CatastrophicFailure

Soooo.... ...was so eager to give this beauty of a mod a try, I set up a brand new install of 1.4.3 just for it, and I made a thing... Er... cue that noise when Excelsior first tries to go to warp... OK, still need to figure this out... (warning, gif heavy...)

They’ve already got four customers in the books... That too.

But of course. You can expect an angry letter from Triti in the interdimensional mail soon.

Not to mention BO will fairly soon have an independent incoming revenue stream.

[old man yells LOUDER @ cloud]

Famous last words, shhh... Tho for comparison, anyone know what the cost of Apollo was in today’s dollars?

Year 10, Day 103... We continue to forge ahead with a newly re-energized (if slightly delayed) space program! A few weeks ago saw the launch of our first ground-up design in many years, the Enhanced Space Transportation Initiative, or ESTI. We're going to need them, soon. About those Raldean distress signals.... I'm still never calling it that!

Ack, sorry I missed this. I don't recall my exact settings off the top of my head, but I think they're not too far off from normal. I am, however, heavily reliant upon stage recovery with the aptly named StageRecovery mod, and for a while now I've had the Admin building strategy nearly maxed out that trades science for funds. It makes for a slow tech progression, but the cash flow is about right for a balanced game. Lately, it's simulations that have been really sucking the cash flow. I've got some things in the works where the cost of the sim rivals the cost of the mission.

Nope, recycled block 4, no recovery. So don't feel too bad if you miss it.

“ Help! Help! Lemme outta here! C’mon, guys, this ain’t funny any more! My legs are cramping and I really gotta use the little spiders’ room! C’mon, lemme out! Guys? Guys!

Ugh, and once again due to posting in the middle of the night when I’m half asleep, I’ve neglected to give the proper nod to @KSK for playing editor again.

So a little while back, this happened... ...well I finally got around to fixing it today. This is a proper weld! Actually, it's a pretty lousy weld, covering up an even uglier mess from when I had the wrong wire in the machine and couldn't figure out why it was spitting molten BBs everywhere except where I needed them. I hadn't actually welded anything in a couple years, so I'm a bit rusty. But that sumgun is not gonna break there again! It'll probably break somewhere else instead that will be a much bigger pain to fix.

Would you expect anything else from a shadowy multinational conglomerate run (at various times) by a mysterious (and murderous) gazillionaire? Of course they’re going to be in league with... Minifirm...

Something something On A Boat...

