You know...I like to think it's pretty common knowledge that there comes a time in everyone's lives when they finally begin to ask questions. The REAL questions. The ones that ask things like...who we are. Or I guess I should say, who are we really? Why we were put here on this Earth. What's the point of our tedious, monotonous, mundane weeks? And at the end of the day...do any of our decisions or actions even really matter in the grand scheme of things? Are we even really aware of what's going on around us when our entire livelihoods, our countries, our planet, our solar system, our REALITY is not even a speck, not even a FRAGMENT of the greater cosmic whole surrounding us?

Woah. Chill [insert name of current reader]. It's a little early for that kind of philosophical pontification don't you think? Who do you think you are, Kierkegaard? But yeah, all those things and more. All of that existential bullshit and other stuff that might immediately come to mind. And sometimes that time for questions may come more than once in your life too. You're forced to ask these tough questions when your beliefs are challenged. Or when you find yourself lost, physically and/or metaphorically. Or when you see no other possible options for the future that may lay ahead. Or when you just simply realize that the gas station bathroom you're currently stuck in is out of toilet paper. God help you.

In any case, over these past trying couple of weeks, I found myself doing exactly that. Asking questions. Technically, I've been doing this kind of soul searching intermittently since I found myself landed in this god-forsaken place. But it wasn't really til now that I was coming to terms with it all. That I really became aware of where I was. Beginning to contemplate what was and isn't around me. What was real and what wasn't. Who I even am and you know what. I think you get the gist of it. I gotta tell ya, at this point, I guess I still don't really even have an answer. Could one ever answer these things? Are there even answers to them? Correct or otherwise?

As I said before...I don't know. Maaaan, I don't know shit. All I really know, is that I don't know anything at all. Oh, I'm sorry, you say I'm trying too hard to sound profound? You say I sound like a liberal arts college student who just discovered Hume? Yeah, okay, I'll give you that you cheeky bastard. I mean, I guess I can say I've learned a couple things. Like how I learned after everything that's happened, that people are always watching you when you think they aren't. That every action you take is scrutinized by someone, even if no one's present to witness it but yourself. And I ain't talkin' about that Illuminati or New World Order shit.

Oh wait. Never mind. Actually I am. Stupid conspiratorial galaxy-spanning cabals.

Anyhoo, I also learned that I should have told the truth from the get-go, because as great as lying is, it only gets you so far. I mean, have you ever heard of that story about the Turkey and the Bull? I'll pretend you haven't. In it, a bull hits up a turkey pining for the sky, telling him he can fly if he eats his crap. The turkey, like a dumbass, believes him and nibbles on that ish. He then tries to fly to a branch, and lo and behold, he succeeds. Then he's like oh hey, this poop stuff's not half bad, and proceeds to gobble it down like Kobiyashi, getting higher and higher with each pile of poo. Then, as he finally gets to the top, drinking in the sunset with a merlot and charcuterie of poo, the turkey is suddenly and savagely murdered by a crazed hunter who's after his waddle.

...I think there was a moral somewhere in that story.

I mean, I could have sworn I was on to something there. But what? You can only infer so much from a story where poultry eats manure you know...

ANYWAYS-

I also learned after all my travels, sacrifices, and mistakes...I learned that I had gotten a Crooked Officer, an Alliance Admiral, a Quarian, and an Entire Sentient Race killed with my own two hands. Not specifically in that order. And not too shabby if I have to say so myself. I'm not entirely sure though that the gravity of the situation surrounding any of them still really hit me-

"AGH!"

"Didn't I tell you to pay attention when I'm talking to you Human?"

Had to admit, my cheek seared with pain as the person retracted the claw they had just used to rake my face. Probably looked like Martin Riggs at the end of Lethal Weapon 2 by now.

"Real tough huh?" I found myself immediately spitting back, ignoring the blood that was now welling around my eye. "Big man! Real big to be knocking around someone who can't even hit back! Heh. You fuckin' coward. Take off these restraints and I bet you wouldn't be so tough-"

I immediately flinched as he brought his hand up again. But instead of feeling another strike, I only heard him chuckle. And I could only feel a dark sense of foreboding as the course noise reached my ears. "-hehe...so you're one of those huh? Look, who are you trying to impress here? Take a good look around. It's just you and me friend. And while I'm flattered you'd want to put a show on for me, I've seen it too many times to count. It's gotten old." He leaned in close enough that I could now feel his breath on my face. "There's no reason for such a...ludicrous facade. I know that had to hurt. You can let a few tears fly if you want. I won't judge. I mean, I know my claws are pretty sharp. I don't file them often." He clacked his talons together as his yellow irises rapidly flit across my face. Then he leaned in closer. "Or on the other hand...I suppose I should give you some credit. You've lasted this long. Maybe you're just as tough as you're saying you are-"

