![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
TEST DRIVE MEME #1
| TEST DRIVE #1 |
 The universe is fading into a bitter, cold blackness. Planet by planet, star by star, life is disappearing. For the good ship Koska IV there is no return voyage, there is no home, there is only forward. Behind it is the devastating emptiness of a life devoured, and the threat of an unseen enemy always at its heels. It can be argued perhaps that where the Kostka goes death follows, that it leaves ruin in its wake. If you ask Ripley, though, she'll say that they're only just managing to outrun the inevitable. Waking up aboard the ship feels strangely like waking up in a mausoleum. You emerge from your cryo pod like climbing out from a tomb, born new into a world long gone silent and still. The monolithic vessel now exists as a ghost town, halls dimly lit with emergency power, the only sounds being the mechanical ticking and groaning metal of the Kostka, laboring on like a wounded, burdened beast. Don’t mind the dust, the grime or the occasional blood splatter; cleaning is a nonessential function the droids don’t have energy to waste on. Kostka IV, once a transport designed for leisure cruises to and from new colonies, hobbles along on her last leg, urged on and on by the AI left to command her - R.I.P., affectionately termed ‘Ripley’ by her now absent crew. The sprawling, shadowy halls are only trafficked by Ripley’s minimal team of droids, the least that she can spare in straining her corrupted processes, much of both the ship and her systems in dire disrepair. Preserve organic life: Ripley’s primary, core directive and singular focus, the one goal above all else, which must be met, no matter the cost. And now, your goal too, as on Kostka IV, though crippled, Ripley is God, and the body your consciousness inhabits now is not your own - a semi-organic, synthetic host that morphs to fit the form you left, rather than the skin you were born to. You were saved from what is coming (for her, for you, for everyone), because Ripley needs more hands to keep this last ark of humanity afloat, as the ship struggles to find safe harbor, making stops along the way to pick up resources, to search for life. To find a home, and a future, for us all. ( Kostka is a panfandom, scifi, survival/horror jamjar, with elements of psychological and body horror (in varying, opt-out-able levels) peppered along with your general monster movie fair, driven by character interaction and influence with heavy meta-plot guided by regular mod events. Set on a mobile ship traversing through differing dimensions, characters are transported into semi-organic, synthetic bodies that replicate their canon form, able to be upgraded with powers through bonus AC rewards, and brought onto the crew to assist a debilitated AI in escaping a force destroying the multiverse, while they seek to salvage what remains of life. Events will feature some known canon worlds (like Resident Evil, Silent Hill, Bioshock, etc), along with some uniquely built between mods and player world-building. This game is invite-only, and we have a player cap of 30, with two character slots available for each player. The game has been inspired by: Battlestar Galactica, SOMA, Altered Carbon, Mass Effect, Passengers, Black Mirror, and various others. )
 A spark of electricity convulses through your body, and you jolt awake - underwater. Or, at least, that's most peoples' first guess. The color is more vibrant than water should be, and heavier, your body feeling sluggish against the weight and drag of it. Or perhaps you're just slower to respond, distant, limbs and mind still drowsy and reeling. The bright fluid doesn't sting when you blink, if anything, it's soothing, healing, calming. Fortunate, that, because you're going to need it. As the pod-like chamber you're held in starts to drain of the liquid, your senses start to flood back in. Awareness filters in like a window curtain holding back the morning sun, gradually easing away with each inch the water line lowers. There's something on your face - a mask, strapped around the back of your head, and other thinner tendrils against your cheeks, your ears, your neck. Narrow tubes are channeled through in your nostrils, and cables have slithered in through your ears, plugging into God knows what on the inside of your skull. There's a click that you feel more than hear, and the tension on them slacks, disconnected from somewhere inside you. Pull - up, back, to the side, whichever way you want - and they start to drag free. Far from the most pleasant feeling (likely leaves you wanting to crawl right out of your skin), but it doesn't quite hurt or burn, yet. That's for the inch wide tube shoved down your throat and held in place by the mask. It's also what's keeping you breathing underneath this blue space-goo though, so maybe don't go yanking it off until the lid of your pod opens. As the fluid drains, a voice crackles in over the sound