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Mohab fiction.
Aug. 5th, 2005 01:16 pmFor those unaware, the following material is written in the Boardieverse, an extension of the realm created by Maritza Campos's College roomies From Hell!!!. The setting is the closest thing the organization known as The Board has ever gotten to a ghost town. How did they get one? Well, that location was the point where the Board Army faced down The Adversary, many years ago... and lost.
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Dear [CLASSIFIED OPERATIVE],
You know, it’s not always easy being up here in the tower. When you get up here, it means that you start being responsible for people other than yourself. You have to make decisions about other people’s lives. Bad decisions are lethal out here.
Hmm? Yes, I hear the voices, too, but I’m used to them. They don’t say anything different, and after a while, you just start tuning them out. The demonic ones, anyway. When it’s friends talking, it’s different enough to startle you into paying attention for a bit. That can be dangerous, too. Getting caught up in someone else’s ghost play is rarely a good thing.
I’ve gone out beyond the boundaries a couple times. I’ve also done my fair share of toasting the inhabitants of this place. Of course, it would be nice if the places we clear out would stay that way, rather than shifting around and getting recorrupted.
Re-corrupted is probably a more accurate term than I thought. The place has a virus, and every time we think we’ve added another plot to our stabilized section, it gets creeped on and taken over again. The only permanent solution we’ve found can’t be mass-produced.
Some days, they voices tell me to run out beyond the bounds and just blow everything up that I can, to keep fighting until I die or I get revenge for all the people who have already died there. Some days, I listen to them a bit more than I should.
Another ship’s been taken down out there. I just want this to be over. I’m tired of fighting a war of attrition against those bastards. For once, I want them to suffer like I do, every day of the week, listening to those Goddess-damned voices and hearing the stories of all the people who die out there.
Fuck it. I’m going out there.
[Signature is missing, no indication of ever having been appended. Approximately three hours after composition, outpost 6-B reports explosion sighted near hangar bay area - considerable damage to structure, regeneration complete within two hours of explosion. No Board survivors detected. Recommendation: File this with the other incident reports. This has to stop, somehow. - S.A]
------------------
Dear [CLASSIFIED OPERATIVE],
You know, it’s not always easy being up here in the tower. When you get up here, it means that you start being responsible for people other than yourself. You have to make decisions about other people’s lives. Bad decisions are lethal out here.
Hmm? Yes, I hear the voices, too, but I’m used to them. They don’t say anything different, and after a while, you just start tuning them out. The demonic ones, anyway. When it’s friends talking, it’s different enough to startle you into paying attention for a bit. That can be dangerous, too. Getting caught up in someone else’s ghost play is rarely a good thing.
I’ve gone out beyond the boundaries a couple times. I’ve also done my fair share of toasting the inhabitants of this place. Of course, it would be nice if the places we clear out would stay that way, rather than shifting around and getting recorrupted.
Re-corrupted is probably a more accurate term than I thought. The place has a virus, and every time we think we’ve added another plot to our stabilized section, it gets creeped on and taken over again. The only permanent solution we’ve found can’t be mass-produced.
Some days, they voices tell me to run out beyond the bounds and just blow everything up that I can, to keep fighting until I die or I get revenge for all the people who have already died there. Some days, I listen to them a bit more than I should.
Another ship’s been taken down out there. I just want this to be over. I’m tired of fighting a war of attrition against those bastards. For once, I want them to suffer like I do, every day of the week, listening to those Goddess-damned voices and hearing the stories of all the people who die out there.
Fuck it. I’m going out there.
[Signature is missing, no indication of ever having been appended. Approximately three hours after composition, outpost 6-B reports explosion sighted near hangar bay area - considerable damage to structure, regeneration complete within two hours of explosion. No Board survivors detected. Recommendation: File this with the other incident reports. This has to stop, somehow. - S.A]
