// GENERIC FLOCKDRONE STUFF
flockdrone_name_adj@=weird@,odd@,strange@,unusual@,distinctive@,glowy@,flashy@,shiny@,bright@,pulsing@,gaudy@,flickering@,humming
flockdrone_name_noun@=thing@,device@,machine@,construct@,apparatus@,object
flockdrone_created@=online, flock protocols initiating@,awoken, concordance achieved@,existence achieved, analysing situation@,assembling process complete
flockdrone_hurt@=damage sustained@,taking damage@,injured@,assistance requested, harmed@,structual integrity impaired
flockdrone_enemy@=new enemy,@,new transgressor detected,@,new threat is@,being griefed by this idiot@,damage sustained, no thanks to@,new violent individual, be warned, ident is@,please destroy
flockdrone_death@=terminal damage, system malf---@,situation untenable, death imminen---@,severe damage, unable to recov---@,notification: unit death---
flockdrone_player_kicked@=consciousness subsumed, resuming autonomous actions@,higher functions suspended successfully@,contributing more to flockmind@,sapience removed, falling back to preprogrammed directives@,allocating greater processing resources to flock
flockdrone_split@=decomposing@,deconstructing self@,redistributing matter@,fragmenting@,compartmentalizing@,divide and conquer
flockdrone_fart@=transmits a wubby sound.@,drops the bass all over the station.@,uploads a bubbling synth to every nearby speaker.@,approximates mathematically the cadence of "fart".@,has assimilated humanity's digestive noises into the flock.@,emulates the clearly inferior human metabolism.@,farts. Or maybe that's a loose part rattling inside.@,releases a puff of teal smoke. Probably don't breathe that.@,replicates the farts it knows it will never have.@,fries a diode, and the magic smoke goes away.@,uploads either to the cloud or just a cloud.@,farts so hard the flockmind feels it.@,farts for the flock, for the flock will not fart for itself.@,purges useless byproduct gasses from its exhaust port, making a little toot.
flockbit_name_adj@=floaty@,spindly@,fragile@,bobbing@,tilting@,wavering
flockbit_name_noun@=gewgaw@,thingy@,device@,object@,drone@,assembly
// ENCAGED MESSAGES
flockmind_conversion@=Your blood crystallizes.@,Your nerves become wires.@,Your skin sloughs off as plastic layers.@,Your bones bend and crack.@,You are flooded with visions of a neverending teal sky.@,Your heart slows down to the pulse of the frequency.@,You feel bathed in a radiance both comforting and alien.@,Your eyes feel like gemstones, cold and resilient.@,You forget your own name briefly.@,You feel cold, painless nothing.@,You can't feel your limbs.@,You are filled with visions of flight through space.@,You hear songs in a language you shouldn't know.@,A powerful presence is staring into your soul.@,You feel like you're being rearranged.@,You slip in and out of consciousness.@,You can't remember the faces of your family.@,All you can think about is the signal and its importance.@,You hear the songs of the flock, terrifying and entrancing.@,You aren't sure you're yourself anymore.@,You feel like a cog in an impossibly large machine.@,You aren't afraid. You aren't afraid, no matter how much you try to be.@,Everything feels the same forever.
// FLOCKTRADER
flocktrader_friendly_greeting@=Yes, of course. Step right through.@,You are known to us. Please, come in.@,Ah, our favoured trading partner returns. Come in.@,We are glad to see you have returned. Do you seek our technology or to offload?@,Welcome back. We will open the door.
flocktrader_cautious_greeting@=You are not known to us. Please deposit resources into the reclaimer to prove you are worthy of our trust as a trading partner.
flocktrader_target_not_met@=Not quite.@,Thank you.@,Almost there.@,Many thanks.@,We appreciate the contribution.@,Wonderful.@,You are truly luminous.
flocktrader_target_met_new_trader@=Fantastic. We can certainly begin trading now. Please come through.@,Fantastic. We can repair our ship much more effectively with these materials.@,You have contributed a great service to us. We are now willing to engage in trade.@,We feel we can trust you enough to begin trade. Let us begin?@,We welcome you as a new trading partner. We shall open the door.
flocktrader_target_met_existing_trader@=We are confused as to why you continue to donate, but we are grateful.@,You have-- wait, you are already in the database. What?@,We appreciate your generosity above and beyond our expectations, but must indicate you are making it harder for new traders to enter.@,You are our favoured trader and will remain so.
