Zen

One Very Gay Bird 🐦🏳️‍🌈

Game dev • 3D artist • voice actor • Angel • ΘΔ


Overwhelmingly powerful bird who knows how to use a computer.

18+


Beak.Zone
beak.zone/

I want to tell the story of the greatest round of Space Station 14 I've ever played, so buckle up reader because I'm going to teach you all about the Lubricated Menace.


Before the round starts I need to introduce you to me and my friend @saafris, I join the round as Zen Moff a regular jobless passenger- I'm a royal purple moth boy in a purple jumpsuit and a black hoodie, just here to vibe.
Saaf Scalefriend is a hooded reptile woman with muted purple scales, a whitish underbelly and teal highlights, Saafris however chooses to play reporter which is a delight to the both of us because it's an uncommon role only available on a few stations, it also means they'll be responsible for the news articles that populate every players PDA, every time they make a post our PDAs will vibrate and play a little jingle (that you can customize) to let us know about a new breaking story or PSA.

So with our roles chosen and our eyes full of eager wonder about our new charge, we board the shuttle that will take us to our new home for the next hour.

Chapter selection to ease your timelines congestion

Home Sweet Lubricated Home

The shuttle docks with Space Station NT14 Core PR-448, the very first station we ever played as a group, it's somewhat familiar at this point and we're honestly just glad to be aboard anything other than the communities infamously nicknamed 'Detroit' station. After unbuckling our seats and stepping foot on board, Saaf and I are eagerly chatting about their new reporter role and the opportunities for playful role-playing it presents, eventually they head off to the reporters room to get a start on their new position and I head off to wander the halls in search of interesting stories to insert myself into.

While wandering the halls I bump into one of Saaf's own coworkers and another of the stations beloved reporters, Dusty Brightwing (? last name forgotten to protect their privacy- it was wing something..) another moth person in a dapper journalist outfit fluttering about the station talking with folks about their ongoing shifts, I linger nearby to eavesdrop on a few of their conversations before heading on my way.
Just up north past the cafeteria I spot a puddle of space lube, it's rather infamous for how absurdly slippery it is and even the most careful sure-footed person will lose their balance trying to step through it, sure enough before I've even arrived at the obstacle I watch several members of security and a medical staff member slide and tumble to the floor, cursing loudly, so I try my best to tip-toe around the whole ordeal.

I'm not really surprised, this early on in a shift accidents like this happen all the time, I figure the janitor will deal with it shortly and folks can go right back to hurrying through the halls. Later on however, having passed through the hall a few more times it became clear no one was making an effort to clean up the dangerous mess, in fact it seemed to be the only outstanding mess in the entire station as far as I could tell, my PDA jingles a familiar and excited tune- it's Saaf with the news report!

Saafris has also been aware of the growing concern surrounding this slimy mystery, the news report they've posted details the suspicious actions of one they're calling The Lubricated Menace, a figure stalking our fair station with slippery intent, likely keeping the innocent janitorial staff from their diligent craft through nefarious means...
A shudder rolls down my spine- a thing that moths have.

I close my PDA and look up to find a new mystery has sprung up around me somehow without me even noticing until now.

Kobolds in the Kafeteria

I found myself standing in the cafeteria without a single place to sit, because seated comfortably and adorably in every single chair was a gentle green kobold plushie, their tongues drooping out of their snouts in that familiar sweet blep. I can't possibly take a seat from one of them, so I pat them and head on my way, curious how they all managed to get onto the chairs by themselves.

Later I pass by again but something's not right, one of the chairs is now free.. I suppose maybe one of them had to use the little kobolds room?
Later still as my path crosses once again with the cafeteria another two seats are vacant, now I'm becoming concerned.
My PDA buzzes, I take one of the empty seats and pull up Saaf's newest article.

SUICIDE BY SASHIMI
A poisoning?? A failure of the chef?? People aboard our fair and kind station have fallen gravely ill through some awful toxic meals, Saaf heroically asks bold questions and sexily points fingers. They promise to get to the bottom of this dangerous food stuff mystery.

What a bold and innovative writer, I'm a moth so I can't eat sushi but I feel safer knowing Saafris is on the case and ready to write a hit piece about a chef who is almost certainly just doing their best- it's the kind of reckless journalism our station deserves.

I look up from my PDA, wondering what rice tastes like, when I catch a glimpse of someone running away from the cafeteria, a familiar green friend stashed under their arm and yet another seat at my table empty- THE THIEF!

The Loneliest Sport

I stash my PDA back in my pockets and scramble away from the table, whoever this is they're not getting away with this, these kobolds were just enjoying their pretend meals the atmosphere and- oh no, the thief rounds a corner sharply and I lose sight of them for a moment. I burst out from around the corner and throw open the doors to... the boxing rink? The thief is kneeling behind the rink on the other side of the room, this seems to have been their destination although I'm confused, I was expecting a longer chase and a more disquieting reveal. The thief stands up, climbs into the rink and squares up with an unusual opponent, a potted cherry blossom tree?

