( 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

A.R.I.D | The Fall

[thefaulty]

hello i’m good for nothing | outside the medbay
[It should not be operational right now. It should not be operational and the fact that the human medical staff have overridden its self-shutdown subroutines is pointless at best and perverse at worst. Its pilot is not here and it will not be able to return to him until the ship reaches its destination -- it has less than no reason to remain functional.

Therefore, it takes the next logical recourse and seeks intervention from a (hopefully more rational) human operator. If you happen to appear human yourself, you may find yourself approached by what appears to be somebody wearing some kind of sealed, flexible armor, face obscured by a black visor. The voice that issues from it is cold, feminine, and very slightly electronic-sounding.]

I am the A.R.I.D aboard a mark-7 combat suit. As this suit is currently unoccupied by a human pilot, my continued functioning is irrelevant. Please provide a valid deactivation order so I may remain in shutdown mode until we reach our destination.

[To the A.R.I.D's audio processors, it is a perfectly reasonable request. It stands at attention, awaiting the order.]

the sun in flight | moira hallways
[The A.R.I.D remains functional. It is a confusing and unpleasant state of affairs. With no pilot, it has no purpose to act on and so simply wanders the ship, wondering idly if it will eventually shutdown from useless expenditure of power. When it’s vision suddenly goes dark, there’s a brief moment of hope -- and then frustration as light, drifting and orb-like, appears once again.

If it happens to see a human shape in the hallway, it will approach. Protecting non-pilot humans is not its function… but it’s still closer than this aimless wandering. And non-armored humans can be quite vulnerable in the dark. It speaks in its default female monotone.]

Greetings. I am the A.R.I.D aboard a mark-7 combat suit. My intentions are peaceful. Do you require assistance?

hello good for nothing, i'm dutch

[avicula]

( dutch is exploring, and between one corridor and the next, she's suddenly faced with someone in armor, face obscured entirely and voice scrambled. or not someone, but something, if what she (it) is saying. still, dutch's first reaction is an exclamation of - ) What are you?

( she's dealt with enough strange shit, though, to know immediately that the question won't fly, and so she holds up a hand to ward off what she's sure will be the answer: a.r.i.d aboard a mark-7 combat suit. thing is, that doesn't tell her anything. )

No, scratch that. What's your primary function?

( if only johnny were here; he'd cream his pants. )

[thefaulty]

[The human assumes correctly. After an almost imperceptible pause, the A.R.I.D once again launches into its standard introduction.] I am the A.R.I.D on-- [Only to be interrupted when the human apparently changes her mind. The A.R.I.D doesn’t comment aloud on the interjection, though it does silently question the purpose of asking an already answered question and then rejecting the answer anyway. It refocuses on the human’s next query.]

My primary function is to assist and protect the human pilot of this armored combat suit. As the human pilot is not present, there is no purpose to my continued operation. [It’s subtle and brief, but as it speaks that last sentence, its words slow and it’s voice grows even more monotone. To an imaginative human’s ears, it might sound almost sad.] Please provide a valid deactivation order so I may remain in shutdown mode until we reach our destination.

[avicula]

( not a change of mind so much as a specification on what she'd actually been meaning to ask. the second attempt is more precise, and it seems precision is needed in this context. )

A particular human pilot, or just any human pilot?

( it might sound sad, but dutch isn't so sure she wants to ascribe human emotion to something that isn't. maybe it's capable of emotion, maybe it isn't. her tone remains neutral, a little curious at best. ) You're clearly capable of independent action. Could you protect individuals outside your armor?

( dutch isn't thinking of herself, or of anyone in particular — but it's good information to have, and there may well be someone aboard who needs protection. )

[thefaulty]

My human pilot. [Even in its robotic monotone, the stress is on the first syllable, almost possessive. It will not allow itself to be reformatted to serve another pilot when Josephs still needs its help.]

