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videodrome2016-01-07 04:37 am
shiftmods) wrote in videodrome2016-01-07 04:37 am
Entry tags:
LOG 001: INTRO
WELCOME TO STATION RED.
You wake up in your bed.
Not your bed back home, of course, but the bunk that's been assigned to you. Your new bed for the next foreseeable future. You’ve been dressed in what is the basic uniform around here. (OOC note; your newly issued equipment is detailed here.)
Your own clothing, of course (the clothing you came in wearing, that is) is folded neatly, and all of your other belongings are present and accounted for nearby, and near them will be a piece of paper, a thin carbon copy of your bill. Of course the word ‘bill’ is the only word in your native tongue on the paper, the rest in a completely indecipherable alien language. That and the number, of course.
1,000,000,000
The room is sparsely furnished, small, and some would say cramped; someone with a less negative outlook might call it utilitarian, or hey, why not even cozy. The bed is just soft enough to be comfortable, but not luxurious, although it probably feels like you slept on a slab of concrete after what you’ve been through.
And what have you been through? Your memories preceding your awakening may be hazy at best, and you certainly won’t remember any of your arrival here. Characters who were present at the Interim will remember it. You might have a headache, light-headedness, nausea, strange lights or shapes in your vision, or sounds in your ear, although any life threatening injuries you may have had just before waking up here will be gone.
Characters will be free to explore their location, STATION RED, although at the moment, much of it will be unavailable, corridors shuttered off, gates closed, with no obvious means of access. It’s a sparse, almost military type of place, high ceilinged and warehouse-like in the big areas, with more cramped feeling interior rooms and hallways. There seems to be a significant level disrepair here, with exposed wiring, and chipped or scratched finishes common sights. This is closer to an old bunker than a five star hotel. There will be no windows anyway, making it impossible to tell where you are.
If there’s one thing that’s consistent, whether in your room, or a hallway, or anywhere else, video screens, seem crammed in unlikely places, and are ubiquitous. They’re all black at the moment, and some are cracked, looking like they might never come on.
The only place that really seems lively, and as if anyone’s been occupying it in recent times, is an area that looks something like a bar.
Its not quite this populated yet.
The bar-like area is decorated in an odd assortment of paper decorations and streamers, a small banner that reads ‘Happy New Year!’ strung near one of the tables, which is piled with the only available food. There’s cake, a variety of snacks, shrimp cocktail, an ample supply of glasses of champagne. And almost all of them taste wrong. Some items might taste exactly as you’d expect them, others taste distinctly like something they should not, and those shrimp have the notable taste of absolutely nothing. Something is definitely not right here.
When the screens come on, there’s an audible electronic popping noise, and a woman’s face appears on the screen. The image has some static, but there’s something strange about the woman as well; something...insubstantial.
“Welcome, everyone, to Station Red! I hope you like what we’ve prepared for you here...I apologize, it’s something of a work in progress. We are working with limited resources here and your arrival was somewhat….unexpected. It’s been a long time since we’ve had dealings with anyone from your particular coordinates.” She smiles broadly. “I almost forgot, my name is Solan Re. I’m the Senior Case worker for, ah...well for you. On your behalf.
Take your time and enjoy the refreshments we've provided you - they're as culturally accurate as we could manage with our somewhat limited resources, informational or otherwise. In the meantime, I am here to answer your questions as, I'm sure you have many. I will answer them to the absolute BEST of my ability!"
no subject
[Waking up had been . . . uneventful, to say the least. His eyes opened as slowly as ever, he wanted to get out of bed just as much as he ever did - not a whole hell of a lot, generally - but when he finally focuses on his surroundings, his head pops right off that pillow.
A pillow much less comfortable than his own at home. If anything, that was one of the real crimes here.
A least, he'll think that way until he spots the piece of paper. After staring at it blearily for a bit wondering what it could be, he'll stretch out his hand and pluck it up, staring at it with with all the intensity of a dead-fish.
He'll keep staring at it. What was this? Is this what he thought it was? What exactly was he paying for? His hand shakes a little in panic. Sure, he'd owed people money but . . . this amount?
And. . .1,000,000 . . . what exactly? 1,000,000 yen, or maybe dollars, 1,000,000 gold, 1,000,000 sticks of gum, 1,000,000 hours of training in the Room of Spirit and Time, 1,000,000 souls of magical girls. . . .
So. . . 1,000,000 what?
He'll crumple up the paper, giving a groan of frustration as he tosses it in the direction of the door, rolling over and burying himself in his blankets. It'll be awhile before he's up. Since he has to pay for this bed and all.
