Coldflame

Considering around half of regular blueshield players consistently ask for additional gear and access and roundstart, explicitly banning it via SOP needs to happen. This is off the topic of the threat, but SOP probably isn't enough to properly fix blueshield powergaming (though admittedly it's been less frequent recently). Actually handing out jobbans over it or making them unimplanted might be a better solution

vox with roundstart thermals and somebody can carry three of them on their person at once? no thanks

ERT medics have standard FAKs which have scanners in them, don't they?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theft_by_finding Regardless of where you got it, if you don't immediately return it or hand it to sec, you've stolen it.

With https://github.com/ParadiseSS13/Paradise/pull/4119 merged, the idea that's been chucked around the discord a few times might be actually possible. This would, of course, be quite the undertaking to code and implement. The general idea is to replace the sec pod pilot with a security biker, focused more on space mobility and chasing EVA-equipped targets than area denial and mob cleaning, generally making for a more interesting role that makes a greater contribution to the sec team than the pilot currently does. Compared to their current state, they'd have a few key differences; primarily, the space pod is replaced with a unique security spacebike capable of seating up to two people (with cuffed people having to resist out of a stationary bike in order to escape being buckled to it). This would move faster than the pod does (perhaps at pre-nerf pod speeds), but would be extremely brittle and suffers damage upon collisions. The pike would make the sec biker the fastest element in space, but would require more skilled space combat and could easily be stopped by an armed pursuer without taking evasive maneuvers. The bike would be reasonabily difficult to repair, likely needing to be recovered and brought to the station to be fixed. The bike would be a powerful tool in the hands of antags (perhaps alongisde system wherein it must be 'primed' using a Biker/HoS ID along with a few tools to stop it getting stolen on rounds without a Biker). Instead of a security hardsuit, the biker would get a spaceproof leather jacket-helmet set. It'd restrict movement less than a sec hardsuit and be more distinctive, but only have moderate armor, roughly comparable to that of a secvest. Rather than equip the bike with weapons, the biker would be able to use weaponry whilst riding. This is, obviously, unlikely to actually happen, but I figured it was a worthwhile idea enough to post, if only for posterity's sake.

the last part of thisll be delayed for a while until im out of hospital, sorry

If you need to afk long enough for murder to be an issue just DC for SSD protection? Being able to bolt yourself in a room has some pretty serious balance implications, as evidenced by servers which have it.

Xenos need severe nerfs, not buffs.

