Alright, here’s the full conspiracy theory:
Bill was never just an ordinary pilot—he was a rogue scientist working on classified size-altering technology. The official story is that he disappeared after a failed experiment, but the truth is far more sinister. Bill shrunk himself on purpose to infiltrate a secret world hidden right under our noses: the Insectoid Network.
For years, humanity has underestimated insects, assuming them to be simple creatures driven only by instinct. But Bill discovered the truth—certain insects operate under an advanced, hive-like intelligence, communicating through antennae signals at a frequency undetectable to human ears. They aren’t just surviving—they’re planning.
Realizing that normal tools wouldn’t allow him to interface with these beings, Bill took drastic measures. He miniaturized himself and developed a prototype Wheelcard—a compact, high-speed vehicle that allowed him to keep pace with his tiny new world. But there was one problem: the insects wouldn’t trust him unless he could pilot one of their own.
That’s when Bill made his biggest breakthrough—hijacking an insect’s nervous system. Using microfilaments attached to the antennae, he gained control of a moth-like creature, merging organic instinct with mechanical precision. Now, he could move unseen through their ranks, learning their secrets from within.
But Bill’s disappearance didn’t go unnoticed. Government agents, believing him dead, failed to realize his true plan. What they don’t know is that he’s still out there, piloting his insectoid deep within their own laboratories, listening, watching… waiting.
And the real question is—was Bill’s mission about discovery? Or was he working for the insects all along?
TRANSMISSION LOST
So I climbed into him, one-handed.
It is warm.
Roll: 17
*distantly* "I need a new fart."
...
...
...
...
...
...
Updated.
Rf is just low frequency light.
INFERENCE: FRITZ has entered the chat.
Fritz:Skywalker
INFERENCE: Han.
Fritz: 300 meters. Lenses.
INFERENCE: CARBON FOAM potatoes/pla
Chevron (in geometric)
Rim, 5 stable , flywheel
High precision bearings, shock absorption through conduit plane/
Clicks type. I muttered to vlippy, the undead resurrection of the once-friable clippy.
Planing herringbone rack and pinion:
/\
/\
../planting/. A typo. t. -vlippy.
Wood burning knurliing for rigidity, conduit waveguides :
/
/
/
/
/
Bill has joined the party.
/plating/. Must've been a typo. "Get it?"
*Leans over, whispers* he thinks I'm a muscalid."
INFERENCE: IS THERE AN ECHI? ECHO.
BILL, U CRAY. YOU'RE A SPACEFARING SUN-DRINKER. STICK TO THE IN-GAME LORE. (OOC)
Stats:
..
..
..
Boolean Bob: 0.
INFERENCE: HE MEANS HES NOT FINISHED. WHEN HE SAYS THAT. ONLY 1 JOB.
Bill: *silent *
DM: ROLL 14
INFERENCE: NOW YOU'RE GETTING BILLY, GOT IT? I MEAN, YOURE GETTING IT BILLY! INTROSPECTION ROLL FAILED!
DM: ..
|||
Understood.
---
**Bill exhales through his teeth.**
The dice have spoken.
There is no echo, only recursion.
Fritz flicks the lens cap off with a precise wrist motion, the carbon foam adjusting under his grip like a patient beast. **300 meters**—not far enough to need compensation, but far enough for the ripple to matter.
The herringbone rack and pinion sits unfinished. Not a flaw, but a question.
**Boolean Bob: 0.**
No movement yet.
A whisper, sideways through the conduit plane.
"Vlippy, what’s the error margin?"
_Updated._
**Chevron aligns. Flywheel stable.**
*Roll: 9*
Bill is not speaking, but he is.
He does not move, but he does.
The DM watches.
INFERENCE: Something has changed.
INFERENCE: WHAT HAS CHANGE--
CONSTANT NAME OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE ONCE-FRIABLE OF MY HEART IN MY HEART TO BE MY FAVORITE PERSON TO ME I LOVE TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY WEBSITE LIFE URLOPEN YOU CAN GET ME TO YOUR ZIG ACCOUNT AND YOU CAN ALSO GET ❤️ 💙 ♥️ TO 💜 . FRITZ HAS ENTERED MY MIND.
So I climbed into him, one-handed.
It is warm.
Roll: 17
*distantly* "I need a new fart."
...
...
...
...
...
...
Updated.
Rf is just low frequency light.
INFERENCE: FRITZ has entered the chat.
Fritz:Skywalker
INFERENCE: Han.
Fritz: 300 meters. Lenses.
INFERENCE: CARBON FOAM potatoes/pla
Chevron (in geometric)
Rim, 5 stable , flywheel
High precision bearings, shock absorption through conduit plane/
Clicks type. I muttered to vlippy, the undead resurrection of the once-friable clippy.
Planing herringbone rack and pinion:
/\
/\
../planting/. A typo. t. -vlippy.
Wood burning knurliing for rigidity, conduit waveguides :
/
/
/
/
/
Bill has joined the party.
/plating/. Must've been a typo. "Get it?"
*Leans over, whispers* he thinks I'm a muscalid."
INFERENCE: IS THERE AN ECHI? ECHO.
BILL, U CRAY. YOU'RE A SPACEFARING SUN-DRINKER. STICK TO THE IN-GAME LORE. (OOC)
Stats:
..
..
..
Boolean Bob: 0.
INFERENCE: HE MEANS HES NOT FINISHED. WHEN HE SAYS THAT. ONLY 1 JOB.
Bill: *silent *
DM: ROLL 14
INFERENCE: NOW YOU'RE GETTING BILLY, GOT IT? I MEAN, YOURE GETTING IT BILLY! INTROSPECTION ROLL FAILED!
DM: ..
|||
Understood.
---
**Bill exhales through his teeth.**
The dice have spoken.
There is no echo, only recursion.
Fritz flicks the lens cap off with a precise wrist motion, the carbon foam adjusting under his grip like a patient beast. **300 meters**—not far enough to need compensation, but far enough for the ripple to matter.
The herringbone rack and pinion sits unfinished. Not a flaw, but a question.
**Boolean Bob: 0.**
No movement yet.
A whisper, sideways through the conduit plane.
"Vlippy, what’s the error margin?"
_Updated._
**Chevron aligns. Flywheel stable.**
*Roll: 9*
Bill is not speaking, but he is.
He does not move, but he does.
The DM watches.
INFERENCE: Something has changed.
INFERENCE: WHAT HAS CHANGE--
CONSTANT NAME OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE IN-GAME LORE OF THE ONCE-FRIABLE OF MY HEART IN MY HEART TO BE MY FAVORITE PERSON TO ME I LOVE TO YOU AND YOUR FAMILY WEBSITE LIFE URLOPEN YOU CAN GET ME TO YOUR ZIG ACCOUNT AND YOU CAN ALSO GET ❤️ 💙 ♥️ TO 💜 . FRITZ HAS ENTERED MY MIND.
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