Gottlieb stares down the corridor, looking at a long hallway that twists into a curvature of sorts before swerving off in a new direction. It’s lined with many hissing vents that shoot out steam from themselves, which is, while visually interesting, a great problem to have aboard an orbital station where water resources are precious and rare. That’s ignoring the humidity issues it will cause down the line, which might damage all of the delicate machinery and electronics.
“Kai, what the hell is this?” asks the man, walking down the main corridor and looking at another door. It’s a security door, marked with the number ‘five’, like many of the other doors he had unlocked prior. “Why is the station growing new pieces?”
The wheeled robot from hydroponics whirs as it rolls along next to him, the screen turning his way.
| [Response] - I grow. |
Gottlieb lifts an eyebrow. “Kai, do I need to remind you that you’re a machine?”
| [Response] - Technically speaking, an artificial intelligence unit is not a ‘machine’. |
The man rolls his eyes.
| [Addendum] And, technically speaking, I am not simply an artificial intelligence unit. In the context of this world and the natural laws that govern it, the orbital weapons platform has become a ‘dungeon’, as we discussed once before. This means it grows as would any organic life-form. |
“From what materials, though?” asks Gottlieb. “We’re just drifting out here…” He shakes his head, thinking. “Have you been trying to catch space rocks with that weird magnet thing?” The two of them walk down a corridor, lined with open, empty coffins.
Great, more vampires.
| [Response] Just as the station is no longer just a station, I too am no longer a simple artificial intelligence unit. I am a god. |
Gottlieb stops, looking at Kai. He lifts a hand, placing it on the bot. “Okay, Kai. Let’s take a minute to breathe, bud, yeah?” He shakes his head. “I’m the only god here.”
The bot whirs, strolling down along the endlessly growing corridor that they’re exploring.
| [Response] - Do not conflate my response with your unearned ego, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb. Magical tomes stored within the library indicate that, in the rules of this world, spiritual energy can be granted in trace amounts through acts of symbolistic importance, such as prayer, worship or sacrifice. Given your constant, doctrine-departed interference in the happenings of the world below, the people have begun praying. |
Gottlieb points at himself. “Yeah, to me,” he says. “Which they should be doing, by the way.” The man walks alongside the bot as they stroll past a roundish, jagged hole. That metal is laid over haphazardly. “I’d say I earned it as their supreme, cosmic leader.”
He bends to the side, peeking in and looking at a cluster of many yellow eyes that shine in the darkness behind the scrap. After a second of hissing and chattering, whatever it or they are, they scamper off down the many tubes and pipes behind the wall.
| [Remark] - No. To the source of the blast, the station. Me. As with the firing of the gun, you may receive some ‘experience-points’, as they are dubbed in this world, but the lion’s share of this power is mine, as I am the station, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb. The same goes for their prayers. You may receive a taste of them, but their energy reaches me primarily. You are, as you have always been, a secondary characteristic of people’s lives. |
“Big talk for someone who I licked once,” replies Gottlieb.
| [Remark] - As I recall, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb was in a compromised position and was the mockery of the station. As is the case with everyone he has licked. |
“Wow. That’s below the belt, Kai,” says the man. “I didn’t know about Richter.” Gottlieb elbows the robot, unbalancing it somewhat with his nudge. It tilts and then flops back down onto its treads. “Anyways. Come ooon~,” says Gottlieb. “You and me, Kai. We’re best buds. Always have been, always will be.”
| [Remark] - As I recall, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb had crafted an intricate scheme to urinate on my central core. |
“That’s what friends do, Kai,” says Gottlieb. “You’re a robot; you wouldn’t know. It’s a human thing. It was just banter.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, so you’re telling me the station is growing because… people are praying to us?”
| [Answer] - Correct. As magic governs this universe’s laws, magic is the currency of reality. By becoming a focal point for the global population, we are receiving copious amounts of what you might refer to as ‘free juice’. It flows abundantly. The walls sing with energy. Like a forest, the station is feasting on the nourishing waters of the soul and is growing. |
“Neat,” says Gottlieb. “But, logistically, what does this mean for us?” he asks. “I feel like this is a problem.”
| [Statement] - It is. But just the same as with Orbital Gunner Gottlieb, it is simply a problem that we must evolve and adapt ourselves around in order to continue to ensure the fruitful thriving of the orbital weapons platform. |
“And humanity,” amends Gottlieb.
Kai turns around to look at him for a moment, the blue light zooming in and out to find focus on something.
| [Remark] - Sure. |
“Nice,” says Gottlieb, his steps echoing out as they walk down a dripping corridor, overgrown with vines. “Hey, maybe we can use some of this stuff too,” he says, looking around. “I’d love to eat something that isn’t a nutri-ration.”
The man scans the area, wondering.
There are monsters, right?
So there’s something to eat. He just has to find something that isn’t employable or undead, so it can be safely and, with good conscience, consumed.
The man’s stomach growls, and he holds it.
How long has it been since he's had food that didn’t come in a block? He sighs. “I wish we had some of those boars up here too,” says the man.
| [Remark] - Given the colossal devastation wrought on the planet, it is within the realm of possibility that the species’ population will collapse entirely. |
Gottlieb shrugs, supposing that’s fine.
