#Tech Evolutionary

[mehmetyildizmelbourne-blog]

Meet Mr Sylvain Zyssman, a Tech Expert

Sylvain, from France, is the technical brain behind the Illumination Substack Mastery Boost Dear Subscribers,  As an editor, content curator, and now a founding member of the Illumination Substack Mastery community I started introducing my editor and writer colleagues. It is a great pleasure for me to do so.  My latest one was about David Mokotoff, MD. If you missed it, you can read from this…

[slimynematode]

THE ELECTRONIC YET PALEOLITHIC GARDEN OF EDEN BEARING FRUIT UNTOUCHED BY OVERGROWN MEGAFAUNA OF FUTURES PAST

[josies-not-suicidal-now]

being so unbelievably attracted to transfemme butches sometimes feels like being one of those orchids that can only be polinated by a single species of hummingbird that is slowly going into extinction because of how impractical that is

[shironezuninja]

I demand closure.

[transmutationisms]

i love when people are Very invested in transhistorically excluding something like astrology or phrenology from the noble and enlightening category of ‘science’ but won’t extend this to things like nutrition and weight science, or evolutionary psychology, or like 90% of tech startups, or anything else with the current imprimatur of academic institutions and state-funded research orgs. the correct answer here is that science is not & never has been morally or intellectually infallible, and has been & still can be used to propagate falsehoods, harm people, & reinforce & justify existing inequities

[poon-nropay]

More "Nothing Out Of Ordinary AU" art, but this time we got purely the adults in the '80s! or the "Golden" Age, as I take to call it.

...and also INTRODUCING;

Emma-May Dixon: The Evolutionary, another mad scientist in town. She specialized in mutation, genetic modification, and beast-control tech. Fiddleford's beloved (on-again, off-again) wife, and one of the Spectator's villains (their third divorce argument completely destroyed the downtown area. They will remarry later.)

Bronzemoon and I had so much fun coming up with their details. The lore goes deep and I can't wait to draw them more!

[nowimjustastranger]

StCMO Lore | Part 2

I changed Watchdog Ford's motivation for going into the multiverse and I think this narrative is far more fitting, with the added benefit of being angsty as all hell.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Stanford Pines began his obsessive search for a solution soon after, determined to undo what had been done. But Death could not be reversed, nor could it be threatened or bribed. So Stanley Pines remained in Death’s tender embrace and, in his growing desperation, Stanford Pines began to explore other means of getting his brother back.

He left no stone unturned and eventually stumbled across the multiverse theory. A theory which suggests that our universe is not the only one, and that there may be countless other universes existing alongside it, each potentially with its own laws of physics and properties, essentially creating a "multiverse" where our universe is just one part of a much larger cosmic structure.

An idea began to form.

After getting his first PhD in evolutionary biology, Stanford Pines immediately pursued a degree in physics. In the meantime, Fiddleford found a job and bought an apartment near campus so he could look after Ford, who had begun to neglect both his health and hygiene in favor of pouring all his time and attention into turning his idea into reality.

When Stanford graduated early yet again, they moved to Gravity Falls together, where the barrier between Dimensions was weaker, and began to build a portal that could tear a hole between the two. Fiddleford was reluctant, suspecting that Stanford’s intentions were far from innocent or scientific in nature. But Stanford would do it with or without him, so Fiddleford assisted in order to keep him from working himself to death.

Ford also had a side project that he had started working on in college, his premonitions and sensitivity to changes in the universe leading him to experiment with harnessing those frequencies and applying them to his ability to see glimpses of the future in an unconscious state, increasing their strength with an amplifier so he could see into the future whenever and wherever he pleased.

He very nearly rendered himself braindead on multiple occasions.

When Fiddleford found out about Project Prescience, by quite literally walking in on one of Stanford’s tests, he aided Stanford in repurposing a biker helmet in order to implant the amplifier and external neural connectors into the frame. Once activated with a press of a discrete button on the side of the helmet, the system amplified Stanford’s premonitions to visions of future pathways.

Refining the tech takes Stanford and Fiddleford four years, but it’s ready by the time the portal is finished. They test it before Stanford gears up to go through, successfully entering the multiverse in an alternate dimension identical to his own except Gravity Fall was never founded. He stands in the middle of a forest where the Shack would’ve been, using the built-in communication device in his helmet to keep Fiddleford updated.

Stanford returns to his dimension and they shut down the portal, working on a way to shield their dimension from outside forces. Stanford designs a strong spell using unicorn hair to erect a barrier around their dimension, as well as performing a ritual on himself so he can come and go from his dimension as he pleases.

Also, Stanford convinces Fiddleford to build the memory gun by arguing that he could remain anonymous by using it on anyone who discovered his true identity. Unfortunately, Stanford intends to go behind Fiddleford’s back and use it to steal a Stanley from another Dimension. The memory gun still has an addictive quality, but only when it's used on the same person several times, but Stanford usually only has to use it on someone once.

[marlynnofmany]

Singing the Return

(A followup to Singing the Approach)

Our ship touched down like usual, with the captain in the cockpit along with a pilot (it was Kavlae’s shift), talking to the locals about where to park. In a slight departure from usual, this landing pad wasn’t anywhere near the ground. It was on top of a cactus-tree-thing that thankfully (very thankfully) didn’t sway in the wind.

I waited in the cargo bay with Zhee. He was a little twitchy, flicking his antenna and shuffling his legs and generally not holding still. I wasn’t about to say anything about it, but I suspected Zhee wasn’t a fan of heights.

Luckily for him, the landing pad was broad enough that he didn’t need to get close to the edge. Unluckily for him, Captain Sunlight had suggested that he be part of the delivery crew today because he’d been there when we met the clients before, and they would be expecting him.

With the amount he was flexing his pinchers, you’d think he was the one the clients had offered to give a tour of their skyscraper cactus city.

As the bay door started to open, Zhee asked me, “Did you check if that belt has a full charge?”

“Yes I did,” I told him, pushing the button on my gravity belt to display a full line of power lights. “And Mimi even looked it over for loose wires or whatever. I’m all set.”

“Good,” Zhee said, angling his torso so that his front half was higher — the Mesmer equivalent of standing up straight. I was continually amused by how much praying mantises resembled centaurs, and how much this particular alien species resembled Earth bugs. This wasn’t the time to bring it up, though.

The door was open all the way now, and there was Captain Sunlight, come to lead the way out. I could see a cluster of many-limbed locals waiting outside in the bright sun. The landing surface looked like it was made of red rocks mined nearby. Hopefully they were stable on top of this cactus-tree. The captain waved us forward: Zhee with the crates on a hoversled and me singing my best approximation of the local greeting song.

I’d practiced it on the way here. It was high-pitched but slow, like a songbird in slow motion. Or, more accurately, like a songbird trying to sing like a whale. This particular culture interacted regularly with their ground-bound evolutionary cousins, who wouldn’t have made it past the first climbing spike on these cactus towers.

The Tree-grabber in front stepped forward, chirping a reply song, then switching to the more recognizable trade language. “Greetings! We are delighted to smell you.” He waved his mousy ears happily, all four arms folded in front of him.

“And we you,” replied Captain Sunlight, whose people actually said that kind of greeting themselves. Her yellow scales were extra bright in this sun. “Would you like to inspect the merchandise?”

They would. Zhee did his part by prying open the crates with his mighty mantis arms — I don’t know why the supplier of these fruits insisted on packaging them this way, but it was good we had him along — and the Tree-grabbers all made a big deal of sniffing the fruits. The antigrav belts in the other crate got sniffed too, though thankfully they didn’t stink.

I could smell the fruits from where I was standing; that sour smell made my eyes water even at a distance. But no one was paying attention to me, busy as they were with signing for the delivery on the tablet that Captain Sunlight held out. Zhee put the lids back on. I wiped my eyes and admired the view. It was a nice scenic desert scrubland out there, with only the other cactus-trees in the way. I could see the entire sprawling city where the Ground-grabbers lived, and just barely make out the buildings on the distant Air-grabber mesa.

“Are you still interested in a tour?” someone asked.

I turned back and smiled without baring teeth. “Yes please!”

