#haptic interface

[fogaminghub]

🎉 Exciting news, gamers! Civilization VII is set to drop on February 11, 2025, for PS5 and PS4! 🌟 With a new radial menu for ease of play, stunning graphics meticulously designed for your console, and immersive haptic feedback, you won't want to miss this epic strategy experience. Dive into the details on our blog! 

[customantibodymarket]

https://www.maximizemarketresearch.com/market-report/global-haptic-interface-market/54602/

[embracethepixels]

Tasting Pixels: A Brief View on Taste XR

In science fiction, it’s easy to sell someone the concept of a digital world far from our everyday reality. A world where anything is possible, with the only limitations being what the technology can provide. But there are aspects of it that make one question, ponder, and overthink. Take the scene in The Matrix of Smith and Cypher eating at a restaurant. Cypher makes a deal with the virtual devil…

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 1

I catch a glimpse of the pilot as she is wheeled towards the med bay. Her eyes have that telltale glaze of just having been wrenched out of herself.

I've never spoken a single word to her, but for a moment as the gurney slides by, those eyes briefly clear, ice blue pinning me to the spot. She raises an emaciated arm and her hand almost seems to beckon to me before something in the gurney clicks and whirs and she slips back into catatonia.

That brief moment of clarity, that piercing gaze, unsettles me. She recognized me.

It's neural bleed. I know it has to be. She doesn't know me, but Morrigan does.

Good god. In the pilot's present state of post combat haze, she probably doesn't even know where she ends and the machine begins.

Does neural bleed work both ways? Is it her head that I'm about to climb into?

My wrist strap buzzes. I have a job to do and I am late.

The pilot is a problem for the med team and the psychs.

The machine is my problem.

I hurry down the corridor, keeping my head down, avoiding the eyes of every passerby.

I don't like people.

I don't like how their eyes follow me. I don't like the whispered gossip that follows me.

One of the techs is waiting for me at the vestibule.

I don't know his name.

All clear, he says to me. Time to work your magic.

He says it without sarcasm. Others have been less kind.

Even so, he can't quite hide the leer as I strip down to the skinsuit. I don't have the physique of a pilot. My body hasn't been subjected to the stresses that ravage their bodies. Unlike them, I have fat and muscle and the skinsuit clings to every curve of my body.

I force a cursory smile and try to forget him as I walk barefoot to my destination.

The vestibule is small, windowless. It's impossible to assess the scale of the machine from here. The only part visible to me is roughly four square meters of pitted and scarred metal plating framing the access hatch and the pilot's cradle beyond.

B0-987T the stenciled lettering reads. And below, in flowing script, is “The Morrigan”.

She's a Javellin class, medium weapons fire support unit. She isn't meant to be on the front lines in a skirmish, but one-on-one, she can hold her own against a Wraith. Which is exactly what happened only a few hours ago.

I place a bare palm on the bulkhead. She thrums with some distant vibration. Her reactor is still online, still in the early stages of drawdown as she transitions to dock power.

“Hey beautiful,” I say to her.

I think of the pilot. I think of piercing blue eyes and I think of neural bleed.

I flinch my hand away.

The tech looks at me, asks if I'm alright. I'm fine, I tell him.

I climb through the hatch and into the cradle.

I feel like an interloper here. The cradle isn't calibrated for my body. Everything still smells like the pilot. Mingled with the smell of the machine is her sweat and her adrenaline and the particular scented soap that she prefers.

There is a faint whirring as her cameras track my movements from a dozen angles. The access ports open to receive me.

Against my better judgment, I imagine eagerness for this exchange.

This is immediately followed by an all too familiar sense of inadequacy. The engineers’ rig is not nearly as all encompassing as a pilots’. It's only the most basic neural interface. No haptics. No neurotransmitter feedback. No access to the suite of sensors studded throughout her hull.

I can't interface with her the way her pilot can.

My rig is a remnant from basic training. The pilot corps wanted me for my exceptional ratings in synchrony and neuro-elasticity, but after serval training exercises, they determined that I didn't have the temperament for the battlefield. I froze up too easily.

A neural rig is a massive investment and removing one will fuck a person up a hell of a lot more than installing one. The selection process is designed to weed out washouts before we even get to installation, but some of us still slip through the cracks. Most end up reassigned to logistics, operating loader mechs or piloting long haul supply frigates. But my aptitudes made me ideal for the engineering corps, so here I am.

Morrigan senses my mood and the cradle shifts slightly, aligning itself to my dimensions. Her eagerness to connect morphs into a sort of tender reassurance. It's a slippery slope, ascribing human emotions to these machines, but she does seem genuinely happy to see me.

I can never be part of what she and her pilot have, but I can be part of something in my own way.

The pilot knows about me, she would even without neural bleed. Does she envy the relationship I have with her mech? Does she envy that I can exist both together and apart with the machine?

Is she jealous of us?

Morrigan slips her jacks into my rig and my mind enters hers and I feel tension leave my body. Some dull ache that I wasn't even consciously aware of ebbs within me.

My senses dull and my visual cortex is fed a series of diagnostic logs and telemetry streams. The techs have access to the exact same data, but Morrigan highlights particular data points that she and the pilot flagged. I log them in the engineering report.

A wireframe schematic of the battlefield spreads out in my awareness. Green markers for our battlegroup. Red markers for the pack of Wraith interlopers.

I hear the ghost of music, strange and ambient, like whale song. The first time I heard it, I asked the techs about it. They had no idea what I was talking about. One even suggested I get an eval for some psych leave.

Later I realized Morrigan was singing to me. Or rather she was interpreting tightbeam comm links as something my brain could process. A human mind can't possibly interpret the full datastream, but with Morrigans's rendition, I can suss out the basic meanings. The battlegroup is a choir and Morrigan is playing me their song.

I caused quite a stir when I first made that connection and started flagging battle events the analysts had missed.

