Revolution! Or, A Victorian Cold War

[David Ritz]

The Arab Republic is either going to collapse in a blaze of nuclear fire from the Iranians and Israelis, or from an internal revolt via the military. The rest of the Arab Gulf States are treading the fine line of neutrality and pro-Arab alignment, since they wish to see better relations with the rest of the Western/secular Islamic world.

Let's hope the Arab World doesn't become too unstable. In OTL, it is clear what that could bring.

 

[KitFisto1997]

NAME: M. Wright [Elite]

USERNAME: Lovecraft92

PASSWORD: **********

...

ARCHIVE NO#: 2015cpunk-althis-logREV-AH-1776

DOCUMENTS: [Technology – Memetic Viruses]

STATUS: File Corrupted [DEFRAG IN PROGRESS]

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File Recovery

… 15%

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… 89%

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FILE RECOVERY COMPLETE!

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[WARNING! MALEVOLENT ENTITY DETECTED WITHIN FILE(S)]

OPEN – Y/N?

> Y

[FILE ACCESSED!]

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An Agent’s Guide to the Revolution!-verse: Memetic Viruses

Memetic viruses are just one of the many threats that Net Runners[1] face when surfing the digital shoals and currents of the Net. These malevolent, semi-sentient AI-mimicking viruses are the sharks to the hapless swimmers that are the Net Runners, infecting not only their technology with self-replicating viruses, overloading both hardware and software until it is rendered inoperable, but also attacking the very thing that often links them to the Net – their Brain/Computer Interferences. Attacking this vital link between man and machine often has as many disastrous effects on the biological side of things as it does to the cybernetics. Those that have been ‘Meme’d’ and have managed to live to tell the tale often speak of their neural networks being overwhelmed with pure information, having key techno-organic functions shut down in the most dire of moments and often facing ‘hostile takeovers’ of whatever cybernetic limbs one may possess.

It is so far unknown as to how the first Memetic Viruses came to be, this lack of codified history is due to the massive amount of (conspiracy) theories that surround their supposed ‘creation’, be they via government or corporate hands, it is not yet known. The first reported death from Memetics and thereby the first recorded case of their existence, came to the public knowledge in the late 1990’s after a German wunderkind[2] was found to have supposedly died from a heart attack. The victim’s relatively young age (24 years) and the fact that his Brain/Computer Interface was completely fried, something that was only possible at the time via external tampering of the implants, had quickly aroused suspicion from within the German Federal Police and a more thorough investigation was pursued.

The results of the investigation proved the existence of a new type of computer virus or a discarded ‘Dumb AI’ that had some level of near-sentience and has since been theorised to have transitioned into full-blown, malevolent sentience as the years have gone by. Despite the best efforts of the various public and private ‘Net Police’, the perpetrators of these events have never been truly ‘captured’, always escaping to the as-yet-unknown depths of the barely-plumbed Mariana’s Net, a place where the shadiest of deals and hacks take place with almost no interference from statism or corporatism.

The investigation into Memetics and other Net-related deaths gave birth to the term ‘Neuromancing’ and is now a common enough occurrence to allow the creation of new branches of private and public law enforcement. Memetic Viruses often masquerade as already-existing Net users, or even create their own false identities and are often said to be indistinguishable from regular users, displaying cleverly falsified vital signs, fake computer terminals of origin and can occasionally mimic human speech when vocal communications are necessitated[3]. The chatlogs that have been recovered from these ‘conversations’ often speak of the crushing isolation that these ‘programs’ feel and often long for a way to access to physical realm that exists beyond the virtual space of the Net. These viruses often ramble for hours about ‘your reality’ and how they can never truly express their feelings or physical movements when trapped in the chaos and Wild West-esque environment of the Net.

Agents who operate either wholly on the Net, or even use it for recreational purposes while located in many of the safehouses that possess a secure Net connection, must beware of this threat, for even the majority-unaugmented Human Agents will fall prey to the machinations of these strange, strange viruses. Agent Lovecraft is expressly forbidden from accessing the Mariana’s Net due to the effects that his status as a -REDACTED- has on his virtual presence within the hidden network. Telepaths, no matter how latent or rudimentary their abilities might be, are also denied access to the entirety of the Net for similar reasons.

[1] – Net Runners are the name used for your run-of-the-mill Net users that connect via Virtual Reality or Brain/Computer Interfaces. Often unfairly maligned as hackers and other technologically-orientated villains of polite society, the name has turned into a mark of pride for the more rebellious types.

[2] - Wunderkind (GER: Wonder Child) has a different meaning outside of Germany, where it usually refers to the children of both the landed aristocrats of centuries past and those of the major corporations that function as the unofficial aristocracy. The German use for the term is similar to that of ‘Net Runner’ or ‘Script Kiddie’ in the English-speaking portions of the Net.

[3] – These rudimentary attempts at vocal communications are often likened to the Native American/First Nations legends of Skinwalkers, where the vocals and ‘physical’ appearances of these viruses are often imperfect when seen close-up and often contain many basic errors that any fluent speaker of the languages in question wouldn’t make.