The lead Tree-grabber was returning the tablet to Captain Sunlight while the others moved the crates onto their own low-tech wheeled cart. Behind them, a hatch slid open in the red stones of the landing pad. Zhee towed the hoversled back toward our ship as soon as it was empty.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me. “Travel with care,” she said, which was a polite way of urging me not to trip and fall off the cactus.

“I will,” I told her. “And I have my phone if anything comes up.” That covered a lot of ground. We’d already discussed keeping an eye out for possible delivery needs: offworld items that I might tactfully suggest to the locals. They wouldn’t have thought to ask about the antigrav belts if the subject hadn’t come up in conversation the last time we were here.

“Then kindly follow me to the handpath,” said the many-limbed monkey-mouse. Dang, what was his name? I thought. He had a name. It translated as just a sound. Chirp, right, that’s what it was. I knew that. Totally professional over here. I kindly followed Chirp in the direction of the handpath.

Which was over the edge, because of course it was. Metal handrails like the kind I usually saw at swimming pools waited next to the steps. Chirp led the way.

I set the gravity belt to “catch me if I suddenly plunge downward,” and followed.

I like climbing, right? Big fan. I was all over the playground as a kid, and I never really stopped. It’s particularly fun when I get to be “the one who can reach things high up,” or otherwise be appreciated for climbing a tree or a spaceship or what have you. Occasionally I’ll meet someone else who enjoys being above the ground. Most species seem to prefer being on a safe, level surface.

Not these guys. Wow. I was glad that Captain Sunlight had insisted on the gravity belt, because this was intense. The entire city street system were basically ladders on the outside of skyscrapers.

“This handpath is designed with elders and the occasional visitor in mind,” Chirp called up to me. “Artificial steps and platforms placed regularly.” When I looked down, I saw that he was indeed standing on a platform already, which even had a railing around it. There were more ladders on either side, and other platforms that could be reached with the help of metal handholds.

“That’s very considerate,” I said. Other cactus-trees were close enough that I could watch the agile citizens scurry along the surfaces, using only the natural cactus spikes and small branches. Wild. “Do you have any handpaths inside?” I managed to make it sound casual as I stepped down onto the platform with a perfectly normal heart rate. There was a door here that I hadn’t seen from above.

“There are some,” he said. “Mostly for emergencies.”

I had to laugh. “That’s the opposite of where I’m from.”

“Really?” He perked up in curiosity. “How so?”

“We have tall buildings like this that we made,” I said with a wave toward the towering plants. “Nothing on Earth grows this big, but we can build it. And we do all our travel between levels inside, except for emergency escape ladders on the outside.”

“Fascinating!” Chirp said. “I suppose if you make the whole things yourselves, you can make sure the inside is strong enough to support as many rooms as you need.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I agreed, laying a palm against the smooth cactus wall. “These are pretty soft at the core, huh?”

“Oh yes, that’s why the rooms are kept strictly to the outer layer,” Chirp said. “Come in; let me show you.”

He opened the door and I got ready to duck, since it was just under human height, then a rapid succession of shadows passed over us.

Chirp made an irritated click. “Air-grabbers, come to get in the way again!”

I looked, curious to see what they actually looked like. Both the Tree-grabbers and the Ground-grabbers had complained about them last time.

They looked a lot like I expected: bats with skinny arms held close while they flew. Everybody seemed to have six limbs on this planet.

And varying opinions about personal space. The Air-grabbers fluttered around the cactus towers, inspecting anything that caught their interest. They circled people carrying groceries. They poked their heads into open doors, only to get shooed back out. They arrowed in on the spaceship parked above. And they flew past me repeatedly, almost enough of them to run into each other. High-pitched voices floated on the breeze, but none of them addressed us directly.

“Inside,” Chirp said, opening the door. I followed him in. He shut it firmly, leaving the squeaking cloud of bats outside.

The ceiling was a bit low here, but at least this was a proper civilized room, not something carved directly from the wet cactus innards. Multiple desks, counters, and couches made it look like an info center, or some other kind of “just arrived from above” hub. I wondered if there was a lot of travel between cactus cities here. Several locals waited in line.

Then someone else rushed in after us, complaining in her own chittering language, and she pulled up short when she saw the tall alien bent over by the door.

“Hello,” I said.

“My greetings,” she said, edging sideways. “Pardon.” With a quick arm gesture that was probably polite — one to her chest and three outward — she hurried off to stand in line. Everyone else was staring.

I’ve been stared at plenty in my time, so this was only a little awkward. I waved. Small windows that I hadn’t noticed in the walls flickered with passing shadows.

Chirp said, “I apologize for the Air-grabbers. They hardly make a visit pleasant.”

“Is there any way to ask them nicely to leave?” I asked. “I assume you’re tried discussing it with their leaders?”

“Many times.” Chirp looked tired. “They don’t care. As far as they’re concerned, the air is their territory, and it’s our poor luck that we have to breathe it.”

“How rude,” I murmured, not wanting to cast judgement on an alien culture. But my present audience more than agreed.

“Yes, they are very rude,” Chirp said, working up to a proper rant. “Shouting at them does no good, since they just find it funny. Bad weather will make them leave, but that’s a problem for us too, and hardly something we can conjure up on a whim. Though they did seem to dislike the sound of the wind through the observatory when half the windows were left open; that we could probably do on purpose. Not very helpful here, though.”

“What kind of sound was it?” I asked, half an idea forming.

“A very high shriek,” he told me. “Almost too high to hear. The wind did some strange things with those windows.”

“I wonder if you could ward them off with noise,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said, not sounding terribly optimistic. “Like I said, yelling doesn’t help, and that’s loud too.”

Somebody else scrambled through the door, complaining. This guy didn’t even see me, just slamming the door and hurrying forward like he was ready to have words with whoever was in charge here. Maybe he was. More shadows passed over the windows.

“Can I try something?” I asked. “A quick loud noise? I’ll do it outside.”

He looked curious at that. “Go ahead. Just make sure not to startle anyone on the handpaths nearby.”

“Of course,” I said. Then I turned my back on the staring eyes, opened the door, and stepped out to where I could stand up to my full height.

No Tree-grabbers nearby. Perfect. I put two fingers in my mouth and let loose with the most ear-piercing whistle I could muster.

Startled bats changed course in midair, flapping and diving to get away, a cloud of chattering alarm and confusion. Judging by the shadows, some of the ones from above had lifted off as well.

I watched for a moment to see that they kept their distance, then I ducked back inside.

“That seemed to work,” I told Chirp.

Chirp was rubbing his ear. “I’m not surprised. Very loud. How well did it work?”

I waved him outside to take a look for himself. He perked up when he saw how far the Air-grabbers had moved back. “That’s the best result I’ve seen yet! I’m sure some of it might be from the surprise of it all, but even so.”

“You said the wind shriek was almost too high to hear,” I said. “Do you think the Air-grabbers can hear sounds that you can’t quite pick up?” Their ears were bigger, but what did I know?

“Now that,” Chirp said decisively, “Is an idea worth pursuing.”

“So there’s this animal on my planet called a dog,” I said. “And a certain kind of whistle that only they can hear…”

By the time my tour was over, I had a representative of the city very interested in having us deliver some offworld noise-makers that might help them keep the peace.

(The rest of the tour was nice; they had some impressive architecture inside those cactuses, and everyone greeted me politely. I didn’t fall off the side once.)

When I climbed back up the ladder to the landing pad, taking care not to focus on the long drop behind me, I was surprised to find a handful of Air-grabbers perched there in conversation with the captain.

Chirp made a disapproving grunt, but said nothing as we walked over.

“Ah, welcome back!” Captain Sunlight said to me. “It looks like our next visit will involve a delivery of fruit to the other above-ground city in these parts.”

The Air-grabber in front smiled with sharp teeth. “Ours is the best.”

“As you say,” Captain Sunlight agreed politely.

“We will need the items delivered directly to an entrance,” said the Air-grabber. “Not to the high ground. Is that something you can do?”

Chirp muttered something that sounded like “Knew it.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship has some very stable thrusters, and talented pilots. And, failing that—” She looked at me. “Someone experienced with antigrav belts and high places.”