I survey the battlefield before me, reconstructed from feeds from TacCom and all the individual mechs.

Morrigan and I have done this enough times that she knows my preferred display layout, but she holds back, allowing me to pull off the virtual displays on my peripheral vision. There's an odd sort of intimacy to it, her letting me take charge like this.

God-knows how many tons of metal and ceramic and miles and miles of wire and optic fiber and see waits eagerly for me to start the playback sim. She wants to show off. She wants me to assess the actions of her and her pilot and tell them they did well.

Other engineers, few as we are, have mentioned similar experiences with their assigned machines.

“Alright,” I whisper so that only she can hear. “Show me the dance. Sing me the song.”

(Next)

[feyburner]

In ur version, does Batman or Superman even approve of Kon and Tim being together?

Lol sorry I’m sure you intended this as an art prompt but instead I used it as a silly little writing exercise.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« Bruce Wayne

That depends.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

On what?

« Bruce Wayne

On the subject matter, Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter.

Clark Kent (Daily Planet) »

Shoot. hang on

Superman (Justice League) »

Hi! Do you have a moment to chat?

« B

How many times a day does that happen

Just tell me. I can take it

Superman (Justice League) »

Not… that many…

« B

How many records are we scrubbing.

This week.

Superman (Justice League) »

Listen

You are the one who chose to make secret phones that are identical to normal phones

I don’t know what you were expecting

« B

It’s precautionary. In case they get lost.

They’re not identical. The Batcell’s haptic interface hardware is superior to the iPhone’s.

Slightly bigger too.

0.3mm.

Superman (Justice League) »

I’ll refrain from the obvious comment

But know I am thinking it

« B

So there’s a visual difference.

You have x-ray vision.

Superman (Justice League) »

If you think I’m going to x-ray my phone to figure out if the haptic interface software is 0.3mm larger than an iPhones every single time I need to send a text you are nuts

That’s you

« B

Learning memes are we.

Superman (Justice League) »

That’s not a meme. It’s a reaction image

I think

« B

Doesn’t a reaction image have to be sent in reaction to something? By definition?

Superman (Justice League) »

I dont know.

« B

I don’t either.

Superman (Justice League) »

Okay.

« B

You said you wanted to chat?

Superman (Justice League) »

Yes

And let me just preface this with:

I am about to tell you something and I need you to be, with all due respect, so normal about it

« B

Jesus fucking Christ, what happened?

Superman (Justice League) »

Nothing!! bad

Nothing bad

« B

Where are you? Can you call?

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok calm down, I’m fine, everything is fine

I can theoretically call but I think this is the kind of thing you’re going to want to sit with, on your own, for a second

Maybe 30 full seconds actually. Maybe sit for 30 full seconds before taking any action

« B

Kal El, I am catastrophizing at the speed of sound.

Superman (Justice League) »

Then I bet it will be such a huge relief to learn that all Im going to say is I have it on good authority that Superboy has something to tell you, and normally I would never breach his trust like this, but again: I cannot emphasize enough that I need you to be so, so normal. When he tells you. Which I have reason to believe he will, imminently

« B

Alfred has just informed me that Superboy is on the doorstep.

On the doorstep, Kal.

Of my home.

Superman (Justice League) »

Huh!

« B

He’s asked to speak with me in the parlor.

“In the parlor.” Quote.

I forgot we had one of those.

What is this.

Superman (Justice League) »

Well

I think there’s a chance Kon is about to be very, very brave, to your face

And—keep in mind I’m saying this as someone who thinks the world of you and has boundless trust and faith in your ability to be kind, selfless, and accepting—

If he doesnt leave that house with a smile on his face and a spring in his step I will ruin your life.

« B

Jesus.

I know you’re only threatening me because of that, thing I said. Last time.

And yet, it’s still effective.

Superman (Justice League) »

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah?

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

:)

« B

:)

I have to go meet your kid. “In the parlor”

Superman (Justice League) »

Be nice :)

« B

I will.

I know what he’s going to say anyway.

Superman (Justice League) »

Oh?

« B

He, and coincidentally also Robin, needs to work on his situational awareness.

With an emphasis on remembering to scan the environment for CCTV cameras.

Superman (Justice League) »

Ok to be fair there are a lot of cameras these days

« B

The incident in question took place on the rooftop of Wayne Tower.

Superman (Justice League) »

I see.

« B

Yeah.

Superman (Justice League) »

Yeah.

Unrelatedly are you coming over later?

« B

So you can ruin my life?

Yes.

Superman (Justice League) »

See you then :)

« B

Yes.

Wait.

It’s not weird now that…?

Superman (Justice League) »

Holidays may get awkward but I’m sure we will all cope.

« B

Okay.

:)

Superman (Justice League) »

Tell Kon I said hi!

« B

I will.

*

« B

Hey it’s Batman. I fucked up.

Superman (Justice League) »

What??

« B

Not with Kon’s thing. That went fine. But we kept talking and I mayh ave let something slip and I’d liek to apologize in advance bc I htink he’s on the way

Superman (Justice League) »

Kons at my window???

« B

Sorry.

Superman (Justice League) »

I will ruin your life!!!!!

« B

Nuts.

[ycoil]

"#me and who" you forreal pal? it is actually just us on my post Lol ignore all those other notes, they dont mean nothin, dont worry about the ocean of bodies pulsing and writhing in all of their futility, wistful thinking will merely lead you into your dreams, you gotta get the fuck out there and do something, you just hit my line and now we are linked, this is only about U and me, i love you, i am going to rename you and you will wear it happily because the rest of the world has lowkey failed you the whole way leading up to this point, i love you so much that no words could ever really broach the reality, you can only find out in the way my hands desire you, devouring your haptics, grasping, caressing, holding, im going to grip you so hard now that each one of my fingers is going to be painted red into your nerves, signals traipse their way up your spine and into your memory, i'll live forever there yknow, a pathway carved into your mind, youll hold that until you die, each recall further instantiating the neural pattern that leads you there, thats just the nature of life and connection, interface with me, ill play your cord like an instrument until your eyes roll right into the back of your head and you see the truth, comma, Lol

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Off the Hook - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Soul-bonds aren't all they're cracked up to be...

tw: body horror, mentions of convalescence

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

It wasn't something she could confide in anyone. Not to Singed, who was there every evening, with his icky potions and ickier smiles. To him, she was J17: a collection of warm, pliable parts with a fascinating gooey center. His eyes, always looking for a place to cut the incision and dig in.

