STIL: Project Vorare

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STIL: Project Vorare

Postby AZKAMAT » Sat Oct 14, 2017 8:03 pm

This will be the final prologue shoot before my HH entry begins...


It's midday in a town on the planet Berliniscow, capitol planet of the namesake Berliniscow Naturalist party. Nearly a year has passed since Septic Springs kicked off the start of a major conflict with the Federalist Star Union.

Here, party elites rule with the iron fist of mechanically loyal robotic and cloned soldiers. The civilian workforce here has been made to be of subnormal intelligence by years of genetic engineering.

It may be for reasons you expect, though. The changes were not forced upon them to make them more docile or subservient, or otherwise more amenable to totalitarian oppression.

No. They were changed to make them equal.

At first BNP leadership attempted to gene-forge hyper intelligent beings, more alike with how they saw themselves than the jaw-jutting buffoons, one step above chimps, that they eventually crafted. But such a project encountered difficulties they had not foreseen which ran afoul of their egalitarian ideals.

They found that instead of intelligence raising realized value of a person, it merely raised the potential value. It failed to come to pass that everyone would invent new things, produce more valuable goods, score better on tests, or improve in other measures of evaluation. A few came close or perhaps even achieved to the ceiling of their potential. A few further still did the opposite, opting for the squalor one would expect of an oaf. A cattle-prod was needed to so much as rouse them from sleep. Most landed someplace in between the extremes.

No amount of modification by the party elites was able to resolve these issues with those first brilliant beings.

So a new, final solution was proposed and adopted.

Instead of raising the maximum potential for their subjects and inventing means of 'encouraging' them to realize their potential, a fully egalitarian society would be achieved by creating a people whose ceiling was so low that they could not but reach it.

Thus the Naturalist "New Man" was born; astonishing in its mental simplicity, void of creativity, and susceptibility to manipulation.


The "New Men," known to their would-be annihilators in the Federalist Star Union as "Synthetically Engineered Minifig Life," go on about an average day of manual work around town.


Though the opiate of the masses is officially outlawed by the party elite, who know best, New Men often create local belief systems that bear striking resemblances to ancient tribal spiritualism, but utterly lack the dynamism and explanatory power that more advanced monotheism could provide.

Anytime a local cult or spiritualist clique appears to be moving in that direction, a party-ordered 'correction' to the truth of naturalism is swift.


On the outskirts of the BNP town, a set of odd figures approach the ladder to a stone fortress overlooking the township of New Men.


The one leading them turns to speak as he reaches the ladder.

"My friends," says the white-crowned figure in a low but twisted voice, "I know we are all busy lately with the conduct of the war, but I've still called you all here today to show to you a new weapon."

The being seems as though he is about to continue when the one in the crimson cape interjects. "A new weapon?" it blurts in a snarling voice, "new weapons are introduced all the time! What makes this one worth my attention?"

The premier of the Berliniscow Naturalist Party pauses briefly before replying. It's not often for subordinates to be anything less than utterly obsequious. But then these were his top lieutenants. If they weren't assertive risk-takers, they would lack the capacity to give him results...

"You must believe in me, Generalissimo, as you believe in the gospel of naturalism. I am the manifestation of that, recall?

This weapon is special, unlike any other weapon we or those fairy-tale loving fools who oppose us have fielded."

"Giant robots?" asks the cobra-headed command droid.


"Mind control?" asks the Chief of Subversion in the grey Ushanka.


"Teleportation?" asks the Generalissimo of New Men with the red cape.

"Even better!" declares the premier, "it is a bio-weapon which will smash down the Federalists' military might and send our new revolutionary society rushing into their territory like a tsunami!"

A silence follows. Finally, the tall figure in white asks, "A bio-weapon?" There is a heap of disappointment thinly veiled by his voice. "But Premier," continues the Supreme Allied Commander, "we hit the primitives with every bug we had, and even some we had to make, in the first phases of the war! They always react too quickly to such weapons and adapt to them until they are a non-threat. They have never been worth our effort."


The Premier scales the ladder as he replies to his subordinate's earlier question.

"The weapon is not as you conceive of it, commander. Come, and behold the latest marvel of naturalist-party science!"


The Premier is greeted by a trio of his best scientists as he clears the ladder and walks onto the battlements.

"Ah, Doctor! I take it we are prepared for a display and demonstration this day?" demands the party leader.

"Yes, Premier, yes," says the lead man in the top hat, "Of course the new weapon is ready."



Behind the Premier the other lead party elites have gathered.

"The development of the weapon was named 'Project Vorare,'" says the lead scientist to them, "you will see why momentarily."


The doctor continues, "Come, fellow revolutionaries, and behold our deliverance from the Federalist obstacle to our glorious eradication of injustice!"

The little company peer below the battlements and see into the interior of the fort.


The group peer down from the walls and see a mass of strange looking minifigs scurrying around a bizarrely misshapen structure. Parts of the giant thing pulse softly and a low humming noise can be heard coming from it.

