First Contract

M.Y 41.

actinium. aluminum. americium. antimony.

Everything is prepared. The familiar litany runs through my head, calming me.

argon. arsenic. astatine. barium. berkelium.

I'm wearing my best lab coat. The one with the high collar and the gold filigree. A quick check... no chemical burns on the breast pocket... no bloodstains on the sleeves...

beryllium. bismuth. bohrium. boron.

I chance a quick look behind me, noting that I am properly framed by the wide synthglass window overlooking the territory around Ivory Tower. The golden observation domes of my laboratory-city shine in the light of Planet's two suns, and beyond them the rolling farms and burgeoning forests show the changes my people have wrought upon this world. No xenofungus in sight. Good.

I turn my attention back to the main vidscreen just in time to see it snap to life. The thought flickers through my mind that I should have rerouted the signal to a smaller 'screen as Santiago's visage towers over me on the main display.


She is just as I remember her. I am transfixed by her deep brown eyes, shining and hard like the carapace of Trypoxylus dichotomus. Suddenly my mouth is saying something.

"C-Corazón... I-"

Her voice slices through mine like a bayonet blade.

"Do not call me by my first name. I see you have survived Planetfall, Commander Zakharov. "

I clear my throat and straighten—only then realizing that I had been leaning forward towards the vidscreen. "Indeed, I have. As, unsurprisingly, have you. But..." I make a grand gesture, sweeping across my domain. "I am a Commander no longer. I now style myself Provost Zakharov of the University." I attempt the grin that my advisors tell me is closest to 'charming'.

She's not impressed. "I remain Colonel Santiago of the Spartan Federation. Nor has my intent changed: we Spartans seek only a small territory in which to survive, and the right to keep and bear arms that allow us to defend that territory. As such we have planned our landing site on a small, defensible island. But be warned: this is, in many ways, a water planet, and it can be ruled from the waves. From our fortress we command military and transport ships that can easily bypass enemy defenses, isolate their strongholds. As you, my dear Provost, have already discovered."

My wristlink reads an increase in heart rate, but I ignore it. "You are quite right, Colonel. Any enemy of the Spartan Federation would be up against the best trained, most disciplined troops on Planet. But I, of course, have no interest in such unnecessary conflict, especially with a colleague so esteemed as yourself. My followers seek only pure knowledge, in all its forms—some of which may prove quite useful to your survival efforts."

Santiago's expression does not noticeably change, but I suddenly understand better the feeling of a prey animal when a predator looks in its direction. "A most impressive display, Provost. I know how much you value research data, and would be willing to trade access to datalink files on a quid pro quo basis."

We haggle a little, trading a few minor research advances the other hasn't yet happened upon, not surprising due to our differing priorities. But my eye is on her Doctrine: Flexibility files, and hers on my Particle Impact research.

At last I make my move. "Colonel, the engineers of your Spartan armadas are beyond compare. I, however, have no need of vast fleets and mighty warships. And yet, your Foil technology could prove useful in establishing a number of deep sea labs, which would allow us to both benefit from exploring the mysteries of Planet's oceans. In exchange for access to your research, I will permit you the knowledge of one of my most important breakthroughs."

She nods tersely. "The Nonlinear Mathematics files that led you to the discovery of the Particle Impactor. It is done. I shall—"

Now is the moment. I raise a hand to forestall further comment, noting with no small pleasure that it does not tremble. "Colonel. I apologize if I have misguided you, but I cannot at this time divulge the technology behind this weapon."

I expect her gaze to burn me to ashes on the spot, but instead she is silent, calm. Waiting.

I must see this through. Focus. I didn't rehearse this a dozen times to fail now. "Recent mathematics breakthroughs by my social engineers have discovered a fascinating algorithm that allows for radical redesign of habitation structures and much greater efficiency in social decision-making. This "Ethical Calculus", as I call it, will greatly improve the capacity of your military bases to easily support a large civilian population, as well as providing juvenile education centers for the accelerated training of your soldiers, and nursery units for the youngest. After all, the children are our fut..." I trail off. She appears to be... musing.

Santiago begins to speak, slowly at first and then with growing conviction. "Children not only shape our future but, in many ways, our present. Men and women work harder knowing their children are safe and close at hand—and never forget that with children present, parents will fight to the death." Her eyes shine with the hard, cold light of zeal.

"Thank you, Provost Prokhor Zakharov." Slowly, the right corner of her mouth begins to quirk upwards. Is this a smirk? A grim satisfaction? A... smile? I notice a slight green tinge to her features and realize to my horror that I have at some point moved my left monoculens into place in an attempt to obtain greater magnification. I flick it away immediately, hoping feverishly that she did not notice.

