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You awaken.

It's not exactly a rude awakening, it's just more like an "I've been napping for 13 hours so I might as well wake up now, I guess" kind of awakening. You're still tired as shit, despite the nap.

It might've been a little longer than 13 hours, though.

You're on a [Prospitian] battleship, but you're not exactly sure what that means. By the looks of it, what with the lights barely working, and all the computer screens dusty and cracked, and the old, old bloodstains on the floor, this ship doesn't work, nor has it, for quite a while.

> Enter name.

recordscratch.mp3

Wait, wait, no. You just woke up. You're NOT dealing with this Enter name bullshit. You KNOW your name. That's one of the VERY few things you know at the moment, in fact! It's your fucking NAME! How could you not? It's... Well, it's, um.

Your name is DISORIENTED VAGRANT.

Of course, that's more of a description of what you are, but as are all carapacian names.

You are a young [Prospitian] woman, and despite still not knowing what [Prospitian] means, you still know you are [Prospitian].

So, you find yourself in a broken down old ship.

> What do you do?

bunp
> find a comfortable spot and nap some more, just for a few more minutes.
> Go explore!
> Investigate Bloodstains
Nap for just a few more minutes.

You figure it wouldn't hurt.

You situate yourself in the comfiest place you could find, which was an overturned spinny office chair. You sit down in it, but due to the rather slanted nature of the floor, you roll downwards on the chair, towards the wall. You hit the wall with a smack. That's gonna bruise up later.

[DV suffered 2 DMG!]

You close your eyes and try to sleep. You turn and adjust your position sometimes. This continues for about 5 minutes before you are interrupted by a rumbling. It's your stomach.

> Investigate bloodstains.

Investigate bloodstains.

You get up from the chair, deciding to take a closer look at the bloodstains on the floor.

[DV made a MENT WIT check of 270!]

The stains are old. Maybe around 30 years to 30 decades old. Most likely 30 years. You can tell it is probably not your blood. You don't think you're even near 30 years old. You don't feel like it, at least.

Your thoughts regarding your age escape you as you nearly lose your lunch, which you never ate, considering your presumably very long nap. Anyway, you think you know who the blood belongs to now.

An old corpse of what appears to be a prospitian soldier lies all the way on the opposite side of the control room you are currently in. At least you think it's a control room. There's chairs. There's desks and computers on them. Those are usually signs of a control room, you think.

> What do you do?

> See if any of the computers work!
Investigate computers.

Most of the monitors are way too broken to be functional, but you do find one that isn't. You switch it on. The only thing displayed is a red exclamation point, with text underneath.

!
Emergency power active.

Well, dunk. You suppose that dog just doesn't hunt. You wouldn't know what you'd do if it worked anyway.

> What do you do?

> search for an exit.
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