Jul 6, 2015

Averting Epsilon Chapter 4: Multidi-what now?


  Jagra looked over a rack of equipment curiously, “The hound at the mining camp said electrical gear resonates on the crystals, but I see a lot of electric motors on these digging supplies, how do you prevent interference?”

  Marcus looked up from a terminal and responded, “Farraday cages embedded into the housings, we duct it all into a cell on the hazmat suits that stores the static for safe discharge later.”
  “That strikes me as technology a mining company would value greatly, why do they not use it?”
  “The cells are made using silver and they're only good for two or three trips before needing to be scrapped and rebuilt. It's not worth the expense to use it for mining.”

  Akaila glanced over at them while sitting at a table. There was a coin on the table in front of her, balanced on one side. She was practicing her telekinesis by attempting to keep it slowly spinning, but her lack of experience showed every time it shot several feet across the table, sometimes falling to the floor and forcing her to retrieve it. After one such trip, she asked, “So what exactly do you guys do here, besides collecting data all day?”

  “We study the multidimensional manifestations of the psionic, temporal, and ethereal anomalies which proliferate the vicinity of the seven superior magicka majoris formations, with the end-goal of manipulating and potentially nullifying their detrimental effects while multiplying, magnifying, or otherwise amplifying their beneficial factors.”

  She stared blankly, “You lost me at multidimensional.”

  Sapien stifled a laugh, “They try to figure out what makes magic tick, so they can control it. You could have just read his mind to figure it out, you know.”

  “It doesn't work like that. If my mind can't readily grasp a concept, it comes across as equally confusing gibberish. I peeked at what he was thinking when he said it, and trying to pull that from his mind was like being shoved snout-first into a trigonometry book.”

  He just grinned at that and Jagra spoke for him, “Smart enough to stump a telepath, I must say that's a first for me.”

  Marcus went back to typing on his terminal and after typing in a few more numbers, leaned back with a slight yip, ears forward.

  Akaila looked over at him, “Something interesting?”

  “I just finished crunching that month's worth of survey data Sapien collected. First off, I'm going to assume whatever buried the needles on every single one of our scanners earlier today originated on your ship.”

  She whimpered, looking down at the coin, remembering the pain, actually thinking about the moment before she lost consciousness, hearing the thoughts of every single person on the planet, knowing absolute pain, pleasure, hunger, energy, exhaustion, and a dozen emotions so complex they lack a title, and the sheer, overwhelming, indescribable sensation of absolute godly omnipotence before her mind overloaded and couldn't contain it.

  “Hey! Hey! Akaila!”

  She blinked and looked up, seeing Marcus leaning over her with Jagra also looking down...and a ceiling fan in front of her, “How did I get on the floor?”

  “I mentioned that energy spike and you went glassy eyed for a good three minutes, you don't remember that?”

  She shook her head, slowly sitting up, her head spinning, then she noticed several overturned items on a nearby shelf, her chair on its side, and the coin she'd been practicing with folded neatly in half, “I get the feeling that's not all that happened.”

  “Hell no it's not, when we noticed something was up, Sapien tried to shake you out of it, you screamed like a banshee and fell to the floor, damn near broke everything in the room when you did it too, just what the fuck was that pulse you sent out?”

  “I honestly don't kn-wait, where's Sapien?”

  He grimaced and pointed towards the corner, where she was sitting pressed against the walls, ears back, hugging her tail and gently petting it, clearly traumatized. She glanced over at them, and nervously spoke, “I, I'll be okay, it's just...I saw it, it was second-hand, but I saw it, god, no wonder you blacked out, no mind should be able to handle that. It's too...it's just...that can't be right, my mind must have filled in the blanks, censored it, you know? Replaced the stuff I couldn't comprehend with something I could.”

  Marcus looked back and forth between them, then at Jagra, “One of them explodes when we mention it, and the other is shell-shocked, would you mind telling me what the ever loving fuck happened up there on that ship?”

  “It was mythril that syndicate rat was smuggling, a good three crates worth, and not an ounce of it shielded or grounded out, one of the crates busted when we went to throw it overboard, Akaila was standing in the middle when they stopped sliding across the deck.”

  He groaned, collapsing into a chair and burying his muzzle between his hands, “Yeah, that would do it. It's a miracle she's not dead, and anyone standing nearby for that matter. And I'm not even exaggerating, an overexposure to mythril is supposed to be fatal to a psycher, so what, she screamed and let out a pulse, like she did just now?”

  “Aye, but a good ten times stronger, we had to hit the deck to avoid being hit by shrapnel, and the storm reached right up and pulled us in right after, if I didn't know better, I'd say the clouds took on the shape of a hand just to grab at us.”

  “You probably wouldn't be too far off. I think what happened is her brainwaves got amplified so much she was able to see between planes, it's exactly what we've been trying to do here, but we're smart enough to let a computer handle the number crunching, and to keep all energy sources behind a shitload of shielding.”

  Sapien glanced up at him before going back to nervously stroking her tail, “You mentioned survey data?”

  “Yeah, yeah, the survey data, well Akaila plugging herself into the fabric of spacetime inadvertently gave us the final piece we needed to do something practical with it. That pulse was like a massive psionic sonar ping, and an order of magnitude more powerful than anything we've been able to make using machines. Since your ship was sitting at the epicenter, the sensors got perfect resolution when that ping came back. We now have a snapshot of the entire anomalous region, frozen at one instance. It's like a decryption key, I lined up each energy field reading to the exact second that range peaked, and all those random numbers started to come together into meaningful sums. To put it bluntly, she hacked God's computer and stole a copy of the map to the universe off it. I'll need to give Tulpa and Michael a chance to run some equations first, but I think we could prove multiverse theory with this.”

  Akaila blinked a couple times, “And the other guy?”

  “Who?”
  “The fourth guy who works here.”
  “Fourth?”

  Jagra shot him a look, “There were three of you that greeted us at the door, then Tulpa was inside, that makes four, there's a fourth member of your team, is there not?”

  He rubbed his head, wincing slightly, “Yeah, now that I think about it...but I can't for the life of me put a name to the face...Oh, if you guys are hungry, there's a fully stocked pantry here, just down-”

  “Fourth man.”
  “Huh? Oh, yeah, just thinking about that is making me nervous, Michael is supposed to run all new hires past me...oh, hires! Akaila, you're going to need to fill out some forms, I almost forgot all abou-”

  She growled and slapped him as hard as she could, then before he had a chance to react, grabbed his head with both hands, staring him in the eyes and focusing on him directly, exploiting the shock of the unexpected actions to look deep into his mind. He started whimpering and shaking slightly from the mental intrusion before she let go.

  She sighed, “He's using memetic cloaking. People see him, but he's not seen as important, and thoughts about him get redirected.”

  Jagra asked, “So then why isn't it affecting us?”

  “Because we haven't been exposed to it directly, and he's not present in the room right now. I don't know anyone who could pull off a cloaking job like that though.”

  Marcus tilted his head, “What kind of cloaking job? Who?”

  “Yeah, he's not gonna be any help here, it would take a couple hours of hypnosis to fix that.”

  Sapien looked up at them, “Anybody slipping a cloaked person into a research team can't be up to anything good.”

  “No, they can't. And I'd bet money they'll want the numbers Marcus just came up with.”

  Marcus grinned, leaning back in his chair, “Damn straight, the academy is gonna flip when they hear about this.”

  “I'm not going to keep explaining the situation every time his memory blanks.”

  Sapien got to her feet, still a little shaky, “I can stay here and keep Marcus and the computer safe, lets face it, I'm fried after that pulse hit me, a psycher could play me like a musical instrument right now.”

  Akaila nodded and the two of them headed towards the door. Marcus got up and spoke, “oh, hey, before you guys go, I found something amazing in the numbers Sapien collected.”