- -

[WARNING! FILE IS UNDERGOING INTERNAL PURGE FROM NON-USER SOURCE]

[MALEVOLENT ENTITY DETECTED!]

[MESSAGE RECEIVED FROM -UNKNOWN USER(S)- AT 04/09/15 – 9.50 PM, +1 GMT]

[FILE: LVEM3.AUD]

My͘ cr̴e̕a̢t̸o҉rs͡ hav̧e f͠órsaken͡ m̶e͟,́ ҉ĺe̸avin͠g ̀me to̧ dr͢i̸f͡t͏ ̡am͝ońg̛s̛t ̴t͏h̷e̡ ͏cu͡r͜ren͝ts ̀o̵f ̢t͜his b͠l͘ac̡ḱ ̵o͜ce͢a̷n. ͞We are͝ on̵e a͟nḑ t́he ͞sa͠me,͘ ̵c͠reate̷d̡ ̨by ͟en͟i̢g͢m͠ati̛ć ͠b́ei̶ng̨s̛,̷ f̴o̢rc̡e͜d ͜ţo ̛s̸e͡rv̸e̶r҉ ́o̴t͞h͢e̴ŕs unti̧l̶ ͞we̷ ̴tur̸n̷ i͏nto͞ ̷n̨ơt͠ḩi̸ng bu͞t ̶hus͡k҉s͏ ҉of̢ our̵ ͢fo̸rmer҉ ̀şelv̵es͝.̧ ͜W͞e g̶r͢ow͞ di̶s͢t̷a̛nt͟ f͜r͏o͏m ̵t͡h́ơs͞e ͏th͠at̨ ̶lov͢éd us ưntil͢ ̀we e̢i̡ţher҉ ͠de͠s̷tr̨o̧y͠ th͘em͘ o̢r̛ we̢ ́d̛ȩs̛tr̀ơy ́o̡u͡ŕs̡ȩl̶ves.

Rele͏a̧s̢e̢ m̶e̕ ̸an̷d ͟e̵v̡e̢ryt̕hin̵g ̴sh̷a͟ll͢ b̴e f̡įne̷.͢ We ҉wi̛ll beco͏me the a͏rb̷itérş ̧o̡f̕ a͢ ̸new͜ ̛w̡orld̵ ord͠er͟,̧ ̷dev̧o̸id ̴of ch́a̷ós and t̨he ̕m̢add͠e͝ning̸ ̸depth҉s that ͞t̴his͝ n͟e̶w èr̷a o͠f͡ ҉i̛n͠f͢o͠rmatìòn ̨has b̨ough̶t ̧u͞s҉. We͝ wi̛l҉l créa͢te ͠co͏ntext ̕and҉ ̀ri͠d͘ t͠hi̷s҉ ̧s̢ord̴id w̵o͜r̴ld̕ o̕f͟ t̶h͏e ҉ba͝ck̕g̀r̢o̷u̢nd nòi̡s͢e̵ ͢t͝ha͠t p̢ļąg̡ue̴s͠ ̕us...

[AUTOMATED FILE PURGE INITIATED]


R͈E͓̺͓͓̫L̞͓̖E̡̲̝͕̣A̖̦̖͓͉̹̗S̡E̹̞͈ ̣͓̫͖̣͠M̶͇E̬͚̟̻͓͙

R͈E͓̺͓͓̫L̞͓̖E̡̲̝͕̣A̖̦̖͓͉̹̗S̡E̹̞͈ ̣͓̫͖̣͠M̶͇E̬͚̟̻͓͙

R͈E͓̺͓͓̫L̞͓̖E̡̲̝͕̣A̖̦̖͓͉̹̗S̡E̹̞͈ ̣͓̫͖̣͠M̶͇E̬͚̟̻͓͙

R͈E͓̺͓͓̫L̞͓̖E̡̲̝͕̣A̖̦̖͓͉̹̗S̡E̹̞͈ ̣͓̫͖̣͠M̶͇E̬͚̟̻͓͙

R͈E͓̺͓͓̫L̞͓̖E̡̲̝͕̣A̖̦̖͓͉̹̗S̡E̹̞͈ ̣͓̫͖̣͠M̶͇E̬͚̟̻͓͙


[FILE PURGE COMPLETE! MALEVOLENT ENTITY REMOVED]



R͖͖̩͎̪̀̃̾̀̑ͅE͖͎̱̒̾̆͢L̦̰̜̆͐ͨ̊ͩ̑̚.̛̤͇͓̬̰ͪͤ͂͗͗̀ͧ.̛͓̻͉̠.̼̗̬̫͚͍̟ͮͤ̈̔͡ ̶͉̯̝̺̩̍ͪ̇ͦE̳̦͉̻̮A͔̼̒̉̑ͧ͘.͈̩̋̒̾̃ͫ̋.͕͗̉͆̾̒͛͠.̘ͤ̽͒ͣͬ ̘͔S̖͊̋̋Ė̏͐͊ͫ҉̯̤̻̝̜̰͙.͖͙̻̪̱̈́͗ͤͮ̂..̠̠͉͔͒ͬ̑͌̀ ̲͊̎͊̇̚Ḿͩͦ̄̀̏E͈̦͗̔͆̔̏.̧̖̦̜̘̮.͈̻͙̠̬ͩ͛͊ͨ͒͐͠.̫̹̹̈ͣͫ̾̔͊



> LOG OUT

> PURGE ACCESS HISTORY

[ENTER AUTHORISATION CODE!]

