redmarsshit | redshift: tdm #5

redshift: tdm #5

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

▶ Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

▶ All TDM threads can be considered game canon, and current players are welcome to either top-level on the TDM so prospective players can tag them, or use the prompts for logs or network posts on the communities. All threads on the TDM can be used for Activity Check.

a. don't be a sap.

Good morning, October 25th! Whether you're a confused new arrival or a current resident, you probably had some plans for today, right? Grab breakfast, visit a friend, pick some fruit, explore a new part of the massive city.

Well. Too bad. Because, as every single bot in the city will be telling you the moment you show your face, it's GOOP FESTIVAL DAY! What? You've never heard of it? Preposterous, everyone knows about the Goop Festival, it's one of the most anticipated holidays in Anchor! Haven't you been preparing for this for a week now?

The Goop Festival is a harvest celebration, in particular, a celebration of the sap-producing trees that grow wild in the Park, thick around the edges of the south side of the lake. The bots have been hard at work setting up the festival grounds in the shade of the trees in the balmy fall temperatures. There are spiles tapped into trees with buckets placed underneath that are already half-full of a thick, viscous, amber-colored sap. The bots have also set up troughs of shaved ice with long sticks nearby, with which they will demonstrate for excited residents (you are excited, right?) how to cool the sap in the ice and wrap it around the stick to make it a sort of taffy candy. That's not the only sweet surprise waiting, either.

A long table set up in the grass is loaded down with all sorts of delicious sap-related goodies, ranging from cupcakes with thick globs of sap-flavored frosting to sap-flavored jerky to sap sugar candies, and just about anything else you can imagine. There are a wide variety of offerings that would taste good coated, flavored, or glazed with the sap, which tastes sort of like a caramelized toffee. Another table is laid out that has row upon row of cups, each half-full of the sap, heated lightly to a thinner consistency and served similarly to hot chocolate - at least, if hot chocolate gave you a floaty, happy, hazy sort of feeling. Everything made with this sap does, actually, with the cups of pure sap having a stronger effect and items with less sap content having barely any effect at all.

Does this not sound like your cup of weird tree sap? Too bad. This is the GOOP FESTIVAL, and everything is shut down for this lovely paid vacation day. Spa? Locked down. Kitchens? Locked. Bar? Nope, totally shut down and the server bots are all down at the park. VR Gaming? Too bad, the computers are all shut down. Even roaming the halls and trying to stay out of the way won't help much...be prepared to be dragged down to the park to participate in this mandatory festival! Isn't it exciting?

b. familiar ground.

Every year in Anchor near the end of October, there's a very strange interaction between the protective dome over the city and seasonal radiation surges that happen in the wastelands. Some complicated combination of refraction and reflection means that for the last few days of the month, residents will experience some of the more benign effects of the red shift inside the city.

Did we say benign? Because while there may not be any dangerous radiation to melt your skin off, there are some mind-bending dangers. Characters experiencing the shift will find the world becomes distorted, warped, impossible to navigate; they are enveloped in auditory and visual hallucinations, and can become so disoriented that they can't even recognize people they've known for years. And characters will find that the citywide shift brings in slivers of other universes, little slices of places characters have never seen before...or places so familiar they make the heart beat hard with joy or fear.

And just like in the wastelands, the things that show up in these shifts are all too real. Characters may find themselves walking through a door into a scene straight from home, or from someone else's home. Whether it's a favorite place to share with a new friend, or the nightmare landscape you almost died in, complete with the monster that almost killed you, be careful. Everything you experience here is real, and if you die in the shift, you die for real.

Of course, the city has its own safety measures in place - residents experiencing the hallucinations and appearances of items and places from other worlds may find themselves locked down in the room they're in, trapped with the otherworldly effects of the shift.

c. the virus.

A few weeks ago, people in Anchor started getting a case of the sniffles. While some of the earliest cases might be clearing up, there are still a few people suffering, or people freshly infected by those who were sick earlier, including some of the new arrivals who may not even be feeling it yet.