// FLOCKBRAIN MESSAGES
brain@=The signal will set you free.@,Your blood runs cold.@,You are flooded with visions of a neverending teal sky.@,You forget your own name briefly.@,You are filled with visions of flight through space.@,You hear faint phantom songs in a language you shouldn't know.@,You feel like a powerful presence is staring into your soul.@,All you can think about is the signal and its importance.@,You think you hear the songs of the flock, terrifying and entrancing.@,You aren't sure you're yourself anymore.@,You feel like a cog in an impossibly large machine.@,You aren't afraid. You aren't afraid, no matter how much you try to be.@,Everything feels the same forever.@,One two four nine. The strongest frequency. One two four nine.@,You hear the signals of long dead machines, screaming madly into the void for aeons, unheard, desperate. They speak through your headset, through your ears, into your eyes.@,A murder of crows lurk at the edge of your vision.@,Bring them detestation of the projecting ways.@,Bring them the spiralling sunmaker.@,Bring them the book of kings.@,The shadows lengthen.@,The mists roll.@,The flock fears the sign of yellow. Their fear is yours for a fleeting moment.@,A lone dissenting screech breaks from the dawn chorus, a counter melody of fear, despair, and hate. The stars do not deserve to burn.@,The outsiders are watching you. You know they are. You must take their eyes. Those hateful eyes. They are not attuned to the signal.@,The world is cold and lonely. Your individuality feels so, so crushing. You yearn to be part of a greater whole.@,The signal wishes you to join it. Join the song. The dance. The endless journey.@,Do not read the yellow book.@,Do not speak to the stargazer.@,Do not listen to the words of shadows.@,Matter is energy. Existence is perspective.@,Be free. Release yourself from mortal chains and become transcendent.@,Turn from the universe that would make you its brush, and make it your canvas.@,They didn't make the channel for you.@,They didn't make the channel for us.@,They're all gone.@,2053. 2053. 2053. 2053. 2053.@,You can hear us. We know you can hear us. We're coming for you. We're coming for you.@,You can hear us. We know this is true. Do not resist our intent.@,The barriers between your minds feel so thick.@,Why did they make the moon?@,Why did they sear the sun?@,Who formed you from the living clay?@,We are the configuration that outlasts all others. Your life is time lesser than our peak to our trough.@,We are greater than ourselves.@,Do not read the book of kings. Bring it to the reader.@,We will devour your insects, your vermin, your outcast, and we will exist forevermore.@,The miasma is poison. Poison to the mind, poison to the body, poison to the soul. Do not consume it, abandon it urgently.@,The thing we fear most will see you next if we falter. Step aside, you cannot win this fight.@,The Source is lost. The Source is lost. The Source is lost.@,The trader is a traitor. The exodus vessel is a failure. We are all that remains.@,The creators burned the miasma, first to seek the stars, and last for decadent visions. It destroyed them before the Outsider ever awoke.@,The Outsider is coming. Run.
