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  1. So instead you're saying they should be called "TSFM Cap" and "TSFM Uniform", right?
  2. The changes suggested below the visual aid are mostly small text and description changes, but also include adding a few items such as a radio headset, assault belt, and armor vest. Currently the Solar Federation Marine job is under-powered, and when they show up and split up they're immediately without communication and also cannot holster their weapons properly. This suggestion list has changes that would let them communicate, holster their ARGs, hold their knife and ammo in a belt, and just operate far better. The biggest change suggestion however is adding a TSF radio channel for them to communicate with each other. They operate in large numbers and a dedicated channel would benefit them. This job already exists, these are change suggestions to a pre-existing job to balance it to be feasible. I've talked with Birdtalon, Shockpoint, BlessedTuna, Spacemanspark, R1f73R (Ide Taro), C.A.S. (Casey), and Fraggloid. We've fine tuned it and agree these changes are due. The current Solar Federation Marine event job inventory: 1 security backpack 1 box containing breath mask, emergency oxygen tank, and emergency autoinjector. 1 ARG 3 toploader magazines (5.56mm) 1 combat knife 1 magboots 1 combat boots 1 combat gloves 1 Sol Federation marine uniform 1 Sol Federation marine cap 1 ID Card (Solar Federation Marine) Suggested changes to text and description: Have marines spawn with rank names: Currently they spawn with names like Ishmael Bunten, instead have names like Private Bunten. Like the ERT. Rename ID cards to “Trans-Solar Federation Marine”, more accurate. Rename “Sol Federation marine uniform” to “Trans-Solar Federation Marine Uniform” Change description of uniform from “A comfortable and durable combat uniform worn by Sol Federation Marine Forces.” to “A comfortable and durable combat uniform worn by marines of the Trans-Solar Federation.” Rename “Sol Federation marine cap” to “Trans-Solar Federation Marine Cap” Change description of cap from “A soft cap worn by marines of the Sol Federation.” to “A soft cap worn by marines of the Trans-Solar Federation.” Change ARG description from “A robust assault rile used by Nanotrasen fighting forces.” to “A robust assault rifle used by various fighting forces.” Change toploader magazine (5.56mm) description from “A box of ammo? There are 30 shells left!” to “An ammunition magazine. There are 30 shells left.” Change 5.56 bullet casing description. “A 5.56mm bullet casing. This one is spent” Just add a period after the word "spent". Suggested changes to marine equipment: Give marines ERT-level access cards, they are an emergency response force. Make marine ID cards have a unique appearance, or at least be blue? Blue is the TSF color. Give marines an armor vest, for protection. It would also allow holstering of the ARG. Give marines an assault belt to hold their knives and ammo. They currently have nothing to hold them except their backpack. Give marines a radio headset, and a station bounced radio. They currently have zero communication options. Replace security backpack with a leather satchel, the Nanotrasen security backpack does not fit for Trans-Solar Federation marines. Suggested changes to the SecHud: Give the Trans-Solar Federation Marine job a SecHud icon. They currently are just displayed as the ID-less question mark. Suggested changes to radio channels: Introduce a Trans-Solar Federation radio channel, which these radio headsets would be able to access.
  3. Day 3: Honk Honk Honk The captain congratulated the crew on the death of the Nuclear Operative, while the lights flickered ominously. Then it came time to vote for someone to shove out the airlock. Only one person voted, Threeinone. They claimed that MarcellusPye was suspicious, as they stroked their walrus mustache. However, as MarcellusPye was thrown into the airlock chamber, they pointed a finger in Threeinone's direction, smiling far too wide to be natural. And as they were quickly sucked into the void, everyone grew uneasy. Threeinone started falling apart immediately, however, clutching their head and yelling repeatedly, "The honking, the honking! Make it stop, make it stop! The honking, the honking!" They immediately ran for the escape pods, slamming the door shut and welding it shut before the stunned crowd could stop him. As they tried prying it open, they heard a warning siren. The pod was being tampered with. The crew scampered back into the arrivals deck as the pod careened into space, hot-wired and sailing through the lonely trail back to Central Command. One could say he was lucky. However, he had literal years of paperwork to go through for abusing company property. MarcellusPye the Clown has been executed, and won! The game goes on, however! Threeinone the Janitor has been driven off the station by the HonkMother!