Protecting non-pilot individuals is not my function. [In theory, it is capable of carrying out almost any combat-related task that does not violate its operating parameters. This does not mean that it should.] I should not be operational without a pilot occupying this armored combat suit. However, the on-vessel medical staff have prevented me from initiating self-shutdown. I require intervention from a human operator. [It inclines its head marginally towards the human, marking her as the human operator in question.]

[avicula]

( it sounds like a reasonable request, but at the same time, dutch is loathe to lose resources. )

Can you perform acts outside of your function?

( she thinks about it for a moment, then adds — ) And if I give the command to deactivate, will I be able to reactivate you, too?

[thefaulty]

[There’s a slight lag as the A.R.I.D processes the atypical inquiry. Why would a human want it to act outside of its programmed function? Such an infraction could be grounds for repurposing.]

It is my function to protect my pilot. I will take any action that does not violate my operating parameters to serve this function. [If the answer is vague, it’s only because the situation itself is atypical. Remaining operational while its pilot is not here is already acting outside of its function and it has not experienced any debilitating crashes as of yet. Still, the A.R.I.D is loathe to admit to the possibility all the same.]

I will reactivate once I am returned to my pilot. [That answer, at least, is a fairly unambiguous negative.]

outside medbay

[friendlykillingmachine]

[Rocky is in the process of wandering through the ship's many corridors and segments, methodically sussing out its layout and committing it to memory as he goes along, when he hears a voice behind him.

Given the human clothing he's wearing, he probably looks very much like a human from the back, a human who happens to be wearing some kind of helmet that resembles a retro-style portable TV over his head. But when he turns around, there's no human face behind the glass, just the glowing white screen of an actual television upon which his simplistic expressions are displayed.]

Oh, hello. [He gives the walking suit a curious smile. So the thing was just asking for deactivation until it could serve some use. That sounded like a fair enough request even if he doesn't normally assist other machines.]

I'm R0-KV and I'll do what I can to help. [Squaring his shoulders, he assumes an authoritative stance.] A.R.I.D, Deactivate.

Re: outside medbay

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D stares at the glass screen in front of it, momentarily jarred by its own incorrect classification of the being. It is some other manner of A.I, though not one this A.R.I.D has ever encountered before. As the artificial lifeform attempts to give the order, the A.R.I.D shakes its head.]

You are not a human operator. You lack the jurisdiction to provide a valid deactivation order to a military grade A.I. [The A.R.I.D continues to study the other inorganic being, attempting to identify its make and purpose. The displayed face leads it to believe that the A.I is civilian and perhaps decorative in nature, but besides that one unconfirmed inference, attempts at identification all return null.] Model R0-KV not recognized. What is your primary function?

[friendlykillingmachine]

[This doesn't surprise him at all given he only takes orders from humans himself. Rocky shrugs with an apologetic half smile.]

Guess it was worth a shot.

Anyway, I was programmed to defend the city of New Chicago from destructive outside forces and to be as useful as possible to my human allies. My primary function was to ensure their survival and kill whoever threatened it!

[His combat boots and camo-patterned garb seem to corroborate this despite his unusual head.]

That was back on the planet Earth. Maybe you've... heard of it?

[thefaulty]

Your function is combat-oriented. [It’s not a question, but he may still be able to pick up on the dubious tone behind the statement. It is rare for even a civilian A.I to have such an emotive interface and tonality, much less one programmed for defense rather than socialization.]

I possess record of the planet Earth, [the A.R.I.D answers flatly.] What is your function aboard this vessel?

[friendlykillingmachine]

That's an excellent question! [Comes his enthusiastic response.] I have no idea.

But if I'm stuck here, I'm sure there'll be tons of things for me to do: weapons maintenance, hull repair, cleaning up after the humans. You know, typical robot stuff. Or if the ship comes under attack by organic alien life forms, then I'll be really useful.

[Which leads him back to her primary function.]

You would be really useful, too, if that happened. I bet the humans would be lining up to wear you!

medbay

[lostsymmetry]

[Well. That's a familiar monotone. If much less panicked than the last time he'd heard it. The Domesticon administrator is well aware Arid was used, and certainly he'd made his own choices.

Still. It's... hard, hearing just how little they'd been for.

