A buzzword in many of the seasons of Sol Survivor I watched was “Leader.”
To a certain extent, the show tried to portray itself as a social experiment, but it had too much writing and planning to be a proper experiment. In their scheme, they wanted to see if people could build a society in a disaster. They were fueled, unfortunately, by the drama. Even in a life-or-death situation, life is by definition mundane. So the writers and producers concocted feats of strength, bravery, guile, and Moxy to captivate the audience. Their endeavor resulted in less an experiment for societal creation and more an exposition of social erosion. In such a situation, a leader is simply a scapegoat and point of contention.
In real life, where society is a necessary construct with a social contract between the members delineating conduct, leaders are necessary. Whether those local leaders are all subservient to a single supreme leader or to a council of some sort, leaders are integral to maintain order and progress for the individual.
In a situation where there are a handful of people cut off from society, and all of them have wildly disparate backgrounds and skills, you do not necessarily need a leader. As long as all of them are working toward a common goal, and are all as invested in survival, and are reasonable beings, they can be a band of equals.
This is my understanding of our band of misfits trying to survive a real-world season of Sol Survivor.
One of our number has found my dissatisfaction with assumptions of another of our number, and mixed it with his hatred of the armed forces he was once subordinate to. This resulted in obstinance, frustration, and drama.
Perhaps I should judge the producers of Sol Survivor a bit less harshly?
In any case, our group is starting to really accomplish some outstanding things. We survived a half-destroyed crashed ship being eaten by extremetrophs, populated by the dead – hopefully for an amazing payday once we are rescued. Then, we found a precursor ship that appeared out of a bulbous landing pad pod, seemingly intact and fully functional.
After boarding the ship through the hangar, the similarities we saw of the ship’s design and marking only proved to denote the otherworldliness of it. Our hope for rescue and innate curiosity was what spurred us onward, to investigate this ship. How could a ship sitting for an obviously long time still be in working order? What kind of alien presence were we about to come in contact with? If they were still alive, would they be friend or foe?
Commander Jorun Hendrick set his MedEvac down, and determined after exiting that it was a good location to leave the shuttle – something in the somehow-familiar alien markings helped him deduce the parking spots. His eyes and my bots were able to find the alien writings – written in Ultra-Violet inks – and we started along the long, arduous path of decoding the language. Something about his training, or his healer’s empathy, awoke new depths of linguistics in the Commander, helping him decipher the alien script and labels.
Openings created for beings much smaller than the average human, and aesthetics made by inhuman sensibilities, greeted us as we moved through the ship. We made our way up some spiral staircases that resembled the golden-ratioed shells you find in the ocean, through a grand hallway that was tall enough even for Newie, and following hints and guesses as to the meanings of labels, we found the command node.
After a short investigation, we found the central processing core for the ship, and several of the group went back to the MedEvac to retrieve the AI core and explore some of the other parts of the ship. I worked with Geneva to devise a program to render the strange UV-inked 2-dimensional writing in 3 dimensions on my tablet. Spurred by the success of the script, and the need for everyone to be able to read to help with the ship, I started to plan ways to help others see what Jorun and I could.
With the server blade retrieved, the AI from the Charon was hooked up to the Biomechanical computer through some jury-rigging by the enigmatic Geneva. When the drive started to overheat in the middle of the process, they scrambled to decode the computer system to cool the area but realized that the biological coolant systems were incompatible with silicon-based computing. After resorting to some primitive cooling methods – icepack and towels – they successfully transferred the AI. I plan to have a wake for the original AI, locked for millennia with nothing but the ever-shrinking landing pad-pod to greet it, it took its own life and deleted its consciousness.
While the work on the AI was being done, Jorun and I worked to create a way for us to read and understand the ship’s systems. Scrounging in my newly acquired lifeline cyborg cache I was able to put together some visors for the group and upgrade Jorun’s eye-borg implants to be able to see the text properly. It is my guess that the creatures that built this ship had more than 2 eyes, which allowed for their text to truly be viewed in 3 dimensions, while represented on a 2-dimensional plane.
After some more digging into the ship’s computers, and learning the icon-based control mechanisms on the UI, we left the atmosphere and explored the system we might have to call home.
We found two wormholes, one of which is on a rotation of several hours, and the other is on a rotation of over a month. We quickly “reconnoitered” the short-interval system, to determine that it was a dead-end.
Having several weeks before the wild wormhole reappeared, we took the time to harvest some He-3 from the Gas Giant in our Lost-World system.