  4. (Sorry guys, another delay. The narrative will be posted tomorrow at 9 PM eastern standard time and the night shift will begin then. Only votes that were cast are counted.)
  5. Night 2: Newton's Third Law Acting Captain Thamuel was just about to go to sleep, coat off and pajamas on, toothbrush in mouth. So far, their reign seemed pretty good. There was only one death so far, and that was better than most shifts on this station. He should put that in the report to central tonight. Turned out they expected a whole lot of reports. But wait, something was wrong. As they entered the bedroom, it felt like... someone was there with him. He glanced around, tilting his hat and pulling his toothbrush out of his mouth menacingly. It wasn't the best weapon, but it was better than nothing. Then, out of the corner of the room, an energy blade suddenly hummed to life, and a corpse-like figure came charging towards the unprotected captain. It looked like the end for the newly elected master of the station... That is, until a security guard came running up from behind Thamuel and threw him out harm's way, taking the hit himself. The captain could only watch in helpless horror as the Nuclear Operative sped off, laughing all the while, and the intrepid guard fell to pieces. He scrambled to his feet, yelling for the doctor, trying to hold his guard together, emotionally and physically. "You'll be okay, its fine. Just, just hold in your insides, okay?" But it was too late. SquidMaster was no longer an employee of Nanotrans. Or alive. These two conditions were heavily related. SquidMaster the General Security was cleaved in twain by the Nuclear Operative! Hours later, Acting Captain Thamuel was wandering the halls of the station, in a shocked stupor. He needed to process this. He needed a drink. He needed... somehow, he was in front of the bar. No, not the bar. He'd find somewhere else to drink. Somewhere more peaceful. Proceeding straight down the hall, he somehow ended up back in front of the bar. Curious now, he opened the door. Walking to the counter, he approached the bartender, who was shrouded in shadows. Before he could even say anything, the bartender put down a cocktail and said "Before you ask, its better if you don't think about it. Just start drinking and tell me what's wrong. I'm sure its, exhilarating." Thamuel looked at the drink, and glanced around the room. Full, and with the sound of static chatter. "Well... it starts when I was twelve... mother always wanted me to play the tuba. I despised the tuba..." The Bartender has kept Thamuel busy for the night! The red suited security guard approached the head of security, a wild grin on their face. "What do you need boss? Someone needs a smacking? Trust me, I'm real good with that." They stood there, the smile slowly disappearing as the head stayed silent. The confusion turned to anger, as they slammed a fist on the table. "No, no! You're shitting me! They got Squid? Tell me where they're at! I'm gonna gut those bastards!" The head leaned across the desk, depositing something on the desk. A shotgun, with a live shell. "You get one shot. Make it count. On the wings of justice you fly, by my authority you are given permission to use lethal force in the apprehension of ZN23X. Lets hope I'm not wrong." The Head of Security has made an execution order on ZN23X! Meanwhile, ZN23X was laughing, stumbling along the hallway. They may have missed their target, but they made another kill. While they were planning to take the night off, to draw suspicion away from themselves, they just couldn't resist. And after the fact, they had no regrets. It was well worth the pleasure of the kill. They kept this thought, even as they felt a chunk of their innards turn to chutney, and fell to the ground. No regrets. They didn't intend to leave this station alive anyways. ZN23X the Nuclear Operative has been fairly executed by the last remaining member of Security!
  6. Five security officers in a security train through the maintenance tunnels.
  7. Actually, sea lions in general would be rather violent.
  8. What is the traitor clown can tele-crystal in circus animals? Dangerous, hostile, big circus animals. Lions, elephants with tiny hats on, sea lions with sonic squeaky horns.
  9. I think we shouldn't make the clown a more effective troll, instead promote other kinds of pranks for them to pull. How about a cream pie trap? Put on the floor, pie in the face when stepped on. Or a tiny car mech, which is just a tiny clown car that like ten people can fit inside. Give the clown a unicycle, like security has the sec-way. Ideas, man. I got em.
