( tdm 12 )

[hownkai]

T E S T D R I V E

leavin’ on a jet plane "Don’t know when I’ll be back again." ABOARD THE MOIRA The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. Whether adjusting to space travel has been difficult or not, there is always something to be done. From working to leisure, the Moira offers a multitude of opportunities to get to know your crewmates a bit better. Exploration of the ship is highly encouraged. You may notice a slight change in the artificial gravity every once in awhile; however, more noticeable changes can be found in overall morale of those of the crew. ☄ on your own There are plenty of other communal areas on the ship to explore! Pick a place, and see where it takes you. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) The day begins normally. Or almost. The Moira has accidentally fallen along the trajectory of an asteroid barreling its way through space. While most things like this are not uncommon, and the ship is far from any potential danger of collision or risk of debris damaging the exterior, there is something particularly odd about this specific occurrence. The rock itself appears to give off a strange light that is both eerie and alive. Often, if looked at in just the right manner, it will shift colors; so, while one person sees one side of the spectrum, someone else could see something entirely different. At first, things continue on as they usually do aside from the glowing asteroid alongside the Moira, but as the hours go on, that does not seem to be the case. ☄ the hours are breathing resignedly beneath the sky the melancholy waters lie With a rather open view of stars and space, thanks to the skylight above, the pool in the rec area suddenly comes alive beneath the light of the asteroid filtering in. Perhaps it’s some natural response to the chemical composition of the water, or perhaps it’s magic. Yet, regardless of the explanation, those who happen to take a dip suddenly find themselves plagued by despair. The depression and melancholy are not subtle changes either; it slams into you with great force, like a punch to the gut. The longer you remain in the pool, the deeper it grows, like an all-consuming paranoia that settles into the back of your mind and causes your heart to grow heavy. These strong feelings will eventually fade if you choose to leave the pool and dry off, but as long as you remain damp from the pool, those emotions will continue to linger. Even after you’re completely dry, there will be no mistaking just how intensely you felt or why. There is no explanation and might not be. Would you dare a second swim to test whether or not it was a fluke? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ those who have crossed the eyes are not here, there are no eyes here The walls are shrinking in. Every room you step into feels much too small, like there isn’t enough room to even breathe. A crowded place becomes startlingly empty, and no matter how much you run, how much you explore, there is no one there to comfort you or answer your calls for help. Hallucinations run strong between the lulls of obscene loneliness or claustrophobia, and exposure to the glow of the asteroid is really the only thing to thank for that. You’re desperate to claw your way out of the ship—open the emergency hatch in the Cargo Bay, bust the glass of the Observation Deck. What’s worse is that it’s not just you. It’s catching, and the fear of being next is very real. It feels like you’re being watched, that everyone around you is looking and seeing everything you are. Or are not. The only way to make it stop is to admit that you’re afraid of being seen, but who, in the deep madness of the self, has the courage to ever admit the truth? ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) ☄ the sun in flight rage, rage against the dying of the light Something has drifted its way onto the Moira from the outside. Unlike the faint luminosity they give off, they suck up all the light around them, making them the only source to see by. From far away, they are just flitting balls of light, but if you get close enough to inspect them, they are mean. And have sharp, sharp teeth. Go poking, and they will bite you before trying to fly away while taking that only light source with them. The option to avoid them is quite easy if you’re not the curious sort, but without them around, it will be impossibly dark. As the asteroid moves on in the opposite direction of the Moira, these light creatures begin to dissolve and fade away with it. However, a word of caution: their bites glow. If you don’t manage to find the one that bit you and capture it between your hands, the bite will become a permanent glowing fixture of your body. ( These scenarios can be used as in-game canon. ) OUT OF CHARACTER INFO FAQ | LOCATIONS | RESERVES | APPLICATIONS | NAVIGATION For mature or graphic content, please label. For questions, please direct them to the FAQ. As always, be kind and have fun!

Comments

[lostsymmetry]

<Welcome to Domesticon warranty and recycling center #127: Keeping your Domesticon products efficient, so you don't have to be. This is the automated system administrator.>

[...and that prompt, he doesn't get to cancel. Whoops. There's a beat of hesitation, and the AI continues.]

...Never did get around to that, actually. Washington, huh? Cool. That's an Earth reference, right?