And not even Silco's implacable hand, clamping his bony shoulder, could pry Singed's hungry stare off her.

She was a science-fair, waiting to happen.

It wasn't something she could confide in Viktor, either. Even though he was there nearly as often as Singed. Always looking at her too. But so sweet, so solicitous, and so, so scared because of what they'd done—what he'd done—that Jinx couldn't stand it.

They'd had so much fun working together—two gears in a perfectly synchronized machine. But after the Change, the synchronicity was soul-deep. Infusion, exfusion; blood, bone; bile, brains. He felt everything Jinx felt. Hurt everywhere Jinx hurt. He knew her insides better than anyone in Zaun.

And he couldn't stand it.

Not because of Jinx's big-eyed, freckle-faced youth—though Jinx knew it was a huge factor—but because Viktor couldn't stand himself. His shame was a sub rosa scent, and it soured even the smallest joys, like Jinx showing off her gnarly stitches or sticking little paper hats on her finger stubs or doing a wickedly accurate impression of Singed when he brandished the catheter—"Tsk, tsk, it only hurts a teeny bit."

Viktor had a thing for guilt, the way Jinx had a thing for guns. And though the Change had knitted them closer—fused them into the same spiritual superstructure—the truth was they had a better dynamic apart.

He had his machines and his monomania to take him away from it all. Jinx had her monstrosity, and the madness of knowing what it meant. 

And though he'd sit for hours and hold her mangled hand—even kiss it, if she pouted extra pitifully—he was too careful, like she was made of cracked porcelain. His guilt insulated their connection. And though he was attuned to her pain, it was a reminder of those parts of himself he'd rather leave behind.

The Change had altered him too. Made him a different man from the Viktor of yesteryear.

He sought the very perfection Jinx dreaded.

A final destination; a final breath.

A be-all and end-all.

It was something else Jinx couldn't mention. So she let him off the hook in simpler ways. Most evenings, she'd let him make himself useful.

It was a cinch. Viktor had a thing for atonement too. He'd bend over backwards to remedy what he'd ruined. He made so many small improvements to Jinx's room. A bedside monitor, a gooseneck reading lamp, an ergonomic pillow, a massaging mattress topper, a heating pad, a white-noise machine, an aromatherapy diffuser, an extra-foamy skin lotion, an extra-frothy bidet.

(That's a thingamajig that washes your nethers, for the yobs.)

He also designed a pair of cybernetic prosthetics for her missing fingers. They were aces: composed of ultra-durable alloy that was 99.9% waterproof and 99.99% airtight, with an extra layer of ultra-fine nanomesh for maximum flexibility. It even had an integrated shock absorber for extra comfort.

Each digit had an advanced microcontroller. At a touch, they processed pressure, temperature, and humidity, so she could adjust the grip strength of her prosthetics on the fly. And to top it off, he added a nifty laser targeting system similar to his own robotic arm. The laser was controlled through an intuitive haptic interface, allowing Jinx to literally shoot finger-guns at her enemies.

A one-of-a-kind masterpiece. The perfect booby-trap for the ultimate prankster.

He even painted them her favorite colors. Pink and blue, in candy-cane stripes.

The prosthetics looked amazing. They also felt... weird. Viktor had added an extra layer of neural networking to the digits. They never spazzed, or shortcircuited or stopped mid-task. But the fusion between metal and meat wasn't a straight line. It was a spiral staircase, going down, down, down.

It gave Jinx vertigo. It gave her the chills.

Perfect symbiosis wasn't the same as the real deal. Flesh that was warm. Nails that cracked. Skin that bled. Her brain liked those fingers. They were grubby, grimy, grabby. But they were part of the whole.

Part of Jinx.

She couldn't tell Viktor that, either.  For a Tinman, Viktor was unbearably sensitive.  And Jinx, in her new state of hyperempathy, sensed how the act of soothing her physical ills soothed Viktor's psychic ones.

So she'd lay in bed and languish in agony—"They hurt they hurt they HURT!"—and let him fidget and fixate and fuss. His own augmented joints moved faster than ever, zipping everywhere with unsettling smoothness.  He'd teach her how to flex the digits using his own Hex-claw: a show of stealthy shadow-puppetry and high-swooping panache. Whenever Jinx got it right, he'd crack his one and only smile: a reflexive curl of lips that never quite crossed into mirth, but was unrecognizable as anything else. He'd work out the rest of her too, if she asked: moving her, turning her, positioning her.  If she needed her legs massaged, her neck cricked, her spine realigned, he did so with alacrity. Ditto if she needed her nails trimmed, her skin exfoliated, her eyebrows tweezed.

He'd even brushed her teeth once, which had been weird but also weirdly... erotic? He was so methodical. He worked the brush in a repetitive, almost hypnotic rhythm: back and forth, up and down. Twenty-five even strokes on the upper and lower teeth, fifteen strokes on the inside, and another ten to get all that gunk between her gums.

The sensation made Jinx's lips tingle and her tongue buzz. Her giggles throughout the operation were pure helium for his ego. He had no idea that by letting him help her, she was helping him help himself.

He had a lot of pain, too. And a lifetime's practice at denying it.

But Viktor could not deny her.

After the Change, he'd left off his stilted silences and terse civility. He'd stopped being curt. Stopped talking to her, too, like she was an unhinged brat with too many explosives and too little common sense.

