2013.05.25 - GameMods

<< Goddamn it! >> ZeroGlyph indignantly cries out, brandishing a large electronic ball between his hands. Clad in robes, wearing a large mask designed to protect him from the whirling red sand that threatened to clog up his works, ZeroGlyph turns towards the opposing warrior opposite... 
"Aw no!" Doug Ramsey curses, as he adjusts his virtual reality goggles off him without yanking the wires of his gloves. He glowers as the opposing warrior de-razzes him, frowning at the electronics as though they'd betrayed him, and he has to sit and wait for re-spawn. "I -thought- I'd improved the response time already... but that ... that -bastard- keeps beating me to the punch.
Glowering at the helmet, Doug peers at the wires again, adjusting it for the game. It'd been an experiment, trying to adapt some of the Danger Room hardware to the purpose of instantly-responding to his thoughts and movements rather than having to rely constantly on manual boarding. It'd been going great, especially since he'd hit on the idea of trying it on one of the Sci-Fi/Military Strategic MMORGs out there. 
He'd been blowing past the competition, until -someone- suddenly showed drastic improvement and started proceeding to kick his butt over and over again... 
Putting on his helmet once again, Doug re-enters. 
<< Hey, good game, >> ZeroGlyph greets. << Your reflexes are -insane-. What mods are you using? >> 
<< Thanks, >> RollingThunder replies, 'his' voice a far cry from his player's thanks to Barbara's highly advanced voice changer software. (Not just for Oracles, kids!) << Just a couple of switchers and macropads I cooked up myself. You're no slouch, yourself. You code your own or download a suite? >> The DuneRoller's armour is scratched up and his plasma cannon still smokes, but the red warflare is fading from his digitized faceplate into a more sedate blue. 
Barbara has a feeling ZG cooks up his own, too. What she finds interesting is that she can only track him back so far, because the mods are routing through some pretty heavily guarded no-go zones she's not really noticed before now. 
She has her own VR rig set up, a testing unit, to be sure, but one that's serves her purposes -- so far, at least. At the very least, it let her shut down ZG's winning streak. 
<< Coded, mostly... >> 
Doug wasn't about to -admit- to using VR, not when he was on the verge of sorting out -something- that might actually change the way the Internet was used. Still a lot of things to work out. 
<< Wait... switchers and micropads? >> ZeroGlyph brandishes his gun, before placing it on his shoulders, somehow managing to get the avatar to look relaxed. Yeah, hell of a mod there. << Ahhh, you've been -playing- with something more than a keyboard and a mouse too? That'd explain a lot. >> Amusement settles into his voice, rather than rage at being caught cheating. << It was a fun experiment, to see if it was possible. So, you've been poking around with hardware mods! >> 
<< What decent gamer doesn't use peripherals to their full advantage? >> RT says casually, his own head cocking as he resheathes his weapons and resets his non-combat traits. He plays it down, in case comchat is being logged, as sometimes happens. << Digital switches, keyed macropads -- all they do is fire off useful command sequences. >> In this case, a whole lot of them... ones that mess with the base server responses and change what the machine at the far end thinks. So, yes. RT's as guilty as ZG. 
Barbara cants her own head as she listens to ZG's response. Her lips purse. 
<< You often use games to run experiments? >> RT queries lightly.
<< That's a -lot- of command sequences to be firing off to get your avatar to be smooth. Plus, I'm guessing, to get your avatar to make some of these moves, you had to adjust the -software- code to go with the hardware. Not bad, not bad. >> 
The voice sounded a bit young, but the amusement in his voice is close to genuine pleasure at having found out that he wasn't the -only- one using it as an experiment. << Sure. It's the best way to test responses - you've got to have instant response to survive, and the better the equipment, the better I can respond instantly. So you're doing the same? >> 
The voice seems quizzical, and while ZeroGlyph is talking to RollingThunder, Doug, struck by curiousity, removes one glove, tucking it under an arm to make it look like his avatar is standing there with gun to shoulder. 
There's a brief glance at his computer monitor. No recent attempts to poke at his account. Let's try a white ICE program to do a bit of poking around at RollingThunder, shall we? Nothing deeply intrusive, just a bit of pinging. 
Barbara keys up some voice analyzer software on ZG's conversation, to verify the stressors in his voice -- the indication of pleasure versus an elaborate fishing scheme. Paranoid much? Yes. Especially after Grodd's counter-attack the other day. But the gamer seems on the level. 
