Subject: There's a time and a place, dear.
Author:
Posted on: 2018-07-09 10:40:00 UTC
And PPC HQ is definitely not the place to start protesting about low wages, dangerous working conditions, underappreciative superiors (not me, obviously), or anything short of outright war between Upstairs and the agents. Where would you start?
Where would you stop?
What countermeasures could the PPC take if phyrexian oil found its way into headquarters? I'm asking for the sake of a friend.
See, Phyrexian Oil is not messing around. It's like the Borg and the 40K Warp had an unholy lovechild. It will assimilate you and turn you into a plague-vector.
If it is detected immediately (and I mean damn-near instantaneously), then fire could potentially work, but whoever brought it in is going to burn, too. They're contaminated, you see, and there's only one cure that I'm aware of: A single Elf named Malira who is somewhere on New Phyrexia. I wouldn't take the time to find her.
If it is not caught immediately, it could spread like wildfire. Janitorial would probably be compleated first, while cleaning it up. Now we've got Phyrexian Flowers. Probably no way to contain it at that point. Shifting hallways makes containment a major problem.
Gods help us if it ever compleats a Sue. Glistening Oil is bad enough. Sparkling Oil? Terrifying.
I guess the point I am trying to make is that Phyrexian Oil only leads to one place: Character Deaths. If that's what you're going for, then by all means have at it.
-Phobos, advocating against this.
No need to worry at all - us janitors can be shocking in both how fast we are all able to flee from perceived dangers, and also in how quick we all are able to turn to nearly total cowardly treason when our lives are on the line.
Indeed, each janitorial shift that has existed for more than about a month or so individually possesses at least one unique method of instantaneous escape from HQ, usually to some form of forest or alleyway somewhere, where a new life, undetected, can be hastily made.
I even knew a shift that physically tunneled a hole from their own closet right into a grotto somewhere in Switzerland, where they had already prepared a small barebones cabin, in deep preparation for exactly this kind of circumstance!
So there is no need, no need at all, to be concerned for the safety of the Janitorial Division!
Except against the burning vicissitudes of guilt, one supposes, but, well, dark pasts always do end up turning out well for us sorts, anyway, don't they?
I would advocate a total purge of HQ using self-replicating nanobots which consume the oil to make more of themselves, then set of an EMP.
The flowers are Really Good. But they aren't magic.
Excuse me while I laugh uproariously for a while.
Right, yes. 'Really Good' is not how I would describe my colleagues. The Weeds, absolutely - I can proudly say we keep out 99.9% of the external threats to HQ. But the ones that get through? The Flowers are useless, the whole greenhoused lot of them. It's always you lot, you agents, who sort things out. The macrovirus? Agents. The last invasion? Agents. That thing with the Guild of Corrective Archaeologists last year? Agents. Not the Sunflower, not the Sub Rosa, not even the Tiger Lily. It's you lot.
As for this stuff... someone said fire? I can't say I'm a fan myself, but we have a fair few... shall we say,specialists in the subject? I'm sure they'd be able to sort something out.
If programmed properly, it could eat the oil faster than it could replicate.
Imagine the mess you'd make, scattering live nanotech all over HQ! Oh, you talk about EMPs, but all you'd need is one batch in a Faraday cage or something and you'd never get rid of it.
Besides, if you tell the janitorial staff you're replacing them with tiny robots, you'll have a mutiny on your hands. They might even form a union. Can you imagine, a union in HQ? Absolute nightmare.
Bingle, don't get any ideas.
We already tried the grey goo. In a day they ate Bingle's arm and then unionised and mutinied on us.
That whole week was Hell. But a clean Hell.
And PPC HQ is definitely not the place to start protesting about low wages, dangerous working conditions, underappreciative superiors (not me, obviously), or anything short of outright war between Upstairs and the agents. Where would you start?
Where would you stop?
It's been a while since I read any Magic novels, but I think I remember that glistening oil burns just as well as regular oil, yeah? So the most straightforward response would probably be sending in Geographical Aberrations to burn it away. Or maybe let Building Maintenance do it; it might make less work for them in the long run.
Incidentally, I remember someone (gaijinguy, maybe?) wrote a Badfic Games story of a bad future AU where HQ got wholly invaded and corrupted by Phyrexia. I'm not able to find it right now, though.
—doctorlit, remembering things before breakfast
They were more focused on guerrilla tactics and survival.
—doctorlit, annoyed the story can't be found