I chuckled and turned off the safety. “That you do.”

~~~

There's an exciting mini-project coming out next week! Details here!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 18 - Zinovians

Right, let’s talk another major species! The Zinovians are the other really ‘big’ species in Torchship on the level of the Aquillians, the folks you’ll be dealing with often. They’re not as widespread or numerous as the Aquillians, but they’re a powerful and highly present political force in multiple astrostates, and the shared history they have with humanity have set us on a collision course.

The most important thing to know about the Zinovians is that they got exiled from their own homeworld by the Aquillian Empire about four hundred years prior to the events of the game and scattered across the stars. This has created several very distinct groups of Zinovians to encounter or play as, with sizable cultural, political, and even genetic differences between them. The majority settled in a single state which humanity allied with during their war against the Aquillians; the Zinovians are the reason we caught up to Local Space’s tech level so quickly. 

We promptly paid them back by making peace with the Empire instead of helping them take their homeworld back. They’re still not over it.

Oh, also; all the alien species names in Torchship are exonyms. The Zinovians weren’t originally called that by humans; it’s a (derogatory) descriptive name that emerged after the war to describe the structure of their government by unflatteringly comparing it to the guy whose bureaucratic decisions laid the groundwork for Stalin’s rise to power, and it stuck where the competing approximations of their endonyms failed. As is a general theme with the Zinovians, this is a mutual kind of awful; their name for us is, literally, “The Little Traitors”.

Biology

The Zinovians are another of the local humanoid species, though they’re a little more alien looking than the Aquillians, who could pass for human with a hat on. They’re one of the most diverse species in Local Space; like Humans, they have no taboo on genetic engineering and have used it to adapt themselves to a variety of physical and social environments. But there’s still some commonalities across groups.

Zinovians are cat-people, though this is less ‘cute kittycat girl’ and more ‘oh god, there’s a panther on the loose!’. Think the Puma Sisters from Dominion Tank Police. They have tall tufted ears, retractable claws on their hands and feet for both climbing and hunting, and a lot of subgroups have vestigial tails. They’re descended from apex ambush predators with a similar hunting strategy to leopards, complete with hauling kills up trees, which gradually developed complex social structures in response to changing environmental pressures. 

As the only major sapient species of obligate carnivores in Local Space, their transition to sapience was largely driven by the complex competitive politics of reproductive suppression to avoid overhunting, which gradually shifted toward tool use for reshaping the environment to increase hunting yields. Their version of the agricultural revolution was the invention of the fishing net and nomadic groups settling along coastlines.

That gives us our first trait, the aptly named Ambush Predator Evolutionary Outlier trait. This gives some pretty meaty bonuses to short bursts of physical activity, but means you take Fatigue more quickly in return.

Zinovians have distinct structures of long hair and short fur; their fur and skin share pigmentation, which can make it hard to tell which is which at a glance. The amount, lengths, and colouration of fur has a dizzying degree of variance (with colours mostly clustered in the red/yellow/green range) thanks to their ancestors having some pretty cool camo fur patterns; those largely became solid colours in the transition to sapience, but you get deliberate or accidental genetic throwbacks. 

The claws give you the Built-In Weapons Trait; these are serious business, about as dangerous as walking around with iron daggers on hand at all times. This is connected to the somewhat-muted Zinovian pain response; with sociability being a relatively recent evolutionary development, pain’s signalling function of ‘stop and get help’ is less neurologically developed, meaning that Stiff Upper Lip here represents quite literally feeling less pain.

Finally, Zinovian sexual dimorphism and gender politics are a fascinatingly complex subject. Their crash evolutionary development of sociability has left rather significant holdovers from when their ancestors were highly hierarchical matrilineal fission-fusion societies resembling something between spotted hyena clans and lion prides. The psychological developments are no more present than in humans, of course (though, like in humans, pop science evolutionary psychology does crop up socially), but some of the physiological aspects have stuck around.

So, first off, baseline Zinovian sexual dimorphism is a bit exaggerated compared to humans, with females being larger. This is a bit more than the relatively small differences between human sexes; their evolutionary adaptation trait suggests you can take Efficient Metabolism over Ambush Predator if you want to play the far end of baseliner male dimorphism, more optimised for wandering off to find groups with gaps in the hierarchy than challenging it. This dimorphism has been genetically reduced in some Zinovian groups and exaggerated in others.

The other big thing is that Zinovians have two sets of sex expression, termed ‘major’ and ‘minor’ sexes, which is a holdover from alternative reproductive strategies that developed around the strict hierarchies of their presapient ancestors. Essentially, about 3-5% of Zinovians naturally develop what we might term inverted secondary sexual characteristics, with no way to tell before they hit puberty. Like, naturally occurring transgender hormone balances, sorta kinda. And then you layer socially constructed gender on top of that, and it gets complicated, with different cultures having vastly different answers to the social status of sex expressions, transgender people, etc…

Yeah, it’s an excuse to roll up your sleeves and get on some next-level gender stuff with these cat people. Don’t let it be said we don’t know our audience.

In the Zinovian Sphere

Okay, first off, they don’t call it that. We call it that, because it makes them sound like an evil hegemony. They call themselves the Universal Republic, and call us the Human Star Empire. See? This is a whole thing.

The Zinovian Universal Sphere Republic is the largest political body the Zinovians have and are in many ways the ‘second power’ of Local Space, being the largest unified group after the Star Union in the aftermath of the Aquillian Empire shattering like a pane of glass. Unified is being kind of generous, though; the Zinovian Sphere is more like a loose federation of eight semi-independent ministries which once had specific duties in the unified government, but who have gradually developed into messy mini-states within the larger whole. 

The logos of the Ministries. Resources, Loyalty, Labour, Peace, Space, Life, Sanitation, and Security. Once specialized, all now form mini-governments in their own right, complete with their own militaries.

They symbolize a borehole mine, a watchful eye, a churning vat, an interstellar transmission, a rocket launch, cell division, water purification, and a watchtower.

The Universal Republic began with the ragged survivors of their homeworld’s uprising against the Aquillians being directed to a group of marginally-habitable high-gravity worlds in a star cluster near the Aquillian border with one of their distant rivals, to be used as a buffer state and early warning system. Their founding ideology of hopeful liberation was one of the many victims of starvation, decompression, dehydration, and radiation poisoning that characterised this exodus and the crash terraforming projects that followed.

As a direct result, the Universal Republic adheres to an apocalyptic socialism the Union calls Social Triage; resources must be held in common to be distributed to maximise return. In accordance with ability, disregarding need.  It’s the cold logic of a mass casualty event, applied to entire societies and lingering long after the emergency is over. It’s a relic of the days when a community leader had to stand up in the shelter and tell a thousand people they will only have calories for eight hundred, when neighbouring communities would exchange rosters of their population so unbiased choices could be made as to who gets to live. 

They’re past the days of anyone actually starving, but that, uh, is going to leave a bit of a psychological mark. It’s the reason why their government can be eight Ministries in a trenchcoat and yet survive; for all their squabbling, the Ministries are dedicated with absolute zeal to not rocking the boat too much, in case it means somebody somewhere doesn’t get fed, and are equally dedicated to the dream of one day getting Lost Homeworld back and making the fucking elves pay for it.

Republican Zinovians are divided into three Identities for gameplay purposes. The first two represent the civilian population of the Republic, and share a bunch of interesting Traits. You get Heavyworlder, because the 12 worlds the Zinovians were forced to settle on were largely hovering around 1g. You get Radiation Hardened (Lesser type, with Radiation Absorbing Structures) and/or Built-In Armour, which represents the subdermal steel plates which are affected by most of the population; these plates are largely cultural now, but at one time these were there to keep major bones from absorbing too much radiation on worlds with marginal magnetic fields. You’re encouraged to take Psychrophile/Thermophile, or any other trait which reflects the harsh nature of whichever world you ended up on.

You also lose some traits. In the Republic, genetic engineering efforts have at times been directed to reducing sexual dimorphism as part of various (largely unsuccessful) efforts to combat matriarchal social structures. Republican citizens also get their claws removed as a public health and safety measure at a young age; this is largely seen as a kind of sad-but-necessary reality of modernity, and a lot of defectors to the Star Union go get them regrown or have mechanical replacements installed.

