<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/cCq51HJ.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Trishna Chaudhari<br/><strong>Location</strong>:  Cockpit<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Cargo pants, tank top, heavy boots.<br/><strong>Content</strong>: Swearing, Flying<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"I don't care what your analysis says!"  Trish yelled as she stared at a non-descript bulkhead just aft of the cockpit.  "We are not venting our atmosphere into space!  I told you we had mis-calibrated!  Run a damn diagnostic if you can't even tell the difference between the internal ventilation and a catastrophe!"  Her voice became continually more high-pitched as she yelled at her Geist.  Finally she let out an annoyed huff and turned to head forward to the cockpit.<br/><br/>"I'm Hinter, I calculate with 92.1% probability that we're all going to fucking die."  She muttered under her breath to no response from her Geist.  A wall of text ran up one side of her vision as Hinter went through various diagnostic programs to correct the error, occasionally interrupted by a small red flash and a beep as an error was found.  "I knew I should have double checked that cheap-ass compiler."  She added.<br/><br/>Trish slid over the arm of the pilot's seat and flicked a switch on the console in front of her.  Loud music, PanOceanian Synth Pop, began to blare as her eyes sudden dilated and unfocused.  She leaned back with her arms on the armrests and her hands nowhere near the controls as the galaxy suddenly swirled in her mind.  Analog controls were so last century, VR piped directly to the brain was the right way to do things.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>At 2018-08-06 17:54:25, PerpetuallyAnnoyedCleric (uid: 61108) rolls: 2d20 Result: 22<br/>One Success