Slowly, inexorably, he let slip the natural reserve that kept the world out—and kept his real self locked in.

His best self.

He showed it to Jinx in slices. He had a lovely reading voice.  Jinx was a rotten reader—she had too many thoughts to follow any plot. But she could listen, if she concentrated really, really hard. Viktor was good at keeping her engaged. He had a soft, deep voice that was easy on the earholes.  Its rhythm reminded Jinx of the sanding wheel in Silco's steelmill: slow, steady, precise. The Drekkengate accent had a lovely, lulling quality that put her right to sleep the way Mommy's lullabies used to.

And he could be funny. He had a wit that would've been dry as desert sand, except it was so painfully sincere you'd think he'd bled himself out to harvest every ounce. He'd tell her stories from his past. About the Academy. About Heimerdinger. About Talis.

They weren't always happy stories.  But there was an honesty to them that Jinx—the trickster—couldn't help but covet as her own.

 He told her about Sky.

Jinx listened, though the Change made his pain her pain. Made his guilt her guilt. Made her want to crawl out of her skin and set the rest of herself on fire.

Because she'd given him her pain, too. Like a present wrapped in pink foil, the edges of her psyche peeled off for his perusal. And he, Vik the Voracious, had eaten it raw. Everything—her childhood hurts, Mylo, Claggor and Vi, the Cannery, Vander in the burning alley, and most agonizing of all: Silco—Viktor had swallowed, and never spat out.

He kept the hurt. He held it for her. Same way Jinx held his own. They were a perfect circle: a circle of suffering. The snake eating its tail.

And the only way they'd ever find completion was to cut the circle in two.

Jinx couldn’t say that, either. So, on the nights when the circle closed too tight, a feedback loop of ow-ow-OW, Jinx would fake cataleptic fatigue, and send Viktor packing. It hurt her. It hurt him too. But the short nights apart, away from her spooks and his shadows, kept the circle from strangling them both.

Gave them each space to breathe.

Anyway, Viktor was Zaun's premier Machinist. He always had somewhere to be. A higher plane to ascend. One foot in the workshop; the other, in eternity.

Jinx knew he was busy with the post-disaster salvage effort. He was rebuilding the collapsed mining rig in the Deadlands; rebuilding the jellified bodies of the victims.

Rebuilding Zaun, one screw at a time.

And he was rebuilding himself along the way: reworking every foible; excising every flaw. 

He'd finish it, too. Even if it killed him.

He was already a third gone: one arm, half a leg, a lung, three vertebrae's worth of spine. The augmentations were subtle; only someone as savvy as Jinx could spot the difference. But every replacement cost a pound of flesh.  His body wasn't metamorphosing. It was nosediving, and Viktor had his hands all over the mothership's controls. Pulling levers. Pushing buttons. Steering the ship towards its final destination.

Not perfection.

Death.

Whereas Jinx was everywhere and nowhere at once.  Trapped, as only perfection can trap.

[lyssophobiaa]

Quick sketch for Piers’ bionic arm.

Design Features

•Aesthetics: Streamlined, ergonomic design with a minimalist look, often featuring a matte or metallic finish.

•Materials: Lightweight composites like carbon fiber and titanium, providing durability without sacrificing mobility.

•Color Options: Customizable colors or finishes, including options for skin-like textures or futuristic metallics.

Technology

•Actuation: Advanced motors and actuators that enable precise, fluid movement mimicking natural limb motion.

•Sensors: Integrated sensors (e.g., myoelectric sensors) to detect muscle signals for intuitive control and movement.

•Feedback Systems: Haptic feedback mechanisms to provide users with sensory information about grip strength and object texture.

Safety and Durability

•Water and Dust Resistance: High IP ratings to protect against environmental factors.

•Emergency Features: Manual override systems or fail-safes in case of technology malfunction.

Advanced Technological Interface

•Integrated Biosensors: Built-in biosensors that can analyze blood or interstitial fluid samples to measure viral load in real time.

•Data Analytics: Utilizes algorithms to process biosensor data, providing insights on viral dynamics and trends.

•Alerts and Notifications: Real-time alerts sent to the user or healthcare provider when viral load exceeds predetermined thresholds.

•Communication System: Integrated with a communicator on the wrist, the arm serves as a reliable device for maintaining contact with his team. This system includes encrypted channels for secure communication during high-stakes operations.

•Objective Management Display: The arm features a holographic display that provides a detailed version of the communicator’s data, allowing Piers to view mission objectives and tactical data in real-time. This feature minimizes the need for external devices and keeps critical information accessible.

Augmented Reality (AR) Compatibility

•Enhanced Visualization: The arm’s display projects augmented reality overlays, allowing Piers to see additional information, such as enemy positions, weapon stats, or tactical directions, directly in his line of sight.

•Environmental Scanning: The arm can analyze the surroundings for potential threats, detect biological or chemical hazards, and provide alerts for safer navigation through hostile environments.

Electricity Conduction and Control

•Energy Conduit Design: The bionic arm acts as a conductor for the constant electrical energy generated by Piers’ mutation. It includes specialized channels and circuits designed to manage this energy flow, allowing Piers to use his mutation’s electrical pulse without it spiraling out of control.

•Dielectric Structures: The arm’s design incorporates materials that mimic the dielectric properties of his mutated tissue, particularly in the finger joints and bones. These dielectric components help regulate and contain the high voltage his body produces, diffusing excess energy safely throughout the arm.

•Controlled Release Mechanism: To avoid overload, the arm features a controlled release system that allows Piers to release pulses of energy strategically, whether in combat or to alleviate the internal buildup. This system prevents the arm from overheating or sustaining damage from prolonged electrical activity.

Containment and Compression of the Mutation

•Compression Framework: The prosthetic was specially designed by UMBRELLA engineers to act as a containment “net” around his mutation. It includes a flexible, reinforced framework that compresses the mutated tissue, keeping it in check and preventing further growth or erratic shifts in form.