The first of the identities is the Citizens; these are the regular people of the Republic, the politically disenfranchised common folk with no overt loyalties to any one Ministry. As with all the major powers in Local Space, the Republic is dealing with an overabundance of labour; in the Republic this manifests as waiting. You don’t want for anything vital, the local Ministries work together to ensure you have food, shelter, education, and distraction, but what you’re issued is what you get, and what you’re issued is decided by a bureaucrat somewhere. If you want more, you sign up for a waiting list for job openings in the Ministries, and you wait.

Which is why there’s a wild black market among the common citizens, hence a recommendation for the Entrepreneur trait. Polyglot represents how these colonies were haphazard multicultural endeavours which maintain enclaves carrying on the traditions of Lost Homeworld, and War Veteran represents how the only widespread employment available to common citizens was the recruitment drive during the war.

The second group are the Ministry Families. The Ministries operate as densely entangled networks of nepotistic family groups, with entire departments run by extended clans. The definition of ‘family’ is pretty loose; Zinovian norms about adoption are extremely flexible. Ministry families live marginally better lives than the regular Citizens in material terms, but do so under constant scrutiny and the intense expectations of their families, creating an intense political thunderdome of inter- and intra-family competition.

This gets so serious that it's reflected in the main Ministry trait, Augment. If you’re a ministry couple expecting a kid, it’s not uncommon for the clan matriarch to drop by and talk about the job they have lined up for them when they grow up, so wouldn’t it be a good idea to make sure they’re well-suited for the role? This dovetails well with just about any other trait; you’re encouraged to think about what you were destined for and how your family tried to achieve that.

The final recommended trait is Foreign Connections, a Trait which gives you both friends and enemies in another state. Maybe those friends are family who still have your back… or maybe they’re the department you betrayed your family to in order to smuggle yourself out of the Sphere.

A fun detail about the Republic is that they’re intensely maltheistic; organised religion was one of the main tools of the Aquillian occupation, and a lot of them were very devout people. Given the subsequent traumatic Everything, the natural cultural conclusion was that their gods had sold them out to the occupiers, and when Lost Homeworld is taken back they’re going to make a point to lock their deities inside the temples and light a match. In the meantime, they practise with effigies. Their kids make them out of paper mache. It’s great fun for the whole family.

There’s one last Identity within the Republic, and they’re very different from the other two. The Republican Marines are a cultural group inside the state descended from a seafaring culture who had been given a position as warrior nobility under the Aquillian hierarchy; the uprising largely kicked off because they got sick of getting increasingly sidelined for foreign mercenaries and defected to the rebels. The Marines are essentially a separate nation bound by treaty to the Republic to serve as an apolitical military arm; though in theory they’re all soldiers, in practice the majority of them work the logistics that allow a small handful of them to be the scariest power-armoured infantrymen in the history of the galaxy.

Seriously. The main narrative purpose of Zinovian Marines is to act as a thing the GM can put in a scene to say to the players “nope, you need to talk your way out of this one, because you aren’t winning this fight”. They have rotary chainguns with sufficient armour penetration to shoot up your reactor from the top deck of your spacecraft, and their armour has articulating ERA shields that double as deck-clearing fragmentation mines. Your redshirts going up against them is going to look like that sick Astartes animation on youtube. Just don’t.

Marines get to keep their claws, and obviously get recommended the War Veteran trait. It’s also noted that you are extremely visually distinct and it's impossible to hide it; Marines get elaborate facial tattoos and piercings specifically so they cannot shirk their duties to the Republic and try to become a civilian. 

In the CNFT

The Zinovian Marines are one offshoot of the seafaring warrior culture, one that ended up in the Republic. But a lot of them ended up elsewhere, either through surrendering to Aquillian forces during the war and being repurposed, or fleeing reprisals. Like most refugees in Local Space before the Star Union became a thing, those people ended up in the CNFT, alongside some other Zinovians who quickly became culturally integrated.

So what do a bunch of soldiers do when they arrive somewhere with combat experience but no money? They offered their services as mercenaries within the cutthroat anarcho-capitalist nightmare of the Territories, and they were good at it.

The modern SEA-WARRIORS OF ZINOVIA! are what happens when an entire culture’s financial security depends on being able to sell themselves as the best mercenaries in the entire galaxy, playing up their foreign heritage and biological quirks as an intergenerational advertising scheme. According to the marketing, the Sea-Warriors are a barely-civilised society of bloodthirsty warrior women whose rigid codes of honour demand they seek out war and conquest, and they can be yours for the low low price of $29.99! They wear the furs of exotic animals and get cool tattoos and carry four-foot long cultasses around in public and pick fights in bars with the hope of getting cool scars. Where the Republicans downplayed their sexual dimorphism with genetic engineering, the Sea-Warriors exaggerated it (mostly in that the ladies got even taller). They even gene-modded their tails back in and made them fuzzier to look more animalistic.

And it worked. Every politician has a Zinovian bodyguard, every criminal kingpin has Zinovian enforcers, and when you turn on the TV you’ll see Zinovian athletes playing full-contact sports, chasing perps in cop shows, and selling gene-therapy treatments at the commercial break. The CNFT’s image of physical prowess is a six-foot-five cat woman with tattooed abs and a massive machete leading a platoon in the conflict zone of the week.

The thing is… it’s not entirely an act. It started as one, sure, and the ones pushing the envelope will wink and nod and admit to exaggerating, but a culture can’t perform a persona this long without becoming true believers. Yes, they put the furs and swords away and fight in power armour under a swarm of autonomous drones like everyone else when it comes down to it, their mercenary corporations have slick PR operations and genetic modification programs and R&D departments, there’s Zinovians in suits negotiating with the government over protection contracts, but at the end of the day this still is a culture growing up with a self-image that the coolest thing they can possibly be is a barbarian warlord with a laser pistol in one hand and a sword in the other.

The first recommended Trait from all this is Augment, because you don’t keep your edge in a market like this without a bit of help. Imposing reflects the brand, obviously, and you still have your Built-In Weapons (getting declawed is seen as a fate worse than death). You have the fun Cultural Tool trait to represent the exaggerated cutlasses that your honour demands you carry in public, and War Veteran is an obvious pick for a culture where the Territorial Army and then subsequent mercenary work is the only real career path for most. 

Finally, you’re encouraged to take Redundant Vitals, because a lot of Sea Warriors opt into a series of genetic and surgical procedures to duplicate a few of their vital organs, just in case. It makes getting life insurance so much cheaper that it’s always worth it. 

The Greater Diaspora

The final set of identities is a bit of a catch-all for everyone else, and is more a high-level summary than the detailed Trait lists for other identities by its nature. There’s a ton of Zinovians living spread out in Local Space; descendents of refugees, migrant workers, and ancient settler projects. Like with the Aquillians (or the human wildcat colonies), it's an excuse to take the basic archetype and make it your own. One part of this characterisation is the fact that the Universal Republic wants very badly to use this diaspora as an arm of state power, and its various Ministries attempt to do so, with various levels of influence and success. There’s also a fair number integrated into the Star Union, many of them advisors who came over during the war and decided they liked it better.

Finally, there’s a note that the Zinovian Sphere is, well, not just a Universal Republic in name; they actually do have a number of alien species among their ranks as well, who will be culturally integrated at various levels using the above Identities. There’s a fair number of humans who have jumped ship to the Universal Republic in the same way, mostly people who think the Star Union is too pacifist or forgiving for its own good, or advisors horrified by the voters back home leaving their allies in the lurch. Said humans are largely integrating into Ministry families at this point.

[artbyblastweave]

When did Luthor shift between his 80s Corrupt Amoral Business guy to his more modern Tech-Genius-Supersuit-Amoral-Business-Guy persona?