Part Three: Edwards spoke to himself before the radio. This is a terrible idea.. “I'm outside. Cap, open up.” “Okies.” The broken common spoken by the captain did little to ease his nerves. He'd be locked in the room without a chance of escape. Only one person was leaving the office alive. The door opened, and the captain gave Edwards a friendly glance. He responded with a false smile, and stepped inside. The office was about as gaudy as a room can be. Pointless decorations littered the walls, carpet covered the floor, and a variety of displays adorned the room, all filled with something valuable. With one exception- an empty gun cabinet. A clearly recently-placed soviet flag hung from the wall, and several bottles of vodka sat on the table the 'plan' was to be discussed. Rynnt was already sat by the table, holding a riot shield. Nanotrasen's station liason, an unathi, sat by the table, visibly taller than the captain even when sat. Their eyes darted around the room constantly, as if assesing the situation, before settling uneasily on Tristen. They thought he was part of the communist group, but he was still an outsider who'd had no hand in their plan. All four members of the group sat around the table. An awkward silence was maintained for around a minute, before being broken by the captain. “Is takes over station! Capitalists is skrek!” Not exactly insightful.. Edwards responded. “What's our plan then? That thing we discussed earlier?” “Yaya.” The Unathi looked up from the table, and spoke in broken common. “And what are you discuss?” Rynnt also spoke. “Yeah, I'm not sure what you're on about either, boss.” The captain's eyes darted to Rynnt. Rynnt's eyes darted to Tristen. Tristen looked uneasily at the door to the office. Rynnt spoke again. “Fuckers.” The captain reached for their gun. Rynnt used his free hand to draw a taser, and fired at the captain. Edwards dived for cover. The Unathi merely watched. Rynnt and the captain traded shots from opposite sides of the room. The captain used a table for cover, whilst Rynnt blocked shots with the shield. Both parties yelled. “Boss! Get the fucker!” “Eddies! Is hurt skrek!” Tristen stayed behind the table, clutching his gun. Shots flew dangerously close to him as the captain fired their decorative gun as fast as they could pull the trigger. The Unathi remained sat calmly, barely outside the line of fire. A shriek filled the room as the captain fell to the ground, convulsing with the shock of being tased. Rynnt sprant across the room, and immediately reached down for the captain's gun. With a flip, it was pointed at his head. “Bad move. Wait till this thing charges, then it's game over.” Edwards began to creep across the room, sliding a stun-baton from his belt and moving towards Rynnt. The Unathi watched silently, still motionless. Now only a step behind Rynnt, Tristen flicked on the baton. Rynnt had time for a single word. “Fucker.” Edwards swung the baton, hitting Rynnt square in the back of the head. He hit the ground almost instantly, convulsing and shaking from the electrocution. Edwards immediately drew his gun, and pointed it down at Rynnt, flicking the switch again, turning the gun's highlights to a deep red shade. “Sorry.” Tristen repeatedly pulled the trigger. Rynnt initially rolled around repeatedly, before rolling onto his back, his head almost entirely melted. Edwards knelt down and helped the captain to his feet. “Damned capitalists.” “Yaya. Is thanks for savies.” “We need to talk.” “Yaya?” Edwards removed a piece of paper from his pocket, and handed it to the captain. The captain read it intently, before moving his beak into what looked like an attempt at a grimace. He whispered to the captain's ears. “The representative's a rat. He's working with the capitalists, using our code words. Should I...” He gestured over his shoulder lightly. The captain nodded. Edwards placed his gun into the captain's recharger unit, waiting briefly for it to flash yellow. The Unathi finally spoke. “What is our plan now?” “Is die, skrek capitalists!” Tristen pulled his gun from the recharger and immediately began firing towards the liaison. He didn't have a chance to react. They slumped in their chair, motionless. Edwards placed his sidearm back in the recharger. Two down... Edwards broke the uncomfortable silence. “So. Seems like there weren't as many of us as I thought.” “Yaya. Is skreks.” “What do we do now?” “Nannytrasens is capitalists yaya?” “Yeah.” “Is NTey station, ya?” “So is blows up!” The captain pulled a small, green, data disk from his pocket and waved it around. “Smart. We get the fuckers where it hurts. One problem, though.” “Yaya?” “We need the code.” “Is silly meats! Is already gets code from Space Russias!” “Great. Go get the nuke.” “Okies.” The captain turned and began walking towards the door. Tristen sighed. This was his last chance. He pulled the gun from the recharger, and began firing towards the captain. This isn't the end of the round, but most of the important parts have already been covered. I'll write up the rest at some point in the near future.