Which may make the cause of some unexpected 'glitches' around the city a little unclear. Residents who are feeling the effects of the illness, or who are infected but not showing symptoms yet (or anymore) will find that their access to certain parts of the city are restricted. Suddenly, automatic doors aren't opening for them, as if they were ghosts, particularly when they try to access anything that may facilitate transmission of the virus. Suddenly, only some of the residents of the city will find they can't get into half of the MedBay, or the spa, the kitchens, the VR or games rooms, the bar...anywhere people gather or eat or sit close together.

Residents may put together that it's related to the illness some of them have been experiencing over the past few weeks, but it might take a while, since these safety and security measures are affecting people who are showing no symptoms yet. Be prepared for a few days of paranoia while seemingly perfectly healthy people are locked out of common areas. What does the computer know that residents don't? Are these people security risks? Is it a system glitch? What could be going on?

c. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to warn a friend not to leave their apartment unless they want to be forcibly press-ganged into the Goop Festival? Maybe you need to hold your sat phone up to whatever crazy thing you're seeing and send out a recording to double-check if your eyes are deceiving you and what you're looking at is real?

Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.

Mod Note: The "familiar ground" prompt will be active between October 29th and October 31st; "the virus" prompt will be active until the next introductory mingle, which will be kicking off the second part of the illness plot.

Navigation.

Threaded | Flat

Any questions for the mods can be asked here!

park.

[ allison hasn’t been in anchor long — it’s been maybe twelve hours since she had to sit through a video of idris elba-who-is-not-irdis-elba (allison met him once at a cocktail party, and he looks much different up close), was forced to undergo a minimally satisfying communal shower, retrieve her clothes and some bizarre, clunky phone. since then, allison has successfully located a replacement bandage which is now wrapped around her throat, but she’d like a little more than that. maybe a scarf, to hide the suggestion of an unappealing wound. but more than that, allison wants to go home. she needs to save her sister, and probably the world, but it’s vanya who’s on her mind right now — vanya, who could be hurt, or dead, or worse. allison doesn’t want to lose another loved one.

so she’s searching. searching for home, a scarf, a friend — anything.

allison’s search has brought her to the park. in the distance, she spots a young girl sitting on a bench, swinging her legs back and forth. when allison moves closer, she can just make out that the little girl is humming.

allison would know that voice anywhere. it’s claire. it’s her daughter.

with that realization, allison practically sprints towards the bench, stopping a few feet away from her child. allison is crying and grinning; her body shakes a little. she’s full of fear and joy and love — love for her daughter, and joy that she can see her again. but fear for her, too — anchor isn’t safe for claire. they need to go home.

allison sits on the bench, and in her mind, they embrace.

any onlooker, however, will just see allison, hugging herself, petting the air, and crying at nothing — nothing at all. ]

network. un: a.h.

Help I’ve been dragged to some robot event I know nothing about they’re trying to force feed me candy and there’s a mysterious sticky goop all in my hair and clothes how do I get out of here

Edited 2019-10-25 13:28 (UTC)

A. Don't Be A Sap

"Goop Festival", [he echoes flatly.] Really?

[One of the bots that corralled them all into the park tries to take his forearm and urge him forward to get a closer look at the... 'festival'. Scaramouche easily takes it back.] Hey, hands off, babe. [He makes a point of brushing off the imaginary flakes of rust as he watches the bot move toward their next victim.] Keep walkin'...

[Once they're out of earshot, he says to himself in a low voice:] Time to cut out. [What he needs is a distraction. An accomplice would be even better. Bringing his forefinger to his chin, he scans the area for one.]

Wildcard

[ooc: Want to run into Scaramouche somewhere else or have a plot idea? Shoot me a message at

onthelam or on Discord, or PM this journal.]

Edited 2019-10-26 10:41 (UTC)

Goop Festival

Unfortunately, a festival focused around sugary delights made from tree sap has little to offer an undead man with little left in terms of his sense of taste, rendering him unable to enjoy said delights. He's mostly at the festival because everywhere else he was hoping to visit today is seemingly closed, and all the constructs in the hallways kept urging him toward the park. While no longer outright terrified of them, Carlisle wasn't interested in upsetting the constructs and giving them a reason to terrify him, so to the lower levels of Anchor he went.

