been hours since the incident and he didn't feel any different.. did he? Of course not - anybody would feel weird with a veritable conga-line of doctors parading through his room and asking him to cough or spit into vial or stare into a penlight. As the day wore on the doctor visits tapered off. Maxwell was led into another room, this one set up more like a bedroom, though with blank white walls and the permeating smell of strong medical grade cleaning chemicals. Max's PDA had been taken away earlier in the day, along with his clothing, but he didn't mind as he was too exhausted for anything beyond sleep. He laid his head on the pillow, the soft papery pillowcase crinkling gently. He pulled the itchy wool blankets up and shut his eyes. His sleep was thick with nightmares of the most hostile sort. He dreamed of himself, still human, but wearing a collar and licking himself clean. He dreamed that he was changed - not into a regular Tajaran, who often looked like fearsome Terran lions or panthers - no he dreamed that he turned into a housecat and tormented by ghostly owners who kicked at him, dragged him by his tail, or threw him to rabid dogs out in the yard. He dreamed that he was something akin to a feline version of a werewolf - a beast without reason who would on instinct hunt down his friends and co-workers. Max woke the next morning as the first of the day's doctors filed into his room. Immediately he knew something was wrong. For one his entire body ached much like the last time the cloning machine had mucked his genes up. He also noticed that the lower part of his vision was considerably more obscured than usual, as if his nose had suddenly gotten quite a bit bigger in both length and width. It also didn't take long for him to notice the fur, the tail, the strange structure of his legs, or the claws poking out at the ends of fingers and toes. The virus had done it's work well and Maxwell Edison was now something entirely other than Human. The week passed by with more tests being run every day, every hour, every minute! Hair samples, fur samples, saliva, blood, and even urine for some reason. The biopsies were even worse - the doctors digging into him to pull out small pieces for testing. Fortunately they kept Maxwell doped up on so much morphine he could do little more than blink one eye at a time. By the end of the week the doctors had run out of tests. The virologists had almost all gone as the conference had run it's course. The only ones left who showed any interest in Maxwell's condition were the virology staff at CentCom. With all the tests and surgeries behind him Maxwell asked firstly when he could expect a cure, and secondly when he would be allowed to go home. He was informed that unfortunately there was as of yet no cure. This particular strain of Kingston Syndrome had proven fairly resilient against treatment. He was given a prescription for low-dosage radium pills and told that hopefully his body would figure out how to create antibodies on it's own. As to the second question he was told that he could go home that very day. He was released with orders to check in at CentCom virology at least once a day. He was also told that he should check in with the NT Rep on board Paradise Station during his next shift as he was now for all intents and purposes a Tajaran, with all the good and the bad that entailed. The next day Maxwell woke up feeling better but still somewhat uncomfortable with his strange new physique. Mentally he didn't feel very different. As he showered he heard a Tajaran advertisement play on the radio and couldn't make heads nor tails (ugh) of the language. It was a worrying sign to him that while he might not fit in with Humans anymore neither would he fit in with the Tajarans. He didn't know the first thing about them after all. They were like Terran cats in a way, but there had to be so much more than that. He wouldn't like it if someone boiled down all of Humanity to the phrase, "Oh they're like hairless version of the primates we have on Ahdomai." That would just be insulting. So Maxwell set off on the shuttle for his shift. He arrived a little bit late as he had needed extra time (and shampoo), but he dutifully reported to the NT Rep on staff. As the Rep's pAI flitted about the room as a sleek metal dragonfly Max was reassured that he would be treated no different than if he were human by most of the crewmembers. He