of water oscillating around your ears. Not something played from a speaker anywhere, nothing projected on a screen, and whether the cables are still in your ears or not, you hear her all the same, as if she's more inside your head than she is broadcasting over a speaker inside the pod or coming muffled from outside. Even still, it's stuttered and interrupted, like the connection is weak, interference like static white noise buzzing through and covering up parts of sentences. ❝ I don’t have a lot of tim— RIP can’t spare the power to run this more t—, so pay attention. At the end of the long lines of cryo pods, the halls meet at a small medbay. It seems some merciful someone has left a stack of thin, cloth sheets on one of the medbay tables, so it's best you pick one up, towel off a bit, and then toga it, until you find something more durable. Hopefully, at some point, someone will discover a door leading to a storage room is unlocked. There, you'll find some very stylish, bright orange jumpsuits. With luck, you'll make it there before you freeze. NETWORK ⬡ AKA; welcome to Kostka IV, Have Some K-Pop While Projection is not yet available, all HOST bodies share free access to a neural network through which they can communicate via text, audio, or video. One of the first things the HOST platform will prompt the new mind housed inside it will be to set up a sequence of finger taps to open up the network HUD. The system is fairly intuitive, and all one need do is reach up a hand to touch the option they wish to select. For text, a keyboard overlay will appear in the HOST's visual perception, and, dy default, all messages will show: a name, a username, and an ID code. Feel free to make these up as you like. These can be adjusted, and a HOST can post anonymously to the network as well (no guarantees Ripley can't trace it back to the origin, but she's not going to tell). There are no real rules on the usage of this network, aside from don't try to hack your friends, or your not-friends (just don't hack anyone, okay, it's rude). Ripley does understand the human need to socialize, especially in trying and stressful circumstances, so have at it kids. Ripley, however, will be making one quick announcement that she will not be capable of replying to just yet - waking you jerks up took a lot out of her, so give her some time. The voice that you hear doesn't come through any speaker or intercom around you, nor is it originating from any of the bodies or droids nearby. You hear what sounds like a young girl speaking as if inside your head, and she sounds exhausted: ❝ ATTENTION ALL CREW: This is Ripley. MAINTENANCE ⬡ AKA; get that human skull out of the filtration tank pls, or u stepped on a droid and now it's mad. We're hoping you had time to get over the Bambi legs and get your space legs under you (as well as some space pants onto your body), because Ripley expended a lot of processing power to waking you up. That means it's up to you to make up the difference and get to work cleaning this place up to make it habitable for you and your new crewmates. It's been nothing but RIP and her droids for the last who knows how long, so those things that need to be functioning for the continued survival of organic bodies need to get working. Here's the chores on the docket: ⬡ Water Filtration; Hydration - always a must for you squishy, fleshy things, isn't it? The canal that runs through the Ring atrium is a large part of the reserves, and at one dark innocuous end an uncomfortable grinding noise can be heard. Beneath the surface of the water where there should be wall, there is instead an enormous fan about ten feet in diameter. It's grinding so loud the sound escapes the water barrier, and the cause is pretty clear. There's something wedged between one of the fan blades and the circular housing it's contained in. Someone will need to dive down ten or twelve feet and unstick the human skull stopping the filtration system from running. Beware, though — the second it's free the fan blades will begin spinning, sucking gallons upon gallons of water down into the depths. Hope you can swim!Good luck, have fun, try not to die because Ripley's exhausted from waking you up, and the droids suck at first aid— not to mention, very stiff bedside manner. VR / SAFETY TRAINING ⬡ AKA; ur gonna die a lot because space sucks. Let's face it, we weren't all born ready to space labor, or even space living. Loath as Ripley is to expend the power reserves on VR, the lot of you need to be trained up and the droids lack that personal touch that inspires excellence. RIP will be taking point on this assignment.It's a One Time Offer (well, we're calling it that now): the crew working away has freed up some CPU for Ripley, and because positive reinforcement is proven to work well on new puppies, she is rewarding you with Brain Stimulating Activities (aka safety training (or not)). This ship, especially dilapidated and running on emergency power as it