I awkwardly shuffle over to the seats, which I can now see are all full of plush spectators, the kobolds from the cafeteria are neatly arranged in their seats to watch the match. "They forgot to hire another boxer.." the thief says to me in a what-can-you-do tone, pulling my attention up from bewilderment.
It's easier to make out the details of the man now, a teal slime person stands in those familiar looking boxing shorts squared up with the cherry blossom tree, striking red boxing gloves on his hands and a hopeful look on his face, he turns his attention away from me and back to the main event.

A few people notice us from the hall and the previous commotion and enter the room, I recognize a few of them, the stations own detective whose name I never learned and Saaf taking a short break during their investigations to witness a classic sport.

I sit with the kobolds, and remember that even kobolds enjoy blood sport and I can't help but feel guilty for my snap judgements and selfishness, I resolve to give all thieves the benefit of the doubt from now on.

"I'll fight you." a gruff voice says, pulling me out of my undercooked life lesson. It's the detective to the boxer, removing his coat and slipping on a pair of ocean-blue boxing gloves. Myself and others give an approving cheer, the cherry blossom tree is reduced to twigs and the boxer makes his way to his corner.

Several of us awkwardly try to give the countdown and none of us stop for the others but eventually we all land on 3-2-1 FIGHT, strangely in unison. The fight commences and it's a flurry of punches and colours in the center of the rink, both men dodging and weaving as much as you can in a top-down game, the sound of a punch swung wide and followed up by a meaty thud as another connects, the boxer staggers and falls.
The detective does a lap around the rink, and the boxer stands slowly, "My one pride.." he says with hideous shame written on his gelatinous face, the detective tosses his blue gloves on the floor, steps out of the rink, collects his coat, walks out lighting a cigarette and leaving wordlessly, we're all in disbelief.
The boxer begins boxing himself in a display of his tragic loss of purpose.

Who Killed The Chef?

No one, the chef is fine- my PDA jingles it's familiar tune, Saaf! This new article details the dangers of raw fish, with an exquisite exposé on The Sparkling Cow Diner and a backhanded compliment to the kitchens acceptable hygiene. An interview with the chef reveals that no, the poisoning was not intentional and in fact some things just weren't meant to be eaten, phew- It looks like while this wasn't the work of the Lubricated Menace we can never let our guard down for a moment.

Relieved, I tuck my PDA back into my pocket and make my way back to the cafeteria to vibe with the kobolds, I'm nearly to my seat when an alarm sounds and distant gunshots echo down the hallway, shattering my brief peace. I take off in a dead sprint toward the sounds- clearly the smart thing to do in this situation.
I see people gathering near the Security wing, I rush over, hearing more gunshots arriving just in time to get a glimpse through the reinforced glass of the security staff in a desperate fight with a highly armored squad of Nukies, Nuclear operatives whose sole purpose is to retrieve the nuclear activation codes and disc from the Station Captain and obliterate our home.

Security is losing, and fast, a crowd is gathering around me to watch the violence unfold until eventually we see the last security officer fall, several armed Nukies taunt the crowd from behind the glass and one even breaks down the doors and fires into the crowd, we all scatter screaming (there's a dedicated scream button on your hotbar for exactly these times), somehow I'm able to break from the terror but I can still clearly hear gunshots behind me, I toss myself into a nearby maintenance corridor and hurriedly block the door, tucked into a dark corner is a chest freezer so I pop open its lid, climb inside and close myself in it hoping beyond hope that they didn't see me duck in here.

I can still hear screaming, gunshots, the jingling of shell casings rattling to the floor, less and less footsteps, less and less screams, the Nukies are slaughtering us..

The News Never Dies

Cold, alone, and terrified, I'm still hearing the occasional scream, still hearing feet kicking shell casings around, power in the station has become extremely intermittent even the emergency lights in the corridor outside my freezer aren't working any more. My PDA jingles shattering the uneasy silence and helpfully giving away my hiding spot, I panic and fumble for it in my pockets until I'm able to produce it and hurry to the ringtone page to set it to something quieter.

Wait, that was another article by Saaf! They're still reporting, they're documenting the horror live as it unfolds, bravely sneaking around the maintenance corridors to report on the whereabouts of our unwelcome guests, speculating on how the Lubricated Menace connects to it all, and then very very bravely hiding in their office again. The article is a much needed morale boost, eagerly reminding everyone to stay sexy and sure enough I had almost neglected my duties.

The communication radio in my ear buzzes, most comms chatter has been chaotic noise to this point and I've tuned most of it out, however this time I recognize a voice, despite it's gasping role-played struggling I clearly hear Dusty Brightwing Saaf's co-reporter, they sound like they're in bad shape. "G-g-got.. S-shot, augh." their last words, my heart sinks.

Footsteps..
Someone is in the corridor, but I can't see anything from my chest freezer, I tuck my PDA away quietly and listen intently. The footsteps are slow, careful, getting louder- they're just outside the freezer now and I'm holding my breath in real life waiting for death.

