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redshiftlogs2019-12-08 07:10 pm
modblob) wrote in redshiftlogs2019-12-08 07:10 pm
december 2019. welcome to the void.
Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Sixth Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of December 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.
What: Sixth Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of December 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. the generic holiday cheer prompt.
It's a dark, quiet, uneventful night. Only those up and about in the wee hours will notice something odd starting in the park.
It's snowing.
The phenomenon seems to be coming from a small bank of unmoving clouds hanging suspended above the trees and lake. A cloud that, upon closer inspection by any scientists in the room, appears to be made of harmless nanites whose sole purpose is to unleash a cheery, blustery kind of weather that remains mostly contained to the park.
Some bots are out serving hot chocolate, cider, flavored snow cones, and other small baked treats. Others are building a solid-looking bit of scaffolding that the snow is rapidly turning into a sledding ramp. In fact, there are sleds ready and waiting at the foot of the slide. The smaller ponds have frozen over in a sharp cold snap that came with the nanites' release, and there are other bots handing out ice skates - careful, though, because one of them is a chef bot and he's made the blades of the skates ridiculously sharp. At least they'll glide well?
Around the middle of the day, the intercoms squeal loudly, crackle, and start pouring generic seasonal music out into the air. Is it for Hanukkah? Christmas? Kwanzaa? Some strange holiday no one has heard of? Who knows, since half of it is in alien languages, but man, it sure is peppy! And kind of annoying after a while! Maybe someone should hack the system and change the music up?
It's snowing.
The phenomenon seems to be coming from a small bank of unmoving clouds hanging suspended above the trees and lake. A cloud that, upon closer inspection by any scientists in the room, appears to be made of harmless nanites whose sole purpose is to unleash a cheery, blustery kind of weather that remains mostly contained to the park.
Some bots are out serving hot chocolate, cider, flavored snow cones, and other small baked treats. Others are building a solid-looking bit of scaffolding that the snow is rapidly turning into a sledding ramp. In fact, there are sleds ready and waiting at the foot of the slide. The smaller ponds have frozen over in a sharp cold snap that came with the nanites' release, and there are other bots handing out ice skates - careful, though, because one of them is a chef bot and he's made the blades of the skates ridiculously sharp. At least they'll glide well?
Around the middle of the day, the intercoms squeal loudly, crackle, and start pouring generic seasonal music out into the air. Is it for Hanukkah? Christmas? Kwanzaa? Some strange holiday no one has heard of? Who knows, since half of it is in alien languages, but man, it sure is peppy! And kind of annoying after a while! Maybe someone should hack the system and change the music up?
b. the body heat trope prompt.
As the day wears on toward evening, the nanite winter storm starts to gather a little more force, sending cold seeping through the halls of Anchor. There are pockets of warmth here and there - notably, for once, the agricultural areas are largely unaffected thanks to their temperature regulators--but most of Anchor has a wintery chill, and snow is starting to bluster across the levels from bottom to top. Temperatures continue to drop when the suns go down.
The bots are out being helpful, though they can't stop the storm. They're rolling around handing out blankets and thermoses of warm drinks. Unfortunately, it's one blanket and one thermos per two people. Better get cosy - it's going to be a long, cold night!
The bots are out being helpful, though they can't stop the storm. They're rolling around handing out blankets and thermoses of warm drinks. Unfortunately, it's one blanket and one thermos per two people. Better get cosy - it's going to be a long, cold night!
c. the terrifying monster attack prompt.
The cold has woken up some creatures that have been slumbering away in one of the sealed-off areas of the labs. They couldn't get through the door that kept them caged, but they sure could freeze the windows and escape that way when they got cold enough to break. The little critters make a beeline for the park, prepared to wreak havoc-
If eating snow and ice and rolling snow into tiny balls for meal stockpiles is havoc.
