#ice war

[thefiresontheheight]

PSA

WHAT IS HAPPENING: Ice War WHERE IS IT HAPPENING: On Europa, a Gallilean moon of Jupiter WHO ARE THE COMBATANTS: Unclear WHY ARE THE FIGHTING: Also unclear

[ringmaster-cainette]

Some highlights of the Europa Ice War

[website-enjoyer]

[the-river-delta]

News about the Europa Ice War, from the guy who started it

For context in case someone missed it: this past week has had an explosion of fiction and art being posted to Twitter and to a lesser extent a few other social media sites, accounts and memoirs of a brutal eternal conflict on Jupiter's icy moon Europa.

At first people thought this was a spontaneous fic situation like Goncharov, but it turns out to have been viral marketing for an (upcoming?) tabletop roleplaying game zine that got wildly out of hand (up to and including some indirect acknowledgment from a NASA social media account).

So it's less unreality and more, fanfic I guess.

...And now I really badly want to get my hands on that zine, I was already starting to brainstorm how to translate the thing into an RPG and turns out I won't even have to lmao.

[pharah-airways]

some of my favorites

[sasookei]

my dealer: got some straight gas. this strain is called "the war-torn ice moon Europa" you'll be zonked out of your gourd.

me: yeah whatever. I dont feel shit.

5 minutes later: dude i swear i saw something in the ice tunnels 

my buddy jove, pacing: the europaviki are lying to us

[alltheginkgoleaves]

[achillesangst]

The thing the recruiters never mention is the dryness. Oh, they joke about the cold, bring your socks lads, but it’s the thirst that really kills you. The endless itch of your freezing skin shrinking, dried relentlessly out by the psuit. Harvesting moisture you didn’t realise you could lose. No drink to quench your parched throat- all rations through your port, so your mask never has to come off. There are stories of old troopers having to relearn how to eat, to drink- too used to convenience, I guess. The warmies laugh at first, at the Europa rasp, but they stop laughing pretty soon. Hurts too damn bad, especially in those early days where your body remembers comfort. And always, around you, the ice. Glossy blue in the light, the colour of heaven. A chip melting on your tongue- an impossible luxury. You haven’t tasted water in so long. The cold, the melt, the way it would clack against your teeth. You’d give anything to drink it, mask and precious oxygen be damned, but the ice is pretty poison. The things that live here, under Jove, are stronger than any of us. The troops that succumb to temptation die slow, twitching. They say the things in the ice put holes in your brain, sponge like. The worst part is they smile as they die. Smile like that final drink was worth it