[hatesimprovising]

[ The next automated message gets a far more suspicious squint. This is definitely weird, and it definitely feels like some sort of malfunction on the AI's part. The hesitation that follows only points further in that direction, as far as Wash is concerned. ]

Yeah, it is.

[ But he's hardly interested in focusing on his name or the origins of it, sorry computer. His interest in you is far greater. ]

So you don't have a name, is that what you're saying? Don't people have a tendency to give names to sentient beings? Even ones they put in charge of a facility?

[ All of the universes he's met artificial intelligences from since arriving on the Moira seem to be that way, so if this one really doesn't have a name, it's the odd one out. And an odd one it truly does seem to be. ]

And what's going on with your automated messages? Don't you have any control over them?

[lostsymmetry]

[Wow, but look at that shiny diversion, Wash. Don't you want to chase it? No?

Well, fine. The machine is silent for a few moments. Then:]

<Domesticon guarantees its customers the highest quality of automated service. From cleaning bots to reception modules, your droids will treat you with the respect you deserve.>

...

That's my core programming. I can work on being charming in my free time-- and believe me, I'm glad to! But if it's a matter of function, you get what they paid for.

[Much careful, very neutral. Though the words skew a little more openly bewildered as the mainframe continues.]

And I'm not a house droid, or some... personal model. I can rattle off my serial code if you've got the clearance, but nicknames don't usually come with the job.

[Which isn't to say the mainframe hasn't thought about it for himself. But even when his facility was staffed, "naming the work computer" wasn't a human concern.]

[hatesimprovising]

[ So much squinting. There's just something about this that feels so off. ]

So you're programmed to spew repetitive, pre-recorded messages. That mean you're not supposed to talk with people like this? Why you were trying to stick with using those messages to communicate with me at first?

[ That's new. Wash is used to AIs that are supposed to think for themselves and are free to speak the way they wish to, even the ones that run facilities. The idea of restricting one like this, if he's guessing right, is... uncomfortable. The fact that it doesn't have a name really only works in favour of his theory. ]

What exactly are your main functions, in that case? Because if someone has an AI running a facility, they usually want it to do more than repeat some pre-programmed instructions.

[ Although, if the artificial intelligence from this 'Domesticon' is supposed to treat people with the respect they 'deserve', maybe it makes sense. Doesn't make it any less skeevy, though. That level of core programming comes close to eliminating the point of it being an artificial intelligence. ]

[lostsymmetry]

...Let's just say the authentic human tones you hear before you took a lot of practice.

[So very dry.]

<A Domesticon system administrator can handle all test protocol and internal maintenance for its facility. In the absence of a human superior, it can assist customers directly to provide services or call a droid suited to the task.>

Nothing too out of the ordinary. I log employee files, run systems upkeep. Call security where needed. Assessments are mostly automated, but I could take over reception when no one was at the desk.

[Definitely a could, there. And not just because of where he's stuck right now.]

did you want to use this as game canon? or do something different when the intro log goes up?

[hatesimprovising]

[ Huh. ]

Sounds like you're not advanced as the AIs I'm used to.

[ Not if it had to practice talking normally. What it really sounds like to him is that this AI might be more advanced than it's supposed to be. That it isn't supposed to be thinking for itself like this. Definitely some kind of malfunction, but not what he'd necessarily consider the bad kind. He's still uncertain, but he's a little less tense as he crouches in front of the monitor now, at least. ]

And like you weren't kept busy enough.

[ Could take over reception. Wash doesn't miss that, the way it sounds like it was something the AI would do when it had the chance because it wanted to. It wasn't part of its job.

This is... interesting, actually. He has a morbid curiosity here, and he hates it. ]

I'm good with canonizing it! We can carry it over there when the post goes up?

[lostsymmetry]

[The could has more to do with everyone dying; the mainframe's job included all levels of facility administration. Still, that misconception isn't one he'd correct even if he were aware of it.

And as for Wash's more vocal assessments...]

Hm. Well, I guess I wouldn't know.

[Being all not-advanced and everything. Sarcastic? Maybe a little. Though the administrator doesn't sound too bothered. Better simple than faulty, as evaluations go. And besides, he's curious. Not-Agent Washington. That means military hardware, almost certainly.]

What models have you run into?