•Adaptive Pressure System: As the mutation strains against the arm, sensors detect any changes in size or energy output, triggering adaptive responses. The arm tightens or loosens as necessary to hold the mutation back, functioning almost like a high-tech brace that adjusts in real-time to maintain Piers’ arm in a stable form.

•Automatic Safety Lock: In the event of a significant spike in mutation activity or electrical output, the arm engages an emergency lock to keep the mutation from expanding. This feature is a safeguard against sudden bursts of energy that could cause the arm to revert to its mutated state.

Dependency and Risks of Removal

•Rapid Mutation Onset: Without the prosthetic in place, Piers’ arm begins to mutate almost immediately, returning to its original, unstable form. The electrical pulse that his body generates becomes unrestrained, emitting a continuous, breath-like rhythm that is both painful and dangerous, with energy leaking through protruding bones and exposed tissue.

•Uncontrollable Pulse: When uncontained, the electrical pulse from his mutation surges in intensity, lacking any natural “closure” or stopping point. This pulse causes rapid fluctuations in his vital signs and risks systemic overload, leading to loss of control over his mutation and putting him at severe physical risk.

Miscellaneous Details

•The arm has a unique serial code engraved on an inner plate, serving as an identifier for UMBRELLA technicians. This code also links to Piers’ personal health records, mutation data, and arm specifications for quick access during maintenance or in emergencies.

•Due to the intense electrical pulses generated by his mutation, the arm is equipped with an internal cooling system. Micro-fans and heat-dissipating channels prevent overheating during extended use, keeping the arm at a safe, comfortable temperature. If the arm overheats, an internal alarm alerts Piers to prevent any potential damage.

•The outer layer is treated with a UV-resistant coating to protect it from environmental damage and exposure. This ensures that prolonged exposure to sunlight or harsh conditions doesn’t wear down the arm’s exterior, making it more durable in diverse climates and situations.

•Designed for various operational environments, the arm is fully waterproof and corrosion-resistant. It functions normally underwater, which is crucial for aquatic missions or when exposed to rain, mud, or corrosive substances.

•The holographic display can be customized to show additional details, such as weather, GPS navigation, or tactical maps. Piers can also set personal preferences, like color schemes or alert tones, for a more intuitive user experience. This flexibility lets him prioritize the information he finds most critical during missions.

•The communicator has an onboard language translator, enabling Piers to communicate with individuals across different languages. The arm’s display shows translated text, and a subtle earpiece can even relay audio translations, making it easier for him to gather intel and negotiate in multilingual environments.

[normaltothemax]

@odditymuse you know who this is for

Jace hadn’t actually been paying all that much attention to his surroundings. Perhaps that was the cause of his eventual downfall. The Stark Expo was just so loud, though. Not only to his ears, but to his mind. So much technology in one space, and not just the simple sort, like a bunch of smartphones—not that smartphones could necessarily be classified as simple technology, but when one was surrounded by them all day, every day, they sort of lost their luster—but the complex sort that Jace had to really listen to in order to understand.

After about an hour of wandering, he noticed someone at one of the booths having difficulty with theirs. A hard-light hologram interface; fully tactile holograms with gesture-control and haptic feedback. At least, that was what the poor woman was trying to demonstrate. However, the gestural database seemed to be corrupted. No matter how she tried, the holograms simply wouldn’t do what she wanted them to, either misinterpreting her gesture commands or completely reinterpreting them.

Jace had offered up a suggestion after less than a minute of looking at the device:

“Have you tried realigning the inertial-motion sensor array that tracks hand movement vectors? Your gesture database might not be the actual problem.” That was what she was currently looking at, and it wasn’t. “Even a small drift on, say, the Z-axis,” the axis with the actual misalignment issue, “would feed bad data into the system. Which would, in turn, make the gesture AI try to compensate, learning garbage in the process.”

He’d received a hell of a dirty look for his attempted assistance, and frankly, if she didn’t want to accept his help, that was fine—Jace was used to people ignoring him, even when he was, supposedly, the expert on the matter. But then the woman’s eyes went big, locked onto something behind him, and a single word uttered in a man’s voice had Jace spinning around and freezing, like a deer in headlights.

“Fascinating.”

Oh god. Oh no. That was Tony Stark. The Tony Stark. The one person Jace did not want to meet and hadn’t expected to even be milling around here, if he’d bothered to come at all.

“…Um.” Well done, Jace. Surely that will help your cause.

[swaps55]

Starting my first reread of Opus bc I can't stop thinking about those dorks. Your world feels so fleshed out and real. Honestly, I forget that the Yang Gang and Fugue aren't canon LOL. I fully believed that the Can for N1 was mentioned in a codex somewhere until my sister gave me a strange look when we were discussing N7 training. Anyways, I was wondering if you could bless us with any headcanons (especially me1 and me3 headcanons🙏) that have been cut/might not be mentioned in Opus!!

The Can was largely the Brain Child of Real Life Romance Option, and you just made his day!

Here's what's really fun about the Can. It is technically not canon. But it is canon compliant if you are willing to squint. If you have ever played ME3's multiplayer, you may have played on the Firebase Rio map, which was introduced with the Earth DLC, in which you fight on a ship off the coast of Rio. Now, if you look over the side of the ship at extract on that map, you'll see this (this shot of it comes from the wiki):

It's a giant hole in the ocean.

Why is there a giant hole in the ocean off the coast of Rio? Well, it doesn't say anywhere that it ISN'T the Can, right???

ANYWAY.

A ME1 area headcanon!

This one is related to my favorite headcanon of all time, which my dear late friend Sara let me borrow for Opus: the construction of the Normandy nearly ended in disaster because turians use a base-6 mathematical system while humans use base-10. My extension of this headcanon is that the compromise between the two species was to use base-12 as a compromise. This would be easy for turians, and humans are also well-suited to base 12 (just look at our own calendar/time system). The base-12 idea came after I went down a rabbit hole learning about the Sumerians, who used a base-60 number system!

