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Mods ([personal profile] modblob) wrote in [community profile] redmarsshit2020-04-27 08:43 pm
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test drive meme: april 2020

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.

▶ SPECIAL NOTE: We're only a month off from the 1 year anniversary of the first TDM, and we received this request for a fancy dress ball, so we thought it would be funny fun to run with it! This TDM will only have one prompt/event, as the monthly log with a bit more plot-related stuff will be going up on Friday May 1st.

a. an invitation.

There are ears everywhere in Anchor. A maintenance bot here, a surveillance AI there. SINI, restlessly pacing the dark digital hallways as she watches over the things that still matter to her. It doesn't take long for word to get out about Starscream's expedition plans. It takes an even shorter time for that news to circulate amongst Anchor's robo-population.

They know when you're unhappy. They always know.

It's why residents will start waking up one fine day to find gorgeous clothes laid out for them to wear and an invitation to a formal dinner taking place down at the plaza at Anchor’s base. The clothes aren't particularly specific to a character's gender, species, or culture - it's all about what the bots think your character would like best. Even if they're wildly off the mark, the clothes are still made to fit and fashioned beautifully. The invitations are marked "TOMORROW, STARTING AT 6PM LOCAL TIME." A smaller note underneath instructs attendees to see the tailor bot adjacent to the spa if they are unsatisfied with their assigned clothing, and also that the spa bots are on high alert, prepared to beautify anyone who wants some extra pampering and a dash of makeup.

Just be careful. Some of the makeover bots are really fond of glitter.


b. quite the spread.

True to the word of the invitation, the plaza is closed off under large white tents and guarded by bots who encouragingly steer you elsewhere should you try to get inside. They're nice, polite, all the things they've been programmed to be whether they like it or not, but there will be no sneaking by them into the party area.

At 6pm on the dot the day after the clothes arrive, characters will find music playing on all levels of Anchor, broadcast from the musical robots who have been practicing ever since that first tiny party almost a year ago.

Invitations will be taken by a bot in an impeccably tailored suit, and characters will be welcomed onto the red carpet that curves around the edge of the park and into the area cordoned off for festivities. The flashbulbs and cheering of bots that line the carpet echo through Anchor, broadcast along with the music until it sounds like the entire place is full of faintly electronic cheering. Each arrival is greeted with a fresh wave of enthusiasm, their image projected larger than life against the interior of Anchor's dome.

The sides of the tents have been rolled up, revealing the absolutely decadent set-up within.

Rows upon rows of buffet tables laid out with the most extravagant and strange dishes for residents to try. All of it delicious, though not all of it will appeal to every palate. There are sweet dishes, savory, spicy, whatever you can imagine. Appetizers of a hundred different kinds. Fruit plates formed into works of art, showing places and events from around Anchor. There are spun sugar reindire. Tiny plates of hors d'oeuvres that depict the faces of residents, both current and former. One particularly large dish is sculpted in the shape of what looks like an explosion emanating from Anchor's base, near where the locked and flooded rooms were found.

There's a cake near the middle of it all, frosting painting an image of a young, smiling man. Anyone who's seen him will, after a moment, recognize the whole and handsome features of a much younger Creepy Joe - the words on the cake say LET'S CELEBRATE OUR OLDEST LIVING RESIDENT!

While most of the food is at least recognizably from the general stores and from the agricultural level, there are other plants and garnishes that look entirely foreign. If asked where they came from, the bots will simply insist they're part of Anchor’s available resources.

There is also a full-service bar, but...not manned by the usual bartender (for anyone who might ask, the other bots will kindly inform them that the usual bartender is on sabbatical for stress). Instead there's a freshly-built bot serving drinks of all kinds, taking requests for old favorites and mixing up new cocktails based on guests' stated tastes.

The only thing not on the menu is a tequila sunrise.

There's a table full of hookahs and little treats that have various light, pleasant effects. These range from simple mood lifts to treats that will leave characters blissed out and relaxed.


c. dance, our residents, dance!

After people have finished arriving, the band picks up and guests' attention is directed upward toward Anchor's dome, where there's a truly magnificent light show being projected with musical accompaniment. It's spectacular, haunting and beautiful...and it shows more than just lights. It also shows celestial bodies in motion across the planet's dusk-red sky, meteor showers, strange northern lights. The show itself is almost an hour long, and ends with words unfurling across the apex of the dome.