is, is a dangerous place to be, even without the endless vacuum of space waiting outside to murder the absolute shit out of you. Characters will be given a VR visor, droids tapping a few buttons on a nearby console, and zipping away. Which, regretfully, means you won't be getting a warning or a say in what you're walking into, but walking into it you are, none-the-less. Sort of. Virtual walking. ⬡ Space walk; The Kostka IV has seen her fair share of daring battles and random asteroid clusters, leaving the frame of the beast of a ship pock-marked with damage. There's weakened structure, thermal panels missing, guns that don't want to get un-stuck and retract back into their housing. All kinds of nonsense. It's your job to tend to all that. Instructional videos will crop up on your HUD, walking you through your repairs, but that's assuming you can get to your spot at all, rather drift off into the sparkling black nether of the universe. Keep a good grip on the handrails outside. Now and again, something might give a quick, sharp shove, like hands against your side or your arm, attempting to dislodge you. Hold on tight, don't be tricked, and don't get lost. » NAVIGATION « General questions about the game can be directed to the FAQ, while TDM questions can be answered on the comment header below! Awakening threads for GOOD MORNING, STARSHINE, MAINTENANCE and NETWORK can be used as game canon so long as all parties agree. Arrivals are on Day 1, while the other two prompts can take place any time during the first 5 IC days of the game timeline. The VR PROMPTS diverge a bit from what we have planned for the opening and cannot be used to game canon, so please feel free to get creative with those! Reserves will open on: March 1st @ 8PM EST Applications will open on: March 5th @ 8PM EST |
no subject
Maybe it's because he's still recovering, but after that answer it's like he reaches capacity and his mind goes blank. Stalls out and dies like a car that ran out of gas, sputtering to a dead stop and falling silent.
Somewhere distantly, dimly, he knows what it means. The implication of it. To put that on top of everything else, though...
Mission mode. One clear objective. Stand up, get clothes. Something to do, to focus on, to block out the rest. Mutely, he nods. Shifts himself back out of Steve's space again only to find his legs don't wanna propel him upright, so he's got to careen forward a bit and press his palm to the wall for leverage. Even then it's a little precarious, and the strain of getting upright's almost embarrassing.
"You think about this? When we were younger and you couldn't—"
...bodies are new, still adjusting.
This is a ship. They're on a ship and "bodies are new", the city's gone, there are strangers draped in sheets and jumpsuits dragging blue jello around. Bucky's naked as the day he was born, can barely stand, fucked up his throat on a feeding tube or something. Steve doesn't remember any of the months they spent in a place that's apparently long gone (Jack and Will along with it?). None of that happened to me has him wondering about multiple Steves, about whether or not this one is his and if there's such a thing as his and not his, considering that other version of Steve he met that apparently died and left that other Bucky to pick up the shield, and--
Christ, just stop for a second. Just stop. ]
You know what's really getting me about this whole thing...
[ He starts, shaky-voiced and raspy like he's got laryngitis, knees wobbling and palm squeaking audibly along the wall as it bears most of his weight, almost falling again as he speaks. ]
...is that someone let you grow that beard out on purpose.
no subject
Tells himself they'll have time later.
(he's always having to tell himself that)
Steve has an easier time on his feet, having gotten in more steps on his walking practice. Maneuvers around Bucky to gently offer a shoulder, more steady now that there's not a metal vice around his neck. They can three-legged race-walk it down the hall, where he's seen people getting sheets. Doesn't know where Natasha found the jumpsuits. The walk's quiet. They've got the excuse that their throats are still aching.
There's a dozen or more people milling about, and Steve's still trying to find Sam's face among them. Maybe Bucky's looking for people too. Smart thing to do is to split up, figure out what they can and come back.
He's waiting by the pods an hour later with more questions than answers. Fingers are moving aimlessly in the air, like he's messing around with the HUD that's a part of their brains now, but he'll spot Bucky when he turns up. ]
no subject
He's also more or less come to terms with what Steve doesn't remember. Talking to Natasha somehow helped him process it, she'd echoed the phrase it wasn't me and while Steve might not have said it in those exact terms... It's close. Close enough. If he doesn't remember it, he isn't the same guy. No matter what, Bucky's not getting that guy back.
