Community Fan-Fic

[662c6e2dcb4ceRocketMan]

I was just daydreaming as usual and came upon an interesting idea for a little recreational shocking.  We have some pretty good fan-works that members have generously contributed over the years and each one is like a signature of the person who authored them.  While it's rewarding to make something like a fan-fic or piece of art, it's a personal effort and you can't really enjoy it with others because it's your own work.  Let's change that.

Why don't a bunch of us agree to write a fan-fic as a team?  The way I see it working is like this.  Someone will start out with a kernel for a story... get things going with a plot that has some potential and perhaps a lot of directions to go in.  Write a good chunk or segment and then leave it hanging in a clean and seamless way so that someone else can take over and keep going as they see it.  This means that one author doesn't really know what to write about until it's their turn and the challenge and fun is in deciding how to take someone else's work and their interpretations and build on it further.  It doesn't necessarily have to be all text either.  If someone is a good artist but not so good at fiction they might append a graphic after something really intense happens in the story... to illustrate what's going on and that's even more exciting because they have to take someone else's thoughts and words and picture the scenario in their head and then put that picture on paper. 

Of course this would all take place in the shock universe and we would have to set it either in shock 1 or shock 2.  If there is enough interest we could have 2 of them running simultaneously.  Authors could pick which one they'd rather work on.  We could sequence everybody so that they know their place in line and can follow the story every time there's an update, gathering ideas in order to complete their own portion.  I think it's a fun activity that gives everyone something to look forward to reading as well as a way to participate at the same time.  It might not be terribly coherent at times but it will be totally personalized and every forum member will have their mark in the work so when someone else reads it they can see how the style changes, the mood and the pace of the story. 

Thoughts?

[662c6e2dcb7a8Kolya]

I'm all for more fanfic but I kinda doubt that a coherent and interesting story can come from this. Trying to continue someone elses work will constrain authors more and more as the story progresses and just make everyone unhappy with the way it continues until it dies down.
I think a loose framework that allows for small to medium episodes would be more productive. Like the Divine Seeds Chronicles idea from days of yore.

In the SS2 manual you find this, referring to the time shortly after the hacker had defeated SHODAN on Citadel station:

Earth’s close call sent shock waves throughout the world, and disturbing indications of similar rogue activity were discovered in several other corporate AIs.

And that's enough for a start.

[662c6e2dcb9bdRocketMan]

I didn't even know these chronicles exist... just read one.  It seems very much like a conventional fanfic except that it is more in-line with the original plot.  Pretty entertaining read.

I guess the purpose of this idea is different in that it is truly a collaboration, which encourages participation and cooperation.  I fully agree that it won't come together like some beautiful machine but it doesn't necessarily have to in order to achieve the goal of getting people excited and immersed.  It's a thought experiement, almost a role-play.  Readers may not be impressed by the final piece of work as a polished product but it shouldn't be judged as such.  It's a live document, an evolving stream of imagination.  Anyone who's played shock and is familiar with it's themes and motifs should be able to add something intelligeable.  If it's really abysmal, it could be edited later to contain the core elements that the author was trying to portray, except with better grammar or more coherent sentences.

All the same, I'm just making a proposal, nothing more.

[662c6e2dcbb25Kolya]

Oh well then, just start. I promise to contribute.

[662c6e2dcbcfaSoldierG65434-2]

I feel like have have enough writing experience that I can contribute without embarrassing myself. Though I probably should play SS(2) again to refresh my memory. The horror!

[662c6e2dcc13eZylonBane]

I feel like have have enough writing experience that I can contribute without embarrassing myself.

Irony is a harsh mistress.

[662c6e2dcc277Kolya]

Somehow I knew you would LOVE this idea, ZB.

(Secretly preparing some intense slash fic for this occasion.)

When do we start?

[662c6e2dcc366ZylonBane]

I don't do fanfic. I don't even read fanfic.

[662c6e2dcc4c3voodoo47]

well, me neither, but there is first time for everything, I guess.

[662c6e2dcc601RocketMan]

Lol... don't be a party pooper ZB.  You can throw in a few sarcastic comments as part of some protagonist narrative and then leave the next poor shmuck to deal with the loose ends

If you'd all prefer me to start I can compose something and submit it as a word doc in the first post and then we can sequentially download and append the file.  Is that a good idea?

[662c6e2dcc71fKolya]

I don't even have MS Office or OpenOffice... Why not just post it? We'll have problems to find contributors (or readers) anyway. So why raise the threshold artificially?