. . . well, where the hell was he anyway? ]
2 -- don't go into a cantina if you owe somebody money
[After some time in bed, and exploring his living space, he'd managed to make it out to the bar area. He figured he could spend some more time exploring later since he was more than happy to see some cake and something to drink. He'll take a glass of champagne, and then he'll put no less than 3 pieces of cake on his plate, moseying over to where he can sit down by himself. Despite the situation, the look on his face is one of pure happiness as he shoves a big bite of cake into his mouth. Sweet cake, sweet sugar. It would never betray hi--
BUT GASP. Unfortunately though, when you gasp with your mouth full, it just leads to choking. Gintoki starts to choke, coughing like he's trying to expel his soul from his body.
Somebody try the Heimlich.]
3 -- there's nothing like the bond between a man and his
dogsweets[Once he's recovered, he's gonna sit and stew. Every so often, he'll look at the cake on his plate, eyes a little more hopeful than before as he reaches . . . hesitates . . . reaches again. . . stills his hand . . . no . . . but again . . . reaches. . . that wistful, nostalgic expression on his face . . . and he snatches a bit of the cake again. He'll look hard at it, willing it back into it's original, innocent, heavenly sweet form before swiftly putting it into his mouth.
Only to shudder, teeth clenched with a quietly pained whine, before hanging his head. It still tasted like --
-- like natto.
Yeah, he's gonna do that a few times. Someone might want to take the cake away from him, or maybe just watch for their own personal amusement.
After awhile though, he'll walk up to where the food is, set a hand on whatever tray or plate the cake was on, and simply slide it onto the floor, watching that moist and delicious looking nightmare fall apart with a few solemn words.]
There, there. I've put us both out of misery. I didn't want it to end this way. . . I saw a long, bright, glittering future for us both, in that house by the lake I know you dreamed about . . .
[Are there tears in his eyes? Calm down, buddy.]
II -- I'm sure this is how you make friends.
"It would take only the most stout individuals to weather the alcohol! It seems like whatever hasn't done us for in the desert is making another, more subtle attempt... in the dessert!"
[He was so damn clever. After the stranger coughs a few times, he scoffs inwardly. Some people couldn't understand a good joke.]
"I would avoid the cake, though. I could swear it almost smelled like vinegar. Oh!"
[He pretends to notice the mans plate, and raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.]
"Well, that's most unfortunate, isn't it!"
no this is how you make friends let me show you
. . . and just as quickly as it started, the wheezing, the coughing . . . stops? A distressed look, then, he'll shake just a little and finally squeeze his eyes shut --
And cough, hard. It's painful, really. But the half-chewed pieces of strong-smelling cake that hit Mordecai's face wetly are hint enough that he's now out of danger.
Gintoki takes an enormous breath, doubling over and putting a hand to his side, muttering quietly, hoarsely.]
I-I bruised something . . . A-ah, I must've, I definitely bruised something. . . seriously hurts. . .
So many new friends!
[He didn't know what he expected, really. Engaging him was his first mistake. After calling attention to himself, he should have let him contemplate his folly without commentary. Or at the very least, at greater distance. A bit of masticated pastry becomes unstuck and rolls down the side of his nose, landing in his lap. He felt a cold fury settling in, places a hand on the bar, and stands unhurriedly. Some days you woke up and thought you wouldn't have to maul a man. Life had a way of spitting curve-balls at you, however.]
"Perhaps not enough, I think. Let's make sure you got it all up."
well they're both friendly guys right
What the hell was this guy? A cat person? He'd seen a few aliens like that, but it was always a little odd to look at the face of a cat on a body just as tall as his own. And why was he standing up. . .
Gintoki doesn't exactly register what's happened until that piece of cake falls off the other's nose. . . but he wasn't gonna apologize though. No way. Not to some asshole who makes a joke while someone else was choking. He'll reach up and give Mordecai a pat on the shoulder, except his hand might still have some cake on it.]
Oi, you saved me pal. Your face scared it all out of me.
[He'll keep patting the other's shoulder. . . a few more times.]l>
Ah- you probably like that, right? There, there . . .
[pet, pet
yep]
no subject
Duuuuuuuuude! [A plaintive sound. His voice pitches up horribly at the end of that word. He drops to his knees, gazing at the ruined cake with dismay, fingers knotting in his hair.] What if that's the only food they give us!? Now we're all going to have to eat cake that tastes nasty AND has been all over the floor!
[The hurt and betrayal in his voice is so real.]
I am so slow
Don't be an idiot!
[Yeah, he did just swat this strange green kid across the head.]
That stuff's a crime against nature! Anyone would rather die than shove that in their mouth!
[Get it together.]
2--know when to fold them, buddy
Too late. When he started to choke, bug-eyed and turning very red, Liz sighed, levered herself off of her comfortable sofa seat, limped over, and gave him a well aimed slap to the back.
"Yeah, you should probably not do that. Seems our 'estimable hosts' got quite a few things wrong with the food. And the drinks."
so laaaate
. . . heroine. Hmm. He's cautious, but he probably would be with anybody. He at least knew one thing about her though, and that she was nice enough to help him out in this instance.]]
Th-thanks. [A deep breath, and an equally deep sigh. Air was so great.] Thanks.
brah isok!