It dawns upon me that it has been some time since Santiago finished speaking, and I have given no reply. Just like any system, conversation has its rules. Encoder/Source/Decoder > Message > Decoder/Receiver/Encoder > Feedback, and so on. So simple to execute, why must I falter now?

My gaze returns to the vidscreen. How long has it been? Santiago remains exactly the same, save for one eyebrow that has arched into a perfect parabola.

I start talking very fast.

"Yes. Quite so. They will most definitely fight and die for you and I... Ahem. For you, and I believe this trade will be of great mutual benefit to both of our interests—a relationship of faculative symbiosis not unlike that between Occelaris Clownfish and Heteractis Magnifica... Yes. It will be... good. Very... very... good."

If I were still holding that Impact Rifle my head would currently be undergoing extremely rapid expansion and dispersal over a wide area. In the 137 years, four months, and three days since I first voiced the opinion, I remain unchanged in my view that socializing with females sucks cold vacuum.

I realized then that in this case it could also get me killed.

Colonel Santiago is not laughing like the girls of Cherskiy. Her face is that of the archer at the moment the arrow hits its target. The hunter who watches the trap slide shut with a certain self-congratulatory amusement at a perfect plan, perfectly executed.

"Zakharov. Control yourself. I know you value knowledge, and although my research databanks hold no secret we have not shared, there is one piece of information I yet hold that you will esteem over any other. Transmit the files on Nonlinear Mathematics and it will be yours."

I cannot help but be curious, and yet... Colonel Santiago is somehow causing a deplorable excess of personality in me. I cannot disregard the possibility that her Scout Patrol has released some pheromone agent that is altering my judgment and perceptions.

I play it cool. "Perhaps, my dear Colonel, and yet this technology is quite valuable to my continuing research efforts. If your information is truly as essential as you claim I will gladly hand over my files. If not, perhaps you may find my files on Applied Physics to be adequate recompense?"

It is as though I had not spoken. Something behind her eyes... Her path is so clear, to her, I realize. She has formed her strategy, and knows that the die has been cast.

I lift my hand, and the files are transmitted. Santiago nods once in satisfaction.

"You have made the right decision, Provost. He was not nearly so wise. Too focused on ideologies to see the people behind them. He is not yet your equal."

Dread washes over me. It cannot be...

Santiago continues, relentless. "I fully expected to encounter Prokhor Zakharov during my time on Planet. I did not expect to encounter him, again." For the first time she smiles, the smile of the Shrike, lanius excubitor, impaling a lizard upon a thorn before its hooked bill begins to rip at the exposed flesh.

"I was not the only one who set events in motion before the long cold sleep. But your experiment, your final contingency plan, seems to have succeeded beyond your greatest hopes." She pauses, considering. "Or, perhaps, your greatest fears. You transmitted your information in good faith, Provost. I am honor-bound to do the same. Here is the commlink frequency you seek. Fare well."

Santiago disconnects, her image replaced by a random-seeming string of numbers and letters. Datatechs scurry to record and archive them. I gaze at the characters, my brain idly analyzing them as though they were some sort of cypher. A thought penetrates.

He is alive.

My son... my clone.

He is alive.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Personal Log, Encryption Level Omega-Maximum.

Impact and Ice

M.Y 41.

I have invited Santiago's Scout Patrol to a tour of my main research facilities at Ivory Tower, as the Transport Foil that bore them here is apparently not returning for some time. Their leader is a seasoned veteran, with the look of a man who has faced Mind Worms and knows that no other threat could be half as dangerous. His eyes are everywhere as he is led through the perimeter gates, noting defenses, cataloging weaknesses. His fingers play constantly over the keypad of his wristlink, and I cannot help but smile as I watch him through the eyes of the watchvid cameras. If information is what he seeks, there is no greater store of it on Planet. He appears nonplussed by the big metal doors that go swoosh! when they open, despite my Psych Advisor's assurances that they would make visitors "feel like they were in the future". I must have words with her later.

As I continue my observations, I note that even the leader is equipped with no more than a shredder pistol—of course I could never be so foolish as to ask a Spartan to surrender his weapons—and that relic of the Unity seems much less formidable now than it did in those dark corridors. Santiago's followers have certainly survived Planetfall, but they have not thrived nearly so much as have my own minions. Ironically enough, use of obsolete weapons goes directly against Santiago's philosophy of warfare. A tap of my keypad, and Santiago's smooth Spanish accent fills my chamber like smoke.

