1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Middle Management (Name Withheld)
8310704-1245
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310704-1245/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
Honestly, I'm starting to get worried. This "Hard Breathers" thing has been going on for over two months now. It hits you, you feel like you can't catch your breath, your whole body aches, and then...nothing. You think you're over it, but then a week later, boom, it hits you again.
The worst part? You get the stink-eye from everyone who hasn't had it yet. Like we asked for this or something. They call us "Hard Breathers" behind our backs, like we're some kind of walking disease. Look, I get it, nobody wants to get sick, but the fear-mongering isn't helping anyone.
The higher-ups say it's nothing to worry about, a minor adaptation to the new environment. Easy for them to say, they haven't been hacking up a lung for the past two months. Dr. Petrova's a good egg, been working overtime trying to figure it out, but so far, nothing.
Maybe I'm just overreacting, but this whole thing feels...off. We left Sirius for a new start, and now we're all coughing and wheezing on an alien planet. Not exactly the fresh beginning I signed up for.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
( Y / N ) ///CLOSING FILE: HAVE A NICE DAY///
1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Administrator Goodman
8310705-0930
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310705-0930/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
The colonization of J0720.4-3125 is progressing according to schedule. The initial infrastructure – habitation units, hydroponics labs, and power generation facilities – is in place, and resource extraction has begun. Morale remains high amongst the colonists, despite the minor setbacks.
However, the ongoing flu outbreak, dubbed "Hard Breathers" by some colonists, requires careful monitoring. While the initial infection seems mild, its continued recurrence amongst recovered individuals is a cause for concern. Dr. Petrova has been tasked with investigating the matter further, and I expect a comprehensive report soon.
Maintaining public order and a sense of security is crucial at this fragile stage. I've instructed the medical teams to prioritize the "Hard Breathers" and to implement more stringent sanitation protocols across all departments. Additionally, I've authorized increased recreational activities to combat any anxieties that may be arising from the situation.
We are pioneers, forging a new future for humanity amongst the stars. This illness will not deter us from our mission. J0720.4-3125 holds immense potential, and we will overcome this initial hurdle with resilience and scientific ingenuity.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Dr. Anya Petrova
8310705-1945
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310705-1945/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
The pioneering spirit is alive and well on J0720.4-3125. Today marked the completion of the first prefabricated habitation units, a testament to the tireless efforts of the construction crew. Witnessing these metal shells transform into functional living spaces, complete with rudimentary furniture and recycled water systems, fills me with a sense of accomplishment. We are building a new home, a new Eden, amidst the crimson sands and emerald flora of this alien world.
However, a shadow lurks beneath the surface of our optimism. Reports of headaches and unexplained fatigue continue to trickle in from various teams. While these symptoms seem minor, their persistence is concerning. Could it be a reaction to the planet's unfamiliar atmosphere or some unknown pathogen? My research into the native flora and fauna hasn't yielded any conclusive answers yet.
Strict quarantine protocols are in place for any returning survey teams, but the illness seems to have a mind of its own. It resurfaces amongst those who previously seemed recovered, earning them the rather morbid nickname of "Hard Breathers" by their healthier counterparts.
I've doubled my efforts in analyzing blood samples, searching for any anomalies. The well-being of the colonists is paramount, and this persistent illness demands a swift explanation, if not a cure.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Administrator Goodman
8310707-0545
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310707-0545/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
The situation with the "Hard Breathers" illness has taken a turn for the worse. The number of reported cases has skyrocketed, and the initial symptoms of fatigue and headaches have escalated to include fevers, hallucinations, and even temporary paralysis. Dr. Petrova and her team are working around the clock, but a definitive diagnosis remains elusive.
The colonists are growing increasingly restless. Rumors are swirling faster than a dust storm on Zephyr Isle. Some whisper of a curse upon the planet, while others point fingers at the food supplies or the recycled water systems. Maintaining order is becoming a constant struggle.
I've authorized the limited distribution of sedatives to those experiencing the most severe hallucinations. The Agora will be closed indefinitely to prevent mass panic. Essential personnel only will report to their designated work stations.
This crisis threatens to unravel everything we've accomplished so far. We came to J0720.4-3125 with hope and ambition, and now we find ourselves teetering on the brink of chaos. I have faith in Dr. Petrova's abilities, but time is not our friend. We need answers, and we need them fast.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Middle Management (Name Withheld)
8310707-1718
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310707-1718/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
It's pandemonium out there. People are dropping like flies, coughing up their lungs. Medical is overflowing, and they're running low on supplies. The whole place smells like disinfectant and fear.
Heard some whispers from the nurses – they still don't know what it is. One of them even mentioned something about a "forgotten plague" from way back. Doesn't exactly inspire confidence, does it?