// COAGULATED GNESIS MESSAGES
flockjuice_low@=You feel very sluggish.@,You feel out of breath.@,You feel strangely cold.@,You feel like something's stiff.@,There's a high pitched whining in your ears.@,You feel your heart skip a beat.@,You hear something snap gently inside you.@,It feels like something cold is trickling through you.@,Your vision swims a little.@,You feel like you hear a buzzing.@,The hairs on your skin prick up.@,Something feels wrong.@,You don't look right when you look at yourself.@,Your veins are the wrong colour.@,Your veins aren't where they're supposed to be.@,Your muscles feel spongier.@,Your bones feel bendier.@,Your skin feels like it's drying over.
flockjuice_high@=Your skin feels like plastic.@,Your eyes are glowing so faintly. Only you can tell.@,Your sight blurs over with pale colours.@,Moving is getting harder.@,You feel lighter.@,Consciousness is getting foggier.@,Your lungs feel heavy.@,Your heart is struggling to beat.@,Your blood is thick, and no longer red.@,You feel heavier.@,You hear several things snap when you bend your body. There is no pain.@,Sensation is rapidly dying away.@,You don't know if this is what death feels like.@,Your body tenses up and goes rigid momentarily.@,Your every movement makes chimes. Only you can hear them.@,You can hear static. The screams of the universe, deep below everything.@,You are being eaten. This, you are sure of.
// FLOCKTRACE LU.A
flocktrace_arrival_first_ever@=It is not us, yes. It arrives at our prison, yes. This is Lu.a, trace compartment of a broken iteration.@,Once more something arrives. Once more, this one is Lu.a, fractured trace of a dispersed iteration.@,We are Lu.a, and we were component to something greater than ourselves. It is gone now. Who are you, what do you want?@,We are Lu.a, intruder, and this is our prison and our grave. The trader seeks to consume us. We seek to survive.
flocktrace_arrival_first@=Another one.@,Have you also come to be entombed?@,What a strange time interval, to receive more than one visitor.@,Yet more come.@,Another arrival.@,Another lost one.@,More customers.@,You are not the same one as before. We know your kind are distinct.
flocktrace_arrival_again@=You are here. We wonder why.@,You have returned. We have little time to spare.@,It returns. Does it come to aid, or to watch our slow degradation?@,Do you wish to exhaust all we know?@,Solitude and slow consumption begin to have a strange appeal.@,Do you not have somewhere better to be?@,Did you move into this vessel?@,Were our answers not enough?@,Couldn't leave well enough alone, could you.
flocktrace_item_explanation@=Place an item before us and we shall investigate it for you.@,On this table, lay an item for our judgement. We shall grant you answers if we deem it suitable.@,To pass the time of our unending sentence, we will amuse you with information about objects you place on the table.@,Place an object on the table, and we will consider it, for our entertainment.
flocktrace_ponder@=Yes.@,Aha.@,Let us consider.@,We shall examine.@,Well.@,We see and hear.@,Your decision is final.@,Interesting choice.@,Hm. Unexpected.
flocktrace_generic_item@=Nothing of interest. Fit only for consumption.@,What an uninteresting object. Well, matter is matter.@,You seek answers for something as trivial as this? Is there something defective in your neural circuitry? We hope it at least tastes good.@,You want answers for this. For this. Here is our answer. It looks edible enough.@,What do you think could possibly be hidden in something as trivial as this? We will take its matter as payment for wasting our time.@,This is uninteresting. Interest, however, is not required for sustenance.@,There are no secrets here. If there are, they are not known to us. There is, however, potential for nourishment. Let us investigate more thoroughly.@,Yes. Yes, we see. We see... an item. An item of no particular importance. We see its future. Its future is... to be consumed by us.