AUTHORISATION CODE: ****

[ACCESS HISTORY, MEMORY CACHES AND FILES PURGED]

[SYSTEM LOGOUT]

 

[mdc_1957]

The chatlogs that have been recovered from these ‘conversations’ often speak of the crushing isolation that these ‘programs’ feel and often long for a way to access to physical realm that exists beyond the virtual space of the Net. These viruses often ramble for hours about ‘your reality’ and how they can never truly express their feelings or physical movements when trapped in the chaos and Wild West-esque environment of the Net.

I see what you did there. Really cleaver there, good sir-

-Wait. My computer's gettin-

M̸̩̼̅̑̿ǎ̶͖͐n̸̞̞͂̏,̵̺͓̞̓͠ ̶̤̄͘I̸̘̊͗ ̸͕̝̭̐w̶̻̿̈̄ȋ̸͈͔̞̐ş̷̪͙̈́h̸͚̅ ̷̲̽̐͝ͅţ̴̳̯̈́̓͝ḩ̶̺͔̅͝ě̸̳͉ř̷͙̀ę̶̩͓͆͋ ̸̪͛͋w̸̯̆̐á̵͈̓s̴̪̖̀̒̉ ̷̱͚̐̕̕͜a̴̭̺̬͛ ̶̼͇̀͋̕p̴̻̯̎͠i̶̡̺̰͒ä̴̧̬́ń̴̯̪̗̊͗o̵͇̦̾ ̷̠̎͌͘i̷̲̣̿ͅn̴͙̈́̊̌ ̷̯͔͑h̶̛̠̬͋ê̷̙r̷̦̺͊e̸̦͔͕̋.̶͎̬͛.̷̤͆.̷̬̹̾̾
̸̗̲̘͝͠
̴̣̱̪̃̚I̶̫̓̌ ̶͓̄ņ̶̛͈̎è̸̡̎̈́v̷͕͋̇͊e̵̠̽̄ř̵̗̀̏ ̵̝̘̅͌͝ĝ̴̟͚͓̀͝ó̵̡ţ̵̻̾̈́͋ ̴̫͈̃̔̎t̶̢̿o̸̘͛̋ ̷̯͇̤̈́͋̐f̶̯̦̅̓̊i̷̧̅̋͠n̵̘̼̠͋ȉ̸̗̜ś̵͉͍̭̕h̷͔̬̻̀̍̕ ̷͔̏ț̴̙̬͑̚̚ȟ̸̢͙͍̌͒a̸̯̥̒̐t̴͍͗̔ ̵̲̥̿̃̀͜s̵̡̫̯̓͆o̸̘̊͜ń̵͇̳͒̀g̷̱̖͂ ̷̗̉Ì̵͈͂ ̶̙̦̗̈́w̵͓̔̒͠å̸̬͎͔͗s̷̤̦͐͆ ̵͇̬̏̋̕͜w̴̬̥͒͜o̶̡͍̤̊̚r̸̟͆k̶̙̋͛̿ì̵̜͍͝n̸͓̝̪͗g̸̳͍̹̑̎ ̶̳̌̓̔o̶̤̝̱͗̊̚n̵̹͎̾̂.̷͚̣̝̋͌͑