<< Neither one of us is using standard emote animation, >> RT notes, moving toward a barrier crate and leaning back against it. << It's a good bet we may be studying similar applications. >>
The wheelchair bound redhead glances to a monitor as the ping bounces off of one of her remote ghost locations, putting RT somewhere in Delaware, rather than NJ. 
<< So, what's your gig? Hobbyist or professional? >>
<< Somewhere in between, I guess, >> ZeroGlyph responds, as Doug regards the ping going off to Delaware. Which might be believable, or might not be. It all depended, really, on -how- good the hub intercept was. Because usually, the most direct routes were taken. 
Putting on a quick analysis of the ping route to see if it actually -was- the optimal route, or if it'd been diverted, Doug grins. Really good hackers were always a challenge to figure out. Hmmm. 
ZeroGlyph's posture hadn't shifted for a bit, and Doug quickly corrects that as he follows it up with a question. << Let's just say that it's not quite professional, but it's not quite hobbyist. It's... >> Doug leans back, considering the wording, before grinning. << Exploring new frontiers. Go where no one has gone before. >>
RollingThunder is still for a bit, as Barbara echoes a false trail between Delaware and the silicon valley location of the game servers for ZG's ICE program to follow. She taps her chin lightly with the tip of a knuckle as she evaluates the readings she herself gets back from him. 
<< Academic, then, >> RT concludes. << A researcher. >> There's no reproach in his voice at all. He falls into much the same category, after all. 
<< You still in school or post grad? >> 
The return readings Babs is getting would probably amuse her - it seemed like whoever ZeroGlyph was, he was relying on software to obscure the details. With more time, she might be able to trace it back. For the present, though, it -appeared- that the player was practically sitting on top of the servers... which would be patiently ridiculous because it would mean he could -have- accessed her account directly rather than trace her routes, and no such attempts had been made. 
<< Never finished school, but I've graduated with equivalency courses, >> ZeroGlyph replies, as the gun in his hand razzles out, replaced by one of the game's silly goof-toys, a riflelock gun that would take forever to load. One shot was fired off into the distance, and then turned around to indicate empty-handed weapon. << I just wanted to see if I could try making the internet work better for me. There's only so much I can do before my thoughts get ahead of my fingers. So I'm trying to, well... >> 
The voice sounds abashed. << Ever seen Tron? >> 
Even Barbara's game account info is nothing more than a shell. This is a woman who leaves nothing to chance and very, very little out in public. Not someone vulnerable to ID theft, that's for sure. When ZG starts talking about Tron, her brow arches. She starts a somewhat more serious trace of connection. 
<< So, who are you? Jeff Bridges or Bruce Boxleitner? >> RT asks dryly. Because, really... what hacker hasn't seen Tron? A beat. << Or do you fancy youself Gerret Hedlund, instead? >> Well, there is a sequel, after all. 
Doug's game account info belonged to a dead man, if Barbara cared to dig that far. Then again, considering the dead man in question was young Douglas Ramsey, who -would- suspect a dead man to be playing as himself? Unless, of course, she did some more digging, and traced it to -stonewall/redact-, and triggered a warning... in which case she might want to intercept that quickly before it got back to whoever put that in there (in this case, Doug himself.) 
<< Jeff Bridges, for sure. Though I wouldn't mind being Bruce Boxleitner either. >> The boyish tone is amused. << So, are we just going to be tossing identity discs at each other? Or do we at least turn one card up before showing our hands? >> 
Barbara at least gets down as far as the account name. Verifying the background takes only a few seconds more. That the name comes up as deceased? That's interesting. She debates how far to pursue it. But, let's face it: If she has one flaw, it's her curiosity. She can't leave things well enough alone. She likes to know everything. Thus, it's inevitable she'll eventually it that stonewall, and then have to send out a scrambler to intercept and redirect that signal. Of course, she is very good at this sort of thing. 
<< Are we tossing identity disks? >> RT laughs. << I was just asking questions about a fellow gearhead. I mean, c'mon. Don't tell me you haven't modded that single-shot way up beyond specs. >> Barbara'll lay money down on that bet.
The warning that someone -had- tried to access Doug's deceased records at least warns him that someone -did- just try and access it. And he would have laid wagers down on the bet that it -was- RT. Well, if he ever traced it to Douglas Ramsey, former student at the Xavier Institute, and recognized the various barriers as being SHIELD-coded, RollingThunder'd have some interesting ponderings to do. Especially since Doug Ramsey was supposed to be -dead-. 
