Speaking of MOMO, Matthews interrupts Shion and Corey’s lame non-fight to ask her about any potential trouble getting into Proto Merkabah. She assures him that, since it was a manufacturing facility, there shouldn’t be any air defenses. “However,” she says, “security on the inside is most likely still functional. We should be prepared to deal with many active guard machines.” Oh boy, my favorite! I hope there are also Realians with flamethrowers! But even if there were no security of any kind, I doubt that Albedo would just let them waltz in and blow up his new toy without some of his own home-cooked resistance. Then again, that would require him to do more than sit there with his finger on the button, so I’m probably wrong.
Jailbait finds out from Chesty that their reinforcements from Second Miltia were also delayed due to being blown to smithereens. So that sucks. Basically, the planet’s fate lies with the collection of incompetents aboard the Elsa, so I hope they’re evacuating as many citizens as they can. Jailbait asks Gaignun to cover them until they’re safely inside the space station. “I have a request of my own as well,” Gaignun replies. “Don’t let his provocations get to you again.” I’m so sure he’ll restrain himself just because his sugar daddy asked nicely. And what kind of provocations are we talking about here? He can’t sexually assault MOMO again, so is he just going to wag his dick in Jailbait’s face?
After a last quip from Tony about “hazard pay,” har har, the Elsa pulls out of her mother penis and flies toward Proto Merkabah. Astoundingly, MOMO was right, and the ship flies directly there without any interference in the form of technobabble-filled cutscenes. Jailbait moves from the Elsa airlock to the station’s dock, which, as promised, is full of bright yellow robots. And Gnosis hiding in crates, because why the fuck not? Navigating this first area is unusually straightforward–mechanical lifts can go down as well as up!–so I use it as an excuse to throw swimsuits on our two underage protagonists (with Ziggy chaperoning) and farm some much needed tech points. Yes, normally I hate playing this game any longer than I have to, but given that after this I’ll never have to play it again (yay!) I may as well do it right so I don’t die and have to repeat anything.
Ziggy feels enough shame for both of us.
Half an hour or so later, once I have heard all the cries of “Angel ARROW!” that I can reasonably handle in one sitting, the gang proceeds via an actual goddamn normal elevator to the next area. I am finding it difficult to believe that the same mad scientist designed both Proto Merkabah and the Phallus of Nephilim. They get off on the 40th floor, which is apparently the first and only stop for this elevator–from here on, our heroes must use the stairs. So I can continue to celebrate the fact that this is not a stupid one-way puzzle elevator with attached laundry chutes, I’m just going to assume that the dock was on the 39th floor. Even better, I will assume that the game is doing me a favor by not making me go through 39 other floors first.
KOS-MOS runs on her tiny bound feet up the stairs to the 41st floor, where she is immediately greeted by a pack of Gnosis named Delphynes. I know that Delphyne was a dragon in Greek mythology, but the first thing that comes to mind when I see that name is a poor Southern belle who had her name mangled by a shitty parent who probably posts misspelled chain status updates on Facebook. Of course, the Gnosis is vaguely dragon-like–assuming dragons have udders and stingers, which I’m sure they do!–and does not have a parasol or a pitcher of sweet tea, which is more than a little disappointing. The Delphynes are all over the damn place on the following floors, so KOS-MOS and CHAOS!!! join forces to do all the killing while Ziggy stands there and looks handsome. And for some reason, I put a swimsuit on CHAOS!!!, probably because I hate myself.
A wall keeps KOS-MOS from exploring the west side of the corridor, so our robotic heroine walks through a door past the Delphyne into what looks to be an office for Realian research. After browsing through the poster-rack-at-Walmart-style images of Realian ladies, she boots up the computer. In the ensuing cutscene, Shion, MOMO, Ziggy, and CHAOS!!! examine the data. Shion duhs that the data is old, as if the owner of the facility didn’t die horribly years ago and his space station weren’t mothballed in a black hole. They find that the model of Realian in question is the “Lamech Model 3,” one that was made up to a year before the Miltian Conflict, and that all Realians of that model made here were shipped off to a warehouse on Miltia because of an “abnormality.” Translation: someone just stuck a Surgeon General’s label on their asses and called it good. “Please do not use Realians if your head can be removed from your neck or if you are susceptible to bodily damage from flamethrowers.” Shion continues, stupidly, “But why is that data here? What is all of this data for?” I cannot imagine why a Realian research facility, owned by the universe’s foremost expert on Realians, would have data on Realians. I hope they solve that mystery by the end of the series!
Where are all the goddamn Lady Gaga posters?
Well, that was a massive waste of time. Onto the 42nd floor! Delphynes and other Gnosis haunt the stairs, and the best part is, they respawn when the party leaves the stairwell. I changed my mind–fuck that stupid, nonsensical elevator. The only way elevators in this game could be worse is if I were stuck in one with Shion.