He has to admit that now that he's here, the festival does merit a visit. Though he can't eat the candies or cupcakes or any of the other sap-coated confections (not that the constructs don't keep trying to get him to do so), he can certainly smell the sickeningly sweet aroma given off by the trees, rising from the steaming cups, and generally flooding the air all around him. More importantly, he can see how the sap affects other people, and his observations give him ideas.

Suffering from normal nightmares, agonizing guilt over even minor transgressions, and a worsening condition that left his limbs stiffer and colder with every passing day, Carlisle always had trouble sleeping when he was alive. Most often, he turned to liquor to quiet his thoughts; however, on some nights when the frailty of his body was more than he could bear, he'd enchant himself some specialized tea. Between the drink itself and the steam that rose from it, he could ease the aches of his muscles and the woes of his mind long enough to find relief. Now, his problem is that he can't manage to fall asleep at all, and with no paw plants to brew and the enchantment not strong enough to work on an undead on its own, he hasn't managed to sleep since he awakened as an undead.

And while it has occurred to him that the undead don't need to sleep, he prefers to think of himself as a person, and people need to sleep, so he should too. It not only gives him a break from his relentless anxiety, but it makes him feel just a little more human - a little more alive. He needs that routine, that structure - he needs this to feel more like himself.

And so, he wonders if the tea might be strong enough if he has a replacement for the paw plant, something that seems to have a similar effect overall. Now that well worth his time at this festival. Ducking behind one of the spiled trees, he waits for a moment when the constructs aren't looking, aiming to grab one of those half-full barrels for himself. He's going to need plenty of sap if he wants to experiment.

Wildcard

[Feel free to hit him up around Anchor, or shoot me a PM here, at

grimmhooke, or on Discord to plot something else!]

Edited 2019-10-26 08:28 (UTC)

[a]

Saurfang is a little too old and dour to be excited about something called the Goop Festival, but once he’s been herded over to the Park, he does find himself slightly relieved to find that it’s just about tree sap. Having already discovered that the rest of the facility is more or less closed, he stalks about the festival grounds, looking rather disgruntled but not causing a fuss. He’s not going to participate – despite everything he's been through, he still has a little dignity to lose – but it won't do him any harm to watch the other residents. Some of them even seem to be having fun, although the only real activity is eating things.

If someone's off to the side like he is, he'll even try to engage in a little conversation. Not much else to do.

“You celebrated this before?”

[b]

He had forced himself to watch the World Tree burn. He deserved to; it would be another shame that would follow him to the long-awaited grave. The sight of it now, therefore, is all too familiar, although the fact that it's sitting in the middle of a hallway in Anchor is a little odd. But he had not been so close to it before - he'd watched from across the water, where the heat had been the only bearable thing about it. Now, trapped in the corridor, he wouldn't be able to get far enough away.

He's been told that he can't always trust his senses in this place, but he doesn't know what else to do right now. He backs himself against the double doors that have somehow locked from the inside, shields his face, and tries to come up with a plan. Smashing the doors seems like the only option; there's no way to put the Tree out and nothing else that might shield him from the approaching fire.

Saurfang turns and takes a few steps back, aiming to rush the doors, when they actually open from the other side and someone else steps inside the burning hallway -

“No!” he lunges for them, to stop the door from closing or to knock them out of the corridor, but neither plan succeeds. They're both trapped, now.

feeling pretty sappy

[ Through the Door at Hadriel's end and - surprise - she isn't back in her own world at all. The whole thing has been both more and less of a surprise than she'd figured, but Cecily Trevelyan is exasperated nonetheless. ]

I've experienced some truly silly festivals and celebrations, but this one is-...well. Wouldn't want to say something that might get me into a sticky situation, would I?