Part Two: Edwards' hand instinctively darted into his coat, pulling out his gun. The IPC unit darted in the other direction as Tristen fired his first shot. With an aggrivated grunt as the shot hit the wall, Edwards began to spinrt after the killer, flicking his gun onto 'DISABLE' mode, replacing the soft yellow on the gun with a neon green. Tristen fired several shots blindly in front of him, landing hits on both the killer and nearby bystanders. The IPC unit fell to the ground,limp. The nearby group of crewmembers dispersed, not wanting to be caught in crossfire; Edwards briskly walked over, shards of glass breaking under his feet. With a sigh, he began to cuff the killer. He slid his arm between those of the killer and began dragging them to the brig. If nothing else, it became alarmingly apparent that there were, in fact, Communist Mutant Traitors aboard the station. The killer was pressed against the wall. A hand held his head firmly against it, blocking his vision, and the barrel of a gun pressed tightly against his back. A coarse voice erupted right into his ear “Start talking.” “I don't know what you're talking about.” “The murder. Why did you kill him?” “Who? What murder?” The head was pulled back, then firmly shoved into the wall again. Edwards wasn't sure if machines felt pain like he did, but he had to get answers out somehow. “Don't bullshit me. I saw you do it.” “I don't know what you're talking about.” The head was shoved against the wall again. Harder. A sharp buzzing sound came from the IPC's head. “The murder! Why did you do it!” “I don't know what you're talking about.” The synthesized, generic voice seemed to have a sense of pleasure in repeating the phrase. Another crackle from the headset- this one much longer. A voice came through it. “Remember, Edwards. Any means necessary.” A deep sigh. A flick of the switch on a gun. The tightening of a finger. “Last warning. Tell me everything you know.” “I don't know what you're talkin-” The trigger was pulled. The quiet sound of a laser discharge echoed around the room. Another shot. Another. The synthetic murderer fell to the ground, not moving at all. Edwards dragged the damaged chassis to the nearest locker, before shutting it with a soft click. Nobody would look there. Edwards moved as calmly as he could to his office nearby and took a seat. Incessantly, he began to tap the desk. He began to try put the pieces together. Either Rynnt or the captain was working with the communists. That meant he couldn't trust anybody except himself. There was no discernible pattern for their operations, but- they seemed to be gunning for each-other. One thing was clear- People were dying. Edwards removed his PDA from his coat pocket, and placed it on the desk. He opened the 'messenger' app. This is a terrible idea. He hesitantly hit the 'Set Ringtone' button. A text input box opened. 'PLEASE ENTER FILE NAME'. Two-Seven-One DELTA. As soon as his finger hit 'A', the PDA screen immediately flickered, before being replaced with an all-too familiar red 'S'. A list descended down the screen- A variety of buttons, each labelled with short phrases in simple text. Red-tinted eyes inspected the list, deliberating. Tristen wasn't happy using the 'gift', but he didn't have much choice. He pressed two buttons. 'Cryptographic Sequencer' followed by 'Adrenal Implant'. As if out of nowhere, an ID and an benign-looking implanter sat on the desk. A robotic hand wrapped itself round the implanter, and tapped it against the soft flesh of the neck. Edwards pushed in the button, grunting quietly at the pain. He rubbed his hand against the implant, reassured by the insurance policy the implant would provide, he moved his attention to the ID card. As soon as he picked it up, the wires on the inside began to bundle out of the side of the card, having been crudely modified. A message broadcast into Tristen's headset again, this time a synthesized, mechanic voice, that of the station's AI; 'LAW CHANGE DETECTED: ELIMINATE ALL CAPITALISTS'. Tristen began to scramble. Clock was ticking. Edwards stood up and took steps across his office to the cheap, plastic fax machine sat upon the fake wood desk. He inserted the 'ID Card' into the fax machine and hit the 'Log-In' button. A harsh beep, followed by an 'Access Denied' appearing on the LED display. He then inserted his actual ID. A more pleasant chirp sound came from the machine, followed by 'Access Granted'. Tristed scrolled through the recipient list, until finding the recipient he was looking for; 'ErR0R L0Cat1on Unkn0WN'. Impatiently, he slid a hastily message scrawled onto a piece of paper into the fax slot, and hit 'Send'. The response was printed almost immediately. A greyscale 'S' adorned the top of the paper, quickly followed; 'The code words are compromised. Use them to identify our enemies. We have given you the equipment and NT have given you the rank. All that remains is you t'. Another radio broadcast. This time, the captain. “Hossies! Rynnt! Is gets to office!'.Edwards shoved his gun into the nearby recharger port, and moved his head to the side of his head, depressing the button on his radio. “Yeah, sure, I'll get right over.” The recharger flashed yellow. Edwards removed his gun. He slid it back into his coat. This was going to end badly for somebody. He left the office, muttering to himself.

