redmarsshit | june 2020. welcome to the void.

june 2020. welcome to the void.

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.

a. welcome to paradise.

What at first appears to be an odd glint in the sky over Anchor slowly broadens and brightens into a truly enormous...cruise ship? Yes, that's a cruise ship, and it's coming down to rest just outside of Anchor's exit doors. The ground shakes as it lands. A bubble forms over the ship and connects to Anchor's exit, and there's no two ways about it: the ship comes with its own radiation shield.

This sucker puts the Titanic to shame. Nearly as long as Anchor is wide, it's more like a floating city than the cruise ship it resembles. Little satellite ships hover and dart around it, occupied by alien lifeforms with too many arms to quite fit the Hawaiian print shirts that they're wearing.

The Daisy Darling Interdimensional Cruise Barge has come to Anchor.

b. anchors away!

And it's quite accessible to residents of Anchor. In fact, the people (of every shape, size, and coloration that can't be considered human) on board will be delighted to host the creatures they've been watching for the past few months as they orbited the planet. Not only will Anchorites find themselves accosted for photos, but they can also find figurines, keychains, and small novelty items of themselves in almost every knick-knack store on the promenade deck. The souvenir shops will also come heavily stocked with red shift-themed items, including toys and decorations featuring some of the monsters that have appeared from the wastes. You always wanted a slinky sand worm, didn't you?

Anyone who can sing, dance, play music, or otherwise perform will be encouraged to do so and showered with gifts - both useful and useless - by the vacationers. Have an instrument, or a good voice? Go busking! Sell your art, give lectures about your home worlds, teach salsa dancing. The vacationers are just waiting to give you money for helping them have a good time.

There's an alien casino, with machines both familiar and very very not. It's a rollicking place with neon signs, free-flowing drinks, and even more free-flowing money. You might not have any use for alien currency in Anchor itself, but it couldn't hurt to check out the shops with a little extra cash from the poker tables, could it? At one side is an all-you-can-eat buffet of everything under the sun, from alien fruit and vegetable platters to...is that a whole giant squid? I never knew they came in quite that color...

You can sneak around the casino without too much effort, stealing from pockets, tables, and platters, but that could get you caught and thrown in the brig, which. Well. We'll get to that, but you don't really want to go there.

The uppermost level of the ship is a beach and water park. There's sand, palm trees, a wave pool, water slides, and a lazy river with inner tubes big enough to support even the heftiest alien. Oh, and a regular old pool, over there. Where all the old aliens are hanging out and playing hover-shuffle-board. Swimming gear is required in this area, but not to worry! There’s an automated booth that will supply you with just the suit you need.

In addition to these places, there's a whole ship to explore, with all the amenities a weary traveler could want. A spa (manned by real (alien) people!), jacuzzis, restaurants that actually function with food the bold can actually eat, clothing stores (though not much of it is designed with humans in mind), deck chairs on sunny promenades, gardens full of alien flowers, and an enormous library filled with books that are checked out based on the honor system. So, y'know. Be honorable. Or something.

c. the first rule of daisy darling.

For those unentertained by the above-board offerings of the upper decks, there's the ship’s more hidden amenities. A fight club filled with creatures of every shape, size, and level of power. A drug den with everything from euphoria-inducing cigarettes to hallucination-causing body paints. A thriving black market, though the offerings are comparatively innocent - bootlegged episodes of Anchors Away, mostly. What's that? Oh, just the reality show of your lives over the past six months. Let's hope no one comes across any awkward vids showing things you don't want people to know about.

Attached to the fight club is the brig. Can you see where this is going? People who get caught breaking the rules on the Daisy Darling can expect to face the music by being put opposite some of the ships more powerful monsters, or its more powerful and reckless vacationers. Who wouldn't love to test themselves against a giant robot or an honest-to-god cowboy? Don't worry! If you get too badly hurt, there's a repair suite on the medical level that can fix up almost any injury. Just don't die before you get there.

If anyone asks about staying on board, escaping the planet with the ship, or tries to convince an alien to help them stow away, they'll be told it goes against both the prime directive and the Daisy's petting zoo rules. Try to stow away on your own? Well, if you're lucky, you'll get caught by a benevolent guard and booted back to Anchor. If you're unlucky, get those boxing gloves ready, because you're headed for the brig.

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 and tag team in the fight club? 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

B. Is He Getting Royalties From This?

Jacob has never seen a ship this big. They just don't exist in his time, and the City of Sin certainly had boats but... this is something completely different. He's pretty sure he's bigger than Anchor itself.

And it's filled with... curios. Not the sort Herny had, which were tastefully stuffed animals, or books written in strange languages. This is... this is the sort of thing he'd heard about in the City of Sin. Merchandice, stuff sold to have, not for any real purpose.