I'm not actually entirely sure. I'm not even entirely sure that this has decisively happened or finished happening. I remember that when I first watched BvS, the silicon valley whiz-kid take on his character felt novel- it felt, to teenaged me, like the same kind of idiom update for the present day as when Byrne turned him into a corrupt businessman in the first place. But I didn't have my finger on the pulse of his 2012-2015 characterization in mainline comics because that was the height of New-52 induced editorial flailing and I'd kind of given up actively following anything they were doing, so for all I know they'd been tinkering with that direction for a minute. I think that My Adventures With Superman shows that that particular direction for the character is a recognizable thing now, a version of his characterization that they can deploy without fan outcry.

I think that you can maybe point to the "President Lex" era, the stuff that was going on in 52 where he was playing the cool respectable philanthropist (before murdering all those people) as a plausible evolutionary link between the two stages. And dogging the whole thing are the versions of Lex's character from the 40s through the 60s where he was just an insane mad scientist totally on the outs from polite society, no corporate enterprise to speak of whatsoever even when he was personally moving and shaking with the supervillianously accrued resources of a small nation. No fleshed out depiction of the guy that I've seen has ever totally abandoned all of the elements from the other, somewhat mutually exclusive depictions; even My Adventures With Superman, the second big take on the Eisenberg style for the character, is doing the wink-and-nod to his silver-age origin as a one-time respectable boy genius whose jealousy of Superman/hair loss ultimately drove him insane. I'm not sure there's a straight line to draw.

[self-loving-vampire]

the ideological leaders of the transhumanist movement are generally eugenicists or soft eugenicists. you can define "true" transhumanism however you like, but the loudest voices and major historical precedents are all tied to eugenic beliefs. this is embodied inherently in the term "transhumanism". if we hold the transcendance of human limitations as an instrumental value, that neccesarily implies some hierarchy of ranking people by ability that is seen as desireable. imo transhumanism in this form rather than decentering the human enshrines the worst aspects of it. for these reasons i prefer "posthumanism" and think people who identify with transhumanist as a label should reconsider if they don't already agree with that stuff

Eugenics doesn't even make sense as a vehicle for transhumanism if you know the first thing about evolutionary biology, not to mention that it doesn't align with transhumanist values. Even if you somehow got it to work it would take ages, would not help you individually, and would not enable most people to do body modifications.

Even in a best case scenario where you mainstreamed consensual genetic modifications of fetuses so no one gets clinical depression anymore or something rather than doing what most people usually associate with the word that would still leave already-living transhumanists out.

The closest thing to actual transhumanism would be medicine in general, especially given that the top human limitation that people want to overcome is aging.

The second closest thing would be radical and consensual body modifications such as transition.

Not to mention the fact that conservatives, TERFs, neo-nazis, and etc. use transhumanism as a sort of bogeyman that shows up in their conspiracy theories.

That's Jennifer Bilek citing a neo-nazi as a source on how trans people are part of a jewish transhumanist plot. Bilek's ideas are laundered and mainstreamed into TERF worldviews, being referenced by many high-profile radfems like Julie Bindel, Helen Joyce, LGB Alliance, Allison Bailey, Sheila Jeffreys, and Transgender Trend.

Obviously not all reactionaries think the same (and neither do all transhumanists) but it doesn't look as if transhumanism has anything close to mainstream acceptance among them. In fact, anti-transhumanism stems from a lot of the same bioessentialist impulses appeals to nature that motivate transphobia.

Furthermore I think you may be mistaking "rich and famous people" for "ideological leaders". As if the anarchist catgirls are loyal disciples of Peter "Trump 2024" Thiel or something.

When you think about transhumanism the first thing to come to mind probably should not even be rich normie cis men in suits who want to control other people's bodies. They're generally not the ones actually embodying or even advocating for these values and rights. You would unironically get more transhumanist thought out of Touhou.

It's not even a "you can define transhumanism however you want" thing. That's a term that actually has a definition that is not even difficult to grasp.

Some of us don't want to be human or subject to all the horrible things that come with human forms. Some of us don't want people to get sick and die and reject bioconservative arguments that "nature knows best" or that modifying your body is automatically bad.

The central idea is that you have a body that belongs to you that you should be able to customize to your liking even in ways that are not "natural" or "normal". Arguably all kinds of assistive technology, and even things like clothing and cooking, are transhumanist tech. We are not born wearing shoes after all.

[eightyonekilograms]

I went to the Apple Store yesterday to try the scripted demo of their VR headset. My overall impression is that it's the best possible execution of what might be a fundamentally flawed idea.

The passthrough video is pretty incredible. It's somewhat dimmer than reality, and the color accuracy is just OK, but it's more than good enough to feel like you're looking through clear displays at the real world. I'm told the passthrough on the Quest 3 is even better, but haven't tried that and can't comment. One thing is that there is a weird motion blur effect when you turn your head, I'm not sure if that's a display tech limitation or introduced deliberately by the software as a workaround for a different display tech limitation.

The resolution is 4K per eye, which, as mentioned, is more than enough for a powerful sense of presence in the real world. One of the nifty bits of the demo was when you turn the dial to tune out the world and suddenly you're sitting by a mountain lake, and the feeling of actually being there is overwhelming. The dystopian implications of needing a VR headset to sit at a mountain lake aside, it would be cool to have one just to have your office be anywhere you can imagine. Not $3500-before-tax cool, but cool.

Wow sports leagues are going to love this thing. I don't give a shit about sports and even I was thinking, "If the NBA put a stereoscopic camera courtside and sold you games for $50 a pop, I'd absolutely buy that"

But 4K per eye is not enough to do work, not even close. The experience of using normal computer-y applications on this was not unlike plugging your laptop in to a TV that's at the normal TV distance. You can do it, it works, but it's not anyone's preferred way of working. Text is amazingly legible, but only at sizes that are equivalent to having a single webpage take up your entire 4K monitor at normal monitor distance.

It is not particularly comfortable. Part of this might be that the store demo makes you use the "catcher's mitt" strap, which only goes around the back of your head and so gravity has to be countered only by the pressure of the thing against your face. Reviewers have said that if you use the other band that goes over your head the situation is better, but still.

A lot of early comments were making fun of Apple for having the battery be an external thing you put in your pocket and attach with a wire, but I think that's just fine: we all walk around with giant batteries in our pockets anyway, and anything you can do to have less weight on your head is a Good Thing. But then Apple took all those weight savings and spent them on making the stupid thing out of metal and glass instead of polycarbonate. It's nuts! It's like if you made a car that was 500kg lighter because you invented magical tech for keeping the engine somewhere else, and then went "great! with all the weight savings now we can build the body out of lead". Apple, you don't need to fear plastic. Plastic is good! Plastic built modern civilization.

You control it with a combination of eye tracking and pinch gestures. This is the main piece of evidence of my "best version of a bad idea" thesis: it works really, really well; so well that I can tell this is probably an evolutionary dead end. It's just fine— miraculous, even— for dragging windows around and doing the basic stuff the in-store demo has you do. It's amazing that you can more or less have your hands anywhere, including on your lap, and the recognition works perfectly (by contrast with the HoloLens I tried 5 or so years ago where the gesture recognition was total crap). But it's immediately obvious that you can never do serious manipulation of your computing environment with this.

The takeaway is that it's incredible for passive consumption of specifically-made media, assuming that ever exists at scale. But it will be a long time before we're gogged in like Hiro Protagonist to do our office jobs this way.

[danbensen]

I’m trying something new here, which is to write off the cuff, with little editing, and press the “post” button without much thought. I’m doing so because this is the first spare moment I’ve had to respond to 

Bassoe’s response to my review of C.M. Kosemen’s soon-to-be published book All Tomorrows, and I don't want to let this interesting conversation wither on the vine.

If you had trouble following that last sentence, it’s enough that you know this: we’re talking about the evolutionary future of humanity.

The Machine-God Scenario

Bassoe talks about “machine-gods...obsessed with tending to the well-being of an inferior species” where “the only remaining selection pressure is desire to reproduce.”

Another selective pressure would be to make ourselves adorable to the machine-gods. Perhaps the gods have a template for what they consider to be human, in which case we'll only be able to evolve in ways that don't deviate from that template. I'm reminded of a Stephen Baxter story (Mayflower II) in which humans on a generation ship turn into sub-sapient animals, but they still press buttons on the control panel because that behavior is rewarded by the ship's AI.