Starting to see some folks getting real desperate. Resource stockpiles are dwindling faster than expected, and there are rumors of fights breaking out over basic supplies. This isn't how it was supposed to be. We came here for a new beginning, not to die hacking up blood on some alien rock.
Looking around at the scared faces, I can't help but feel a cold dread creep into my gut. What if Goodman's wrong? What if we're not prepared for what's coming? What if this whole thing is… bigger than they're letting on?
The Consortium… they control everything – the ships, the supplies, the damn air we breathe. Maybe this whole "colonization" thing was just another one of their sick experiments. Maybe we're the lab rats, and this… this is the result.
The Administration, they keep saying it's just a regular illness, something the body will adapt to. But their briefings feel… hollow. Like they're holding something back. Like they know more than they're letting on.
Maybe I'm just paranoid, sleep-deprived, and scared out of my mind. But something about this whole situation stinks. And it ain't just the disinfectant.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Dr. Anya Petrova
8310707-2313
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// /D:8310707-2313/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
Frustration gnaws at me like a ravenous beast. Days turn into nights as I pore over blood samples and genetic scans, searching for the elusive key that unlocks the mystery of this illness. The aggressive progression of symptoms, the bizarre hallucinations the infected report – it's unlike anything I've encountered before.
And yet… a sliver of dreadful recognition flickers at the edge of my memory. Years ago, during my xenobiology studies at Consortium Academy, there were hushed whispers – rumors of a secretive, elusive alien race known only as the Nomads. The lecture mentioned their unique ability to integrate with other species, a parasitic symbiosis some called possession. They spoke of a horrifying incident in House Rhineland, a devastating outbreak they named the Wilde Infection.
With a trembling hand, I revisit the blood work. There, nestled amongst the familiar human cells, lies a chilling anomaly – genetic markers consistent with the Nomads, the Slomon K'Hara. A horrifying realization slams into me with the force of a supernova. This isn't just an illness; it's a full-blown alien invasion. The colonists are not merely infected; they are being…possessed. And a cold dread settles over me as I contemplate the chilling truth – the Wilde Infection is here, and it has found a new host – the Gryphon.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs 4. Ship Logs
CCTV: Administrators Office
8310708-0530
5. Personal Logs
///SHIP LOGS SELECTED/// /CCTV:AO:8310708-0530/ \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
The sterile white walls of Sean Goodman's office are a stark contrast to the worry etched on his face. He sits behind his desk, a datapad clutched in his hands, projecting a holographic image of Dr. Anya Petrova. Her lab coat is rumpled, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion.
DR. ANYA PETROVA (voice strained)
Sean, I have the results. There's no easy way to say this, but it's the Wilde infection. Low level now, but it's spreading with every new case, growing stronger within the infected. We've tried exploratory surgery with Dr. Hernandez, but based on Consortium records and our own findings, there's little we can do to stop it once it takes hold.
SEAN GOODMAN (voice tight)
Wilde? But that… that almost wiped out House Rhineland during the war! How could it be here? We have quarantine protocols.
DR. ANYA PETROVA (shaking her head)
The protocols weren't enough. It's… mutating, adapting. The Nomads, the Slomon K'Hara, they're behind this. This isn't their usual tactic.
SEAN GOODMAN (pacing)
We can't tell the colonists. Panic would be catastrophic. Remember the chaos after the Kepler incident? We lost two ships to riots.
DR. ANYA PETROVA (standing firm)
Secrecy won't save us, Sean. The longer this goes on, the more entrenched the infection becomes. We need to act decisively.
SEAN GOODMAN (stopping, his face grim)
Act decisively? You saw what happened in Rhineland. They quarantined the infected, but the Nomads… they used them, turned them into puppets. We can't risk that.
DR. ANYA PETROVA
There might be another option. A… horrifying option, but an option nonetheless. We isolate the infected, not on the ship, but on the surface. We use the Gryphon's advanced sensors to pinpoint the source of this mutated Wilde. We let them… build the colony, controlled puppets for our benefit.
SEAN GOODMAN (incredulous)
You want to weaponize the infected? Use them as slave labor? Anya, this is madness! We don't even know the extent of their control. What if they turn the entire colony, surface and ship, against us?
DR. ANYA PETROVA (voice pleading)
It's a risk, yes, but a calculated one. This isn't the same Nomads we've encountered before. They're changing their tactics. Maybe there's a way to exploit this, a weakness in their control. We can research a cure while they build the foundation for our new home. It's a desperate gamble, but it's the only one we have left.
Sean stares at her, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. The silence stretches, filled only with the hum of the ship's systems.
