september 2019. welcome to the void.

[modblob]

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Third Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of September 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. turrets.

That power surge kicked off some sh... stuff, all right. It took a while for the systems to cycle back on, but two new areas of Anchor are now accessible and usable. One of them is nice and relaxing and safe, and we'll get to that one in a minute. The other one, addressed first, is not very nice and not very relaxing and definitely not safe.

The internal defense systems on the upper levels have come to life, and have targeted anyone within their range as a hostile entity. Get ready to run the gauntlet if you want to turn them off - you'll have to dodge lasers, bullets, and aggressive defense bots (that can be rewired and/or rebooted to assist characters instead of trying to murder them). The reward? Getting to the heavily protected (think many many murderbots and lasers) security control room. If you can make it, you'll be able to reboot the internal defenses, turning off the aggressive targeting and having access for the first time to surveillance of almost all of Anchor. Those areas your characters didn't know were there? Revealed. Those dense patches of jungle-like growth in the agricultural center? You've got a spotlight into their heart.

Though, huh, not all the cameras seem to be working. What's with those screens that show up from time to time that are nothing but static?

Oh well, doesn't really matter, does it?

b. hot springs episode.

One of the areas adjacent to the bar and intimacy lounge has been sputtering on and off ever since the power surge. One evening, with a loud crack and a humming sound that slowly dissipates, the lights come on and water starts flowing down the artificial waterfall into the fountain out front. The spa is back online!

The lobby is inviting and zen, with holographic walls that depict scenic locations (some of them very unlike Earth), with fountains splashing delicately on either side of the door. The attendants are slightly malfunctioning bots, but the most harm they'll do is bring you six towels when you ask for one, or a bucket of massage oil to work on those knots in your back with.

There are three areas in the spa, each of them fully-outfitted with towels, robes of all sizes, fuzzy slippers, the works. One has all the amenities of a Turkish bath, right down to the fantastically arched roofs and mosaics of Istanbul. One is designed not unlike a Japanese hot spring, though the spring is heated artificially rather than naturally. The springs are large enough to be communal in some areas and small enough to be private in others, varying in depth from deep enough to swim on one end and shallow enough to sit on the bottom on the other. All hot springs have a stone shelf around the edges where those who don't want to swim can sit. The last area is more Western, with steam rooms, saunas, massage tables, and mud baths for the adventurous.

One thing all of these areas have in common: the settings on virtually everything can be adjusted to taste. Not in the traditional way, either. The steams and waters can be tweaked to be soporific, can serve as muscle relaxants, can ease anxiety, and can even bolster moods. None of these effects are involuntary, and none of them are brought on by drugs - it's more an advanced mix of pheromones and harmless compounds that can affect a single person or a given pool or room. Also, the baths and hot springs have adjustable bubble settings. The water colors can change, some of them even allowing characters to dye their hair the color that's been selected for the tub without staining their skin. Bubbles of all kinds can rise up out of the water, from the foamy comfort of childhood bubble baths to hovering golden bubbles that chime when you pop them. Characters can choose from a variety of bath salts, scents, and oils - the spas were designed not just for relaxation, but for pure and simple fun.

c. joe's dirt.

So you've survived the security malfunction. You've washed off the dirt and anxiety at the spa. But the newly reactivated security stations throughout Anchor have revealed something odd. There's a blip in the power systems in one area of the agricultural level, like something is siphoning off power from the main lines. Tracking down the source in the deep tangle of underbrush won't be easy, and there may be a few mutated, fanged, clawed cattle that maneuver shockingly well between the trees, but eventually you'll come to a breach in Anchor's wall. At first it just looks like a crack, but it's large enough to squeeze through and there's the darkness of an open space behind it. A tunnel, leading down into the earth outside, well below surface level and thus largely safe.
Wires run along the roof and floor, though the tunnel itself is dark. Walk long enough and you'll come to a wider space, open enough for two or three people to move around comfortably at the same time. It's still dark, lit only by screens that show the same security feeds that are available at the stations throughout the city. And others. Angles on the surface that show Anchor from a distance, and other visuals that don't show Anchor at all, trained instead on massive structures or formations or lakes out on the surface somewhere. But there's something more disturbing: there are cameras set to record some people's rooms. And the only rooms that are shown are occupied.