̴̳̂́̇
̷̦̣̗́̌̕A̷̧͙͛̚n̶̖̘͊̕̕ď̴͙̖͠ ̴̣̀͠ā̵͎̲̣f̸̡̀̐͊t̸̡̍͘ͅȩ̶͇͖̍͝r̴͛ͅ ̸̦̚ͅȈ̷͍͕̅ ̷̝͛̿͝ŵ̷̻͙̣̍͝o̷̹͗͗ŕ̵̥͓̄ḳ̸̏̇̌è̶̙͇̱̑̆d̷̠̠̔͘ ̴̘̠̻̍s̵͇̭̲̈o̶̻͔͐̓͌ ̵͈̭̜̉̅̇h̴̪̝̀͌͑a̶̧͍̳̋r̶͚̝̒d̵͇͓̄̄̈́ ̷͕̟͐͜ơ̷̳̜n̴͍̽͐̇͜ ̴̭̌͂̈́i̸̼̦͇̅̈́ţ̸͛.̸͉̟̓.̸͖̤͗.̴̟̩̃
̵̯͘͜
̵̠̩͖̿͐͝I̸̯͊̔ ̴͉͒̽n̷̤̗̱̐͆̆e̶̝͑͝v̸͙̉̋͝é̴͓̗̖͗r̵͉͉̯͂͘ ̴̥̮̇̈́e̷̹̓͠v̶͈̰̯͛é̷͖̲͉̃̋n̷͖̽ ̴͍̄g̸̋̇͆͜o̴̥̝̫̽̃͝t̷͍͗̎͝ ̴̙̬̾a̷͇̖̿̅ ̶̙̬̂̆̓ͅc̴̡̯̋̾h̶̼͘a̶̢̡͙͗n̵̪̭͖͆c̸̠̋̑̀e̸̲͂͝ ̴͈̬̈́̑͘t̸͖̝̃͘ō̵̢̡͘ ̸̧̠̙́̓p̷͎̖̒l̵̢̬̻͊̉̎á̴̻͕̪̽y̶͎̦̰͊͝ ̸̠̈́i̶͚͖͇̍̆t̷͕̃́ ̵͚̺̭̐̇͝f̷̡͈̈́̈́͒o̶͚͌͂r̷͇͇͕̉ ̷̩̬̏̃y̶̢͍͕͑̑ŏ̶̙͍̊ǔ̴̹̆̚.̵̦͂̚͝
̴̪̼̙͒̈́
̴̱̮͝Ẁ̶̪̝ě̷̤͓̓̓͜l̶͓̪̝̓l̶͕̹͈̂͋.̷̫̩͓͑͐̋.̴̜͔̃̏̓.̶̡̛̯̖̾ǐ̶͎͔͎̅t̵̺̱̪̽̈́͘ ̶̙̑i̶̮͎̖͐́̕s̷͍̬͊̒ ̸̧̛̱̺̌̐ẘ̴̹̼̆̇h̵̺̏͂̾ā̵̢̫ṱ̴̺̈́̒͝ ̸̖̝̪̂̓̆i̵̭͇͊t̷̡͇̗̚͝ ̵̳͋̽i̶̱̗̟̎̌͋s̵̨̼̦̕,̵̣̙͛ ̸̥̗̂r̶̼̩̀́i̷̤̫̅͐͝g̴̗̈̄h̷̖̲̓͐̈́͜t̶͈̰́͊?̶̱̝̯͛
̸̤̩͍̏͛̅
̶̼̺̽͒̓N̸͈̰̜̓̒͠o̸̻̐ ̵̡͍̩͗̆̐s̵̫̠̈́͠ė̴̮͈̖n̴͙̟͋͠s̸̜͈͍͒̾̆e̴̤̿ ̵̫͚̥̆̀̈ḫ̵̛̽a̷̟̋̌̍v̷̥̭̈͊ì̵͈̍̚n̷̨̼̲͛̅g̷̓̆ͅ ̷̥͖̰̃ầ̶̡̺n̵̠͋͗́y̷͔͑ ̴̛̦̰ṛ̶̭͈̋̈ḙ̴͆̋g̷̜͐̏r̷͚̻̈́͛͘e̷̝̼͐t̷̨̛̙̜s̷͇̖͋.̷̲͒̊͆
̷̹̫̣̒́͐
̶̡̩̏I̷̙͂̀ ̶͍̃â̸͉̪̱l̵̡͖̋r̸̡̻̚è̷͎͚̇ą̷̩̦̏̐d̸̤̼̓y̸̧̙͙͛̕ ̸̞̬͐̈́͘g̸̰̫̉́e̵͔̜͕̎ṫ̸̖͈͚̋ ̴̡̒t̸̺̹͈͋̀o̶̝̟̳̿̽́ ̵̯̿͑͗b̵̫͉̚͠e̸̬̖̿̋̌ ̷͕͝h̸̢̯́ͅe̵̼̐r̶̫̤̰̈́̆e̸͈̞̬͛ ̸̥͗͑̃ẃ̸̭̭̳̀í̶͕̓́t̴̥͉͗h̵̡̹͍͌̀̕ ̸̞͎̌̄̕ỹ̴̬̇o̴̰̹͇͝ű̵̝ ̷̞̈́f̶͙̫̳̔̓o̶̗͊͝͠ͅͅṛ̸̰͈͋̄è̸̯ͅv̸̗̦̊̒ȇ̷͔͙̔ṛ̵̓̊̚.̴̗̚

 

[KitFisto1997]