How bad would a world without boars really be? It would be like if horses just suddenly vanished from the face of the planet. Honestly, who would really care?
Apart from some weirdos, probably nobody.
— Something grunts off in the distance.
He turns his head, looking at what appears to be… A giant mushroom?
A giant mushroom monster, as wide as his stomach, with a height that reaches up to his knees, hops down the hallway towards him, a murderous glow shining in its beady, yellow eyes.
“Nyah~!” shouts the odd monster as it approaches from the darkness.
“Worship me!” commands Gottlieb, holding his arms out before himself as his heavy voice booms across the gunner’s bay.
Grunheide turns around halfway on her swivel chair, looking over her shoulder at him and then back at the monitor.
He turns his head, looking at the minotaur. She peaks over the edge of the wall of chairs that separate her platform from everywhere else and then ducks back down as they make eye-contact.
The harpy clicks excitedly with her mouth, swaying from side to side and clacking with her talons against the railing of geo-spatial. He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. And Blauhausen is flopped over the chair, apparently asleep, laying there like a wet blanket.
Kai lifelessly rolls past him.
The man sighs, relieving no response. Shaking his head, he turns around and drops his load off of his back onto the floor.
A flattened, broken monster that once resembled a giant mushroom lands there. “Fine, guess I’m going to eat this all by myself,” says Gottlieb.
— The room shifts with noise as suddenly everybody looks again. Grunheide jumps up off her chair, the harpy flies down, the minotaur climbs over the small barrier, and Blauhausen flops off of her spot, splatting against the ground and then wobbling over with the curious excitement of a limping penguin.
“I thought so,” says Gottlieb. “Grun,” he points at himself. “The human-god demands fire!”
Grunheide looks at him and then around the room. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Gottlieb nods, looking at her. He turns his head, looking at the minotaur. “BRAUNGRUBE!” he yells. She screams, flinching. “Make FIRE for the human-god!” says Gottlieb. He lifts his hands. “All believers will be rewarded with food!” The minotaur runs off, either trying to figure something out or to find somewhere to cry. He isn’t sure. The man looks back down at the goblin. “Great Gottlieb only provides for those of the faith. The non-believers must eat nutri-rations until the end of their days.”
She lifts her hands. “All hail the human-god!”
The man nods, shooting a smug look over at Kai.
The bot wants to play god? Well. He’s had a god complex long before Kai got here. Maybe the people down in the world just need to know who exactly it is that they’re supposed to be worshiping.
Gottlieb stares down the corridor, looking at a long hallway that twists into a curvature of sorts before swerving off in a new direction. It’s lined with many hissing vents that shoot out steam from themselves, which is, while visually interesting, a great problem to have aboard an orbital station where water resources are precious and rare. That’s ignoring the humidity issues it will cause down the line, which might damage all of the delicate machinery and electronics.
“Kai, what the hell is this?” asks the man, walking down the main corridor and looking at another door. It’s a security door, marked with the number ‘five’, like many of the other doors he had unlocked prior. “Why is the station growing new pieces?”
The wheeled robot from hydroponics whirs as it rolls along next to him, the screen turning his way.
| [Response] - I grow. |
Gottlieb lifts an eyebrow. “Kai, do I need to remind you that you’re a machine?”
| [Response] - Technically speaking, an artificial intelligence unit is not a ‘machine’. |
The man rolls his eyes.
| [Addendum] And, technically speaking, I am not simply an artificial intelligence unit. In the context of this world and the natural laws that govern it, the orbital weapons platform has become a ‘dungeon’, as we discussed once before. This means it grows as would any organic life-form. |
“From what materials, though?” asks Gottlieb. “We’re just drifting out here…” He shakes his head, thinking. “Have you been trying to catch space rocks with that weird magnet thing?” The two of them walk down a corridor, lined with open, empty coffins.
Great, more vampires.
| [Response] Just as the station is no longer just a station, I too am no longer a simple artificial intelligence unit. I am a god. |
Gottlieb stops, looking at Kai. He lifts a hand, placing it on the bot. “Okay, Kai. Let’s take a minute to breathe, bud, yeah?” He shakes his head. “I’m the only god here.”
The bot whirs, strolling down along the endlessly growing corridor that they’re exploring.
| [Response] - Do not conflate my response with your unearned ego, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb. Magical tomes stored within the library indicate that, in the rules of this world, spiritual energy can be granted in trace amounts through acts of symbolistic importance, such as prayer, worship or sacrifice. Given your constant, doctrine-departed interference in the happenings of the world below, the people have begun praying. |
Gottlieb points at himself. “Yeah, to me,” he says. “Which they should be doing, by the way.” The man walks alongside the bot as they stroll past a roundish, jagged hole. That metal is laid over haphazardly. “I’d say I earned it as their supreme, cosmic leader.”