He's got a little grieving to do, something he'd postponed for weeks back in Duplicity stubbornly holding out hope that Steve might burst back through the penthouse door blessing him out for not listening and officially inciting the rebellion himself.
No matter what, though, Steve is still the most important person in the world (in space?) to him, full stop, so he'll figure it out. He'll deal with it. He tries not to let it flicker across his expression when he finally ambles over, dry and clean, hands shoved down into his pockets, about ten times more calm than he'd been in the hallway an hour ago. Maybe he gives himself away at least a little, though, when he settles solemnly against the pod at Steve's side without any dry remarks rolling off his tongue. ]
no subject
That distance he can't find a way to bridge is more tangible than when they had continents between them. ]
Catch that message? [ The second one beamed into their heads, the one about preserving life and being hunted. Acclimating to your new platforms. Fingernails dig into palms. Except for the fact that he's still not at 100% strength and stamina, he doesn't feel like he's in a different body. Even the HUD could be outside tech, an ear piece or some fancy StarkTech model, so long as he doesn't think about it too hard.
There's more, but this comes first. The saving the multiverse part, so long as they trust what they're being told. Which he can't say he does yet. ]
What do you think?
[ Both eyebrows lift. Bucky's the one that's got more interdimensional travel miles between them. ]
no subject
I don't know.
[ He admits honestly, a little darkly. ]
I think there's a lot of locked doors on this ship for someone saying they've got good intentions.
[ Surely it takes more power to keep things shut than to just leave them open, but he's not an engineer. On top of that, he thinks this isn't the first time he's been trans-dimensionally kidnapped for someone else's agenda, and at least the last bunch had the decency to call themselves LIEs. No beating around the bush there.
He thinks there was plenty of life everywhere he remembers being before this.
He thinks even if it's about to get wiped out, if these bodies are fake can they even procreate?
Why not just stop and pick up actual people?
Maybe most importantly: ]
I think if I gotta survive on eating the stuff I woke up in for longer than a week I'm cannibalizing you.
no subject
Is this still about the beard?
[ He's been getting a lot of flack for it today.
Well, they're on the same page on this part at least. And equally in the dark. Maybe Natasha'll have had better luck. More than likely they'll have to look at some of those locked doors, figure out just how secure they are. Maybe by then their abductor(s) will have more time to chat.
Eyebrows knit together and he stares at the floor. Another pause. ]
Jack found me.
[ Looking over at Bucky again. ]
no subject
Apparently Jack's not on the same page.
There's a brief, hitching moment of silence wherein is expression might bely a tiny ripple of concern, maybe fear, maybe just the tiniest little breath of panic before he schools it back down again in an instant. ]
...What'd he tell you?
[ Or worse, what'd he do? Shit, he forgot, he forgot to tell Jack not to say anything about it. Forgot to warn him, like some kind of goddamn moron.
To be fair, there were bigger things going on. ]
no subject
[ Add that to Bucky's earlier panic and he's painting a pretty awful picture of whatever place they all arrived from.
He thinks about Tony again, his insistence on not wanting to know anything about the future Steve came from. Steve's future, because whose to say that'd be Tony's or Bucky's or Natasha's at this point.
Starting to wish he read more up on Stephen Hawking's work.
Now he pauses, frowning at the ground again, arms still crossed and his features tense. ]
I don't need to know about it. [ If you don't wanna tell me. Won't make any of them go through the memories again if it's too much, and if it doesn't have anything to do with what's happening here. If he can't-
I'm sorry I'm not the guy you were looking for. ]
no subject
He knows Steve. He knows keeping a secret from him would earn him the disappointed eyes at least, especially one like Bucky's got. He knows with as many people from Duplicity here as there are it might eventually come out one way or another, and if he waits too long... misses the opportunity... If it doesn't come from him...
But Christ, they're in space. They're in space, they're in fake bodies in goddamn space because a preteen girl thinks something's killing the multiverse.
And Bucky's worried about talking about the fact that Steve jerked him off in their kitchen once or twice.
(or ten or twenty times at least.)
