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It's the human reaction. What I wish I could convey is the - the exhilaration. That's the biggest thing. I'm not a spiritual man, but I've always believed there's something transcendent about spaceflight. Something pure. We go out there because we can. Because it's who we are. Now we go because we have to.

Because the unknown came to us. In fourteen months we'll be face to face with it, and by the time we arrive, it should be active again - just like it was active on Jupiter, and Mercury, and Venus. I wonder what happens if it doesn't stop at Mars. I wonder if it'll leave us there in the sand, and come to Earth, and do here what it's done everywhere else. I hate that we're carrying weapons. I understand the necessity. But I hold to my belief: there's something beautiful out there.

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It's up to us to reach it. Everybody asks about the words. The truth is I'm not much of a poet. Ares One didn't leave us with bandwidth for anything except blunt competence. We came in perilously hot, trying to select a landing site through the chaos of thickening atmosphere and turbulence that bloomed off the target. A twenty minute round-trip lightspeed delay to Earth meant we could only count on ourselves.

When the number three engine went diagnostic during the second course correction, I thought we might go catastrophic. But Qiao brought us in. Mihaylova brought us in. I just flew the ship. The Ares One excursion vehicle was built for thin winds and icy dust. We came down into a storm: the breath of God, a ripple of change rolling down off the artifact.

We aborted on three sites and finally I took us into powered hover and brought us down on reflexes and instinct. Then we ran the checklists, suited up, and left the vehicle. There was a script, and it's true, I botched it. I got my boots down and I made the most famous gaffe in human history. Said the first thing that came to mind: a warning to the others. I just thought it'd be useful to know. The hike from Ares One. You've watched it. Everything was recorded. I think you can get it in full immersion, now, and fly around like a hummingbird.

I'll add what I can. The route was planned. We all went together - the CEV and Ares One itself had enough automation to go home alone in the event of crew loss. Whatever we'd find at the artifact, it needed the human element. We carried rifles. They made us heavier and slower and probably less safe. I think the argument about the rifles can be left for another time.

What's important is - It turned out well. Look at me. Look at us! You're talking to a ninety-year-old man. A ninety-year-old who's never been sharper. I'm miles ahead of every cognitive benchmark. What's happened to me is good. What's happened to all of us is good. When we crested that rise and made visual contact with the artifact I don't think any one of us dared dream that it would end this well.

We went to Mars at the cutting edge of human civilization. And it wasn't our weapons that won the day. It was our ship. Our training. Our camaraderie. Our belief that if we just reached out to the universe, not to grasp for profit or security but with an open hand, we would be elevated. We were right. That makes me so happy. To this day. Three human beings stood on a high ridge and saw the shape of the future. Saw rain strike a millennia-old desert. Felt the air sweeten with oxygen and warm water and the beginnings of life.

I am sometimes asked if I felt something die. The end of the era of human self-sufficiency. I don't know how to answer that question. I do know that I was changed. Nobody could experience that kind of wonder and remain unchanged.

Lore:Livros por Assunto - UESPWiki

The decades since have proven that to me. I knew I'd never fly another mission like that. I recognized the need for a new love. That's why I threw my fresh cognitive skills into understanding the Traveler. How can one entity so quickly and utterly remake an entire world? Fifty years later, I'm conversant in high mathematics, particularly topological thoughts and the slippery irreality of Light.

I'm involved in a project to study the Traveler's terraforming actions right now. But I still enjoy the interviews. I like going back to that mission. It makes me unspeakably happy to see how well it all turned out. And it makes me happy to remember I was there. And standing with strangers. Hope churning beneath my skin, assuring me there was a place besides this place. A realm that would nurture us, not kill us. The Earth was ruin. Chaos and madness and death.

We were standing on the Earth. Where I am now. But why am I still here? It was my turn to leave. I remember. I was waiting with others like me, and the ships would soon take us away. But to where? Where was this hope? I must have known. There had to be a name, coordinates. Except all of that is forgotten.

Invitation of the Nine – Week 1: “The World”

Other than my absolute conviction in salvation, nothing remains. The Traveler. I remember that now. Which was Something has stolen my words, the imagery. But I still remember what it promised us The universe. Creation held in our hands. But I was here for a reason. And what would I surrender, just for the faint chance to remember what that good reason was. It is said that the Awoken were born in the Collapse, descended from those who tried to flee its wrath.