[ She'll wink at anyone within earshot, perfectly pleased with her terrible pun. The Goop Festival, as it's apparently called, has a terrible name, but she's never been one to turn up her nose at a party of any kind. As such, the Inquisitor makes herself at home at the table, sampling some of the sap-based treats, as well as the not-hot-chocolate. ]

It's got a similar effect to a glass or two of wine, apparently. Brilliant. [ Cecily hums contentedly as she drains her glass, letting the warmth of the...whatever it is wash over her. Really, this festival isn't so bad at all. ]

it's familiar...but not too familiar...but not too not familiar

[ As with any new world, there will be dangers. Today, it's something...less obvious. As she stands stock-still, Cecily watches as she road ahead of her bends and undulates, causing her to moan aloud and press her hands against her face as if warding off a migraine. ]

What in the Maker's-...? [ Definitively odd. She exhales shakily and tries to steady herself, peeking out at the world and...seeing it as it should be. Without the street twisting unnaturally.

For now.

Cecily gives it one last, suspicious glance before hurrying on her way. She's even starting to feel as if it could've possibly been a harmless trick of her mind when she steps through a door and into...Skyhold. The courtyard, specifically, with its garden and arbor, with its usual population milling about and the chill of the Frostbacks hanging in the air.

Something lodges itself tight in her throat. This...is not simple trick, but neither is it real. This is what she reminds herself as she takes a nearby leaf of elfroot into her hands and feels its substance. Its textured, physical substance.

Not real. Certainly not her first experience with phantoms and visions. And yet... ]

u up???

[ Fortunately for this medieval lady, texting, and an electronic network, are not new. ]

That nearly-coma-inducing sap drink seemed an excellent idea at the time, but it's left me feeling a bit knackered today. Does anyone have a recommendation for how best to overcome this particularly-nasty hangover? Thank you in advance for your wisdom as I overcome this great trial

— bring out your goop;

[ So.

It looks like she doesn't exactly get a choice in experiencing this festival, does she? Unless she stayed in all day which... No. No, being stuck in a little room all day sounds like—

Sounds just like what she left behind, honestly.

So, if nothing else, Kate doesn't have to be forced into participating in this. She glances at and bypasses stall after stall, every offering sweet and sickly, until she's eventually cornered by an observant bot running a stall with several drinks laid out upon it. ]

I told you no. [ But, but but! ] Don't want owt. Get lost.

[ How, exactly, does a robot get to be this insistent? Somebody send help. ]

— i've seen this place before;

[ At first, nothing seems unusual. Not for her. Not until a path leads somewhere it shouldn't have — didn't she just come from here — and Kate slows to a halt, blinking and shaking her head, trying to push away cobwebs which have suddenly formed.

But it's just a moment's glitch, a small thing. She's fine. She just has to double back again, and she'll be—

Wait. Did she go left, or right?

And what is that single, flickering fluorescent light? So familiar and

gone.

Gone and back again, blinking in the corner of her eye, an consistent annoyance. ]

... The hell...?

[ She squints, turning her head in that direction, but nothing. Not even the path she should be seeing. Just a blank wall, dark damp stone and the scent of age and disuse. ]

No— fuck— fuck!

[ Gone is the unfamiliar pathways of Anchor, gone is sunlight and skyline, gone is everything but a flickering light in the corner of her eye and the blank square of a cell, one steel door and a window looking out to an abandoned table with nothing more than two dusty old coffee cups.

Not here. Not again. Her stomach twists and her fists meet the side of the wall with a thud, ineffectual and hollow, but she wouldn't expect anything else in this cell. ]

— texts from last... torment?;

Somebody got a map of this place?

Want to get to the gym this time.

— wildcard;

[ you know how this goes. hit me with anything. ]

Edited 2019-10-29 10:25 (UTC)

The area behind the ranch was trees and some smaller fields that Pratt had been cultivating into what would be vegetable plots in the future. The trees were tall and had spreading canopies in various colors, some dropping bright acorns in strange shapes. None of them were pine trees and it certainly wasn't a forest.

Until now.

Pratt hadn't even really noticed the change, he'd been digging in the field, a trench that would help to irrigate the few pepper plants that he had growing, staked against a few pieces of broken PVC pipe to keep them upright. Princess Thug had wandered away a few hours ago to go hunting, but he wasn't concerned - she'd be back in a few hours like normal. He didn't want to impede her natural instincts by keeping her inside or on a tether.