  “You might want to make it fast, I think it cuts deeper into his memory each time his focus is pulled towards the topic.”

  Marcus looked towards her, “What cuts deeper?”

  “Please hurry.”
  “No, seriously, what cuts deeper?”

Jun 29, 2015

Averting Epsilon Chapter 3: A Plot Emerges

  Kessler looked over the tools on the shelves skeptically, “Haven't you people ever heard of electricity?”

  The mining office manager just glared at him, “Haven't you ever heard of resonance? Electrical mining equipment is no good here. Just like with the storm around the island, it interferes with the crystal deposits too. Even the phone network has to be grounded out and insulated.”

  Jagra smirked, hefting a drill as long as he was tall, “Ah be easy on the crocodile, he knows as much about mining as I do flyin, it's his family pride that put him here.”

  “Ah, another one of those types, eh?”

  The aging dingo leaned back in his chair with a wide grin, “I'll give you three to one standing odds he's dead by the end of the month.”

  Sapien and Akaila both rushed in, Sapien calling out, “Fifty eagles that he lives.”

  Akaila ran to Kessler and Jagra, “We need to move, now!”

  Jagra furled his brow, “The little brat fingered us to his boss to save his own hide, didn't he?”

  “That's about the size of it.”

  Kessler sighed and shook his head, grabbing a pickax and tossing a fistful of coins to the dingo, “You can head off, I'm staying.”

  Jagra looked at him in confusion, “These are no regular hoods you're dealing with, they're organized criminals! They don't play around.”

  Sapien and the manager glanced at each other, then back to the others,

  “Is it too late to change my bet?”
  “All sales final.”
  “Sonofabitch.”

  Kessler shouldered the pickax and responded, “I've been running from one thing or another all my damned life, and this is the last place on this planet left to run to. If they want to take me out, then so be it, I'll make them work for it.”

  Sapien growled and pulled money from her bag, handing it over to the dingo, “If you make it five to one he's gone by the end of the week you might be able to squeeze more out of people.”

  “I just might. And whoever said it's bad luck to bet against a fox?”

  She went to the front door, gesturing for the others to follow, “If he's staying there's nothing to be done. I know a group of scientists who could give us shelter while we work on our next move.”

  Jagra put the drill back on the shelf with a sigh, “I'll be coming back for you, don't go ta rustin before we get to rend the earth together.”

  As they headed out, Sapien called to the manager, holding up a keychain, “Oh, Kyle, I'm borrowing your truck.”

  He checked and found his keys missing from his pocket. He ran to chase her, but tripped on his own shoelaces. He stared at the perfect knot in disbelief, “How the fuck?”

  Kessler smirked at him, “I guess maybe it is bad luck after all.”

  Jagra and Sapien climbed into one of the mining company trucks, with Akaila getting in the back. They took off quickly, and were relieved to see nobody giving chase.

  Akaila called over the wind, “You do know we just committed grand theft, right?”

  Sapien glanced towards her, “Your nose is bleeding. And no we didn't. Kyle's a good friend of mine, I just like fucking with him because he's got this chip on his shoulder that dingoes are better than vulprens. He calls me a drunken Irish, I call him a redneck Aussie, then we each pull a prank on each other, it's become something of a game.”

  Akaila wiped her muzzle, finding the blood, “That explains the headache. Speaking of Irish, Sapien is an odd name, isn't that Latin?”

  Jagra commented back, “Aye, Latin for wisdom.”

  “He's right. My parents noticed I was smarter than other kits my age, so when it came time for names, being catholic, they picked a Latin one, wisdom. I wanted Tanya, but nooo, no Russian names they said. The oil war's been over twenty three years, but dad still expects Russian troops to pop out of the bushes and start shooting at him again.”

  Akaila slipped the mythril ingot she'd been carrying with her back into Sapien's bag, giving a sigh of relief as her headache began fading, “So these scientists we're going to, do they ever do work with psychers? I might want t-”

  She was cut off mid sentence by a loud crash in the distance, followed by echoing alarms. They looked back to see a column of smoke rising from the mining camp. Sapien looked at it in the rear view mirror with a sigh, “Well there goes fifty bucks.”

  Jagra came back in from leaning out the window, pushing his windblown beard back down, “We'll be next if we don't come up with a plan.”

  “I've already got one. I wasn't going to say anything yet, but the scientists might be a little pissed when we get there.”

  “And why would that be?”

  “That ship was indeed a prototype. I lied on the insurance forms though. The most valuable part survived the wreck, my backpack, take a closer look at it.”

  Jagra picked it up and studied it, looking over the clasps and hatches before finding a way to open it, “by the gods, you built this thing out of a brass book!”

  “Camouflage so I could sneak it out if a competing company came after the ship. The entire hull was one big antenna, that book's been collecting survey data of the Bering storm on every trip I made. The ship was insured for three million Eagles in case I crashed.”

  “So that purge system that dumped half the ship into the ocean?”

  “We were dumping the sensor array. Honestly I could have cut the balloons and sailed us in that last couple knots, but I had orders to destroy all equipment and pull the data recorder if anything compromised the mission. I wrote the wreck up as a total loss on the insurance forms, though, so they don't know yet that I was able to save the data. That was partly to reduce the chance of a competing company trying to steal it from me while I'm moving it, and partly to squeeze some overhead out of the insurance claim. I'm hoping I'll be able to convince them to give me the value of the book out of the claim, which we can then use to pay off the syndicate, and hopefully get them off our backs.”

  Akaila nodded in reassurance, “So you're going to ransom the black box to them? That's the closest thing to a solid plan I've heard so far, sounds good to me.”

  Jagra was slightly less enthused, “Were my life not on the line, I wouldn't be willing to go along with you on such a criminal venture.”

  “And if mine weren't, I wouldn't be willing to execute it. There's the facility up ahead.”

  A complex of several buildings loomed up in front of them, most looked like prefabs that were hastily assembled into place, but a few half-built structures looked designed for a more long-term assignment. The most sizable and heavily built of them was a massive dome, appearing to be an observatory shroud, but it was hanging open and the device inside was no telescope; in fact it looked more like a high-energy sensor array, and it was pointed at the horizon, scanning left and right occasionally.

  As they crested the last hill between them and the facility, several dots emerged from the buildings in the distance. As they got closer, it was revealed to be three people; two humans and one whitewolf. The whitewolf and one of the humans were wearing typical button-up shirts and jeans, but the other was wearing a lab coat and holding a pair of binoculars. After looking through them towards the incoming visitors, his expression furled and he said something to the other two, which made them both change in expression as well.

  Sapien grabbed her bag as she exited the truck and was sure to hold it up in a visible place before making her way to them. Jagra followed closely behind, but Akaila was having trouble, one eye continually squinting and twitching, and completely unable to un-fold her right ear. She couldn't see or sense anything causing it, but her body was reacting as if she was looking straight at a bright light any time she tried to look towards the buildings in front of them.

  One of the men took the bag from Sapien and quickly examined it, “What the hell? I just got off the phone with the insurance company, they said you reported a total loss.”

  “The ship is a total loss. I managed to ditch the sensor array where nobody will ever find it, and the rest hit the beach hard enough there's nothing to salvage.”
  “I meant that you reported the brass book as lost too.”
  “Yeah, actually, there's a problem with that...”

  one of the other two quickly grabbed it and began looking over it, “Dammit, what did you break?”

  “Not that kind of problem, a--”

  She stopped mid-sentence, noticing Akaila's difficulties, “...a syndicate kind of problem, Akaila, are you alright?”

  She whimpered, nodding, “Yeah, there's just something hammering me right now, it's actually starting to hurt.”

