Xistentia: Mod (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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xistentiaooc2017-06-17 03:59 pm
spoofer) wrote in xistentiaooc2017-06-17 03:59 pm
Test Drive Meme #2
Test Drive #2
I saw a flower, furrow, and brook
New TDMers are free to RP here as if "new" or "established;"
"new" is likely easier to keep in continuity after apping.
When gameplay begins, the second wave will have
their own intro plot and crash log!
"new" is likely easier to keep in continuity after apping.
When gameplay begins, the second wave will have
their own intro plot and crash log!
CREATURES IN THE DARK
Far away from the city, the wall of light that is F.A.T.E.S. seems calm, glowing peacefully. You’re on an evening walk through the city, or maybe on a camping trip in the woods, or maybe on a romantic date on the beach; whatever it is, you’re outdoors, enjoying the apparent peace and quiet, for once.
That is, until you hear a noise. It’s a rustle, or a step, a branch breaking underfoot, a heavier sound than a human would make. And that’s when you find yourself faced with one of the many Xistentia critters: the Green Backed Bison. She's massive, with small horns and a broad, mossy back, a small calf at her side. She does not appear to want to charge you[1], but that might change, depending on what you decide to do! Either approach it, run away, or go into aggressive mode; how will you react to being introduced to the incredible fauna of Xistentia?
Glitch in the City
The city of Xistentia now boasts a population of over 200 sentient souls! Congratulations on surviving your apocalypse, now feel free to enjoy the city and outlying forest. Today, a number of local businesses are open, including the local tailor, our diner Pop's Chocklit Shop, and Sue's Salads. For now, the only bar and lounge is the atrium of the Citadel, the outpost overlooking the sea. It's a lovely day to be out and about.
But at midday, the rendering errors begin. New arrivals, those who came into Xistentia since the second crash find themselves subject to a bizarre phenomenon, where a holographic projection seems to be floating above their head! It contains data about the character's marital status, preferences for fun and dating activities, and pet peeves... and perhaps embarrassingly, it isn't necessarily accurate.
As your daemon will explain the glitch is easy enough to fix! You can either move 100 yards from the location where it began, or another character can remove it for you by touching the graphic.
Preferred Alias: F.A.T.E.S. McWeirdo
Marital Status: Hateboning Nemesis
Preferred Dating Activity: Creating new universes, maintaining the equilibrium of the multiverse, organizing temporal divergences/alternate universes, restoring damage inflicted by D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.
Other Enjoyable Activity: DJing music
GAME NIGHT
At 6 p.m., your Daemon starts making noise - a software update is being installed. It lasts for a few minutes, your Daemon mainly unresponsive if you attempt to make it do anything else than upload the data F.A.T.E.S. is sending it. Afterwards, it resumes acting as normal as it did before the update, but if you ask it, your Daemon will tell you:
Upgrade was installed for entertainment and integration purposes; Hangman.exe was installed.
Launch the application, and you will be given a match against one of your fellow citizens who also decided to join the game. On your holoscreen is a rudimentary, simple game of Hangman, as well as a chat window to taunt your opponent if you so choose. However, it becomes clear that F.A.T.E.S. has no idea what she's doing... the first word is 16 letters long, and she has pre-filled in the letters Z, C, and Q.
It's a good day to complain about technology, or start a new game afresh.
CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE
hells yeah
Jack Benjamin | Kings (CDC CRAU + PSL'd TYL future things hahahaaa)
[ jack had been on the last shuttle off planet, as he always is, for a few reasons, most chiefly being: d'artagnan refuses to fucking leave until everyone is loaded up and gone. the others, maybe, have something to do with wanting to look out of his subordinates - you get a pay dock as unit lead if you lose one of your squad members, you see. the problem was, the end was coming too soon. he's seen what the CDC version of planetary apocalypse looks like - gravitational anomaly, storms, quakes, a planet literally screaming in one case. what comes this time isn't the same, and it's fast. it was as if it was crumbling from the inside, imploding and collapsing, and the shuttle only barely made it off the ground before it had fallen out from under them. not, however, without damage.
it wouldn't make it all the way to the Neheda, so the few left had taken to escape pods, likely should've fit more than one, but Ringo takes up enough room for three. no idea how many actually made it to the mothership, a blast from the shuttle had jack's head slammed against a wall, and the rest was dark. where he woke was Xistentia's beach, having to kick at the pod door until it unhinged enough to open, rolling out onto the hot sand, Ringo nearly falling on top of him, still in his combat gear from the mission. he drags himself up to stand, the faint blue-white glow of his cybernetic spine dull against the bright sun, and the blue hologram of the mental amplifier he wears circling back behind his head from one temple to the opposite side like a fractured circlet, all together looking ridiculously out of place next to a beach, and a lush forest.
and whatever the fuck that rocky, grassy bison looking thing is. out of the corner of his eye, he sees ringo start to crouch, apparently wanting to stalk and pounce and probably eat this thing, or just play around with it's corpse, because cats are sociopathic that way. too tired to deal with this shit, jack snorts, then drops a hand in a light swat on the back of ringo's way too durable head. ] Suppress your murder boner for two seconds, please. You can come back and go homicidal on it later. Work now.
[ 'work' meaning figure out where the hell they are and how to hale the Neheda and get home. Ringo appears to give the equivalent of a monster-cat huff, and flops himself onto his stomach in the sand, looking petulant, Jack snorting at the little display. ] Drama queen.
❚❚❚❚❚ glitch in the city.
