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BRAD HOW DARE YOU BE FASTER THAN ME AND IRONICALLY POST THE SAME THING I WAS GOING TO POST!

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"We don't call them loot boxes", they're 'surprise mechanics'" - EA

 

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"Here. I'll trade my glasses for my arm."

"Fair trade. The practicality of good sight and also focusing lenses for one's arm. Done"

You suddenly feel like a rugby captain punched you in the elbow and laughed because a jolt went up one side of your body with the proper accompanying sensations of pressure and violence. Looking down at your shoulder, it looks and feels as if you totally hadn't landed almost on your face from a 100 foot drop. However you've lost the ability to discern detail beyond about eight yards, which may hamper your ability to run in the future. Oh well, this is a cerebral game anyways.

You look at your surroundings, now taking in how you will be perceiving the world for the time being, as if it were photographed by an art student who invested too much money in Depth-of-Field lenses.

Someone is cackling at the far end of the pipe.

Obvious exits have not changed.

The moustachioed banknote appears to have changed, the figurehead looks either kind of worried, or Challenge Accepted guy.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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You dive down and see a dead mouse.

Upon surfacing you now remember that this liquid smells a lot like engine antifreeze.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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You might be starving, the dead mouse is only source of food, so eat mouse.

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"We don't call them loot boxes", they're 'surprise mechanics'" - EA

 

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Ingesting the antifreeze-marinated mouse gave you some kind of superpower in your legs because of the crystal you were carrying. You can feel that they're different, although they don't move or look any different, and you can still sense the passage of time as normal, so you probably aren't a device that needs to travel 88 miles per hour in order to function.

Why the crystal didn't interact with the antifreeze earlier, we may never know. Also, the crystal caught fire, so you tossed it away in surprise. It would be a bad idea to try and get it back since it looks like it's hopping around on the antifreeze like potassium in water, and is liable to explode.

Obvious exits are SOUTH to where you landed, NORTH to the Umbrella Man and WEST down the pipe.

You are no longer hungry, but that mouse tasted less than tangy.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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You stream down the pipe at incredible speed- your legs must be either super strong or super fast (or both). Either way you end up nearly jamming your head into a ladder at the opposite end of the pipe. Looking up you see where the ladder leads, another squarish opening, with a door that just closed as if you almost caught up to someone escaping.

Somehow that reminds you of something to do with opening a door with your pistol trained down a hallway, with another figure following close behind...

Below you, the ladder terminates in the concrete floor of the pipe. NORTH of the ladder is a small opening about the size of a basketball, and SOUTH is another very similar opening.

Out of each opening have come a centipede. The two centipedes are about the size of large dogs and sound unnaturally alike a washing machine.

They look like they can swim and may be able to use door knobs or flank those equipped with shotguns. If it's any consolation, you do not have a shotgun right now.

The centipedes are EAST of you. NORTH and SOUTH are openings large enough to throw something inside but not large enough to climb into.

The jowls on the centipedes almost looks like a smiley face.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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Before you can raise your arm, one of them lunges at you, hitting you in the ribs and knocking you into a cartwheel spin, making you inadvertently roundhouse kick the centipede into five pieces.

"That's one way to say goodbye!" you exclaim to the other centipede as you rocket up the ladder, almost hitting your head again against the steel hatch. Pushing it open brings you into a large, quiet cavernous tunnel quite unlike the concrete one filled with antifreeze. It's made of a tough looking steely metal on all sides, with flat columns supporting a slightly arched ceiling. It is somewhat lit by ceiling lights that are quite far apart, but more than that is a large green lamp protruding from the floor quite near the hatch. You find a bit of metal that must weigh about 40 pounds even though it's the length of your arm, and rest it on the hatch to prevent the centipede from getting out.

Here you notice that there is a little hood on the green lamp, so that its only pointing one direction. The middle of the tunnel floor has large blocks the size of squashed couches, lined in single file with gaps in between them only about an inch or less.

You can travel SOUTH down the Tunnel or NORTH.

A wind blowing from the NORTH to the SOUTH whistles through your hair.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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Do a crab walk North.

I don't like writer's block, I prefer to call it writer's parry.

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You start doing a crab walk with impunity because of the wonderous power of your legs. You begin to consider the possibility of getting on the floor or opening the door just so you could walk the dinosaur in context, but the hatch is now already quite a distance behind you.

You look up and see what looks like a wall painted hazard stripe black and yellow with four large lights mounted vertically on the front moving towards you at an alarming rate.

If this is some sort of underground train tunnel, it's the biggest loading gauge you've ever seen.

Even running at a pretty stiff pace, it's still traveling faster than you are and will catch up pretty quickly. Coming up soon EAST is the little niche where the hatch you came out of was, but glancing backwards it looks like you might be able to jump on to the latch on the front, although you have no idea where this thing is headed, or even if it's a train. There might be enough room to squeeze underneath it between the tunnel bed and the bottom edge of this thing, or you could run a bit faster and see if you can outrun it to where-ever it's going.