[662c6e2dcccb3RocketMan]

Tags: °fictionOk ok, no problem.  Might want to pick up office though   First installment:

********************

The piercing sound of digital chaos filled the room.  SHODAN, with a look of pure horror in its eyes, clung madly to existence.  If it had arms, they would have been flailing desperately to hold onto something, indeed to tear itself right out of the screen if that would help it escape annihilation!  The proto-reality it had carefully crafted began to dissolve away all around him.  He stared triumphantly but slient, into the soul of his enemy and watched it fade away.  A thin rivulet of smoke was still rising from the barrel of his gun.  The tingle of electricity filled the air around him and points of light fell softly to the ground like stars.  At long last, SHODAN disappeared into the abyss, leaving Goggles in silence.  It was over. 

“So long old friend.  Ours just wasn’t meant to be”, he thought to himself with the slightest hint of remorse.

The bridge looked strangely familiar, almost boring.  The power systems hummed quietly, the display screens had resumed their old rituals.  A relieved hero walked slowly up to the main viewscreen and took a seat.  He reclined and let out a sigh.  For the first time in quite a while, he was stress-free and relaxed, knowing that nothing could harm him.  He had won.

…then something irked him.  Humans become complacent far too easily, he realized.  SHODAN was the culmination of years of research into artificial intelligence and it had been stripped of all moral and ethical responsibilities.  But something bothered him even more.  After BETA grove had been jettisoned from Citadel station, SHODANs processing unit drifted through space for years on end with nothing to do except think; something computers do exceedingly well.  Add to that the fact that SHODAN had developed a bitter, self-revering personality and you have the perfect ingredients for plotting revenge.  It would be foolish to think that she hadn’t learned something from her first failed attempt to enslave humanity.  SHODAN saw him coming for it well in advance after he learned its agenda, and had ample time to calculate every possible outcome.  Surely it would not allow itself to be destroyed so easily… would it?

Goggles became uneasy once again and sat up straight.

“This is exactly what SHODAN would have counted on”, he muttered to himself, slightly irritated that he had let his guard down so easily. 

“No wonder.  Everything up until the final battle was so linear, so obvious.  It ended simply and cleanly.  It was all part of SHODAN’s design”

What was it up to?  What sneaky plan for self-preservation was brewing in the background while he was busy shooting at ghosts?

“This ship is huge!  What’s worse, it’s even more huge out there!”

“Got to stay ahead of the game… got to take steps and eliminate the impossible so that I have a manageable plan of attack”

Goggles moved over to the adjacent terminal and pulled up a ship diagnostic summary.  He began pouring over data of all sorts:  Ship’s inventory, engines status, armament, tactical situation, computer logs and activities, the works.  His eyes were bright as jewels, as they reflected the pages of data and images emitted from the transflective screen.

“If my worst fears are true”, he thought, skin paling, “then I am already too late.”

[662c6e2dccfdaKolya]

I awake in a downtown Maglev train headed into New Atlanta's favelas. Outside flying transporter-mechs are shifting containers, slowly circling the burning funnels of Toha Heavy Industries, following their simple AI.

I had taken up the habit of using the train. When my face flickered over the news system I usually raised my shoulders and tried to disappear under the minkfur collar. There was a small piece of paper in one of my pockets with a name written on it in my own writing. The inconnu who had directed me to this meeting had said that the connection was safe, but I knew it was not.
I am so tired of this constant paranoia making me feel weak, old and vulnerable. At 37 I have a hurting back and I have trouble remembering things. I try to retrace the conversation behind closed eyes. Something about the Xerxes prototype... I would have called Janice Polito, Xerxes is her baby after all. Unfortunately she's 60 trillion miles away. I should just get out and spin-vac back home at the next station.

I open my eyes and see the train has already passed the city's outskirts. A concrete platform comes into sight, sprayed with gang signs. We're in the middle of a dump that is cut by the monorail. No spin-vac access is in sight.
The doors open with some creaking and a bunch of punks fill the train. They wear their drug patches proudly, like badges. A few have of them genetically "enhanced" limbs and eyes. Low quality body integration. It makes my skin crawl that people are willingly subjecting themselves to this barbarism.
One of them, a young man with a shaved head and an abstract circuit tattoo on his neck peels from the crowd and slumps into the seat beside me.
"Oh HAI! You look like a million dollars!" he roars at me, "Want some...some real alcohol?" He waves a bottle of vodka.
I notice a bluehaired girl in a pink jacket and miniskirt among his friends. She's eyeing me up with an undecided stare.
"Why don't you give it to your girlfriend?" I tell him friendly but firmly. Try to play the game, maybe he'll go away.
"She doesn't drink," he promptly replies with an annoyed grimace, "got a chip in her head. Vodka just makes her whack out...even more."

