LOST OCTS - Blog


Mar 27, 2057 Dear Sam, If you still have access to live updates of this place, you probably thought I was dead for the last 5 months. That's my bad, and I'm sorry. I haven't been in any kind of stable mental state for ages now, but I've been feeling on my feet long enough lately that I've caught my happy, jokey side coming back up every once in a while. Doesn't mean shit is good, because, well, you know, it isn't. Since we got kicked out of the last country we were in, I got shredded into paste by shrapnel (again), got shredded into paste by machine gun fire (also again), smashed our mole's head in like a grapefruit in front of no less than 4 people, lost all my progress on Stripes, mostly cleared up my drama with Halsey, and ran into a scorched citizen who had just been torched in a sacrificial circle. I've been wasting a majority of our hiatus from action the same way I did with you- rotting away in the medbay and overthinking. I've had ample time to befriend the new medic girl though, a doctor named Sibylle from the version of Lukas's universe that's lower poly. Much like me, she's more active at night and basically lives in the medbay, dedicating as much time as possible to treating whoever needs the help. For a good while there it was a guy who'd been skinned alive basically, whom Hera had found in a cryotube she bought, but they put him back in that recently. Apparently she has some autoimmune disease that doesn't make her privy to the whole being out and socializing thing. She's said she's, quote, "glad to have a coworker who doesn't go around spreading germs everywhere". Anyway, she's really the only person I talk to regularly since we've been holed up, so she's faced the brute of my nonsensible ramblings and paranoia. She figured I should pick up writing again, which I hadn't even really thought of since I got so paranoid about it. And I'm still paranoid about it, Octarian isn't a fringe language anymore in this group, no less than 6 people here besides me know it now. If I was fully fluent in Deepsea I'd start writing in it instead. Yeah, yeah, translators and everything means most can read this stuff anyway, but most don't care about this or me enough to. I had meant to use this place to keep myself vaguely sane by being a dump of my thoughts on our travels, but after I started hallucinating around Halsey I really felt like I didn't have even a little privacy, not even in my own head. It was a little warranted, but I'm not able to really trust anyone with my thoughts anymore. But um... I'm not dead? Yet? Some days I certainly wish I were, if my nervous tic coming back with a vengenance has anything to show for it. Things aren't looking up, and if the apocalypse hits you sometime soon... well, that probably means we failed to keep the King contained. I don't know and am deathly afraid of when this ticking timebomb will explode. Stay fresh, Mimic	Navigation - Home - Archive - Guestbook - More

Mar 27, 2057

Dear Sam,

If you still have access to live updates of this place, you probably thought I was dead for the last 5 months. That's my bad, and I'm sorry. I haven't been in any kind of stable mental state for ages now, but I've been feeling on my feet long enough lately that I've caught my happy, jokey side coming back up every once in a while.
Doesn't mean shit is good, because, well, you know, it isn't. Since we got kicked out of the last country we were in, I got shredded into paste by shrapnel (again), got shredded into paste by machine gun fire (also again), smashed our mole's head in like a grapefruit in front of no less than 4 people, lost all my progress on Stripes, mostly cleared up my drama with Halsey, and ran into a scorched citizen who had just been torched in a sacrificial circle.

I've been wasting a majority of our hiatus from action the same way I did with you- rotting away in the medbay and overthinking. I've had ample time to befriend the new medic girl though, a doctor named Sibylle from the version of Lukas's universe that's lower poly. Much like me, she's more active at night and basically lives in the medbay, dedicating as much time as possible to treating whoever needs the help. For a good while there it was a guy who'd been skinned alive basically, whom Hera had found in a cryotube she bought, but they put him back in that recently.
Apparently she has some autoimmune disease that doesn't make her privy to the whole being out and socializing thing. She's said she's, quote, "glad to have a coworker who doesn't go around spreading germs everywhere".

Anyway, she's really the only person I talk to regularly since we've been holed up, so she's faced the brute of my nonsensible ramblings and paranoia. She figured I should pick up writing again, which I hadn't even really thought of since I got so paranoid about it. And I'm still paranoid about it, Octarian isn't a fringe language anymore in this group, no less than 6 people here besides me know it now. If I was fully fluent in Deepsea I'd start writing in it instead.
Yeah, yeah, translators and everything means most can read this stuff anyway, but most don't care about this or me enough to. I had meant to use this place to keep myself vaguely sane by being a dump of my thoughts on our travels, but after I started hallucinating around Halsey I really felt like I didn't have even a little privacy, not even in my own head. It was a little warranted, but I'm not able to really trust anyone with my thoughts anymore.

But um... I'm not dead? Yet? Some days I certainly wish I were, if my nervous tic coming back with a vengenance has anything to show for it.
Things aren't looking up, and if the apocalypse hits you sometime soon... well, that probably means we failed to keep the King contained. I don't know and am deathly afraid of when this ticking timebomb will explode.

Stay fresh,

Mimic

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