ZeroGlyph glances off to the side for a moment, then turns his helmeted feature, blue-flare screen reflecting for a moment and shakes his head. << Well, unless I'm not mistakened, -one- identity disc just bounced off. And I know for a fact that one of mine just bounced off yours, and I'm pretty certain that -you-'re not hailing from Delaware, so... >> The riflelock is waved in the air. << So, we've both modded it up -way- beyond specs. I know what I'm doing with -mine-, though, and it's exactly as I told you. If you're -that- good, and you're really a friend, how about this for a challenge...? You find me, and we'll talk. But I'm sure you already know that if you're not on the up-and-up, my friends aren't going to be happy. >>
SHIELD, huh? 
Barbara spares the feedback info on her trace a brief glance. She opens Oracle's tunnel into the SHIELD DB and calls up files on Mr. Ramsey. Not such a dead man, after all... 
Well, that's SHIELD for you. 
RT gives a remarkably eloquent shrug for a bunch of emote-controlled pixels. << Your friends don't really scare me. >> he says casually. The blue glow of his faceplate's eyes seems like it flickers an instant or two between cyan and green, but that's the only visible in-game response. << So, you're on. >> 
His official file notes him as being currently affiliated with the X-Men. Now, there's a shadowy group, if ever Barbara saw one. She's not quite sure what to make of them. News reports are in equal parts inflamatory, defamatory, and laudatory. Surveillance footage she has on file, however, suggests they're not inclined to hit civilian targets. But, there's also a fair amount of bloodshed where they turn up. Certainly, the government isn't thrilled with them. Thing is, Barbara's not sure she can blame them for fighting against death machines like the Sentinels -- which she doesn't trust, either -- or taking on regimes that treat mutants the way Hitler treated Jews seventy years ago. So... The jury's still out, in her mind, as to whether or not they're a group that can be trusted. 
Of more importance, however, is Ramsey, and his immediate character. Not to mention his immediate location. And, given her system, it really doesn't take her that long to pinpoint him in Westchester. 
A pop up box appears on his screen with the longitude and latitude of the mansion displayed across it and nothing more. 
<< Ding dong. >>
ZeroGlyph is quiet for a time, and it's probably clear to Babs that something's happening, at least. Perhaps because the programs she used were -still- based in computer language, and Doug Ramsey -translated- languages. 
In order for the intruding program to -find- information, it had to listen... 
... and so Doug Ramsey talked to it, quickly and effeciently. Not to reprogram it, for it would be quite rude, but to return a simple message in a popup screen: 
<< Who's there? >> 
No longitude, no latitude, no location, just a simple return message. 
<< I think we can agree, I found you, >> RT says, now, Oracle's systems ensuring that all the return pop-up contained was nothing more than a simple response command. << But I'm also thinking I don't really feel much like talking on an open game, do you? >> 
Barbara taps a few keys and sets up the hardened partition into which she most recently directed Tony Stark's JARVIS AI, and skins her Oracle avatar with RollingThunder's DuneRoller appearance. No sense giving away all her secrets. 
<< I'm sending you some alternate login information, >> RT says. He lifts his arm and gives a jaunty salute -- a clearly sophisticated adaptation of the normal game emote. << I'll meet you there. >> The game avatar then flickers out of existence. 
<< On it, >> ZeroGlyph replies, logging off the game servers. 
When Doug logs on once again, it's a fairly sophisiscated avatar - a representation of Doug himself, clad in the black-and-gold X-men uniform he wears. Not too muscular, but a fit man still bearing traces of recent youth in a black outfit interlaced with gold circuitry. << Cypher at your service. So let me guess, I've just run into the Ghost in the Shell? >> 
<< 'Ghost' works. >> the DuneRoller avatar replies with an easy shrug. If there's a big difference between this look and the game skin, it's that the polygonal artefacts are gone and the animation is smooth and natural. Indeed, the avatar looks more like a 'real' person than a computer character, and thus is easily enough Cypher's equal. << Pleasure to meet you, Cypher. >> The voice changing software still uses RT's voice from the game. << Looks like you've got a fairly sophisticated interface. >> 
<< So do you, >> Cypher replies as he regards the room curiously. << Since you found me, I take it you -do- have some sort of access to SHIELD, and either you're on the up and up, in which case I'm not going to worry, or you're not, in which case I at least owe SHIELD something in figuring out who you are. >> 
The young man doesn't seem terribly nervous about being -there-, at the least, as he seems to have closed the cyberdoor equivalent behind him, and was leaning against it. Interesting how he seems to have translated the avatar action in the virtual reality world into something similar. Then again, it was probably the same for Oracle, wasn't it?
