This clinches it, doesn’t it? This is space, right? This was nothing like Oleander’s mind, but… it was so much more disconnected than that station in the desert. This didn’t feel like a collective unconscious, this was… different. This was more structured and linear than most projections, and the sheer scope was larger than anything he had seen put together. He pulls back his goggles almost reluctantly as his eyes wander vacantly back and forth. Wherever he was, and whatever was happening, he wasn’t in someone’s mind.
The worst part about the whole thing, and what really ruined the awesomeness of this potentially literally out-of-this-world space adventure were the voices. Always out of sight, always behind the next corner. He had tried to track down their origin, but they didn’t seem to really be coming from anywhere. He had spent all morning (actually, wait, do space cruisers even have mornings?) trying to find their source, but nothing seemed to be their focii. There was no dirty laundry, no hidden memories or even important objects. The whispers seemed to be more noticeable on less inhabited areas of the ship, but Raz was starting to wonder if coming up here was just a fluke. It felt as if they were always in the periphery, just outside of his reach. They weren’t intelligible, but they didn’t seem particularly happy.
If you wander up to the Observation Deck, you’ll find a very focused and confused ten year old, slowly turning in circles, apparently trying to take in all the majesty the cosmos has to offer at once. Every once in awhile, his head darts to the side, at the nothing down one end of the hall or the other.
Wildcard
I will take almost anything else you throw at me! Mess hall duty? Exploring another area of the ship? Dealing with the paklers? I can be reached at mrcheshire, or you could start whatever you’d like!
Razputin Aquato | Psychonauts
This clinches it, doesn’t it? This is space, right? This was nothing like Oleander’s mind, but… it was so much more disconnected than that station in the desert. This didn’t feel like a collective unconscious, this was… different. This was more structured and linear than most projections, and the sheer scope was larger than anything he had seen put together. He pulls back his goggles almost reluctantly as his eyes wander vacantly back and forth. Wherever he was, and whatever was happening, he wasn’t in someone’s mind.
The worst part about the whole thing, and what really ruined the awesomeness of this potentially literally out-of-this-world space adventure were the voices. Always out of sight, always behind the next corner. He had tried to track down their origin, but they didn’t seem to really be coming from anywhere. He had spent all morning (actually, wait, do space cruisers even have mornings?) trying to find their source, but nothing seemed to be their focii. There was no dirty laundry, no hidden memories or even important objects. The whispers seemed to be more noticeable on less inhabited areas of the ship, but Raz was starting to wonder if coming up here was just a fluke. It felt as if they were always in the periphery, just outside of his reach. They weren’t intelligible, but they didn’t seem particularly happy.
If you wander up to the Observation Deck, you’ll find a very focused and confused ten year old, slowly turning in circles, apparently trying to take in all the majesty the cosmos has to offer at once. Every once in awhile, his head darts to the side, at the nothing down one end of the hall or the other.
Wildcard
I will take
almostanything else you throw at me! Mess hall duty? Exploring another area of the ship? Dealing with the paklers? I can be reached at