Something happened to them out on the edge of the deep black, and they were forever changed. Today many Awoken live in the distant Reef, aloof and mysterious. But others returned to Earth, where their descendants now fight for the City. Earthborn Awoken who venture out to the Reef, hoping to learn its secrets, find no special welcome from the reclusive Queen. Eleven hundred meter length. Active gravity generation. Residual heat. Fast neutron scatter. Low-light foliage grown from terrestrial stocks, mirrors focusing starlight into growth chambers Surface heavily wooded until recently, unknown event triggering firestorm No distress calls noted.

No evidence of crew or passengers on exterior. Interior scans inconclusive. Cleared to attempt approach. I was nothingness. If I existed before, I existed as possibility, as potential, stretched thin across the aether. And maybe there was a body that looked like my body, complete with a soul that could be confused for someone rather like me. What I am now was not yet real. And then I was born, and the universe was free to begin. Others were present at my birth. A great ceremony had just begun. Because newborns are selfish beasts, I assumed I was the object of attention.

I didn't notice the singing until the singers fell silent. And then She appeared. She was above me. Ethereal and handsome and elegant. I assumed my face was like her face and that odd idea gave me strength enough to smile. It meant nothing but she understood it as a question. I stopped pretending to think. How I remained on my feet was a mystery, because the terror was bearing down on me, like a mountain about to crush my soul. The world around us had shattered, and it seemed vanishingly unlikely that we would outlive this one awful day.

The source was inside my skin. I was utterly terrified of my own awful nature.


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And which part scared me? Inside me was an essence woven from beyond. Was I Awoken before this? She was still in my head. I could hear her song growing fainter. Not yet. A new crippling terror was taking over.

Lore:Livros por Assunto

I was focused entirely on my fear. But I had to make an effort. And it occurred to me then that nothing in the universe was more dangerous than human hubris. I still had this Other within? But the human side was what mattered: Weak and foolhardy, sure to fail in the next moment. Then someone spoke.

Maybe it was me. I was trying to focus, and a new thought took me: My soul lay between those two entities. The friction. Built for a long-forgotten struggle, Exos are self-aware war machines so advanced that nothing short of a Ghost can understand their inner functions. They remain ciphers, even to themselves: their origins and purpose lost to time. Whoever built the Exos fashioned them in humanity's image, gifting them with diversity of mind and body. Many of the City's Exo citizens live and work alongside their organic brethren. But others fight again, re-forged in the Light of the Traveler to serve as Guardians.

It doesn't matter if the system thinks with flesh or superconductor or topological braids in doped metallic hydrogen, as long as the logic is the same. And our logic is the same. Yours and mine. If I am a machine then so are you. If you are not a machine then neither am I. Exo minds are human. It is incontrovertible. You understand? I'm going to take that slack-jawed stare as understanding. Now here's the real question.


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Why are Exo minds human? What's the design imperative? Why does a war machine - yes, absolutely, I am a war machine, built by human hands; and you are a survival machine built by the engine of evolution. Don't interrupt me. Why does a war machine have emotions? Why should a war machine have awareness? These are not useful traits on the battlefield. Don't flatter yourself. They are not useful. So why should the Exo mind mimic the human architecture so closely? You know what I smell on you? I smell the stink of anthropocentrism. I think you think that there's only one way to think.

That's why the Exo mind is so human, you presume. Because all higher thought converges. My friend, you should meet the Vex. There is nothing human in them. This is what I believe happened, back in the time before any Exo can remember. It explains everything. I think someone wanted to live forever. Thanks for your interest. I'm recording this for posterity. Warlock thanatonauts die and come back with insight.

I'm going to attempt the same process to get at buried memories. Specifically, I'm going to fire a charged particle beam into my head and see what comes out. We Exos have been around a very long time. I want to know what's in there. My Ghost is standing by to repair me. Everyone is on fire. There's a ship above us but it's coming apart just like a flower, alloy and fusion flash, pierced through and through - The voice says Atmospheric interface.

Trajectory nominal. Rabid two three you are outside the window. I think I am the voice I can see the whole earth below me and the sky we are falling out of is black without stars. Ghost, shoot me again. This is elsewhere and elsewhen. There is a mighty aurora and it is reflected in the ice so I walk between two fires although the one below is cracked and full of corpses. I have and am a weapon.