Someone has been here, recently enough to track where new people have moved in.

On the floor in one corner, there's a crumpled photograph of a man some might recognize as Creepy Joe, happy and whole, with a little girl sitting on his shoulder. It looks like it's been stamped into the dirt.

Navigation.

Comments

Scaramouche | OTA | Will Match Format

[numerouno]

[With an unfair amount of gruelling effort, a robot gradually picks itself up off the floor.]

Nngh... Who turned out the lights?

[A hand reaches up to adjust the conical hat on its head. A perfunctory check for the presence of the sheathed dagger on its belt; it can already feel the weight of the sword on its back. The bot then rises to its full height. It's a height of seven to eight feet befitting the star of any show. Hands brush at its front to get rid of any dirt and straighten out the wrinkles in its coat.

That bot...

...is the number one bot. That's right! He's Aku's favorite! The one, the only: Scaramouche the Merciless!]

Man, what just happened? [He hasn't the foggiest. Coming out of the unusual daze, he looks around.] Wait, where am I?

[Eyes going wide, he turns to the cracked screen on the wall and watches the recording that's playing. He takes it all in, his hand moving to rest on the handle of the blade in his belt.]

I. The Halls of Anchor (Surface/Topmost/Mid Levels)

[The state of the lobby (or whatever) didn't leave with him high hopes of getting the red-carpet treatment. But after all the trouble they just put him through, he's put out even more by the fact he has to show himself around.

So Scaramouche hits the halls of Anchor, curious but vigilant as he gives each area a once-over, making remarks to himself. All he knows so far is this: first of all, the real thing doesn't live up to what was shown in that video. And secondly, something must have gone down since then; if he had to guess, it has something to do with the bullet holes in the walls.

The landscape outside the city has him questioning whether this colony is on Earth or not. Where is he?

Help him out.]

II. Turrets

[Scaramouche is still being given the grand tour by none other than himself when he hears the sounds of gunfire resonating from the upper levels of the compound.

He calmly moseys on over to the scene, arriving a few minutes later. Standing out of range of the nearest turret, he notices someone hiding in its blind spot who may or may not be injured. Which is it? Scaramouche doesn't care. Beaming now, he calls out to them:]

Hey, babe! What's shakin'?

TURRETS

[itsnotaonesie]

[The dude hiding in the blind spot right now would be this guy over here in the spidery-themed armor. He's just taking a breather before he tries to dive into this madness again, and he looks over when he hears someone calling out to him. Well huh, Peter's never seen this guy before, but he seems friendly, SO! He just waves at him all friendly like, why not.]

Oh, hi! Well uh, the security systems seem to be going absolutely bonkers and the turrets are shooting at everything that moves. I wouldn't advise going over there unless you really like trying to dodge bullets.

I-- I'm kidding, please don't go over there and get shot.

[numerouno]

[Scaramouche hears another turret rotate and fire at something--or someone--further down the hall. Without missing a beat, he raises his voice so the kid can hear him over the racket, his gleaming smile firmly in place as he rests a hand on the blade at his hip.]

You don't say! Hey, what's with the get-up, huh?

[itsnotaonesie]

[Peter's a little concerned that the turrets might start shooting at this guy, but so far they only seem to be focused on him. Which hes okay with, really. So, he's just going to stay put for a moment.]

Well, I figure it's probably Halloween somewhere in the universe, and I just wanna be prepared, y'know? Also the armor protects me from lasers. Mostly.

[SHRUG. He's got a couple smoking holes in his armor right now, but it could be worse.]

So, you new here? This is a weird time for small talk, but I'm gonna do it anyway.

[numerouno]

Practical attire. That's smart thinking.

[Since this kid is being so forthcoming, Scaramouche has decided that he's going to make an effort and stay on his good side for now. Anything to keep him talking.]

No time like the present, right? Let me get to the point: I'm new and could use an induction.

[itsnotaonesie]

[He just likes being helpful! And he also likes chatting! So this situation is a double win for him, even if he is being shot at.]

