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  1. This is the second time @Kali Nicholotti has written for the opposing ship's EMH in our current mission and I think it's worth memorializing here how even in a relatively short piece, she deftly captures the Robert Picardoness of it:
  2. I've been enjoying this scene a lot, but this sim by @Kettick really stood out to me! The narration was really engaging and I felt like I learned a lot about Kettick! Not just about his personality, but a bit about how he views the world and his place in it.
  3. You can really feel Nesre’s anguish in this post. This was a wonderful and engrossing read @Alora DeVeau. — ((Corridor, Deck 6, USS Intrepid)) They were in the past. That realisation was nothing new, but it seemed that the weight of it was coming down more and more heavily upon the minds of those who were stuck there. Even Nesre felt it, that sudden pressure of the knowledge that they may not be able to return to the reality from which they had come. All they had known, all they loved was back in a different century far removed from where and when they were. The counselling staff were not immune from such thoughts. The strike in the breast at the dawning that she might never see her mother or her brother again had hit at the least expected moment. Her sessions were filled with people on their break between shifts, lamenting their losses, their fears, and they were all quite valid. And Nesre? She hadn’t taken a moment to consider her own. It was in the middle of the corridor that it truly hit. There was little traffic, those going on duty taking to tasks they had to finish, those coming off allowing themselves the luxury of a meal, or a shower, or simply some well earned rest. And she made her way toward her own quarters, her thoughts whirling with the fears of others, only to have her own suddenly rush to the forefront. Her feet froze and she stood there a moment, the tightening sensation in her chest, that squeeze that left her breathless. One hand pressed against where her heart pounded loudly within its chamber, the other hard against the wall in order to offer some level of stability. Deep breaths. Slow. Controlled. Inhale. One. Two. Three. Her whole galaxy had circled around her family. Even in the darkest times, when the shadows in her past had clawed at her, when the pain and suffering of their situation seemed unbearable, they had at least been able to find comfort, support, and love in each other. Since then, her universe had expanded to others, and she’d found there were more stars and suns than she had ever thought possible. But even though some of those lights in the darkness had come with her, she could not help but mourn over what she might very well have lost. Slow. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. They game in gasps, sudden rushes of air that squeezed in and out of her lungs in chaotic draws, sharp, and painful. Closing her eyes, Nesre tried to count down, then focused on something. Anything. Noise. Noises. There were noises. The hum of the ship. It was there. Something beeped, a steady rhythm. And there were footsteps… That snapped her back to reality and Nesre managed to inhale more slowly, then gained control. Straightened, she allowed herself another breath, long and easy, her heart still pounding, but with less urgency than before. Her eyes opened, and around the corner, a familiar blue form appeared, and almost ran into her. He barely stopped in time, then tried to circumvent her. Kel: Excuse me Lt. Salo. His voice was dark, rough, not at all like the V’Len she knew, and his form of address in such an informal situation stole her attention. Every muscle of his body tightened, the line of his jaw sharpened with tension. All her own cares were cast aside, her mind snapped back to the reality of the here and now, and without hesitation, Nesre turned and followed him. Salo: V’Len, wait! Kel: ::annoyed:: I'm on an errand of my own Lieutenant. You need not involve yourself. An errand? In such a temper? His continued response toward her was cold, callous, certainly not the V’Len she knew. Their earlier conversation burst to the forefront of her mind, and it only helped to spur her onward. Salo: V’Len, what’s wrong? What’s happened? Her inquiry only set his ire against her further. He stopped so suddenly, that this time, Nesre was the one who almost collided with him. She jerked to a stop as he whirled around, his form looming over her and shadows darkening his expression. Kel: ::gritting his teeth:: Nothing is wrong and I don't need your help. You should turn around and go the other way. