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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 befunny 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.
▶ 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
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.
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.
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.
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.
Whatever the reason, the network is going strong, so feel free to include a post to it in your top-levels.
Scaramouche | Samurai Jack | in-game
The formal announcement of his name, the riotous reception, and the sight of his own image lighting up the dome above them are all unexpected, but they're a welcome surprise. What better way to kick off this little shindig than to celebrate Scaramouche? His expression undergoes a sudden shift from out-and-out dumbfoundment to childlike glee in two seconds flat, the tension in his stance melting away as he obliges his audience with a deep bow, sweeping off his hat with a wave and a flourish. The servant bots have always waited on them hand and foot and he knows this is more of the same, but that makes it all the more entertaining to him. He struts along the runway, preening in the spotlight; he knows how to hold the stage!
With the sound of applause still ringing in his sensors, there's an unmistakable spring in his step going forward. After circling the tables to inspect everything, he swings by the drinks counter, grinning widely when he's handed a drinks menu!
"Well, whaddaya know? These bot-brains can throw a party!" He's talking to himself, but his voice carries--anybody nearby could hear it and join in.
Eventually, the band picks up, signaling the first few moments of the light show. "They really went all out." His luminescent gaze descends from the spectacle and rakes over the heads of the party-goers and their bot attendants, staring at the archways leading out to the presumably empty halls of Anchor. Taking a distracted sip of his fluorescent cocktail, he turns and sidesteps behind the small cluster of onlookers, his optics flicking up again to the presentation before falling in a zigzag across the atrium. All those walkways going unpatrolled...
He wonders.
Once the music returns, so does his partial attention on the residents around him in all their glamour. He skirts the edge of the dance floor with an unhurried stride, occasionally casting a suspicious glance at the surrounding area while he scats along to the beat.
[ooc: Feel free to pick any time/place at the party to interact with him! Will match format!]
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Still, it's somewhat entertaining when someone else comes in and shit just pops off, so he gives this flashily dressed robo-bro a little golf clap once his introduction is complete.
"Way to ham it up. / I don't get the point of this, / but it's fun to watch."
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"I've got news for you, babe: that is the point."
The grin fades all of a sudden as something occurs to him.
"Hey, why'd you skip the line?" But then the smile is back in all its glory. "Get out there, babe!"
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He's already here, there's no sense in leaving only to come back in. Though it does make him wonder if it would happen again if someone were to just pop out to take a piss and come back.
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Scaramouche sends a limp-wristed gesture his way.
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"Sense of showmanship? / Mine's bloody and violent, / not fit for these chumps."
He could roll in and start chopping heads off just to look cool, but not many people would appreciate that, he thinks.
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He might have an idea.
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"Bloody hell," He breathes. He's never seen a robot that big. Before he'd arrived in Anchor, he'd never seen a robot at all. And certainly not one as well attired as this giant is. In a familiar style of suit too, but clearly the robotic tailors had reused a couple of patterns here and there.
He recovers himself a little bit- robots, werewolves, girls with deer horns and hooves. He can get used to lots of things. It's even easier when there's beer.
"They've... never done this before?" He glances at the banner, and supposes not. "I wonder where they got the idea from."
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"Who knew they had it in them!?" He shakes his head. "Not me, babe."
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"As long as they keep the good booze flowing." Jacob says, because that bar has held a lot of his attention so far this evening too. "They can throw a party like this every other week if they like."
Just as long as he never has to drink another tequila sunset as long as he lives.
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Scaramouche shoots a meaningless glance at the man, ready to return his full attention to the drinks menu in his hand, but then he's doing a double-take, giving those familiar duds a pointed once-over.
"Say, what's the idea?"
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"Clearly they only give these suits to the most handsome men in Anchor."
And they look good. Neither of them had a say at what was delivered to them after all, and Jacob would never purposefully copy someone else.
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"You think this party's big enough for the two of us?"
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"I think so. Unless terrifying monsters from beyond the veil arrive, I'm not planning in making much of a fuss tonight. Robots will have more than enough to clean up anyway."
I'm not planning in making much of a fuss tonight . Famous last words.
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His gaze flicks down to his menu for just a second longer. Once he's given the bot his order, he turns again to look at the man with an untroubled smile, offering him the list without hesitation.
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After all, its only one night.
So he glances over the list and then grins one of his charming little grins. "I'll have what you're having."
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She slides into a seat next to Scaramouche and picks up a drinks menu, browsing it as if she doesn't already know most of the things that are on it.
Julie orders another strawberry daiquari.
"I think I might have broken him when I walked in with an empty fish tank. I think it was a fish tank."
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"Keep up the good work, babe. He'll be filling the lake in no time." He drops the menu on the counter. "Did you know, babe," he continues, turning in his stool, "that the reindeer drink tequila?"
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"I heard a rumour," the young woman says, resting her chin on one hand and pulling her drink towards her with the other.
"Haven't seen it yet, though."
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"Who's gonna serve them while the bar bot takes five?"
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"Dunno. Have you seen the size of them? We might have to post a fucking guard on the bar."
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He pulls his teasing grin away, straightening in his seat and waving a hand around as he goes on.
"Let them have their fun. That'll teach that rookie not to play hooky."
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She shrugs one shoulder, but she can't wipe the smirk off her face at the mental image of it.
"I wonder where he's gone. Where do the 'bots go for R and R in this place?"
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"You're asking me?"
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She gestures around them. Admittedly, there are people around... but no one else within earshot. Her attention follows the bar bot while it makes her drink.
"I've looked around, but I don't know where they go when they're not... doing whatever it is they do."
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