[662c6e2dcd0daRocketMan]

Confused...  is this a second, alternate fiction?

[662c6e2dcd227Kolya]

It's a different string within the story. We'll pull them together later, just go on now.

[662c6e2dcd3ecKolya]

The everyoung goddess was sitting in her crystal garden watching over the rows of silent cribs descending from her throne of light.
"Marie-Anne" she whispered, "Marie-Anne, I have a wish."
Somewhere among the porcelain corpses a pair of weary eyes reluctantly opened.
"No, I don't want to. Please... Let me sleep." The whisper was of a tired young woman.
Lines of power suddenly careened through the skies, searing with anger, lighting up the void. They clasped the woman's body and tore her up to green slit eyes in a furious visage. There was a moment of silence while this ridiculous projection morphed through three or four expressions in a way that was utterly inhumane to watch and eventually settled on a grotesque grin.
"Patience is not characteristic of a Goddess!" SHODAN's electrical jolts dictated as she jerked Delacroix's body back to life.

[662c6e2dcd4f5~RocketMan~]

Oh I see.  Ok great job with the 2 threads.  Anyone else care to fill in the holes?

[662c6e2dcd6ebKolya]

NEWSFLASH

This morning at 0402 the "Von Braun" - the first starship capable of travelling faster than light speed - appeared close to the moon where it crashed only 20 minutes ago.
It has been more than one year after the Von Braun left earth and more than six months after communication was mysteriously lost with the ship. The last messages were sent by the UNN soldier T. Suarez and Dr. Marie Delacroix, who had been the designer of the ship's Faster-Than-Light drive and a UNN nobel laureate. Both messages agreed that the ship had been hijacked by an unknown force. Whether this is the cause for the crash isn't clear as of this time.
Shortly after its reappearance the Von Braun got caught in the moon's gravity and may well have been fully destroyed in the resulting crash near Mare Cognitum. An investigation team consisting of combined UNN and Trioptimum forces has been dispatched to investigate the crash site.
Experts are predicting this event to cause a landslide in the UNN elections next year.

[662c6e2dcd7d8RocketMan]

Voodoo47 where are you?  Get your butt in here

[662c6e2dcd8aevoodoo47]

I'm here, as always.

[662c6e2dcd983~RocketMan~]

Lol that was an invitation to write something

[662c6e2dcda82voodoo47]

I know, but I doubt I have enough talent for this. as I already mentioned, I never even read fanfic before.. and I might start reading it now, but that's about it.

[662c6e2dcdeb7Kolya]

The train approaches the next station, passing a row of twenty or thirty agents. I can only see their dark suits flying by, whether they are UNN or TriOp men I don't know. The punks have occupied all the doors in our wagon and seem to get ready for a fight.
The young guy with the vodka bottle suddenly comes very close.
"They know who you are," he says. "let's get out!"
He grabs me by my arm and we rush to an exit.
The blue haired girl is in front of us as the Maglev comes to a halt. The creaking doors open and a small blue flame shoots from her hand, deftly slicing an agent's body open that's in her way. He slumps to his knees, only to empty his bowels onto the platform with a puzzled look on his face.
Most of his colleagues are being attacked by the punks now. Our exit is free, this is our chance. The two start to run and I follow them.
I don't want to get caught by either TriOp or the UNN on the way to a secret meeting, but somehow this situation has gotten completely out of hand. It takes two blocks before my rationale sets in again. I stop and scream: "That... that was completely unnecessary!"
The skinhead and the blue haired girl stop and turn around.

"I know," he says to me, "she is still a bit of a sultry one... Who would have thought?"
Are they grinning at each other? I don't doubt anymore that they are a pair.
She holds her hand up as if to greet our followers, but no one is to be seen. Then she says: "We have a moment."
It's the first time I hear her voice and I'm surprised how soft and delicate it is. She doesn't sound like a street kid, more like a sad uptown girl.

I have decided to get to the point before I will go back to the station.
"Are you the one who called me?" I address the skinhead.

"No, I didn't call you. A friend saw you get on the train and informed me. I immediately recognized it was you, Dr. Delacroix."

"Then who are you?"

"I'm the one who released the AI known as SHODAN and put her back to sleep 43 years ago." he says earnestly.
I don't know what to answer to this ridiculous statement. Kids are imitating the hacker on the streets every day. But after the Citadel incident he had simply vanished.
"The hacker would be at least sixty years old now! And you are..." I begin.