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond before he turned again and began to stomp away. Once again, Nesre followed, unwilling to simply let this go. As a counsellor, she was duty bound. But as a friend, there was more at stake, and more determination to help and protect those whom she cared for. Salo: I can't do that and you know it. Kel: response Salo: You're obviously upset. I can't just leave you like this. It wasn’t just his current state, though that was troubling enough. Nesre knew there was trouble brewing in that mind and heart of his, and the situation left him torn, struggling with a part of himself he hadn’t really had to wrestle with before. Nesre picked up the pace, coming alongside the man. Kel: Response He wasn’t talking, but then again, he had already talked. While Nesre didn’t know all the details of what had happened on the surface of the planet, she knew some from the preliminary reports. Because part of her job was to keep up with the officers and possible scenarios that could be concerning, Nesre paid close attention to what happened on the ship, and this was no different. With V’Len’s case, she’d an opportunity to talk with him earlier, and had seen first hand one of the struggles he dealt with. And now? Now she had a suspicion. Salo: This is about Millie, isn’t it? Kel: Response
  4. ((Personal Quarters, Deck 5, USS Intrepid)) The quarters Avander had been assigned were private (a positive), but windowless (a negative). Looking out at the vastness of space never got old, and he liked to record his personal and duty logs while staring out a window. Instead, he found himself staring at a painting of geometric shapes, a circle and a triangle. He thought it might be something meaningful to Vulcans—what was it called—ID-eye-see? That sounded about right. He would have preferred a window. The crew had already received a briefing on how to file their official duty logs. There would be a copy for the ship’s records of their specific actions, but another, more detailed copy (with notes about the temporal shenanigans) forwarded to the Department of Temporal Investigations. Their protocols would keep certain details under wraps for at least the next 135 years. Still in discussions with the counseling staff, Avander realized that many of the staff were concerned about the stress their loved ones would have in the future when they suddenly blinked out of time in the year 2400. While they hoped to get back to the very time they left (or thereabouts), some of the crew were (justifiably) concerned that that was easier said than done. So the solution they had come up with was, in Avander’s humble opinion, quite clever. They would encode personal messages with a codex that would be indecipherable until 2400 and send personal messages to friends and family along nonrelativistic, old-fashioned radio transmissions. To most observers, they would look like background radiation, but if they had made accurate calculations, Starfleet would be able to intercept their signals, decode them, and pass along messages to those left behind in 2400. Avander pressed the record button on the old-timey data pad, stared at the painting, and began to dictate. Personal message Saturn Delphi Codex I don’t know when, or if, I will return to my own time. I want my family to know that I am well enough. I’ve taken a detour to the past and the crew and I have helped to save a planet’s population in the 2260’s. More alarmingly, there are transhumanistic beings aboard, including a Q. I’ve made contact with Auntie Elmond and have been reassured that things will all work out. Avander paused the recorder. He didn’t feel that this would end up being his “last message” home and it felt off to try and force any finality to the message. Still, in case something unexpected did happen to them, it might be better to add a few more words. The past isn’t as fun as I was led to believe—at least it’s a lot more inconvenient than Grandpa Endic always made it out to be. Our Starfleet delta’s aren’t even combages! He could go on about the technology limitations of this age, but didn’t want to come off whiny. Avander struggled to think of an appropriate topic for this awkward cross-time communication. Without technology and endless access to information libraries, I’m gaining a better appreciation of analog listening. I think I’m getting better at it, but there are always so many different ways to interpret the same data… Shoot—what had started as a good personal observation had turned into a philosophical reflection within two sentences. His mother would chide him for being too abstract in his messages. Perhaps it would be best to wrap this up and get ready for his shift. One way or another, I’m sure I’ll see you all again “soon.” I am grateful for the opportunity for a truly novel adventure—after all, that’s what I signed up for! I just didn’t expect my assignments to take me quite so far from home. All my love, Avander. That would have to do. Time to get back to work. -- Lt JG Avander Promontory Intelligence Officer USS Oumuamua O239910AP4
  5. I absolutely loved reading this - our normally delightfully cheerful CEO getting to tear things up. And a Blondie reference, what's not to love? @Hallia Yellir, great work as always!