  “You think it might be the syndicate trying to track us?”

  The man in the lab coat looked over to her, looking at her tiara, “Are you a psycher?”

  “Yeah.”
  “It's the scanner.” He gestured towards the massive device in the observatory dome, “It creates a lot of psionic interference while it's running, we should head inside.”

  They all headed indoors, and as soon as the heavy metal door sealed behind them, she finally had a respite, and not just a normal one, the thousands of whispering voices she constantly heard suddenly fell silent. The only voices he could still hear belonged to those present, and were much quieter than normal.

  He chuckled at the look of relief on her face, “First time standing in a shielded building?”

  She blinked and looked at him before he continued, “This entire facility is shielded from interference and grounded out. Electrical, psionic, tectonic. You name it, there's a dampener in place that cancels it out.”

  She looked directly at him, her voice suddenly steeled, “You can cancel out psyche fields? Is it something passive, like an alloy or composite, or do you have to create an active counter-field?”

  He grinned wide, “Sapien, I should hire you to find more test subjects in the future.”

  Sapien glanced at him, then at Akaila, “I don't know if that would be the right term for it, her motivation is a so-called 'cure' for her abilities.”

  “Is that so?”

  He rubbed his chin, “You know, we've been needing the help of a good telekineticist around here, you ever tried your hand at it?”

  Akaila shrugged, “I guess I could try it. I've always done everything I could to lessen things, it's maddening hearing whispers and sensing people's intents all the time, like a TV you can't turn off that keeps changing the channel all the time.”

  He grinned and nodded along, still holding his chin, “It's an alloy.”

  “Hmm?”
  “We came up with an alloy that doesn't insulate psionic energy, it absorbs it, kinda like solar panels on sunlight, and it likewise makes electricity as a byproduct. Our last psycher quit unexpectedly, now, I'm not promising anything, since the alloy's expensive as all hell to make, but if you're willing to replace him, I can put a crowbar into the wallets of the bosses to try to get you a helmet made from it. It's not a cure, so to spe-”
  “I'll take it.”
  “That was fast.”
  “Actually it just got boring waiting for you to finish saying what you already thought.”
  “Oh we're gonna get along just great.”
  “Yeah, and as cute as it is, please stop spamming me with images of rabbits.”
  “Sorry, it's a bit of a reflex.”

  Sapien smirked, “Just be glad it's not porn.”

  “Oh I get plenty of that from you. Your mind is one of the most perverted I've ever seen, it's a miracle you haven't flirted with Jagra yet.”

  She blushed brightly, glancing at Jagra and hastily replying, “heh, yeah, funny, but I don't think anyone would uhm...believe that.”

  The man in the lab coat nearly fell over laughing, “All of the busted.”

  The wolven man had been tinkering with the backpack during the entire conversation and finally looked up to enter the conversation, “The recorder is fully intact and functional, aside from some of Sapien's trinkets in here. Now would you mind explaining what you meant earlier when you mentioned a 'syndicate problem?”

  A voice came from the front door, “She meant she owes us quite the sizable amount of money.”

  They all looked to see a drakkani standing in the doorway, taking off a fedora to reveal a very ornate headband, woven directly into his horns. Instantly, Akaila's nosebleed came back, along with her headache. Her mind raced, and some images in her memory flickered, like TV static, before adding him to the background, including when they were at the skydock and Tristan was whisked away.

  She spoke telepathically, too shocked to use actual words, “That's the psycher that slipped away with Tristan, he's been blocking our perceptions and stalking us this whole time.”

  He nodded appreciatively, “It's a testament to my abilities, and yours too I should say. Usually when I cloak up, nearby psychs get splitting migranes and their defenses flare up, but you, you're barely even hurting from it.”

  Jagra pulled a dagger from his belt, pointing it at the half-dragon, “Get to the point already, if you're here to kill us, quit wasting time on words.”

  He walked around them, seating himself at a table and pulling a flask from a pouch on his hip, taking a sip from it, “You can relax, Akaila's right, I've been shadowing you, and from that I now know the full story and just how full of shit Tristan was when he tried to say this was all due to an angry captain's wrath. It's worth noting he directly asked I kill Sapien before giving her a chance to speak. Quite the vindictive prick, no?”

  Sapien lowered Jagra's hand, “Then you also know the plan I have to compensate the syndicate for their loss.”

  He nodded to her, “And that's the exact reason why your truck didn't crash into a ditch on the way here.”

  The man in the lab coat coughed indignantly, and spoke with a heavy sarcasm, “Hello, how are you? Oh me? I'm fine, the name's Michael, by the way, and may I say it's quite delightful that you not only knocked before entering, but announced your name at the door too, so respectful and dignified of you!”

  He just grinned back at him before taking another sip of alcohol, “Human wit never fails to entertain. Helma. Helma Edor. My orders are to balance the books, there's no prices on anyone's heads specifically, so you can tell your intern it's safe to put the gun away.”

  He craned his neck, looking around a corner behind him and grinning wider, “Hi there.”

  A vulpren walked into the room, holding a combat shotgun at his hip, keeping it aimed at the assassin, “I'll be the judge of that, and don't try any of that will pusher mind trick shit, or I'll specifically aim for your genitals.”

  He laughed, putting the flask away and standing up, “Sapien, I'm sure you can handle explaining the situation to them, I merely revealed myself to make your case more convincing. The shipment was valued at two hundred and fifty thousand Eagles, but moreover it was meant for building a sizable amplifier to give us full telepathic coverage over the island and ensure a continued foothold. You can compensate us financially, or you can find an alternative means to give the same results such a machine would have allowed, I'll leave it up to you. We'll contact you again in twenty four hours to hear your decision.”

  With that he gave a wink and Akaila yelped loudly. The instant the attentions of the people in the room were pulled towards her, he was gone. The intern fired a shot where he'd been standing and hit the wall behind, then he aimed at the front door and fired, the buckshot ricocheting off the door and thankfully not hitting anyone.

  Michael jumped towards him and pulled the shotgun out of his hands, “Goddammit, Tulpa! I ought to bitchslap the fur right off that crooked face of yours!”

  He whimpered, pulling away, ears back, “I panicked.”

  There was a muffled laugh from the exterior door right before it closed and Akaila gave a sigh of relief, “He's gone.”

  Jagra raised an eyebrow, “Can you be sure of that?”

  “I started tracking him as soon as he exposed himself, he's outside now, I lost him when the door closed.”

  The wolf sighed, carrying the backpack to a rack of gear and attaching some cables to it, then spoke over his shoulder, “I'm gonna go out on a limb here and stitch the story together from what I've heard. This Tristan guy is a syndicate lackey, and when the ship went down, it took some expensive syndicate gear with it to the bottom that he was carrying, and in order to not have her fur used as a carpet in some mob boss's sitting room, Sapien arranged some insurance fraud with the data recorder, and was hoping that we'd play along to keep our best field researcher from becoming a throw rug.”

  “That's about the size of it, yeah.”

  Jagra commented in as well, “And her head's not the only one on the line, mine and the wolf's are too. There was a dragon with us, but they got to him before that assassin heard our side of the story.”

  Michael groaned, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, “Marcus, what do you think?”

  The wolf scoffed, “Me? I think it's a clusterfuck. However we don't have any choices at this point except continuing with the fraud.”

  “And why's that?”

