Author Topic: A city called Armagedon  (Read 686 times)

0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.

Online Buster's Uncle

  • Through art, I
  • Transcend
  • *
  • Posts: 45715
  • €981
  • View Inventory
  • Send /Gift
  • Someone thinks a Winrar is You!  Because there are times when people just need a cute puppy  Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur  
  • AC2 is my instrument, my heart, as I play my song.
  • Planet tales writer Smilie Artist Custom Faction Modder AC2 Wiki contributor Downloads Contributor
    • View Profile
    • My Custom Factions
    • Awards
A city called Armagedon
« on: May 03, 2014, 02:47:27 AM »
A city called Armagedon

http://alphacentauri2.info/index.php?action=downloads;sa=view;down=210

Scenario Name: A city called Armagedon
SMAC/ SMAX: SMAC
Author: Darsnan
Date of original posting: 5/22/02 (posted 31-10-09 at WPC, if that was the original posting)
Original host site: WePlayCiv

Location: UN Interplanetary Colonization HQ, Customs Inspection Bay 23

Ah, Customs Inspection, the place where all factions need to declare all
goods they hope to take with them to colonize new worlds. Where the
Believers languish in a Purgatory of bureaucratic red tape, the Gaians
try to claim mindworms are pets, the University becomes indignant about
witchunts against forbidden technologies, and the Hive becomes
supersecretive as to their intentions. But for the Morganites, the
natural businessmen of the Universe, Customs is simply an exercise in
business by other means. And if anything, you are a true Morganite.
You watch as the Customs Inspector makes his way to your loading bay
where you have your wares spread out for inspection. You note the
Inspector’s uniform is sharply pressed, and his hat pulled straight
forward over perfectly cut hair: a very by-the-book man if you ever saw
one. Having marked him, you put on the personae which you think best
fits the environment, opening with a warm smile and pumping handshake.
The Inspector ignores the warmth of your smile, perfunctorily shaking
your hand before immediately moving over to the beginning of your bay.
He pulls out a standardized checklist and immediately begins ticking
things off against your manifest. After about half a minute he stops
ticking things off and turns to you. “Mainframe”, he demands, sticking a
hand out.
Your mainframe computer, the one which will run all your interests on
this planet. You reach into your pocket and hand him the computer. The
Inspector eyes it keenly, noting the model and serial number before
plugging it into a scanner. The scanner starts chugging along, reviewing
all the mainframe’s files, ensuring there were no contraband techs.
Fifteen seconds later the scanner’s light turns green. “Mainframe clean”
the Inspector notes for the log, and hands your mainframe back.
Next up is your equipment manifest -all your supplies which you plan on taking to the new world:

QTY ITEM
2 Hovertank Superformers
2 Drop Defenders
3 Supply Droids*
1 Alien Artififact
1 Transport Chopper*
2 Armored Probes
3 Impactor Battletanks
2 Hovertank Transports*
2 Crop Dusters*

*: modified from original manufacturer’s design

The Inspector stops at the asterisk, “how have you modified the
equipment from original manufacturer’s design?”, he asks briskly.
You instruct the Drone workers to open one of the crates, specifically
one containing a Hovertank Transport. You point to the back of the
machine, “the two tanks attached to the back are additional fuel tanks,
in order to give our traders extended range on their journeys” you say,
before adding with a smarmy smile, “our faction’s motto is ‘We go the
extra mile for our customers!’ “.
The Inspector stares at you blankly, then returns his attention to the
transport, looking over the rest of the Hovertank Transport’s hull,
“standard transport design, except for noted additional fuel tanks”, the
man remarks for the record, before motioning the Drones to close the
crate back up.
The Inspector moves to the next row of crates. “Weapons inspection” the
man dictates, and the Drones move to uncrate the first battletank. The
Inspector waves his scanner over the machine, its wand querying the
battletank for the machine’s specifics. The tank in turn spits out its
manufacturer’s specifications to the scanner display. “Impactor Main
turret gun, synthmetal armor, fission reactor, hovertank chassis”, the
Inspector reads off his scanner display for the record, “weaponry within
quarantine parameters”. He proceeds to walk down the still crated row
of tanks and armored probes, scanning each one in turn. After reviewing
the scanner’s data he adds, “all weapons platforms within acceptable
limits of quarantine”.
Finished, the Inspector stops at the far end of your bay and comments
for the record, “Inspection complete. Morganite Faction cleared for
transit”. The man motions you over, pointing to where you needed to
affix your signature to the necessary triplicate documentation. He
reviews hyour signatures, and once satisfied you have signed all three
copies correctly, the man turns and walks away, completely oblivious to
your outstretched hand.
You continue smiling as you watch the Inspector go. You have payed good
money to ensure you got an inspector who was completely “by the book”,
one who would be perfunctory and thorough, but lacked the imagination to
think outside the box. For if the Inspector had bothered to review his
scanner’s readout he would have noted your mainframe is actually of
University design, and as such has all of the prerequisite capabilities
of immediately researching one technology – a significant boost up in a
new trading environment! And if he had bothered to physically look
closer at your transport’s “fuel tanks” he would have realized that they
could be easily reconfigured into the compression chambers of artillery
units. And the “Impactor Battletanks”? Well, that’s what the scanner
said it was, so that was good enough for the Inspector. Yes, you think
to yourself, some very well spent EC’s.
A tingling at the back of your head causes you to turn, and you note a
Gaian staring intently at you from across the inspection bay. The woman
doesn’t waver in her gaze as she continues to focus on you, and you
recognize the tell-tale sign of an empath reading someone’s mind. Can’t
be, you think, empaths were outlawed from colonizing new planets, as
they gave their respective factions a leg up against other factions!
The woman smiles coldly at you before turning away, and you uneasily
realize that if you were so easily able to beat the Customs Inspection,
then the Gaians probably have learned their own tricks to get by the
Inspectors as well.
And if the Gaians had found a way to beat the quarantine, then how many
other factions were beating the system in their own ways as well?

Directions
1. In your Alpha Centauri/ Scenarios directory create a subdirectory
called Armagedon, and unzip the attached files into the Armagedon
subdirectory.
2. Start SMAC.
3. At the main screen choose Scenario, Play Scenario, and load up Armagedon.SC
4. The game will automatically load up with the Morganites.


Enjoy!

 

* User

Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?


Login with username, password and session length

Select language:

* Community poll

SMAC v.4 SMAX v.2 (or previous versions)
-=-
18 (7%)
XP Compatibility patch
-=-
9 (3%)
Gog version for Windows
-=-
70 (27%)
Scient (unofficial) patch
-=-
26 (10%)
Kyrub's latest patch
-=-
14 (5%)
Yitzi's latest patch
-=-
85 (33%)
AC for Mac
-=-
2 (0%)
AC for Linux
-=-
5 (1%)
Gog version for Mac
-=-
10 (3%)
No patch
-=-
12 (4%)
Total Members Voted: 251
AC2 Wiki Logo

* Random quote

There are only two ways in which we can account for a necessary agreement of experience with the concepts of its objects: either experience makes these concepts possible or these concepts make experience possible.
~Immanuel Kant 'Critique of Pure Reason', Datalinks

* Select your theme

*