test drive meme: april 2020

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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.

Comments

[kaballin]

"Sure." That's not suspicious in any way to be at a party and not eat. Neither is the fact he's never seen Carlisle's face. But hey, he's a great boss who doesn't enforce the dress code.

"What's it gonna do? Burn me more?" That's exactly what it would do, and he knows it. In all honesty he's not a big fan of fire, but he's also not someone who has any fear. He's definitely not going to let some inanimate object (or force of nature) best him, so he'll light whatever he wants on fire. As a show of strength. Because that's how it works in his charred mind.

"And I'm gonna be honest and be surprised you even came to this. There's more than two people here you know."

[abheirrant]

Carlisle rolls his eyes, though whether it's because of the quip about fire — which, yes, will burn more — or his follow-up goes unsaid. He decides to address the latter:

"I decided it would be good for me to be among others. My constant solitude has done little to help my control over my energies."

It didn't help him in life, either — an entire lifespan spent isolated in his family's estate resulted in him accidentally destroying everything he'd ever known, including himself. He was doing better when he had people who called him a friend in Anchor, finding himself feeling more alive with each passing day, but as they disappear one by one, he's started sequestering himself away again, so sure the common thread of misfortune must be him.

However, being alone with himself and his endless thoughts just makes his solitude all the more unbearable, and so here he is, trying to pretend to be human once more. A futile hope, but one he found impossible to ignore as the party inched closer, his new outfit a solid temptation to lure him out. He's convinced that if he tries hard enough, he can feel the plush velvet of his coat's accents, the smooth gold that lines the buttons. It's a fantastic garment, one of a quality he wasn't sure he'd ever see in this place.

And in good news, he cleans up and wears it well, even if his face is hidden.

[kaballin]

"Friends are good for ya huh?" Some people need a team to function, even Kabal likes having other people around. It's a little hard to banter with yourself after all. But he knows that's not the issue for Carlisle, even though he really doesn't get what the problem is.

He also doesn't particularly care, though of the people he's interacted with Carlisle has been one of the more useful, so it's in his best interest to keep him alive and fully functional. If this is his way of recharging like a cell phone, Kabal is all for it.

"You notice all the forks? If you ask real nice I'll tell you which is which." said with the smug superiority of someone who knows something someone else doesn't.

[abheirrant]

Carlisle snorts audibly behind the scarf covering his face, rolling his eyes at Kabal's smug attitude. He thought the man couldn't be more insufferable; he was clearly wrong.

"And tell me again how it is you know so much about these various types of forks?" Carlisle asks, still clearly doubting there is any real difference between them other than size. "I cannot imagine you sitting at the table of high society, nor can I see anyone else but a monarch making such a fuss over utensils."

[kaballin]

"You're underestimating the Black Dragon there buddy. Dictators sure do love showing off their ostentatious wealth by having gold plated toilets and meals with a hundred little courses. And it's a real good way to intimidate foreign heads of state if you have the arms dealers that got you your firepower at those little shindigs." Once again telling the truth even though he knows Carlisle won't believe him. Not much caring about Carlisle's reaction he pulls the mask down so he can drink more of the whiskey from the decanter he's carrying around.

"All the stupid high society rules are made up bullshit anyway. But they sure get mad if you mess it up." Not that Kabal ever hung around that long. There was always some bored spouse more than willing to live on the wild side and have a closet fling with a dangerous felon.

[abheirrant]

Kabal removes his mask so casually so he can drink; Carlisle, on the other hand, keeps adjusting his scarf, afraid it will fall just enough to reveal his missing nose and decayed jawline. He's not sure he believes any of what Kabal says, but something about the man's tone tells Carlisle it's closer to fact than fiction. Maybe it's how Kabal describes these 'dictator' sorts as anything but pleasant, charitable fellows, but rather as beings of ostentatious avarice.

"Were you punished by any of them?" he asks, casting Kabal a sideways glance. "Do you know how mad they get first-hand, or is it hearsay?"

[kaballin]

"Me? Punished?" Well that's worth a good laugh before he fastens the mask back in place. Oh he's glad he keeps Carlisle around, that's refreshing. Punished.

"That shit doesn't matter to me, I'm not the one trying to make a good impression and get them to buy more shit. I'm the one making sure they keep their word and don't fuck up our deals. Or I start fucking up their lives."

Generally starting from the kneecaps and working his way out. Not to say he's won all his fights, or always been successful, but that's for him to know and Carlisle to never find out.

[abheirrant]

Carlisle shudders. "You are wonderful company to keep, as always," he remarks dryly. He picks up a fork from one of the settings, wondering idly if Kabal will pinch it the second he isn't looking — or if he'll just do it right in front of him, as he seems to care so little about morals.

"You take joy in the suffering of others, don't you?"

[kaballin]

"Not really. I just don't care. Two different things." For being a thug he's pretty self aware, and he's also honest. One of the perks of being who he is, because everyone knows he's scum they assume he always lies. Which means he can tell the truth and get away with it.

"I enjoy the fighting though. You could stand to enjoy something yourself. You're dour as hell."

[abheirrant]

"I do have hobbies," Carlisle cuts back with a snort. "Perhaps you would know that if you cared to know me at all, save for what I can do for you."

Not that he enjoys theft, and that he hasn't been coerced against his will every time he's dealt with Kabal. Well... save for tonight. They both just happened to be here, that's all.

[kaballin]

"Doesn't mean you enjoy them. Just means there's things you do." Granted he doesn't know what those things are because he never cared to acknowledge that Carlisle existed when he wasn't actively being useful to him.

"What are these hobbies?"

[abheirrant]

"I have my glyphcrafting," Carlisle answers, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that Kabal has a point, and that some of his hobbies are less enjoyable and more routine to help him keep his sanity. Being awake all the time means he has a lot of hours to fill. "Reading. Gardening. Mastering the Snake Bert."

He says that name like someone who only sort of understands what it is.

[kaballin]

"Snake bert?" He knows that video games exist and that's about it.

"Right you're some kinda mage or something." He'd almost forgotten that. "Or healer or whatever."

He'd been kind of paying attention during Carlisle's tirade in the flooded hallway. But considering the aftermath of that had gone very, very poorly for Kabal, the memory was a little fuzzy.

"What are you glyphcrafting?"

[abheirrant]

Fuzzy memory or not, Carlisle seems genuinely impressed that Kabal actually remembered his mentioning he's specifically a healer. He tries not to let his surprise show, but there's only so much the mask can hide, and there's no disguising how his eyebrows rise in momentary awe.

"Er, right. My glyphcrafting. I'm not- not working on anything in particular. Just practicing for what I may need to do in the future. Such knowledge comes in handy should I suddenly find the need to seal away a room to keep a terrifying presence from escaping."

[kaballin]

Little does Carlisle know that he's always paying attention, he just doesn't care most of the time so ignores stuff that isn't important. This one seemed pretty important, especially given all the rotting and the yelling and the wanting to see Kabal dead because he might not be the best boss to his favorite lackey.

"Guess that makes sense. Speaking of that, you don't gotta like.. redo that thing all the time do you? Should we be expecting some horror beasts to erupt if you miss a day?"