  6. Really enjoyed this whole scene between @Oddas Aria and @N. Aristren aka Trovek and this final sim wraps it up nicely. ((Upper Operations, Anchorage, Denali Station)) The last conversation between Arys and Tito hadn’t exactly gone well. He had told her of his involvement in Aaron’s death, and she had told him that she was about ready to stab him but didn’t want to ruin the new carpet. The snarky comment and kicking him out had, at the time, seemed better than yelling or crying or any other emotional outburst. She had handled Lukin in a similar manner - by writing him an equally strongly worded note - after all he had KNOWN and not told her - and wordlessly leaving with the USS Braveheart. All of this had, in the heat of the moment, seemed like a good approach. A mature approach even. For hours she had been beyond pleased with herself - after all, she was stepping away from the conversation rather than escalating the matter further, right? … Wrong. Somewhere halfway through the journey to Denali, Arys had realised that two wrongs didn’t make one right, and that she had effectively abandoned her family. Now she surprised herself by how sure she was that the enjoinment was still happening. She was even inviting people to it. Trovek: I am getting married. He is a Cardassian Ambassador and it will be... somewhat of a big deal I suppose. I would be delighted for you to come. Which, admittedly, isn't a good reason to travel to Ops, but I do have a colleague who is trying to interface a Xindi-Insectoid build ship with something that doesn't require compound eyes to pilot it - which seems infinitely more interesting. Cardassian enjoinment ceremonies were very private, but the celebration around it was meant to showcase a families wealth and anything but. Due to Lukin’s status as Ambassador, it was expected of him to invite whoever was politically relevant enough, and it was still a matter of discussion who would actually be facilitating the wedding ceremony. Probably Taybrim. Which was awkward because Arys and Sal didn’t have the best relationship. In other words, while playing around with a Xindi-Insectoid build trade ship wasn’t entirely Arys’ cup of tea, it was a lot less terrifying. Oddas stood and placed her mug in the Replicator, then motioned to Arys, who gave a non-verbal “yes, please”. While she hadn’t planned on taking up so much of the woman’s time, she actually found herself positively surprised by the conversation. It wasn’t oppressively personal. It didn’t make her feel like there was something wrong with her because she didn’t have the inclination to make friends with every new Ensign. With the happy shiny people that made up Ops’ CO and FO, she always felt … inadequate. Oddas: Congratulations, of course - I hope you are very happy. I haven't been to 118 more than a dozen times, generally to teach a class, and the last time was because I was tricked into it. ::sitting the replicated items on the desk:: Why are we retrofitting a Xindi ship? The thrill? Good question. Because Nestira had taken a liking to the ship she had… apparently… found… on Miranda VII. Because Arys, while not an Engineer, appreciated challenges and passion projects, and had offered her help. Arys reached for the coffee and for a moment simply observed the wisps of steam carried the familiar aroma through the room. Trovek: .. Yeah, pretty much. ::beat:: I realise that’s probably not a good reason. Not a good reason to have someone like Oddas travel to Ops. Oddas: ::smiling:: I have an entire building out there ::she motioned with her thumb to the city:: just dedicated to weird engineering projects, so that seems perfectly reasonable to me. Or precisely the reason to have someone like Oddas travel to Ops. Trovek: I am sure the other Engineers involved would love to meet you. She was thinking of Velix and Egil in particular. Velix was pretty much excited about everything, and Ensign Egil (who was actually Lieutenant JG Renot, but that didn’t alliterate, so Arys continued thinking of him a Ensign Egil and was actually proud of herself for not saying it to his face) would likely be appreciative of an assignment that didn’t involve handling explosives. Oddas: I'll definitely try, could be a fun adventure. Arys gave a nod, and for a brief moment she remembered what she had actually meant to ask Oddas about - her transfer. For the past year and a half she had mentally crewed on her perceived failure as counsellor. Even though she loved being back in medical and was, by all measures, fairly successful. Had she not spent those five years at different academy campuses and interning on different vessels, she would have been home to spent time with her grandfather before he passed away. But as she sipped from her coffee, she wondered if it really mattered. There were really just two possible answers - a yes and a no. If Oddas hadn’t kicked Arys off the Juneau for her questionable hallucinations, it meant that Arys had been agonising about something pointless for a year and a half. Which wasn’t exactly a good investment of her time. And if Oddas had kicked Arys off her ship, then there was probably a good reason for it, and it had been done in the best interest of the crew. And as Arys was figuring out what kind of leader she wanted to be, she decided that this was an approach she too would take. [End Scene] PNPC Lt. Trovek Arys Chief Medical Officer Starbase 118 Ops J239809TA4 “Paths are made by walking” -- Franz Kafka
  7. I will admit I was surprised by how this JP played out - I guess I expected Tito's cold stare and DeVeau to be lenient I very much love that this wasn't the case, and that Tito gets to retake Diplomacy 101 AGAIN. I'm looking forward to seeing him in Science, and I enjoy that slightly stricter side to our beloved FO
  8. I adore reading well-written solo sims that give an insight into the character, and highlight history and personality traits that aren't emphasised on in other interaction. I liked this one in particular for choosing the style of a Captain's personal log - I hope we get to read more of this!