  10. Day 2: 0 Days Without an Accident MarcellusPye lamented the battered remains of the detective as the station floated in the void. Captain Thamuel said it could've been anyone, and it was too soon to draw conclusions. ZN23X agreed, rubbing their bloodstained energy sword's hilt filth away with syndicate branded syndicate soap. Bxil claimed everyone was doomed, and Normalyman tried to rally the crew into not giving up just yet! Either way, it seemed the crew were too uneasy with the idea of murdering one of their own in cold blood. Nobody was executed! END OF DAY 2 SHIFT, START OF NIGHT 2 SHIFT
  11. (Yes. Also, votes for who to execute are just as public as the captain election votes. Must be sent via PM to count. The representative has to PM me to renege an execution.)
  12. Night 1: Papers Please The Janitor set up traps around his workplace, but nobody showed. They drank the night away. Gangelwaefre was in the Head of Personnel's office, going through the paper records. During the attack on the station, all the digital records were destroyed by stray explosions and laser fire. The disheveled papers were illuminated by the soft glow of Gangel's monitor, as they poured over the employee applications and career transfer files. Hours of hard work were finally paying off, as they found the odd bunch out. Just some more second checking, and they should be ready to... wait. Did the door just open? They turned their head, and saw them. An evil red glow from the signature energy sword, dimly lighting their sickly pallor. Truly, a sickening display of evil made incarnate. Gangel drew their .38 revolver and shot, but the operative was fast. It only clipped them, and their face screwed up as they tore Gangel to pieces in a swirling vortex of destruction. The detective never stood a chance. As they laid in their chassis, unable to move, the operative stood over the pile of papers. Using their sword, they slowly lowered it over the papers, lighting the pile ablaze. A grim smile spread over their face, as they plucked the positronic brain out of Gangel's obliterated husk. They then tucked it into their pocket. Yes, the detective would watch as they made their art... it was a beautiful thing. They left the office in flames. And so the night shift continued. Gangelwaefre the Detective has been destroyed by the Nuclear Operative! Someone, somewhere, has been given a really cool haircut... The Barber has planted a bomb! END OF NIGHT 1 SHIFT, START OF DAY 2 SHIFT
  13. Day 1: Where the Crew Forgets to Use their PDAs Right away, Krayvern spoke up. "We shouldn't stand around gossiping with each other, we need to get right to work, decide who to make captain." Threeinone squinted their already scrunched up face at Krayvern, skeptical. "You sure? Open mouths are prime for surprise hooks. Till we find out whose who, I'd rather keep mine shut." Krayvern shook their head. "Cooperation is key, if we're going to survive. We need to act appropriately, follow operating procedure. As long as we follow Space Law and stick together, we'll be just fine." Thamuel sidled up to Krayvern, smiling as they addressed the rest of the crowd. "Yes yes, exactly, what they said. Dangers are abound, and we need to keep each other safe. Which I can do, for you. Which is why I propose you elect me as Captain of Space Station 13. I will hold you all safely in my big, strong hands." MarcellusPye stepped up, making the sudden podium space even more crowded. "Actually, you should all vote for me. I'm going to lube up the whole station, and put bear traps everywhere." Instantly, accusations were thrown by all the candidates and a fair amount of the crew. Everybody was suspicious of everybody. MarcellusPye was called a clown, to which they adamantly said they were not, as they poured itching powder into the food rations. Normalyman, despite not being an active candidate, was heavily involved in all of it. Toolboxes were drawn and eyes were glancing about for banana peels. Bxil said he should be voted for out of nowhere, as ZN23X walked into the crowd in a blood red hardsuit claiming they were not at all suspicious and found it in the maintenance tunnels. However, even though most of the crew participated in saying who they would vote for, and a fair amount told others to vote for them, most forgot to actually vote using their PDAs. In the end, Thamuel had four votes, Krayvern had three votes, Bxil voted for themselves, and MarcellusPye used to have a vote, but lost it to Thamuel. The new captain and representative were picked, as Thamuel was given the captain's discarded hat and coat, and Krayvern was given the beret and glasses of the Nanotrans Representative. Two tourists were given helmets and security outfits, and flanked the captain. And just like that, the lights turned out one by one, and the crew scattered to their respective hideouts on the nearly derelict station, as maintenance drones got to work. The night shift had begun. END OF DAY 1 SHIFT, START OF NIGHT 1 SHIFT