"Superior training and superior weaponry have, when taken together, a geometric effect on overall military strength. Well-trained, well-equipped troops can stand up to many more times their lesser brethren than linear arithmetic would seem to indicate."

A shiver of... anticipation? trembles across my chest and again my lips curl upwards. Well-equipped, indeed. Today, the most powerful weapons reside in my arsenals, not hers. As I stride from my chamber, I commlink the technician guarding... guiding the Spartans to rendezvous with me at the firing range. As they enter I spread my arms wide in a magnanimous gesture, revealing my teeth in what I've been assured is a fair approximation of a welcoming smile. After terse greetings, I inform him of why I've brought him here: to witness firsthand the fruits of our research, which I have no doubt his Colonel will find quite intriguing.

A snap of my fingers echoes about the large chamber, and an instant later there is motion at the far end of the smooth white expanse of the weapons-testing range. Seamless doors slide open in the far wall, and in slides a freshly-frozen chunk of Planet's nearby sea, a perfect cube of clear ice ten meters on a side. I hold out a hand, and a lab assistant passes me one of the new Particle Impactor Rifles. Although my own monoculens provides far superior magnification and detail enhancement, I make a show of sighting down the rifle's optics as I depress the weapon's firing stud. The rifle is recoil-less and almost noiseless, but the effects are as dramatic as anticipated.

A single hypervelocity particle drills its miniscule line through the center of the giant block of ice. Nanoseconds later, the destructive effects of its passing resonate throughout the cube. Ice explodes in all directions, a few large fragments pinwheeling through the air as much of the rest is shattered into infintestimal particles that fall like a rain of diamond dust onto the smooth white floor. I turn to face the lead Scout in order to gauge his reaction, a movement that inadvertantly brings the Impact Rifle swinging around in his general direction.

His training is superb, his face not betraying a single iota of emotion. And yet his reflexes betray him: the fingers of his right hand twitch for an instant as though to grasp his shredder pistol before they are halted by an iron will. Remarkable. His voice, too, shows no sign of the hope and fear that must be coursing through him as he speaks. "A most impressive display. Colonel Santiago will doubtless want to be informed immediately." He looks askance at me. "If you will allow it, I can upload her direct commlink frequency to your central computer, allowing you to speak with her at once." At my gesture he heads towards the Network Node, tapping commands into his wristlink.

My Head Datatech appears to be mouthing words at me, eyes bulging, and makes several frantic gestures as he hurries to my side. I brush the man aside, favoring him with a glare colder than the ice melting on the floors of the firing range. I swear it, if that man prattles on to me one more time about "network backdoors" and "intolerable security loopholes", I will Nerve Staple him so hard his children will feel it!

Although... it would be much more efficient to just Nerve Staple the children as well.

I am shaken from my reverie by the hum of the main vidscreen warming up. The Scout leader indicates that his message has been sent and we await only the Colonel's response.

In mere seconds, we will at last meet face-to-face.

The Spartan and I.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Personal Log

Danger and Opportunity

Mission Year 41.

Base sensors have detected an unknown Scout Patrol within striking distance of Ivory Tower. All defensive troops are at Yellow Alert. The presence of these forces on my soil allows for several inferences. First: Another faction's landing pod must have fallen on a nearby island. Second: Their research has proceeded more quickly than mine in exploration technology. While my own researchers have discovered Doctrine: Mobility and wheeled Rover technology, the rediscovery of sea travel, codenamed Doctrine: Flexibility, still eludes them. In the script of Great China, the character for Crisis combines both Danger and Opportunity, and both are surely present here as well. Although my researchers have developed deadly Particle Impactor technology, the first troops equipped with them have not yet been prototyped, so I must avoid open war until the advantage is clearly mine. As the unknown Scout Patrol approaches Ivory Tower, sensors have begun to make out details.

As Scouts they are given only the lightest of arms and armor, but nonetheless these troops appear confident and well-trained, their formations precise, with no wasted movements. As my vidscreen zooms in, I can make out heraldry patches on Scouts' armored pauldrons, an arrow in a hexagon, pointing downward, on a black field.

Spartans. Corazon Santiago is alive.

Of course she is alive. A consummate Survivalist... the probability of her surviving Planetfall approached 1. I remember... our forces clashed on the Unity, my engineers against her commandos. Blood on the walls, shredder pistols echoing in the corridors. She led from the front, commanding her troops in battle, but the repair of the Unity's damaged fusion core was my first priority, and we never met face-to-face. And yet, her image captivated me. Proud and controlled as she held Lieutenant Skye captive in the greenhouses, staring defiance at the security cameras, her eyes as hard and dark as spheres of buckminsterfullerene.