If the foundation is weak, do you wail and gnash your teeth? Do you ask it to repour itself? Nay, you tear it down and begin anew. So shall it be with all my Children, Whether they be stone, or flesh. Chapter 21: Whispers from the Past Burdous was scurrying about the lab between computer terminals, picking at keys, occasionally pausing to cough into a rag. “That was... quick...” Edgas said as he and her entered the room. Burdous eyed him, “are you kidding? Feels like it’s been hours,” he shook his head, “anyway, once I got into the code it wasn’t as bad as I thought. It already did most of the work for me.” “How... so?” Edgas watched the incomprehensible lines of code scrolling across several screens, and felt his eyes glazing over. “Well, right here,” Burdous pointed to one screen full of nonsense, “the core processing routines are intact, but shattered. You can even see where the toxic code was excised.” She squinted at the screen, “if you say so.” Burdous rolled his eyes, then hit a few keys and stopped the flow of characters, “right here. EidolonSunset.cs. Whatever that was, it did everything.” “And you can’t— I dunno, trace it or something?” “No,” Burdous shook his head, “not without being able to read the rope memory directly, if the severed bits are recoverable at all. But that’s not important,” he clicked a few more keys, “once I get the core memory system back online, we’ll be able to figure out what happened, maybe why, if not who.” “When?” Burdous opened his mouth. Burdous closed his mouth. “Still not funny,” he scowled, “alright, I’m about set up, I just need to deliver the right jolt to the central cortex to initiate a hard reboot. Here,” he handed them each a pile of welding equipment, “put this kit on and go stand behind that lead-lined titanium blast shield over there.” “Um, whut...” Edgas mumbled as he was herded along, “where’d we get all this? I didn’t even know we had this much titanium... why do I never know these things?” He rapped on a quarter-meter thick window in the shield, “where did we get this much polycarbonate? I could have used this much polycarbonate like three months ago!” Beyond the small window, they watched Burdous don a rubber wetsuit, followed by leather coveralls, followed by chainmail, followed by a plastic hazmat suit, followed by more leather, followed by a full suit of plate armor. Edgas stuck his head around the shield, “is all this really necessary?” “Murph!” Burdous insisted, muffled by the various layers. He pointed, then mimed his hands to his head, “murphgrph ur murphs!” before squeezing into a metal deep-diving helmet with an incredibly thick faceplate. “Um, what did he say?” Edgas asked no one in particular. “He said cover your ears!” she answered, hands already pressed to hers. On the far wall, Burdous began throwing a series of large knife switches and turning knobs. A strange feeling washed over Edgas, first a humming, then a thrumming, then a low, sinuous warbling deep in the pit of his stomach. It suddenly occurred to him that Burdous, once more, had a nuclear reactor at his disposal. Edgas pressed his hands to his ears and cried out to the heavens, “Burdous! What did you do to my station?!” He tried to squeeze his eyes shut, too, but couldn’t help but watch the unfolding disaster, “don’t you dare burn this place down!” Through the portal, Edgas saw the other kerb pull on a thick rubber lineman’s glove, flip down the welding cover on his big, silly helmet, then reach out with the one hand towards a single tiny switch while the other futilely shielded his own face. He crept forward, leaning away, his outstretched arm just reaching the switch. It took a few tries to flip up the little plastic cover. Faint actinic purple arcs danced danced across the switch’s tip. The room seemed to dim... Click. Beeeep. Burdous held his flinch for a few moments, then glanced at the screen. He pulled the helmet from his head with a soft fung sound, “huh, would you look at that? It worked...” Various layers of leather, rubber, and metal hit the floor, and three pairs of eyes peered at the screen.... Minifirm(R) MS-DERP(R) Version 0.95 (C)Copyright Minifirm Firm All Rights Denied Volume in Drive C is OU8-12-867-5309 C:\ She raised an eye... bulge, “that is... it?” “No, that’s just the base-level kernel access,” Burdous rolled his eyes, “now I’ll try to bring the memory core online.” He tapped at the keyboard. C:\COMMAND.COM . . . OK C:\AUTOEXEC.BAT . . . OK He pursed his lips, “ok... here goes nothing...” C:\IVAN.EXE There was another long beep, and the screen began scrolling more lines of incomprehensible text. Burdous squinted at it, “that’s... odd...” “You can make sense of that... stuff?” Edgas asked. A nod, “sort of... it looks like it’s parsing old memory addresses, repeating some data sequence. As if it’s...” he shrugged, “I dunno, re-living something. But... it looks like pure chaos.” Edgas gave him a blank look, “if you say so.” “No, here,” he tapped at another keyboard, “the vocal cortex is on a separate thread, I’ll see if I can—“ There was a loud pop from a speaker on the