Oh! Well, welcome to Anchor! Place was abandoned until a bunch of us got here and started trying to make it, y'know, livable again. Uh, housing is on the lower level, if you still need to find a place to stay, watch out for the mutant cows on the agricultural level, don't leave the station without a radiation suit-- wait, are you a robot? You look like a robot. Probably still use a radiation suit when you leave, the radiation's been known to totally screw with robots. Uh, this thing with the turrets isn't normal, promise.

[numerouno]

[Abandoned, huh? He files away that little tidbit.]

Okay, here's my first question: what planet are we on?

[itsnotaonesie]

Good question! Unfortunately, I don't have the answer for that one yet. Might be in one of the encrypted logs we haven't been able to crack yet.

[It's so abandoned that nobody even knows where they hell we are. That's comforting, right?]

[numerouno]

Right. [His next question, complete with airquotes:] Any other "colonies" on this rock besides us?

[The turret above the kid restlessly shifts to and fro, keen on finding itself a target. Scaramouche tilts his head back to watch it once he notices its movements becoming erratic.]

[itsnotaonesie]

Uh, if there are, we don't have a way to contact them yet, and we can't exactly go out to try to find them on foot because this planet is kind of a nightmare. There's the surface radiation, and all the mutated freaky animals, and I saw a mutated dude out there once who was kind of polite but also kind of terrifying. What is that turret doing? Is it just going nuts? I can't see it.

[MAN he feels bad that he doesn't have any good answers for this guy so far, but he's also partly distracted by peeking out of his hidey hole and trying to see what that turret is up to.]

[numerouno]

Seems like it's losing its cool.

[Is it going haywire or is it getting antsy? In a smooth motion, Scaramouche crouches down to the floor and straightens again with a stray piece of rubble in his fist. He tosses it once in his palm before throwing it in range of the gun's sensors. The turret swivels sharply and fires a shot with show-stopping accuracy, incinerating the rock to dust the instant it hits the ground.

Scaramouche's eyes widen. This is military-grade hardware.]

[itsnotaonesie]

[Oh hey, a distraction! That's a good idea. Peter only has like a split second to react, but as soon as he hears that shot fire he hops out of his hiding place, shoots a strand of web at the turret, and yanks it right out of the ceiling. It smashes to the ground, and Peter relaxes a bit.]

I can fix that later. Thanks for the distraction, man!

[numerouno]

[Scaramouche was only testing the goods. He stares at the turret as it's torn from the ceiling, watching its descent and peering over at it with a frown after it crashes. He doesn't really hear the kid.]

Don't mention it, [comes his distracted reply. He redirects his attention to the hallway ahead.] So now what?

I. Somewhere in the Topmost Levels

[abheirrant]

[Though lingering near the Agricultural area, Carlisle hasn't yet worked up the nerve to venture very far in there, preferring to stay near the entrance. He has yet to test the reach of the necrotic energies that keep him animated, and though knowing he should test them so he knows how to control them -- and in turn, how to use them to keep himself as alive as can be -- he can't bring himself to do it. His very existence is a perversion of nature, even if, if this place of other worlds and constructs, it's somewhat inconsequential.

For now. He cannot help but worry he will lose himself again, which might not happen if he knows how to manipulate his energies as they are now. But he doesn't want to do that because it feels terribly, terribly wrong. It is an awful conundrum, and one he'd ponder over longer if not for the fact that he realizes -- somewhat belatedly -- that he's nearly run into someone also wondering the level. His hat hides his face for a moment, but he seems to also be wearing a helmet? Who wears a helmet with a hat on top of it?

... or so (internally) asks the man covered nearly from head to toe to hide his undead status. Perhaps he shouldn't judge.]

My apologies for nearly walking right into you. My mind was elsewhere, as were my eyes.

[numerouno]

[He has his phone out again. He's already tried several numbers. He's tried Aku's digits more than once; if he can get through to him, then Scaramouche can definitely say he's on Earth right now.

This city won't be around for long once the boss learns about it.

There's a voice beside him. Is someone talking to him? Rather than acknowledge the stranger with a glance, he lifts his free hand and shoos them away with it.]

