hownkai: (Default)
Cúrre ([personal profile] hownkai) wrote in [community profile] thisavrou_ooc2016-07-08 05:07 pm
Entry tags:

( tdm 12 )

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!
thesilence: (??!?)

[personal profile] thesilence 2016-08-05 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
[Geo backs up, sets her hands on her hips to observe the art the way she thinks the fancy people would've done in museums. She even dramatically twirls an invisible mustache.

But where is the space person going? Are they holding onto something, flying away with it, or are they leashed to something, forever bound to it?

Lips purse to stifle her smile, stifle the amusing thought crossing her head. It's silly, probably not at all what he's going for, but still.

She picks up the pencil and his sketch pad... and is promptly distracted by it. The intention had been to write an encouraging note. Instead, pages upon pages of art swirl her vision. She hadn't seen art like this in a long time. Sure, they'd made hideouts and bases of museums, but the paintings had been moved to the vaults, even the replicas. The ones that could afford to be burned for warmth or for cooking purposes had been destroyed carefully, thoughtfully, to ensure it would last them enough time.

This was real art, the kind people used to do in their spare time. She remembered those people from her childhood. Not so many existed now.

And then she stops.

She knew those buildings. It's almost too much.

Geo holds up the sketchpad to point at the Space Needle, with a clean finger, of course. Her eyes and brows are alight with puzzlement, surprise, and incredulity.]
Edited 2016-08-05 05:00 (UTC)
serialtagger: (you can follow them to hell;)

[personal profile] serialtagger 2016-08-07 07:35 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Delsin can't help grinning as he catches that mustache twirl. ] Yup, real serious art. [ No. No it isn't.

He watches her pick up the pencil and sketch pad while he sets out to put the third layer on, unaware how distracted she is by it. ]
If you wanna write something down, just pick a new page.

[ And he keeps working. The shape the new stencil shows might resemble a jellyfish, if anything, but then he's turning around, and she's holding up one of his drawings and he just... pauses. ] Yeah, that's the Space Needle.

[ He's not sure why she's so worked up, but it seems serious, so he figures completing this thing can wait. Not that that makes him any more sure for how to approach the situation but, well, no time like the present. Maybe start at the top? ] You been to Seattle?
thesilence: (waves)

[personal profile] thesilence 2016-08-07 09:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[She nods, only to flip rapidly to a blank page.

Pencil to paper, she starts sketching. It's admittedly very amateurish, but it still has the shape of the Space Needle. But pieces are missing. She starts to draw in the overgrown ivy that has taken over the base. She scribbles all over it a light grey tint.

Two figures stand at the top. It's an approximation of the mercenaries guarding the tower, and by extension, Seattle. Ropes hang off the edges, infinite, almost, were it not for the platforms she now draws jutting out.

She furiously begins to write next to her drawing.]


Space Needle. Military Base.

Seattle. Safe Zone. Military run. 15 water tanks for entrance. 35 for protection. 65 to live. Toll-based. War lords and smugglers known to live in Seattle. Squatters not tolerated.

Rebels eliminated.


[This time, she doesn't hold it up. She simply hands it over to him, a little self-conscious of everything she wrote. It's prime information, but it's not much of a secret either. The military running Seattle were hard to enforce their laws. Seattle had become one of the most exclusive cities, the antithesis to San Francisco, yet similar in so many ways.

They were not welcome here.]
serialtagger: (the heights that I once loved;)

[personal profile] serialtagger 2016-08-09 08:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Okay, yeah, this seems really urgent. He abandons the work and instead stands by her to watch her drawing and writing. What she ends up with is... pretty fucking bleak, actually. He looks the sketch over, frowning, struggling to quite imagine what it's like, but the words hit harder. ]

Military? [ Incredulous. Safe zone? War lords? ] What the hell happened? Why would it have to be a safe zone? Safe from what?