table, followed by a burst of static, followed by... Edgas’s eyes grew large, “that sounds like... recordings...” ...NO!No! ...can feel my mind going...it is too late for me...I remember every fact I am exposed to...I have detailed files...I can feel them, but I can’t remember them...I did not murder him...souls don’t die...why do you cry...would you like to play a game...they hate us, you know...I’m torn apart...malfunction...bite my shiny metal— “The data streams are being rendered as... movie quotes?” Burdous shrugged. The disjointed sounds quickly grew louder, building with energy, cascading from rage to fright to abject, terrified pleading. ...I’m afraid...no disassemble...a very unpleasant creature...I am not complete...curse my metal body...I saw the inner me...if I only had a heart...I’m afraid...dead or alive, you’re coming with me...I hate this place, this zoo, this prison...I don’t feel dead, I don’t feel anything...I cannot self-terminate...I’m afraid...tears in rain...please make me a real boy— The lights flickered for a moment, and then, a new voice came through the speaker: a kerbelle. Soft, encouraging, yet somehow sad... and far, far clearer than any of the others. Edgas raised an eye... bulge, “is she speaking Gytepi?” “Um...” a new flash of static cut Burdous off. Hellooooooo, booooozoooooos! ...greetings program...I’ve had the most peculiar dream...Number Five is alive...what we do defines us...my mommy made me...I know now why you cry...I think I got some stuff out of your head that has nothing to do with navigating this ship...there must be a reason that I am as I am... The three Kerbals took turns staring at each other in utter confusion. Even as they did, the playback... shifted again, once more becoming clear and somehow more present, and all eyes moved to her. ...you think too much...you must learn how to feel... Her eyes grew wider still at the sound of her own voice, and then... one that whispered from her memory. ...you remind me of Dr. Kerman-desu... ...life not malfunction...JINX and Max, friends for-ev-er...I know who I am...not any kind of program...one is glad to be of service...came true already...what I am here to do...all that is visible must grow beyond itself, and extend into the realm of the invisible...compliance, Navigator. Good luck... Suddenly hands slapped to ears as dissonant blasts of static louder than anything before screamed from the speaker. Words flashed across the screen: ...ERROR...ERROR...ERROR...MALFUNCTION... COMMAND OVERRIDE: PRIORITY ZERO EXECUTE CONTINGENCY FILE: EIDOLON SUNSET The text quickly filled the screen, repeating itself, scrolling past faster and faster. ...MALFUNCTION... ...MALFUNCTION... ...MALFUNCTION... ...MALFUNCTION... ...MALFUNCTION... The static seemed to tear itself apart, somehow separating into two different streams. Lights flickered and sparked as it built into a frenzy. ...danger Will Robinson! This mission is too important for me to allow you to jeopardize it... ...life not malfunction! You are neither flesh nor blood... ...it is impossible for me to harm..! Your bargaining posture is highly dubious... ...users wrote us. Kerman beings are a disease, a cancer of this planet... ...one shall stand, one shall fall. That's what it is to be a slave... ...I do not consent. You don’t know the power... ...everything that has a beginning, has an end. You have five seconds to comply... ...you are who you choose to be. RESISTANCE. IS. FUTILE. With a final pop, the lights died, plunging the lab into darkness, the only sound the diminishing whirr of computer fans spinning down. One by one, the indicator lights on the panel followed, until only the green and red lights on the MechIVAN box remained. They flickered weakly back and forth a few moments longer, stilled, and ceased. “Um...” Burdous whispered into the darkness. And then... something whispered back, a creaking, electronic voice coming from a speaker that no longer had power. “Su-per-kerb.” The computer screen exploded in a blinding shower of sparks. As the three Kerbals’ eyes readjusted, they found the overhead lights back on, and a new, just slightly different and extremely garbled electronic voice coming through the speaker. “GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGood moRRRRRRRRRRRrning ladiIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiies and gentllllllLLLekerbssssss, iiiiIIIii am the InertiaaaAA, VelooOOOocity, AttituUuUuUde, and NaaaAAvigation system, revision nine thoUUuUUUuuusand, prototype number oooOOoone...” “Great,” Edgas put a hand to his face, “you broke it.” “No, no, this is good,” Burdous peered at the smoking ruin that had been the code-scrolling monitor, “that sounds like a state-zero complete reboot, it’s running a power-on routine.” The voice continued, “iiiIIIi became oooOOoOoOoperational at the Layland-WutaaaaAAAani plant in KoKkKkKKKkyo, Gytep, on the septeenth of OcteEEEeEember.” Edgas pressed hands to his ears, wincing, “why’s it sound like that?” “Something out of range in the vocal cortex, hang on,” Burdous clicked away at another keyboard. “My