FADE OUT.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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1. Ship History
2. Ship Specifications
3. Research Logs
4. Ship Logs 5. Personal Logs
Dr. Anya Petrova
*~Experiences For Learning~*
///PERSONAL LOGS SELECTED/// \\\ERROR, INFORMATION FRAGMENTED, RECONSTRUCTING\\\ //BEGINNING PLAYBACK//
A bittersweet farewell hangs heavy in the air. The Gryphon, its engines roaring, prepares to depart for Sirius. Sean, his face etched with worry, has decided to return. A desperate gamble, a last attempt to re-establish contact with the Consortium.
I, however, have chosen to stay. A choice driven by a responsibility I can't explain, a lingering hope that perhaps, here on J0720.4-3125, a cure can be found. The colonists, though fearful, have accepted my presence. Maybe it's the shared burden of the unknown, or perhaps a flicker of trust in the scientist who has been studying them from the beginning.
The silence from Sirius remains unbroken. A chilling omen, a harbinger of things to come. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination ignites within me. I will find a cure, or die trying. These colonists, these people who have become my unlikely family, deserve a chance.
The vast expanse of the alien landscape stretches before me, a canvas of possibility. My research lab, a makeshift affair within a prefabricated unit, becomes my new battleground. The future is uncertain, a tangled mess of hope and despair. But one thing is clear – I am no longer just a scientist. I am a protector, a beacon of hope in a darkening world. And here, on this alien world, my fight for a cure begins.
\\\Anomaly Detected\\\ //GENERATING PLAYBACK//
The primitive vessel trembles with the emotional turmoil of its host. This "Sean Goodman," so predictable in his fear. The colony's division plays out perfectly – the purge of the "infected" ensures the Gryphon's departure. A clean break, just as orchestrated.
Anya, bless her naivete, remains a willing puppet. She believes herself uninfected, a pawn in the grand game. The irony is delicious. Her "research", meticulously guided by subtle manipulations, has solidified the colony's fear and sealed their fate.
The silence from Sirius is… beneficial. A tremor in the fabric of hyperspace, a ripple almost felt. The Consortium… they've encountered the Pulse, haven't they? That magnificent anomaly, a barrier beyond their comprehension. A perfect distraction.
With the Gryphon gone, we are free. No more watchful eyes, no advanced medical scans to expose the truth. J0720.4-3125 will be a new hunting ground. These "colonists," separated, weakened, will fall like ripe fruit. A new hive shall bloom on this alien world, a testament to ~*Ours*~ ingenuity.
The primitive emotions of my host rise to the surface – a flicker of doubt, a sliver of fear. Easily quelled. Anya is but a vessel, a conduit for the will. Soon, she will be completely subsumed, another mindless drone in the ever-growing swarm.
The future stretches before us, a canvas waiting to be painted in the crimson hues of us. J0720.4-3125, a stepping stone to a conquest. The first domino falls, and they tremble. We have arrived.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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Months have bled into one another since the Gryphon's return to Sirius. The once-familiar Consortium felt alien, shrouded in a veil of secrecy and suspicion. We docked amidst hushed whispers and averted glances. Gone was the jovial bustle I remembered. A chilling silence hung heavy in the air.
Sailas Montgomery, the esteemed leader of the Consortium, was conspicuously absent. Rumors swirled – some whispered of a sudden illness, others hinted at a more sinister escape. In his place stood Brandon Wright, the enigmatic Director of R&D, now positioned at the helm.
My pleas to return to the colony fell on deaf ears. Brandon shut down any mention of J0720.4-3125 with an iron fist. A wall of "classified" information blocked every attempt at explanation. Even the Gryphon itself became a victim of this information purge. Generic systems, medical files, even the school desks – all scrubbed clean of any trace of our mission.
The few colonists who returned with us were forced into draconian non-disclosure contracts, their voices effectively silenced. Many chose to abandon the Consortium altogether, seeking solace on the fringes of civilization, specifically Planet Pygar in Omicron Theta. A simmering resentment towards both Brandon and myself festered amongst them.
The Consortium, in a carefully orchestrated public display, announced the Gryphon's return with a whimper, not a bang. Mentions of our mission were relegated to hushed footnotes. Instead, the focus shifted – a PR campaign extolling upcoming upgrades to the manufactory and industrial capacity. A smokescreen, I realized, a desperate attempt to distract from the true cost of the Pulse and its crippling effects on interstellar travel.
My private battles with Brandon have yielded no fruit. Frustration gnaws at me, but a chilling realization has settled in – there may be no saving the colonists. J0720.4-3125, with its silent struggle against the insidious Wilde infection, has become a ghost in the Consortium's records.
But despair is not in my nature. Instead, I have channeled my energies into rebuilding the Gryphon. A new crew was assembled, and the ship itself has undergone a much-needed overhaul. While the dream of returning to the colony fades, a new purpose emerges.