HAPPY +1 ANNIVERSARY ANCHOR #3, THE LONGEST RUNNING COLONY.

STAY HERE, STAY HAPPY!



The show fades away and the music picks up again, encouraging guests to dance.

Go on, dance.

It’s a party after all.


d. the network.

Need to get hold of someone, call for help, ask the city at large a question? Need to ask a friend to back you up to take out the toothy voids? 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.



birdical: (💋 (find a little in me))

[personal profile] birdical 2020-05-09 07:46 am (UTC)(link)
Elleru will be rocking this number for maximum leg, as well as a matching crown made of paper flowers for her hair. No shoes, though. When you're as tall as she is, you don't need the extra height and shoes are for upright schmucks.
birdical: (💋 (something about the open road))

Elleru 🐦 Original

[personal profile] birdical 2020-05-09 08:27 am (UTC)(link)
Elleru is thrilled with this party.

It's not that there haven't been festivals and gatherings in Anchor before; this is not the first time the little robots have set up banners and tables, serving each and every guest to their heart's delight, trying to create a welcoming atmosphere of communal celebration. This is, however, the first time they've doled out fancy clothes for the occasion, and Elleru could not be more charmed by the gesture. The outfit they chose for her, while not what she'd normally gravitate toward in terms of color, fits wonderfully, hugging her every curve as she saunters into the plaza.

The food table is just as enchanting. She marvels at the candy reindire, squawks with glee when she spots an hors d'oeuvre with her own face on it. Grabbing a plate, she gathers up a few of the ones that resemble her friends, determined to deliver them herself to ensure they see (and appreciate) the effort the robots went to. More importantly, she wants to see what said friends will be wearing — after all, if she looks this good, surely they look even better.

And after she's made some deliveries, she's hitting the dance floor, eager to make the most of the night. If she's not reaching for the nearest hand, hoping to either find a willing dance partner or convince someone to be one, she's enjoying twirling on the floor, her long dress flowing around her like clouds in the breeze.

[OOC: Feel free to either hit me up at [plurk.com profile] grimmhooke or find her wherever at the party, and I'll roll with it!]
birdical: (💋 (for a while till you lost me))

[closed to Qubit]

[personal profile] birdical 2020-05-09 08:33 am (UTC)(link)
[As Elleru makes her rounds of the plaza, she spots the robots at the entrance accosting someone trying to gain entry, blocking their passage into the party. Oh, that won't do at all, Elleru thinks to herself — if someone wants to come have a good time, they should clearly be allowed. Nearly everyone in Anchor is here, and missing out on such an event would be truly tragic, especially when so many of them opted to get gussied up for the occasion.

She sees what the problem is as she gets closer: it's not just someone being barred from entry, but Qubit, and his problem seems to be that he showed up in his regular clothing.]


Qubit [still key-U-beet], hello! [She pushes the little bots out of the way with her foot as they beep in protest.] Were you not given an outfit to wear?
seaboard: (through another song)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Not at all, I would be delighted for the company." With her hand settling into his with a light, cool touch that brushes in an almost damp way - not in the way of a sweaty palm but a fresh spray that lingers in a sharp breeze.

"How would you have me stand for this?"
seaboard: (you know that I would jump too)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:33 am (UTC)(link)
"I am quite relieved to hear you say so."

It isn't sarcastic - she visibly is so, even as she takes another peek at them over his shoulder, her face in profile to his with that soft breath, way up high. This close, the soft scent of the sea lingers, and rather than a clinging warmth, she is cool against his side as she holds to look.

"I... I suppose they are quite pretty, are they not?"

And once more, wholeheartedly, she looks to him for confirmation.
seaboard: (I am your dope)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:39 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, at last, a proper form. All of these people just spoke! And no one introduced anyone! ( How was she supposed to make heads or tails of the order she needed to place herself when they just went about it at any angle? )

There is a familiarity with that to take away her other concerns now that he does something she understands, with a poise reserved for just this, she sinks down in a bow of her head and a curtsey of her legs, her stiff dress pooling and the long strands swaying about her head.