  9. Poor Valin finally bites the bullet and goes for some counselling. However, the only available counsellor is Kelv a Tellarite. This may well be his first and last session! (( Counseling Offices, USS Astraeus )) Kelv: Ktarian bundt cake. Warm. And a mug of Vulcan hot chocolate with nutmeg. The replicator chirped and a moment later the requested items materialized in front of the Tellarite, who took them in hand and carried them back to the chair and small table in front of it to set them upon. Zera had precisely two hours between her last appointment and the next, which had involved her enduring a tirade of self doubt and low self esteem from a crewman in Ops. Who was infatuated with a member of Security and didn’t know how to express themselves due to the aforementioned tirade and a fear of rejection. That had been unbearable. But, Zera was confident she was able to argue some sense into the poor piglet. And now she had a chance to enjoy a quick bite of her favorite dessert, while going over the notes for her next appointment in a two hours. She took a bite of the gooey dessert and squealed in delight. It faded when she read through the previous counseling notes that referenced that relationship woes were among the previous concerns. She made a porcine grunt. What was with this ship and relationships? She sipped from the hot chocolate with nutmeg when the door chime beeped. Another series of grunts emanated from her as she grabbed the napkin of the table to dab her lips with. Kelv: Come in already! Zera looked up at the door as it opened and admitted a Human who almost had a respectable amount of fur on his chin. He tried to hide a grin but she saw it and the Tellarite’s brow raised slightly. She remained seated and stared at the Human who dared to interrupt her favorite meal of the day with his emotional issues. Yes this was her job and she was damned good at it but she’d barely gotten one bite of her bundt cake. Dermont: I, um, was wonderin' if ya 'ad time fer an unexpected session, ma'am. Kelv: I just like to sit in my office, in uniform for hours on end because I enjoy the decor and hope someone will stop by and ask me inane questions. ::She grumbled:: What do you think, crewman? The Human raised a brow and Zera took a bit of internal delight as it seemed like he was trying to figure out how to react to her comment. Dermont: response The Tellarite sat back in her chair and stared at the scruffy looking Human while she picked up a nearby PADD and pulled up his personnel record so she could get an idea of whom it was in front of her. . Kelv: They made you a lieutenant? And an Engineer? ::She continued reading:: I didn’t realize that Starfleet recruited from elderly care facilities these days. ::She snorted:: I can’t help you with your aches and pains, go to Sickbay for that. I’m just an emotional Engineer. Zera eyed the Human and took a sip from her mug. If she couldn’t enjoy her cake, at least she could enjoy her beverage. Dermont: response Kelv: I didn’t stutter. The plaque on the door says counselor. I’m an emotional and psychological engineer. I help fix the things in people that Sickbay can’t.::she stated matter of factly and eyed him:: Though something tells me, I'm going to be pulling overtime with you. Well. What’s your problem? The porcine counselor snorted in irritation at him. She grabbed a fresh PADD from the small table to her side, opened a new counseling file and made some notations. It was obvious despite her demeanor she was ready to work on her news repair project. In fact, all of her logs were labeled as Counseling Repairs. She intentionally made a note at the top of the file: Ancient Relic. It was the little things that made her smile. Dermont: response ((ooc: Didn’t want to add too many tags here but I hope you enjoy your counselor. Remember, you asked for this. )) ========================================= Lieutenant Zera Kelv Counselor As simmed by Lieutenant Commander Toryn Raga Second Officer/Chief Tactical & Security Officer USS Astraeus NCC-70652 Astraeus Staff Member Writer ID: A239410TR0 https://wiki.starbase118.net/wiki/index.php?title=Toryn_Raga
  10. I love seeing players step outside their comfort zone and try something new! This is a really well-written sim by @Solaris that gave a nice ending to MSNPC Richard Barlowe and served as a great way to re-introduce McLaren as Director of Intel (Congrats btw!) ❤️
  11. This first mission for the Artemis has been an absolutely wild ride. This post by @Hiro Jones (from an MSPNPC driven mad by airborn particles and telepathic rage) is truly unique and inspiring. Original: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/p798zgyRgtI/m/CrJfnPeRGAAJ