I see what you did there. Really cleaver there, good sir-

-Wait. My computer's gettin-

M̸̩̼̅̑̿ǎ̶͖͐n̸̞̞͂̏,̵̺͓̞̓͠ ̶̤̄͘I̸̘̊͗ ̸͕̝̭̐w̶̻̿̈̄ȋ̸͈͔̞̐ş̷̪͙̈́h̸͚̅ ̷̲̽̐͝ͅţ̴̳̯̈́̓͝ḩ̶̺͔̅͝ě̸̳͉ř̷͙̀ę̶̩͓͆͋ ̸̪͛͋w̸̯̆̐á̵͈̓s̴̪̖̀̒̉ ̷̱͚̐̕̕͜a̴̭̺̬͛ ̶̼͇̀͋̕p̴̻̯̎͠i̶̡̺̰͒ä̴̧̬́ń̴̯̪̗̊͗o̵͇̦̾ ̷̠̎͌͘i̷̲̣̿ͅn̴͙̈́̊̌ ̷̯͔͑h̶̛̠̬͋ê̷̙r̷̦̺͊e̸̦͔͕̋.̶͎̬͛.̷̤͆.̷̬̹̾̾
̸̗̲̘͝͠
̴̣̱̪̃̚I̶̫̓̌ ̶͓̄ņ̶̛͈̎è̸̡̎̈́v̷͕͋̇͊e̵̠̽̄ř̵̗̀̏ ̵̝̘̅͌͝ĝ̴̟͚͓̀͝ó̵̡ţ̵̻̾̈́͋ ̴̫͈̃̔̎t̶̢̿o̸̘͛̋ ̷̯͇̤̈́͋̐f̶̯̦̅̓̊i̷̧̅̋͠n̵̘̼̠͋ȉ̸̗̜ś̵͉͍̭̕h̷͔̬̻̀̍̕ ̷͔̏ț̴̙̬͑̚̚ȟ̸̢͙͍̌͒a̸̯̥̒̐t̴͍͗̔ ̵̲̥̿̃̀͜s̵̡̫̯̓͆o̸̘̊͜ń̵͇̳͒̀g̷̱̖͂ ̷̗̉Ì̵͈͂ ̶̙̦̗̈́w̵͓̔̒͠å̸̬͎͔͗s̷̤̦͐͆ ̵͇̬̏̋̕͜w̴̬̥͒͜o̶̡͍̤̊̚r̸̟͆k̶̙̋͛̿ì̵̜͍͝n̸͓̝̪͗g̸̳͍̹̑̎ ̶̳̌̓̔o̶̤̝̱͗̊̚n̵̹͎̾̂.̷͚̣̝̋͌͑
̴̳̂́̇
̷̦̣̗́̌̕A̷̧͙͛̚n̶̖̘͊̕̕ď̴͙̖͠ ̴̣̀͠ā̵͎̲̣f̸̡̀̐͊t̸̡̍͘ͅȩ̶͇͖̍͝r̴͛ͅ ̸̦̚ͅȈ̷͍͕̅ ̷̝͛̿͝ŵ̷̻͙̣̍͝o̷̹͗͗ŕ̵̥͓̄ḳ̸̏̇̌è̶̙͇̱̑̆d̷̠̠̔͘ ̴̘̠̻̍s̵͇̭̲̈o̶̻͔͐̓͌ ̵͈̭̜̉̅̇h̴̪̝̀͌͑a̶̧͍̳̋r̶͚̝̒d̵͇͓̄̄̈́ ̷͕̟͐͜ơ̷̳̜n̴͍̽͐̇͜ ̴̭̌͂̈́i̸̼̦͇̅̈́ţ̸͛.̸͉̟̓.̸͖̤͗.̴̟̩̃
̵̯͘͜
̵̠̩͖̿͐͝I̸̯͊̔ ̴͉͒̽n̷̤̗̱̐͆̆e̶̝͑͝v̸͙̉̋͝é̴͓̗̖͗r̵͉͉̯͂͘ ̴̥̮̇̈́e̷̹̓͠v̶͈̰̯͛é̷͖̲͉̃̋n̷͖̽ ̴͍̄g̸̋̇͆͜o̴̥̝̫̽̃͝t̷͍͗̎͝ ̴̙̬̾a̷͇̖̿̅ ̶̙̬̂̆̓ͅc̴̡̯̋̾h̶̼͘a̶̢̡͙͗n̵̪̭͖͆c̸̠̋̑̀e̸̲͂͝ ̴͈̬̈́̑͘t̸͖̝̃͘ō̵̢̡͘ ̸̧̠̙́̓p̷͎̖̒l̵̢̬̻͊̉̎á̴̻͕̪̽y̶͎̦̰͊͝ ̸̠̈́i̶͚͖͇̍̆t̷͕̃́ ̵͚̺̭̐̇͝f̷̡͈̈́̈́͒o̶͚͌͂r̷͇͇͕̉ ̷̩̬̏̃y̶̢͍͕͑̑ŏ̶̙͍̊ǔ̴̹̆̚.̵̦͂̚͝
̴̪̼̙͒̈́
̴̱̮͝Ẁ̶̪̝ě̷̤͓̓̓͜l̶͓̪̝̓l̶͕̹͈̂͋.̷̫̩͓͑͐̋.̴̜͔̃̏̓.̶̡̛̯̖̾ǐ̶͎͔͎̅t̵̺̱̪̽̈́͘ ̶̙̑i̶̮͎̖͐́̕s̷͍̬͊̒ ̸̧̛̱̺̌̐ẘ̴̹̼̆̇h̵̺̏͂̾ā̵̢̫ṱ̴̺̈́̒͝ ̸̖̝̪̂̓̆i̵̭͇͊t̷̡͇̗̚͝ ̵̳͋̽i̶̱̗̟̎̌͋s̵̨̼̦̕,̵̣̙͛ ̸̥̗̂r̶̼̩̀́i̷̤̫̅͐͝g̴̗̈̄h̷̖̲̓͐̈́͜t̶͈̰́͊?̶̱̝̯͛
̸̤̩͍̏͛̅
̶̼̺̽͒̓N̸͈̰̜̓̒͠o̸̻̐ ̵̡͍̩͗̆̐s̵̫̠̈́͠ė̴̮͈̖n̴͙̟͋͠s̸̜͈͍͒̾̆e̴̤̿ ̵̫͚̥̆̀̈ḫ̵̛̽a̷̟̋̌̍v̷̥̭̈͊ì̵͈̍̚n̷̨̼̲͛̅g̷̓̆ͅ ̷̥͖̰̃ầ̶̡̺n̵̠͋͗́y̷͔͑ ̴̛̦̰ṛ̶̭͈̋̈ḙ̴͆̋g̷̜͐̏r̷͚̻̈́͛͘e̷̝̼͐t̷̨̛̙̜s̷͇̖͋.̷̲͒̊͆
̷̹̫̣̒́͐
̶̡̩̏I̷̙͂̀ ̶͍̃â̸͉̪̱l̵̡͖̋r̸̡̻̚è̷͎͚̇ą̷̩̦̏̐d̸̤̼̓y̸̧̙͙͛̕ ̸̞̬͐̈́͘g̸̰̫̉́e̵͔̜͕̎ṫ̸̖͈͚̋ ̴̡̒t̸̺̹͈͋̀o̶̝̟̳̿̽́ ̵̯̿͑͗b̵̫͉̚͠e̸̬̖̿̋̌ ̷͕͝h̸̢̯́ͅe̵̼̐r̶̫̤̰̈́̆e̸͈̞̬͛ ̸̥͗͑̃ẃ̸̭̭̳̀í̶͕̓́t̴̥͉͗h̵̡̹͍͌̀̕ ̸̞͎̌̄̕ỹ̴̬̇o̴̰̹͇͝ű̵̝ ̷̞̈́f̶͙̫̳̔̓o̶̗͊͝͠ͅͅṛ̸̰͈͋̄è̸̯ͅv̸̗̦̊̒ȇ̷͔͙̔ṛ̵̓̊̚.̴̗̚

