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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.
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"Your universe was wiped out by magic rocks?"
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Which is a thing Peter hasn't really been letting himself actively think about since it happened, ssoooo now he's on that.
"Didn't, ahhh... didn't exactly go as planned, that one."
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"I'm sorry man. That.. sucks."
Two can play at understatements.
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And it did suck. It still sucks. Peter's generally pretty good at focusing on the here and now and leaving his past behind him. Every now and then though, something reminds him of everything he's lost and everything he's failed at and WELL SORRY PRATT, now Peter's all mopey.
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"A lot of things are. Not that it makes it any better, but at least you're not alone. And if it's not pointless and ridiculous, it's just stupid. Back home Joseph wanted to stay in bunkers for twelve years after a nuclear blast that probably isn't gonna happen. Do you know how much food a hundred people need for twelve years? It's way more than a bunker can hold." Everything about his plan was stupid, Pratt had thought so even when under Jacob's control. Even Jacob seemed to realize some of it didn't make sense - humoring his brother instead.
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"It's not impossible, but it might be like, impossible adjacent. You'd need years of planning, enough manpower to build bunkers big enough to accommodate hundreds of people and enough rations to sustain them for that long."
At least trying to crunch the numbers for this in his head is giving Peter something to focus on other than how much life sucks, so that's nice.
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He hopes his corpse stinks up the place.
"We're not doing too bad here. We have enough food for everyone, there's supplies, shelter. It's actually a hell of a lot better than where I was before Hadriel."
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Like sure, there's plenty of stuff for him to swing from and shit, but he's still stuck in a hole in the ground. He misses sky scrapers and dirty pigeons and bad drivers and being pissed about late trains.
"as much as I complain, I'm glad it's better here for you."
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Basically his mantra at this point. Keeps him from completely falling apart.
"I'm gonna eat a shitton of cookies and not think about it."
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"Sounds like a good idea to me, let's just do that for a while."