Preferred Alias: Jack Benjamin, callsign 'Scion'
Marital Status: Engaging in frequent intercourse outside of wedlock with a French swordsman.
Preferred Dating Activity: Alcohol, sex (exclusively homosexual), planetary genocide, lying.
Other Enjoyable Activity: Drinking, cursing excessively inside a black box, sexual promiscuity, reading the Judeo-Christian Bible, social interaction with select tolerable acquaintances, regicide + patricide, playtime with a monster alien cat, torture.
Pet Peeves: Work, people, new people at work, incompetence, Honey, obnoxiousness, waking up before noon, water drops, faulty tech, being here.
[ Jack's still stood outside the tailor's shop, a few bags in hand and white, sci-fi armor still encasing him, staring at the pop up hovering above his head with visible disdain. it isn't beyond his experiences to be found in a virtual world, though imagining that all other dimensions are the same is really pushing the limits of what he's willing to accept. Either way, the situation is what it is, and whether this body is his own, or something constructed inside whatever VR he's been hooked into, there's still a fucking pop-up calling him a slut hanging out right over head.
and announcing to everyone that he's gay as hell - not a thing he likes having advertised either. or the patricide thing. or the regicide thing. or the genocide thing. but whatever, he'd been pulled out of the CDC, if there's anyone else here from the same world, it's hardly going to be a surprise. What he focuses on is the 'marital status' blank, squinting at it bitterly. ]
Not any more, compliments of this shithole, thanks. Add that to the list of complaints to file, right behind humidity and gold edging. [ seriously, rumplestiltskin, this shit is tacky. ]
❚❚❚❚❚ wildcard.
[ idefk, hit me ]
❚❚❚❚❚ creatures in the dark/arrival.
take off doesn't go smoothly. turbulence rockets the shuttle every which way, and at one point elena unstraps herself from her seat to check on a junior recruit — stupid, obviously, and she snaps at tony to sit back down in his when he makes to do the same thing — and a sharp jolt sends her flying up into the ceiling, her neck snaps, and she falls unconscious.
waking up on a beach is not totally out of elena's realm of experience, so she manages not to freak out quite as much as she might otherwise. she checks her blackglass for a transmission from the neheda, for the personnel tracker, anything, but it's inoperative. luckily it only takes a few minutes to catch a familiar scent, and she grins as she speeds in jack's direction. )
Reminds you a little bit of Macha, huh? So green, ( she says before she's even stopped next to him — and then she notices the bison. or at least what looks vaguely like a bison, by earth standards. her arrival's spooked it, and it huffs in their direction, moving to stand in front of the calf at its side. )
Maybe don't move and she won't try to gore us to death?
no subject
Macha was hell. Good riddance. [ he'd lost his sister there, lost dagger, saw david chipped away. so much bad came from macha, he's glad to leave it behind. jack's busy tapping at his cuff, besides, trying to bring up anything familiar on the display. he'll later learn it now functions as his daemon, but at the moment, it's just a blur of nonsense coding, nothing helpful.
glancing up, he looks at the bison when she moves, squinting for a second, before digging for his blackglass instead. he has his armor on, and elena's durable as hell. the creature won't be a problem. besides, his plasma rifle is still in the pod behind him. ]
She's the least of our worries right now. Did you see any other pods land? Can you get anything from your cuff?
no subject
( macha was when elena's life support got turned off, and after they left it she was put on grey team. the only thing worse than those two experiences was turning her humanity off on substrata, the threats and the fights with everyone she cared about. macha may have been jack's least favourite planet, but substrata was elena's. )
I didn't see any other pods. I only found you because I tracked your scent, and I can't smell anyone else we know around here.
( elena keeps an eye on the bison, trying to subtly maneuver herself in front of jack as she does. it's as much about him as it is not spooking the animal; jack would be offended by the implication that he needed to be protected, even if logically he can acknowledge that she is, if nothing else, less likely to die when stabbed through the stomach than he is.
her juggernaut cuff sits around her wrist, a persistent weight, ready to be used. )
I tried the personnel locator, I tried to text Tony and d'Artagnan on their blackglasses — I even tried Mom. Nothing.
no subject
[ yes, substrata was also hell, for elena specifically, for a lot of reasons. they've been through a lot of planets that were complete hell, and once their blown into cosmic dust, jack likes to erase them from his mind just as simply. the answer she gives has a tremor of tension sneaking through jack's jaw, especially at d'Artagnan's name, but he's a unit lead, he's meant to keep it together in times like these. ]
They could still be stuck in their pods, or something in the atmosphere here may be messing with the signal. [ it isn't the first time they've had communications down, or glitches in the cuffs or blackglasses. they're lucky the things are apparently still working to keep their biometrics stable. ]
We couldn't have fallen far from Neheda. Let's focus on trying find a way to boost the signal. We can start with the pod. [ a glance spared towards the grumbling bison thing, and how elena's starting to scoot her way between him and the creature. she won't see it but a small smile quirks one side of his lips. so many years and she still wants to protect him. this hellish job has showed him more kindness than home ever did. jack lets out a sharp whistle, calling the Bahari's attention. ] Ringo, chase. Do not harm.
[ they don't need to potentially offend any locals by slaughtering wildlife of potential importance. best to just run it off and avoid damage, and Ringo's obedient enough to keep his claws and fangs to himself when told. ]
no subject
We all have needs to satisfy and bills to pay. Anything else, or were you planning on being actually helpful after the uninvited commentary was taken care of?
[ he's in a bad mood and there's no subordinates to take it out on here, sorry sweetums. ]