[OOC] ＢＬＡＣＫＯＵＴ: Lore (Read Only)

[Annasiel]

Biological Enhancements: ONIs, Tap Tattoos, and Prosthetics

Terminal is a society of progress, and the line isn’t drawn at inanimate. Over the years, scientists at Neuros and Jagercorp have devised technological enhancements that improve the functionality, resilience, and repairability of various human features. The three most common of these enhancements are ONIs, tap tattoos, and cybernetic prosthetics.



ONIs, or Optical-Neural Interfaces, are any variety of ocular implants that connect directly to the optic nerve. Most wealthier individuals have an ONI of some form or another, generally for projecting newsfeeds or video streams while away from their personal computers. Jagercops in particular utilize ONIs in their special operatives branch, and have developed a custom UI that aids with weapon aiming, detail zoom, and processing microexpressions of potential perps. They aren't nearly as common for typical beat cops, however, due to the high risk when dealing with electro-magnetic radiating devices. A braindead cop is a useless cop!



Tap tattoos are similar to normal tattoos in the sense that they rely largely on ink embedded in the skin. Beyond that, however, they differ tremendously. Made of a mix between pressure-sensitive sub-dermal mesh and polarizing pigmentation, they simulate touchscreen LCD displays beneath the epidermis. They require a backlight to function in dim atmosphere, and while many make use of a bioluminescent pigment beneath the polar, cheaper installations may need ambient light to be visible. Generally, tap tattoos are connected wirelessly to a computational device somewhere on the body, but some have an encapsulated microprocessor directly connected to the host's nervous system.



Cybernetic prosthetics have come a long way. Generally made of a lightweight nanocarbon mesh, they are able to function at peak human physical capacity or beyond, with the added benefit of high durability to stress, strain, or environment. They often don't need an internal power supply (granted, "supercharged" cybernetics that are capable of superhuman feats will), running directly on the bioenergy of the host through neural interfacing.

Transhumanism: Cyborgs and Organic Computers

Some individuals don't wait for injury before they get cybernetics, instead opting to lop off their limbs in the pursuit of supremacy. Though actual cyborgs are rare - EMP threats tend to deter most from going full robot - there are some individuals who have the money, means, and drive to try and replace every component of their body with a technological counterpart. They tend to rely on some form of power supply, as the strain of too many modifications on an interfaced neural network risks braindeath. Such people may appear fully human, acting, moving, and speaking naturally, but underneath their clothes lies a whirring mess of servos, wiring, and microprocessors.

On the opposite end of the spectrum are biological computers. While the research is limited in this area, Neuros believes they've found a way to rework lab grown nervous tissue into wiring for computer devices.

: call ChavaProt.dat
>Initializing.
>Call success.
: buffer ChavaProt.dat
>Initializing.
>Buffer success.
: buffer.out ChavaProt.dat
>Initializing.
>Initializing.
>Initializing.
>Buffer fail. The requested data file is corrupt or encrypted.
>Output buffer anyway? (Y/N)
: Y

TwoyearsbeforetheirdisappearanceAxusASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZoASyi8XqElcc0OLGXKLlNPojSIQwZCywDXvjxJEnXhN7uQp0xwXq1spSkTE4SH8ctktfP7eqHTlqlgVasCWdftvDVmN7PowBJ3jkZo

[Annasiel]

The Pitch



"Down in the deep, we dare not go. Weep for the ones who live below."
-Jorgund Scalar, poet. 201 PL.

Below the struts and lofty catwalks of the Terminal high city is a world cast in perpetual shadow. Here, the only light save for the bit that dribbles through the cracks comes from fires, emergency lamps, and whatever lighting tech can be salvaged. This is the true undercity of Terminal. Filled with the poorest of the poor, those who live here are either unable to pay for the rattiest of high city condos, or choose to distance themselves from society as a whole, be it for benign or more nefarious reasons. Jagercorps, stretched for resources already as they are, only descend into the Pitch if they have explicit reason to, and Selmalite doesn't view the dirt poor residents as worth the effort of extortion. Even Neuros, with their many eyes and ears, has trouble branching out into the Pitch, though this is more a matter of inaccessibility over desire; the majority of undercity tech is, if not analog, at least detached from the Neuros Fi web.



Stack Row is a mile-long stretch of illegal whorehouses, unlicensed bars, and black market stalls built in the abandoned tunnel of an old exchange duct. It isn't organized, in the Selmalite sense, but everyone works together and there is a degree of hierarchy between the proprietors.



Contrary to the rough-and-tough mentality many denizens of the Pitch exhibit, the farmers of the blue (or, if you want to get offensive, sporeheads) are a group of communal vagrants whose entire culture revolves around the cultivation and ingestion of a psychedelic mushroom. Their relaxed predisposition is a result of the plant's mild soporific effects.

Other, more diverse farms exist down here as well. The Pitch exists as an entire civilization underneath Terminal, acting entirely self-sufficient, living on the fruits of the planet's surface.

[Annasiel]

Sustenance

For a cityscaped planet, proper food is difficult to come by. Of course, the denizens of the pitch have little issue, planting fungi and mosses in the loamy, compost-enriched surface. Those above, however, have no such luck. The city of Terminal extends across the entire inner toroid, the land of the poles is far too rocky and chaotic to sustain farmland, and the deserts are wholly out of the question -- anything grown there would either end up a plantcicle or something more closely resembling a shed lizard skin than anything floral.

There are, of course, extenuating circumstances. Wealthier districts of Terminal have sufficient room and supplies for greenhouses, or if space permits it, livestock ranches. Organic fruits and vegetables, as well as mammalian meat, are expensive luxuries only the wealthy can afford. The rest gain their primary nutritional content through multivitamins, supplements, and silvery packets known as Slurries. The producers of Slurries claim they come in a variety of flavors, unlocked by mixing the vile powder with any sort of liquid, but everyone knows this is a fabrication. All Slurries taste like shit.

Other forms of nutritional intake include lab-grown protein, processed insect meat, and if you happen to be in the wrong Selmie territory, something that tastes suspiciously of sweetened pork.

Alcohol and Drugs

Vices are a common sight on Terminal. With the loss of the Technocrats, and with them hope, many turned to chemical happiness to weaken the bite of existential dread. There are a variety of both alcohols and drugs common to the city. Here is a list of the most common.

Anterograde - A popular ethanol product that's renowned for its soporific and hallucinogenic effects. Rumor has it it's radioactive due to the blue glow, but the it's really just a fermented and distilled juice from the Pitch's blue mushrooms.

Buzzkill - This liquor has a painfully high proof. It's made from moss sugars.

Liquid Trash - Despite its unappetizing name, this chemical cocktail has a slightly sweet taste. Cheap knockoffs use antifreeze instead of pure glycerin.

Tab - A powerful hallucinogen. So named because it comes in sheets of perforated white tabs. Synthetic opioid.

Meth - It's meth. It's bad. It's crystalline.

Cocaine - Do I really need to explain this?

Opium/Marijuana - Both considered a delicacy among wealthier patrons. These are in limited supply due in the overworld.