In our last game the morph Jodie was born into (her natural body) was shot up and her company decided it would be better for her to make the transition into a new body. They also decided that she ought to undergo some psychotherapy to alleviate the effects of the stress of her latest mission, which might not on the whole be a bad idea! Jodie is anxious about the idea of moving into a body she wasn't born in, in a permanent basis, and Cassie (Jodie's MUSE and a beta fork of a childhood friend) is beginning to suspect that Jodie's quirks aren't entirely to do with the fact that she's not an Ordinary Uplift. Will Cassie get confirmation of Jodie's budding psionic powers? And if so, will she be able to protect the pig, her host, and her dearest friend? Will Jodie be able to afford to send the children she saved somewhere they will be safe, and cared for? Find out next time!

WARNING: The following journal is a grim insight into our piggy's mind, she's not had a brilliant past so don't expect sunshine and roses. This is more a serious sort of journal, dealing with internal conflict.

Eclipse Phase belongs to Posthuman Studios
Jodie belongs to me
I'm playing in a campaign run by the wonderfully talented Aurora

[Jodie’s personal log]
Cassie’s Foreword:

The doctors think it’ll be good for Jodie to form a log of her thoughts and feelings - since it’s a little harder to open up her brain than it is for any other Ego, I suppose this is the next best diagnostic tool they have. I’ll have to go through and edit out anything that might be potentially incriminating, or anything that doesn’t make sense. Most of what’s written here will be in the voice of my own writing, rather than hers because, well, Jodie doesn’t write, for a start. She doesn’t know how. What follows is an unedited translation of Jodie’s thoughts as of this morning, I’ve marked it down for later review.

We’ll keep this all between us for now, Jodie. I need to have a word with you about...

The other voices.

[Begin here]

Weird to think I’ll be waking up with a new body. Not that it’s the first time, of course, but there is something strange about leaving behind one’s own Morph with no intent to come back to it. I nearly asked the techs if there was any way they could patch it up, you know, for old time’s sake. Cassie assured me however, that it wasn’t a good idea and after her explanation of the costs involved I must agree. If my client is willing to pay for a new body, then a new body I shall have. I’m just glad it’s another Neopig, and not one of those machines.

It’s bad enough that I’m stuck in Simulspace for the moment, barely granted the briefest of glimpses into reality. Those that I am given are usually of the sour, confused faces of doctors or status updates of my mauled and grisled body. Disgustingly, once they peeled away the armour there really wasn’t anything left of the person I used to be. Everything was bullet holes and blood. It was meat, really. And although it worries Cassie to hear me say it, I feel like I’m missing something here in Simulspace. In this simulated body, I feel as though I lack an awareness that I had back in reality. It’s like the world is blurred around the edges, things that were once crystal clear have become foggy. Cassie hates to hear me talk like this. She’s often worried for my safety, but I haven’t seen her worry about me like this before. I know as my MUSE I could command her to tell me what she’s thinking, but I’ll let her have her privacy. No doubt she’ll approach me with her suspicions when the time is right. For now, I consider the requests of my doctors, and the future that has been laid out ahead of me.

The doctors want to open me up, to reach into my mind and pull out the source of my nightmares. Quite honestly it’s that very thought which would keeps me awake at night. I relive childhood memories, half blotted out by hastily performed psychosurgery. Men with needles, pain stabbing every part of my body and a voice that echoes inside of my head that tells me I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough. Sometimes, I hear the squeals of my brothers and sisters, maybe even Cassie, and I awaken in a cold sweat. To be hastily awakened at least I am grateful for. I could not bear to relive that sound a moment more than I have to.

I will save you, Cassie.

I’ve spent some time thinking about it, and I think I’ll get a tattoo. Nothing fancy, no need for one of those smart tattoos or anything, just a simple line that runs from the bottom of my eye, a ways down my cheek. Something to remind me, every time I see my reflection, that I have saved a life.That the blood I have spilled... it can still be balanced by the good I can do.

The children... of course I can’t say too much, but they’re doing well from what I’m told. I would like to be there with them. I feel like I alone might hold some insight into what’s going through their minds - if only I could express it. They grew up in small, cramped quarters, never knowing true safety, finding love in an ever shortening number of peers. When I looked into their eyes I saw my own, reflected. I had to help. I’ll be spending a significant part of my paycheck ensuring that I alone retain control over their futures, for this is the only way I can be sure they will be truly free. Exodus thinks they’ll be safe on Titan, I’ll buy a home for them there, along with any of the adults who wish to accompany them. Perhaps I’ll even buy a Morph to Farcast into, during my down time, so that I can see them learn and grow.

In this way, I might be saved.

[Journal End]