The Super-Tech Scenario

But I agree that even without a super-tech future where all our material needs are met, the availability of contraception means that there's a selective advantage to people who don't use contraception. There are many ways for evolution to make that happen. An instinctive desire for babies or an instinctive aversion to contraception are two such ways. I remember a Zach Weinersmith cartoon where he jokes about future humans with horns on their penises that poke holes in condoms, but of course any such physical adaptation won't be able to keep up with technological innovation. We will have to *want* babies.

Another option is (ala Kurt Vonnegut's Galapagos) that future humans aren't smart enough to use contraception.

The Artificial Womb Scenario

In this case, I think the most selected-for humans are the ones that are most efficiently produced by the artificial wombs. Maybe it's easier to pump out limbless grubs, which are fitted with cyborg arms (see John C. Wright's Myrmidons in his Count to the Eschaton Sequence). The form they take will depend on the parameters of the machines' programming. (see also Vanga-Vangog's The Endpoint)

The Collapse Scenario

I think this scenario is unlikely. If "life, uh, finds a way," then intelligence finds even more ways. When one resource runs out, we find another. The mere fact that you don’t know what the next resource is just means we haven’t found it yet.

But say for the sake of argument that there's a hard limit to technological progress (ala Vernor Vinge's A Deepness in the Sky) or science really is like mining, and it takes infinitely increasing resources to make the next marginal gain in technology. In both cases, you'd expect the graph of human advancement to look like a population when it hits carrying capacity. Exponential growth (we're doing that now) followed by a cycle of die-offs and re-growths, converging to a horizontal mean.

With no ability to innovate, natural selection would take over from technological progress. Once we’ve eaten all the meat and potatoes, there will be strong selection for people who can digest grass. I would expect humans in this case to diversify until our descendants occupy nearly every niche, absorbing most of the matter and energy available on Earth (at least). Whether these people are intelligent or not...probably not. @simon-roy seems to be hinting in this direction with his masterful comic series Men of Earth.

But I don't actually think collapse is likely. I bet that our population (and technological advancement) will not hit an asymptote, but will instead as progress according to a power law, as with the bacteria in Lenski's Long-Term Evolution Experiment.

The Mogul Scenario

Bessoe asks about a future in which “our cultural norms stick around indefinitely, those who generate more profit reproduce,” which I very much doubt.

In 20th century America, the more money you made, the fewer children you had. Now, it seems there's a saddle-shaped distribution, with the very poorest and the very richest women having the most children per woman. This is sure to change again, and faster than evolution can keep up. Perhaps you could say that if contraception pushes us to evolve an instinctive desire to have more children, and rich or powerful people will be in positions to gratify these instincts, then whatever traits make someone rich and powerful will be selected for.

Maybe, but now's a good time to go back to the Reich Lab's "Pervasive findings of directional selection," summarized here by the illustrious Razib Khan.

In comparing ancient to modern DNA, the Reich Lab found evidence for selective pressure in humans in Europe since the end of the Ice Age: increased intelligence, increased height, decreased organ fat, increased walking speed, decreased susceptibility to schizophrenia, increased immunity to many diseases, and, funnily, increased tendency to home-ownership and university education.

Obviously people weren't going to college in the Chalkolithic, but whatever traits make someone likely to go to college now have been selected for since the arrival of agriculture in Europe. You can paint a plausible picture of the sort of people who were most reproductively successful in the past six thousand years, and there is even some evidence for selection in the range of 1-2 thousand years. Aside from obvious things like immunity to smallpox and Bubonic plague, Europeans have gotten paler and blonder, and more of us are able to digest lactose than in Roman times.

But the 21st century is very different from the 1st, which in turn was very different from the pre-agricultural -70th. Maybe you can say that being smart, strong, and disease resistant have always been good, and being tall and baby-faced gets you some sexual selection (almost everyone seems to have evolved shorter jaws and lost their robust brow-ridges in parallel). So we can imagine future humans who just all look gorgeous.

read on (and see the pictures)

[churino]

Design for Sixshot

"Face" of the six clan, his twisted sense of honor tells him that he should look his targets in the eye before taking them out which led him to become more well known than his fellow six clan ninjas even if their job is to manipulate earth in secret

Sixshot is the most feared of the six clan ninjas, a group of transformers determined to keep humanity and machine separated, with his five alternate modes he's a one bot army and expresses various supernatural powers as a trait of the evolutionary mode switching shared by the six clan. Sixshot has the ability to allow energy to phase through his body without harm, as well as absorb various forms of energy and channel it into invisibility, illusion casting, and a corruptive touch which he can embue into his munitions that puts anything they hit under the control of the six clan's mysterious master while slowly reducing its victims to dust

But he is not just a heartless weapon, he's also a father. An unsavory man, he has been known to hang out in unsavory places and that eventually resulted in his son quickswitch, who he hopes to train into another deadly six clan ninja just like him. But weather its from pitty or opportunism he has taken on another deciple, after the cyberninjas rejected nightbird, sixshot took her under his wing, where she got along well with his son, each the other's first love, but as their training around the world continued, nightbird inadvertently exposed quickswitch to the true nature of things which led him to betray his father, while nightbird, still yearning for what he can teach her, has remained loyal, now he wants to hunt down his turncoat son before he can reveal the secrets of the six clan to the autobots

The truth being that the six clan doesn't just kill transformers who interact with humanity, they sell their resources. Energon among them to select unscrupulous human groups in exchange for their support to their mascarade, the capitalistic companies of the world, from food and drink to tech firms, put into those positions of power, supplied by cybertronian technology, with even something as harmless as a shower curtain manufacturer holding in their hands the power to take over the world if unchallenged, and if even one of them found out about it and acted on it, it would spell disaster not just for the six clan but for the entire earth itself

[ms-scarletwings]

Irken senses, and other ponderings

You know, every time I start to wonder if I’ve finally run out of things to coherently say on the whole “speculating about irken biology” matter, a whole something more is induced to hatch out of the dehydrated floam inside my skull. Between you and me, I think the eggs are triggered by ironic timing.

Anywho, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the world hypothetically through Irken eyes, and other sensory organs. Think I’ll go down them piece by piece, and to follow the pattern I’ve kept through my other Irken brain dumps, I will be drawing a huge amount of inspiration from real life arthropods. Yes, I’m very aware that realistically, any resemblance to earth insects would be coincidental from an alien species, and there’s plenty of room to make up whatever somewhat plausible explanation you can for any faucet of their anatomy. Personally, I like to run from the convergent evolution angle, since I find it no less grounded, full of potential connections the show itself all but begs me to draw, and just plain fun. Let’s get into it.

Also like towards the end there’s a whole section on the hypothetical edibility of Irkens because why not

Prelude: If you want to hear a little more behind my theory about the Irken diet revolving around sugar and a small portion of minerals, you can zip onto this analysis I did, in which I touch on some ideas of mine regarding the composition of Irken skin, their reaction to meat, etc. that works from the assumption that Irkens evolved out of an arthropod-like ancestor. Not necessary to get the gist of this one, but it is background context behind my thought process.

Sight

The Irken oculus is perhaps the most striking feature of the species, very much resembling those tiny crawling things they have been inspired by; however, it’s tougher to say exactly how far the similarity of their insides go. The eyes of most arthropods are in fact along the more simple branches of the evolutionary tree. We know that Irkens are not likely to possess compound eyes, like those found in flies and most other insects, because compound eyes are specialized for wide FOV ranges at the sacrifice of visual resolution quality. Instead, I see a much closer match to a fascinating exception or two found in Earth’s arachnids.