After a short while of staring the commander from before speaks. "They look like New Men, doctor."

"They do bear a resemblance, yes," begins the doctor contemplatively, "but that is where the similarities end. You see, we made them by combining the genetic coding of our New Men with the most vicious beasts we had recorded."

"So you've given us animal-men, then!" exclaims the Genralissimo in an angry growl. "I thought those had been considered years ago, and were turned down in favor of the Legionnaire clone-soldier program."

"You are half right, Generalissimo," replies the doctor calmly. He knows that besides the Premier they do not understand. Yet.

"Animal-men were considered and not pursued. Our creations bifurcated between civilian and military. New Men and Legionnaire. These creatures are none of those."

"What are they, then?"

"For now we call them Comboints. I am surprised no one has yet asked about the larger organism..."

"That thing is alive?" asks the Chief of Subversion, "It looks like plants and rock."

"It is, in fact, the female of this new species," explains the doctor."

"What?" asks the commander with surprise evident in his voice.

"Please allow me to explain. It's a true marvel of biological engineering. More complex than anything anybody has ever created in a lab. This projects dwarfs the New Men and Legionnaire programs in its ambitions..."

"JUST TELL US ALREADY! I tire of your boasting!"

"The creatures are an artificial hive-species. The smaller, mobile males are programmed to constantly do three things; eat, feed their parent female, and reproduce with it. Reproducing is all she does."

"Breed with their parent organism?" continues the commander with his skepticism, "Is that not incest? How will it deal with the problems of inbreeding?"

"That's the wondrous thing about them. The female is actually several conjoined together. Pheromones from their precise mother prevent the males from true inbreeding.

The special features don't stop there, however. When well-fed, the female gestates an adult male in a matter of hours. You are probably also wondering how these things will possibly be of use in the war. Well, they can be indirectly controlled through the use of other pheromones that we manufacture. Normally, the males will devour everything they come into contact with, but the pheromones mark things as non-edible. In function it will be similar to radar displays showing which dots are friendly and which are enemy.

Douse our personnel and materiel in the stuff, and they will not attack us. Use missiles, rockets, bombs, or infiltrators, and we can even lay it on terrain to direct the comboints' advance.

This is a shock weapon, comrades; it is designed to be dropped where it is not expected and allowed to do its damage before regular troops move in."


As the others contemplate the new 'weapon,' the premier speaks to the doctor.

"Impressive, Doctor. Now, how about that demonstration we discussed..."

"Ah yes, of course."

"Demonstration?" inquires the command droid.

"Yes!" replies the premier in excitement. "How could I resist? It must be proven that the new weapon system will function as promised."


"You see, comrades," monologues the premier, "there is a reason that the comboints' enclosure was built on the edge of one of our less-valuable settlements."


As the enclosure's gate swings open by wireless command, the premier concludes his monologue.

"I am sure you will all agree that the imminent sacrifices of these New Men will have been a worthy contribution to the revolution..."


The hapless plutonium-chest repairman has no idea what is about to happen to him...


By the time he has gotten an idea, it is far too late.


In an instant the comboints are all over him. Despite bashing one in the face with his wrench, the story is over for the repairman.


Blood-curdling shrieking erupts across town as the inhabitants, though stupid, are still intelligent enough to see mortal danger.


Most flee the ravenous horde.


Yet running proves useless against to the heightened speed of the comboints...


The comboints feast on the town's inhabitants just as quickly as they tear them apart.


Some of the townspeople fight back...


...And some fight harder than others...


...But the struggle is hopeless in the face of the comboints' bestial aggression and hunger.


High height proves a false savior...


...As does the town's little idol.


Screams mix with animal roars and the noises of creatures' feasting as the town enters its death throes.


Project Vorare's end product consumes the little town of New Men as the party elites watch from the safety of the battlements.


"It is terrifying," says the commander quietly after several minutes.

"Oh indeed!" replies a gleeful premier, "just imagine the scene when we drop one of those hives brimming with the things onto a populated Federalist area!"

"Drop, sir?"

"Yes, oh yes; we've already invented a way to 'deliver' full hives to a target location."

From under his helmet and armor the commander breaks out sweating. Violence had been his trade all his life. He was part of a special line of Legionnaire clones designed for command. Sentimentality and feeling had been driven from him genetically and by training, yet the gruesome display before him unsettles him nonetheless.

"This new weapon disturbs me, Premier."

"Hmph! On what grounds!? Do you go soft on me? The Chief of Subversion was born out in the backward Federalist society yet I do not hear him whine at what is necessary for revolution!"

"Sir, I don't know what it is about-"

"Well you better know this: if I see another sign of hesitation out of you I'll have you fed to these things and then pull your replacement out of a vat! I'd kill you now if we hadn't already invested so much in replacing your legs after your injury in the war."

"Yes, premier."

"And now, come with me. Much planning is to be done. The new weapon is to be our trump card in a coming counter offensive on Midway."
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