It's a small headcanon, but I think it's neat.

I have some killer headcanons heading your way about Biotic Charge, but those are incoming within a few chapters so I won't say much here. But it's REALLY COOL, and I am REALLY EXCITED.

ME3-era headcanons, let me see what I got.

Something I am dead set on that I don't know if I'll really be able to work into the ME3 story or if it will have to come later is how I want to handle Kaidan and his biotic students. Opus hasn't really set him up to go into teaching or training, but I did give myself an important opening. My version of the N program includes a specialization course during N4. The list includes:

Advanced weapons training

Advanced engineering training

Advanced medical training

Advanced infiltration training

(This is my nod to the Mass Effect class system without having to use the game mechanic in fic.)

What is notably missing from this list is a biotic training program, because biotics are still new and the Alliance still isn't sure how to integrate them. So my thought is that Kaidan develops this program. He works with the Alliance to design procedures and tactics around biotics, creates the specialization training course, and helps select the first round of instructors. I don't think there will actually be time for this to happen between ME2 and ME3, though maybe he'll be discussing taking it on. Likely it would happen after the war.

Another world building headcanon that I *think* I am going to use in ME3 involves Javik. I'm still not sure exactly how I am going to use him narratively, but something I insinuated through Liara's experiences during her return to Ilos - which is backed up by Shepard's canonical experiences with the cipher and the beacon as well as Javik himself - is that prothean technology is strongly reliant on touch telepathy, which is why this cycle has had such a hard time making heads or tails of prothean technology they actually find. It's not designed to have keypads and haptic/physical interfaces, making it extremely inaccessible to the species of this cycle.

Which means someone who can actually interface with it would be extremely valuable from an intelligence standpoint. Javik would be too powerful of an asset to waste on the battlefield, which I think would be a tremendous source of frustration for him. He was born to fight his enemy, not translate a technical manual. But translating the technical manual is where he can make a bigger difference.

What's really going to be fun about ME3 is re-wiring the plot to keep all the main story beats from the game without ever having to use the words "crucible" or "catalyst." I know the broad strokes of how I'm going to do it, and the headcanons that come from that are going to be a lot of fun.

At least present!me thinks so. Future!me might not have as good a time with it. XD

[lilmissnatcat24]

i promise i'll start posting electric sheep again soon please enjoy this morsel in the meantime

Dr. Liara T’Soni-- hardly a doctor anymore, for what it was worth-- paced back and forth in her office. Her office, which was far nicer than she should have been able to afford in the center of Nos Astra. Reception office just off to the wings, sparkling tile floor, exotic plants that she didn’t know how to take care of or even the names. She should have been in a shoebox. Shepard didn’t bring it up. Neither did Liara. 

A turian woman’s head rotated on Liara’s haptic interface, revolving in static like gigabytes in the microwave. A single white line tattooed down her crest to her nose and then her lips, eyes startlingly green, soft rounded mandibles. Records showed that she died back in 2163. The headshot was taken just over a month ago. Even with all of the official resources in the world, Liara should not have been able to find her in under five minutes, much like she shouldn’t have been able to afford her cushy office in the heart of Nos Astra with all of its exotic plants. Again, she did not deem it important enough to bring it up. 

“Zena Turstian,” Liara said. Her voice was always so soft, even when it was hard, like the tinkering of a windchime against concrete. “Her file’s been classified in HSIP for the better part of the past twenty years.” 

“And HSIP is��?” Shepard said, the mug of tea in her hand scalding her palm. She didn’t bother to put in on the authentic wood coaster Liara owned-- made from mashak wood, a tree only found on the dregs that barely still exist on Rakhana. A gift, Liara had said, but not from whom. 

“Hierarchical Sensitive Informant Protection,” Liara recited. “Witness protection, Palaven style. Ms. Turstian was apparently the victim of a shot to the head via Hegemonist terrorists. Body cremated, ashes spread in space. A lovely ceremony by all accounts. And apparently, she’s a paralegal at a property rights law firm barely on the other side of town.” 

“But she’s dead.” 

“Not very convincingly.”

[floridianfireflyfaith]

The Curious Case of Rozzum Unit 7134

or "A Potential Prologue to The Wild Robot 2 Based on the Second Book"! Put short, the second book starts in a setting that's a bit different from the last scene of the movie. This is my way of linking the two!

No spoilers, but some out of context things are in there that readers of the books will definitely recognize.

Script under the cut!!

*A digital interface takes up the entire screen, haptics and indiscernible code in the corners as a report is pulled up. An AI voice narrates.*

Universal Dynamics restricted file access clearance approved. Case File 62189: the curious case of Rozzum Unit 7134. 7134 was the sole surviving unit of a container ship run aground in a typhoon. Nearly a year afterwards, we received – and quickly lost – its transmitter signal from a remote northern island. Our first recovery convoy failed, and reports show that the ship and every robot aboard was destroyed by unknown means. We prepared to resort to more extreme methods until 7134 itself reactivated its signal.

*Several drone snapshots show the RECOs surrounding Roz at gunpoint on the island and escorting her onto the ship. Photos not unlike mugshots show off all the abnormalities we saw her body earn, such as her wooden leg, the moss growing along her limbs, and the broad scratches across her torso.*

The Rozzum unit returned to us in peace but continues to be an enigma to us. An in-depth diagnostic before reconditioning revealed to us that the memory bank draw had been performed mere moments before the convoy was destroyed, and the unit reported no such memories after that point. What happened on that island will seemingly never be known to us.