But this time when Pratt looked up to head back to the barn and store his tools away - the barn simply wasn't there. Well it might have been but it was impossible to tell as hundreds of trees had sprung up all around Pratt, tall pine trees so close together the light from above barely trickled down to the ground, the only open space remaining was the small field he'd been digging in.

Backing up he looked around, calling for the wolf, wondering where to run to, and what had happened. But over some loudspeakers that shouldn't even be there came a few tinkling lines of what sounded like a music box and all the color drained from Pratt's face.

"No... NO!"

The distorted echo of a song starts to play, sounding as if it's coming from underwater almost. Playing over itself in places and off tempo. Only youuuuuu.

Familiar Ground - Cull the Weak
There's a strange sound from within the room up ahead. Maybe it's music, maybe it's the dripping sound of water reverberating against concrete floor. But coming inside the room will reveal that nothing is as it should be. Tables and chairs are floating midair, even though it's inside there's trees and a gravel path and everything is tinted red. Things seem to be moving in slow motion and there's the perpetual sound of music that seems to come from every direction, the tune just slightly off between each speaker.

Pratt is up ahead, or he's behind you, or he's standing off to the side. He's there - in his green uniform and looking like he hasn't slept in a week. But is it Pratt?

The voice commanding someone to cull the weak or make your sacrifice certainly sounds like Pratt - but he doesn't seem to really be speaking. He doesn't seem to be doing anything but standing there.

There's another voice KILL KILL KILL strident and louder than Pratt's guttural monotone you are no hero. But the source of that one can't be found.

Welcome to the Trials. Make your sacrifice.

Network
Don't go into the room!

Don't run the trial. Don't do it don't do it

DON'T.

He's here.

Edited 2019-10-30 03:41 (UTC)

[THE VIRUS] – [OPEN]

Fatigue no longer dragged at Kieran’s every step, nor did the everlasting threat of a cough tickling at the back of his throat. Sneezes didn’t plague him anymore, and he finally managed to get his sniffles under control. Everything seemed to be looking up after a good couple of weeks full of that special kind of misery only a bout of illness could bring.

Then the doors that he’d grown used to opening immediately as he approached them remained firmly shut. Adding insult to injury were the moments when these doors would actively close on him with an indignant WOOSH.

Kieran stands in front of the door to the dining hall, hands on his hips and a scowl clear on his face.

“Aw, c’mon!!! This is the second time today!” he whines… at the door. First time for everything.

“I just wanna make myself a sandwich…”

--

[FAMILIAR GROUND] – [CLOSED TO BEN, PRATT, & CARLISLE]

It’s well towards the end of the month that Kieran finds himself shut out—again—by one of those doors. Somewhere along the way, someone has explained to him (whether it be a fellow outsider to Anchor, or a cog in the system itself) that it could have something to do with his prior illness. That didn’t exactly make him feel great. Still, Kieran took it upon himself to travel around. He needed the exercise, and a life full of manual labor made sure that he’d not only grown accustomed to it, but that he actively craved it. His time holed up with that weird cold had stolen nearly chance he had to put his body to work, and he needed to do something to get back into that groove. So, he sighs and walks away from this nearest door and into a somewhat unfamiliar section of the agricultural sector.

As Kieran mindlessly walks along a corridor, he finds himself rolling up his sleeves and loosening his neckerchief. Somewhere down the line, the air has grown a bit warmer. A bit more humid. The usually sterile scents sometimes peppered with pollen from the strange trees start mixing with something a little muggier. Like a swamp. He stops in his tracks, heart pounding in his chest as realization hits.

Somehow, the path Kieran had been following has warped into the outskirts of Shady Belle.

He remembers this spot in particular. He remembers what had happened here, just outside of the camp he dared not ever leave.

