LOST OCTS - Blog


Apr 21, 2056 Rogers checking a landmine in the caves. Yesterday was uneventful, mostly. We were forced out of the farm a while ago and pushed back to some place they call the "Beta Site". At least here we seem to be confident enough that we're safe to the point we've set up long-term residences in the shantytown. We have 3 more in our numbers. Ripley has found evidence of an Octarian living out here, having left all her logs behind her. She writes like an Elite, and she's probably the source of my Null. It makes me think about the initials written on its inner side. KC. I'm rotting away in here with my mind unable to produce anything to get my emotions across. This never happens. Why can't I get myself to write? Not a single note is coming to my head. I'm just playing F1sh on repeat and thinking, as I always end up doing when I'm in a mood like this. The color red is such a recurring and important one in our society, isn't it? Red military shades, Army ruby tentacles, Royal red-violet ink, Kamabo's Escape Risk marks, Dedf1sh's bracelet, the natural red hues of the Giant Pacific octopi. I think it only tracks that we're drawn to the shade. Our lost Octarian friend. I'm calling her a friend, I don't even know her. Rambles about it. I definitely think too deeply on it, connecting the color of the entity of her desire to a color of cultural significance, but I don't know where else to put it in my mind. We aren't an easily swayed people. After you have broken free of the Army or Kamabo's bonds, you aren't fond of going back to a life like that. Like Ripley and Blue, you come to abhor it, who you were and what you've done and what was done to you. But sometimes, every now and again, you wind up like me or Pistachio. There's this weird nostalgia and infatuation. I call Kamabo home and yet I live daily with the terrors it inflicted upon me. People like us are more prone to falling into the same trap we escaped. I believe that's probably where our friend is now. In the same pitfall so many of us come to suffer. You chase this sensation of a "home" you once had, so dear to your hearts, that you inevitably wind up in its claws again, or claws similar to it. Whatever is there to ease the homesickness. A Turquoise October poster in Deca Tower. Last year. Defectors always fall into their old habits. Ripley's mean streak. The ease in which I lose my touch with reality. You really can't get away from who you were. If that means bending to the right authority figure, in cases like Pistachio's, then it happens. And all you can really do to mitigate it is do your damnedest to cope with it. But without something or someone to hold onto, you might always slip a little too far. I think that's where she is now. I imagine it's a little farfetched, though. We know so little, we can only guess as to who she is and what's wrong with her. She's on some kind of psychotic break. Ripley says she might not be ex-Kamabo, but really, how else do you get your hands on a Null Armor suit? I bet she's one of the Elites that Kamabo dragged in from the Army to get them do the military side of operations. Putting the "military" into "military biotech company". Reasonably, Army Elites in Kamabo could get Nulls, working on them, wearing them, or slaying subjects. She defected, of course. She's the source of my Angries, too. Means she worked for Grizzco, for a time. I dunno. I don't know what else to do with my thoughts about this.	Navigation - Home - Archive - Guestbook

Apr 21, 2056

Rogers checking a landmine in the caves.

Yesterday was uneventful, mostly. We were forced out of the farm a while ago and pushed back to some place they call the "Beta Site". At least here we seem to be confident enough that we're safe to the point we've set up long-term residences in the shantytown. We have 3 more in our numbers.

Ripley has found evidence of an Octarian living out here, having left all her logs behind her. She writes like an Elite, and she's probably the source of my Null. It makes me think about the initials written on its inner side. KC.

I'm rotting away in here with my mind unable to produce anything to get my emotions across. This never happens. Why can't I get myself to write? Not a single note is coming to my head. I'm just playing F1sh on repeat and thinking, as I always end up doing when I'm in a mood like this.

The color red is such a recurring and important one in our society, isn't it? Red military shades, Army ruby tentacles, Royal red-violet ink, Kamabo's Escape Risk marks, Dedf1sh's bracelet, the natural red hues of the Giant Pacific octopi. I think it only tracks that we're drawn to the shade.
Our lost Octarian friend. I'm calling her a friend, I don't even know her. Rambles about it. I definitely think too deeply on it, connecting the color of the entity of her desire to a color of cultural significance, but I don't know where else to put it in my mind.

We aren't an easily swayed people. After you have broken free of the Army or Kamabo's bonds, you aren't fond of going back to a life like that. Like Ripley and Blue, you come to abhor it, who you were and what you've done and what was done to you. But sometimes, every now and again, you wind up like me or Pistachio. There's this weird nostalgia and infatuation. I call Kamabo home and yet I live daily with the terrors it inflicted upon me. People like us are more prone to falling into the same trap we escaped.
I believe that's probably where our friend is now. In the same pitfall so many of us come to suffer. You chase this sensation of a "home" you once had, so dear to your hearts, that you inevitably wind up in its claws again, or claws similar to it. Whatever is there to ease the homesickness.

A Turquoise October poster in Deca Tower. Last year.

Defectors always fall into their old habits. Ripley's mean streak. The ease in which I lose my touch with reality. You really can't get away from who you were. If that means bending to the right authority figure, in cases like Pistachio's, then it happens. And all you can really do to mitigate it is do your damnedest to cope with it. But without something or someone to hold onto, you might always slip a little too far.
I think that's where she is now.

I imagine it's a little farfetched, though. We know so little, we can only guess as to who she is and what's wrong with her. She's on some kind of psychotic break. Ripley says she might not be ex-Kamabo, but really, how else do you get your hands on a Null Armor suit?
I bet she's one of the Elites that Kamabo dragged in from the Army to get them do the military side of operations. Putting the "military" into "military biotech company". Reasonably, Army Elites in Kamabo could get Nulls, working on them, wearing them, or slaying subjects.
She defected, of course. She's the source of my Angries, too. Means she worked for Grizzco, for a time.
I dunno. I don't know what else to do with my thoughts about this.

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