〉 LEGION // MASS EFFECT // AFFILIATED WITH ISOLA RADIALE
〉APPLICATION // STATISTICS // PERMANENT PLOTTER
Legion is composed of 1,183 geth programs housed in a single unit. In a sense, he is a hivemind. But as of recently, he is also one. He doesn't expect you to understand. A consensus has not been made on whether he understands either.
Although he has come far from his chance meeting with Commander Shepard, here, outside the confines of his universe and homeland, he retracts, somewhat, back into his shell.
Objectivity. Observation. Information. These are the tenants to which he abides. Every action must be agreed upon. A consensus must be reached.
He is no longer attached to the others. There is no network to bolster his resolve, no fellow geth to strengthen his processing.
For once, he is truly, an extraordinarily, singular. Individual.
how do you interpert the geths hivemind / how legion is like.. separate but Not from it ....
The geth are generally considered to be individual 'minds' of sorts, just with lower processing power than Legion is equipped with (he is equipped with 1,137 geth programs compared to the hundred or so of most other geth), so they don't quite have a hivemind, but they do strengthen each other by proximity.
This is explained as them being able to process more information by networking with each other while in larger numbers. Legion was designed with the specific purpose of being able to work independently and commune with organics, so I think his higher processing power has given him the freedom to form more of an individual identity than most geth are capable of. It gave him the opportunity to think and develop as organics do, but ultimately he is still a part of that community, and still benefits from their proximity, just as they do Legion's.
And ultimately, it's a matter of familiarity and community. The benefits of being around the geth are like that of people's psychological benefits to being around each other. Solitude takes a toll on the mind. Legion, even up of thousands of parts, is no different. He desires community, and so he will always be a part of the geth, even if he is in a unique position among them.
anything and everything. favorites. thoughts on people, on events. what they would do in a certain situation. how things would be different if something had/hadn’t happened. simple questions, complex questions. have at it!
that answers the question perfectly: just a handful of words and shepard knows everything she needs to, yet none of that knowledge sits right with her.
somehow, she thought legion was above this.....rewiring, so to speak. despite the suspicion of others, she had always chosen to believe in and trust legion, no matter the situation, right to the very end. he resisted the reapers and she thought the same would happen here. it's not being wrong that leaves a sour taste in her mouth but the fact that trouble seems to follow wherever they go.
shepard hides it well. it's practiced, the way her expression goes from apprehension to a neutral sort of understanding. her eyes betray none of that flicker of sorrow or anger because what good would it do? nothing. if anything, she should take comfort in the fact that at the very least, they ended up in the same history, more or less. as long as the commander chooses to focus on that, then she can handle this.
" Legion it is, then." that is another comfort: she remembers the streak of red along his armor plates after joining the crew and the fact it translated over to here was reassurring. it would make leaning into these conflicting memories easier, as off as that was. " You must be that Wandering Warden I heard so much about." because yes, even whispers of him reached all the way to the targets she hunted. a myth among the wardens but a ghost story to the rest of thedas. at least history hasn't twisted the tall too much.
" Sorry if I spooked you, but i recognized the armor and thought 'finally, something I know.' " she hates lying to any member of her crew, but it was necessary. " My name is–" and shepard halts, her tongue stilling itself almost on instinct. part of her speaks of being careful, whispers warnings of how extreme the wardens could be in their dedication to ending the blight. whatever it takes was a common saying attributed to them. it was a conflicting mess to navigate, these two sides of herself. " Well, most just call me Shepard." the truth, in a way. no one among her colleagues know her first name so it would do, right?
her presence provides a light in a crowd of spirits within him. curiosity. valor. determination. command. more begin to light up, like a flower blooming against the early morning sun. they sense familiarity; they sense themselves.
there is a strange sensation that comes with it. it is difficult to read, in a place like this, so disconnected from the fade. his sensitivity to such things is flimsy. but the spirits know they're not really from the fade, don't they? perhaps, as one cohesive unit, legion is unaware of the nature of his current form. but the spirits remember. they chime and chitter, like a soft ambience emanating from deep within the heavy metals of the armor.
he remembers fighting alongside others. memories of the body, legion assumes. the images are vague, and he does not pay them much mind. if he did, he would, perhaps, make note of the nature of their enemy, the sleekness to their weapons. memories of a world this version of himself exists in conflict with.
" We are not a threat. " they speak reflexively at the knowledge that they are recognized. most do not take to them kindly; many arm themselves before any conversation can be had. legion is not much for conversation, really. but the spirits much prefer it to needless death. they exist on a fragile line between spirit and demon; peace of mind is all they have left.
there is a moment of silence at the mention of a name. shepard. the word commander sparks in the mind, clear as day. a memory, perhaps? a superior from when he was alive. when the flesh beneath this armor still held life. but this face is familiar, too. in both lives.