While most of them have utterly piss-poor vision, the hunting styles of jumping spiders necessitated a great deal of further specialization of the organs for depth perception, color differentiation, and sharp images. These are the purpose of those two huge shiners at the front (the other 6 boosting their range for detecting blurry peripheral movement and threats), and these are what bring their effective vision on a level much closer to that of familiar binocular mammals than their own six legged prey. Now I really think we are working with the base of what Irken peepers likely developed out of. One of the ways they have really diverged off is in the fact that while jumping spiders can only move their retinas, irkens seem as though they are able to move the lens of the eye themselves- or at the very least, Zim does, else the false pupils in his disguise contacts would not behave quite so convincingly. To speak about the lenses themselves, their eyes are not dry and exposed like most arthropods, speaking to a vulnerable sensitivity. They clearly have blinking eyelids, shed tears, and Zim even complains about the “scratchy” feeling of getting used to that part of his kid disguise.

(Funny sidenote: I’m like 90% sure that Zim did not have those contact lenses designed correctly for himself. Usually, if contacts feel that uncomfortable and keep falling off of the eye as easily as his do, it’s a sign of them being poorly fitted. This could be another symptom of his outdated/lower quality invader tech.)

Not only do Irkens have an assumed base vision resolution that seems more or less on par with human beings, but Invader elites are fitted with ocular implants that grant them a significantly greater advantage in this realm. We don’t know to a certainty how well improved an Irken soldier’s vision is, but Zim was confidently able, within seconds and under pressure, to pick out the area of town he lived in from what was miles away under night hours.

On the topic of night vision, I have a hunch that even without the cybernetics, these guys are adapted to see much better than we in dim to dark environments as well. Most of the early part of their life cycle is lived out in subterranean crèches. On the surface, daytime Irk is cast in a sunset red atmosphere. Oddly, a massive portion of their fashion and architectural aesthetics show a preference for these dark, warmer tones. Ruby is far and away the most common eye color in their kind. All of these facts suggest that warm-spectrum hues and pigments were incredibly common in the homeworld’s history, to point of indicating something about a cultural attraction to them- kind of like how humans put the color blue all over so much corporate branding and elsewhere. Zim’s favorite color has also been revealed to be purple. Most of all, given what I’ve seen of Irk’s, Blorch’s, and Devastis’s surface skies, AND Zim’s reaction to staring directly at the sun for more than a few seconds, I’m assuming that most Irkens are wholly unfamiliar with living in an environment as brightly lit as midday Earth.

I do think Irken eyes “glow” in the dark, but not in the emitting sense. Just more in the reflective one. This they would owe to a well developed tapetum lucidum, as seen in cats and deer and pretty much any animal to give off an eerie eye shine under the right lighting. To point back to arachnids, wolf spiders are speedy nocturnal murder machines with highly developed tapetum lucida, in their secondary eyes, at least. What I love the most about that is it makes it very easy to tell if you’re looking at a mother spider because her babies will give off the same eyeshine if you take a pic of one with the flash on.

Additionally, I won’t forget that sleep is no longer a necessity for our alien subjects. This alone gives them a major edge over any dinural race such as humanity. While Zim has his appearances to keep up during the day, the nighttime on Earth is actually when he is allowed the most free rein to work on his endeavors uninterrupted.

Sound

Ah, so this is the part where I rattle off the common theories we’ve collectively formed about Irken antennae as the replacement for an external ear, eh? Yes, but actually no…. jokes aside, it’s just no. I’ll get to the deal with antennae, but as you might imagine, hearing ability also varies all over the place in the insect world.

It is true that antennae play a large role in the hearing of some critters, such as mosquitoes, whose males use them to pick out the high frequency wing beats of nearby females in a swarm. Crickets, on the other hand, use sensory organs on their legs tuned to much lower sound ranges. There’s no one way to evolutionarily put together a sort-of ear, as well proven by the sheer amount of times it convergently happened in bugs and in how many creative ways.

They literally be designing themselves like me playing around in spore. If we’re not talking about that mosquito or honeybee example, then what we are referring to as an ear and most hearing insects is going to be an external tympanic organ. Most people who have passed high school biology would be able to recognize a visible tympanum in frogs- that circular thing right behind the eyes in most species, and understand it as their version of an ear drum. Many bugs’ tympanums are likewise thin chitinous membranes situated… potentially just about anywhere on the body (again, see above). This is what I think Irkens use as a primary hearing organ, in his case, probably situated on their heads in addition to the feelers. The latter organs I think would also be sensitive to general vibrations and subtler environmental cues, like wind direction and pressure changes, but the bulk of their hearing would be owed to the tympanum.

As far as the quality of their hearing, well, there’s not any sign it differs much from the human experience. Like us, they communicate through verbal language, and the existence of the “Dancing Arcade Game (but for aliens)” confirms at least a similar cultural propensity for music as an entertainment form. Zim is an outlier for the fact that he seems genuinely a little hard of hearing next to his kin, screaming as naturally as he talks and repeatedly mishearing (if hearing at all) people who are speaking directly at him. It’s clear something’s up with his hearing, but there’s no clear answer what and why. At first I was tempted to suggest something about sound passing much differently through the medium of earth’s atmosphere (kind of like how noise on Mars would sound muffled to us), but neither Tak nor Skoodge seemed to pick up the problem when they arrived. It really could be as simple as some kind of birth defect, or even glitches in how his corrupted PAK is processing the inputs it receives. Like many others, I want to imagine that his wig could be interfering too, since it covers the whole top portion of his head; as well, I noticed he has more of those incidents with it on than not.

Smell

Alrighty, NOW we can round back to focusing on the antennae, because this is actually the main thing our insects fine tuned theirs for. And when I say fine tuned- I mean fine tuned. Blood suckers that find their prey through the CO2 of their breath, flies that can pick up on potential food sources from miles away; In the land of the little, scent is everything. Beyond it being their main tool for exploring the environment for what to eat and what to avoid, chemical messages are the backbone of bug-to-bug communication. Pheromones are the divining rod of lonely spiders looking for a mate. They are the bugle of yellow jackets when rallying the nest to attack a threat, and they are the signals that govern about every single action an ant takes from adulthood until death. Obviously, Irkens are much more sight & hearing dependent than these comparisons, but they still have much more bodily specialization dedicated to this sense than we can relate to. For one, they are fastidiously hygienic. Like, “the care-bots from that really creepy episode of the Buzz lightyear cartoon” hygienic. We have yet to see any livable surface of Irk that is not sky to underground terraformed over in all-consuming metal infrastructure. There’s less than no sign of visible life besides the Irkens; ffs, there’s not even soil in sight. Not on Devastis, either. The Organic Sweep sounds like such a nice and pretty euphemism in the face of the actual horror of Blorch’s fate, and all to spare the boots of their military from touching even a speck of “unsavory alien filth”. They live in such a controlled and purified environment that I can’t even imagine the absolute assault on the senses Zim’s every day on our barbaric ball of dirt is. Over and over again he gives off the impression that the constant stink of this place is in fact his chief complaint about living among us. The majority of insults he throws toward humans relate to how they smell or the fact that he finds them “filthy”. We’re flat out nasty to him and I don’t blame him. Even relative to other animals, humans are especially RANK due to the combination of sweat, oils, and bacteria that coat our skin.

And believe it or not, I do think Irkens are in a position to talk shit in this regard. Zim is a really sweaty boi; however, I posed an idea back in that write up about Irken skin before- to summarize- that his kind maintain remarkably sterile cuticles due to the presence of a toxic chemical in their skin. This, I said then, could have been the key to Zim’s lice repelling trait, but I wasn’t so specific at the time about more than that. I got the idea from a group of millipedes that, when disturbed, can secrete hydrogen cyanide as a deterrent to predators. I like to imagine that Irkens can do a similar thing via sweating, not to thermoregulate like us, but as a stress response. It would at least explain why Zim seems like a very nervous sweater. Fun fact if you didn’t know, cyanide’s smell is similar to almonds.

I’m deadass telling you I think Irkens just smell like almond extract. Do with that what you will.

Touch