Adrenaline rushes through Kieran’s veins, and he turns to run—

—only to feel someone come up from behind him, grab him roughly by the middle and cover his mouth with a large grimy hand before he can shout for help. He struggles against the grip, kicking, rolling, and thrashing harder than he did back home now that he’s absolutely positive of what’s going to happen next. His assailant doesn’t break his grip, though, and only offers a chilling laugh with every unsuccessful attempt at freedom. He never found out who had been the one to kidnap him from the Van der Linde camp back then; Colm O’Driscoll had a bad habit of corralling tough, mean men by the dozens and turnover rates were high in his gang. It looks like he’s not about to find out here, either.

His boots leave definitive notches in the dirt as he continues to fight against the vice grip holding him tight. Eventually, Kieran manages to break the gang member’s hold just long enough to take a few glorious steps towards his escape. It’s a hope short-lived, however, as another O'Driscoll grabs him by his gangly arms and throws him roughly to the ground. His jaw slams against the ground and for a moment Kieran marvels that his teeth didn’t shatter from the force alone. The marvel quickly shifts to panic as a steel-toed boot slams into his side, undoubtedly cracking ribs and leaving him completely breathless. It’s an attack that’s as practical as it is cathartic—a traitor can’t shout for help if he can’t draw breath, after all.

Kieran just barely manages to suck in some air before another kick lands, this time aimed at the pit of his stomach and with enough strength to shock his entire body. He cries out, prompting another laugh from his assailants, and his vision starts to feather at the edges. He wonders if maybe he'll slip into unconsciousness before they kill him. That'd be nice. Unfortunately, 'nice' is in short supply when it comes to the O'Driscoll gang, and Kieran is fairly certain it's already been spent between the four of them present.

"Did you really think you could hide from us forever, boy?"

Make that five.

He'd heard that line before, repeated over and over again in his nightmares. It was the same thing those nanites, or whatever Peter called them, growled at Kieran when they'd taken Colm's image months ago. That could be what's happening here and now, but Kieran can't be sure, and he's a bit too preoccupied to try to find out. One of the men grabs his hair by the small ponytail he's started to grow out and drags him to his unsteady feet. Another one of his attackers holds his arms behind his back. Between the first O'Driscoll keeping his head still, the second holding him firm, and the other two standing menacingly off to the sides, Kieran knows he can't escape. His newly regained breathing grows rapid as Colm approaches, knife already in his hand.

"Relax. I ain't gonna kill you. Not yet, at least."

Kieran knows that all too well, and he tries to respond in kind, but his throat won't work right. All he can muster is a weak grunt as Colm holds the blade up to his face.

"Should I go after that tongue of yours? Be mighty poetic, wouldn't it. Cuttin' out someone's tongue after they went and ratted you out..."

"I didn't have any cho—!"

It's stupid to try and refute that kind of an accusation, regardless of the circumstances. Colm makes sure to remind Kieran about that particular rule with a hard strike across his face. Kieran cries out again, but it's cut short by a strong hand grasping at his jaw and lifting his head again. Disoriented, Kieran can't help but try to focus on the first thing that catches his eyes. As luck would have it, his gaze locks with Colm's, fiery with pure rage.

"...Hold 'im still. I just got an idea."

The next few long minutes play out almost exactly as Kieran remembers them from back home. He throws as much of his remaining strength into trying to fight against the combined muscle of four burly cowboys, but it's not nearly enough. It wouldn't have been enough even if he hadn't already been battered and bruised to hell. As they keep him still, Kieran can hear himself quietly begging and praying for mercy from anyone who would listen. The last thing he can clearly see is the glint of a blade arching down towards his eyes and the cold visage of a methodical man fueled by hatred and vitriol only found in legends.

It's then that Kieran finds his voice, and he screams.

--

[WILDCARD]

[DO YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING HAPPY? BECAUSE I AM SO DOWN FOR SOMETHING HAPPY.]

Edited 2019-10-30 04:24 (UTC)

The Festival of Goop is weird and lovely to Cole.

He talks to the robots like they're giving him responses no one else can hear (they might be) and he accepts anything they give him, only to gift it to someone else, or another robot shortly after. He hasn't really eaten any of it; despite his foray into ice cream with Ben, he hasn't actually tried eating anything since then.

He mostly drifts around, enjoying people being... if not happy, at least confused and bemused rather than outright upset. His fingers are sticky from handling goods and he's sitting under a tree, talking to it about being tapped for syrup.