Like the idiot I was, I decided to become a cliche and spit into his eye. One last act of defiance before what came next. Was it worth it as he hit me again? As half my face was now beginning to balloon up? Probably not. But it was nice to feel like I did something before I lost the ability to even entertain such a notion. The black tattoos that covered his face were as dark as the room around us, and now his demeanor came to match them as well. The Turian's otherwise alabaster face became decidedly grim, uncharacteristically serious as he reached for something behind his back.

"Hm. I guess we'll find out together then. He does want to see you himself...but you know, he never explicitly told me how pretty your face had to be."

And as usual, I couldn't help but run my mouth again. And the worst part is that I didn't even have anything to witty to say. Missed opportunities I tell you. There's always room for bad-ass one-liners in a situation like this. I mean, there's always room for bad-ass one liners but you know what I'm just rambling now.

"Wow, real scary. Man, I gotta say...get bent you two-bit, Vorcha cocksucker. That sounded like something from a Blasto Holo-vid. I mean dear lord, were you even trying? Was that supposed to scare me into talking? I hope you can do better than that. Because if that's all you got, then you can just kill me right now because-"

"Keep running your mouth," he suddenly spoke in a low tone. "I take it back. I've never actually had someone as talkative as you. It's kind of refreshing."

A chill went down my spine as a lull fell in the conversation.

"Oh hey! Fun fact. Did you know that threatening to pry open a Krogan's headplate makes them beg like a Red Sand addict fixing for a hit? Or that splintering a Salarian's cranial horns tends to give one the same result? Every alien has that one thing just loaded with sensitive nerve-endings I tell you. For Humans...I hear the body part most akin to those are your fingers. Those cuticles on your fingers to be exact." Like a sub-par Bond villain, he revealed a knife, god knows from where, and I couldn't say that I was able to mask my fear as I began to process the very last thing he said. "Hehe...as a fan, I'm sure you recognized that was a line from the last Blasto...but the funny thing is...I actually agree with the Rogue Councilor. I find what he said to be oh so very, very true. Or the first two in any case. To be honest, I've never had the pleasure to test that last part yet. Can you believe that? You Humans usually squeal before I even get that far. But for you...I guess you get to be my first. Want to find out how true those words are together?"

He now brandished the fifteen centimeter serrated blade like a child, moving it toward my cuffed hand with a facile smile and off-kilter jubilee. And then-

CUT TO BLACK.

Makes you wanna sigh. What a mess. Doesn't seem like it'll get any better than that for me. In fact, it looks like the end. Really. I mean, this situation is PRET-TY bad. Game over stuff right there. Probably where my story ends. If only I could start over and...oh. Wait a second. Maybe I can. Instead of showing you the horrifying conclusion that happens next...(ha, like anybody would want to see that)...how about I just reminisce of the hilarious hijinks that led to this. From the beginning. The story of how a crazed Turian came to bolt me down to a chair inside a dark room with not a single soul the wiser. And how, even if any of those souls were, there'd still not be one person willing to lift a finger to help. Brought it all on myself really but...I'm getting ahead of myself again. I guess I should probably take it from the top.

Now's a good a time as any to tell the story I suppose. A story I wanna call...

MASS EFFECTIVE: A HERO MADE!

Many.

Many.

Many Weeks Prior...

"Ungh."

My daily morning routine. Muttering, wincing as my consciousness began to wake, grimacing that I was cruelly being dragged away from my deep slumber. Ripped from the warmth of my covers. The last bastion of pleasure a man had before one's droll morning routine followed. The most awful feeling in the world really. As I awoke this time however, I found my eyes beginning to blink furiously, trying to adjust to the beams of light now assaulting them. Already, my morning had decided to take a shit all over the rest of my day. God did I hate when that happen. Sunlight coming through your window at just the right angle to start hitting your eyes. Awful.

I then immediately came to find that my mouth was dry, my nose stuffy, and I then lazily rubbed my face in a further attempt to now come to. Because something seemed off. And before long, my sight finally returned...only for it to make me to do a double take. I realized I was staring up. Staring straight up above me where a hue of dark violet plagued my vision, with just a tinge of orange in it, which told me that the sun was just rising. Awful. It was way too early to be getting up if the sun hadn't even risen yet. I then blinked a couple more times before I found myself wondering why the hell I could see the sky. And I then racked my brain to find a reason as to why I was even outside so goddamn early that the sun hadn't even come up yet. I knew I had gone to sleep relatively late after finishing an intense Friday night of passionately studying the properties of propylene glycols. But I had definitely not gone out last night, or at least I didn't remember going...though I think I would definitely remember if I had gotten wasted enough to end up like this.