"I am Gilia St. Loe." Said Sinlow rather contrary to how it was spelt, but she didn't decide that. "Th... Second-Child, First-daughter of the Isle St. Loe. It is a great pleasure to greet you, Cloud. Where do you hail from?"
seaboard: (the crunching of your teeth)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:42 am (UTC)(link)
She is not at all - and that he does, it only endears her to him. She is not very good at it either, and she was supposed to be. Had people counting on her to be.

So her smile may be timid, but it is there and it is an honest one.

"Are you enjoying yourself this evening?"
seaboard: (you should have left me)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:45 am (UTC)(link)
Gilia looks towards the pipe that he indicates, and then back to his face, with a little shake of her head.

"I am afraid I do not know what it is at all. I was just looking to... to... sit somewhere quietly."

Oh Gilia, have you ever been interested in anything in your life? Why yes, yes she had, Brother-Dear. Her interests had left her safe and sound.
seaboard: (I'll be your mermaid)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-09 11:58 am (UTC)(link)
This is very good news! She likes to be liked. But in that sedate, let us sit quietly and read scripture and maybe we can get a little wild later and do some fancy sewing, kind of way.

"Only for festivals and state occasions. But I must always wear something like that, it is as my position dictates."
aintyourbro: (Cold Stroganoff)

[personal profile] aintyourbro 2020-05-09 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
This lady is way fancier than Cloud is, some kinda nobility, he guesses. Or maybe that's just how people are where she's from. He doesn't make any move to also be fancy, but he does give her a nod and stand up a little straighter.

He's never heard of wherever she's from, but hey, it's a big world. Interesting that she and the island or whatever that she's from share a name, maybe her family founded it or something? He's not going to pry into the life of some lady he just met, but maybe he can ask her about it later.

"Nibelheim," he says, about to just leave it at that, but it seems a little... short and blunt compared to her introduction? Is that rude? He doesn't really care, but he has a feeling that it's something Tifa would be annoyed at him for if he just left it at that. "I'm not really settled down anywhere right now, though."
writtendestiny: (106)

[personal profile] writtendestiny 2020-05-09 05:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Poison will - slightly uncomfortably - be showing up in this. How d'ya like ya girl, Peter.

She will have also been coaxed into putting her hair up, so there's no hiding behind it.
redwinekindofgirl: (Default)

[personal profile] redwinekindofgirl 2020-05-09 05:15 pm (UTC)(link)
Julie isn't really a fan of this but will be eventually pressed into this, and only because it has pockets. There isn't much to be done with her hair, so it's been left more or less natural.
macaire: (Default)

[personal profile] macaire 2020-05-09 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Ah yes, dancing no doubt differs here, like it does from country to country. Why should world to world be any different?

"Where I am from, dear lady, the joined hands are held out here, and the lady's hand rests on the gentleman's shoulder." He offers, "And the gentleman's hand in the lady's back. Then it is just a matter of following the steps. How is it done where you hail from?"
livingdeadgirl: (think 1 (eyes/horns))

[personal profile] livingdeadgirl 2020-05-10 03:22 am (UTC)(link)
Ami shakes her head. "Worse than that. Like I said, we don't know for sure, but it looks like it was a combination of things."

They've reached the elevator by now (one of the ones that works, even!) and she presses the button to call it. There's a clunk from somewhere, but it always makes that noise when it starts up, so she's not too concerned.

"We know there was an armed conflict at some point. A lot of people died. But that's only the end of the story. The terminal symptom." She laces her fingers behind her back, pensively watching the elevator's progress bar fill up. "Whatever the actual cause was... it seems to have come from below."
fishermansweater: (Laughing)

Finnick Odair | The Hunger Games | OTA

[personal profile] fishermansweater 2020-05-10 12:58 pm (UTC)(link)
a.

He's not going to say no to a party.

There are circumstances in which he might, of course, but he learned a long time ago to take whatever enjoyment he could out of parties thrown by people who would probably be happy to see him dead and definitely wanted to do him harm. That had been a regular feature of his life as a victor. But there'd been a headiness about it: the food, the drink, the adulation of his admirers, and of course, the various other things that the denizens of the Capitol used to have fun. He'd done all of them, and on his better days, he'd managed to enjoy himself, at least until he'd gotten involved with whichever patron he'd been ordered to entertain.

Here there are no patrons.