Plus he's over there crossing his arms, making that face, wearing a beard, looking disappointed or... put out, or something Bucky can't quite read because they're always, always, always off kilter since they both woke up. Whether it's in DC or Wakanda or Duplicity or Space, they're always just out of sync.
They didn't used to be.
This time it's in his power to set it right, isn't it? What kind of asshole would he be if he didn't even try?
You're always the guy I'm looking for.
He breathes in slow and long through the nose. Holds his breath there with his chest full. Exhales little faster, eyes dipping down to the floor, lips parting for a long moment before hesitant words come out. ]
I think you probably ought to know.
[ He admits finally, sealing in an uncomfortable feeling somewhere around the middle of his chest. ]
I'm just... trying to think about where it ranks on top of all this.
[ Because in case he hasn't mentioned it in a minute: they're in goddamn space. ]
no subject
Bucky's answer gets a mixed reaction from his face: surprise, the what might be a tinge of guilt or relief or both, and mostly more tension. He wants to say something like are you sure? or you don't have to and any other assurance for the both of them that he's not trying to guilt him into something he doesn't want to do. More second guessing, and instead he buries the impulse, settling on a frown and his gaze turned inward.
If they're being honest, they were never much for talking out big subjects. Not when Bucky was leaving for war, not after Azzano or what happened in that room, not about anything between the train and Berlin. Time, or a lack of it, wasn't even an excuse for all of those. Blame their upbringing. For Steve, maybe it was— for once, a fear of pushing too hard. The same one he has right now.
From what little he's gathered, the city sounds too close to any of those topics. The kind that makes him wish like hell he could've been there to somehow change things.
Impossible wishes. He's had time to think about all of them. And if they'll never be out of his system entirely, he knows to keep them out of wherever this conversation goes.
Because Bucky offers and the decision seems made. He lifts his gaze after a few seconds, still frowning, still with his arms crossed. Wasn't ever disappointment in him, or none of it directed at Bucky anyway. ]
Can't tell you. But if you're sure— at least it's quiet.
[ Relatively. They'll have to take what they can get. ]
no subject
He plucks at the skin absently anyway, but can't find purchase.
They're in space, there are things that are so much more important than his issues, what he went through, what he feels. At the same time, though, he's got no idea how long they'll have this peace. This time. Something could smash through the hull five minutes from now and his shot'll be blown. He's way too used to losing chances, knows to take advantage of moments when he can get them.
It's just...
Now? Right now, right off the bat?
Where the hell is he even supposed to start? Where they both woke up, how they got to the point they did? The history of duplicity, what it's capable of? Jack and Will? The contracts? The talk they had about it all before they started, or the sixteen other talks they had sometime in between?
Maybe just... maybe he ought to give Steve one last out before he goes spilling it all. He opts for a warning instead of the bold-faced truth of it. ]
It's a lot. It's... If we start talking about it, you're gonna have a million questions and there's no putting it back in the box once it's out.
[ Which seems pretty grave, but he's always been pretty blunt. Forthright, when he can help it. ]
You sure you wanna do this now?
no subject
He can only offer a half smile, the affection there genuine if not enough to tip the mood. ]
Got nowhere else I gotta be.
[ He's read the file. Seen the video. Whatever this is, he can weather it.
But he'd be lying if he said you're not making him anxious as hell right now. ]
no subject
Okay, then. He's never been anything but up front about things when he has the chance. They may not be big talkers, no long heart to hearts, but Bucky's always tried to be as transparent about his feelings on things in the brief moments he gets to express them.
Yeah, 'cause you got nothing to prove.
Because I'm with you until the end of the line.
Not without you.
I don't know if I'm worth all of this.
I know. But I did it.
I can't trust my own mind.
I think I've got it bad for you. I think I always have.
Might as well just come out and say it, then. Take the rest step by step, but bite the bullet and get the big part out there. ]
We—
[ Screaming. Sudden, abrupt, piercing screaming. Not from him obviously, but from half a dozen pods down as woman collapses over the side of one, wailing and then devolving into hysterical, desperate sobs.
Waited too long. Missed it. Shouldn't have been a coward and stalled for that second out. ]
no subject
This is how it goes. ]