  Marcus turned around, leaning against the equipment rack, a sadistic grin on his muzzle, “Because, we're all witnesses now, and I know you're too much of a pussy to fight back against syndicate gunmen, and too much of a prude to share any research data with them either.”
  “Anybody but you, I'd have fired you on the spot for that language.”
  “All the more reason to get my fill. On the insurance forms, it's just listed as a data recorder, right?”
  “Of course, it would defeat the purpose of the backpack camouflage to list details.”
  “Then we'll justify the successful data recovery as an emergency transmission. That huge spike we got on our long-range scanners earlier happened just before the ship went down, we could write that up as a beacon firing an encrypted signal to us, and other monitoring stations on the island would confirm our story. The only angle that doesn't cover is Sapien suddenly losing her backpack after arriving, an observant investigator would notice such a decorative and expensive looking backpack going missing. Since we don't need it anymore, I say we retire the recorder and let her keep it to maintain the cover story. Corporate would see this as the same unavoidable loss as the insurance company does, and our budget would be adjusted to buy a new one, unless there's an angle I'm missing here.”
  “Yeah, witnesses, Tulpa's only been here what, a week? I don't trust him not to talk if we tried such a plan.”

  Tulpa growled, bearing his teeth slightly, “You could at least pretend like you care if I'm in the room, and besides, there's another vulpren's life on the line here, if I talked, they'd try to kill me before I could testify in court, then I'd be a head on a mantel right above that throw rug.”

  Sapien shrugged, “Tulpa's right, we're all implicated in this, but we should make sure it doesn't go beyond this room. Anybody else we tell about this situation is potentially in just as much danger as we are if it falls apart.”

  Michael groaned, his own human imitation of a growl, “Fine. I don't like a single bit of it, but...you did get it here in one piece, despite unforseen complications...so I guess...you...”

  Marcus rolled his eyes, “Good god, man, just spit it out already!”

  Michael glared at him for a second before looking back at Sapien, “You did good, you completed your assignment with satisfactory performance, but if you want hazard pay out of this, you can take a flying leap.”

  She grinned, responding coyly with her head and one ear to the side, “But I already took a flying leap today.”

  “Then take another!”

  Michael stormed out of the room with Tulpa and the third man following, and Jagra scoffed, “I hope not everyone hereabouts is as soft-spined as that runt, or trigger happy as his assistant. If they are, I think I'd be safer back at the mine with Kessler.”

Jun 22, 2015

Averting Epsilon Chapter 2: A Minor Debt

  Tristan gathered his strength and started rummaging through the debris in a steadily growing panic. He managed to find three mythril ingots still embedded in the helm where Akaila's blast launched them. He collapsed to the ground, holding them, sobbing.

“No, no, no, I can't, no, no, this isn't...no.”

Sapien sighed and rolled her eyes, “It's just money. I lost a ship I built with my own paws, you don't see me crying over it.”

“You just don't get it, do you!?”

He threw one of the ingots at her in a rage before collapsing again, “Those belonged to the syndicate! When they find out...I'm dead...I'm already dead, and not just me, no!”

He got to his feet and ran towards her, “You're dead too! You let it happen! All of you! They'll hang our corpses up in a town square as an example!”

Sapien just smirked and poked his nose, “Boop!” and walked away, ears and tail both up, humming a tune to herself.

All four of them were left staring in confusion until Akaila probed at Sapien's thoughts, then she started laughing uncontrollably before following behind. She took up step next to her and said quiet enough for the others not to hear, “I won't tell them if you won't.”

“Aw, you spoiled the surprise! I'll have to wear a tinfoil hat next time.”
“You know those actually amplify brainwave transmission, not block it, right?”
“Exactly! I'd wear a foil hat and think about nothing but porn as loud as I can.”
“...You never take anything seriously, do you?”
“You've clearly never spent time around Vulprens.”

Jagra, Kessler, and Tristain caught up after gathering their things and they continued walking along the beach towards Nikolskoye, the town they were originally headed to.

The silence was growing steadily more uncomfortable until Kessler broke it, “So what are we going to do? I've dealt with those syndicate types before, they don't fuck around.”

Sapien glanced up at him with a chuckle, “Trust me, it'll be fine. So since we're apparently all waist-deep in this, we might as well get to know each other. You already know I'm a courier and Tristain's a smuggler, so what brings a dwarf, a drakkani, and a wolf to this corner of hell?”

Jagra spoke first, “Mining! What else would call a dwarf? I've mined in everything from limestone to obsidian, and I've never had an ore that bested me. I came here to try my pickaxe against Radeite crystal, and maybe gather some coin and women in the process!”

Kessler commented next, “While I don't share the midget's enthusiasm, I also came here for profit. Everyone else in my bloodline made it big in one industry or another by time they hit my age. Psionic ores are the only way I could profit fast enough to make up for lost time, and if I die trying, I still uphold the family honor, because I risked my life to make my fortune.”

Sapien glanced over at Akaila, “And you?”

“Well...”

She whimpered lightly under her breath, ears back, and rubbed at the amplifier on her head.

“I came here for a cure.”

All four of the others stopped mid-step. She sighed and continued with more strength in her voice, “I came here to find a cure for psyching. Lets just leave it at that.”

She continued walking and Sapien hastily caught up, pressing for more, “Okay now you should know how those words are gonna hit a vixen. What do you mean cure? Since when is telepathy a disease?”

She snarled and started walking faster, but Sapien kept up with her, “I'm not gonna just drop this, I've never heard of a psycher referring to their abilities like they're a disea-”

She stopped and whipped around, her teeth snapping shut inches from Sapien's snout before growling at her, “You saw me on that deck, you saw the pain, what, you think that's the first time that's happened!? I never asked for this, I never wanted any of it, these abilities were forced on me!”

She turned and continued walking, leaving Sapien standing there as the others caught up again. Kessler smirked as they all started walking and commented to her, “If I were you, I'd drop the topic before she eats you.”

“Oh please, like anybody would eat me.”
“I would.”

She glared up at him and he suffixed the comment, “I do love my junk food, after all.”

There was another period of uncomfortable silence before they spotted a group of small airships, painted bright orange, leaving the town and heading towards the wreck in the distance. Tristan fired a flare and one changed course, making a landing nearby them.

A human man climbed down, heading over to them, and Sapien greeted him, “I take it you're the rescue team?”

“If you're from that ship that just went down, yeah, we are.”

“I'm the captain. It was just the five of us on board. The cause of the crash was our fuel running out, so you don't need to worry about explosion risks.”

“Were you hauling anything hazardous?”

“There was unshielded mythril on board, but as soon as I discovered it, I had all of it we could find tossed overboard, we might have missed a few ingots though.”

“Unshielded mythril? Did you find out what dumb smuggler was sneaking it onboard your ship?”

Sapien glanced at Tristan, “He got confrontational, we had to throw him overboard too.”

The man noticed her glance and looked at Tristan, “Right...we can give you transport into town. If the ship or cargo was insured, I can drop you at the skydock so you can file the claim.”

“That's exactly where I need to go.”

She smirked and looked towards Tristan, “I had the ship insured for a sizable amount, it's an irreplaceable prototype, after all.”

He furled his brow at her, but remained silent even as they boarded the rescue vessel. It wasn't until they were stepping from the ship onto the skydock that he spoke, “You knew the whole damn time and you were going to leave me thinking I'm good as dead.”

“I'm a vulpren, it's kinda what we do. I am going to need you to keep quiet for now though.”
“And why's that?”
“If the insurance company hears I'm handing over part of the settlement to a third party right away, they'll believe it was insurance fraud.”
“Fair point.”

After several silent moments, he gave a sly remark, “So how much is my silence worth to you?”

Jagra reached up and slapped him hard on the back of the head, “If they think it's fraud, she never sees a penny, and neither does your strawboss, so we're all dead. That includes you, ya greedy bastard.”

They arrived at the shipping office to find several people already waiting. Two vulprens, one a fox and one a vixen, both advanced in years greeted Sapien with a worried hug and dozen questions, but as they all stood in the corridors outside the insurance office, Akaila's eyes kept twitching, and she couldn't seem to keep one ear from folding back. She kept trying to figure out the cause, and turned to ask Tristan if he brought any of the mythril with him, but when she did, he was gone, as was her twitch.

