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spherememing2018-11-19 09:14 pm
sphererpmod) wrote in spherememing2018-11-19 09:14 pm
Entry tags:
001. Test Drive Meme.
TDM
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The Council is well aware of how hard it is to get used to that whole
The people there are happy to see new people, that much is evident. People who one doesn’t know are greeted with smiles for the large part, and questions are eagerly answered, even if there is a slight ‘no one really knows’ vagueness to them. For the most part, of course. No city is ever a Utopia, and there are those who give newly arrived people flat looks, and answer questions with short and curt monotoned responses.
There are conversations happening at some parts of the table that aren’t meant for you to hear; they’re just whispered snippets of something about ‘Cruz doesn’t know what she wants.’ Or ‘Tearing is keeping it all under wraps of course, because that’s what she does.’ More common are grumbled complaints about ‘that bastard Tinder won’t stop just because…’ When they notice someone listening, they definitely glare at the listener. But whatever else, and however many secrets they may be keeping from the newcomers, the people complaining seem honest about it.
There’s a huge food table on one side that’s completely loaded with everything one could want. Turkey, and all of the fixings, including vegetarian and vegan options for those who would require them. (Though, someone leans over to mention, “the meat’s not really an animal anyway.”) The food is definitely sort of a potluck, given the variety of types of food in various sorts of serving dishes and states of presentation. Some of the foods include some weird stuff that looks terrible but is delicious. Probably. There are foods thee colors the likes of which only would be found on Earth if someone added an insane amount of food color to them.
Do try the grey stuff though. It’s delicious, ask the dishes. The blue milk? Less so.
However, food isn’t the only thing at the meeting. On the opposite side from the food, there are smaller tables set up with people sitting behind them. In front of the tables are homemade brightly colored signs that advertise things like jobs and clubs. The people and interests here in The Sphere are hugely varied and people are just so earnest to tell newcomers about them. They’re earnest to the point where they may just actually reach out and grab a person in order to force them to stop and to listen to whatever spiel they happen to be working on. Booths that are in attendance for jobs include: Agriculture: “help grow the food that feeds us all! Farming is life!”, The library: “No skill needed! We’ll teach you what you need to know!” The school system: “Teachers wanted! Education is the right of everyone!” Maintenance: “Help keep the domes clean!” As well as various restaurant booths looking for help for both servers and chefs.
For the hobbies involved they are even more varied. Book club: “we live in a multiverse, let’s read the books from it! With wine!” Garden club: “we want to grow stuff on our terms!” Sprinkled among are various skill learning clubs, among them: woodworking club, smithing, robotics, technology, first aid. It seems that despite the fact that no one is required to work in the City, people are still offering skills as needed.
As the night progresses, music starts, and there’s dancing and more adult fare. Liquor is broken out, of various sources from various worlds, including some that offer the Sphere’s own label on them. If discrete enough inquiries are made, a passcode to the Black Market hidden behind some of the stalls is offered. The entrance is hidden enough that someone needs to be looking for it, and there is a rather large bouncer guarding the door and asking for the proper passcode. The passcode of the day happens to be turnips.
Inside the black market is large, but much more dimly lit than the regular market dome that the welcome party was held inside of. There are various pockets of people clustered under bright neon lights. The lights, someone confides to you, are code for what they’re offering. And nearly everything is on offer if a person has the ability to make a trade. Things from home, character skills and even favors tend to be the currency here, but watch out: the hawkers within are shrewd and sharp. If they make a deal with someone, it’s nearly always going to favor them. Eventually.
There’s also a large and loud party happening inside. Think of a rave with a large amount of people who happened to be a bit out of their minds. Drugs aren’t given freely here, they’re too valuable, but should someone want to figure out what they’re rolling on, eventually someone will ask or offer. The drug that they are currently using is called ‘self’ and it’s something that affects your character in an intensely personal way. For some, it’s an experience like your favorite cocktail mixed with a vicodin, and for others it’s just like being drunk. For still more people, it’s like ecstasy without the side effects.
The drug has no physically addicting properties.
For anyone within the architecture dome, the library dome, the sunlight rec dome and any personal dome that people chose, around midnight people will have a curiously tired sensation. They just need to rest their eyes for a moment, or some may fall asleep for longer. No matter the length of time that the character is out, the nightmare infects them, and when they wake they will be filled with a curious but urgent sensation.
They have lost something. The loss can be a physical object, an emotion, a memory, a person or perhaps a sense of self. If the lost person is currently present in the game, they will be unable to be seen by the character who is experiencing the waking nightmare. Urgency will grip the character, because the longer the sensation goes on for, the worse it becomes. Characters can search and scrounge for their loss everywhere, but until the nightmare is over, they will not find whatever it is. Even if it is themselves. Instead, they may be frantic, angry, or just play old scared to death. They need to find this at whatever cost. Where they may find it is something that their own brains will settle on, but of course until the nightmare is over, they will not be able to.