  12. I thought this one was really well done by @Yalu. Due to an encounter with a telepathic hivemind entity a year or so ago, Yogan and Talos swapped bodies for a few days. As a result, the Yalu symbiont has a snapshot of Talos' consciousness as it was at that time as a "host' of sorts. I really appreciated the call back to a long-running plot thread between the two characters in this scene where Talos is afflicted by an unknown contaminant that's causing the locals and those with extra-sensory abilities to lose control and be driven to destroy anything and everything. ================SIM================ (( Turyon Planet Hopper, Tecra, Da’al )) With the up-and-down escape underway, Yogan overheard Jones enlisting Hallia in his plan to test the stasis field theory. Occasionally, when he was certain they wouldn’t be fired upon, he glanced back over his shoulder to watch what they were doing. If this method worked, they’d need to implement it on a citywide scale, so Yogan tried to at least grasp the underlying scientific principles. Jones: ::consulting his tricorder:: Right, so the frequency we'll need is an oscillation between 34.8 MHz and 22.2 MHz. Is there broadcast transmitter array on this vessel, or will we need to go somewhere else? Dakora: How far away is this place? ::He grimaced.:: I'm doing... I'm doing real bad back here. The interruption was uncharacteristic. Talos wasn’t usually a complainer. The Betazoid’s pained expression masked a roiling emotional state just beneath the surface. Yalu: What can we do for him? MacKenzie: I can’t recommend another dose of Lexorin – he’s already agitated and I think at this point additional drugs might only make it worse… Jones: ::quietly to Yellir:: If he's willing to cooperate and hold still, we can do a short-range test on him. Yellir: Respectfully doctor, I don’t think he’s in a cooperative mood. I’d feel safer if Lieutenant Osuna held him down and we tried the device on him. But that’s not exactly an ethical solution. The thought of restraining Talos struck Yogan unexpectedly hard. He’d heard some of what Talos and MacKenzie went through as Klingon prisoners. It was grim and it was hard to listen to, but it wasn’t personal. This felt different. Yogan had never figured out what to do with the memories of “Talos Yalu” that existed inside his symbiont. Only recently had he started thinking of Talos as more similar to his other hosts than different. His first step toward reconciling the effects of a terrible accident of Cytarian technology had yielded some positive results. But now, as everyone discussed experimenting on Talos and holding him down, Yogan regretted blurring that boundary. He felt like they were talking about him, Yogan, and it was too weird. Yalu: No. Let’s not do that if we can avoid it. Osuna: Lieutenant? Talk us through it – what are you experiencing? Do you have control? Thankfully, Osuna stepped up and got Talos’ attention. But not in a good way. Talos eyed Osuna’s phaser. Dakora: Give it to me. Yogan’s hand shook as his thumb slid over the trigger of his sidearm. Osuna: Sit down, Lieutenant. MacKenzie rose from her seat and addressed Dakora directly. Given their strong professional relationship, and their awkward personal one, MacKenzie had the greatest odds of getting Talos to remain focused. MacKenzie: Lieutenant Dakora, I order you to stand down. Jones: Nearly there… Yellir: I’m improving the power distribution systems so the device doesn’t burn out halfway through using it. Hopefully it doesn’t erupt into sparks when we use it. Osuna: ::To MacKenzie:: Captain, permission to restrain Lieutenant Dakora? MacKenzie: I think that would be wi- Dakora lunged forward and grabbed at Osuna's phaser. Osuna stepped backwards but, given the craft’s small size, there was nowhere else for him to retreat. Dakora's hands closed around Osuna’s wrist. Dakora: It's MINE! MacKenzie: Stand down! Yogan hesitated. He’d never fully given himself permission to process the slush of memories, and this was the consequence. He couldn’t shoot Talos, because it felt too much like shooting a part of himself. Time slowed and Yogan’s vision grew narrow. This wasn’t good. If not dereliction of duty, it was at the very least a “referral to the counselor”-level of unprofessionalism. Osuna butted the side of Talos’ face with his elbow. Yogan winced as if he felt the blow land on his own cheek. Osuna: I said– Dakora: I NEED IT. Using his free hand, Osuna grabbed Talos’ wrist and twisted it backwards to free his phaser. The two stumbled sideways, knocking over a small crate, which clattered to the ground. Everything happened so quickly. Yogan watched numbly as Osuna tussled with Talos. The sound of Yogan’s heartbeat drowned out the sound of smashing crates and bodies being flung over seat backs. Osuna: Last chance, Lieutenant. Sit down. Dakora: Do... It... The blur cleared instantly when the weapons fire charged the air with energy. Yogan felt like he’d just emerged from a bad dream. Talos lay unconscious on the floor of the craft and Osuna immediately checked on him. Osuna: Dammit… ::To Jones:: Make sure he’s alright. Yogan didn’t notice—or maybe he purposely ignored—a tear running from the corner of his eye down his cheek and into his muddy, cakey beard. MacKenzie: Well, I don’t know about all of you, but I’ve had enough excitement for one day. Jones: Took the words from my mouth, sir. Yellir: I’m looking forward to a long sonic shower when we’re back. Erbil: Not much more hopping left. ::to Teolin:: Grandpapa used to fly these old birbs during my conscripted service days. ::beat:: That’s when I met your grandmama. TBC
  13. Not only was this well played out, @N. Aristren aka Trovek's writer won't even take it easy on her own other characters, but the format, the splitting the scene. I love to see creative ways of simming that really do give a feel as if you're reading a script from the show.