<< SHIELD knows me, >> Ghost replies, the voice sounding fairly reassuring. << I've worked with them a couple of times. >> In a manner of speaking. He doesn't go into details. << We help each other. >> So, theoretically, he's on the up-and-up. << Agent Coulson and I have an undrstanding. >>
Given that Barbara's legs don't move in the real world, however, having an avatar that walks around, for her, requires a little bit more handwaving than it might for others. Her haptic interface has to be that much more sophisticated. 
<< Well then, there's nothing to fear, is there? >> Cypher grins, leaning back against the cyberdoor. << Though I'm not working for SHIELD these days. But then again, you knew that. And since you found me, clearly you're aware I'm not dead. I'd very much like to -not- return to that state, so I've been working on ways to be... well, useful. >> 
If Ghost's DuneRoller mask had face rather than a mask, his eyebrow might arch. Barbara's certainly does. << Is there danger of you returning to that state should you not prove useful? Are your companions that mercenary? >> Maybe Oracle will have to rethink her position on the X-Men. << Your cyber interface, I'm guessing, is your utility. It's a nice trick. >>
<< Oh no, they're not mercenaries. They -are- my friends, though... but I died once when I, uh, got in the way of a bullet, saving a friend's life. SHIELD helped me get back on my feet. >> Cypher shrugs. It took time to get adjusted to, and there -were- still questions about how he'd returned to life, but so far SHIELD hadn't had the answers. 
<< Actually, I'm a mutant. >> There's a sardonic tone in Cypher's voice now. << Though I don't exactly breath fire, shoot laser beams out of my ass, or bampf around smelling like god's mistake. I just translate languages. >> 
Barbara knows all about getting in the way of a bullet. Though, to be fair, the bullet she caught was, in fact, being aimed at her. From point-blank range. Yeah. That was fun. She pushes that thought away. 
<< Nice trick, >> Ghost repeats. << So, how's an interpreter get into VR development? >> 
<< When you can also translate -computer languages-, it's only a stone's skip away to figure out how to translate concepts into VR programs, >> Cypher replies, glancing about the simulated 'boxed' room. << Although you seem to have taken things a step further, and translated the internet into a VR room. Hell of a trick, sir. >> Polite, yet there's a tone of exuberance in his voice at having discovered something inexpressibly -neat-. 
Ghost gives another easy shrug, gesturing lightly to the box. The walls, made of green and black lines and cables, looking much like circuit boards crossed with the Star Trek holodeck, ripple and fade, the environment now appearing to be a very small grassy island in the middle of an endless ocean. << This is no different than a VR protocol found in a virtual world like SecondLife or similar. The big difference is that I have considerably more processing power and the program we're in is considerably more advanced. >>
<< Mmmm hmmm. So if you work with SHIELD sometimes, then I'm assuming you're working towards SHIELD peace-keeping missions. Anything else, Fury wouldn't likely approve. There's definitely room for improvement here... I mean, imagine if you could get out of this box and take the VR protocol with you -anywhere- you went on the Internet? >> Cypher comments, as he reaches out and puts a hand to the VR wall. If this -was- a software construct, well... then Doug would recognize this right away. 
The room has extended it's apparent confines, now that it's an island in the middle of the ocean. There's no hard wall to touch, though some ways across the virtual water, there's an invisible barrier that serves the same purpose. But, the basics of what they stand in is created via software, yes. And surrounded by a pretty heavy duty firewall that, if even partially penetrated, will cause the partition to collapse and the drive its on to be mechanically disengaged from the rest of the system. Oracle doesn't fool around with intruders. 
<< An interesting proposition, >> the host of this little pixel show says now. The scene shifts again, this time to a high-end living room with an aesthetic somewhere between traditional Japanese and cutting edge contemporary. The VR skin on Ghost's avatar flickers and changes from the DuneRoller to something less militaristic and more in keeping with the surrounds. The figure is androgynous, now, though still hooded and masked -- something of a cross between the look of Assassin's Creed and a Mass Effect Quarian.
<< By all means. Have a seat. Let's talk. >>
The trick with firewalls, at least for someone like Cypher, was convincing the firewall that he was one of -its- authorized programs. Unlike programs, at least, Doug could -adapt-, taking the subtler approach rather than the battering ram approach. But that wasn't what he was here for, and so Cypher pulls back, looking around. 
Approaching the living room and kneeling, Cypher smiles. << All right. >> 
Category:Log