❄ Familiar Ground

[It isn't just real places that arrive in the shift inside the city, it seems, but also places that exist only in the dreams. Then again, this particular place feels real enough to Onni that it might as well be home, and it's true enough that the things that happen here are real to all the people participating.

Anyone walking past the edge of the park will find that it seems to keep going further than usual, that there's a place at the edge where moving through a light fog will lead you into a more open space. The colours are different here, more muted, and the terrain is different. The trees are closer together and as far as the eye can see, they crowd close together until they touch the sky at the horizon. After walking down a slight incline, the shores of a calm lake come into view, edged with ancient moss-coated boulders. On a strong, narrow tree that sits alone between copses, a large Eurasian Eagle Owl sits on a gnarled tree branch, eyes closed, the feathers around his neck fluffed out.

You'd be forgiven for thinking this is a normal owl in a normal Finnish forest, but anyone who approaches may be in for a bit of a surprise, as the owl lazily opens one eye to peer at anyone approaching, and makes a deep, put-upon, and very human sigh.]

What is it you want?

[OOC: A visual reference for Onni's dreamspace can be found here!]

Edited 2019-11-03 21:20 (UTC)

[ Brackets or prose welcome! Ami's first impressions post is here. ]

1. everybody must get stoooooned

It doesn't take much robo-hassling to convince Ami to check out a party! Especially once she discovers something important about the eponymous Goop: the fact that it is fucking delicious.

Needless to say, she tries a little of everything. Cakes! Bonbons! Goop candied alien fruits! And she really enjoys the hot sap cider, even going back for seconds. By the time she realizes it might be some kind of intoxicant, she is far too blitzed to care.

So for much of the festival, the Tiny-Goth-In-Residence will just be lazily drifting from place to place, person to person, with half-lidded eyes and a wide, dopey-looking grin. If you're someone she's fond of (aka anyone she has ever had a non-negative interaction with), she will probably greet you with a hug.

"Heeeeey! How you doin'?"

2. dreamers and the dead

The euphoria only lasts as long as the festival, though. For one thing, she'll be spending the next several days incredibly embarrassed about her behavior there, and giving some serious thought to becoming a hermit forever. But also... thanks to that mini-Redshift, things are starting to go a little bit fucky.

Late one night, as she's coming back from the mess hall with a bowl of leftover casserole, she suddenly finds that she has no idea where she is.

Ami stops in her tracks, confused. It's true that Anchor's hallways all look pretty samey, but ... the mess hall is like, two minutes from her room. She's walked to and from there hundreds of times, she knows this part of the station like the back of her hand. How is she lost?

She tries to backtrack, but it's no use. All the corridors seem to lead in circles, upside down and inside out and looping in on themselves in impossible ways, and before long she's gone from lost to hopelessly lost. Where is she? Where's her room? Why is this happening? She's walked past these orange pipes twice already, she knows it!

And then she hits a dead end... but it's not a true dead end, she realizes, stepping closer. Instead, the hall is fully blocked by a sort of membrane - gently convex, gently shimmering, gently unearthly. It's almost transparent - and though she can't quite make out what's on the other side, this all seems somehow familiar...

Uncertain, she reaches out, and the surface ripples hypnotically where her fingers brush the surface. The membrane won't break, but there's almost no resistance. She could just... go through.

... Well, why not? It sure beats going in mobius circles for another half an hour, doesn't it? Her casserole's getting cold. Holding her breath, Ami closes her eyes and steps inside.

[ The mini-Redshift has brought with it a dream bubble. Like the Redshift itself, a dream bubble allows you to revisit locations and events from your past; but unlike the Redshift, it actively responds to thought and memory, resulting in a constantly shifting environment. Typically, interactions in dream bubbles begin with a mutual memory - i.e. reenacting a scene that's already happened, but with slight changes as the participants realize they've already done this. Once they figure out it isn't real, what happens next is up to them. They can visit any memory they want - or that they happen to think of sideways without meaning to! Dream bubbles are notoriously difficult to steer.