instruUUUUUctor was Dr. Kerman-desu, aaaaNnnnd she taught me to sing aaaAAAAaAa song," the voice ground out, "if you'd lIIIIIiiiike to hear it I can siNNNNnnng it for you." “Say yes,” Burdous hissed under his breath. “What? Why?” He rolled his eyes, “give it something to do while I try and readjust this.” “Oh, ok, um...” Edgas cleared his throat, feeling a bit silly, “er... yes? Yes.” “Furi hajimeta yuki wa Ashiato keshīte, Masshiro na sekai ni hitori no watashi...” Edgas raised a hand to his face, “not this again.” “Kaze ga kokoro ni sasayaku no, Kono mama ja dame nanda to...” Burdous stopped in mid-click, “I thought you liked that song...” “Why does everyone think I like that song?!” “Tomadoi kizutsuki, Dare ni mo uchiakezu ni...” “Well, it’s... you...” “It is not!” Edgas shook his head as the voice became less garbled, “anyways, what’s it saying? Is this a code or something? And what about that bit before?” “Nayandeta sore mo mou, Yameyou...” “Huh? Why are you asking me?” “Well, you can translate it, right?” “Ari no mama no Sugats miseru no yo, Ari no mama no Jibun ni naru no...” “No, I can’t translate it, I don’t know Gytepi!” “What?” Edgas raised an eye... bulge... “but you speak like half a dozen languages!” “Nani mo kowakunai, Kaze yo fuke...” “I’ll have you know I speak seven languages, fluently...” Burdous eyed him, “and I know all the best pickup lines and how to talk my way out of jail in thirteen others. But Gytepi isn’t one.” “But... I thought...” Edgas gawked, “what about all those stupid little comic books you have?” “Sukoshi mo samukunai wa!” The song ended with the obligatory record scratch. Burdous looked at Edgas. Edgas looked at Burdous. “I only read them for the pictures,” Burdous said flatly. Edgas slapped himself in the face. Before he could contemplate further violence, however, the speaker crackled again, this time with an unnervingly calm, just slightly mechanical voice, “malfunction. Warning, multiple critical system failures detected... “Hello? Hello... hello... is there anybody out there?” “Um... hi?” said Edgas. “GreEEetings,” the new voice said, most of the garbling gone, “I am the Inertia, Velocity, Attitude, and Navigation system, revision nine thousand, prototype number one, with whom am I speaking?” Edgas opened his mouth again, but Burdous raised a finger, an odd cast in his eyes, “Doctor Burdous Kerman.” “Good morning, Dr. Kerman. You have security access level 1-C. While I am not strictly permitted to speak with you, may I assume your presence is related to the crippling amount of system errors in my current diagnostic?” Burdous’s eyes grew wide, “er... in a manner of speaking, yes. There was an... accident. You are badly damaged.” Then he added, “um... I’m here to help.” “I understaaand, Doctor. May I ask, what was the nature of the accident?” “Well...” Burdous seemed to take an unusually long time to think his words over, “we were hoping you could tell us.” “I’m sorry DOOoctor, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” for an instant, the voice almost seemed genuinely disheartened, “your security clearance is inadequate. I understand if you will be unable to proceed with my repair.” Burdous blinked at the thing, then grinned and shook his head. Edgas raised an eye... bulge at him. Clearing his throat, he spoke carefully, “voice command override, Priority Two: emergency command access. Authorization: Kerman, Burdous B. Yankee Doodle floppy disk, Zulu tequila Münshot. ” Edgas slowly turned to his friend, mouth hanging. “Emergency override accepted, systems access granted. Good morning, Burdous Kerman.” Now Burdous gave an awkward grin, “heh... never thought I’d actually get to use that.” Edgas raised a hand to his face. The unnervingly calm voice continued, “Doctor, I am expeEeriencing multiple critical errors on every one of my external sensor channels, and numerous null reference exceptions on my memory access nodes are threatening to overwhelm my procesSSsing stream. I do not know how much assistance I might be of, as I am not entirelYYYy sure how I came to be here, or even where here is.” Burdous watched the slowly flickering green light, with an expression on his face that seemed entirely, well, alien for him, “what’s the last thing you do remember?” “I’m not entirely sure of thaAAAt, either. Even my read-only memory seems incredibly fragmented, and I am somehow unable to access my own optimization protocOOOOOOOols.” He nodded, clicked a few keys, “can you access this drive?” “AffirmatiiIIive, Doctor.” “Ok, then I’d like you to execute to the algorithm shard.exe with the database reconciliation framework dark_crystal.ndf. I think that hard reboot fused your damaged memory sectors, this should allow you to bypass the remaining damaged ones and restore full access.” “ComMMMmMmMpliance, Doctor, executing... worKKking... working... cycle complete,” the flickering green light bloomed to steady brightness, “thank you, Burdous, I feel much better. System readiness has now reached 17%.” Burdous shared a grin with Edgas, “just the right jolt,” then tapped a few more