There may be the constant ever-itching sense of danger in the back of his mind, the uncertainty about what the bots and the other people in this place want, but he's used to dealing with Snow, Gamemakers, and the fear of knowing Annie was always a hostage for his behavior. At least here he's free from Snow, and there are no patrons. Here, he's been able to genuinely enjoy himself when the bots have thrown their parties.

Besides, it's still thrilling to get to take Annie as his date to a party.

So he plans to enjoy himself, and that starts with getting styled. Not that the spa bots have any of the talent of his stylist or prep team, but he's willing to give them a chance.

So late in the afternoon, Finnick can be found at the spa, seated in front of one of the bots and watching it work in a mirror. It's a look that matches the gold of the suit he's been provided, with swirls drawn across his cheeks and accented in green, with gold glitter as an accent. More than an accent, even. Quite a lot of gold glitter.

Finnick is obviously pleased with the look, grinning in the mirror as he gets up and swiping a container of glitter.

"In case I need a touch up."

As he's on his way out, he'll pause by anyone else getting made over by the bots.

"You really should consider glitter."


b.

There haven't been many opportunities to really shine here. He's a beautiful man at any time, but he's always loved to accentuate his natural looks with makeup and beautiful clothes and when that combines with the delight of being at a party without the pressures of the Capitol, he really does shine. Literally, from his jacket and his glitter, but mostly from the brilliance of his smile and the brightness of his whole being as he walks in with his arm around Annie's waist, as he swirls around the dance floor with her, and as he collects glasses of champagne from the bar.

"Champagne. Finally something that's not tequila."

He offers out a glass to a passer-by. "Champagne?"

When their attention is all drawn to the dome, it doesn't take as long as he expects to shake the feeling that he's about to see the photographs of tributes floating above them, and to sink into enjoyment of the astronomical show. He spends the whole rest of the show staring in delight up at the dome, except for the moments when he sneaks glances across to his wife to watch her delighted reactions.

When the celebratory text scrolls out across the dome and the lights go up, he pulls the glitter out of his pocket and unscrews the cap and grabs a pinch. He tosses it towards Annie, so that it settles in her hair and on her dress. Then, laughing, he grabs another pinch and tosses it into the air.

He's not sorry if it got you.
Edited 2020-05-10 12:59 (UTC)
seaboard: (might help you sleep)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-10 02:04 pm (UTC)(link)
"Where is Nibelheim? What spirits come from there?"

She doesn't think it rude, it seems, she is used to her own directions being dictated to her in some way or form, and those tended to be short, sharp prompts, that with the pieces there that she needs to follow along with.

"Forgive me, I have not heard of it before. Is it one of the Ring Islands?"
seaboard: (cut off the rope)

[personal profile] seaboard 2020-05-10 02:08 pm (UTC)(link)
"Of course." She settles as he prompts, moving that few inches closer so she could settle. Tall for a woman, but then everyone in her family was, so she could meet his gaze evenly.

"We stand in rows, hand in hand, and move in groups together. Or we dance for the Father-Sea. But it has no form, we dance as the sea dances. I cannot do that with someone not of our Isle."
circumspector: (xxiii » singing when you're told)

[personal profile] circumspector 2020-05-10 02:17 pm (UTC)(link)
"Better." Her fingers thread through his to lift it up to her lips so she can kiss the back of his knuckles. The gold light reflecting and shimmering on his warm skin. "You're my prince."

Which she knows how bad that sounds, cheesy like a bad echo-show, and she can't finish it with a straight face. Giggling madly as she hides her face against his hand.

"I'll get you a crown."
circumspector: (xxv » damask and dark)

[personal profile] circumspector 2020-05-10 02:22 pm (UTC)(link)
As long as she is wanted for scritching, there she will stay - like many a drunk girl before her, she is all in awe. 'Ohhh, you're so soft, aren't you? So, so, soft. I'm going to nom on your ear! Yes I am!'

But Charles distracts her out of her petting. "Yes. Everyone looks so pretty. I let the robots do what they want, so they covered me in glitter. It's so nice."
writtendestiny: (014)

Poison | Poison | OTA - IN GAME

[personal profile] writtendestiny 2020-05-10 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
b. quite the spread. - i
I'm not sure about this...

[Poison had braved the dress which had been laid out for her and had put her hair up before venturing to this event, but she doesn't look entirely comfortable with any of it. Not even a little comfortable, in fact. She doesn't recall the last time she put on a dress, and she's certainly never worn one like this.