Yeah, yeah. Run along, babe.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle gets a good look at this stranger's hand as he attempts to shoo him away. Oh. Oh, he's wearing armored... gauntlets? It almost looks like he's got mechanical hands, much like the constructs that were wandering around the baths. Imagine that, someone with construct hands. Not that it's an impossibility, of course. There were people with what could be boiled down to "constructed limbs" in his world, after all. Prosthetic appendages weren't terribly common, and rarer were those who had limbs imbued with magic, making them almost lifelike in their movements, but both were present in some form.

This guy, on the other hand, is something else entirely. Somehow, Carlisle's aggravation at this fellow's lack of manners wins out against his budding fear that this may be some kind of elaborate, humanoid construct; he crosses his arms, indignant.]

The very least you could do is pay attention when someone is apologizing to you.

[numerouno]

[He isn't going to dignify that with a response.

No bars, his phone keeps telling him. Scaramouche might be out of reception, but he's not out of luck! A few moments pass as he returns the phone to his pocket. Then he turns around to finally look down on the fella who's bugging him.]

Are you still here?

[With his hands on his hips, he bends down a little, leaning his self-satisfied smirk just a bit closer to this cat's face.]

And I thought I was persistent.

[abheirrant]

[Oh yes, Carlisle is still here and still waiting for that apology because that's just the kind of undead man he is. He is rewarded for his patience when the tall fellow in what he assumes to be armor turns to address him. And then he leans over. And then he grins.

And it's about then that Carlisle decides maybe this was a terrible idea, and he should have just kept walking. The helmet moves too much like a real face, as do his eyes. The plates go all the way down his neck. Why would one wear such elaborate armor under clothing? It's almost as if he's—

As if he were constructed in some... oh. Oh dear.

Carlisle leans away from that smirk, taking a step back so he doesn't fall over.]

Aheh. Perhaps I have m- made a mistake in t- talking to a thing— being? Individual! An individual like yourse- self.

[How does one address a construct who looks like a person? Does it count as a person any more than an undead? The world may never know.]

[numerouno]

[Oh ho ho! Looks like somebody's got a bad case of stage fright. Scaramouche's smiling expression shifts suddenly from one of idle amusement to one of unreserved, mocking delight. He straightens to his full height, towering over the man.]

Well, baby, don't keep me waiting; what else did you want to say to me?

[abheirrant]

[Him being a construct is intimidating enough; him being a person-shaped construct who dwarfs Carlisle with ease is utterly terrifying. While he's often considered to be on the tall end in any given social situation, Carlisle feels absolutely miniature by comparison to this fellow and his wide, derisive smile. And is he wearing heels? Why does he need heels when he's already tall?

Carlisle's frame shrinks further as he cowers, his fingers tightening on the strap of his satchel.]

Nothing. It's- it's nothing important, obviously, or I'd, ah. I'd tell you rather than babbling on about... nothing. Which is what I'm doing. You know what? How about I just go. Away. From here and you. Not you, specifically, but um. Right.

[And with that out of the way, he decides it is time to do just that, side-stepping this giant of a robot, never turning his back to him juuuuuust in case.]

[numerouno]

[Scaramouche savors the man's terror with a cool satisfaction. He knows it's fear he's looking at; let's just say he knows it when he sees it.

The last of the man's nervous chatter is allowed to hang in the air while he tries to make his getaway. The bot waits until he's left his vision. Then, without turning around, he calls him back.]

Hey, hold up.

[abheirrant]

[As commanded, Carlisle stops dead in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening. Right, nothing to worry about. Just an overwhelmingly tall, constructed man met in a futuristic world Carlisle knows very little about. One who, after being chided in a moment of annoyance, seemed to revel in his sudden turn into fear. No reason to panic.

Carlisle slowly turns and give the aforementioned constructed man an inquisitive look as he points to himself in a way that says, Who, me?]

[numerouno]

[Scaramouche doesn't spare the man so much as a glimpse over the shoulder. He heard him stop in his tracks; that means he has his undivided attention.]

You owe me another apology.

[abheirrant]

[Carlisle may be petrified from the legs down by his fear of constructs, but said construct's words rile the rest of him with their pure audacity.]

Excuse me?

[numerouno]

[At long last, Scaramouche gives him a backward glance.]

I think I've earned it, babe.

[The words almost roll out of him as a haughty laugh. Now he's facing the guy again, resting a hand on the blade at his hip out of habit.]