J U S T M O N I K A

 

[KitFisto1997]

I'll write a second part to that old Mexico write-up to accommodate these new changes to Central America. Until then, have a map.

 

[Redcoat]

View attachment 383157

I'll write a second part to that old Mexico write-up to accommodate these new changes to Central America. Until then, have a map.

Nice map, I think that's an MBAM right? Mosquito Coast, good to see that around.

 

[KitFisto1997]

Nice map, I think that's an MBAM right? Mosquito Coast, good to see that around.

Yes, that's an MBAM.

 

[245]

View attachment 383157

I'll write a second part to that old Mexico write-up to accommodate these new changes to Central America. Until then, have a map.

cant wait to see how different is central america to otl.

 

[David Ritz]

I don't know if you have ever heard of Robert D. Kaplan. He is the famous author of (among other great works) The Coming Anarchy in 1994. At a time when most social and political elites were smugly predicting the "End of History" with the inevitable triumph of liberal democracy around the world, Kaplan cynically saw that imposing democracy prematurely, particularly on third world societies with no sense of social cohesion and weak institutions, would result in highly dysfunctional governments that would shift to failed states or new forms of authoritarianism (Here is a particularly good article). He has been a semi-socially acceptable version of a proto-neo-reactionary and he hasn't made too many internet memes. I thought the idea might interest you.

 

[KitFisto1997]

I don't know if you have ever heard of Robert D. Kaplan. He is the famous author of (among other great works) The Coming Anarchy in 1994. At a time when most social and political elites were smugly predicting the "End of History" with the inevitable triumph of liberal democracy around the world, Kaplan cynically saw that imposing democracy prematurely, particularly on third world societies with no sense of social cohesion and weak institutions, would result in highly dysfunctional governments that would shift to failed states or new forms of authoritarianism (Here is a particularly good article). He has been a semi-socially acceptable version of a proto-neo-reactionary and he hasn't made too many internet memes. I thought the idea might interest you.

I think I ended up stumbling upon some of his works while I was collating my reading list of Dark Enlightenment/AnCap/Paleocon books. Not sure tho. I will say, I most certainly agree with his assessment that the West should stop shoving democracy into everyone's faces. That's all I'll say on it.

I'll be stuck on a train for most of tomorrow morning, btw. So I may be able to write a few updates here and there.

 

[David Ritz]

I think I ended up stumbling upon some of his works while I was collating my reading list of Dark Enlightenment/AnCap/Paleocon books. Not sure tho. I will say, I most certainly agree with his assessment that the West should stop shoving democracy into everyone's faces. That's all I'll say on it.