He pokes a strange figure of himself? He thinks? It's weird, and he doesn't think he likes it. But there's something similiar, of Charles, and Angel. And Connor. And they're adorable. He's going to get all of them, and set them up in the Quad.

"Hey!" He calls to the person... creature... thing that seems to be running the store. "Can I have these?"

Don't ask, don't get.

C. Vices- 1. Fight Club.

Oh boy.

Oh boy.

Jacob can smell the metallic taint in the air. Blood and fear and adrenaline and he's already pulling off his coat as he pushes through the crowds. How long since he'd done this? When he was back in London he supposes, but that had stopped being such a challenge. The City? The bastards he'd fought there had magic powers sometimes, and that made things interesting.

Here, there's a whole host of things to fight. People with extra limbs and strange globs of pulsating matter and what looks like a snake with legs.

He pushes his coat into the arms of the person next to him, and then his hat, and steps into the empty space. He's a bit out of practise, but he doesn't mind losing the first round if it means winning the second and third.

"Come on then, if you think you're hard enough."

C. Vices- 2. Chasing the Dragon

He knew about opium. He knew about Cocaine, although that was more healthy than it was a drug, per se. He knew about Lust, although he'd promised everyone he'd never touch the stuff again.

But moving through the dim-lit den of depravity, head swimming already from second-hand smoke, he wants to try all of this. There's people writhing and groaning and trembling and giggling, and he wants to know what it is they're seeing, what is going on that he can't see.

He knows he shouldn't. He knows that it's probably a bad idea but he's never been good at resisting temptation. So he settles down in a corner, and accepts a shot-glass full of... strange dancing light. And without any hesitation, knocks it back.

"Oh fuck-"

He moves around the edges of the crowd. Knows how to keep his head down, to slip among the figures watching the fights and pressing in closer for a better view. The noise rises in a vibrant hum that catches under the skin, spiking in cheers when a particularly vicious blow is landed.

Jacob's got himself handled. He's having a good time, and Charles isn't here to get in the way of that. But he's here if needed, always. And it's not unheard of for someone to be 'tagged in' to the match.

Guess it depends on who's coming out to face him next, and Charles settles in near the edge of the ring, arms folded, content to watch...for now.

Jacob knows Charles is watching. Knows it and revels in it, fighting harder and with more flair than he might do otherwise. If you can't show off for your man, who can you show off for?

The last fight left him a little bloody, with a graze over his cheek when scale-covered knuckles had connected, and the beginnings of a bruise. But it's nothing, nothing at all compared with the rush of adrenaline.

And the fact these people seem to know his name. Stands to reason, considering the merchandise he saw on the upper decks. Still, there's something to having people cheer you by name. Something that makes his grin grow wider as he strides to where Charles watches, waiting for the next challenger.

"How am I doing?" He asks, lips forming a flirtatious smirk.

But not for long. There's a grunt behind him and a tall, broad creature steps into the ring. Like a doberman, if a doberman had fists and walked on two legs. And had eyes as red as coals.

"Well, so far. Just remember to stay focused."

And of course no sooner does he say that then Jacob's next opponent makes his entry. His? Could be hers. It's hard to say, with a creature like that, but regardless of its gender it looks ready to put a Jacob-shaped hole in the floor.

Charles's eyes dart back towards Jacob, lips pressed together tightly as he reaches out, squeezing his wrist briefly. "You've got this. I'm here, if you need me."

But he's prepared to let him do his own fighting, too.

"Stay focused." Jacob repeats, but his attention is already caught by the new arrival. He does turn back to flash Charles a grin, cocksure as only a young man can be.

"You just sit back and enjoy, alright?"

Of course Charles will charge in if he needs him, he trusts that he will judge that moment if it comes up. Of course, they've fought a few weird and wonderful things together, but that was always in anger, never for fun.

He squares up to the creature, as they begin to circle. He thinks he's out of reach but as it turns out, those arms are much longer than a human's. Black claws scratch across his sternum before he can jump away.

The crowd roars, incited by the sight -- and smell -- of first blood. Charles stiffens but remains where he is for the time, though memories of a different world and a different foe are hard to keep from the front of his mind.

Come on, fight smart. Keep your distance. You're quicker than he is, use that.

He doesn't need to say it out loud, he trusts. But worry comes for free, considering how many capable people he knows with a tendency to bite off more than they can chew.

Jacob isn't telepathic, but he doesn't need to be. He knows Charles, knows what his advice will be. Stay out of reach. Look for openings. Keep moving.

Yes he does often underestimate his foes, judging himself much more capable than he is. At least, initially. Evie would always hang back to observe but Jacob always had to jump in.

Now he jumps back. Literally clearing the distance so he is out of the range of those claws, and keeps his arms up, his eyes peeled for weakness. It doesn't take long to spot it. There is a moment, after every lunge the other makes, when they are slightly off balanced.