The latch lifts, the hinge creeks- a flashlight blinds me for a moment until my eyes adjust to the shine of a bulky meat cleaver gripped overhead, I scream and scramble down the corridor past the strange knife-wielding stranger and run for my life "WAIT!" a hushed voice calls out and I hesitantly turn around, wide-eyed.
It's the chef, a light blue slime lady, cleaver in hand, blood stained apron, though I can't be sure if the stains are from recent events or just her line of work, I walk over slowly, somewhat embarrassed. "I need your help.." she admits in a whisper, reluctantly I agree and follow her down the corridor.

Hold This Cow

"What." I respond, genuinely confused wondering what good this is going to do us.

"Just for a second, I need to get something" she explains to me.
Still stunned, I'm sat in the back of the walk-in freezer she's led us to. She steps out of the freezer toward the diner but returns a few short moments later with a wheel-y chair, she helps me hoist the cow onto it and buckle it in.
"Can't just abandon the diner's namesake.." she mumbles while we strap the cow to an office chair.

It's quiet for a while after that we're just sitting in the freezer waiting for anything to happen, the station has fully lost power and it's been a long while since my PDAs news alert went off. After what feels like hours, the chef- whose name I forgot to ask in all the panic, finally says something, meekly.
"I think I got someone killed.."
I look up, not sure how to respond.
"When they started shooting, they shot the person next to me, I didn't even pull him to safety, I just ran.. He was still crawling when I left him.."
I'd have probably done the same thing, I'm realizing the depths of our cowardice in this moment but all I can offer is empty encouragement "At least you're still alive, right? I would have stayed in that chest freezer if you didn't find me."
She doesn't respond immediately, instead another long silence passes.

By now we're both wondering where the Nukies have gone, the silence has become less hostile, eventually she speaks up again "Do you think we should see if the coast is clear?" I nod, "It's probably safer than staying here." I respond, admittedly feeling anxious not knowing what's happening outside.
"I have an EVA suit stashed in a locker on the way, just in case." she heads for the back door of the freezer, opening it and peering outside.
@Trashbang hears me narrating this in real-time and makes a joke over Discord voice about how the chef is gonna give us the locker code and leave it in a voice recorded message in the diner for the protagonist of a modern FPS to find- and she's right, so my moth though terrified, quietly wonders what to himself his locker code would be and what kinds of environmental storytelling items would be stashed away there.

We carefully make our way down the maintenance corridor one more time, picking up the chef's EVA suit and making a cautious exit, but not before spotting the man the chef had left behind, a man I recognized immediately despite the many bullet holes in him. The boxer, laid in a heap against the wall, I bowed my head and exited the corridor.

The News Almost Just Died

We eventually arrive back at that familiar cafeteria I spent so much time in early in the shift, luckily it looked like all the kobolds had managed to escape to safety, emergency lights were blaring, alarms diligently still announcing the danger, though not a soul in sight, blood, glass, bullet casing, the place was thoroughly turned over, but we were alone. We moved in the direction of the evac dock, though no evacuation had been announced, our legs moved through sheer role-played adrenaline and hope.

Not long into our trip and we hear banging and loud crashing coming from the reporters office, we peek in carefully through the door in time to see Saaf Scalefriend bust down a wall holding a battered wrench.
"Oh my god you're still alive!!" I shout to Saaf, the chef and I hurry into the office and huddle around an exhausted wrench-wielding Saafris, we commiserate and rest for a moment while the chef and Saaf get reacquainted, Saafris explains that when the power went out the automatic doors had sealed them into their reporting studio, they were preparing an emergency final bulletin in case something happened to them but they managed to get free, declaring that they would continue reporting this tragic incident.

Just then we spot the beams of flashlights from over the office desk, movement and lots of it, just from our spot on the office floor we can see at least 4 or 5 people, heavily armored coming our direction fast, preparing for the worst we head for the door.
The group finally spots us and we manage to get a better look at them- it's Dusty Brightwing! and a whole lot of survivors, our two groups join up in Saafris' office and we exchange brief stories, apparently Dusty was rescued by a small group of survivors holed up in the science wing, many of them managed to get their hands on armor and supplies from Cargo and were now better equipped than ever to look for other survivors.
So we began discussing a plan of rescuing the remaining people from the science wing when we're suddenly interrupted by a loud station-wide announcement "The evac shuttle has docked at the west dock, please proceed to evacuation immediately."

"The Nukies can't find the captain." Dusty explains in a hurry, "Without his access codes they can't activate their nuke, there's still time to rescue whoever is left in science." our group agrees to split up, and to take those without armor to evac immediately while the rest try to round up survivors.

Superior Strategy

On our way to the evac shuttle we lost track of the chef, despite their lack of armor they were determined to make up for their earlier cowardice and save as many as they could, and split off to head to science with the more armored survivors. Myself and the small group we had finally stepped onto the evac shuttle, trembling and certain the Nukies would come to cut off our exit, but after a while of no commotion we began to wonder.

Comms was a-buzz about Dusty and the armored survivors, everyone was making it back to the evac in one piece, we even reunited with the chef and their office-chair cow, shortly after everyone was safe inside the shuttle, the doors sealed and the warp drive spun up.

The out-of-character chat exploded, the Nukies had been defeated, they were bewildered, where the hell was the Captain that whole time?

Hiding

In an unpowered trash receptacle.


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