So, in writing this whole whatever it be, this part was the trickiest to come up with any productive analysis on. I’ve already guessed at what I think Irken skin feels most like (spoiler: hairless caterpillars) in the analysis I referenced up top. Zim being able to pass himself off as a human under the examination of the Skool nurse points to an average body temperature somewhere around our own. What I did find interesting while rewatching the series though was the sheer amount of pain tolerance on these invaders, except in one way. Can I extrapolate this fortitude to Irkens universally? Probably not! Zim is a member of the most elite of the most highly trained members of Irk’s military. I wouldn’t take what a seasoned veteran can handle and assume that’s the human floor in a nutshell, but our invaders CAN tell us quite a bit about their ceiling… starting with the fact that these bastards are ridiculously heat resistant. Irkens are a durable race broadly, but their reactions to extreme temperatures strike me as jaw-droppingly underwhelming, if anything.

Irkens DON’T like being engulfed in flames. It’s still a painful experience to them, but seemingly the kind they can pretty much walk off as soon as it’s over. Through explosions and fire we have seen Zim (and Skoodge) survive in one piece. We’ve seen The Massive take a whole dip into a burning star with no ill effects to the crew within. Most amazing to me was the time in Battle of the Planets when Zim willingly piloted Mars into grazing by the Sun at close range while trying to evade Dib. Totally exposed driver’s seat and he was no worse for wear after this.

Further in the comics we see this touched on in the Zimvoid arc. Zib’s favorite method of torturing the Zims under his training program was to torch them at random for sadistic amusement. Quite interestingly, though, Number 2 implies that their bodies do actually adapt to this treatment over time! Theoretically, Zims further along in the program have become all but invulnerable to fire entirely.

On the other hand, one of the truly most painful things Zim has been shown to experience is to have his skin chemically burned. It’s a strange sort of irony that Earth’s water would prove to be an incapacitating force to them in place of any inferno. He’ll smash his skull into the Voot’s windshield with enough force to pop out an eyeball and it’s whatever. Plenty of other things hurt, but he can power through. You turn a shaken can of soda or a bottle of bbq sauce on him and he’s just left screaming on the ground or screaming and running away. Whatever brutal sort of training he had to go through off world, it didn’t prepare him for this.

Taste

The perceptive side of this I think may not be too hard to figure out. Irken food, as alien as its actual composition could be, has been shown to be heavily analogous to human junk food. I hesitate to call what Irkens are scarfing down “meals” in the proper sense, because I’ve noticed that neither Zim nor his kin intrinsically understand the concept. When he’s trying to blend in as a human being, he puts a LOT of bizarre effort into convincing us that he, just like you inferior creatures, TOTALLY eats “food” on a regular basis like a normal person. When Irkens eat their own products, it’s all and only “snacks”. What follows is the conclusion that their eating habits are not structured into any schedule and that Irkens instead graze throughout the day as they please- and even possibly that eating altogether is more a recreation to them, instead of a necessary function to sustain life. Some fans have speculated that the PAK could provide an Irken with all of the necessary energy to survive absent of nutrition. I kind of want to contest this, given that caloric energy is only one purpose of taking in food… but it’s definitely the most immediate one. Nonetheless, they still eat constantly on screen and it all has to be going somewhere. Whether they need it or not, they still readily digest snacks (and presumably use those chemical building blocks to regenerate tissue damage) with a terrifying metabolic efficiency. Assuming that the resemblance of their snack foods and our leisure treats are not purely coincidental, one gathers that sweetness is the largest dimension of Irken cuisine. They are drawn most enthusiastically to carb-dense synthetic, plant, and possibly fungal matter in the same way that the human brain lights up at the prospect of fat and sugar-loaded meals. The flexible tongues of Irkens to me also resemble the nectar catching, segmented mouthparts of some bees. I would be willing to bet that they can taste salt, but jury’s out if it is something they crave, like us, or are repulsed by, like ants. That would have to come down to the scarcity (or not) of the resource on their home planet and whether or not desiccation was a serious threat in their natural history. In other regards, Zim shows strong negative reactions to most Earth foods, if not physically, than in his expressions. They definitely have powerful vulnerabilities to many human ingredients, and so are very sensitive to the presence of these toxins. I can’t imagine acidic or bitter substances are at all pleasant to them.

Now comes the much more interesting question I’ve thought way too long and hard about in the shower a time or two. Knowing that Irkens are likely a herbivorous breed, ergo, thankfully would have no interest in the consumption of the human race… what about the vise versa??? I don’t just want to know what they taste, but what would they taste like?

So, you’ve decided to mix it up for the thanksgiving dinner and forgo the same boring old bird for an Irken you have vanquished (via what I can only imagine was a freaking miracle of luck). What should you come to expect? Most importantly and I must emphasize this, the secret to preparing their meat is the same as Tolkien dwarves, you have to skin them before anything else. The separation of edible tissues from the cuticle is necessary to avoid ingesting the defensive toxins it contains. Even if the concentration is not enough to provide a danger to you, it could end up contributing an unpleasant, bitter flavor to the final product.

That done, discard the head and digestive organs. True as it may be that Irkens are wholly free of parasites, with a chance that the viscera could be edible, it’s not likely to taste that great and besides, do you really want to take chances with exposing yourself to an entirely foreign gut biome you have no immune adaptations to? And don’t even think about the brain- I don’t care how rare the infection rates are, alien prions are a big no. If you happen to run into any cybernetic implants during the cleaning, however, set them aside! They could be worth a small fortune in the right circles. But, for the purpose of eating we’re really concerned with the muscle tissues, a delicate white meat with a texture similar to fresh crab. The bones need not be wasted, and are fine to leave in, or can be boiled on their own to make a flavorful stock which can be added to soups or a delightful gravy. A surprisingly practical use of Irken bone could also be in the compost bin, being rich in chitosan and other powerful garden fertilizers. The flesh can do well fried, or roasted to a crispy exterior. The oven rule is the same as chicken, low and slow, to prevent drying out. Don’t be afraid to experiment with the gravy idea or marinades. The flavor profile of the meat itself would be utterly unique from what most of us are used to, comparable to a nutty crayfish. Savory, a bit of a sweetness, and a mineral hint that pairs quite well with mushrooms or rice.

I can’t recommend serving this to any guests with shellfish allergies in good conscience. If they insist, do so in caution and with knowledge of the risk of cross reactivity.

And there you have …. certainly a thing I did write and queue up for y’all!

[evelegy]

It was announced today that a company called 'Colossal Biosciences' had secretly brought Dire Wolves back from the dead today....

Here are some totally normal and not at all horrifying and dystopic quotes from the press junket:

“We are an evolutionary force at this point. We are deciding what the future of these species will be.”

“There’s a risk of death. There’s a risk of side effects that are severe. There’s a lot of suffering involved in that. There are going to be miscarriages.”

"The staff was weighing the little pups, and one of the veterinary techs began singing a song from The Little Mermaid. When she reached a point at which she vocalized first up, then down, Romulus and Remus turned her way and began howling in response."

"Now the food is presented whole so the wolves can tear it apart as they would if they had hunted it down."

"Colossal’s three dire wolves spending their entire lives in a 2,000-acre preserve could be awfully lonely and claustrophobic—not at all the way wild dire wolves would live their lives."

"Lamm credits Elon Musk with stoking investors’ appetites to do “bigger things.” He adds, “I think people are, like, ‘Wow, we can do big, crazy things and there is a chance that we get a return on them.’ ”

"The company’s current valuation is $10.2 billion—on par with Moderna, the vaccine company. (One person who might miss out on getting rich from Colossal is Church, who, during the initial steps of founding the company, opted for a direct investment in his Harvard lab rather than equity. He has no regrets."

"Currently, once the company has an embryo ready to grow, researchers insert it in a host animal, but such surrogates are limited in number and expensive to work with, and come with many potential health complications. Birth can also be traumatic—elephants rarely survive a Cesarean section."

“'That field alone is a hundred-billion-dollar spinoff,' Lamm told me. An unaffiliated investment-advisory firm, Brownstone Research, has estimated that the 'addressable market' for an exo-dev system for humans would be worth at least twenty billion dollars."

"They made a shortlist of animals that Colossal would try to revive. The company would focus on what are known as 'charismatic megafauna' —animals cute or scary or striking enough that their absence has left a significant mark on human consciousness."

"What animal would such a person choose to revive first? I saw the answer in late February, when someone turned on his computer and showed me a photograph of two cute white dire-wolf pups sitting on an asymmetrical throne made of iron swords. At first glance, it looked like an A.I.-generated image, but I was told that these were actual living animals."

🌈💜 We live in a hell of our own making! 💜🌈