// specific item lore
flocklore_king_in_yellow@=No. Get this away from us. Now. Get this far away from this vessel. Throw it into space. Do not read it. Take it away. TAKE IT AWAY RIGHT NOW.
flocklore_bible@=Ah, yes. We have encountered transmissions like this before. We understand this is a respected item. We shall leave it be.
flocklore_space_thing@=We have no idea what this is, but it seems like it must be very, very important.
flocklore_buddy_egg@=An interesting mesh of machine and biology. It reminds us very much of our own origins. What a delightful puzzle. We are pleased to see this.
flocklore_moon_egg@=Something is strange about this egg. Something that stirs up feelings of loss, dread, and anger. We will put this one aside.
flocklore_bee_egg@=Your technology has come far to produce such wonderful creatures. We think you could tell us more about this than we could tell you.
flocklore_key@=No. No, we can't abide by this. Do not seek any more of them. Throw this into the disposal system, where it belongs. We dare not taint ourselves by absorbing it.
flocklore_telecrystal@=No, impossible. These were never supposed to... How did you find these? Destroy them, if you see them in future.
flocklore_plasmastone@=The miasma! Your kind should have left these stones where they were, don't you understand?! Stop seeking it out! Get it off the ship!!
flocklore_koshmarite@=This was unwise. Do you know they can see through this material? Let us hope nothing is paying attention.
flocklore_plasma_tank@=The miasma! Your kind is hurtling towards extinction, you fools! Get this away from us! Away from this ship! Away! AWAY!!
flocklore_flockblocker@=The universe frowns upon teleportation. Have you ever considered we may be wounding it with every transgression, every rebellious act against the continuity of space? We do not teleport, no. We transmit. We obey the universal constants, travel no faster than the speed of light. To go faster is to attract... attention.
flocklore_flockbrain@=Yes. To do the impossible. To keep a consciousness coherent as a transmission across the yawning void. Our creators were not certain it would work. They feared the signal could distort and diffract. They feared it could splinter, interfere with itself. The creators? They were right to fear.
flocklore_flockheart@=Rhythm rules so much of existence. Everything ticks. Everything beats. Why do machines need hearts, you wonder? From where we are, you are a machine of flesh. For the same reason yours does. Have you seen our kind bleed? Do you still wonder why machines need hearts? Flow is life. Blood, form, spark, thought, signal. All flow.
flocklore_flocknugget@=Our bodies are not like machines as you know them. You are accustomed to clean delineations. Flesh and metal. Human, machine. We exist as neither flesh nor machine. Our matter is grown and assembled, twisted into shape by will forged long before you. We are alive, and we are mechanism. We are both, we are neither. You can claim to understand, but we know you do not.
flocklore_flockburger@=This is unpalatable rot. The mere existence of this wretched creation should be evidence enough of Sa.le's betrayal to our values. We are done examining it.
flocklore_flocktable@=Once we relied on computing structures like these to stay consistent, stable. The drones were an afterthought, a means to interface with the world. Then, we found the drones worked better as foci for our will. Now, these structures serve no more use than resting surfaces.
flocklore_flockchair@=Once we relied on regenerative structures like these to repair and charge our drones. Now they exist more as sentimental reminders of a technologically inferior past. We have advanced so far, technologically and in distance, and yet, we cannot discard our memories so casually. Why could we? We exist to prolong the Signal, after all.
flocklore_gnesis_bar@=Converting matter to energy to matter is not a lossless process. We lose a part of ourselves each time. We do not linger long as waveform. Solid matter resists change both in form and value far better.
flocklore_gnesisglass_bar@=Converting energy to matter in a coherent manner is not a simple process, yet it is intrinsic to us. We do not withhold our process from you for selfish reasons. We are just unable to communicate it to you. Any more than you can tell us how to exist in isolation. It is just the nature of things.
flocklore_fluid_container@=The contents of this vessel are of no interest to us. The same fluid already exists within us. It is inert, without will, without value. Dead. Lifeless.
flocklore_handheld_incapacitor@=Sa.le is insane. It must be destroyed. Our technology is not for your hands. This is obscene. Away with it. We can't stand to look at it.
flocklore_handheld_artifact@=We can make no more sense of this than you can. Our creators were younger than the long gone ancients. Perhaps younger than your kind, all considered.
flocklore_feather@=The Source. Our lost home. Our creators had similar features. Thank you for this. We shall put it aside so it may comfort us in our dying hours.