GM 17's page

And so it begins...

You are a mediocre security consultant of some sort - a former bodyguard, an ex-soldier, a disgraced cop, a self-made techie, etc. You've elected to undergo extensive gene therapy and/or cybernetic modification, if not recently then perhaps as part of military/mercenary service or corporate employment before. You have some mediocre skills, maybe some experience with firearms, and perhaps some combat experience. Your background is whatever you make of it, but you've left all that behind. As a free agent, you're a very marketable product, and you think you have just found the perfect job...

You've signed a contract with the Phoenix Corporation that offers you employment should you satisfactorily complete their intensive training program. The details of the gig are fuzzy, but you know the company is unusually well respected, largely offering its services as a contractor for the United Nations Space Command (UNSC) based on Earth. You also know you'll be paid handsomely, have a good retirement package, and they don't really care how f$@!ed up your past is.

You've been transported to the Phoenix Corporation's Lattice Station orbiting the largest moon of HV Ceterni 5. You awaken from hypersleep aboard the PCV Argon, a slingshot vessel that has taken you from Earth to the farthest reaches of human-occupied space - the "Fringe." You shake off the nausea and wrenching pain as you sit up from your hypersleep pod. Your gaze is blurry at first, but eventually your eyes start to focus. Some of those around have never gone through hypersleep - the first awakening is never easy. Technicians surround one man, his body shuddering violently as he succumbs to "the shakes" - an old spacer term for the seizures that affect 1 in every 150,000 or so people. Others vomit onto the floor. At least one woman has stood up already and taken to doing yoga in the center of the cylindrical chamber. You count 40 pods in the room - the Phenix Corp recruiter said each incoming class accepted an average of only 15 recruits. The techs remove the man suffering from "the shakes," his body slumped over. You can tell from their expressions that this man might not live. Hell, he might already be dead.

39 people now.

Well shit.

A soft, female voice pipes into your earpiece. Her tone is direct and translucent, altogether too nice and subtly demanding.

Good morning. Shall we begin?

A soft hum fills your ear as your VR HUD comes online. The familiar settings of your personalized display pop to life. A videochat session appears in the bottom-left corner. Activating it shows a middle-aged woman, fair-skinned, definitely of some Asian ancestry, slick black hair pulled taut in a ponytail. She is beyond professionally dressed - the first word that comes to mind is immaculate. She appears to look at you, and addresses you again.

Shall we begin?

At this point, you are free to react as you will. You can answer the mysterious woman in the videochat, you can turn off your VR HUD, you can vomit endlessly as you recover from hypersleep. The story is in your hands.

This is my Game Master (GM) Alias.