  14. ((Chief Security Officer's Office, StarBase 118)) Mason: I don’t know why I brought that up. :: He shifts in his chair.:: I’m taking up too much of your time, Lieutenant. I should maybe go... Aine stood and set her glass down on the desk then reached out to shake Mason's hand. Sherlock: Well, Ensign, I'm available to talk whenever you need. It's no bother. Mason: :: stands up when she did, holding his glass in his left hand, and after shaking her hand with the other hand, he finishes the drink. He does not ask for one for the road but looks at her. :: Thanks for seeing me. I appreciate it. Take care, Sherlock: You too, have a good rest of your evening. She stood for a few moments more as Mason set his glass down on the coaster on the desk, and then made his way out of her office. Mason left her office and stood for a moment two steps outside the door. He had a simple choice to make in the moment. To go left - a more direct route to his quarters, or to go right and walk a bit. All sorts of destinations presented themselves in both directions, including a less direct route to his quarters if he went to the right. He was in no real hurry to go back to his quarters, so he went right. As he walked he compartmentalized his thoughts. Aware of his surroundings, walking, avoided bumping people standing around talking, nodding his head to those he passed who made eye contact and nodded at him, saying ‘hello’ to those who saw him walking by and said hello as they went their way. That was the surface-level thought. Below that level, his guard was up. He was attentive not only to his immediate space but the visible and audible space ahead and behind him and in open areas, all around him. His father had coached him as a child. He didn’t like to explain it and rarely did. But when he had, he explained it as nothing more than having learned techniques to improve his situational awareness. Situational awareness was being aware of one’s surroundings and any potential hazards or threats. That fairly summed it up. It wasn’t a special power, it wasn’t something exciting like being able to read minds or project thoughts. It was a learnable skill; to be observant, to be oriented, and to be decisive in weighing options and realistic in looking for the best possible outcome knowing his capabilities and limitations. And being willing to act using the information obtained through observation, orientation, and decision-making to protect him and get to safety. In familiar locations, when he was alert, awake, and sober, this compartmentalization allowed him to access another level of thought at the same time. Familiar locations did not always mean safe locations. Anyone who grew up in places like the south side of Chicago knew well that familiar locations did not always mean safe and sometimes, rarely meant safe. But walking here through this part of 118, more or less in the direction that would lead him towards several districts, after enjoying a couple of drinks with the Chief of Security this was not one of those times. Here right now, he was maybe 70% surface, 30% guard up, and 0% thinking about the past, present, or future. And that suited him right now. Sometimes thinking about all that crap was overrated. End Scene Mike Ensign Jackie Mason SN 118 OPS Counselor O239911JM3
  15. It's Friday evening and you're a little sad because you've read all your ships sims already? Read THIS. Honestly. It's awesome. Well done! ❤️
  16. I really love this farmer turned resistance fighter character that @Samira Neathler has so wonderfully written. Throughout his journey, with meeting the Marquis, and wrestling with fighting for his home, but feeling very much like a farmer... it really has been subtle, powerful, and incredible to read. ❤️
  17. I promise this time I properly looked through the forums to confirm nobody else had already posted this one! @Talos Dakora, writing from the perspective of a man whose mind is being overthrown by a telepathy-infused rare-mineral-induced rage did a great job capturing the swing and balance between his lingering 'humanity' and the turbulent and uncontrollable desire to destroy growing within him. A fun read! Original Here: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/s3jHzML-vig/m/tWRrSCprFwAJ
  18. There are several reasons why I enjoyed reading this scene between @Lt Aine Olive Sherlock and Ensign Mason. It gave wonderful insights into Sherlock's past and the things she struggles with, then turned around and described what joining Starfleet on a second career path is like for Mason. I also really like how Sherlock integrates the fallout of the last mission, and her obligations as department chief. Well done!