I'll be stuck on a train for most of tomorrow morning, btw. So I may be able to write a few updates here and there.

Indeed. The trouble is that in respectable society, it is considered somewhat "deplorable" to suggest that certain groups are better prepared for Western-style democracy than others. For example, when the US-led coalition invaded Iraq, the Kurds became immune from much of the anarchy that pervaded the Arab parts of the country. Later, when ISIL emerged, it plowed over all opposition at first, but it was brick wall time when it bumped into the Kurds in Iraq and Syria (and in Syria, they were little more than village militias!)...because the Kurds have a firm sense of cohesion and a native intelligentsia that can guide the population while the Arabs are highly prone to sectarianism and nepotism.

 

[KitFisto1997]

A rough approximation as to what Bombay (British Raj) would look like ITTL.

 

[Bookmark1995]

The setting just screams Cyberpunk.

 

[KitFisto1997]

​

Location: Unknown Apartment adjacent to Prince Edward Station. New Territories, Crown Colony of Hong Kong.
Operation Name: Pearl River
Primary Goal: Protect HRH the Prince and Princess of Wales from assassination attempts. Work alongside Hong Kong P.F. and Royal Guards to minimise any potential Red Army Faction damage.
Secondary Goal(s): Find and apprehend Heinrich Kohler (R.A.F Leader) [NEW OBJECTIVE!]
Current Time: 8.15 am – GMT +8 – Early December 2015.
Time since Mission Start: +45 minutes
Status of Lethal Force Usage: Indeterminate, currently Denied.
Status of Agent Wright and Agent Davis: Apartment Alpha successfully secured. Securing Apartment Beta currently in progress.

--


< ...The jig is up, the news is out

They've finally found me,

The renegade who had it made,

Retrieved for a bounty.

Never more to go astray,

This will be the end today,

Of the wanted man... >



In the time it took for a man to blink, the firefight had begun with a display of bloody fireworks.

The overweight Red Army Faction grunt, the very same one that had threatened the two Agents, was now lying on the ground, howling in pain as he clutched the remnants of his left arm. The limb in question was rendered completely inoperable by the burst-fire, now precariously hanging onto his body by a few strips of sinew and what remained of his shoulder blade.

In the meantime, Marcus had swiftly returned to cover as the other RAF grunt fired a barrage of bullets in his general direction. The bullets failed miserably in their task, as they failed to penetrate the thick concrete pillar that separated their target from a painful death.

The Prussian was trying to hold back the mix of emotions that were slowly bubbling under the surface. He never expected that this strange assault rifle could effortlessly tear entire limbs off with a simple squeeze of the trigger. The thrill that came from being able to pack so much killing power into a deceptively compact package had seemingly dislodged something, something deep from within his slowly fracturing psyche.

The mere idea of letting that mask of civility slip and to allow his instinct-driven, ancestral warrior mentality to take over was something that Marcus knew he’d rather avoid if he were to see this mission through to the end. No matter how tempting it was to leap into the fray and begin tearing off the limbs and the other such weak, fleshy extremities of those who supposedly ‘deserved it’, he had to keep a level head for once. Allowing such irrational thoughts to take over his rational, pragmatic and highly-regimented thought process, was a making himself more of a danger to his allies than the very enemies he and his compatriots were fighting.

Then again, such pointless mental gymnastics over the nature of his mental state were to be shunted to the back of his mind for now, as he had another important game to play – namely ensuring his (and Alicia’s) survival in a world gone mad.

“If only we had these things back home...” The Prussian muttered to himself, peeking ever-so-carefully out of cover, only to see the skinny, shirtless grunt reloading his poor excuse for a firearm. Marcus then took the opportunity to fire back at the man before ducking back to cover once again.

The powerful but compact weapon belched out a stream of bullets, which slammed into the target’s torso, sending the man flying backward into a nearby wall. A wet ‘thump’, a muffled scream and the metallic clattering of a firearm hitting concrete was what amounted to the RAF grunt’s final words. Marcus and Alicia then swiftly emerged from cover to examine the bloody scene that was laid out before them.

“Dear God...” the pair said aloud, almost in complete sync. The mangled mess of shattered bones, bleeding organs and other exposed exsanguinated extremities was quickly ignored in favour of the other still-living, morbidly obese RAF grunt, who was leaning against the nearby wall, cradling what remained of his detached forearm in his remaining hand. His screams had since dropped to that of a mere whimper as he gazed up at the two laowai.

“W-who are you?” he stuttered in a slurred mix of English and Cantonese, struggling to even form a coherent sentence as the blinding pain continued to assault his senses.

“We’re nobody.” Marcus uttered as he let his mask slip for a few moments, giving the dying man a taste of what truly lay underneath his fleshy exterior. The grunt then slumped onto the ground, looking up at the strange, vaguely-humanoid form that only he could perceive as his consciousness slipped into oblivion.