was also told that if anyone verbally abused him he could report it directly to the Rep without hesitation and that it would be dealt with quickly. There were the occasional racist crewmembers aboard... or was is speciesist? Specist? No that didn't sound right. Well whatever the case might be Max figured if anyone gave him a hard time or called him catbeast he would just inform them that he was actually Human. They'd understand, right? As he was ushered from the Rep's office a mouse crawled out from the air ducts nearest the door. A confusing desire gripped Max and he fought it with every fiber of his still-Human mind. He didn't think of the rodent as an animal or even a nasty pest. He saw a snack. And he ran. He made it to his post in Robotics before the RD even noticed he was running late and began assembling the day's first cyborg shell. He was grateful that the nature of the work helped take his mind off of his predicament. Ten minutes later he was prodding at the positronic brain with a screwdriver when the Research Director walked in accompanied by the NT Rep. Maxwell thought for sure they had come to speak to him, perhaps to send him home for the day. He greeted them nervously and was informed that the Rep had simply requested a tour of the station and, coincidentally, Robotics was the first stop. Maxwell relaxed and started to return to his work when he heard the NT Rep exclaim, "My word, is that a rodent? They're everywhere on the station today. Get rid of it, will you Max?" Poor Maxwell replied, pleadingly as he looked from the Rep to the RD to the litte mouse that had crawled out from somewhere below the disposal, "I.. uh.. C-could you do it, please?" Unfortunately the Rep was having none of it, "They're filthy things - I'd rather not get my hands dirty. I'm sure you can handle it." Max groaned inwardly as he approached the mouse where it stood blinking up at him by the base of the disposal. He reached down and caught it much more easily than he would have thought - later in the day he supposed maybe the artificial air made them more sluggish than their earthbound brethren - and held it up, looking at it with disgust but also a strange sense of anticipation. He hesitated just long enough for the RD and NT Rep to leave the room to continue their tour elsewhere then looked back at the terrified little thing. Surely it couldn't be that bad, right? I mean... Tajarans do this sort of thing all the time... And so did he.. And he nearly vomited it right back up.. But then again.. he didn't feel quite so hungry anymore.. Thankfully for Max the rest of the shift went rather smoothly despite a cult (whose members included none other than the RD himself!) causing troubles, Max accidentally DNA-locking a Ripley mech, and later being asked to build a ton of cleanbots for Mother the AI. He was thankful there was no shortage of things to do so that he didn't have to sit and think about his predicament and whether or not he'd ever really be himself again. As the shift ended and he boarded the shuttle he accidentally sat on his tail, yelping loudly and cursing under his breath. Even so, he felt better than he had since that first day of the conference. He hummed an old Terran tune quietly - you know the one - "Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine, calls her on the phone..." ---- I hope this was at least semi-entertaining to read. I had a ton of fun running with this theme for my character earlier tonight. To everyone who took the time to RP with me I appreciated it a lot! To Elysian, who spawned the mouse and telepathically sparked the desire to eat it - good show man. To the NT Reps who RPed this with me - I think Sam Smash and someone whose initials were QQ, to whom I apologize for forgetting his name - Thanks to both of you for letting me roll with a fun RP opportunity. To Balamb-OS thanks for teaching me some quick and dirty R&D. I'm thinking I'm going to alternate off and on from Human Max to Tajaran Max. Maybe the virus's effects subside for days, weeks, or months at a time, only to return at inopportune moments. I've never really played a furry character but I have no problem with them in general so I guess we'll see where this goes. I think it would be funny to release a Kingston Syndrome-laden virus in game just to troll the furry-haters but I know that'd likely get me in trouble so it'll remain just an idea for now.