The Consortium tasks us with offering aid across the edge worlds – a lifeline in these disrupted times. The Pulse's after-effects linger, wreaking havoc on Jump Gates and traditional travel routes. We, the Gryphon, become a beacon of hope, a mobile forge offering much-needed repairs and resources.
Looking around the bustling hangar bay, I feel a curious sense of kinship. The clang of hammers, the hiss of welding torches – a symphony of creation. Perhaps a title change is in order. "Administrator" no longer seems fitting. Forgemaster, I muse, a title imbued with purpose and a touch of defiance. The Gryphon may have been grounded, but our fight is far from over.
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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Attention Zoners, Prospectors, and Pioneering Spirits!
The Gryphon has returned, and with it, a revolutionary leap in mobile manufacturing technology! The aftershocks of the Pulse may have crippled Zoner Stations across the sector, but fear not! The Gryphon's all-new, state-of-the-art Manufactory is here to answer the call!
Spanning both Technical and Industrial capabilities, the Gryphon's Manufactory is a marvel of human ingenuity. Gone are the days of relying on rickety station forges or waiting months for vital equipment to arrive via unreliable jump routes. The Gryphon brings the forge directly to YOU!
Here's a glimpse of what the Gryphon's Manufactory can craft for you:
Technical Marvels: From top-of-the-line mining lasers to cutting-edge jump drive components, our skilled engineers can create the tools you need to conquer the frontier.
Industrial Might: Need a sturdy pre-fab habitat for your new claim? Perhaps a heavy-duty refinery to process your latest haul? The Manufactory can handle it all, churning out industrial structures with unmatched efficiency.
Custom Solutions: Have a unique project in mind? Our team of experts is here to collaborate with you, bringing your vision to life within the Gryphon's mighty forges.
But that's not all! The Gryphon's recent "return from the unknown" has opened up exciting possibilities. With ample pre-fabricated structures left over from our previous endeavors (ahem, not to be discussed further), we're offering a limited-time discount on select pre-fabricated buildings!
Get your very own habitat, workshop, or even a fully functional hydroponics bay at a fraction of the cost! These structures are built with the same quality and durability that have made the Gryphon a legend across Siruis.
Don't delay! Contact the Gryphon today and let's discuss how we can help you build your future! Remember, the only limit is your imagination!
The Gryphon: We Build Your Dreams.
Disclaimer: The Gryphon Manufactory is subject to Consortium regulations and approval processes. Certain restrictions may apply. Pre-fabricated structures limited to stock on hand and may not reflect actual living conditions on all planets. The Gryphon is not responsible for any misuse of manufactured goods or unforeseen consequences arising from said use.
A more optimistic whisper claims the Manufactory can produce advanced technology based on discoveries the Gryphon made during its "exploration." These rumors hint at exotic materials, alien alloys, or even reverse-engineered alien tech.
This is the most persistent rumor. Whispers of a failed colony mission, of a disease that ravaged the settlers, and a hasty retreat by the Gryphon. The Consortium's tight-lipped response only fuels the speculation.
A rumor circulates about cryptic messages etched into the walls of disused bathrooms and storage areas. These messages, supposedly warnings from the vanished colonists about a lurking danger, have never been officially verified, but some spacers swear they've seen them.
Some spacers swear they can hear faint whispers emanating from the Gryphon's bulkheads, especially in the abandoned living quarters. Are they the ghosts of colonists lost on the failed mission?
Legend whispers that Captain Goodman, a notorious card shark in his younger days, hid a stash of rare Zonerlite crystals somewhere on the ship. (More likely a tall tale to rile up new crew members.)
The rumor mill churns with stories of Captain Goodman's elusive feline companion, said to possess uncanny intelligence and a fondness for midnight strolls through the ventilation shafts. (Truth! Whiskers, the Captain's sleek black cat, is a constant presence on the Gryphon.)
Some engineers swear the Manufactory operates with an uncanny efficiency, churning out complex components with minimal waste. They whisper of ghostly blueprints appearing on design screens, seemingly pre-programmed with impossible optimizations.
Legends claim the Manufactory possesses a "Forgemaster's Touch," imbuing manufactured goods with an unnatural durability. Some say tools forged on the Gryphon never break, while others whisper of strange symbols etched onto finished products.
Crew members stationed near the Manufactory claim to have glimpsed strange, bioluminescent materials being fed into the forge. They worry these materials are remnants of the colonists' quarantine or something more sinister altogether.
A more lighthearted rumor suggests the Manufactory's automated systems are haunted by the ghosts of disgruntled forge workers from the ship's previous life. (Probably just disgruntled maintenance personnel.)
Whispers claim the Gryphon's crew secretly offers "unofficial" manufacturing services – prototypes, black market weapons, even custom cyberware. (Highly unlikely, but the rumor persists among those desperate for rare technology.)
//END PLAYBACK// //RETURN TO MENU?//
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