  19. Daaaang, you two, this was gripping... Excellent writing @Vitor S. Silveira and @N. Aristren aka Trovek
  20. There has been a deluge of spectacular simming the last few days aboard the Artemis and, while I could have easily posted an appreciation for any of the sims in this scene, I think that this bit of introspective writing from Ensign @Jovenan is truly spectacular -- and the initiative shown in how her character has responded to this 'crisis' was wonderful to read. You can find the original here: https://groups.google.com/g/sb118-artemis/c/fL_RwJxJzp0/m/G8CFRu3LBAAJ
  21. I have loved to see how our Science Officer @Jovenan has been dealing with this mission. But this bada... This "attitude" really got to me. Very well done. I am loving it.
  22. Another beautifully written sim by Bryce. I really enjoyed how you threaded together Bryce's inner thoughts with the things happening around him (and to him, psychologically) by mentioning other members of the Skarbek, It was done in such a subtle and nuanced way, and I could picture it so clearly and cinematically. I imagined the camera panning slowly away from Bryce and dissolving into other scenes, showing each character as they are mentioned, before going back to him. Amazingly done! ✍️🎥 Bryce "Croaker" Tagren-Quinn - Life, uh, Finds a Way (google.com)
  23. You know a sim is exciting when you verbally go "yes!" while reading it. In this continuation of an interrogation scene with three Skarbek Maquis and a Cardassian Glinn, we watch through Nkai's eyes as things are suddenly switched up, and a new tactic is introduced. As always, being a Rodulan, the way Nkai perceives events is often through his telepathy, and I am constantly amazed and take inspiration from the style in which Quinn writes him. Caedan "Groove" Nkai - Lots of Pain, No Gain (google.com)
  24. (( Egil's quarters - StarBase 118)) Egil had invited Rue over post mission to check in with her. This was the second high stress mission he'd worked alongside with her in a very short span of time. He had been spending more time dancing and work, burning himself down into the ground to deal with his own stress and emotions. His recent collapse on shift prompted him to check in on Rue. Or… try to. Blackwell: Well ::wryly:: I’m not collapsing at work if that is what you mean? I’m going to assume that Sickbay and Doctor Foster gave you some rest orders. Renot: Doctor Zumagi has seen to me. I haven't told Wyn yet. I probably should, before he finds out other ways. Egil grimaced at that thought. Wyn would definitely not be impressed if he found out of Egil's collapse through Zumagi. Blackwell:: I remember my starting days when I could just keep working until I fell over. ::she gave a smile that was without judgement or condescension, but empathy:: I lived for it. And after a mission like that...it’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind. Renot: I need to remember me and my body aren't as young as they used to be. Blackwell: So since you are on a bit of involuntary relaxing - ::she grinned:: did you make plans for something fun? Egil emitted a small snort, shaking his head. He definitely noticed Rue deflecting the topic back onto him. He had a plan… Renot: If you call dance practice and plant shopping fun, sure. Oh and gardening. Blackwell: ? He leaned forward and snagged the pot of the little bonsai with the tips of his fingers and dragged it closer. Renot: I can't neglect this little guy. He studied the tree. Maybe he should give some seeds from it to Alora. He was sure she would like some Al-Leyan plants. Blackwell: ? Renot: It's a little bonsai that's from a tree from my native planet. Trees are an integral part of our culture. Still not entirely sure why to be honest. Blackwell: ? Renot: The limbs of the tree are what people see on the outside of us; who we hang out with, our jobs, who we present to the world. The tree is only as strong and stable as its roots. And then, a catastrophic windstorm or the constant eroding trickle of water weaken the soil and roots and knock it down. Egil slid his fingers in the soil around the edge of the pot, lifting the little tree out to show the roots. They had seen better days. They were horribly cramped and tangled, a big mass of roots Blackwell: ? Renot: And our roots are our grounding forces that keep us… well… rooted. Loved ones, connections, mental health and so on. If we neglect our roots, our tree will fall over. These roots are overwhelmingly cramped. The tree is stressed. I need to thin them out and move it to a bigger pot. Egil gave Rue a very pointed look, slipping the bonsai gently back in the pot. Renot: So… how are your roots holding up? Egil dusted his hands off and picked up his tea, sipping it as he observed Rue with a concerned and caring expression. Blackwell: ? Tags/TBC Lt. JG Egil Renot Engineering Officer StarBase 118 Ops O239905ER3
