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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.
a
"Maybe it happened before," she wonders, only half to herself. "Or maybe it's going to happen."
Maybe Joe would know. If only she knew how to get hold of him without him appearing first.
no subject
"We got food predicting the future now? This just gets better and better."
Meaning, he'd place his money on 'happened before', but this is a really weird way of telling them about it. Why not just ... tell them? And who even planned this?
no subject
She peers again at the 'explosion' in front of them, leaning down a little for a closer look. Maybe she ought to take some pictures before it all gets ruined.
"And Anchor isn't really forthcoming with things it might be useful for us to know."
no subject
No, he doesn't expect Poison to have the answer to that, but he can't help but feel rather annoyed. Anchor, she says, like it's an entity that can make its own choices. Is it? Maybe he shouldn't even discount that possibility.
no subject
Maybe she's grown too used to thinking of these places as living thihngs with minds of their own. It's certainly always felt that way, when even the beings or people who were supposed to be in charge didn't have full control over the whims of the world itself.
"Were you here when Sini spoke to us? Some of the things she said made me wonder about her."
no subject
"No idea who she is, so probably not."
no subject
"No one's seen her, but I think she's been here for as long as Joe has. She doesn't like it when he's mistreated."
no subject
"That who the cake's for?"
no subject
She frowns at the image on the cake, her eyes narrowing slightly just for a moment. Maybe it was how he looked when he arrived here? But what was the point of all this? It's all just... strange.
"I don't think anyone's seen him in a while. ... How long have you been here?"
no subject
"Only a couple of months." He finally turns to her, and holds out a hand. "Name's Arthur Morgan."
no subject
"I'm Poison. I've been here for... a while."
no subject
"Poison? Who gave you that name?"
no subject
She's grown used to people not asking about her name. They always did back home, but when she's around so many people with far stranger names than her... People from other countries, other planets, people who hadn't even thought to question the name when she gave it.
But she still has the explanation ready.
"I chose it. At my naming ceremony, when I was fourteen."
no subject
His eyebrows shoot up, not so much out of surprise as just ... acceptance. He stops himself from asking about it, though he definitely wants to. If she chose it herself, why? It didn't exactly have positive connotations. It seems like a rather personal question to ask a complete stranger, because the reason may very well be ... well. Personal.
"Okay."
Not much else to say about it, so. That's what he's got.
no subject
Doesn't take a genius to see that a mile off. She could be wrong, but 'Poison' is a strange enough name in her own world, she imagines it would be odd in one where people can be called 'Arthur'.
"That's fine. I was--" She puffs out a sigh. "I chose it to make a point. I suppose."
Then she shrugs.
"But you only get to make the choice once."
no subject
That makes as much sense as any. The idea of choosing your own name is also strange, and he wouldn't know what he might want to name himself if given the option, but why not use it to 'make a point'. Whatever the point is, exactly.
"Hope you don't regret it."
Not implying that she does, but that would be unfortunate. At least when your parents name you, you can always blame them.
no subject
'Poison', though? Poison suits her right down to the ground. She purses her lips and loosely folds her arms, finally shifting her attention away from the spread in front of them.
"What about 'Arthur'. Does it mean something to you, or is it just what you answer to?"
no subject
"Is what I always been called. Never gave it much thought, truth be told. Don't even know what it means.
no subject
Men, Phaeries, all beings in all Realms can be called all kinds of things, but she's never met somebody called 'Arthur'. It feels nice when it's spoken, though.
"In the swamp, girls are usually named after flowers and herbs. Boys are named after trees and features of the land."
no subject
"We got a few names like that. Daisy, Lily, Basil." He paused for a moment. "You had another name before 'Poison'?"
Since she said they were named. They'd have to be called something before a ceremony at fourteen, wouldn't they?
no subject
As far as swamps were concerned - or, Swamps - Arthur would no doubt find the Black Marshes to be a very problematic place indeed. If it wasn't the miles and miles of uninhabitable bogs, it was the goatfish, or the poisonous plants, or the swamplung that could knock the healthiest person off their feet.
To say nothing of the Phaeries.
"But no one calls me that anymore."