redmarsshit | test drive meme: april 2020

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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.

Navigation.

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She never really like this many people, mot for extended periods of time. Because truth be told, she would rather be in the solar, making the best of the morning sunlight, stitching her brother's clothes up.

But that wasn't to be there, any more than it was here. They had been invited, and it would be so dreadfully rude to turn down an invitation, she could hear her Mother's lecture if she did. So she goes, and does her best for as long as she can, but she needs a break when everything is so painful new - because rather foolishly, she does take everything at face value. It is so very thoughtful for them to take such care of them. What an honour, too, no doubt.

Just - wanted a second, on this nice piece of railing in the half light to take off this very heavy headpiece.

When she finds herself suddenly with company, she yelps like a mouse someone didn't happen to notice on the floor. Oh, Spirits, what was a woman to do?

And she feels dreadfully exposed like this. She snatches up the hat, and holds it in front of the lower part of her face as she steps back from him, wide-eyed.

"Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude."

He hears her before he sees her, his hand instinctively shooting up toward the hilt of his sword. He's quick to realize that it's just some fancy lady and not like, some kind of killer robot or whatever though, but then he's left with his hand awkwardly hovering in the air for a moment before he attempts to save it by running his fingers through his hair instead. Nailed it, she's totally convinced that he's not about to cleave her in half, right? Whatever.

"No, it's okay. Pretty sure you were here first, anyway."

Even if she wasn't, it's not like this area was private. Still, he takes a couple steps back of his own, his gaze falling on the massive headpiece she's holding. Is now a weird time to strike up a conversation? I mean, probably, but maybe she knows something about this place, who knows.

"That looks like it weighs a ton. Did the robots make you wear it?"

Why were so many people so scary?

She missed home.

But his hand goes back to his side, away from that truly impressive sword with an uneasy sigh and rolls her shoulders back into a more comfortable posture - which isn't really. She is still held like a sculpture, back straight, head back, gaze averted from direct contact.

"It was provided to me as dress for this evening, yes, and I am most grateful for their generosity. My Mother's Mother had a piece much like it."

He can't help it, he's just got one of those resting bitch faces. And a giant sword.

She's looking a little awkward averting her gaze like that, so Cloud's just going to make this a little easier and look over the side of the railing at the party below.

"Generosity, right," he says, sounding just a bit skeptical. He can't imagine these robots or whoever runs this place is doing all this out of the goodness of their hearts, there has to be some kind of ulterior motive. Unfortunately, he hasn't been here nearly long enough to even begin to piece together what that might be.

"Looks like they dressed everyone up," except for him, anyway. He wasn't even a little bit interested. "Any idea what this party's actually for?"

Gilia looks down and then back up - well the party was a party, wasn't that the reason for it all by itself? People liked parties, and it's nice to have things that people like.

But it is relieving that this man looks away, her breath easing someone without direct scrutiny, her hands settled to smooth the dress over the tops of her thighs. It doesn't quite bring her to raise her eyes, but she is comfortable like that.

"Is this dressing up? This is how my people... I thought it was a gift of welcoming..." What was he suggesting? That there might be another purpose other than simple kindness?

Her gaze darts up in alarm before she fixes it back to the ground.

"To celebrate their continual habitation of this place. Perhaps this his how the spirits of this place like their pact honoured?"

Cloud can't imagine anyone regularly wearing the sort of get up this lady has on. Except for Madam M, that lady's got some interesting tastes, she'd probably be all up on that massive headdress.

He glances over at her briefly, just taking in her whole get up once again before looking back down, "it's dressing up where I'm from, anyway."

As much as he wants to get to the bottom of this whole thing, he doesn't want to spook her any more than he's already managed to just by being himself. Besides, he's getting the impression that she's probably new here too, not really the best source of information. It's fine, he's sure he can squeeze something out of someone else later.

"But yeah, maybe you're right about that," he says, not really sure he understands what it means, but whatever. This whole averting of the eyes thing is probably going to make an introduction awkward, so he turns to face her properly again, "well, either way, it looks like we're all probably stuck here for a while. Guess that makes us neighbors. My name is Cloud."

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?"

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."

"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?"

"It's at the base of Mt. Nibel, but I don't know anything about spirits. Can't say I've heard of the Ring Islands, either."

This chat was probably just going to create more questions than it was going to answer, but y'know, that's fine. This is fine.

She has never left her island. Not before this week, at least. But it is filled out rather vaguely, she knows every important Isle and all the ones in the middle of less import. The Fire-Soldiers. The Light-Struck. All their spirits, all the great spirit pacts.

But if she has wisdom it's in the fact she can't say she knows everything there is to know. She has, after all, more immediate concerns most often. The supplies of stock coming in, the harvest, the shearing season. How many families need to be fed.