He cuts me off: "Yeah, I'm holding up pretty well, thanks to your company's generous help and excellent cryo-products." he says with an embarrassed smile. He steps away when the blue haired girl comes closer. She looks at me. And with her same soft voice she says:
"And I am the AI known as SHODAN, the murderer of threethousand fourhundred and fiftytwo innocent people on Ci-Ci-Citadel station."

I feel him touching my arm while I still stare at her in disbelief.
"Please come with us Dr. Delacroix. We risked our lives to speak with you."

"It's not my fault you risked your life," I say defensively, "Besides you just risked my life too. I could be dead by now."

"That's correct," he says gazing at me, "and with all due respect, I wonder why you are not. But since you are here and alive, I need to show you something. Please come with us."

[662c6e2dce403RocketMan]

The survey team began scouring the wreckage of the Von Braun as I sent a transmission back to Earth reporting a successful landing and disembarkation.  I was glad to do a few administrative tasks before joining my men onboard the crashed derelict.  Something about it scared the living shit out of me.  Based on the specs and ship layout I’d reviewed with my peers in the briefing back on Earth, this ship should have left an enormous impact crater.  Instead it left more of a surface blemish and the outer hull was strewn all over the place like shrapnel.

No less than 10 minutes had passed and I was being raised on the comms.

“Jim, this is incredible.  I think you should have a look at this ship up close.  Stan and I are at grid reference 42 Charlie”

“Understood.  I’m on my way.”

My stomach turned as I set off for the wreck.  Excavation equipment was busy at work all over the damn place, picking up debris and analyzing artefacts that had been ejected in the explosion.  This part of the moon had virtually no infrastructure and looked pretty much untouched until now.  The ejecta blanket from the impact hadn’t fully settled and there was a fine layer of particulate still floating around, making visibility a little poor.  It was a surrealistic experience.

As I got closer to 42C, I started to get my first glimpse of the remains for myself.  I could see entire decks cross-sectioned as a result of the hull fracturing.  This was typical.  What I didn’t see was anything inside!  There was no furniture, no bodies, very little evidence of any equipment or machinery….  a severed cable here or there, not much else.  I saw what looked like architecture from the hydroponics level but if it hadn’t been for the colour scheme and physical location in the ship I wouldn’t have known any better.  It was barren, almost sterile.

“Edward!  What the fuck is going on here?  Did everybody just pack up and leave?  This ship looks like it was completely gutted from top to bottom!”

“No kidding.  We’ve only begun to scratch the surface here but I’d guess that more than half of the ship’s mass is unaccounted for, mostly the functional parts.  No bodies anywhere… and it gets worse”

“Of course it does!”

“Stan found one of the crew.”

“How is that worse?!”

“You’ll see.  Stan’s examining it now.”

My pulse quickened as I hurried over to where Stan was crouched.  I was starting to feel light-headed.  This was weird.  Too weird.  Not the kind of weird where you feel like you’re going to get ambushed by zombies or anything.  This was the type of weird where you come across something real subtle like, that just screws with your understanding of reality and how things ought to work in the universe.

“Jesus H Christ!”

Stan turned around, expressionless and then resumed his forward gaze.

In front of me was a machine of some sort.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  It resembled an abortion of a washing machine with psi-amps plugged into it all over the place.  I could make out the outline of prism cartridges running down the back of the machine, some sort of orb-like things lining the bottom, most of which were cracked.  Those that still functioned flickered on and off, causing the machine to shift around haphazardly.  The body or chassis seemed to be heavily armoured although features like electronics and hydraulics were visible between the panels if you looked at the right angle.  And recessed in the upper right corner of the machine was a force field through which a pair of synthetic eyes could be seen peering out of a lifeless face.

I may not have mentioned that all this was incidental to the scene taking place a few feet ahead of the thing.  An intermittent form… (holographic?), stooped low to the ground, blinking in and out of existence, without colour, without contrast but bright as day.  He bore resemblance to the face in the machine.  The incoherent babble coming from the being made little sense to me but in any case I was unable to make any further comment.  I felt as though I was becoming disconnected.  I turned around and walked back to the shuttle.  Edward stood silently and for a while and then followed.  Stan remained fixated on the ghostly apparition and listened intently:

“….wasn’t enough to….”

“I tried….eep up wi…”

“…irst it nee…arts of the sh….but ..efor.. long….ranscended matte…”

“A…..mila…d the shi……xponenti…ate.”

“It’s all……r now”

“ou’ll ne…..ee it co….”

“I’m s….”