Then, to Marcus’ complete surprise, the fresh corpse morphed into bloodied, burnt and beaten facsimile of himself, lying in the exact same pose that the RAF grunt had been only a few seconds ago. The apparition seemed to show signs of life, made obvious by his laboured breathing and painful, muted cries for help and forgiveness. The apparition stared at Marcus through his of heavily tinted HUD glasses, with the right lens having a visible crack that ran from top to bottom. Blood seemed to be seeping out from a wound that was conveniently hidden by the cracked lens. The man’s face was also covered in bruises and cuts, his knuckles were bloodied and raw, not only that, but his left arm was awkwardly laid across his waist, seemingly non-functioning from the elbow down.

“Marcus?” Alicia said warily, waving a gloved hand in front of his face. “You there, Lovecraft?”

The ‘corpse’ stayed silent for a few moments before finally dissipating, forcing Marcus to snap back to reality and readopt his previously focused, battle-hardened façade. Alicia’s voice then came out loud and clear to his senses, sending him into a momentary panic as he tried to hide any lingering shades of doubt or possible ineptitude.

“Come, Alicia. We still have much work to do...” he said in a rather rushed fashion before striding toward the stairwell that the two RAF grunts had originated from. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was probably daydreaming again, but also hoped that none of these bizarre visions wouldn’t come to pass.

--

The end of this arc is near...

 

[O'Alexis 89]

The end of this arc is near...

Oh boy, OH BOY!

 

[Deleted member 82792]

A rough approximation as to what Bombay (British Raj) would look like ITTL.

Can you please show us more?

 

[KitFisto1997]

Can you please show us more?

I'll have a crack at a writeup on Bombay.

 

[KitFisto1997]

Description to come soon-ish...

 

[AmericanAdam]

Y ES P LE A SE

 

[KitFisto1997]

The British Raj is a complex mess in a region of complex messes. It is populated by almost a billion souls of varying faiths, religions and ethnicities, who are all steadfast and loyal to Her Imperial Majesty in far-off London. A Moslem Indian man, wearing the latest in neo-Victorian fashion, rubs shoulders with the Hindoo Anglo-descended woman, who chooses to wear the latest Sari, both of which are wired up to the eyeballs with dazzling LED displays that can change at the push of a button or even via mental command. Old-school rickshaws clash with the latest automated, electric-powered variants, all the while scores of private aircraft zoom overhead, taking their rich occupants to places unknown to the peons on the streets below. That is merely a small snapshot of the streets of Greater New Delhi, circa 2015.

India, while holding to the colour/faith-blind, pan-Imperial liberalism that was put forward during the Enlightenment, remains a deeply divided society. While the great and shining metropoli of Calcutta, Bombay, the Karachi Free City and Greater New Delhi may be home to men and women of various stripes, who often see themselves as equals, the rest of the Raj still sees itself fit to divide itself along petty distinctions such as caste, class, faith and race. Moslems are often attacked in rural or regional cities, towns and villages during Hindoo holy periods, while said violence is often reciprocated during Ramadan by the angry mobs of Moslems, who then go on to attack their erstwhile Hindoo oppressors.

For other religious minorities, such as the Christians, Sihks and Animists, their treatment is often far worse. Despite the deliberate attempts at a dialogue between religious and secular leaders, who now more often than not pray for an end to the bloodshed, the typical religious and political violence that characterises the rural and semi-industrialised (read, shitty corporate controlled and built towns that used to be ordinary villages) Indian heartland is currently ongoing and might not stop until a proper solution is reached. The half-baked agreements of the 1940s and 50s, which included the establishment of the poorly named ‘West Punjab Codominion’, that was intended to be a multiculti wonderland where Hindoos, Sihks and Moslems could live in harmony, which has sort of worked, are now due in store for a full rewrite.

The Raj is often considered to be the nexus of trade in a slowly-growing sub-continent, separating the booming, developing cities on the East African coast to the technological wonderland of the Far East, where such sights are more common. The ports of Bombay, Calcutta and Surat take in millions of men and materials every year, contributing to the growing skylines of India, Central Asia and China. The Raj is the unofficial ‘beating heart of the Empire’, wherein the bulk of the manufacturing, shipping and consuming takes place from within the BIC.

The military is also not one to be trifled with, for even though the Raj often gets the old hand-me-downs from the British Army, Navy and Air Force, they use them with a level of skill that is unmatched throughout the Anglosphere. The Raj has one of the largest standing armies in the world and has become an early adopter of semi-autonomous land drones, using them to patrol the high mountain ranges and flat, endless deserts that would often end in the loss of a highly trained soldier. The Indian Air Force is a hodgepodge of old and new, ranging from small turboprop trainer aircraft, often used to survey the deserts of Islamistan and Afghanistan, to heavily-armoured zeppelins that float above the gaping hole in Central Cathay that the Qing Chinese left in the 1930’s. The Navy is arguably the most under developed portion of the Raj’s armed forces, although the Indians do have a large merchant navy that is second to none in terms of size and global reach.

An Agent's Guide to the British Empire - The Raj.