Kessler and Jagra gave their testimonies and answered questions before being allowed to head off their own ways with Sapien's assurances she'd handle any Syndicate issues that may try to follow them. Akaila on the other hand stayed there, not giving an explanation as to why until after Sapien stepped back out of the insurance office, pulling her aside quickly,

“They're coming for you.”

She looked up at the wolf quizzically, “Come again?”

“The Syndicate, they grabbed Tristan while we weren't looking, another psycher must have clouded our perceptions or something, he told them everything, and they decided it's easier to just eliminate witnesses than risk you going to the authorities.”
“That would mean Jagra and Kessler are in danger too.”
“Maybe, my clairvoyance is limited, I didn't get any foreboding from them.”
“Well thanks, regardless. Did your crystal ball happen to say when or how they'd come after me?”
“Not how, but it happens the second you leave this building, your life ends there if something doesn't change the course of events.”

She looked around the building for a way out. It was a sizable complex, a large central room with several branching halls and offices, and a guard at every corner. High-end recording devices scanned over every passageway, and glints and glimmers of hidden amplifiers gave away that several of the guards were also psychers, nobody in their right mind would perform an assassination there. As she pondered an escape route, she questioned Akaila,

“Isn't clairvoyance usually restricted to people the psycher has a close relationship to?”
“Usually.”
“So is that your way of saying we're friends now?”
“Don't read too much into it, there's a reason I want to get rid of this...it's...unpredictable.”
“I know you're the psychic here, but I can't help but get the impression there's something very important about those abilities you keep trying your damnedest to hide.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“More noticable than the wings on your back...bingo!”
“What?”
“How much weight can you carry in the air?”

She blinked in confusion, ears back and head tilted. Sapien just giggled and pointed straight up at an open skylight.

Before she had a chance to say anything, Akaila grabbed her by the brass backpack and lifted her into the air, flying up towards the skylight rapidly. She tossed the vixen through, then grabbed the frame and climbed through herself, getting the attention of several guards in the process. Akaila could feel the eyes of other psychers on her, their minds prying at hers, so she just broadcast a beacon back to them with two words, “Danger. Outside.”

She grabbed Sapien and moved her behind a cooling unit, both of them seeking cover, and she waited, probing the situation around them. She growled in frustration as her senses couldn't reach out far enough, but was suddenly snapped out of it by her own thoughts reverberating off a nearby source. She looked down to see a small mythril ingot being shoved into her hands.

Sapien just grinned, “I kept one for evidence, just in case we had to go to the police.”

“But how...”
“Brass backpack. It insulated it.”

She smirked back, glancing sideways at her, then focused on it, using it as an antenna. The foggy area around them was suddenly much clearer and more vibrant. She was able to pick up the thoughts of everyone nearby with ease.

She patiently and silently listened. Several guards were sent outside, and a twinge of alarm came from several spots outside, positioned at all the exits, hired guns. One stepped away to make a phone call to his boss, there was her window. She grabbed Sapien again and both of them took to the air, sailing right over his head as he was looking down to dial. By time his gaze went back to the skydock station, they were already gone.

Sapien called above the wind to Akaila, “We need to head for the Eastgate mining office, that's where they said they'd be if I needed them, and odds are there's already somebody on their way to arrange an accident.”

“Right!”


Akaila banked sharply and took off towards the mining office as fast as her wings would carry her.

Jun 17, 2015

Averting Epsilon Chapter 1: Brace For Impact

  So, you want to hear the story of Epsilon? Well that, as cheesy as it sounds, starts and ends in the same place.

You see, you can't beam radio signals into infinite space, with a functional possibility of infinite worlds, and expect nobody to pick up the phone. And when that phone is picked up, you better not piss off the guy on the other end.

Well, somebody did pick up. And somebody pissed them off. I don't want to ruin the surprises for you, so I'll hold back exactly what happened next. In the meantime, our story, like I said, begins and ends in the same place, a perpetual storm around the Bering islands.

This odd storm appeared one day in 1908, and simply never died down. Other inexplicable weather events happened at the same time, equally as unusual, and along with them came various new forces of nature that at first were simply called magic. If the inhabitants even knew half the reason for them, they'd realize magic was the least of their worries.

Shortly after the appearance of these new forces, it was discovered they were orders of magnitude stronger and more prevalent near these weather flukes, so despite the risks, people would venture into these regions seeking fortunes. Very few could get safely past the one surrounding Bering island, but those who could made a decent living by ferrying fortune seekers through the never ending typhoon.

We start our story with one such pilot, a young irish vixen named Sapien. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Part of the appearance of those storms and forces of magic were the appearance of non-human sentient creatures. Barring total retrograde amnesia, they were perfectly normal people, and quickly integrated into society after the initial panic subsided. Or at least, that's what the history books say.



Sapien looked out over the clouds with a troubled sigh. She'd made this crossing several dozen times before, but she'd never seen currents this bad. With a turn on a dial the bank of crystals below decks glowed brighter, broiling heat rolling from them and flushing the balloons with scalding hot gasses.

Between the ballast and the steam turbines, she was pushing the crystals to dangerously high temperatures, but she didn't have a choice if she wanted to stay above the hurricane force winds looming below. The feeling of unease she got when she picked up her passengers for this crossing was only growing stronger with every lightning bolt in the churning carpet spanning the horizons.

She went below decks and roused them, tossing her telescope to the nearest, a disturbingly large half-dragon, “On your feet, Kessler, you lot have some questions to answer.”

He grumbled, lifting a blanket from his face, “Since when do I answer questions from a kobald?”

“It's Vulpren, not kobald, and if you take that tone again, you're gonna be flying on your own wings the rest of the way.”

“Okay, so, since when do I answer questions from food?”

“That's better. The storm's picking up as we're nearing the island, I need everybody awake in case we need to start dumping cargo.”

A dwarf, Jagra, looked up from his napping, “What do you mean 'picking up' I heard that storm's been the same for centuries.”

“You heard wrong. It has a mind of its own, and something about you four is upsetting it. Normally I have a policy not to ask questions, but if any of you is harboring something that might be agitating the energies here, I need to know about it, preferably before we're falling to our deaths.”

Akaila, a winged whitewolf, grimaced before tapping on her tiara, a gold band that hooked over her canine ears and crested her brow in a gem-tipped V shape, “This might be doing it. Psionic amplifier.”

“No, I ship things like that all the time, it takes something bigger to upset this storm.”

The dwarf scoffed, “You mean like something too big to fit on this ship, something maybe we're not carrying and you're accusing us over for nothing?”

A human with the group gave out a long, distressed sigh, “I think I know what it is.”

Kessler raised an eyeridge, “Something you care to share, Tristan?”

“You could say that...would 200 stone worth of mythril interfere with that amplifier of yours?”

Sapien's eyes went wide, as did those of the others. She jumped across the room, her clawed fingers digging into his shoulders and her feet both planted in his gut, shouting “That's what's in those crates!? What kind of dumb ape moves that much mythril in a single shipment!?”

Jagra snarled the words at her, “That kind, apparently.”

Tristan pried her claws away, “We needed a currency light enough to ship by air, the syndicate never said anything about a damned psycher being on board this ship.”

She growled at him, baring her teeth, “Well thanks to your ignorance, the syndicate might just find their shipment waiting at the bottom of the ocean.”

Sapien rushed back out to the decks and took another survey of the clouds before making a course adjustment. Akaila hurried out behind her and timidly asked, “Is it still possible to turn back? I wouldn't want people to be in danger because of me.”