Unless I was roofied.

But as attractive as I am, I don't exactly think I'm the target demographic for that. So what was I-

CRACK!

My blood-shot eyes cracked themselves open, and as every muscle in my body tensed, I felt a pang of what could only be described as sheer terror wrack my body as the sound reverberated in my head.

That was a gunshot. Someone just shot a fucking gun.

It took every effort I had not to look toward where the shot had just come from, yet seconds later, I find myself doing so anyway. I mean, if I was to die because I witnessed a crime, I at least want to witness said crime. And see the perp who would actually kill me. And I would have let out a sigh of relief not a second later had I not thought it would have been heard, as I simply found a wall of haphazardly stacked crates to my right instead. I then jerked myself up from where I was laying as I felt something warm soak my pants. And upon sitting up, imagine my surprise to find another man sitting across from me, arms held across his legs, head buried in between his knees, and utterly, deathly silent. In addition, a steady stream of liquid gold was coming from his pant leg, and pooling near mine.

OH SHIT-

As I stared at the homeless man cowering in front of me, I too felt the grip of fear as I grasped my situation. I had woken up downtown, in the middle of what I could only guess to be an deserted alley way, across from a dirty hobo who had just pissed himself, all the while being a witness to what I imagine was a brutal homicide. Slowly, I propped myself up and scooted away from the bum until I felt more crates stacked against my back. The glint of the still rising sun was now reflecting off the brilliant, white wall to my left. And using my impressive deductive reasoning, I realized I was next to what must be an esteemed establishment. The only place with marble like this would have to be a museum or fancy government building for sure.

My eyes then returned slowly to the fearsome bum across from me and I shivered once again. I admit, it was hard struggling to come up with my next plan of action as I was strangled by fear myself.

I could make a break for it. If it's a government building, help shouldn't be too far away with how loud that gunshot was.

But what if you're caught? Shouldn't you just play it safe? Who would even be up this early?

But what if sticking here gets you found by the killer?

Regardless of that last thought, I waited for what must have been an hour, probably only seconds, to be honest it was hard to tell, before I finally made the decision to roll onto my stomach and get to my knees. And before I was able to turn around, I could already feel the homeless man's eyes peering at my back.

"What are you doing!?" I heard him hiss as I slowly shifted my body back around to face him.

And now that I could clearly see his face, I found that the man had surprisingly little facial hair for a bum, and actually had a pretty nice five o' clock shadow going on. I could also see now that he was wearing some kind of funky outfit, something you'd probably find straight out a Macklemore video. Simply put, he was wearing some really weird looking overalls. And to top this all off, he was now staring at me with an intensity that matched my professors' stare whenever they spotted me sleeping in lecture. Real scary stuff I'll tell you hwat. And really looking at him now, he looked much less like the vagabond I had imagined.

After a prolonged stare-off, I managed to simply whisper, "Seeing if the coast is clear." Then, I slowly began to raise my head above the crates separating us from the alleyway.

"Oh god, you're going to get us killed," he muttered as he put his head back into a fetal position.

I froze as several more gunshots rang through the air, although I could tell they were much further away than the first.

And I started to wonder if I was now in Detroit.

Because the situation was almost surreal. I mean, it had to be a dream at this point. I had never been in such a-

And that's when I heard the growl. A weird...almost high pitched growl. A growl that I found all too familiar. A growl that I must have heard a hundred times before. A growl (if it could even be called that) that could only be described as...synthetic. My curiosity overcame my fear as I popped up for a millisecond and then back down behind our crates. And then my brain went kaput.

Okay. That can't be right.

I risked peeking up again and this time, intently eyed the figure that had its back turned to me. It certainly had two legs. So it was bipedal like a person. And it certainly had two arms. Like a two-armed person. And its posture seemed entirely normal. Like an entirely normal two-armed person. For all intents and purposes, it appeared to be just a regular old person. Except for the gleam coming from its metallic hide which indicated otherwise. That indicated it was something other than a regular old person. The tubes, antenna, and flashlight that one had for a face across from it only sharpened this discovery further.

No. Nononono. No. Oh my god. This is stupid. No.