Another office on this floor has some more information on this Realian mystery. Guys, I so don’t care at this point. I’m pretty sure I never cared. CHAOS!!! prods Ziggy in the stomach for no reason and tells him, “This one’s a list of the sick and wounded soldiers. Looks like it’s from the Miltian Conflict.” Ziggy nods, and instead of replying, “I know, I can fucking read,” he reads in turn to CHAOS!!!, “They were transferred to Miltia for treatment, just like those Realians we saw earlier. An odd coincidence.” Two groups of people, or people-like things, were sent to the same populous planet at kind of the same time! Get out your tinfoil hats! Shion adds that it looks like the soldiers were mentally ill, which means they might have played this game. Shion deduced this from the medications they were prescribed, something I imagine many trained professionals could do, but Jailbait decides she really is a fucking genius for having this knowledge. “I guess there’s a reason why you’re a chief engineer at Vector,” he tells her. While I could take this as Jailbait giving Shion a backhanded compliment, I know this game better than that. Besides, she works at Vector with fucking robots–not humans, not even Realians! Does this mean the pharmacist at the CVS down the street is qualified to build a nuclear sex robot too? Even Shion thinks this is an odd thing to say, and goes “…” at Jailbait. I mean, really.
I’ve got to finish this game before even sweet Jailbait is ruined forever.
The party takes a moment to kill a Delphyne that was hiding in a centrifuge in the corner, and then to stare longingly through a large window at an inaccessible glowing green button, before leaving the room and returning to the 42nd floor corridor. This corridor, too, is separated by a wall, so it’s up the stairs again to fight more Delphynes. By the time I’ve made a sandwich and read a few emails, KOS-MOS has reached a door on the 43rd floor labeled “CONTROL ROOM.” Inside is a holographic model of Proto Merkabah and the most beautiful sight to be had in this game, a save point.
Checking out the hologram prompts another Choad Chat as the idiot posse checks out the controls and monitoring stations. “It seems all the controls are centralized here,” Ziggy duhs as they search for the reactor core. Why the control room for this behemoth of a space station is arbitrarily located on the 43rd floor and is only accessible by stairs, but is not locked or at all secure, is beyond me. Shion says of the reactor core, “It seems to be far below where we are,” meaning a) Shion is once again about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, and b) I’ve been going the wrong fucking way.
Hoo boy.
After finding out that they need to go down, not up, to reach their destination, the gang leaves the control room and heads…up the next flight of stairs. This must be another mangled Bible reference–I think Jesus said something like, “To go up, you must go down,” which actually sounds like Shion’s career motto. But in this case going up is the thing. Ms. Vector will have to bury her disappointment, maybe where she buries everything else.
The 44th floor, unlike the previous floors, is one room with no dividing walls, meaning the party can get to the west side of the floor and use the other stairwell. Not, of course, without fighting a few Gnosis, including more Delphynes and a new entry that is disappointingly named “Demon.” Yes, it does kind of look like a devil, albeit a flying devil with anorexia, but what gives with that name? Was it 4:30 and nobody felt like thinking of any new ideas before heading out for happy hour? Anyway, Creatively Named Demon uses an instant death attack, something the strategy guide warns me about, true to form, after it’s too late to accrue enough skill points to protect against it. Nothing new there.
After plundering a chest for a Dragon Rod, a “weapon” that sounds entirely too adult for MOMO, new leader Jailbait leaves via the western door and finds another stairwell. Returning to floor 43, he presses a button to open the door between the two sides of the corridor, which allows me to save without making a federal case out of it. Of course, not having the door there at all would have been even more convenient. In the room next to the control room, Jailbait discovers one of the two remaining Segment Address doors, this one hiding BLOOD9, a gun for his own cute self.
Down on 42, Jailbait gets to hit the button that previously lay out of reach behind the plate glass window. Pressing it ignites a column of purple fire that shoots up a pole all the way to the 44th floor, opening another locked door. And, for some reason, respawning all the Gnosis in the room. Son of a bitch.
The chest on the west side of the 41st floor just has a stupid A.G.W.S. accessory I’ll probably forget I ever picked up within ten minutes, so without further ado, the party returns to the 44th floor. Actually there’s plenty of further ado, if ado is another word for Gnosis. Sigh. I hate that elevator more than ever.
Via the now open door on the south end of the 44th floor, the party enters an area that looks like another large dock or hangar, and this area too is full of robots, though these are larger, more annoying versions of the wimpy things downstairs. Proceeding to the right along the catwalk and blowing up a truly unnecessary number of empty canisters nets the group a Chakra Shield, which prevents the wearer from having his or her ether points stolen. I’m not even going to look at it, but I’m sure the strategy guide thinks I should have had this skill extracted from this item at least an hour ago.
Get your feet in the stirrups, ladies!
While I was daydreaming about the fun garbage can fire I’m going to light with the strategy guide when this recap is over, KOS-MOS nearly runs right off the edge of the catwalk onto a large satellite dish below. Thank goodness this game never lets me do anything without a popup confirmation window. I back her up a step and prepare the party–Shion, CHAOS!!!, and KOS-MOS–for the boss that’s apparently sitting down there, waiting for them to leap down like they’re practicing parkour. Strangely, the path to the reactor requires jumping onto this object. Why in God’s name would this room be designed that way? I ask this like I haven’t spent hours upon hours of my life dealing with non-functional elevators, doors that are opened by buttons miles away, and shopping malls embedded in whales. What’s one more thing?
Anyway, the boss, named Proto Dora, flies in from the maw of darkness below, accompanied by two other robots. It looks like the robot that will be invented one day to replace gynecologists. Its new name is Clamps, because Proto Dora sounds like a Spanish-speaking MOMO who talks to animals. As Clamps waves its speculum-like appendages around and cautions Shion and KOS-MOS that “This is going to feel a little cold,” CHAOS!!! also warns them, “This is no ordinary force! Everyone, be careful!” Oh, like he would know.