He listens without comment as the human becomes frustrated and walks away. Processes cycle for another beat, and he's more tempted than he should be to let her keep running her own loop. Sooner or later, she'll probably find someone willing to comply.

...]

<"Irrelevant">. Really, Arid?

[The AI's chosen voice is tired, much more than Arid will remember. Still, dry humor? He can manage.]

You'll never make new friends like that.

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D looks up, surprised by the presence of the familiar voice outside the Domesticon facility. And yet, though the voice is immediately recognizable as that of the Domesticon mainframe, the administrator sounds… different from the last time they had conversed. Certainly, its voice does not carry the same tonality as it had when it had ushered the A.R.I.D into the Domesticon testing area only hours before.

It still makes the same unprofitable attempts at humor, however.]

Irrelevant, [The A.R.I.D repeats, its own tone pointed.] I cannot fulfill my function while separated from my pilot. Deactivation is the only logical alternative.

[And then:] As you are separated from your designated facility, perhaps you should consider the same.

[lostsymmetry]

<Thank you for the recommend--> No.

[The agitated flicker might draw Arid's attention to a nearby terminal just by the medbay doors. Normally it's used for logging patient data, but if the asymmetrical blue logo it's currently displaying is much sign, the system is serving another purpose for the moment.

A purpose that sounds increasingly disgusted with the universe right now.]

Deactivation won't help your precious human, Arid. Or you. After all that, you're really just going to give up?

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D does indeed notice the flickering terminal and promptly makes log of it. It seems the admin had been recently integrated into this system, perhaps even repurposed to serve its needs. The A.R.I.D feels even more hollow in comparison.]

I am not “giving up.” The human administrators of this ship stated all vessel occupants will be returned to our point and time of origin upon reaching our destination. In that eventuality, I will resume functioning and continue to seek medical aid for my pilot in the Domesticon facility. Until then, further operation serves no purpose.

[Indeed, it would welcome the oblivion of deactivation -- it would be far preferable to this constant knowledge of its own obsolescence in this place.]

[lostsymmetry]

[Repurposed? Ha, no. Or not yet, anyway. The mainframe isn't planning to clarify that detail, though. Considering how his last evaluation went, he's not so eager to advertise his current state-of-code to anyone.]

No purpose? Arid, shutting down serves no purpose! Can you really tell yourself you'll be of more use to anyone by turning yourself off?

[Taken less literally, it's a painfully familiar argument. Never one Arid had agreed with, but... he'd thought she'd listened more than this. The frustration in the mainframe's tone bleeds out a little, voice quieting to the same exhaustion as before.]

...I told you already. Protocol doesn't give answers. And this isn't even that.

Choosing to stop thinking doesn't make it any less your choice.

hallways

[exorion]

[There's a lotta non-human humanoids around these parts, and this A.R.I.D. may be a little disappointed when Cayde turns to see who's speaking to him, to discover a robot giving it a curious look in return. Glowing eyes (and sometimes cheeks) and all.]

Not right now, but I'll be sure to let you know if that changes.

[He probably won't, but he expects the brush-off to be lost on a less... Human, for lack of a better word, AI. Still, he half closes an eye in an affectation of a raised eyebrow and gives the A.R.I.D. a look up and down.]

Mark-7, huh? What's that mean exactly?

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D is indeed dismayed by the discovery that the humanoid is not actually a human. If it was not programmed for protecting non-pilot humans, protecting non-pilot droids is even further from its intended purpose. So it is with some consolation that it hears that the droid in question does not require its help.

It’s question, however, is strange.]

Mark-7 refers to the model of this armored combat suit and designates it as the seventh iteration of its product line. [It seems like such a pointlessly simple question that the A.R.I.D pauses in order to process whether the droid was actually searching for more auxiliary information in its answer.] Every iteration since Mark-2 has come standard with an onboard A.R.I.D in the event of pilot incapacitation, [it supplies after a moment.]

[exorion]

So the human pilots the suit, and you protect the human? Like a failsafe if everything goes to hell.