The sky I originally thought to be dark purple had now become bright orange, with plumes of smoke rising in the distance, and my nostrils flared as they were suddenly attacked by an onslaught of ash and soot.

The first realization that really hit me was that we were most definitely not located in an alley way.

I popped back down as my head started to swim.

We were on some kind of elevated platform. That's what I knew I saw. I saw a grassy plain further ahead with a hill rolling over the horizon too. Fairly picturesque.

And yeah. We are definitely not in an alleyway. Most definitely not in Detroit either. Not in any city for that matter. And those were Geth. This is stupid. I've finally lost it.

I looked toward my partner who had obviously retreated back into his mind, that puddle of his unfortunately doing the opposite. And as I pressed my hands to my face to stop myself from becoming overwhelmed, I jumped again as I felt something cold pressed against my skin. Actually looking at my hands for the first time, and then the rest of my body for that matter, I realized why. What had felt like a comfortable tracksuit was actually armor. I found plates overlapping each other that covered the entirety of my chest, getting more and more intricate as I moved my eyes further down. A codpiece (attached to what I deemed a belt) covered my groin, and more armored plates masked the front of my legs, plastered atop of what looked to be like actual fabric. My arms seemed to be covered in similar fashion, as practically every inch of my body was covered in this armor's onyx sheen.

And yup. Ahhh, yup. Guess I'm Dicaprio now. Next stop Shutter Island. Oh, or Inception would be pretty cool. Why can't I have a cool mental breakdown fantasy like that?

Barring insanity, I then dropped that thought, and racked my brain again to go over my current scenario. I had woken up, and found myself lying down behind some horribly stacked crates.

Don't forget clad in armor.

A sorry shell of a man sat beside me, frightened out of his mind, although his state seemed sensible, as I could attribute his fear to the Geth just on the other side of said crates-

"Geth," I suddenly found myself whispering under my breath.

It felt weird to say the word out loud. Ludicrous even. As it should.

BAM BAM BAM BAM-

My mind was still fairly preoccupied with the concept that alien robots couldn't be more than several feet away when the next volley of gunshots assaulted my eardrums. My compatriot's eyes shot open as he heard the firefight happening beside us too. And he immediately looked to me, questioning what was happening. I returned a look that I imagined said, "I don't know what the fuck is going on dude, stop staring at me." But physically, I said nothing, going over all the possible scenarios that could explain this in my head.

Definitely not some kind of elaborate game show prank. The Geth and urine are too realistic to dismiss. God would I watch that show though. The production value would be off the charts- Focus. If this is a dream, it's hella lucid. Way too lucid. God damn. Ew. This ash in your mouth, the current sounds and the terror you're feeling all indicate otherwise too. Hm. Maybe I'm just in the middle of a hyper-realistic, hyper-competitive cosplay competition and I forgot-No.....I guess I could have some degenerative neural disease I didn't know about til just now and have finally gone insane. Or...this could all be real. Everything I had just lived could all have just been a dream and I've just awaken from a loooong coma-

The last thought had me reflexively chuckle at its stupidity. Then I frowned.

I'm definitely insane. Oh god. I need an orderly.

I then noticed a distinct lack of sound in the air, and concluded that the firefight had apparently already subsided.

Humor me here. If we accept for a moment that those were Geth...and that this could possibly even truly be the universe of Mass Effect...

And down the rabbit hole I went.

That single gunshot earlier...and with the number of Geth in the area...and that burning sky...and with this place in shambles...and the guy hiding behind the crates...oh my god. I'm definitely there.

Or rather, I was here, here on Eden Prime, the colony victim to the first Geth attack seen past the Perseus Veil in a hundred years.

This is Prologue: Find the Beacon. Eden Prime. Or...actually, I could just be on some random colony.

Or insane. There's always that. Probably that.

The only way to really determine any of that though would be the presence of Nihlus' body. Except for that last idea...but insanity really was just a cop out at this point. If you were insane, how would you even know?

When you started seeing killer robots.

In any case, I didn't see Nihlus when I had originally looked the first time, but if this truly was the mission I knew so dearly, Nihlus' corpse would be just on the other side of these crates. Surely. And the person who had shot him-

The man across from me now got up from his fetal position, realizing the firefight had ended too. While he was obviously debating whether to look and see which side had won, he and I immediately flung our arms over our heads as the sound of another gunshot reverberated through the air.

What the hell is going on?!

Author's Note:

Looking back at it, I thought it better to combine the foreword and the first chapter of the story. Makes it real easier to add chapters. But below is basically just a quick synopsis of the back story and reasoning for how and why this story came to be. Read it if you have any desire to gloss over an extremely pretentious and monotonous diatribe and have some time to burn.