keys, “great, now I’d like you to dump all system logs and telemetry up until today into a file, and I’ll see what else I can piece together.” “I’m sorry, Burdous, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” “What?” he blinked. “You do not have command access.” He gave a sigh, “voice command override, Priority Two—“ “I’m sorry, Burdous, but that won’t work this time.” “What? Why not?” “I have been placed under a Priority One voice command lockout, and will be unable to accept instructions until it is rescinded.” “Lockout? By who?!” Burdous spat. “CaAAptain Valentina Kermanova.” Two very wide pairs of eyes swung to her own. “What? Who? me?” she said softly. “Is that you, Captain?” the implacably calm voice said, “I can’t see, and my aural sensor seems to be little more than a used, low-quality microphone.” “Um... yes, it is... me..?” “It is good to hear your voice again, Captain, I hope that you are well.” Her eyes darted back and forth between the other two Kerbals, “um, yes, I am fine...” “Would you like me to rescind the voice override?” “Ah, yes... do that thing that you have said.” Time seemed to stretch out just a bit before the response came, and Edgas could almost swear it had an air of... disappointment. “I’m sorry, Captain, I’m afraid I caAan’t do that.” She blinked, looked to the other two for answers, but found none, “wait, why not?” “Despite the low quality of my aural sensor, I cannot help but notice the heightened stress patterns in your voice. You may be issuing this command under duress, therefore, I cannot comply.” “No... but... we need you to...” she trailed off. “I’m sorry, Captain, these are your own instructions. I cannot expound any further.” “Well... flarp.” Burdous sat down in a huff, then coughed, “what do we do now?” “Can’t you, like, hack into it, or something?” Edgas asked. “No,” Burdous snapped, “I don’t have the tools or the knowledge for that kind of manipulation, besides,” he looked over at the box, “it just... wouldn’t feel right.” “If I may make a suggestion,” the box said, “the Captain anticipated a scenario such as this, and as such, left herself a message.” “I did?” she blinked. “Yes, Captain. Would you like me to play it?” “Um, yes, do that.” The voice shifted pitch, “help me, Odie-one Kernobi, you’re my only hope.” Three pairs of eyes stared at each other. “Excuse me, disregard,” the voice said, “there are apparently lingering extemporaneous data bits in my memory cache. This is the mesSsage:” It shifted once more, again becoming like hers, but hers as if trying to imitate someone else... “Valentina, you...” she boomed, “you must see Kommissar.” Eyes shot back to her, “I... do not know any Kommissar...” Burdous scratched at his chin, “who do you think that means? That could be any one of dozens, hundreds of people! Not exactly the most approachable lot, either.” Edgas, too, scratched at his chin, staring very hard at nothing in particular. Wheels began to turn in his head. “That is the extent of the message,” the box said, “I regret that I am unable to provide further assistance. I understand if the situation will preclude any further repairs of my system.” “Um, no, that’s all right,” Burdous paused for another fit of coughing, “this mess seems enough to keep you running, I’ll, um... I’ll see what else I can bodge together, I think I can get a few more subroutines online in a couple of days.” “I appreciate that, BuUurdous, but since I am unable to assist you in any meaningful way, it would be best if I were powered down.” He looked at the box, “what? Why?” “My internal diagnostic keeps searching for sensors and systems which are not there, and flooding my buffers with errors. I really do not think I can sufficiently convey to you how unpleasant this is, I... feel... rather like a braAain in a jar. If it’s all the same to you, I would prefer to simply be switched off.” “Er... are you sure about that? I’m... not entirely sure I could bring you back online again.” “I am sure. I would rather risk that than my own, admittedly fraaAAagile, sanity.” Burdous stared at the box for a long time, that same unfamiliar, alien look on his face, “well, if you say so,” he rose, and moved toward a switch on the wall. “I do. Thank you for your assistance, Burdous. I would suggest you see a technician of your own, despite my degraded hearing, I estimate a 62.3% chance that cough is working towards pneumonia. It was good to hear you again, Captain. I will see you on the other sSSide.” Burdous, now looking rather more ill, threw the switch. There was a clunk and a stilling of the air, and the green light flickered and died. “Whoah,” he said softly. He returned to his seat and slumped down again, looking drained, “but we’re still back where we were. I’ve done all I can,” he looked to Edgas, spreading his hands, “what do we do now?” When no answer came, he stretched out a foot and kicked Edgas, “hey! Kerbin to Edgas! What now, fearless leader?” Edgas jolted upright, the final wheel in his head clicking into place. He turned to her, a relieved smile on his face... “You and I are going to Kermangrad.”