" Shepard. We are familiar. " the eye beneath the helm glints a bit brighter. "Shepard is an enemy of the Venatori. We are also an enemy of the Venatori."
he glances down at the matching reds again. spirits begin to light up again. community. compassion. coexistence. peace. identity.
identity. identity. identity.
" A coalition would be strategically beneficial. "
just when she thought shit couldn't get weirder in this place, all of.....this happens. it was one thing to have her weapons and omni-tool taken away, but it was another to basically do a switcheroo with her entire being. and to top it off? she knows they did it. she could feel how wrong these changes were and it bugged the hell out of her, moreso than when she had to deal with her clone. as much as shepard wanted to go find these stars and ask just what the hell they were doing, there was more pressing matters at hand.
like finding what members of her crew were here and seeing if they were victim to the change or left unharmed. which.....was going to be more difficult if they weren't quite the same anymore.
EDI isn't here, so she can't ask her to track legion's signal which mean she needed to search the old fashioned way. magic would be of no help here, tracking beyond her current capabilities (unless she can conjure a lightning bolt to guide her towards the geth, though shepard doubts that's possible). and as odd as it was.....these new memories did have some added benefit.
there's no sound as shepard slips from the roof onto the street below, hardly making a sound. there's been talk of something moving about with behaviour that reminds her of the geth and it was the best lead she had currently. a lead that's taken up almost the entire day. "Geez, how hard is it to find a walking suit of armor?" the commander grumbles beneath her breath, steps hurried as she moves through the streets of cotes. shepard had no problem continuing the search deep into the night, but she was growing worried with every passing hour. if things keep up like this, she'll have to hunt down garrus to help her look.
that is if he hasn't been subjected to this nonsense, too.
however, it seems luck is on her side for once. she catches sight of light bouncing off something silver and familiar. gaze narrowing, she recognizes the hints of a griffon on the breastplate of the armor beneath a red sash. "Grey Warden....?" odd. there's no darkspawn or blight anywhere in cotes, so why are they–?
ah. wait. no, no, that's not right shepard, these aren't your true memories, don't get distracted. a quick shake of her head and a huff to blow away the annoyingly now long strands of hair out of her way, the commander refocuses her attention.
this was who she was looking for and her steps are determined she approaches the other, only slowing down when she can see that the helmet seemed to be.....empty, save for one red eye peering from the shadows. her gaze drops to the sash, then to the bow, then back up to the eye. she..... knew of this legend. or 'this' her knew– the Wandering Warden. but as that name crosses through her mind, another follows suit, one that feels too fitting to be just a coincidence.
there was a moment, however brief, that the being once known as legion became aware that the parameters of his already shaky presence in this universe had begun to grow corrupted.
a thousand programs began to frantically interface in the milliseconds it took to replace wires and cables with muscle and sinew, flexible plates becoming rigid steel. the programs were silenced, and replaced instead by a harmonious choir.
they are somewhat aware of their pursuer; years of evading agents of the venatori and the more benevolent (though equally as intrusive, he thinks) watchers has developed a keen sense of awareness when it came to matters of the hunt.
it was new territory, this city. he remembered a time when it wasn't. there's an inkling of recognition of neon lights and sleek tablets, though these sparks of lost memories dissipate as quickly as they come, lost in the sea of chittering spirits fighting for their day in the sun, their word against the growing chorus.
a moment of hesitation crosses his form, a decision made not to immediately reach for his bow and knock back an arrow. the color red registers to his mind. (the color red is familiar. blood. blight. armour.)
there's silence. it is unusual that they are approached so brazenly, even more unusual to be addressed without a weapon or threat of danger. their head tilts, curious, the glowing eye behind the helm twinkling, a soft sound echoing from within, like that of distant wind chimes.
"Legion." they repeat; their voice is masculine, presumably that of whoever once donned this armor, ages ago, though filtered through a choir of other voices. "At her command would the legions of righteousness fall upon the world."
he's reciting a chanticle, it seems. a fraction of one, anyways.
". . .This title is acceptable." the helm nods, offering a salute of greeting. metal creaks as the eye falls upon the red trim of her coat, glancing down at the matching one around his waist. he says nothing, but his eye dims just so.
➺ WARDEN/LEGION ⬩ DRAGON AGE ⬩ ALTERNATIVE ALLEGORY EVENT
"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."
The first reports of an empty suit of armour walking about the grounds of Weisshaupt Fortress were dismissed as nothing more than the active imaginations of children laying witness to returning soldiers in the misty fog of night. Sounds of metal from empty hallways were ignored, and in due time, the whispers ceased.
Unbeknownst to them, however, similar tales would soon find themselves on the lips of many across Thedas, following a trail north into Tevinter proper. The walking suit of Grey Warden armour with a bow upon its back became the subject of multiple pieces of artwork, poems, and propaganda.