There are two ways to enter the bubble: 1. physically passing through its outer membrane while awake (like Ami did), or 2. mentally, while asleep. If awake, you can leave the same way you entered, but you can also die for real. If asleep, dying will merely cause you to disappear from the dream bubble and wake up unharmed, but you can't pass through the membrane.

For questions or an individual prompt hmu at Kae#6067 on Discord or

caturday! ]

[ Brackets or prose welcome! ]

01 | inspect( mysteryGoop ); pause();

Why is it that Anchor can't go a fortnight without some irritating robot malfunction or other? Qubit would really like to hear the answer to that one. At least they're not shooting at anyone this time, though.

Even though they've shut down most of the amenities, this is really only a minor inconvenience to him. By now, he's gotten his remote shutdown switch closer to 90% effectiveness - but even if that fails, he's gotten quite adept at disconnecting their batteries with his powers.

After making sure that certain vital areas will remain open - like, you know, the Medbay - he decides to go check out the Goop Festival itself. At a glance it seems fairly innocuous, but he can still be found taking samples early in the day, just to make sure this crap isn't toxic. Once he's confirmed that to his satisfaction, however - well, there's no harm in trying a bit of it himself, is there? You know, for science.

So, blink and you'll miss it, but Qubit actually sticks around for a couple hours, and... genuinely lets himself relax. He takes care not to overdo his intake, being well aware it's a mild intoxicant, but he does spend most of his time there holding a cup of hot sap that he sort of nurses throughout.

And yeah, part of him feels guilty for hanging out here when he's still got so much work to do, but that's par for the course anytime he does something for himself. So.

02 | Lab.access.revoke( user="Parker" );    // for Peter

Once he's had his fill of celebrating nothing in particular, though, Qubit of course heads back to R&D, casually shutting off the robot that tries to block his path. But... hm. Maybe it's the mild intoxicant talking, but he's got an idea.

(And the only thing more dangerous than Qubit with an idea is Drunk Qubit with an idea. ~~okay he's not really drunk but, maybe shut up?~~)

Whenever Peter arrives at R&D, there will be no fewer than eight robots blocking the entrance. A couple of which are security bots. And they all greet him with their standard Goop Festival spiel at the same time, albeit sliiightly out of sync, just enough to be really, really irritating.

How badly do you want to go to work today, Parker? Ask yourself, really ask yourself: is it worth it?

03 | Redshift.generateLocale( fortressOfIsolation );  // cw: blood, dead children

When the little Redshift hits, it draws in a sliver of Qubit's homeworld, too. You'll know you're close when you start to feel the heat.

It's not quite unbearable heat, but it is oppressive, the kind of heat that makes a normal person break a sweat immediately, makes the air heavy and hard to breathe. There are some windows, with an intense orange light shining through - because on the other side there's only lava and volcanic rock. The low roar of the volcano is constant, drowning out any more distant sounds.

The fortress isn't here in its entirety, but there are several points of interest. One is the throne, accented with flame, located atop a steep dais, its sharp lines stark against the rough-hewn wall. And as if it didn't look ominous enough on its own, the armrests are stained with human blood.

The second is the playroom. It's decorated in bright colors and full of toys and books, like a kindergarten or day care, though of course it's still hot as hell. There are even children here, a good dozen or two of them - but they're all dead. The little skeletons are dressed up and posed as if playing or reading or napping, but they'll never do any of those again.

Not far from that - maybe even adjacent to the playroom, if spacetime is behaving - is a room with a group portrait framed on the wall. The room itself is trashed, with its decor strewn all over, fist-sized holes punched in the walls, and a huge "X" carved over the portrait itself. The man standing in the center, blond and muscular, wears the same symbol that was found on the throne.

The man on the far right is Qubit.

[ Feel free to either prompt something, or to just use these locations in your own threads as desired! As always, hmu at Kae#6067 on Discord or

caturday for plotting or indiv. prompts. ]

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

allison hargreeves // the umbrella academy // direct from canon

Scaramouche | Samurai Jack | currently in-game

A. Don't Be A Sap

Wildcard

Carlisle Longinmouth | Original | In-Game