Which Mersive Polaris doth suit thee?
Answer four questions touching thy rooms, networks and team, to learn which Polaris setup fitteth thy needs.
Answer four questions touching thy rooms, networks and team, to learn which Polaris setup fitteth thy needs.
Rogue signals do jam the airspace above the room. Thou art the pod — clear the channel. Jammers rain down static, splitters multiply, and every fourth wave the FIREWALL sweepeth in. Signals felled do drop powered displays: relay shield, dual beam, the piercing LANCE and the wide-angled SWEEP.
The shares come ever on. Compose the workspace — complete a row and it rendereth to the display. Hold a piece for anon, trust thou the ghost, and slam it home when thou art sure.
Aliens are looting Earth's audiovisual gear, and someone has to invoice them for it. You're the AV Integrator: fight through three decks of their freighter, shoot the capsules open, and take the equipment back — HDMI becomes a Blaster, a Display fans into Multicast, Coil fires Fiber, a Speaker is pure Subwoofer. Switches level your weapon, Surges take one hit for you. Snatchers steal; make them regret it. A boss holds every deck.
Some thing doth nest within the farthest switch fabric. Run thou the corridors, devour every stray packet, and mark the four interference glyphs — each hunteth after its own fashion. Seize a powered display and, for some few seconds, the hunters become the hunted. Ten sectors lie 'twixt thee and a clean network.
Ten displays across the broadcast campus have gone dark, and the interference strutteth about as though it owned the place. Run thou the loading dock, the cable trench, the rooftop, the mezzanine and the antenna tower, then press on through the uplink yard, the static fields, the rack canyon, the microwave bridge and master control — stomp the glyphs flat, bank the signal bits, bump the cache blocks, plant the midpoint flag, ride the ferries, and touch every display back to Polaris green. When the game is done, a CONTINUE is offered from the top of the level that bested thee.
The campus's flagship display was stolen and walled up within a fortress beyond the north-east mesa. Cross thou a hundred screens of field, wood, river and dead server yard, crimper in hand — find the two small keys, beware the spikes, arrows and false floors, put five strikes into the CRT TYRANT's open screen, and raise the display where it doth belong. Five hollow caves do hide heart containers, and the RELAY TOWER upon the south-west shore keepeth the MERSIVE POLARIS — press X to seize what lieth before thee, or to send the puck flying out and back.
The dongle users pour forth from the rings in formation: HDMI drones, button wingmen, and the great conference pucks that rule the show. Hold thou the line in the Polaris fighter. They swoop in, regroup, take breath, and dive. Beware the boss pucks' PAIRING BEAM — be caught, and thy fighter is theirs. Shoot that boss down mid-dive and thy fighter cometh home to fly beside thee: DUAL FIRE. Every fourth wave is a stage of show — pure flight, pure bounty, PERFECT if thou fell'st every last one.
A course cut across Mercury's night side, from Point A unto Point B, against the clock. The sun here never setteth, nor doth it ever rise — it sitteth upon the horizon, flinging its corona up the sky, and all thou canst see is either lit by it or hiding from it. The way openeth wide and swift, narroweth to a canyon scarce three lanes across, climbeth, and falleth away again, four stages thereof. Keep thou to the basalt: the regolith on either side will drag thee down and take thy speed withal. Ride clean and the craft findeth ever more — the longer thou holdest the line, the faster it shall let thee go, and the yellow pads are how thou gettest there the sooner.