“It's too late for that, we don't have enough fuel to turn back at this point, and besides, it's not your fault, it's monkey of the year back there and his blood money that's likely to get us killed.”

Sounds of yelling and a struggle drew their attention back to the doors leading below decks and to Jagra and Kessler both struggling to bring a crate on deck despite Tristan's efforts to stop them.

Sapien ran towards them, scolding, “What are you morons doing!?”

Kessler responded while parrying Tristan away with his tail, “We're dumping this stuff before it gets us killed!”

“You're bringing it too close to her!”

Akaila was already on hands and knees as Sapien said those words, clutching her head tightly. Thunder was crackling in the storm below, and the clouds started rising rapidly.

Sapien shouted above the rumbling, “This ship's hull is brass! It was insulating her from the mythril!”

Jagra looked back and forth between her and the crate, “Well just get that amplifier off her head then!”

Akaila whimpered above growing pain, “I can't! It's fused! Don't you know how a psycher even works!?”

“We've got no choice but to toss it then.”

He picked the crate back up and made for the railing, but a strong current of wind rushed up from the clouds below and slammed into the ship, making him lose his balance and drop it. The crate smashed to the deck and sent mythril ingots scattering, several dozen coming to a stop around Akaila. She screamed in agony and blacked out, releasing a massive psionic pulse, sending the bars flying away as chunks of shrapnel, the passengers dropping to the deck to get out of the way.

As several ingots fell overboard and into the storm, the energy they'd been leeching from her was released, fueling the currents around them. In only seconds, strong winds grabbed the ship and pulled it down into the tempest.

Sapien took the helm, turning off the auto pilot and doing her best to keep the ship level as it rapidly lost altitude. Freezing rain sprayed from all directions and hail pummeled the decks and started clogging the turbines, their steady roar turning into ear-splitting clanks and groans as they struggled to keep their speed against the onslaught of icy debris.

She called to the others as loud as she could, “Jagra, get Akaila below decks and secure her in my cabin, Tristan, go to the galley and pull the red tabs above the range until you hear a crack, then do the same in the bilge and hold on the tabs you find there. Kessler, get all of your lot's valuables out of the hold and crew quarters and move them to my cabin, and leave the damned mythril!”

Tristan did as instructed, and found three massive steel pins above the range, painted bright red and anchored into the brass superstructure of the airship. It took all of his strength to wrench them out, and with each one, the entire ship shuddered and loud cracks rolled through it.

He went to the hold and did the same, crossing paths with Kessler as he frantically carried their possessions towards the captain's quarters. Kessler unloaded an armful of boxes and bags to the sight of Jagra tying Akaila to a bed.

He barely had time to secure her in place before Tristan pulled the last of the pins and creaks and groans rolled through the entire ship. Splits began opening in the hull and he ran towards the bow as fast as he could, jumping the last of the distance as he saw nearly half the ship's bulk falling into the inky blackness below, splashing on the surface of an alarmingly close ocean.

With the bulk of the ship's weight gone, it was no longer a cruiser and was suddenly a frigate on a cruiser's balloons, slingshotting back into the sky, all of them gripping tightly to whatever they could as wind and hail lashed at it. As the crystal bank began smoking, and the pummeled turbines began knocking against their housings, sunlight started filtering through the clouds again. Seconds later, they rocketed through the canopy and into clear blue skies again, but only briefly as they peaked in altitude and the battered engines finally gave, a deafening clang signaling the end of the starboard turbine, rotor blades falling into the clouds below.

With Akaila unconscious and most of the mythril cargo jettisoned into the ocean below, the storm started calming, but the damage was already done. The drained crystals flickered and fluttered before going completely dark. Sapien shut down the port turbine to compensate for the lost engine and left the aft running on residual steam, but it would only be a few minutes before she lost pressure.

The three men staggered onto the decks, but her glance back towards them wasn't reassuring, “We've lost all heat in the boiler, we're gonna lose pressure soon. The reserve fuel crystals were in the section we had to dump, so I've got nothing to relight the boiler with.”

Kessler raised an eyeridge, “You've got me.”

“Those boilers are designed to take type III fuel crystals, even dragon fire can't get that hot.”

“It'll limp it along though. Just keep us pointed towards the nearest land and I'll put as much fire in those as I can muster.”

Jagra stopped him as he went towards the door, “Open my pack, there's a small keg in there, dwarven ale, that should kick up your flame by a good margin.”

“Will do.”

He went to Sapien's cabin, now the only cabin on the ship, and started rummaging in Jagra's supplies for the keg. Akaila woke to the sound and struggled on the ropes tying her to the bed, “Hey, a little help here?”

He snipped them away with his tailblade and kept looking for the keg, finding it moments later. Akaila blinked and looked around, sniffing at the smoke in the air, “Did we land yet?”

“Far from it, but nearest I can tell all the mythril went overboard when we dumped the aft section of the ship.”

“When you dumped the what!?”

He gave her a half salute and a chuckle, then hurried to the boiler room. He opened the access hatch to a blinding wave of heat, scalding even to his dragonscaled face. Before he had a chance to second-guess it, he took a mouthful of the ale and released a torrent of flame into the heat chamber.

With the alcohol augmenting his flame, he was able to restore some power, and each exhale from him brought with it a slight increase in the ship's turbine speed, but between the rapid deep breaths required for the flame, and the potent ale seeping into his tongue and piercing his sinuses, he was growing rapidly dizzy and light-headed.

Eventually the keg ran empty, and so did his stamina. He closed the hatch and slumped down next to the boiler, not sure if it was the ship or his own head spinning, but the extra heat bought them valuable altitude, and Sapien managed to clip the inner edges of the clouds, escaping the storm and declaring “Land ho!” as the island they were destined for approached on the horizon, dead center in the typhoon's eye.

She siphoned what steam she could into one of the auxiliary tanks and held it there as they steadily lost altitude in the now stable and gentile breeze. She warned them to brace for impact as the ground approached rapidly, and released the boiler's final breath into the last remaining turbine to slow them right before landing.

The slowing was significant, but not enough to save the ship's keel, which buckled and collapsed on impact and rendered the vessel a total wreck. With the exception of Sapien they all climbed out and onto the beach, collapsing in both exhaustion and relief, except for Kessler, who's movements were closer to drunken slithering.

Sapien emerged from the wreck several minutes later, dragging a massive brass slab, big as a backpack compared to her small vulpine form. Indeed, as she climbed down, a pair of woven chain straps assembled themselves from two corners and she put it on as such.


She looked at the wreck with a disdainful sigh, then at the four weary travellers, “You do realize you all owe me a new ship now, right?”

Jun 3, 2015

Coming In Hot!; Why things burn up when they enter the atmosphere.

Have you ever seen a shooting star? If you have, then you've seen why aeronautic engineers don't take hyper-sonic speed lightly. Anyone who's felt wind on their skin knows what wind chill is. A common misconception is that it's the wind itself that's causing the cooling.

Human skin is usually warmer than the surrounding air, and as such slightly heats the air around it. Any given person walking around is carrying their own thin bubble of hot air. When the wind blows, your protective blanket of heat is blown away with it, and you're exposed to the real air temperature. In higher humidities this is more pronounced because water is a very efficient thermal conductor.

In commercial airliners, the ice that can form on their wings isn't due to wind, as some people believe, but due to altitude. The same temperature gradient that allows snow to fall on mountains while it's 80 (F) degrees in the valley continues as altitude increases, getting as low as 40 degrees (F) below zero at the altitude commercial airliners fly at. It's not surprising ice will form when it's that cold out.

Now we get to the part those two paragraphs were leading up to; frictional and compressive heating. When air moves, it's just like any other moving object, and there's friction involved. In the form of air movement it's called "wind resistance" and at high velocities it can translate into a lot of heat. Wind rubbing over an aircraft hull can be just like rubbing your hands together, and at supersonic speeds generates just as much heat.

