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redmarsshit2020-04-27 08:43 pm
modblob) wrote in redmarsshit2020-04-27 08:43 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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We will be very quick, I promise. [She gives his arm a reassuring pat.] Now, what color will you wear? I see which you prefer, but you would look handsome in many others.
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You know, there's a saying where I'm from - "If it isn't broke, don't fix it."
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[She gives him a smile, already picturing what colors he'd look best in. To be fair, green is a good look on him.]
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"Adventure"? Is that what we're calling it?
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[The spa is in sight, as is the tailorbot. Elleru waves to it — she's gotten real friendly with this little guy by now.]
How is it you feel about blue?
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[ As in "I look bad in it," or "it belongs to someone else"? Hard to say. ]
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Red, then? No, it would be too vibrant. Perhaps purple?
[She uses her free hand to swing some of her long hair to the front so she can compare it to his skin tone.]
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... Why is he thinking of it like that, anyway? It's not like his old teammates are here to object. Most of them aren't even alive to object. How absurd.
He sighs and rolls his eyes. ] I can tell you right now, I'm going to end up in green regardless. I don't see why you're so invested in this.
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I want you to look your best. Your best may be something you never thought before.
no subject
That doesn't really answer his question. And in fact raises a few others.
... He's an idiot, isn't he. The gentle smile, the affectionate tone of voice, the effortless contact, the inexplicable concern with his appearance... She's flirting with him. She's been flirting with him this whole time, and he was too dense to notice. ]
Well! What do you know, we're here.
[ He's just gonna go ahead and take his arm back now! Totally casual, nothing to read into, he's not uncomfortable, what are you talking about! He puts a couple feet of distance between them (in a totally calm and natural way) and holds up his index finger as if to say "just one thing." ]
Don't lose sight of our objective, now - I just need to get into the festival. There's no reason to go overboard.
no subject
Is it wrong to enjoy it, even if it is not our objective?
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Still, he can't help feeling a twinge of guilt about it, for whatever reason. He stalls for a few seconds, gesticulating vaguely as he casts about for the right words. ]
Well, no, no. Of course it's not wrong, but -
[ But it's hardly fair if she's the only one enjoying herself, isn't it? ]
- I just think, possibly, you may be overestimating how much fun it's going to be. For you.
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[Not a question, but an observation, a conclusion she seems to come to.]
Are you shy, Qubit?
no subject
Um excuse, he's insecure, there's a difference.Her observation is more or less correct, but her question puts him on the defensive, despite the gentleness of her delivery. Like she's attributing his reluctance to a personal failing on his part, when it's not actually that simple. ]What? No. Don't be ridiculous.
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What if I were to change, too? Would that make you comfortable?
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If anything, her offer makes him less comfortable, but like hell is he going to admit it. Why is she not getting the message? Clearly, the only failure to communicate here is on her end. He sputters uselessly for a second before throwing his hands up in frustration. ]
I don't know! Do what you want.
[ With that, he turns on his heel and storms into the tailorbot's place in a huff. ]
no subject
Yes, that's what she wants to do. She wants to help. He wanted to get into the party, and he needs her help. It's as simple and straightforward as that.
She follows him into the spa, the tailorbot beeping from the little corner it's made in the lobby. There's an array of fabrics and embellishments on display, coming in all the colors one could think of. While some of the patterns could be charitably described as unusual, most are surprisingly tasteful for Anchor's usual fare. She stoops before the robot, putting a hand on it and giving it a friendly pat.]
Qubit would like a new outfit, please. Something in green, perhaps? And I would like something vibrant and bright.
[The tailorbot beeps a few more times, skittering into one of the side rooms; normally for massages, they apparently serve as storage at the moment. It returns, its lower half extended so that it stands at nearly Qubit's height, two garments hanging from its mechanical arms. It rolls back to Elleru and offers her the selections: one for Qubit, and the other for her. Setting aside the dress, Elleru holds up the first, eyeing it and trying to see how it compares to Qubit's frame.]
no subject
... Still, he shouldn't be too hard on her. She's not from Earth, or even human. It's very possible they're just having a cross-cultural misunderstanding. And she did ask for green for him, in the end. He'll just need to ... send clearer signals. While also being nicer. (Are these goals mutually exclusive? Maybe!)
He sighs and turns his attention to the tailorbot's offerings, hands in his pockets, but pretty much calmed down. The suit doesn't appear to strike his fancy, though. ]
Mm. It's a bit... "Prohibition mobster," isn't it?
[ Yeah, cause she'll know what that means. Anyway, they'd probably have to let out the sides on the jacket at the very least. Qubit's reasonably fit and all, but he does not have what you'd call a tapered waist. ]
no subject
What is prohibition mobster? I take is not favorable?
no subject
"Prohibition" refers to a period of about a decade during which the Americans decided alcohol was the root of all evil, and banned it nationwide. It... went about as well as you'd expect. Long story short, the demand for alcohol did not decrease. So who's going to supply it? Well - there already were well-connected networks of criminals with experience smuggling illegal goods. Organized crime syndicates, or colloquially, "the mob."
[ Once again, a change of subject saves the day! He's much more at ease talking about something like this. ]
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I believe I understand. They are bad guys, and you are not.
[She drapes the yellow dress over one of the lobby chairs.]
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... Essentially. In later years it got to be sort of a stock character, the cigar-chomping thug in an ill-fitting pinstripe suit. And even that's dated, in my time. [ He shrugs. ] I suppose I just was trying to say "I don't care for pinstripes," in the most roundabout way possible.
no subject
[The tailorbot returns with another selection, to which Elleru takes one look, glances back at Qubit, and then shakes her head.]
Too bright. Another, please.
[And with that, she's just going to start sliding out of her dress to try on the yellow one.]
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What, like it's hard?][ Buuut then he notices she's! disrobing! right there! in the middle of the room! If she likes getting flustered reactions out of him, she has just found the most effective method yet. ]
Elleru-!
[ He spins to put his back to her, but also closes his eyes, just for added insurance. ]
Do you - [ wait no, clearly she doesn't mind. ] They have changing rooms!
no subject
It is faster to change right here, Qubit. I do not mind. It will take only a moment.
[She slips the MAXIMUM LEG dress off and makes her way into the yellow one, the color vibrant against her darker skin. Pale colors might not suit a man like Qubit, but Elleru is well aware she looks stunning in them. She pulls her long hair out the back and over her shoulder, covering some of the cleavage that the ample neckline reveals.]
What do you think? [She gives a little spin, watching how the fabric drapes over her curves.]
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