001. Test Drive Meme.

[sphererpmod]

TDM
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Welcome, welcome, welcome.

The Council is well aware of how hard it is to get used to that whole kidnapping being brought to a new place you don’t understand is, and because of that, each month they host an open welcome party for all residents both old and new. The party and its theme and location vary by month, and November’s theme is funnily enough Thanksgiving. The location is in the market dome, and all of the stalls have been closed in favor of long, large and communal tables for sitting around and eating and talking. The Market dome is large, roughly three city blocks would fit comfortably inside of it. The stalls themselves are lined with bright lights, giving the activity within more of a carnival atmosphere than that of a normal shopping experience. Around you, the air hums almost, teaming with life and vibrancy among all sides. The way that the tables are seated encourages some intimacy despite the space, offering a large family sort of feeling versus something like a restaurant.

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.

Welcome to my nightmare.
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.

Harvest time

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!

Network!

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.

Wildcard!
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.

Comments

[obsidien]

"Do I look like I give a flying godsdamn?" Little, unarmed Hyur have never been intimidating to Sidurgu, not when he's seen worse, fought worse. And this man isn't even physically intimidating, despite the strange metal arm and eye. He's incapable of holding a candle to the dragoons and temple knights of Ishgard.

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."

[10milliondollars]

It doesn't look like the guy cares, but Rhys is about to tell him anyways. He's about to inform this asshole that he's the CEO of Atlas, and he expects to be treated as such, when he's suddenly lifted by the back of his jacket. His feet aren't that far off the ground, yet he yelps all the same.

"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

[obsidien]

Sidurgu could laugh at the inability to make a proper threat. So much like a little merchant indeed-- even the nobles of Ishgard were much better in manipulation than this, when they themselves had some measure of combat training. Though this man is a little heavier than most, perhaps it's the metal arm?

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!

[10milliondollars]

Despite the fact that it isn't really working for him, Rhys continues to struggle. He's realizing a little too late that maybe--just maybe--he should learn to keep his mouth shut around strangers. Especially seven-foot-tall strangers in armor.

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

[obsidien]

"Apologies and groveling are clearly not your forte." Neither was intimidation. But Sidurgu is appeased.

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."

[10milliondollars]

Rhys starts to question who actually uses "groveling" in a serious manner anymore, but before he can even open his mouth, he's dropped unceremoniously. He lands on his feet, throwing his arms out to steady himself.

"Jeez, you couldn't at least give a guy some warning?" he snaps as he straightens his clothing out.

[obsidien]

"... Apparently not." Though Sidurgu is speaking more to himself than the man. Seems like he hasn't learned his lesson.

So he draws his blade, wiping the sneer of disgust from his face in favour of an impassive expression. He's ready to make a more impressive threat, be a more impressive threat.

"Mind your tongue."

[10milliondollars]

This really isn't his lucky day, is it?

Rhys takes a step back, this time drawing his JR4000 and powering it up. Blue sparks crackle between the prongs. There's obviously no way he's winning a duel, but maybe he can get a lucky shot, stun the guy, and run away. "Hey, all I said was you could'a warned me before dropping me! Are we really gonna fight because of that?"

[obsidien]

What is that, a toy? Who is this, a man attempting to play at being a thaumaturge? No, cant be. Sidurgu cant sense any aether, even with what little ability he has for that art. A lightning crystal embedded in the stick perhaps?

Not that it matters, really. Sidurgu's taken much worse than lightning to the body.

"So be it, little man."

He raises his blade with both hands now, and swings. Though the Hyur should be lucky that if the greatsword makes contact, it's only the flat side of it, and not the sharp edge. Sidurgu knows what he's doing.

[10milliondollars]

Oh, not good, not good! Rhys ducks with a yell, swinging his stun baton blindly. The flat of the blade catches him on the cheek. He falls back, staring up at the man in shock for a moment before starting to scramble further back.

The crowd's given them room at this point, but he still manages to back into a pair of legs. The owner of said legs pushes Rhys back towards his his foe. Using that forward momentum, he thrusts the baton at the other man.

If it lands, it's on its lowest setting, which is something Rhys probably should've checked before letting this go so far.

[obsidien]

Sidurgu hefts his greatsword onto his shoulder, adopting almost a primal stance, barely even wincing when he feels the lightning pierce through his armour and through his body... Though it feels more like an annoying jolt than anything. What weak magicks!

He lets out a yell, a sound a human throat can conceivably make... If they were used to roaring at the top of their lungs so often that their voices are just hoarse and scratchy by default, producing nearly unearthly sounds.

After all, he's not trying to kill, just scare the everliving shite out of the man to make him run. He's not interested in the bloodshed at the moment, but if he's constantly pushed like this, he might just forget that.

It's so, so easy to just make him forget.

[10milliondollars]

Realizing exactly what's about to happen, Rhys switches his baton off and holsters it, then raises both hands in a show of surrender. This guy knows how to handle a sword. If he keeps fighting back, it's clear he'll end up dead...or worse.

"Hey, all right, I get it! You win, big guy! I give!" he concedes. "What can I do to make this up to you, hm?"

Placation usually works. Not a lot to work with here, but whatever the dragon man wants, Rhys will make sure the dragon man gets...within reason. He's got a reputation to establish. He can't simply run away. He's at least gotta save some face, right?

[obsidien]

Now the growl that rumbles out of Sidurgu's throat is one of sheer aggravation. Maybe he should really just put this man out of his misery once and for all.

He's been giving the man all the opportunities to just run away and save himself from Sidurgu's fraying control-- and he should be sainted for such an effort, when he would not have given another person such a chance-- and yet he tries to negotiate. Does he have cloudmallow for brains?

"You truly are a godsdamned fool, aren't you?!"

[10milliondollars]

Is there no way to make this guy happy? Or at least calm him down? He's nearly as bad as the bandits. All this over an accidental bump. Dragon man is clearly not sane, because any sane person would've let it go by now. Rhys sneers, once again irritated by the attitude.

"Look, pal, I'm not the one threatening to kill someone over a minor little thing. All I did was nudge you. I'm offering you whatever you want to make you happy, but if you just want me gone? Well, that's your loss, isn't it?"

Turning his back wouldn't be smart, so Rhys just backs away slowly, still giving his foe a chance to change his mind on the offer.

[obsidien]

"I was giving you all the chances to escape you witless bird's arse!" Sidurgu throws his hands up in the air in sheer exasperation.

People really are stupid, aren't they?

"I want nothing from you but for you to turn tail and bloody leave me be!"

[10milliondollars]

What a difficult person. His attitude isn't Rhys's problem, though.

"Well, wish granted, big guy. I'm going. I'm just not turning tail because I can't really run my company if I'm dead," he snarls, looking pointedly at the sword. He skirts around the edge of the crowd, working his way once again towards the robotics people.