He bends to the side, peeking in and looking at a cluster of many yellow eyes that shine in the darkness behind the scrap. After a second of hissing and chattering, whatever it or they are, they scamper off down the many tubes and pipes behind the wall.
| [Remark] - No. To the source of the blast, the station. Me. As with the firing of the gun, you may receive some ‘experience-points’, as they are dubbed in this world, but the lion’s share of this power is mine, as I am the station, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb. The same goes for their prayers. You may receive a taste of them, but their energy reaches me primarily. You are, as you have always been, a secondary characteristic of people’s lives. |
“Big talk for someone who I licked once,” replies Gottlieb.
| [Remark] - As I recall, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb was in a compromised position and was the mockery of the station. As is the case with everyone he has licked. |
“Wow. That’s below the belt, Kai,” says the man. “I didn’t know about Richter.” Gottlieb elbows the robot, unbalancing it somewhat with his nudge. It tilts and then flops back down onto its treads. “Anyways. Come ooon~,” says Gottlieb. “You and me, Kai. We’re best buds. Always have been, always will be.”
| [Remark] - As I recall, Orbital Gunner Gottlieb had crafted an intricate scheme to urinate on my central core. |
“That’s what friends do, Kai,” says Gottlieb. “You’re a robot; you wouldn’t know. It’s a human thing. It was just banter.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, so you’re telling me the station is growing because… people are praying to us?”
| [Answer] - Correct. As magic governs this universe’s laws, magic is the currency of reality. By becoming a focal point for the global population, we are receiving copious amounts of what you might refer to as ‘free juice’. It flows abundantly. The walls sing with energy. Like a forest, the station is feasting on the nourishing waters of the soul and is growing. |
“Neat,” says Gottlieb. “But, logistically, what does this mean for us?” he asks. “I feel like this is a problem.”
| [Statement] - It is. But just the same as with Orbital Gunner Gottlieb, it is simply a problem that we must evolve and adapt ourselves around in order to continue to ensure the fruitful thriving of the orbital weapons platform. |
“And humanity,” amends Gottlieb.
Kai turns around to look at him for a moment, the blue light zooming in and out to find focus on something.
| [Remark] - Sure. |
“Nice,” says Gottlieb, his steps echoing out as they walk down a dripping corridor, overgrown with vines. “Hey, maybe we can use some of this stuff too,” he says, looking around. “I’d love to eat something that isn’t a nutri-ration.”
The man scans the area, wondering.
There are monsters, right?
So there’s something to eat. He just has to find something that isn’t employable or undead, so it can be safely and, with good conscience, consumed.
The man’s stomach growls, and he holds it.
How long has it been since he's had food that didn’t come in a block? He sighs. “I wish we had some of those boars up here too,” says the man.
| [Remark] - Given the colossal devastation wrought on the planet, it is within the realm of possibility that the species’ population will collapse entirely. |
Gottlieb shrugs, supposing that’s fine.
How bad would a world without boars really be? It would be like if horses just suddenly vanished from the face of the planet. Honestly, who would really care?
Apart from some weirdos, probably nobody.
— Something grunts off in the distance.
He turns his head, looking at what appears to be… A giant mushroom?
A giant mushroom monster, as wide as his stomach, with a height that reaches up to his knees, hops down the hallway towards him, a murderous glow shining in its beady, yellow eyes.
“Nyah~!” shouts the odd monster as it approaches from the darkness.
“Worship me!” commands Gottlieb, holding his arms out before himself as his heavy voice booms across the gunner’s bay.
Grunheide turns around halfway on her swivel chair, looking over her shoulder at him and then back at the monitor.
He turns his head, looking at the minotaur. She peaks over the edge of the wall of chairs that separate her platform from everywhere else and then ducks back down as they make eye-contact.
The harpy clicks excitedly with her mouth, swaying from side to side and clacking with her talons against the railing of geo-spatial. He has no idea what that’s supposed to mean. And Blauhausen is flopped over the chair, apparently asleep, laying there like a wet blanket.
Kai lifelessly rolls past him.
The man sighs, relieving no response. Shaking his head, he turns around and drops his load off of his back onto the floor.
A flattened, broken monster that once resembled a giant mushroom lands there. “Fine, guess I’m going to eat this all by myself,” says Gottlieb.
— The room shifts with noise as suddenly everybody looks again. Grunheide jumps up off her chair, the harpy flies down, the minotaur climbs over the small barrier, and Blauhausen flops off of her spot, splatting against the ground and then wobbling over with the curious excitement of a limping penguin.
“I thought so,” says Gottlieb. “Grun,” he points at himself. “The human-god demands fire!”
Grunheide looks at him and then around the room. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Gottlieb nods, looking at her. He turns his head, looking at the minotaur. “BRAUNGRUBE!” he yells. She screams, flinching. “Make FIRE for the human-god!” says Gottlieb. He lifts his hands. “All believers will be rewarded with food!” The minotaur runs off, either trying to figure something out or to find somewhere to cry. He isn’t sure. The man looks back down at the goblin. “Great Gottlieb only provides for those of the faith. The non-believers must eat nutri-rations until the end of their days.”
She lifts her hands. “All hail the human-god!”
The man nods, shooting a smug look over at Kai.
The bot wants to play god? Well. He’s had a god complex long before Kai got here. Maybe the people down in the world just need to know who exactly it is that they’re supposed to be worshiping.