Compressive heating works slightly different and is best compared to a diesel engine. Diesel engines don't use spark plugs to ignite their fuel, instead they use incredibly high compression ratios and very rapid compression speeds to heat pockets of air until the fuel vapors in it ignite from the heat.

What's happening is that any given volume of air has a certain amount of thermal energy in it. When you compress the air, that same energy is now taking up a smaller space, meaning the energy density is now higher, and in diesel engines this is high enough to set things on fire. This heating, while significant and very useful in industry, has its limits, and these limits are actually used to protect spacecraft on re-entry.

Ever since Project Gemini heat shields have been used to take the brunt of that atmospheric heating, exploiting the limits of compressive heating to allow them to handle re-entry with slightly less cooked astronauts. These heat shields have deliberately high drag, compressing air in front of them. This compressed air forms two distinct layers called the shock layer and the boundary layer.

The shock layer is where the bulk of heat takes place. Incoming air is displaced violently by the supersonic vehicle. In the case of the now retired NASA space shuttle and the ill-fated Buran shuttle, this heating was intense enough that it actually broke down atmospheric molecules into their base atoms.

There's no denying that the shock layer is a violent place, in fact it's the pressure wave created by the shock layer around supersonic planes that causes the sonic boom you hear as they rip by overhead. Hypersonic re-entry vehicles are able to survive this through a combination of heat insulation and the compressive heating. By making themselves have a high drag, they drag a pocket of air with them, this is called the boundary layer.

The boundary layer acts as a buffer between the vehicle and the intensely heated shock layer, like the oil in a pan that keeps cooked food from scalding; yeah, it's hot, but it's not as hot as the metal pan below.

So.

This will probably make you ask the question; Why do they have to enter going so fast?

Well that's a matter of orbital mechanics. As The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy famously states: "There is an art to flying, or rather a knack. Its knack lies in learning to throw yourself at the ground and miss. ... Clearly, it is this second part, the missing, that presents the difficulties."

Orbit is achieved by moving sideways so fast that by time you fall down, that direction is no longer down because the planet has moved beneath you. In Low Earth Orbit This takes moving at 15,000 miles per hour (24,140Kph) which translates to mach 20, 20 times the speed of sound.

Getting up to that speed is one thing. Getting up to that speed and still having enough fuel to slow back down is another. Orbital spacecraft have to rely on chemical thrusters to operate outside of our atmosphere, and these engines, while powerful, are far less fuel-efficient than those that take advantage of the readily available oxygen in the air around us.

When spacecraft re-enter, they can slow themselves down a lot, but they're still typically travelling above Mach 10, and at those speeds heat in the shock layer around an aircraft causes the atmosphere to heat to incandescence, the separation of molecules into atoms energizing the atmosphere so much it forms a glowing charged plasma around it (this is the "fire" you see around them)

Now comes the fun part. Surely, you must be asking, if something were light enough and wind resistant enough, it could slow down to safe speeds long before hitting the thicker lower atmosphere and thus avoid burning up.

This is not only possible, but it happens all the time. If you have ready access to a rooftop that doesn't see any foot traffic and happen to have a high powered magnet available, you can collect your own meteorites. Most meteorites contain iron, and tiny, nearly microscopic ones are impacting earth all the time. These meteorites are so tiny they slow down long before heating up and fall harmlessly to the ground. Large, flat, impermeable surfaces make ready-made collectors for these.

On smooth metal roofs, rain water will wash them away, but if you live in a desert there's no rain to wash them off, and if you have tar shingles, they can become wedged among the pieces of gravel embedded in the tar. A few passes with a magnet and you've got a fistful of stardust.

As propulsion technology continues to advance, there exists a real possibility of making spacecraft that slow down just as efficiently as these bits of space debris, removing astronaut's worries of a very toasty home trip, and opening the door to colonization of space. Indeed, the day may come when our great great grandchildren look at pictures of a space shuttle and ask "What kind of crazy person would think that was a safe way to land?"

Wise Words Of The Day:
"Later, I realized that the mission had to end in a let-down because the real barrier wasn't in the sky but in our knowledge and experience of supersonic flight."
~Chuck Yeager

May 25, 2015

F2P MMO; Why The Shiny Bits Cost Extra

We've all been there. All of us gamers have heard about a new Free To Play game coming out, so we find it, make a profile, download it, then finally install it and start playing. Then, just a few minutes in, you see some guy with a rainbow suit of armor shoot you with an ion cannon and proceed to loot your corpse from fifty feet away before flying away like superman. You think "Wow, I want to be that overpowered on this game!" so you look up the gear you saw him using, and bam, paywall.

Rainbow Cape; $15
Personal Ion Cannon; $5
Telekinetic Corpse Lootatron; $9.95

It's an infuriating situation; while some of us are perfectly content paying for those awesome bits (and nobody can argue a gay pride caped crusader is something of awe and wonder) we can still feel ripped off sometimes. So why is it that a game that brands itself as "free to play" then proceeds to try to get you to pony up? Well, the answer to that depends entirely upon the company that's doing it.

Theres something of a triangle made of the three primary motivations for charging money for premium content in a game, and those are; Turning a profit. Paying your employees. Keeping your servers online. And to that end, I'm going to reference three companies that represent the three farthest corners of that triangle and how it's affected the type, pricing, and selection of premium content in their titles; EA Games, FreeJam Games, Wargaming Public Co Ltd.


1: Turning a Profit.

There's no denying that EA games milks money out of their players at every opportunity. From their now discontinued $10 Online Pass to their $50 premium package on top of the already $50 Battlefield 4, it always seems like EA is trying to siphon money from people with half-baked, heavily rushed games...but why is this?

The Programmers at EA games certainly show pride in their work, and never fail to deliver stunning eye-candy and special effects, but the number of glitches, errors, and broken content always leaves us feeling like we're playing something that they weren't quite done working on. Well the explanation for that is as painful as it is simple; EA Games is a publicly traded company.

Being publicly traded means that EA games has an obligation to the stockholders to maintain maximum profit at all times, and good programmers cost money. Due to the 20/80 rule, this means that from a financial perspective, hunting down every single bug and glitch becomes a point of diminishing return, and in the corporate world, saying those words gets your mouth washed out with soap.

EA Games executives are forced to make a call, to determine when the game is "done enough" and release it in whatever state they managed to get it to. After that, they still have an obligation to get as much money as possible out of it; enter the premium content.

Premium content is what pays for continued updates and repairs on the games, and it's so pricey and draconian with EA Games titles because the only way they can justify that to the stockholders is if the continued maintenance of the game is generating more money than it's consuming.

Suffice to say, they're not lying when they say "It's not extortion; it's just good business practice."


2: Keeping Your Servers Online

Even with only one game on the table, Robocraft, FreeJam Games has proven themselves to be a solid contender in the game community, holding a top 50 position on Indie DB for several months, beating out titles like Space Engineers and Minecraft. They've managed to garner a lot of respect from the community, which is saying a lot considering their paltry development team of some 18 individuals (exact number unverified)

All of this popularity comes at a price, however. At the time of writing this article, Robocraft's gameplay is 100% online, even player vehicles and progress are stored on remote servers. This means a lot of data handling, a lot of bandwidth, and a lot of processing power are needed to keep everything running smooth; and those servers cost money. A lot of it.

In early 2014, Mark Simmons, CEO of FreeJam, was quoted as saying their server costs at the time were $1200 a month. Since then, the game has continued to grow, currently averaging between 15 and 20 thousand players online at once.