Dangerous indeed. A pre-emptive strike by her forces would prove an intolerable detriment to my research efforts, especially considering her unassailable position across the seas I cannot yet cross. And yet, of all the beings on Planet, perhaps she is the only one who could understand my passion, my mission, my clarity.

If an alliance could be forged between us... My purity of mind and vision, her purity of form and action... my hand to forge the weapon, hers to wield it...

I must speak with her. Soon.

Progress

Mission Year 35

Expansion and colonization efforts continue to exceed expected timetables. I have founded two new research bases and am well-pleased with the efforts of my Formers in beating back the clutching fungus that threatens to envelop them. The first base is near another of these mysterious monoliths, whose secrets are the gateway to these lost technologies, so I have named this frontier base for its work in "Aperture Science". The other new base lies in a flat plain dark with vegetation, so it shall be named "Black Mesa". As they were founded in the same year, I expect competition between the two for research grants shall be fierce, with interesting results.

I have linked another of the fascinating Alien Artifacts to the Network Node at Black Mesa, leading to yet more research discoveries. Some of my researchers fear that unforeseen consequences may result from this eager utilization of unknown technology, but I am certain there is no flaw in my logic. They fear the unknown, uncanny properties of this ancient technology, but as the great Arthur C. Clarke once wrote, "Any suitably advanced science is indistinguishable from magic." The obvious corollary being that any apparent magic is simply science not yet fully understood. We will uncover the secrets, the power of this ancient race of Progenitors. The true scientist knows no fear, only limitless curiosity.

While the other factions focus on their myopic interests, I look to long-term planning, and have initiated a long-term Secret Project into recovering the Datalink files on the Human Genome Project that were lost in the crash of the Unity. This wealth of genetic research will doubtless give our scientists a distinct advantage in the years to come. I have founded another base in the west, expanding my territory still further. I call this foundation "Edinstvo-Unity", recalling the language of my motherland, for it represents not the feeble patchwork unity of the doomed spaceflight, but the true unity that comes from uniformity of purpose and purity of thought. Even as the technological advances of the Industrial Revolution swept the face of lost Earth, my research continues to carry us across the face of Planet in an unstoppable march.

At the advice of my Psych Chaplain, I have ordered my research bases to implement a Planned economic model, as well as allowing the subje... citizens a measure of Democratic freedoms. These policies have resulted in high productivity and an almost alarming amount of population growth, but I am confident all will go as I predict. With every passing year, new minds are born. Minds to fill the research labs, the hab complexes, the colony pods. A wave of my hand, in the tens of thousands they answer my call for expansion, extending our networks still further, moving towards the southwest.

Towards the new future we will shape with wills of iron and minds of steel.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Mission Log

Morgan

[Zindaras's Note: If you haven't you'll want to investigate the first comment in the previous log entry. Keep an eye out for more interesting comments like this in the future—but don't feel like the comments are only for meta-narrative; regular-type comments are completely welcome as well. Thanks for reading. ]

Nwabudike Morgan. Of course. How could the experience of Planet be complete without everyone's favorite philosopher-hedonist? A powerful mind, a force of personality that took him from a containment cell to full Council membership almost before anyone noticed. At least he had the good sense to vote with me on the decision to abandon the Unity in landing pods rather than attempt to save it—a man not bound by petty morality. But still, his eyes cannot truly see. The flow of currency, the laws of supply and demand, these are the forces that absorb his attention. I look beyond, only the laws of physics and thermodynamics, the fundamental elements of the universe, concern me. And even they cannot bar my path forever...

Of course this unwarranted intrusion into my Network has been investigated and dealt with. My head Network Advisor at Ivory Tower informs me that nearly fifty of his datatechs are possible suspects in allowing Morgan access to my files. In related news, although my Psych Advisor claims that her prototype Nerve Stapler device still has long-lasting effects much too extreme to allow it to be used on the general population, she now has an additional 47 test subjects on which to conduct her experiments. For some reason she protested at this magnanimous gesture on my part, something about "unnecessary casualties" and "innocent people". Why can they not see as I see? Only hard science, pure science can be allowed on this new world. I have instructed her of the virtues of scientific rigor, noting that an experiment that fails to produce suitable results forty-seven times may well succeed on the forty-eighth, reminding her of Edison's efforts with the lightbulb filament. For some reason the woman became quite pale.