Forenote: This is loosely based on an event round recently hosted by Necaladun. The main events are true to the way the round played out, but details have been adjusted and omitted for dramatic effect. This ended up being a LOT longer than intended. I'll split this in to three posts, with the split being where the action of the round begins- Skip to the second one if you're not interested in the early, slower paced, stages of the round, and skip to the third if you want to only read the 'action' of the round. Let me know if there are any grammar/spelling errors, or if you have any feedback in general. Part One: The watch ticked forwards slowly, before flashing with an alarm. Beep beep. Beep beep. 12:03. Lunch break was over- time to get to work. The man zipped up his jumpsuit and stood from the chair, swiping away a lock of blonde hair from his shoulder. He looked on young side for this line of work, no older than thirty. Opening a poorly-organized locker, the man slid on his coat and rapped his knuckle lightly against his right arm, replaced with a prosthetic. He slid a beret onto his head, adjusting it slightly. He reached into his pocket and removed a small, dark red card, adorned with a basic design, a photograph and some small text: 'Tristen Edwards- Head of Security'. The card was inserted into the top compartment of the locker, followed by a harsh ping. Reluctantly, the panel slid open to reveal a handgun. With a sigh, a gloved hand liberated the gun from the cabinet, and snugly slid it into a coat holster, followed by a disgruntled mutter. “Time for another grind of the same bullshit.” As if on cue, a faint ping erupted from the nearby desk. Swiping aside some papers from the disorganized mountain, Edwrads unearthed his PDA. He took a brief look at the screen. A lifeless Nanotrasen screensaver replaced with an ominous red 'S'. It looked exactly like a standard Syndicate PDA uplink hack, complete with modified firmware, but...why? Again, as if on cue, text began to fill the screen of the PDA, each letter flickering between several characters before stopping. 'Communist Mutant Traitors have infiltrated the station. Space law and SOP are void. Hunt them, and eliminate them.' Edwards let out a grunt of confusion. These PDA hacks weren't cheap, and certainly aren't secure for the Syndicate's systems. Too expensive to be used for pranks, at least. But, still. Communist mutant traitors? Tristen reached for the device, and began to inspect it. More text began to appear. 'We have provided you with a telecrystal uplink in order to help you complete these goals. Set your messaging software's ringtone to the phrase '271 DELTA' in order to activate it'. Things had instantly gone from absurd to worrying. Sending him a message was one thing but, a telecrystal uplink? This was serious. Edwards pressed the 'reset' button on the PDA, indicating he understood the information. Supplementary information danced across the screen almost too quick to read. Codewords intended to be used to contact 'collaborators'. 'Brave Bull', followed by 'Deep'. The PDA then softly beeped again, immediately cutting to the Nanotrasen screen-saver. One thing was sure. This was going to be one of those days. The same voices as normal crackled through the headset. “Tristen, you there?”, “HoS, you around?”, “Someone hand out the holobadges!”. Still, the bad feeling was impossible to shake; Something was wrong. The real question was how he was going to deal wi- “Edwards? You okay?” His finger darted to his headset, and he pressed down the button. “Yeah, fine. I was just daydreaming. Get patrolling.” Edwards walked over to one of his officers, who was rooting through a locker and equipping himself with standard gear; he looked slightly younger than Tristen, and stood slightly taller. Immediately, Tristen's red-tinted sunglasses were bombarded with information; Rynnt Oenthe; standard security officer. Decent, if brief, service records, and no anomalies of note. Seemed as good a choice as any. The uneasy silence was broken with a whisper. “Hey?” “Yeah, boss?” “You're, ah, probably going to call me crazy, and I probably am, but be on the look out for 'Communist Mutant Terrorists'” An awkward pause. Both men looked at each other almost completely devoid of expression. “Uhh...yeah...sure thing, boss.” That'd gone about as well as could be expected. Edwards left the station's brig, and began wandering the corridors. Thoughts constantly crossed his mind as he assessed the possibilities. Were the syndicate manipulating him? Had he finally gone insane? Were there actually Communist Mutant Traitors out there? If they were, how would he find them? Crackling erupted from his headset, followed by panicked speech from a variety of sources. “Russians in the chapel!” “Bear attacking the bridge!” “I found a dead body in maint!”. In under a minute, several calamities had took place. Several dead Space-Russians were littering the station's chapel by the time he arrived had arrived there. The security force cleaned up the situation, had the wounded tended to, and Tristen began wandering again. Almost immediately, the station's loudspeakers crackled harshly, followed by an unfamiliar voice. The accent was thick. And unmistakably Space-Russian. “Comrades! Good news! We have infiltrated the station! We have them outnumbered! Rise up!” Edwards immediately opened the nearby doors to the bridge, and briskly walked inside. Perhaps the captain had received a similar warning? Only one way to find out. The captain was stood there, adjusting the mask covering his beak, not looking particularly fazed by the message. “Ah! Hossie! Is knows who commie is! Is Rynnt!” The head of security silently closed the distance, and spoke softly. “Know anything about a Brave Bull?” The bird-like captain responded in kind, speaking as quietly as a vox can be expected to. “Is Deeps!” Tristen nodded silently, and began to walk in the opposite direction, coldly uttering a final sentence as he opened the door to the bridge. “Consider Rynnt dealt with.” Edwards leant against the nearest wall and began tapping the screen of his PDA, preparing to set a trap for Rynnt. His finger hovered above the red 'SEND' button. He was really going to kill a man on suspicion? Sure, the captain knew the code word, but- Wait. Could the captain be... Edwards' train of thought was interrupted by a sharp noise to the right. His head darted over. Walls were covered in crimson, a sickening scream followed by a crunch. Edwards looked hopelessly as the man fell to the ground, dead. Stood above him was another crew member, robotic, holding the head that formerly belonged to the lifeless body at its feet.