*There’s hardly a moment that Roz isn’t being observed by a sentry drone. She is seen in the midst of several diagnostic, verbal, and kinesthetic tests - never seeming to bat an eye. She is a capable actress and, thanks to Fink, a capable liar. As she was always meant to do, she is clearly adapting to survive even here. Footage then shows her old parts being discarded and shiny, clean new parts replacing them.*

Rozzum 7134 aced the Compliance and Sensory tests without issue and was reconditioned as an agricultural class unit. We monitored her closely during and after this transition time. No incidents or strange behaviors were observed until this past week. November 17th at 0015 hours, 7134 displayed some…concerning behaviors.

*Security drone footage shows a sequence of zoomed-in photos of Brightbill interacting vaguely with Roz (are they embracing each other??), Roz noticing the drone, and Roz aiding in the goose’s escape from the dome. The final video shows Roz holding up her hands in baffled surrender before the surrounding RECOs. She is later seen in an interrogation room, and then on a maintenance stand like the one on which Vontra gave her her first memory wipe.*

Upon interrogation, the unit claimed she was simply completing a task. Due to a record of compliant behavior, this appears to be some result of a glitch in its system. After another hard reset, 7134 has been returned to rotation. We will be keeping an eye from afar on 7134, but rest assured it has been reassigned where it will not be any further trouble.

*After video confirmation of another memory wipe, more drone snapshots recall back to Roz being caught with Brightbill. One photo of her is zoomed in and refined with AI, and…though it could be a AI graphics issue…the way she’s looking back over her shoulder makes her look not to differently from an escaped convict.*

If any further incidents are reported, Dr. Molovo must be notified and subject must be recaptured, deactivated, and destroyed.

No exceptions.

File access terminated.

[customantibodymarket]

https://www.maximizemarketresearch.com/market-report/global-haptic-interface-market/54602/

[absylphe]

Sefoni's stretching her arms over her head as if she's just gotten out of a great yoga session, splattered with the same viscera as you are. Everything is dead or unconscious now. All that's left to hear is wind, your heartbeat, Sefoni's humming, and the idling engines of a transport shuttle.

Something else -- a stuttering, anxious pulse. Far too quick to be Sol.

One more left.

You take slow, intentional steps up the catwalk and lazily turn your pupils up toward the lone pilot left over, training a rifle on you with unsteady hands. An ambush. He must have thought himself quite clever, hiding for this long while everyone died around him. You blink intently, head already starting to throb as you make eye contact.

You stare at each other. It burns discomfort through you like newspaper catching alight, but you hold his gaze for as long as it takes.

His hands shake. His finger tenses on the trigger aimed right between your horns, but he can't quite commit. Confusion, resistance, panic -- all flit across his face. You're too tired to panic. Too angry to loosen your iron grip on his autonomy.

"You have been working too hard," you murmur, watching his spine snap to attention, straight as a pole at the sound of your voice. "Go ahead, take a nap."

Clawed fingers flex, resist, shake with the effort, even as the wrists and arms move swift and smooth, mechanically. A roundabout motion, as if practiced.

With a full-bodied brutality you doubt you could muster up in your current post-strife comedown, the pilot crashes the butt of his rifle into the side of his own head, sending him hurtling horn-first into the board -- horns smash into the console, sparks shooting everywhere. Something oozes from the controls. Not blood, though, you'd recognize blood.

Sickkk.

Fingers to his carotid, as if you can't hear his pulse from here. He's unconscious.

You don't let yourself feel bad. He's only about thirty meters from a hospital, after all.

"Is there anything fun left to do in here?" Sefoni bounces up from behind you smelling like a rainbow drinker buffet, picking flecks of gore out of her hair and wiping her face with the remains of a sheer veil. "I could keep going."

"No, I'm afraid that was the last one. Come along." You pretend not to notice the little pout, the sulking as she follows behind you. "If you had gotten here earlier, there would have been more left for you."

Sefoni gives a maniacal little grin, all teeth and gleaming eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry for trying not to draw attention by acting suspiciously at the party."

"You should be," you accuse, a fondness in your voice even as you rub a thumb over your bruised knuckles. "I am glad you showed up, though."

The pod is enormous, filled with something that looks like sopor, though you can't smell it. Even from this close, it's hard to hear Sol's pusher. The material is dense.

The console it's attached to just reads like... gibberish. Tapping the haptic interface with your knuckle pulls up requirements for administrator credentials, mandatory blood sample, ocular scan, password, override key. Hal pipes up in the corner of your glasses to ask for just a second, but you're tired. And you're sick of this place.

Palms pressed to the surface of the pod, you close your eyes and let the space between you flood into your perception, hyperawareness singing across every nerve in your body. The molecules that make up Sol, the molecules that make up everything else. The exact delineation between stasis goo and pod exterior -- the silhouette of your friend's shape begins to take form. You pick out every strand of hair, every tiny membrane on her tail, each lash and itty bitty bump and pore. Her missing horns, her crooked fangs.

The pod is not too terribly dissimilar to an avocado, if you think about it.

Once you're satisfied you won't nick her accidentally, you press lightly against the pod with your palms. There's a clatter behind you as a razor-thin, perfect ring of metal you have teleported falls and clatters to the floor, dancing in a circle as it flattens to the ground. As if caught by surprise, the equal remaining halves of the pod split apart and fall to the floor with a clatter.

The viscosity of the slime gives you just enough time to reach forward and pick Sol out of it before she can fall to the floor, pulling her close to your chest, breathing weakly and covered in ooze. You take a step back, cognizant of your aching back, Sefoni behind you. You lean a shoulder against her, make Her part of You. The shape of you both -- the shape of all three of you, a 3D object rendered in space. Lightly, she places a hand on your back.

Reinforcements in 15 seconds. Escape plan?

"Take a deep breath," you instruct Sefoni -- it's the only warning you give before you're all standing in your transportalizer room, dripping slime and viscera all over the floor.