I don't mean to sound sarcastic or like I'm being a jerk, but you misunderstand my meaning. I'm not talking about self-antaging in any way shape or form. What I meant was if a Xenobiologist who starts as an antagonist decided they wanted to try to get shadowling powers (imagine a Syndi with the ability to thrall people - it'd be very nearly like having infinite mindslave implants) they might think to try using the mutagenic toxin from a green slime extract. I know it's a fairly specific scenario to worry about, but I don't want an antagonist to mistakenly screw themselves 30 minutes into a round because the wiki is unclear about the exact effects of toxin. I promise I'm not trying to be argumentative simply for the sake of an argument. I enjoy working on wikis and want them to be as high quality as possible. That includes clarifying potential confusion in an article before it can have a negative impact in-game. For many players I believe that it's necessary to note the difference between a "shadow person" and a "shadowling". If there's a wiki entry for both of those creature types we could potentially link to them within the Xenobio wiki. Hell, if we just link the term "shadow person" we could leave my edit out entirely so long as the page for "shadow person" is clear about them not being the same as a shadowling. At that point it's up to the individual viewing the wiki to click the link to the "shadow person" entry and read up on it so they know it's a terrible fucking idea to become one.

The only thing it really said about being a shadow person was "this will most likely kill you". As a new-ish player I didn't realize there was a difference between "shadowling" and "shadow person." A few rounds prior to my testing it I even had a conversation with a Mod via ahelp regarding the green and black slime extracts and their use and effect on players and it seemed to me (though I could be wrong!) as if he, too, thought the green slime mutagenic toxin turned people into shadowlings. I just felt it was appropriate to make the distinction VERY clear in the guide so that, for instance, an antagonist Xenobio looking to gain some shadowling powers doesn't instead screw themselves over.

So thanks to a shadowling round where I got thralled I was able to test the effects of the green slime extract mutagen on myself. It turns out YOU DO NOT BECOME A FULL SHADOWLING when you use it. You merely become a "shadow person" who has no extra abilities but is vulnerable to light while healing rapidly in the dark. It is beyond useless. I was attempting to log into the Wiki to add that as a note to the Xenobio guide but I was having difficulty even finding a functioning login page. Would someone with access be willing to add something to that page in the section where it lists all the slimes and the effects of their extracts? I just want to make it very clear for future Xenobiologists that they cannot expect to become a powerful shadowling with the mutagen. EDIT - Also in regards to my previous post just above this one, I have still seen a 100% success rate in getting bluespace crystals from bluespace slime extracts which have been injected with blood. EDIT 2 - Alright, I was able to log in so I added the above note to the Xenobio guide as well as posted a summary of the change in the discussion section. It looks like someone has already edited the bluespace slime entry to confirm that it functions as intended. I like how it says, "Aren't these like rare?" That's true but unless you're super lucky with the slimes it takes a while to get them. By that point most research will be maxed out or if the miners are doing their jobs right they'll have brought back several bluespace crystals of their own already. I do not think it would be amiss, however, to lower the chances of getting a bluespace gem from a bluespace slime to something like 10%. That would likely put it on par with the number of crystals brought in by mining.

G'day folks, I'm Keroman. You've probably seen me around as Maxwell Edison (majoring in not medicine.) I used another name for the first day or two but I retired that character because I admittedly made a pretty big mistake that nearly got me banned. I won't go into details myself but I don't mind if an Admin feels it's necessary to post about it. Suffice it to say I'm going to be staying away from any security roles for a long (long long long) time. I've mostly been working in Botany, Cargo, Mining, and recently in Robotics and Xenobiology. Occasionally I'll be the Chaplain spouting off about the Deep Ones and their eternal hunger. I haven't played any antags yet - I have the setting turned off, actually - until I get a better feel for how the game works. So far my favorite role has been Quartermaster, although it gets boring at times. I feel like I do a pretty decent job of running the show in Cargo and I've had several players tell me so. If you see me as QM don't be afraid to ask for anything, just be prepared to seek out the appropriate department head for a stamp if it's something potentially dangerous. Roles I'd like to try in the future are R&D, Chef (as long as the Botanist is active and helpful), something in Medbay, Genetics, and farther down the line possibly HoP. I'm not particularly interested in playing HoS, Captain, or AI but who knows how that will change in the future? See you folks aboard!

I don't have access to edit the Wiki but the other day I confirmed in Xenobio that injecting bluespace slimes with blood always results in a bluespace crystal appearing out of nowhere. I can't say for sure it happens 100% of the time but it definitely happened at least 18 times in a row for me. I did not inject them with plasma, however, so I couldn't tell you what result that has, but next time I'm assigned to Xenobio or Science I'll give it a shot. I'd also be willing to try various chemicals and I'll post here with updates whenever I figure out something new.