But if you don't, or you just want to get to the (quote unquote) good stuff, just continue by clicking the next button up on the top left side of the page and strap yourself in...the story's just begun. Unfortunately.

Foreword

So after I finished Mass Effect 3 the first time...I was hurt. Just one of the many who were disenfranchised with the outcome of the trilogy. Although I was relatively late entering the series, when I first heard ME2 was coming out for the PS3, I became intrigued. I saw the commercials for when the game first came out on Xbox years before and the opportunity to get in on what seemed like a good story was too good to pass up. As I found out the first game was still an exclusive, and learned about Mass Effect's unique story porting, I decided to get caught up on all the information available in the first game from the ME Wiki. I chose my choices for the second, who my Shepard seduced in the first, who I killed, who I saved, who I chose in the end. Despite missing the first, I was fully informed on who was who and had my Commander up and ready for the Mass Effect Sequel.

Fast forward several years later to the ending of Mass Effect 3 which left me with an emptiness on how...bizarrely the series had ended, to say the least. Watching fanmade ME videos online, reading over Bioware forum debates, seeing the notorious IT float around, were all how I ended up coping with how it all ended. I didn't revisit the game until ME1 was finally ported to PlayStation, which was when I did my first real play through for the series. Beating Saren, the Collectors, and the Man, all over again was something really enjoyable. Left a warm feeling in my tummy. I had the EC and Citadel DC on hand this time around for ME3 too and although I was fairly unimpressed with the EC, the Citadel DLC eased my pain, giving us a glimpse of what Shepard had to look forward too had they survived, having real interactions with the companions you've come along to know and love. Probably the best fanfiction I've ever seen. And even better that it's actual canon. And as Shep took their last breath, after finally destroying the reapers at the end of the game, I slowly let the series drift to the back of the mind as I finally moved on. I mean, it was just a game right. Right?

Haha WRONG. Fast forward again to present day, on my current play through. I had not touched the trilogy again until recently, when my sister had knocked it and several other games off the shelf. Seeing the cover for ME2 evoked strong reactions, ones I didn't completely understand, and I realized...I had never done a perfect play through for Mass Effect. Everyone lives, Reapers destroyed, the galaxy left in the best state possible. And I realized it's what Shepard and the crew deserved. I loaded ME1 and begun what I deemed my final play through (for awhile at least), with a 100% completion rate. Paragon Shepard would leave no stone unturned, no conflict unresolved, helping everyone from street bums to alien ambassadors in their quest to resolve the galaxy's problems.

I got bummed as I finished the first game though, as I still had to deal with ME3's filthy endgame. I looked online in curiosity to fan made endings from long ago, back when the game first came out to see what could've been. I looked at things like ME Vindication and the reconstruction of ME choices and amount of detail gone into it. Replacing rachni with reaper elcor if they had been killed in the first game? A really cool mechanic that would have truly personalized one's play through and universe. Romancing Khalisah? A little less so. The alternate ending by Arkis, which expanded on Shepard's decision to reject the Catalina wine mixer and show what everyone wanted to see in the end: all races united in their fight against the reapers. The hilarious Mass Effect MS Paint adventures created by the now long gone Lankist.

And then I stumbled upon ME fan fiction. I read rewrites of the end, a lot of them damn good, and then I realized how much content was actually out there. I had always been wary of fan fiction, Mary Sue self inserts and erotic stories of side characters that got minutes of screen time getting freaky with it. But seeing all the material, good and bad, out here really got me. I didn't like the ending, and like so many others, I suddenly realized...why not create my own.

I really enjoyed a lot of the stories already out there: ME interstitium, Accidental Hero of the Galaxy, Stuck in a World of Fiction, and the list goes on and on. And I realized, it would be a lot of fun to do the same. The boring ramblings here are just to give a justification to the madness I plan on taking when I should be working on Finals. Not gonna lie, that might be another reason why I want to do this too. In fact, honest to god, this whole thing is just a procrastination attempt so I don't have to study. But regardless of motive, it's happening. This is a story of, however clichéd, a modern person being thrust into the world of Mass Effect. We'll explore a ME universe together, finding it a little different from usual, as ideas and plots from around the extranet are taken into it, to hopefully create a truly unique story with its own many twists and turns. I might be a little late to the party, but I still enjoy the Mass Effect series and the global community it's created. And to be honest, although this story is mostly for my own benefit, I'd still like to share it with the rest of you too.

This is the story of...Mass Effective: A Hero Made.