Shooting at it probably won't help.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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You keep running while humming city escape, but after a while you get bored of that song and your adrenalin is starting to kick in, so you start humming chariots of fire instead. You almost trip when your heel is bumped by the wall thing, making you leap backwards and get pinned against the wall thing by the force of wind resistance. You climb up the wall thing using the lights as hand-holds, eventually climbing up and onto it, realizing this must be some variety of maglev train. What its doing down here and why it doesn't notice a person on the tracks, you have no idea. You clamber down a hatch into a console cabin, dimly lit in a vaguely bluish color. These must be the controls for the train, but there is no engineer or driver aboard.

The floor is diamond-pattern steel plating and looks like it hasn't been tread on in a little while, at least not by shoes or feet that were dirty.

NORTH is the console of the train. There are several controls, but there are no markings or indications on them. EAST looks like a route map with several color-coded track layouts, and a light that's probably where you are on a green route, near the upper-left corner of the map. WEST looks like some kind of fuse box. SOUTH is a small cubby with a latch, overlooking a ladder that drops down several feet. There is no one around, and the train appears to be well sound-proofed.

More or less you've stopped caring about the anti-freeze taste in your mouth. You can probably worry about getting your stomach pumped later.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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Since there isn't any present danger, and you are kind of tired, you sit down and lie with your back against the map, facing towards the fuse box. Before you can get any more comfortable, you spit on the floor just to make sure that any sort of health hazard might be avoided due to materials that were in your mouth, even partially.

It doesn't take long before the magnetic hum of the train lulls you to sleep.

Somehow that reminds you of something to do with being told by a man in a crisp suit to do some kind of cleaning, and the man introduced you to someone...

[Later]

Checking your HUD watch, you've been asleep for about seven hours. Dreamless but deep and refreshing, your sleep was a satisfying one.

Obvious exits have not changed.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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Inspect route map SOUTH, and memorize it then fiddle randomly with controls on console NORTH

"That which you do not know, is not a moral charge against you; but that which you refuse to know, is an account of infamy growing in your soul. Make every allowance for errors of knowledge; do not forgive or accept any breach of morality."

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Location conflict. Parsing from order of statement.

You inspect the map EAST.

You don't recognize any of these routes, they could be the London Underground for all you know. But judging from how far the light that might represent you, has moved along the green route, you've probably traveled a few hundred kilometers, and the entire map is probably scaled to about the size of Western Europe. You memorize it, assuming that the upper edge of the map is the geographic north.

You walk to the controls NORTH to look at them. Most prominently are a large flap-like Lever about three-quarters tilted forwards, as well as a large red Switch and a yellow Toggle.

You flick the toggle because yellow is your favorite color, and you see that the headlights have gone out in front of the train, through the windshield. You turn them back on. You push the lever forwards and feel the train dramatically accelerate, pushing you backwards in the cabin. Regaining your footing, you approach the console again and press the red Switch. The train stops immediately, thrusting you fully against the windshield.

"Do you mind?" says a puzzled but friendly voice from above.

Obvious exits have not changed.

You now think the yellow toggle is the outside lights, lever is the throttle and the switch is the deadman's stop.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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Speak out, apparently someone, or something is in the train with you.

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"We don't call them loot boxes", they're 'surprise mechanics'" - EA

 

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"Is someone there?" You ask, slightly inclined to be surprised.

"I'm the train, and you made an unnecessary emergency stop. Now I might be late. Disengage the brake, if you don't mind." says the voice.

You timidly but obediently repress the switch, causing a minor lurch before the train automatically starts moving again, comfortably accelerating back up to speed.

"I have a schedule to keep, you know. Or else I might get the scrap." the train continues.

"What is this place?" you inquire.

"Route G-2, southbound from Apex Main Complex to South Bluehill Storage. Load 1,270,000 kilograms, varied consist. Contents of load classified level 3 security clearance. Scheduled 10:15 departure, predicted arrival 21:55 at South Bluehill Industrial Terminus. You are in the main drivers cabin. Automatic pilot currently engaged." it says rather systematically.

"What was that green lamp back there?"

"Route block signal. It was green because I have the right of way in this block of track and there are no obstructions."

"You almost hit me."

"You didn't step on the track so I didn't know you were there."

"What was the pipe back there that I came out of, filled with green stuff?" you ask, gesturing with your thumb in the opposite direction of where the train's going.

"I don't know much about the Apex Complex, but I do know they usually require a lot of coolant for whatever they do. They receive shipments of stuff like that almost every buffin' week. Oxidizers, Engine fluids, Lubricants- megaliters of it. I think they do some variety of engine testing, but I'm not sure. I also think their shipments come automatically, because they've still been ordering stuff even after they shut it down."

"Who shut down the Complex?"

"The Administrator. Something about bugs. The Transit Authority doesn't get much information on the Science teams."

"Could they have been Xen wildlife?" you posit, slightly worried.

"What's a Xen?" queried the train.

"I want to go back to my original questions."

"Well alright, I've got no one else to talk to."

"What's Bluehill Storage?"

"A warehouse. A very very very big warehouse."

"How far did we travel when I was asleep?"

"Not very far, actually. I stopped and waited for a few hours because of a block ahead of me being redirected, so the track was occupied. Anything else you want to ask?"

"Nothing I can think of."

"Well alright then.

 

NORTH is the train console, EAST is the map, WEST is the fusebox, SOUTH is the cubby and ladder.

You can talk to the Train whenever you're aboard.

This is a nice metric server. No imperial dimensions, please.

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