Up in the sky there is a hole in Jupiter and it tears at me when I look at it. It tears at me. It is hungry. Maybe the hole is not in Jupiter but in me. Did I ever suffer exhaustion? Someone asked the question. Or maybe I asked it of myself. Then it looked at me.

This moment was real. I was forged by other hands and forced into the role of warrior. According to my scars, I fought and fought. Besides bits and flashes, every battle has been forgotten. But I have this clear, awful sense that others died. In my unit, every soldier was killed except for me. Yet despite a thousand chances to be shredded and scrapped, here I stood, no weapon in my hands, making fists out of habit but with nothing to hit.

That was my sense of things. But our world was collapsing around us, and every soul was doomed. Even cockroaches and microbes would die. And being an expert in the art of losing battles, I saw no ending to this battle but another loss. And I was ashamed. The shame took hold of me.

It shook me. Shame stole my mass and my resolve. Suddenly I felt like a feather, like a breath, like any small nothing ready to be lost in the first breeze. But in the midst of that despair, a fresh thought took hold. I was cursed. And do you know what a curse is? It is stubborn. A curse delivered by the gods will hold you when everything else has given up on you.

And it was obvious that survival was my eternal curse. A thousand battles and how many were won? Judging by the evidence, none. But despite the horrific losses, I had endured. Closing my eyes, I forced my fists to open. To this enemy, to myself. To the wind threatening to carry me away. Built from machinery and the Traveler's Light, Ghosts guide their Guardian companions in the quest to reclaim our solar system.

Every Ghost seeks out its Guardian among the ancient dead. The Ghost serves as scout, librarian, and mechanic, waking ancient machinery and cracking alien codes. In the right situations, a Ghost can even save a Guardian from death. But Ghosts are not immortal. As far as Guardians know, every loss is irreplaceable. Battered and drained of their Light, these Ghosts are nevertheless valuable for the information they preserve. Their recovered memories may well prove vital to the City's survival. The problem of dead Ghosts troubles the City's scholars. Are new Ghosts still being born? Or is the number of Ghosts dwindling?

Will there come a day when no more remain - an end to the rise of new Guardians? If that day is coming, then the City faces a desperate race against time to heal the Traveler before attrition takes its toll. It is a place, a place casting shadows and emotion. It's a real place, I know. One hot blue sun, say. And other suns too. I like seven better. What I'm recalling is a giant star with a family of six smaller suns, and you could spend days and nights counting all of the planets circling those suns Not anymore.

The powers in charge have carved up all of the worlds, and maybe a brown dwarf or two for good measure.

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With that rubble, they fashioned a topologically creative enclosure, a twisting of space and time sealed behind doors that admit only those who know the magic words. The bones of a hundred planets have been cut smooth and laid out like a floor, a polished and lovely floor creating vast living spaces. A floor bigger than ten thousand worlds, catching the fierce glory of the seven suns.

For light, for food. For beauty. And nothing escapes. Not heat, not gravity. Not even the faintest proud sound. It could be anywhere. It can live in the cold between galaxies, or folded up inside matter, near enough to touch right now I remember it and maybe it's exactly as I describe it. Seven suns wrapped inside magic. Or it's something else entirely, perhaps. A place still fat with life.

An abundance of sentient souls, some decent, maybe a few of lesser quality, and everybody stands about or floats about, or they bounce between dimensions. The point is that the residents of this hidden realm live inside a bottle so perfectly hidden that they can't see beyond their own borders. Which shapes a mind in very specific ways. But, Beyond is their name for a mysterious, doubtful realm that they can't see. Which is us, of course. Two more scans and she could move on to the elevated grid.

She didn't even pick up on another Ghost being this close. I'm sorry. Wow, how long has it been? It's been 6. It's just an expression. It HAS been a while. I guess you haven't found yours yet? But I haven't been looking on Mars for that long, at least! I'm optimistic. I was just at the City last year. A lot more of us are starting to find our Guardians latel— what's that? Two Ghosts within twenty meters and she didn't sense either one? Something was off. The new arrival chirped and spoke up.