And Jacob takes that opportunity. Maybe its not in the way Charles would like but he closes the distance, ducking away from the talons and landing several swift punches. Enough to knock his opponent back, and then off it's feet.

There's another wave of roars and shouts, and this time Charles is among them, a smile on his face. That's it!

Doesn't matter if it's not how he would have done it. It's getting done, and the thing looks pissed that this tiny little human is getting the better of him. Now it's going to get harder, it's going to try to hit harder, and Jacob needs to be doubly as careful.

But he's got this. No doubt in his mind.

If anyone thrives on that roar, it's Jacob. If anyone feeds on that and lets it power them forward, it's Jacob. But he feels the rush of anger from his opponent, the rage bubbling over, hot and raw and Jacob likes it. He likes fighting, he likes the rush of it all. First blood is one thing, but it takes longer to stoke the coals into a real fire.

And it's in him now.

He ducks again, heart beating hard in his chest as he feels another blow narrowly miss him, and rushes at the thing. He might be a tiny little human, but he's a heavy little human, and the force of him slamming into the creature's chest knocks it down.

But not out. And Jacob landing heavily on top of it puts him once more in reach of those claws, which score down across his face. He curses, blood running into his mouth and tries to roll away to get back on his feet.

Stay out of reach. That's easier said than done.

Jacob isn't the only one trying to get the proprietor's attention. Starscream had been perusing one of the other tables boredly (hunkered down to get close enough to see, which was a sight to behold in itself) when something eerily familiar catches his gaze. It doesn't look like Starscream, not beyond the fact that it's obviously some kind of mech, but he seems almost irrationally angered by it.

"You!" he barks at the poor keeper running the stall, picking the little figure up and somehow managing not to crush it. "Where did you get this?"

Then at Jacob, he adds, "Have they done this to you as well?"

Jacob looks at it, and then at the giant robot, and frowns. It's clear to him they're meant to be one and the same, although the toy is a poor facsimile.

"...Yours looks better than mine?"

He offers, holding up the featureless figure. By the looks of it, the toy robot at least has little projectiles it can fire, and it clearly is meant to somehow be rearranged into something else.

Starscream looks absolutely murderous. Far more than a low-quality toy should have provoked, even for someone with the mech's mercurial temper.

"That's not the point! I want to know how. I haven't had that frame in... in..." A very long time. He doesn't like to think about it.

"My point is that it's older than most of these species! How do they know about it!?"

Jacob blinks. He's not entirely sure exactly what the giant robot man actually means, how can something be older than a species?

"Maybe they... found ancient records? Or... dug it out of your memory somehow?"

He's not sure. The model of him doesn't have any features that date it- it barely has any features at all, but enough to mark it as him. The little keychains of Connor, Charles and Angel are similar, there's nothing about them that mark them as being from a time before Jacob knew them.

Then again, suggesting that someone has been fishing around inside their brains is probably not going to make Starscream feel any better.

Indeed, Starscream practically recoils at the very suggestion, his wings hiking so high they almost seem like they're about to detach completely from his back. "How dare—!" he snaps, as if it had been a statement of immutable fact rather than a speculation.

"Is that what they did with yours?" he asked venomously, looking at the one Jacob's holding.

Jacob looks back at the figurine and shakes his head. It's pretty simple, and unlike Starscream, his appearance hasn't radically altered. Maybe he has a couple more scars than he did six months ago, but they've hardly picked out a lot of detail.

"All they needed was the contents of my wardrobe I suppose." After all, he's even wearing the coat they depicted at this moment, and while he isn't wearing his top hat, he does own one.

"I guess us soft organic things don't necessarily change all that radically?"

Starscream's expression puckers in perplexed thought. "That is not correct, is it? All organics start small and lumpy, do you not?"

"Erm," Jacob frowns, and thinks about it. He hasn't really ever done so before, but the big guy has a point.

"I guess? But it's all... blue-printed in there. You just grow into it?"

Does that make sense? Somehow even when they are small and squishy, they manage to grow up to look like their parents more often than not. Dickens wrote something about that, right?

"Blue-printed... like core coding then. Hmph. " He doesn't like thinking that humans and mecha have anything in common, even though it's been proven time and time again that they have weirdly specific similarities when it comes to some things.

"I suppose that must be the way of it, seeing as how you all keep..." A vague wave of very large claws. "... Spawning."

Jacob has only ever heard of fish spawning, but... is it different for robots? Angel has never mentioned it, and she seems to know a lot about that sort of thing.

Then again, the giant metal man in front of him seems utterly removed from the robots and Craptraps Angel has mentioned in the past.

"So... how do you guys do it then?" He asks with a frown and no small amount of curiosity.

"The Well generates new sparks which rise to the surface," Starscream replied crisply. "Those either propagate a new protoform in place, or are harvested and introduced to a prefabricated frame."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

june 2020. welcome to the void.

Jacob Frye / OTA

Fight Club

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B. Royalties

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