( 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

[yorisearching]

[Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Yori watches the group that's already too near the terminal and tries to estimate how long before the ones she was retreating from will come down this corridor.]

No one seems to be sure how to handle these intruders yet. I've just been trying to stay away, I'm not Security.

[...identifying with this specific terminal? Yori's not sure why this set of hardware can talk when most programs out here don't seem able, but there's not time to ask for details now.]

I can confirm they drain power wherever they are. Not much physical damage. If I can't shoo them away, you'd better put your terminal in standby or shut down until the ship's clear.

[Best to say that before she chances power drain forcing her into unconsciousness. Yori lifts the frisbee and waves it near the closest threat, hoping they might startle and move like the bugs in the Inugami high school and not like the swarming deadly gridbugs of Encom.]

[lostsymmetry]

[Was that a function reference, or is she just talking about her job? No, later.]

Ah, can't. Shut down, that is. Not without a validated operator.

[An utterly pointless rule when he's not even connected to the systems that need to be kept running. But what isn't? The camera twitches, tracking her attempt with more than a little trepidation.]

Good to know they aren't our usual neighbors. If you need to clear out, can you send someone by later?

[yorisearching]

[What a pointless rule. Yori winces at the idea and hopes it's not a sample of directives aboard ship. Maybe not; this terminal looks different and is talking to her, after all.]

Sorry. Whatever you can do to protect your programs, then.

[At her first slow wave, the glowing things do scatter, two drifting down the hall while the other one flies up to the ceiling and heads in the direction of the group she'd been retreating from. Yori lets out a relieved hiss. That's something.]

If I have to retreat or they knock me to standby levels, I'll send someone when I can and check on you when it's safe.

[She moves several steps after the third glow to get an idea where the others are, blue toy raised. The thing takes offense, zipping abruptly down to latch on to the blue surface.]

[The power drain in its vicinity is painful. Yori drops the disk and jerks backward, her hand numb. The glowing thing appears to take this as a victory and zooms away, leaving a patch of darkness in the corridor lit by the glowing mark of a bite.]

[Could have been worse. Yori rubs her hand to check for unfelt damage, then prods the disk with her foot to check for power drain effects. None. That seems limited to the creatures themselves. She scoops the disk up in her left hand and backs up to the terminal, glancing both ways warily.]

There are likely to be more.

[lostsymmetry]

[Standby levels. Good to know. The promise alleviates a little of the programmed need, and the mainframe watches with relief as the first two scatter. When the third zips in, there's an abbreviated "Watch out!", but not quite in time. Fortunately it doesn't seem to have done damage.

The image on the terminal flickers a little brighter as his rescuer retreats, nothing left in reach to drain him. There's a faint hmming noise at her warning.]

That there are. Are you okay?

[yorisearching]

[She flexes her right hand while watching the flicker of distant lights. Once the levels even out, the pain fades.]

No damage. Don't worry, they let me recharge when I got here. Eighty percent still.

[She'd felt deep relief to have an actual power conduit after these months of unfamiliar solid food. Not the point, right now; how long she'll be okay is a different and very relevant question.]

I can function at low energy quite a while if necessary, but I'm sure someone will come by the medbay before then. It looks like a full ship.

[Someone had better. Yori had once rationed her energy use strictly enough to hide the existence of a room of artwork from the guards, but functioning for a factory worker wasn't meant to include battle. If she knew who might be nearby and willing to help, she'd make a call, but if everyone else is dealing with the glowing things already...well, she hopes it won't take them long.]

[lostsymmetry]

Makes sense.

[Not that he's managed any real sort of look around. The camera checks both ways, but at least for the moment, they seem to be clear.]

What kind of model are you, anyway? That was some, ah, quick improvisation.

[Frisbee. Combat. It is impressive that she thought of it... even if it's at least as baffling. What even?]

[yorisearching]

[There's no point pretending to be other than digital when she's been clumsy enough to make it obvious how the power drain affects her; the captains of the ship already know. Yori hopes her new acquaintance isn't the type to use it against her.]

I'm only a program. I was written to analyze code or data and warn my User of errors.

[She quirks a small, pleased smile toward the camera, not taking her eyes off the ends of the corridor. The compliment applies to both her function and her free choices.]

Learning to defend myself and others is more of a personal goal. Something I wished I could do back when the disappearances started and my home system lost all its freedom. Anyone caught wasting energy on inefficient processes such as friendship would be taken away and deleted.

[Memory darkens her expression. This voice speaking for a system doesn't sound anything like the arrogance of the MCP or Sark, but...]

I hope your system and those aboard ship are a little kinder to programs.