Personal Note: Instruct Nutrient Advisor to increase Vitamin D supplements for all lab personnel, as some seem to be suffering from a mild melanin deficiency.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Personal Log, Encryption Level Alpha-Minimum

Like a Scalpel

Mission Year 20.

Initial establishment and expansion has been proceeding within expected parameters. Several of my exploratory teams have reported contact with the local lifeforms I have dubbed Annellid Cerebrum Terriblis—“Mind Worms”, in layman's terms,—due to their apparent ability to overwhelm their victims through an induced psychic assault, allowing them to devour the victim at their leisure. No doubt due to the superior intelligence of even my most humble citizenry, however, Scout Patrols have managed to acquit themselves well in battle with these Mind Worms, proving once again my old maxim that 'a mind is a terrible thing to have consumed by parasites'. I have directed base expansion from my landing site at Ivory Tower, founding a promising new base I call Buran Prospect on a coastal site with adequate irrigation from nearby rivers and which is additionally enhanced by one of the mysterious “Monoliths” that appear in several places in the nearby landscape. Additional research on these structures is—obviously—already underway. Several lost Unity Rovers and even a Unity Foil naval vessel were recovered by my Scout Patrols, allowing for much-needed long range reconnaissance, which in turn revealed several artifacts of unknown origin, one of which I have had linked to our Network Node at Buran Prospect, leading to some very intriguing research breakthroughs in weapons technology.

Another such artifact was discovered by a Scout Rover traveling farther afield, and is currently being escorted towards the site where I hope to establish another new base. As much as these discoveries please me, however, reports have also come in of several large “Xenofungal Blooms” to the north. Xenofungus, the crimson, fantastically shaped fungus which covers vast tracts of Planet's thus-far-discovered surface, provides an impediment to the mobility of my own forces as well as a breeding ground for Mind Worms, and as such its extreme density in the northwestern sector of my territory is a cause for lasting concern. Fortunately the “Former” terraformer units we have recently brought online report that they are able, given time, to remove this Xenofungus entirely from a given area. My Formers will cut the fungus away from Planet like a surgeon's scalpel slicing away necrotic tissue, and my people will flourish in the new territories that are uncovered.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Mission Log

Old Mistakes

Mission Year 09.

Researchers at Ivory Tower have made our first significant research breakthrough since Planetfall. While this data on Planetary Networks unlocks many potential areas of intriguing research, a dark cloud hangs over me. Infiltrators report that, despite the brilliance and dedication of my research scientists, another faction is rumored to have completed the landmark “First breakthrough since Planetfall” a full year ahead of my department! This is most disturbing news... what mind on Planet could possibly compete with my own? That dabbler in algorithms, Aki Luttinen? Preposterous! There is no intellect on this world comparable to mine! Unless...

No. It could not be... it cannot be...

Personal Note: instruct the research and development teams assigned to synthetic vodka production to accelerate their timetables. I must steady my nerves, and the last bottle of vodka produced on Earth was the one I shared with Raymond back on the Unity. I must remain precise. Purity of focus. If I have made errors in the past, I will now correct them... by whatever means necessary.

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Personal Log, Encryption Level Delta-XV.

Planetfall

To a world of science. To a life of the mind.

Preliminary scans of Planet's surface indicate its mass to be much larger than originally supposed, with an overall climate that curiously mixes dense cloud cover with relatively sparse oceans. Interference from indigenous species will undoubtedly hinder our research, and yet Planet seems to be a welcoming and fertile new home—one which my enlightened experiments will no doubt only improve as time progresses. One can only hope that other faction leaders surviving the Unity will not be so dense as to attempt to interfere with my research...

I wonder how many of their landing pods survived to reach the surface. Perhaps I will even see her again...

—Academician Prokhor Zakharov, Mission Log

Here's the idea

Inspired by the great 'Alice and Kev' Sims 3 diary and a couple of excellent Dwarf Fortress diaries, I decided it was about time I sat down and did a game diary for one of the best Turn-Based Strategy games of all time, Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri. Anyone who has played the game will testify as to its amazing faction leaders, who are, for all their epic proportions, some of the most realistic-seeming characters I've encountered in a lifetime of gaming. This is due to the incredible amount of effort the development team put into the stories—and backstories—of these characters, even authoring an immense 90-page backstory that acts as a prequel for the game (and which delayed this blog post by a few hours as I sat around reading it).