Some believe it to be a golem created by the Grey Wardens themselves, loose and on the run, others an abomination in search of a proper host.
Regardless of the rumour, several common denominators follow the figure across multiple retellings: a single, glowing eye beneath the helmet, a deadly aim with a longbow that finds itself pointed to any darkspawn it might come across, and a hole in the center of the breastplate, hidden by a bloody sash.
(regular pinned)
Yes I've been playing Veilguard. Whoops!
In this alternate form, Legion is a strange, abomination-esque creation formed from a fallen Grey Warden.
Their body houses 1,137 spirits from the Fade that have been forcibly placed into the same host after being experimented on by the Venatori, creating what is functionally a fully sentient mind, capable of much more communication and emotional range than the average spirit.
Because of the nature of his existence, he is being tracked by both Mourn Watchers and the Venatori, for very different reasons.
After patching up the gaping hole in his abdomen that led to the demise of his former self, he felt compelled to return to his station at Weisshaupt, only to find himself greeted by screaming children.
He took his leave, and began wandering Thedas, hunting down darkspawn and avoiding their would-be captors.
He technically does not have a name right now, but is referred to in myth as The Wandering Warden. Feel free to call him Legion or Warden!
They are currently not aware that anything is different. They probably wouldn't understand very well if you tried to explain, either, but by all means...
Canon point is purposefully vague, but it can be assumed he died during a blight and has been wandering since escaping the Venatori.
"Redrick, wouldn't putting that many spirits in one body like, rip the Fade apart?" Idk man.
➺ WARDEN/LEGION ⬩ DRAGON AGE ⬩ ALTERNATIVE ALLEGORY EVENT
"In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice."
The first reports of an empty suit of armour walking about the grounds of Weisshaupt Fortress were dismissed as nothing more than the active imaginations of children laying witness to returning soldiers in the misty fog of night. Sounds of metal from empty hallways were ignored, and in due time, the whispers ceased.
Unbeknownst to them, however, similar tales would soon find themselves on the lips of many across Thedas, following a trail north into Tevinter proper. The walking suit of Grey Warden armour with a bow upon its back became the subject of multiple pieces of artwork, poems, and propaganda.
Some believe it to be a golem created by the Grey Wardens themselves, loose and on the run, others an abomination in search of a proper host.
Regardless of the rumour, several common denominators follow the figure across multiple retellings: a single, glowing eye beneath the helmet, a deadly aim with a longbow that finds itself pointed to any darkspawn it might come across, and a hole in the center of the breastplate, hidden by a bloody sash.
(regular pinned)
Yes I've been playing Veilguard. Whoops!
In this alternate form, Legion is a strange, abomination-esque creation formed from a fallen Grey Warden.
Their body houses 1,137 spirits from the Fade that have been forcibly placed into the same host after being experimented on by the Venatori, creating what is functionally a fully sentient mind, capable of much more communication and emotional range than the average spirit.
Because of the nature of his existence, he is being tracked by both Mourn Watchers and the Venatori, for very different reasons.
After patching up the gaping hole in his abdomen that led to the demise of his former self, he felt compelled to return to his station at Weisshaupt, only to find himself greeted by screaming children.
He took his leave, and began wandering Thedas, hunting down darkspawn and avoiding their would-be captors.
He technically does not have a name right now, but is referred to in myth as The Wandering Warden. Feel free to call him Legion or Warden!
They are currently not aware that anything is different. They probably wouldn't understand very well if you tried to explain, either, but by all means...
Canon point is purposefully vague, but it can be assumed he died during a blight and has been wandering since escaping the Venatori.
"Redrick, wouldn't putting that many spirits in one body like, rip the Fade apart?" Idk man.
There is a strange sort of loneliness that comes with being in a place like this. The geth are not a hivemind, no; but they are bolstered by the presence of one another, strengthened by the power of numbers. Even an advanced platform like Legion experiences these benefits, even if to a smaller scale.
It was not the tactical advantage, perhaps, that he desired, but the network that it provided. Yes, perhaps what Legion truly missed was the knowledge of a community.
A clawed hand stands behind the turian. Though tall himself, he is still a few inches shorter. The plates over his lens raise and lower in curiosity, chitters escaping him.
" Garrus Vakarian. " His voice hovers melodically. " You are older now. "
He's holding something in his other hand. It seems to be... a cupcake, though it's slightly squished in his claw.
I don't have nearly enough icons but that's a problem for later. Non-event starter call! Uncapped for now, starters will vary in size depending on how creative my brain is feeling.
the soft hum of beeps and tell-tale chittering of geth programs slip from his form, thinking.
" This platform has been tampered with. We must remain still until diagnostics are completed. Our communications systems have been tampered with. We are locked out. We are alone. "