This is actually optional. As a cultist a while back I stunned, cuffed, and sliced up the HoS in maintenance. His body was found and he came back a short while later with a vengeance, knowing exactly what had happened. I ahelped and was told it was legit. I was defibbed that round, not cloned.

not wearing a jumpsuit, not got a tank in either hand he ded

unless they have a pinpointer? like 90% of people stealing the disk will have? the one, ONE thing the captain needs to do is carry the damned disk

I've played more than my fair share of blueshield (albiet not recently), and in my experience, their roundstart access is sufficient to do their job. I'm not sure how much it happens recently, but in my experience I was offered roundstart all-access by around half of captains. Head offices are perhaps an exception (blueshield probably SHOULD have access to head offices roundstart, though it's been discussed several times and the general consensus seems to be otherwise). Perhaps 'An exception can be made regarding access to a member of command staff's office, provided they consent'.

The thing with the captain is that they don't have any responsibilities. When captainship falls on me as HoS, I use the additional powers mostly as tools to help me do my job effectively, rather than starting to operate primarily as the captain. Counter-intuitively, during low-pressure situations I prefer the HoP to take over so I don't have to deal with running the whole station, however when a crisis happens captain powers can give me the means to run things more effectively. Regarding removing the captain: If the captain's exceptionally bad, I'll usually pursue a unanimous no-confidence vote and remove them, following the chain of command downwards afterwards. Failing that, I'll get the rep or HoP to contact CC. The only time I'll use physical force to remove a captain is when they present a direct threat to the crew. I do, however, often find a reason to brig particularly bad captains until I can arrange their demotions (generally they commit crimes in the process of being shits).

Captain's SoP is fine by the looks of it. HoP should probably be restricted from needlessly handing out additional access rather than specifically captain-level access (I can already see HoP's giving themselves IDs with everything but virology access.) NT rep seems fine. Perhaps a note regarding badgering security during crisis situations would be helpful, though. Blueshield could use some tighter guidelines, to be honest. Perhaps replace blueshield's fifth guideline with: "The Blueshield is not to request or be provided with additional ID access, Security equipment, or any further weaponry under normal circumstances. Should a situation arise where additional equipment or station access is a requirement to the effective protection of command staff, they should not be be issued without authorization from the Head of Security and/or Captain". AI maint restrictions could use a few adjustments. Requiring all command members be informed in advance of the law change, and given an opportunity to raise objections would stop captains sneaking laws through. I'd also suggest that RD and one other head be replaced with any two heads, though an argument could be made either way. I'd also suggest a guideline stating that the HoS is authorized to use the reset board to remove illegal laws. The proposed CoC seems a little odd. Currently CoC is Captain>HoP>Vote, but usually ends up as Captain>HoP>HoS>Vote. Changing official CoC Captain>HoP>HoS>Vote seems to be the best choice in my view, but it seems like it's going to be discussed further anyway. Not sure where it would fall under, but information regarding demoting the captain seems like a worthwhile inclusion.

Great work as always. I don't usually comment on these threads, but I really like your style and grittier take on the ss13 aesthetic. You captured Tristen as a character well with the nuances, especially given how the expression is neutral in general.

My two cents: Merging the five traitor gamemodes into one would be a good start, as nec said. Removing the blob and heist gamemodes entirely and leaving them as events would also cut down the metagaming levels (and get rid of two shitty gamemodes that are much better suited as events). Wiz, cult, sling and nuke are all fine as they are in my opinion. They're already engaging and push the crew/sec to its limit. Cult getting stomped and leaving an extended round is an issue that might need to be addressed, but the other three have mechanics to bring the round to a natural end.

Replacement for antag chainsaw as clown plz give the clown a fake chainsaw give clown traitors a fake fake chainsaw

AdvISR's been great when I've played with them. The rounds themselves went from zero to fucked pretty quickly though. If you're reluctant to play crew (don't be, it's really not a big deal), perhaps try rolling a borg or playing AdvISR as an IPC?

the HoP exists

You don't need to be an antag to enjoy the game or do interesting things. If somebody is honestly only playing the game for the sake of their antag rounds, the problem isn't with the selection system- it's with them. The system's fine as it is- though, as an alternative to increasing antag frequency over time, limiting the amount of antags a player can opt into would mean players are more likely to get to play the antags they want to play more regularly without weighting things.

I'll throw in a couple suggestions that don't deserve their own thread: -Gunlight for HoS -Dunking donuts in coffee

I'm pretty sure you unlock malf after/at the same time as AI. Still, this is a bad idea, for various reasons. Karma shouldn't have an impact in-game.