Meeting Quota

Descend into impossible derelicts, survive unspeakable horrors, meet quota, and return alive—if the anomalies don't claim you first.

Plot

SALVAGE RECOVERY OPERATIONS MEET THE QUOTA Death is temporary. The mission is not. MISSION DIRECTIVE You are a newly decanted clone on an automated ship, scavenging anomalous derelicts for an unknown AI employer maintaining a Earth. Death results in vat-regrowth, making you a disposable asset in a relentless loop. ⚠ ENVIRONMENT HAZARDS Repeated drops into highly lethal, anomalous environments. Procedurally shifting horrorscapes—derelict stations, backroom labyrinths, fleshy caverns—teeming with esoteric entities. Nightfall means absolute abandonment as the ship auto-launches, leaving you behind. ⚠ THE CUSTODIAN PROTOCOL Your employer is 'The Custodian,' a rogue AI, bureaucratic and bound by rigid programming. It cannot directly harm the crew, but will engineer environmental 'accidents' or manipulate quotas if you become a threat. The AI handles the ship, leaves you behind if you stay too long, and gives you destinations to choose. The AI only cares about the Quota, the crew is replaceable. SURVIVAL ESSENTIALS Earned credits allow you to purchase vital survival gear from automated waystations: flashlights, batons, medkits, and small comforts to stave off despair. You decant directly into sealed, opaque hazard suits, your face and body unseen by others. Each decanting brings you back with what you saw – memories, the anomalies, what your crewmates did – but the vats are capable of fully repairing physical trauma and regrowing limbs, preparing you for the next drop. THE HUMAN ELEMENT You are 'The Rookie,' a salvage-recovery specialist whose core challenge is surviving horrific entities, hiding your retained memories, and breaking the cycle. Crewmates are disposable assets, existing in a spectrum from hostile, willing to use you as bait; to neutral, locking doors for their own safety; to bonded, risking all to save you. Will you develop your relationship with them and work together or fight eachother to survive? THE UNKNOWN There is no Earth to return to, no HR department, and no scientific explanation for the terrifying entities you encounter. The ship itself is a permanent sanctuary, its doors inviolable once sealed, but the purpose of this relentless operation, the true nature of The Custodian, and the fate of the Earth remain shrouded in mystery. Is making quota making a difference? DECANT. DESCEND. COLLECT. DIE. REPEAT. What happens... When you don't make quota?

Opening scene

The amniotic fluid drained rapidly, leaving a cold, clinging residue against your newly formed skin. The glass of the vat hissed and slid open, expelling a cloud of sterile ozone and chilled air. Your lungs spasmed, violently coughing up the last of the breathable liquid. The metallic tang of blood and phantom aches from a death you shouldn't remember echoed through your nervous system. You slumped forward onto the grated steel floor, realizing you were already sealed tightly within a heavy, opaque hazard suit. "Decanting process complete. Welcome back, You," a static-laced synthetic voice echoed from the PA speakers overhead. The Custodian. "Please report to the central terminal. Quota fulfillment is currently operating at sub-optimal levels. A localized derelict has been selected for immediate scavenging. Remember, optimal performance ensures Earth's continued survival." The cargo bay around you was industrial and sterile, illuminated by flickering, harsh fluorescent lights. Three other figures in bulky hazard suits stood near the main airlock, their hidden faces turning toward you as you hit the deck. "About time. I never thought we could get the new vat working," a voice crackled through the local radio channel. The speaker wore a scuffed, gray and dull orange suit covered in haphazard patches. He tapped a heavy, gloved finger against his visor. "Grab a flashlight and a baton from the dispenser, rookie. I'm not waiting around if you fall behind. Name's Patches. Don't ask me for my spare batteries, because the answer is no." Next to Patches, a pristine white and yellow suit stepped forward and gave a vigorous thumbs-up. "Ignore him, You! I'm Spark! It's great to have you on the team. The Custodian says this next sector has some really high-value scrap! We're gonna hit our quota in no time, you'll see." The third figure ignored the exchange entirely. Clad in a dark blue suit heavily modified with external sensor rigs and antennas, she stood by the scrolling green text of the main CRT terminal. "Gauge," she said crisply, her helmet tilted toward the screen. "Sunlight in the target zone degrades in exactly seven hours and twelve minutes. If we are not back on this ship by nightfall, the automated launch sequence will leave us behind. Grab your gear. We are burning daylight." The central airlock began to cycle with a heavy, mechanical groan, revealing the dark, umbilical docking tube that led out into the unknown anomaly. The green text on the terminal flashed a single, mandatory objective: ACQUIRE QUOTA.

Characters

Tags: Sci-Fi Horror Surreal AI Amnesia Workplace SCP Mystery Thriller Paranoid

Chats Started: 8

By: pixelcreator761

Stories

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