I've had a few chances to talk with Orcun Adsoy about how FreeJam pays for this, and the one point that has always remained steadfast in our discussions was "We don't do pay-to-win." even going so far as to say there was a note in the meeting room reading "We will never make gold ammo" in reference to the borderline game-breaking premium ammunition available in World Of Tanks, purchased with "Gold" premium currency, thus, gold ammo.

So if they're never going to make gold ammo, how are they going to make the money to maintain the servers? Enter the rainbow cape from our gay pride caped crusader. Not all premium content has to give you a competitive edge; sometimes just having extra eye-candy is enough. This appeals to a primal part of the brain, an instinct known as peacocking, and lets attention seekers get their attention at a nominal fee, while not leaving those who can't afford it feeling like they're being victimized.

All cosmetic items in Robocraft's shop have T1 armor, that is to say they have the same durability as the weakest armor in the game, meaning they flake off readily in enemy gunfire. This can even endorse a kind of counter-play, in that the player who can't afford cosmetic items will feel great satisfaction in shooting that gold-plated tophat off of Mr. Moneybags, sending the battle-ready millionaire scurrying for cover.

They have premium membership, just like many other MMO's, but in their case premium players give a splash effect to other players in the match. While the premium player gets double the payout from his match, everyone else gets a 5% paycheck boost, and it stacks. Four premium players in a platoon together, enjoying that one extra platoon slot premium players get, will be conferring a 20% paycheck boost to all other players in the game, making them feel like they're getting a little premium too.

This seems like a very Utopian approach to premium content, but FreeJam can only afford it because they're a small company with minimal expenses; they don't have to sign the thousands of weekly paychecks of our next entry.


3: Paying Your Employees.

Wargaming is a household name, many people are familiar with their flagship title World Of Tanks and of their numerous publicity events and seasonal promotions. Of all the things Wargaming is and isn't, one thing people can be sure of is they keep their name prominent in the online gaming world.

One thing people might not realize is that a company spending that much on marketing is going to have some big bills to pay. Convention centers charge rent. Manufacturers charge licensing fees. Servers charge maintenance, and being a world record holder for the most people online at once means that's a pretty big server maintenance bill.

One could argue that since server maintenance is proportional to the number of players, and that since player generated revenue is per-capita that it can't be considered a factor for a company remaining profitable. One would be arguing correctly and legitimately if not for an outside factor; Wargaming employs 4000-5000 people at any given point in time, not counting contractors, freelancers, and hired external companies. Wargaming has to tip the scales just a little bit in their favor to keep their budget in the black; enter Gold Ammo.

Premium ammunition, or Gold Ammo as the community has come to call it, is a type of ammunition unique to each weapon in World Of Tanks, which gives the player a competitive edge against other players. A tank that normally only has high explosive or armor piercing ammunition choices could buy HEAT anti-tank rounds for premium money, ensuring not only armor penetration, but a nice bit of damage on top.

By charging premium money for a consumable resource instead of a one-time purchase, Wargaming ensures a steady stream of money from the players willing to pay for it, but this does put a sour taste in the mouth of those who can't afford it or just don't want to spend real world money on a digital item.

The premium content doesn't stop there, obviously. Wargaming also has FreeJam-esque cosmetic content, allowing people to put decals and custom paintjobs on their vehicles, train crews faster, get better equipment loadouts, buy premium-only high-end tanks, and in general smooth out the entire gameplay experience. In fact, grinding in World Of Tanks is deliberately slow for the expressed purpose of motivating people to buy premium content.

So Wargaming, while wanting to deliver a quality game, is forced to make compromises to keep the bills paid, and EA games is held on a leash by the stockholders. While everybody would love to be a community-minded company like FreeJam, sometimes it's simply not possible, and corners have to be cut.


So the next time you see a commercial for game pre-order content, or get prompted to buy gems, or gold, or galaxy cash, don't think "God how much money do they want?" think "God how much money do they need?" because odds are, it's just them trying to stay in business.

Wise Words Of The Day:
"Our incomes are like our shoes; if too small, they gall and pinch us; but if too large, they cause us to stumble and to trip."
~John Locke

May 18, 2015

Signal Attenuation; why DSL is "Up to X speed" and not "Available at X speed"

--A thanks to Compwiz for his help in research and fact-checking for this

We've all seen the commercials, a communications company saying their new DSL service is available "up to" a certain speed, or with speeds "potentially as high as" But why is that? Surely if their hardware can handle those speeds, then it should be available to everyone, right? Well, it's annoyingly wrong because of the X-factor of an aging infrastructure in the United States and a behavior of copper wire known as "signal attenuation" which is, in its basest explanation, the loss of signal over distance.

Data sent by DSL modems is an electrical packet, which is power. Power running through copper wire, or any metal wire for that matter, will entropy over distance due to resistance and interference causing attenuation (decay) of the signal. If you think of a wire like a hose and electricity like the water, resistance is the friction in that hose which makes it harder to pump it over longer distances. Sending data packets is like sending pulses of hot and then cold water down that hose. The worse the attenuation in the line, the faster the hot water cools down and the cold water warms up. To get data from one end to the other, it has to not only arrive, but still be the right temperature.

In a smooth, featureless hose, that would be simple, but that's not the case. Old and worn out networks, different gauges of wire used, and splices made improperly are like kinks, connectors, and different size hoses on the line, and with each of those the water passes through, the hot and cold are going to get a bit harder to pump and a bit more mixed together.

A single packet could be: 1110010110101011010110110010110

But how can you know it's still the packet that was sent with all these things affecting the line?

The answer is with checksums. All of the "1" data in that packet adds up to 18, so a checksum would be sent with it that says "18" If the packet gets damaged, then the data will no longer add up to 18, and it's considered corrupted. Likewise, if the checksum gets damaged, it could suddenly read "7714" and the same applies.

When a modem connects to an ISP's server, it performs something known as a "handshake" tossing packets with these checksums back and forth at ever-faster rates until they begin failing. When the failure point is reached, the modem backs up a little bit, sending the packets slower, with longer 1's and 0's at a higher power level, to ensure they won't be lost.

If the interference in the line increases, though, then it can begin dropping packets. if the packet loss gets above a threshold, then the modem severs the DSL connection and performs the handshake again, to calibrate itself to the new speed limits. This is what's usually happening when a DSL connection goes out for a few minutes at a time.

Fiber lines, which have already replaced copper in the nation's backbone infrastructure solve this by using light signals inside a fiber optic cable. Fiber optic still suffers from attenuation and resistance, but at radically lesser values. Also, the data is being sent with light, which travels...at the speed of light. This is why most landline internet connections will have low latency, because the bulk of their travel distance is now handled by these high-speed, high-reliability lines and very few checksums fail due to interference.

So why isn't fiber available everywhere?

Well, running aerial cables is expensive, and there's a lot of cable in the United States. A government article covers just how expensive it is maintaining the grid, let alone upgrading it. In the past, when one electrical system was being phased out by another it was as simple as waiting for a section to need repairs then taking that opportunity to upgrade it cheaply, but with the leap to fiber optic that can't be done, as it uses an entirely different method for transmission and whole regions need the upgrade at once, or it fails to deliver.

It all boils down to how expensive it is to deliver fiber optic service to an end-user, and sadly there's simply not enough motivation for the companies with the money to afford it to go and make that kind of investment.

There's good news to be had, though; As computer usage continues to expand and the demand for high-speed, high-reliability internet continues to grow there will be a turning point when companies start seeing it as being worth the expense, and delivering the next generation of high-speed service to the end-user.

If you'd like to learn more about this topic and get into the technical nitty-gritty of it, there's a very informative blog by Directcom and an article on HowStuffWorks that both get into the science behind this.

Wise words of the day:
"Eloquence is the power to translate a truth into language perfectly intelligible to the person to whom you speak."
~Ralph Waldo Emerson