The nightmare ends with either the character falling into a normal, restful sleep naturally or through some other means (someone might mention the infirmary has sedation medication just for the is purpose, or that there’s always a brick) or when they are woken with the intervention of someone else. The intervention of someone else is entirely up to you, and can come from a player character or a NPC, depending on how the player is feeling with the thread. By intervention we mean someone who is able to talk the person out of the nightmare, or to slap or shake them out, or to use some sort of trick that shows them that they are indeed inside of a nightmare. The knowledge that someone is affected by a nightmare must come from an external source, and should come from a character that your character would trust. After all, would you believe someone who told you that you were in a nightmare if you didn’t know that? That said, the best way to deal with waking someone is to remove them from the affected domes. Too bad you don’t know which domes are affected.
The Council hopes that you enjoyed the party the other night, because now it’s time to put out the call for volunteers to come in and help with replenishing the city’s stores from the fields and orchards in the agricultural domes. Your friend neighborhood councillor in charge, Annie Cruz has sent out a message that volunteers who come in to help out will be given payment in the form of lunch and beer and wine.
The jobs involved are varied, and involve harvesting crops such as corn, picking apples or grapes and handing out water or the boxed lunches provided. People will be assigned an area and given a bucket or basket in order to put the fruits of their labor inside of. Either way, there’s a festive atmosphere, and most people who have been there longer than your character seem to be old hat at this.
There’s even a large tub of grapes for people to smash with their feet (“but for fuck’s sake make sure they’re clean first!”). If asked about it, someone will explain that the city makes its own wine and brews its own beer every season! A good chunk of the things picked, you are told slyly, will probably end up drunk rather than eaten, “once the off the top happens.” If asked to explain it, a character will just touch their nose slyly and not say any more. It’s also explained that the grapes crushed with people’s feet don’t actually end up in the general bottles of wine: they’re not savages here!
So, jump in and help with something, or sit down and have lunch and just get to know the people around you with a glass of wine or beer. You’re all here for the foreseeable future, might as well!
In the Sphere, the network is neural, and accessed via touching the glowing golden circle behind your character’s ear. They can identify themselves with a screen name if you so desire, but messages should be one of three ways or a combination of them. 1. Audio. Your character thinks audible words onto the network. 2. Writing: Your character thinks text into the network. 3. Video. Your character projects a broadcast of a video of themselves onto the network. Replies are determined by the player.
The network needs to be accessed by choice, so character broadcasts are not automatically beamed directly into people’s heads. The Sphere isn’t that rude.
Private messages are allowed by pressing and holding and pressing and holding again as you picture the person in your mind. This can be an image or a name, err more on the side of things being more accessible than less.
This can be meeting a possible roommate or dorm mate (if one is choosing to go that route), the use of a communal kitchen, waking up and dealing with the things that you were just told about the City, yelling at the sphere, or anything else that your little heart desires. Go nuts.
OOC note: if you feel that something requires an NPC interaction, please go to here and reply with a link and a brief summary of why you need it and the mod will try and be accomodating.
Rhys the Company Man | Borderlands
Slowly, Rhys was getting used to the strange place. Nothing seemed too sinister, and the atmosphere felt more relaxed than that of Pandora. He had yet to be attacked by anyone or anything. That was a plus, right?
He's milling around the meeting area, a plate of food in his robotic hand, a soft golden glow coming from his left eye as he scans the room. He's not connected to the Echonet here, but his internal server is still somewhat useful. The robotics club draws his eye. That was something familiar. He'd built his new cybernetics, after all. And coding was like a second language to him. Without watching where he's going, he makes a beeline for the booth, paying no attention to anyone he has to elbow past.
Nightmare
It's missing. He knows it's missing. He doesn't have to check his pocket to know, but he checks it all the same. In the middle of the walkway, he stops to pat himself down, a frown drawing down the corners of his lips.
"Oh, come on!" he cries, exasperated, as he finishes checking every single pocket. "There's no way I lost it, I can't...lose it!" Rhys looks down to scan the floor, widening his stance so that no one accidentally steps on his lost item.
Wildcard
[Go for it!]
Nightmare
"Okay, take it easy. What did you lose? Maybe I can give you a hand in finding it."
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The AI trapped inside is, anyways, he thinks to himself.
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"When did you last have it?"
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Instead of looking for this lost item, though, he watching Rhys' face, sympathetic. When he speaks, his voice is low, calming, and gentle. "Hey, take it easy. We'll find it, but the more frantic you are, the harder that's going to be."
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"If someone else finds it, this entire...underocean thing will be in a ton of trouble. I can't really calm down until I've got it back in my possession. Got it?"
He does feel a little bad for snapping, so he adds quietly, "and...thanks. For stopping to help."
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He was curious how a murderous psycho came to be trapped in a mechanical iris, but that was a discussion for a time after it was found. Action now, information later. "When did you last see it? Think carefully."
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"It was...earlier. I was resting in my room and I took it out," he starts explaining. "It seems kind of silly, but I like to talk through my thoughts to it. Anyways, I'm absolutely sure I put it back."