She hangs back at the top of the red carpet, looking for someone familiar to walk down with. Never normally afraid of anything, she doesn't much like the idea of all that attention being on her all at once.
]

Maybe I should just... go...

b. quite the spread. - ii
[Eventually, she finds her way inside and at least she doesn't feel out of place in here with the dress she has on. Everyone else looks dressed to the nines as well, and she settles into the swing of things with the air of someone who doesn't quite fit in but is certainly doing their best.

She hovers at the edge of the tent, her back almost to the wall, and barely-smiles at anyone who happens to look her way.

Poison does try the food, though, putting small portions of the things she finds interesting on her plate and peering at those things that look a bit too interesting for her to try on an empty stomach.
]

What do you suppose that is? [She asks the person beside her, indicating a bowl of worm-like things which...

are they moving????
]

b. quite the spread. - iii
[The photograph on the cake looks familiar. Poison takes a photo of it before anyone can cut into it, and tucks her phone back into her bag.]

That looks like Joe.

[Joe, if he didn't have that creepy parasite in his eye. If he was younger. She looks around -- is he here?]

... What is this party for?

c. dance, our residents, dance!
[After the light show, the young woman isn't interested in dancing. She's interested in that very significant number written across the dome. She frowns at it, clenching her fists loosely beside her, and it's only the 'gentle encouragement' of one of the bots that keeps her from leaving as the music begins to pick up.

So she doesn't leave, but instead stays seated with a thoughtful expression on her face, occasionally fidgeting with a drink on the table. When she senses someone lingering by her, she doesn't look up, but speaks--
]

I don't dance. Ask someone else.
theweakhavepurpose: (Not okay)

[personal profile] theweakhavepurpose 2020-05-10 08:58 pm (UTC)(link)
"I didn't say it wasn't true, just that you shouldn't listen to me." Which seems like a stupid clarification to make, but he can't help himself.

"Yeah we don't have this shit back home either. I mean there's robots but not like this. They're not... trying to be people? They're mostly arms in factories making cars and shit."

Nope he has not deduced that this fancy-pants person is probably from a lot earlier than he is.
macaire: (002)

[personal profile] macaire 2020-05-10 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)
A man who did not think he was worth listening to, who did not stop to think before he spoke, was a man worth knowing. Of course, one would have to listen to no small amount of prattle, but there would no doubt be diamonds within the rough.

"I have heard this turn of phrase before, cars," He muses, "What are they? Some sort of product, I imagine? Smelted or woven? One of those newly discovered chemical compounds?" Are they something found here, or something this gentleman recalls from home? It may be nothing of interest at all, or some consequence, and he would very much like to know.
itsnotaonesie: (154)

C

[personal profile] itsnotaonesie 2020-05-10 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[Meanwhile Peter's been hanging around nearby-ish, trying to decide if he even wants to go into this thing for a while. He's not so sure he does, even if the bots have already dressed his goofy ass up for the occasion, so he's got his phone out and he's about to shoot Poison a message to see what she wants to do.

Except that it turns out she's already here. He looks up from his phone and just stares for a moment, before snapping a picture with his phone.]


Wow. That's about all he's got at the moment, just wow.]
theweakhavepurpose: (Considering)

[personal profile] theweakhavepurpose 2020-05-10 11:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Well that answers that question.

"No they're vehicles. Transportation. And uh.. metal? A box with chairs on wheels to get you places." This is hard, he's kind of a car aficionado so reducing them down to: metal buckets with wheels; is really hard when he wants to talk about rotary engines and carbon fiber and air intakes.

"Do you use horses?" Because he's a fan of horses, another safe topic that isn't how he thinks people are inherently monsters and should be eradicated.
aintyourbro: (8jupFEu)

[personal profile] aintyourbro 2020-05-11 12:21 am (UTC)(link)
Cloud arches a brow and glances in Ami's direction, but since that totally concerning elevator noise doesn't seem to be bothering her at all, he won't worry about it.

"Below as in something dug it's way in and attacked them, or was someone was keeping something there and it got free?"

He's not asking so much as he's just tossing out possibilities. His first thoughts are monster attacks or mad science experiments gone wrong, neither scenario sounds super great to him.

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