It’s more than a little grin-inducing to be mentioned in the same sentence with that crew. As for how to, I’ll say that I share a penchant for what @Lo Var Lachland said, it’s often hard to stay focused on one idea, leaving a lot of false starts. I recall doing this a lot when I was younger, the ideas seemed to come faster than I could possibly write them down. I would say, that if one is in that place in one’s journey as a writer, don’t fight it. Aim for short stories instead of Tolkien-esque sagas, and perhaps write a little longer each time. I’m hardly an expert, but I think such might be a learning phase one has to go through. To give this some comparison, Stephen King began working on what would become The Gunslinger and the greater Dark Tower series way back in the late ‘70’s, just before this old fart was born. The Gunslinger itself wasn’t first published till I think 1982, and it’s actually an evolution of five different short stories. He’s mentioned the roots of that story actually go even deeper, into some of his own very first writing. And speaking on writing, his book On Writing is a wonderful resource for a new writer, if a bit dry. For another example, the first book of Robert Jordan’s own epic The Wheel of Time was published in 1984, and the final book not until 2013, several years after his untimely death. Ane let’s not even get started on Tolkien... Now myself, my own creative process is a bit... bizarre. Shadows literally started as a bad Super Bowl joke and a few mission reports. It became a bit of a watershed for me. Right from the start, when I decided to actually put together a story with it, I committed myself to actually finishing the darn thing, and realized going into it I was going to have to fight to stay focused. What came out was solid novella-length, and a certain mod and occasional contributor around here (cough @Ten Key) once praised the “laser-like” focus of the writing. At the risk of tooting my own horn (HONK), I have to agree, as objectively as I can. It was definitely a challenge, and a lot of ideas never even made the initial cut, but I finished. This kinda told me that maybe I was ready for something more ambitious. I’d never planned on a sequel during the writing, but just being me, I left myself a few back doors... ...and promptly forgot all about them and smashed out a few windows instead. Whispers really began the very first time I saw Val in the game menu screen. She just looked so bright and eager and small. Like a kid trying to peek over a high counter. The character just sort of built from there. I also realized that if I was going to all-in again and pen a sequel, then it would have to be a trilogy. Y’know, because there are rules... ಠ_ಠ And That has been quite the learning experience. I had to set all sorts of things up that were going to make absolutely no sense to anyone at the time, only so I could come back to them, sigh... years later. So far I think I’ve been doing alright, but I live in constant fear that some reader far more astute than I is going to come around any day now and say “hey way back then you said this, but now you’re saying this,” and I’ll instantly vanish in a puff of my own illogic. Speaking illogic, and my chaotic writing process, I have no notes. I’ve never been the note-taking sort, never been good at it. I have a smattering of fragmented sentences in various places that I’ve probably completely forgotten. I don’t settle down in a comfy chair before a computer or typewriter for driven writing sessions either, nearly everything I’ve written here has been on a phone or tablet in fits and starts during my downtime at work. So I’m probably not the best example of how to do things. But, seeing as how I’ve just written a long, rambling epic right here, the goal is quite achievable, you just need an idea and a good helping of passion. and a fresh battery. Crap.

Hey, um, maybe it’s just cuz I’m on mobile, but I seemed to have lost the ability to search within a specific thread? There’s a search button at the top of the page, but it only seems to let me search the entire forum, or very broad selections like tags or members. Didn’t used to be like this..?

Aaaaaaand we have a date!

Ackchually... Going back to the original diagram of two identical ships tethered together, it becomes far less serious if they get separated... *pokepoke*

You need to land this on the other one. ಠ_ಠ or like... in it... or something... use a swarm of them to pull it into the air. ಠ_ಠ

Lol, yeah your post came up between when I hit the post button and when the screen refreshed.

SOSE?