"You do not know your spirits? Have those of your land not pleaded yet?"

Nope, still not ringing any bells. He puts his hands on his hips, trying to remember if he's ever heard of such a thing before slowly shaking his head.

"Pleaded? I'm not sure I follow."

She presses her lips together as she thinks, and tries to phrase it. "Well... perhaps it might be called different where you hail from? We call it The Great Pleading. It is the day the founder of our family, St. Loe himself, he was slated to die at the hand of cruel men, and he pleaded to be saved to any who would listen. Be it Earth, Wind, Water or Sky."

It is a story she knows by wrote. Told to her over and over again since she was a child.

"The Great Sea Spirit answered him and saved his life that day. That is how our people formed their bond with the spirit that protects us. I have heard similar tales from the other Great Pacts. From what I hear of the other lands, things that are similar happen."

"So, elemental spirits. We don't have anything like your pacts, not really, but if you've got the right materia you can summon a spirit."

Granted, they just show up to smash the hell out of whatever you're in a fight with. There's not a lot going on by way of tales and lore.

"Can you summon your spirits?"

Gilia flickers somewhere between confusion, horror, and then her face falls like she has remembered something utterly crushing to her.

"I would never summon the Father-Sea. He is not my servant. He is our... our great benefactor." It is appalling to her, to think the Spirit works for her, in anyway, that she would just beck and call him. "He gives us great gifts - for instance, I can breathe water like you do air. But - " There is where her face falls, looks bereft, if it were to be put to a word... "... There is no ocean here. I cannot feel his presence. He is not with me... It's..."

Heartbreaking and terrifying, all at once. Like she has lost a part of herself that had always been there. Truthfully, it had. Since she was three days old, it had been. Kept cool and safe by the ocean's touch.

Now she sits in a hole in the ground in the middle of a desert.

Aw beans he did that thing again where he opens his mouth and makes things super uncomfortable. Like okay, he has no qualms about summoning fucking Ifrit and letting him wreck shit with fire, he totally doesn't feel bad about that, but the sympathy does kick in when she starts getting upset.

He's not exactly good at being comforting, even with people he knows he's still stiff and awkward about it, but what he is good at it cutting the bullshit and being direct. Confidence can be comforting in the right circumstances, and Cloud's hoping that this is one of them.

"I know it's a lot right now, but we'll find a way out, a way to get back home. If there was a way for us to get here in the first place, then there's a way to leave."

He sounds way more sure about that than he actually is, whatever's going on here is way over his head. Every problem has a solution though, someone's bound to come up with something.

It is - and so sudden and immediately, Gilia misses her brother. Nikolai would hold her hand and give her courage in facing their joint task. He would show her how to progress forward, even when they were so far away from everything.

Whether he meant to be quite this comforting, it's probably highly debatable. Because she steps forward and in the shame that it is for a woman of her position to cry in front of another, she must hide it, and so she does: into his shoulder with a wracking sob that is very quiet, almost unnoticeable for how her shoulders shake.

"I miss my brothers and sisters."

That was pretty much the last thing Cloud had expected from a complete stranger, but then again there were a lot of things going on right now that he hadn't been expecting at all. He stiffens just a bit, more surprised by the invasion of his personal space than bothered by it, but for a solid like seven seconds he doesn't move an inch. He's not really sure what the proper way to approach this is, being an awkward fuck and all, but he eventually brings a hand up to hesitantly rest between her shoulder blades.

Then comes the matter of what to say in this situation. 'It'll be okay' sounds too cliche, too fake. He can't promise that she'll see her family again some day because he has no goddamn idea what to expect from any of this and ah shit he's taken so long to reply that if he were to say anything now it would probably be awkward.

So that's exactly what he does.

"Sorry." Either for her situation or for the fact that he doesn't have anything helpful to say, kinda both. Whoof he wishes this was a problem that he could cleave in half with his giant sword.

The sobbing still so quiet, at least doesn't require much more than that touch before she manages to pull herself together. Though she keeps her hands over her face, as she wipes at her eyes, still half-hidden against his shoulder.

"No, it is I that must ask your forgiveness. You are being very kind, I did not mean to impose upon you for any answers about what has happened. You just..." she isn't quite sure what to say. "You said something my brother might say."

She is a grown woman, leader of a country, even if it is an Isle, spokesperson for the people, and Daughter of the Father-Sea. She ought to be better than this.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he insists, standing still for as long as she needs to collect herself. That much he can't screw up, he's totally got this.

"what's your brother like? If you don't mind me asking." Maybe a little small talk would help? He doesn't know, he's just winging it here.

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test drive meme: april 2020

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