Frantically, he starts rifling through his pockets, pulling them inside-out, and finding nothing. Of course, he finds nothing. This is his nightmare.
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He held up his hands, as one would when approaching a skittish animal, and meet Rhys' gaze earnestly. "Do you mind if I have a look?"
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At Aaron's request, Rhys raises a brow. "I...just turned them out, but if you think you'll have better luck, go ahead." He lifts his arms, feeling rather awkward about having another person digging through his trouser pockets. And he was sure it'd be for nothing.
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"Okay, sorry about this," and he reaches into that pocket, pulling out a small, blue-tinted disk that...might have been what Rhys was talking about? "What is this...?"
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"How...That wasn't in there before. It was missing." He reaches out to take it. "Why couldn't I feel it in there? Or see it?"
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welcome
So he looks down at whoever bumped into him and growls softly.
"Watch where you bloody step." His accent is posh with soft R's and pronounced vowels, akin to a nobleman's, and yet his words as harsh as that.
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"I was watching where I was going. Maybe if you weren't standing in everyone's...way...um..." he trails off as he notices the guy's distinctly nonhuman features. A tail? Horns? He looked like something out of a Bunkers and Badasses campaign. In fact, Rhys is around eighty percent sure he'd thrown a creature like this at Vaughn and the girls when they'd played in Fiona's caravan.
"I just...I saw the robotics table over there, and couldn't help myself." He clears his throat and tries for a friendlier tone. "One-track mind, y'know~"
He knows he's outmatched if dragon man decides to get violent, but he still drops his flesh hand to the handle of his stun baton.
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"Given the crowd, everyone is in your way." Though Sidurgu tries to convey with his grumpy, irritated tone that he doesn't appreciate being the one who got pushed-- or attempted to get pushed.
Of all the people around, why him?
"Yet you chose me to attempt to push."
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Clearly, this guy isn't gonna just let it go. Rhys doubts his elbow did any actual damage. It's not like he was shoving hard past anyone, he was simply nudging others out of his way.
"You aren't hurt, so what's your problem?"
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Sidurgu grumbles deep in his throat, though he sounds less like a dragon, and more like a large, chagrined man irritated at anything and everything, and is looking for an outlet for such anger. Which he definitely is.
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"Not my fault you got in the way of my elbow." Ah, there's that old Hyperion sneer. That same air of better-than-you he'd thrown at his former coworkers. "Do you even know who I am?"
(ooc: If Sid wants to fight, go for it. Rhys needs a good kick in the pants here and there. :3)
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Indeed, his words more match pompous merchants of the Jeweled Crozier.
Sidurgu doesn't even give the Hyur the courtesy of being handled by the front of his shirt. No, he's being grabbed by the back of his clothing, scruffed like an unruly kitten.
"Say that again in this situation, I bloody dare you."
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"H-hey! Put me down! Let go!" He flails in the other's grasp, arms too short for his fists to connect with the guy's face. Maybe, if he ever makes it back to Pandora, he'll ask Vaughn or Athena for combat training. "Is this really how you treat important people?!"
Never mind the fact he isn't making the best first impression at the moment...
i apologize for sid's everything
This feels much like bullying a small animal now. Rather... sad, honestly. Sidurgu cant even sate his need for violence on this person, but he can put the fear of the gods in him, cant he? Rather, the fear of dark knights, for the gods certainly don't care, even if they would be able to hear anyone in this forsaken realm.
And he leans over, his other hand reaching back to grasp the hilt of his greatsword, an obvious threat. One he wont make good on, but no one needs to know that.
"From where I come? I break them, for the important people are almost always those who prey on others." Then he tilts his head, teeth bared in a wide sneer. "And you, throwing around that importance, perhaps I shall do the same."
omg no he's great!
With swords.
Who can very clearly break him easily.
He stops struggling, raising both hands in a display of surrender. "I-I'm not--No, I don't prey on people!" Is this guy really about to kill him over an accident? Is this really how his story is going to end?
It's not, not if Rhys gets a say in it. He's survived bandits, a warlord, various Pandoran fauna, psychos, more bandits, a backstabbing rival, a vault monster, and Handsome Jack hi--well, an AI based on Handsome Jack. Same thing, right?
Right.
"L-look, dude, I'm sorry I elbowed you. Like I said, wasn't really paying attention, was kinda super focused on my goal. Just...let me go, we'll go our separate ways, and we can forget this whole thing ever happened." He chuckles nervously, flashing a hopeful smile.
fuckin bless, he's a menace
After one last growl in his face, the Au Ra lets him go-- more accurately, he drops the man by releasing his clothing from the height he'd yanked the Hyur at. Whether or not the man lands on his own two feet like a Miqo'te, or simply has a rather intimate meeting with the ground, Sidurgu could not care less.
"But mayhap this has taught you when and how to stay your tongue."
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"Jeez, you couldn't at least give a guy some warning?" he snaps as he straightens his clothing out.
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