These little creatures look conspicuously like the western dragons of Earth, though most are no bigger than a person's forearm. Their wings - some strange shade of white that sparkles when they move - seem largely decorative. They use them to communicate, to posture, and to keep themselves balanced when they rear up on their hind legs, but none of them appear able to fly. They're a mix of colors, blue and silver and white, some of them with a variety of shades swirling down their bodies, others with one color on their bellies and contrasting colors on their back and head. Some have splotches, or speckles, or tiger stripes of blue. They breathe steam and can freeze things with their clawed forepaws.
Also, if you feed them a flavored snow cone, they will follow you forever. No, really. You'll have yourself an undyingly loyal new pet.
If eating snow and ice and rolling snow into tiny balls for meal stockpiles is havoc.
These little creatures look conspicuously like the western dragons of Earth, though most are no bigger than a person's forearm. Their wings - some strange shade of white that sparkles when they move - seem largely decorative. They use them to communicate, to posture, and to keep themselves balanced when they rear up on their hind legs, but none of them appear able to fly. They're a mix of colors, blue and silver and white, some of them with a variety of shades swirling down their bodies, others with one color on their bellies and contrasting colors on their back and head. Some have splotches, or speckles, or tiger stripes of blue. They breathe steam and can freeze things with their clawed forepaws.
Also, if you feed them a flavored snow cone, they will follow you forever. No, really. You'll have yourself an undyingly loyal new pet.
B
[ The voice comes from a figure huddled under a jacket, trying his best to conserve heat, and scowling mildly at the display. The little robots seemed to have an odd notion of who to deliver these gifts to, as they'd rolled right past when he was here in this section of hallway by himself.
Probably damaged programming, or some such. ]
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What are you, a doctor?
[He gestures meaninglessly at him with his free hand.]
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[ He regards Scaramouche, his metal exterior, and his eyes narrow slightly.
Tch. An omnic. He's never had much regard for them. ]
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[Scaramouche's attention returns to the capsule he's holding. He swirls the mysterious substance around a little. He'll be heading for the bar soon to spice it up, probably. Whatever it is.]
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[ He's done. Shown his one shred of empathy for the day, and now he's fresh out. So don't mind him huddling further under his jacket and ignoring the fact that somehow, the bots seem to think this creature is worthy of the additional warmth.
Looking after their own, perhaps. Nevermind the sense in it. ]
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Hey, are you new or something?
[He's positive he hasn't seen this guy around. Could be he wasn't looking hard enough...]
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[ Really. He'd applaud, but he's trying to keep his hands warm in his pockets. But the look of general disdain Scaramouche gets in turn says enough on its own. ]
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Do you like it here?
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[ It could be worse. That doesn't make any of this good, so far as he's concerned. He's trapped, in some long-abandoned pit in a radiated wasteland with...creatures such as this. And slowly freezing on top of it all.
Surely, he is being mocked. ]
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[Scaramouche says as he finally looks over and gives the man--and his tattoos--his full attention, his voice deepening a little with suggestion.]
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[ Inside, with the snow, it is not so terrible. But nothing he would marvel at.
Feeling the thing's eyes roaming over him, Hanzo's eyes narrow further. No funny ideas, now. ]
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You'll learn to like it, babe.
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[ Only a madman would be glad to see this place. Or perhaps a machine, who feels nothing. ]
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[Shifting his weight to one leg and resting a hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip, Scaramouche gives him another cursory glance, smiling benignly.]
You an archer?
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[ He huffs again. ]
Of course I am. Why would I be carrying a bow, otherwise?
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[He jerks his head toward a gun on the ceiling that looks like it's seen better days. It's a fair distance away, but it isn't a moving target; he isn't proposing a challenge here.]
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[ But he doesn't perform tricks on command, too proud for that. His eyes narrow at the mechanical man, expression still dour. ]
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[ The corner of his lip curls slightly. ]
And I see no reason I should need to prove myself to you.
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And this one seems especially shifty. ]
To what end? I do well enough alone.
[ So he thinks, at least. Clearly, solitude has done nothing for his social skills. ]
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[Figuratively speaking.]
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[ Grouch levels: rising. ]
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