I haven't been myself lately. He read as nervous. She probably did, too. It was fun! There were puzzles. No one was alive down there, though. It's gone forever, now! Then Obsidian spoke up, his words coming quickly. Good luck! Cassiopeia watched him disappear into the horizon. Only Guardians have the gift of the Traveler's Light - the ability to channel its energies to project vast power into the world. Even without a firearm, a Guardian is a radiant engine of destruction. While these abilities rise from within, Guardians master their power in different ways.

Titans understand the Light as a force to hone through practice and strict discipline. Hunters roam and explore in order to learn, using dangerous methods to survive the wilds. And Warlocks study the Light and its inner mechanisms, confronting unfathomable mysteries in the search for transcendent might. Nothing born is born strong. I know I began weak, the same as you. I don't care if you're an Exo, staring at that number and wondering where you've come from. Or a Human hungry to understand the ancient world that left you for dead. Or an Awoken reborn in the very essence of what your people hide from.

Together, we're the pointed end of a long stick of happenstance. Change one ripple in an ancient ocean and we would never have been granted the Light within us, or the good Ghosts that want to help us. Humble origins. Every world begins as a big pebble lost among trillions of pebbles. Every worthy sun was once cold hydrogen spread thin across the vacuum. Even the universe, this cosmic garden that surrounds us and awes us And everything that's splendid and great stands at the end of incalculable chance and mayhem. Yes, you have talents.

Enormous, wondrous powers. But you should put the smirk away. Do you know what a Guardian is? Your name is another pebble. Phoenix Armor , made by the Sirta Foundation , regenerates health when worn. Generally, the various Hahne-Kedar armors all models have the same stats , are the best in class of common armor, usually levels better than the remaining manufacturers. The only other armor worth looking at is Titan Armor Rosenkov Materials , which has higher damage protection than HK, but lower shields. This glitch results in equipping any armor you have on any character in the party, regardless of restrictions.

In the equipment menu, on armor selection, find the armor you wish to equip greyed out or not. Count from that armor down to the bottom of the list of armor. Press X to enter upgrade selection. Select any upgrade, and hit Y to convert to Omnigel, but almost simultaneously press and hold A, and don't release. Once the prompt to confirm conversion to Omnigel appears, release A and press B. The selection screen will appear different - as if selecting armor, but with upgrades in the selection list, and the Icons describing the selection will appear strange 1 icon, then 3 other repeating icons if done correctly.

Scroll to the bottom of the list of upgrades, then scroll up the number you previously counted down from armors. Equip the 'upgrade', and the armor you previously picked will be equipped instead. Note: This glitch does not appear to be able to forcibly give any armor with less than 3 upgrade slots, additional slots through upgrade-transferring. Also note: To be able to select all armors from the list, you need to have an equal or greater number of upgrades to armor. This glitch requires the armor you want to equip to be at the top of the armor list.

To perform it, open the armor upgrade window by clicking on an upgrade, then double-click the equip button rapidly. Inventory management is left as an exercise to the reader, but remember that any new armor is at the top of the list. Note: On PC the same effect can be achieved via the console. Any armor you give to yourself is equipped on your character, even if it is invalid.

While the bonus stats for the DLC armors are relatively high, only the Kestrel Armor can be customized in the same way as the N7 Armor. Armor sets for your squadmates are pre-determined in stats and appearance. Alternate appearances can be unlocked by completing the squadmate's loyalty mission, or by downloading an Alternate Appearance Pack DLC. Commander Shepard's armor can be customized by swapping out pieces of the default N7 Armor for pieces purchased from merchants , or made available as downloadable content , by using the armor locker aboard the Normandy SR Multiple minor fixes.

Extensively modified the Distribution script. Introduced many extra Configuration Menu options. Updated integrated compatibility. Included basic English language versions of MCM translation files for all official languages. Straight donations accepted Donate. An armor compilation mod assembled by Hothtrooper With great contributions from Eckss.

I would like to personally name the Nexus users who have decided to make a donation for my hard work. Games Full games list Add current game. A Dragonsteel Spellbreaker. Cherry ECE Preset. Chinese Translation for Immersive Armors. Crafters Storage. Fal'dusa Del'wulf. Falron the Swift. Femboy Race Reborn -Immersive Armor pack-. Hired Guards. IA Snowbear replace boot bracer and helmet. IA Witchplate Replace. Immersive Armor - deutsch. Immersive Armor v8 Reproccer Fix.

Immersive Armors - Czech translation. Immersive Armors - Falkreath Armor with amidianBorn and protective female patch.