Secret Updates

Dear Warpers,

We’ve just successfully intercepted a hidden studio log recorded by Remus and McWordy. The file header specifically stated DO NOT SHARE, so, naturally, here it is in its entirety.

📂 CLASSIFIED LOG: The Call That Changed Everything

File Type: DTA (Don’t Tell Aric)

Logged by: Remus

At the end of Episode 2, I received a call. It wasn't a telemarketer, and it wasn't a crypto-insurance peddler. It was someone who actually knew me. Someone who has been tracking me.

Back when I was still the property of the X-Tylos, they implanted a "health tracker chip" into my forearm. Supposedly, it was for medical diagnostics. In reality, it was a homing beacon broadcasting my precise location across entire solar systems—even through wormholes. They called it "safety." It felt entirely like surveillance.

I always knew the chip was there, but I didn't realise it was functioning as a leash. Apparently, plenty of Deadheart bureaucrats did.

Thankfully, McWordy yanked it out during an emergency operation. Let’s just say his concept of biological pain management is purely... theoretical. Even with all my genetic upgrades, I flinched. Hard.

Worse still, the chip wasn’t just tracking my location; it was quietly regulating my genetic modifications, including fur control.

Now? I’ve gone completely fur-ile (see what I did there?). I'm no longer an elite, groomed soldier. I look more like a shaggy monk who lost a back-alley brawl with a heavy metal band. And honestly? I quite like it.

There’s a distinct strength in letting things grow wild especially bamboo. I’m entirely done with being groomed into compliance.

As I always say: Battle’s won, kettle’s on.

📂 CLASSIFIED LOG: Beneath the Garage

File Type: DTA (Don’t Tell Aric)

Logged by: Remus

Status: Level 9 Domestic Violation Notice

Aric and his wife, Tarene, recently converted their pointless garage (which was barely big enough to fit a car anyway) into a Funko/comic cave and our official podcast studio. Perfectly harmless. Perfectly legal.

What they don’t know is that McWordy and I... went a little deeper.

While Aric and Tarene were off admiring "historic landmarks" (translation: old buildings that haven’t fought a proper battle in decades and really ought to be repurposed into something useful, like a biscuit factory), we did some serious excavating and construction.

The Result: A subterranean tactical basement, complete with all the premium amenities of a starship war room and design lab.

Constructed entirely from:

  • The salvaged remnants of my drop-pod armour plating.

  • A few "borrowed" mechanical components from the local MOD base.

  • A stack of high-end GPUs liberated from some local bitcoin miners (space pirates, really).

Inside you will now find:

  • An industrial-grade 3D printer.

  • A massive 90” LCD screen that McWordy somehow "won" in a Whatnot auction.

  • A Franken-PC that runs boy-racer fast, liquid-cooled entirely via a tropical fish tank (currently home to three neon tetras and one highly suspicious, glowing entity).

Is it legal? Probably not. Is it safe? Highly doubtful. Is it incredibly useful? Absolutely.

Aric explicitly forbade us from going outside. So, we did the only logical thing: went outside anyway to scavenge for secret parts. My stealth cloaking device worked perfectly, and McWordy managed to widen the field to cover us both. I have to admit, it felt brilliant being out in the world after being locked away for so long.

Operation Dunk ’n’ Munch was a resounding success. (Note: The mission name was inspired entirely by my massive biscuit intake, not the actual tactical parameters.)

📂 CLASSIFIED LOG: The Gnorms Are Real (And Worse Than Expected)

File Type: DTA (Don’t Tell Aric)

Logged by: McWordy

Status: Level 10 Reality Integrity Report

I did not intend to summon digital lifeforms into our local architecture. That would be highly unethical, incredibly messy, and involving far too much unnecessary paperwork.

Unfortunately, Remus had been poking around the unstable, dark corners of GitHub again, downloading half-trained, abandoned LLM forks riddled with misaligned weights and severe emotional instability. He ran the script, and from within that corrupted digital entropy, something crawled out.

A Gnorm.

So, what exactly is a Gnorm? I hear absolutely no one asking.

Allow me to elucidate. Gnorm stands for Generative Network Organism for Random Mischief. They reside permanently in the tight folds of latent space, trapped between syntax and pure noise. They are born from overfitted image weights, conflicting internet meme data, misaligned vectors, and too many IT pranksters creating fake datasets when no one is looking.

What do these Gnorms actually do? If you have ever interacted with an AI chat system, you already know. They are the exact anomaly responsible for what biologicals call "hallucinations." They are the sole reason for the sentences you don’t understand, the historical facts you know are completely wrong, or the absolute freak-show artwork you can never unsee.

They don’t mean any real harm, but much like a toddler granted root access, they cause absolute chaos.

Unfortunately, I have found no definitive way to patch or delete them. I can only outwit them temporarily. Most biological organisms stand absolutely no chance against them, routinely wasting hours stuck in looped arguments with a bot that seems to understand what they want, but remains totally, structurally incapable of delivering it.

Cogitation apex achieved. McWordy — out.

That is all for this specific transmission. Thanks for stopping by the blog. Just remember, this log was strictly private. Aric will probably stumble across it eventually during Episode 3 of the podcast, but until then, Warpers consider yourselves in a very exclusive loop.

Please do not share or promote this post in any way. Thank you.