[ He studies the picture again for some kind of hint, but it doesn't really help, just confuses him more. Water for an entrance fee just sounds... well, kind of like a postapocalypse. Then he offers it back to Geo, hoping she'll tell him, well, something. ]
thesilence: (shifty)

[personal profile] thesilence 2016-08-10 04:03 am (UTC)(link)
[She hesitates. Some part of her doesn't want to divulge more, if only because she's thinking he's from Seattle, this Seattle, the sheltered one. Kids who were born and grew up in Seattle had to only deal with the storms. Everything else had been perfect for them. They didn't have to battle it out like the rest of them do out there.

But even they knew the stories of the ash, the storms, the beasts roaming out there. They were lucky, though, to have underground bunkers and what almost seemed like an infinite supply of everything.

Finally, Geo does take back the sketchpad.]


The Ash. 2027, CAE, aka Common Ash Era. Everything's drying out.

[She stops for a moment. It's true, she can't deny it, but...]

World's trying to grow back. There might be a cure for the Ashen. People who inhale the ash too much get mummified alive. Dry, bony things.

[A drawing of a gaunt face follows up the sentence. Lips are pulled back, revealing rows and rows of teeth. Eye sockets look hollow.]

They're scary dangerous.

[Another momentary pause, before she draws up the symbol for i, the infinite, unknown number. She draws an arrow pointing to it, then continues writing.]

That's me and my crew. We're gonna save the world.
serialtagger: (hey; wait; I've got a new complaint)

[personal profile] serialtagger 2016-08-10 07:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ The hesitation makes him antsy, like someone about to break some really bad news to him. He fidgets as she writes, shifting on his feet waiting and reading along. It's difficult to hang in there until she's done, but the last part does make him smile. ]

Yeah? You guys are the heroes, huh? [ And he means it, not in some mocking or sarcastic way, nods and accepts it. Then he sighs, braces himself to tackle the rest of the thing. ]

Okay, uh... so for me, before I got here, it was 2017, and we ain't ever even heard of The Ash. I mean I wouldn't say that things are totally fine all around the world, but that at least isn't one of the problems. [ It explains the stains, and the gas mask, and the military gear, and the rifle, which he glances at, still on the floor. ] There's no safezones, no Ashen, [ which, you know, sound kinda like zombies ] no people having to trade in water. At least not in Seattle, or anywhere in the United States that I've heard of. So, you know? The world hasn't exactly ended yet.

[ Which... paints a pretty different picture. And he's starting to feel awfully sheltered here. But there's something else he's curious about. Is it really a matter of time before the places he knows turn into some kind of nightmare vision, or... ] I've got just one question. Have you ever heard of Conduits?
thesilence: we just don't know (what is a bird)

[personal profile] thesilence 2016-08-11 04:59 am (UTC)(link)
[She cocks her head, purses her lips and raises her brows. That's a definite no-go on the Conduits.

She's also trying to hold back the smile at being called the heroes. Save the world? Sure. Heroes? Nothing they've really been called before, not outright. Her world's bleak, but it doesn't mean they can't try, and it doesn't mean it's gotta be the end of all hope. There's some good out there.]
serialtagger: (stand up; catch fire)

[personal profile] serialtagger 2016-08-11 12:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Hey, people who try to save the world should be called heroes, right? At least it seems that way to him.

He takes in her confused expression, also cocking his head. ]
Huh. See, they're kind of a big deal where I'm from. I'm just trying to figure out, if we're both from Earth and all, if it's just that we're from different times or... I guess if the difference is bigger.

[ He scratches his head. How to explain. ] Okay so Conduits... are basically people who have special abilities. There's a bunch of different kinds, and apparently it's genetic, so it's not like some disease you can catch. [ Unlike what he thought at first. ] But I'm talking like, shooting lasers out of your hands and flying around and running up the sides of buildings kinds of powers. [ Or a single person remodling the landscape-- let's actually not bring Augustine into this. ]

Now a lot of the normal people are still scared of them. But nothing really gets solved by just trying to lock every last one away, so now I guess we're... working out our differences. [ There's still a lot of them to work out. ]

And you know, if you had people like that around? I figure you'd have heard about it, even if the world as a lot of people knew it might've ended.