( 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

[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.]

[avicula]

( a.r.i.d could ask, and dutch would tell it that she isn't going to waste a resource, not when she knows how scarce resources can be, that there are some fights when you need all the ones at your disposal and more. she doesn't have enough information about this place yet to tell whether that's the case here, but it's not like this kind of thing is ever predictable.

so it just made the choice for her. )

Sorry. No can do.