The interesting character interactions, incredibly imaginative yet realistic-seeming research technologies, and the chaos and opportunities that come from the game's random events make every game of Alpha Centauri an amazing story, but often one that you've half-forgotten by the time the game ends, and would be long enough to talk even a dedicated fan's ear off if you didn't. However, I realized that doing a gaming diary for this game would be a perfect way to bring other people along for the ride as it was happening, giving them a chance to experience the joys and disappointments of life on Planet without having to learn a game whose main failing is that it requires a lot of experience to get along well in and hides all its secrets in massive, sprawling Datalinks files without ever really telling you it anywhere else. Notably, my friend Nathaniel has been playing this game for many years and is still unearthing obscure facts and quirks of the game he hadn't known before. Indeed, it was a long-standing inside joke of ours that Terraformers were able to move mountains, but somehow couldn't remove the rocks from "rocky" terrain to make it suitable for farms... then we found out that that's exactly what the "Terraform Level" command is for.

Anyway, having played quite a few Alpha Centauri games recently, even managing the difficult task of beating a game on Transcend difficulty (the highest) with Alien factions present (they are CHEATERS) I decided to think outside the box a little and come up with a scenario for this game diary that would be fun both to play and to read. I'm hoping for a game that will last long enough that I can attempt victory by Transcendence, which requires that you have researched basically every technology there is, so it's only possible in the late lategame, before which you've usually won or lost anyway. Therefore, I made my game on a Planet of immense proportions, custom-sized to be much larger than the largest the game reccomends by default. I also turned the ocean coverage down to Low, meaning that hopefully no faction will find itself crippled by being stuck on a tiny island, and will make wars a lot more interesting to read about than the "Spent 20 years shuttling my helicopters between sea bases before even reaching the enemy" that they can often be otherwise. Most interestingly, I've set the game to "Iron Man" mode, meaning that the game disables saving and loading except for when you exit the game, meaning that if my first colony pod gets eaten by mind worms... I guess I'll have to live with that. I'll admit, I did set the difficulty to "Thinker", (second-hardest) instead of Transcend this time—I want to be an underdog, not a doormat, and I've filled the game with a selection of really tough opponents. I'm sure you'll be hearing plenty about them as the game progresses.

Hopefully the most fun part will be trying to play as true to Zakharov's character as I can—the Academician has a brilliant intellect, but rather fails to grasp the nuances of so-called "emotions" and decidedly inefficient "ethics", as well as having somewhat awkward social skills. One can safely assume that these traits, combined with his faction weakness of having an increased number of rebellious citizens (known as Drones), will lead to a lot of amusing situations. The oft-considered but rarely-implemented Final Solution to a Drone Riot is the appalling practice of Nerve Stapling, which is considered an Atrocity by other factions and severely decreases your reputation with them. Given that Zakharov has a tiny bit more concern for the efficiency of his worker's research efforts than he does for their personal well-being, it's safe to assume that I might be doing a little bit of Nerve Stapling (pictured euphemistically at top right.) So I'll try to "play it straight" to Zakharov's character, refraining as much as I can from the usual metagaming one does after accumulating a large amount of experience. Despite my personal preference for a Build/Explore combo early on, I'll be keeping my research priorities set to purely "Discover" throughout the game, as that is Zakharov's default setting. However, I'll readily admit that my own sense of humor will doubtless creep into my characterization—"my" Zakharov will probably have a little more of the Mad Scientist to him than does the coldly logical version of the canon—but that's all for the... "good", right?

Hopefully I'll remember to avoid too much game jargon and inside jokes, but if you have any questions or comments, not sure what a Foil is or if using Nerve Gas Pods on a city is naughty or nice (one guess), feel free to make yourself heard in the Comments. Honestly, I'd be pretty amused to try and answer questions in-character if possible ("In an attempt to improve public relations, Provost Zakharov has begun a weekly vidcast answering mail from querulous Drones throughout the territories!") so if you have any ideas (strategic suggestions, names for bases or custom units, diplomatic advice...typos...) you think would make a good contribution to the story, let me know and I'll see what I can work in.

So I think it's about time we get this thing rolling and find out what fate the daring Academician, Prokhor Zakharov, has in store for him. Eaten by Mind Worms? Crushed beneath the combined armies of the Caretaker and the Usurper? Disintegrated in a tragic Supercollider accident? Buried beneath a rising tide of Drones? Will he finally reveal his true feelings for Colonel Corazon Santiago? What is the dark secret from his past that threatens to undo all he has worked for? Only time—and I—will tell!

See you Planetside!

—Zindaras