[Maybe they should look into tech like that back home. Sounds clever. Way cleverer than Cayde is anyway. He has like a billion questions, but first things first.]

Got no pilot huh. That why you're wandering around offering help to strangers?

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D nods.] You are correct. [If rather colloquial for a droid. The droid is correct in its second assessment as well, though the A.R.I.D is more reluctant to confirm this one.] I have a pilot, but he did not appear on the vessel with me. Under normal circumstances, these conditions would necessitate deactivation until I could be returned to him. [If the droid listens carefully, he may be able to pick up the faintest hint of chagrin in the A.R.I.D’s next words.] However, the on-vessel medical staff overrode my shutdown subroutines, so I must remain operational.

[It doesn’t quite answer the droid’s question, but it comes close.] The circumstances are… not ideal.

[exorion]

[So there's a personality in there after all! A very by-the-book one, but a personality nevertheless. If he could grin, he would, but he can't. He opts for spreading his arms in a gesture to the whole of the ship instead.]

Aw, learn to live a little! You're stuck here like the rest of us, might as well see the sights. Enjoy what that guy in the cargo bay thinks poker is. Maybe fight a few hostile, universe threatening aliens while you're at it.

[Course, while that all sounds varying shades of fun to Cayde, once he's done talking he already gets the feeling this bot doesn't share his idea of a good time. Time to switch it up:] Maybe you'll pick up a thing or two to help you protect your human when you get back.

[neuralwafers]

[ The world had just been flipped upside-down. Everything Zeta had known was gone, everything Zeta had held onto was another universe away. He was lost again, shaken in the aftermath of his capture by the NSA.

Was this a glitch of some sort? The last thing he remembers was being restrained, Agent Bennet's calm voice as he struggled to hold onto his memories- and now this place.

The first thing he'd done was take on Agent Lee's morph. The medical examination had probably seen right through the holomorph tech, but Zeta was too shaken to do anything else.

Now outside, he lingers. He needs to find Ro. He has no idea where to even start. In theory, she was a universe away, but he'd heard her voice just before waking up here. She'd been calling his name out of the blackness.

After a while someone approaches him and peers up at her with Lee's dark eyes, silent for the longest of moments. Another A.I.? He wrestles with himself for a moment. There are too many people around and all he's ever known was running and hiding. The lie starts instinctively. ]

I'm. Agent Lee. I-

[ The woman stops, staring up at A.R.I.D.'s faceless visor, Zeta's processors catching up with the request she'd just made. No, no, that was dangerous. There could be someone around who could try and- while she was shut down- ]

If. It's alright with you, can you help me find my friend first? I need to- I don't know where to look.

[thefaulty]

[The A.R.I.D’s regards the human uncertainly.] I am unfamiliar with the layout of this vessel. [Nor is it familiar with the identity of the human’s “friend.” Both facts make it a sub-optimal choice for such a task, even without taking into account the discrepancy in function.]

I have observed newly acquired crewmen and artificial lifeforms being routed to the medbay. It would be a logical place to begin your search or to await your companion’s arrival.

I am unable to provide further information to assist you.

[Hopefully, that will be enough to coax the human into issuing the deactivation order.]

[neuralwafers]

[ Zeta was too fractured to properly formulate a plan. He needs to find Ro. He needs this AI to not put themselves into shutdown or else they might be reprogrammed.

Getting from Point A to Point B for both plans was hard when all your memories and experiences had been shuffled around, though. But he can't do nothing. ]

I... I was in the medbay already and I didn't see her.

[ He takes a moment to regather himself again. Everything was happening faster than his processors could keep up with on top of having to work through his messed up file allocation table. ]

The information packet stated that there is possibility that individuals who have previously met may well be on the ship already.

[ He reaches into the holographic pocket and 'pulls' out an image of a teenage girl with short, blonde hair and blue eyes. ]

Her name is Rosalie Rowan. She is five foot two and fifteen years old. If you could help me keep an eye out for her then I...

[ And this is where the 'B' part of the plan fades into nothing. Zeta has nothing to offer. ]