  25. Another great shore leave sim on Denali Station, courtesy of @John Kendrick 👏🏻 ((Bridge, Deck 1, USS EAGLE)) Falt: Helm, lay in a course for home. The ship's red alert status cast a crimson glow across John's face as he stared up at the viewscreen, where the remnants of the Reaver ship drifted silently in space. His breathing grew more rapid and the rhythm of his heart throbbed in his ears. Tomas's voice sounded distant, like an echo from a different world. Kendrick: Home. The word seemed to leave his mouth in slow motion, as if time had slowed down around him. Raimor: =/\= Commander Dekas suffered a breakage in his left wing. Please advise the Eagle’s medical staff- =/\= Suddenly, Dekas appeared in front of his tactical station, cradling his left wing in his hands. As he opened his beak to speak, John was surprised to hear Katrina's voice coming from the Aurelian’s officer's beak, instead of Dekas's. Dekas/Pelley: Look what you did to me, John. Startled by the sudden appearance of his friend, John stumbled backwards. Instead of landing on the console behind him, he fell to the ground and found himself staring up at a blood-red sky, with asteroids piercing through the atmosphere. As he got back up on his feet and looked around, he realized he was standing in the heart of the Administrative Area of the City - or at least what remained of it. The devastating bombardment of asteroids had left the vast majority of the area in ruins. Only one building still stood, Soldotna, but even it was slowly crumbling away. Pelley: You never liked it here anyway. I guess you’re happy now. He turned around and faced a heart-wrenching scene: Katrina was encompassed by flames, and behind her stood the charred bodies of Dekas, Falt, and T’Lea. He reached out his hands to pull Katrina from the flames, but she started laughing frantically as the bodies of Dekas, Falt, and T’Lea turned to ashes before his eyes. Kendrick: ::shouting:: No!!!! ((Pelley’s Quarters, level 21, Anchorage)) John's eyes snapped open as he found himself staring at the ceiling, with a hand resting on his sweat-covered chest. His heart was pounding so hard, it felt like it wanted to jump straight out of his body. Kendrick: ::slightly disorientated:: What happened? Where am I? Pelley: It’s okay, baby. It was just a bad dream. He looked to his side and smiled as he recognized the contours of Katrina’s face in the dark, her features illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights outside. He felt his pulse slowly returning to normal and reached out to place his hand on hers, comforted by her presence. Pelley: Was it the same dream as last night? John closed his eyes again and placed the back of his hand on his forehead. Kendrick: Yeah. He felt her fingers gently drawing circles on his chest. Pelley: Maybe you should talk to Counsellor Yael? He opened his eyes again. Kendrick: Talking to a Counsellor won’t keep this Station safe from an asteroid rain. He threw off the sheets, rolled to his side, and swung his legs over the edge and stepped out of bed. Pelley: Maybe not, but it's clear that the attack on the Station is weighing heavily on you. Speaking to a counsellor might help you put things into perspective. He walked over to the window, leaned with his arm against the glass, and rested his forehead on his arm as he gazed across the City. Kendrick: Everything looks so small from up here. So ::pauses:: vulnerable. He observed workbees still flying criss-cross across the City, despite that it was already after midnight. The repairs continued around the clock, 26 hours a day. Kendrick: I was trained to protect a starship. How the hell am I supposed to protect an entire City? Katrina stepped out of bed and walked towards him. Pelley: Don’t be so hard on yourself. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against him. Pelley: You’ll figure it out. ::gently giving him a kiss in the neck:: Just like you always do. John continued to stare into the distance, longing to be anywhere but here right now. END === Lieutenant Commander John Kendrick Chief Security and Tactical DENALI STATION J239801JK3
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