[deardearestbrandsnews2025]

For a digital-only, cloud-based PlayStation 7, here’s an updated schematic focusing on next-gen cloud gaming, AI-driven performance, and minimalistic hardware:

1. Hardware Architecture (Cloud-Optimized, Minimalist Design)

Processing Power:

Cloud-Based AI Compute Servers with Custom Sony Neural Processing Units (NPUs)

Local Ultra-Low Latency Streaming Box (PS7 Cloud Hub) with AI-Assisted Lag Reduction

Storage:

No Internal Game Storage (Everything Runs via PlayStation ZeroCloud)

4TB Cloud-Synced SSD for System & Personal Data

Connectivity:

WiFi 7 & 6G Mobile Support for High-Speed Streaming

Quantum Encrypted Bluetooth 6.0 for Peripherals

Direct-to-Server Ethernet Optimization (AI-Managed Ping Reduction)

Form Factor:

Minimalist Digital Console Hub (Size of a Small Router)

No Disc Drive – Fully Digital & Cloud-Dependent

2. UI/UX Design (AI-Powered Cloud Interface)

NexusOS 1.0 (Cloud-Based AI UI): Personalized Dashboard Adapting to Player Preferences

ZeroNexus AI Assistant:

Predictive Game Recommendations

Smart Latency Optimization for Cloud Gaming

In-Game AI Strategy Coach

Instant Play Anywhere:

Seamless Cloud Save Syncing Across Devices

Playable on Console, PC, Tablet, or NexusPad Companion Device

Holographic UI Options (for AR Integration with Future PlayStation VR)

3. Concept Art & Industrial Design (Minimalist, Streaming-Focused)

Compact, Vertical-Standing Console (PS7 Cloud Hub)

Sleek, Heatless Design (No Heavy Internal Processing)

DualSense 2X Controller:

Cloud-Connected Haptics (Real-Time Adaptive Feedback)

AI-Touchscreen Interface for Quick Actions & Cloud Navigation

Self-Charging Dock (Wireless Power Transfer)

4. Software & Ecosystem (Full Cloud Gaming Integration)

PlayStation ZeroCloud (Sony’s Ultimate Cloud Gaming Service)

No Downloads, No Installs – Instant Play on Any Device

AI-Based 8K Upscaling & Adaptive Frame Rate

Cloud-Powered VR & AR Experiences

Cross-Platform Compatibility: PlayStation 7 Games Playable on PC, TV, & Mobile

Subscription-Based Ownership (Game Library Access Model with NFT Licensing for Exclusive Titles)

Eco-Friendly AI Resource Scaling: Low Power Consumption for Cloud Streaming

This design ensures ultra-fast, high-quality, cloud-first gaming while eliminating hardware limitations. Let me know if you want refinements or additional features!

[kingme1002]

Human augmentation:

refers to the use of technology to enhance physical, cognitive, or sensory abilities beyond natural human limits. Augmentation can be temporary or permanent and can range from simple tools to advanced cybernetic implants. Here are some key ways a person can be augmented:

### **1. Physical Augmentation**

- **Prosthetics & Exoskeletons**: Advanced prosthetic limbs (bionic arms/legs) and powered exoskeletons can restore or enhance mobility and strength.

- **Muscle & Bone Enhancements**: Synthetic tendons, reinforced bones, or muscle stimulators can improve physical performance.

- **Wearable Tech**: Smart clothing, haptic feedback suits, and strength-assist devices can enhance endurance and dexterity.

### **2. Sensory Augmentation**

- **Enhanced Vision**: Bionic eyes (retinal implants), night-vision contact lenses, or AR/VR headsets can extend visual capabilities.

- **Enhanced Hearing**: Cochlear implants or ultrasonic hearing devices can improve or restore hearing.

- **Tactile & Haptic Feedback**: Sensors that provide enhanced touch or vibration feedback for better interaction with machines or virtual environments.

- **Olfactory & Taste Augmentation**: Experimental tech could enhance or modify smell/taste perception.

### **3. Cognitive Augmentation**

- **Brain-Computer Interfaces (BCIs)**: Neural implants (e.g., Neuralink, neuroprosthetics) can improve memory, learning speed, or direct brain-to-machine communication.

- **Nootropics & Smart Drugs**: Chemical enhancements that boost focus, memory, or mental processing.

- **AI Assistants**: Wearable or implantable AI that aids decision-making or information retrieval.

### **4. Genetic & Biological Augmentation**

- **Gene Editing (CRISPR)**: Modifying DNA to enhance physical traits, disease resistance, or longevity.

- **Synthetic Biology**: Engineered tissues, organs, or blood substitutes for improved performance.

- **Biohacking**: DIY biology experiments, such as implanting magnets in fingers for sensing electromagnetic fields.

### **5. Cybernetic & Digital Augmentation**

- **Embedded Chips (RFID, NFC)**: Subdermal implants for digital identity, keyless access, or data storage.

- **Digital Twins & Cloud Integration**: Real-time health monitoring via embedded sensors linked to cloud AI.

- **Neural Lace**: A mesh-like brain implant for seamless human-AI interaction (still experimental).

### **6. Performance-Enhancing Substances**

- **Stem Cell Therapies**: For faster healing and regeneration.

- **Synthetic Hormones**: To boost strength, endurance, or recovery.

- **Nanotechnology**: Microscopic machines for repairing cells or enhancing biological functions.

### **Ethical & Social Considerations**

- **Privacy & Security**: Risks of hacking or surveillance with embedded tech.

- **Inequality**: Augmentation could widen gaps between enhanced and non-enhanced individuals.

- **Identity & Humanity**: Philosophical debates on what it means to be "human" after augmentation.

### **Current & Future Trends**

- **Military & Defense**: DARPA and other agencies are working on super-soldier programs.

- **Medical Rehabilitation**: Restoring lost functions for disabled individuals.

- **Transhumanism**: A movement advocating for human enhancement to transcend biological limits.

Would you like details on a specific type of augmentation?