sailmods: (Default)
sailmods ([personal profile] sailmods) wrote in [community profile] sail_ooc2022-05-21 09:48 pm
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TEST DRIVE MEME #3



1. you're the only one you owe (GUEST STARRING: [personal profile] selenokinesis and [personal profile] creepyoldguy)

[you wake up.

it doesn't matter where you were before. going to bed? dying? opening the door to face a great evil? same result. you wake up in a soft bed with starched sheets in a cool, darkened room, sunlight peeking out from behind thick curtains. maybe you're alone; maybe you aren't. maybe you immediately notice the folded paper on the bedside table near your head. if you don't, you better fix that real quick: you won't be able to even open the door before you read it.

the note itself is written in a neat hand on white card stock; there is a stylized logo of a ship with the words SERENA ETERNA printed underneath. the note reads as follows:

Dear Passengers(s),

You'll be unable to leave your cabin until you read this note. Congratulations on making it past the first step. Keep reading if you wish, as I have information to share with you, as a fellow passenger stuck aboard this ship. Or don't continue reading, and burn the note. I'm not particularly invested either way, especially if you choose to throw away valuable warnings.

Watch out for the Captain.

Be cautious what you sign up for.

If you die, you'll come back to life eventually, though I would recommend you try not to die.

Your life is the Captain's plaything.

Do not think for one moment that someone isn't watching you.

With that aside, I am now contractually obligated to tell you the following: You will find a life jacket within your cabin's closet, and you are required to bring it with you to your assigned muster station on deck one. A companion and I will take you through the drill. If you cannot find us, look for a tall male with white hair and blue eyes and a friendly-looking man with unkept brown hair and a winning smile.

Respectfully,
Moon Master Ebalon


you walk to deck one. you have no other choice: every time you try to step in a direction some unseen being considers "not towards deck one," you find your legs no longer move, staying stock still, frozen. whether compelled quickly by curiosity, or delayed by pure stubbornness, the result is the same, and you are left milling around with other similarly curious or stubborn people.

you see two people standing at the front of the crowd: an exhausted-looking man with white hair who seems rather displeased that he's been roped into this, and a man with a wide grin, bright green tips on his hair, and amber eyes. the latter is waving cheerfully, having an armful of leis. he quite happily puts them around people’s necks and while they’re distracted, attempts to dip them into a kiss.

as he’s basically a walking corpse, and smells like one to boot, it’s not exactly hitting the jackpot. but, he does at least listen to the word “NO”.

the tired-seeming man ignores this and announces over the drone of chattering passengers like yourself,]


Welcome to the Serena Eterna. Do try to enjoy your stay here; it is rather permanent in nature, huhu.

[and from next to his companion, the… er, overly-affectionate man who sounds as though he smokes ten packs a day rasps,]

You’re all doomed!

[you touch the lei. rooster feathers, lotus seeds, and a carved circle of something white and hard, linked onto a silk string.

after the duo complete the drill, you'll find that your legs suddenly obey your command, for what that's worth.

welcome aboard, passenger. we hope you enjoy your stay.]


2. one by one they'll do you in

[it starts, as most things do, with a table lamp. floating down a hallway, or the length of the promenade. ambling at a distinct clip: one-two-three-KICK, one-two-three-KICK.

and that's... not immediately concerning. after all, things float around here all the time; usually plates and drinks, but maybe the shades want to mix it up a bit. the lamp is alone for about a half hour before it is joined by others. a pillow. some knickknack from the ship store. Friday's clipboard. an empty vodka bottle. all have lined up, one in front of the other, and lead a procession snaking around the ship, growing with each passing hour. anyone familiar with the concept would begin to recognize it as a massive conga line.

there is a small chance you will want to join of your own free will. most likely, you will not want that. this does not matter: something compels you, like pins and needles in your feet, to join the dance. and once you have joined in... your body fights your mind on the subject, even as it grows more and more tired.

you pass by a familiar face. they could help pull you out. or you could pull them in.]


3. the price of vice foretold

[the scent of citrus and coconut rum hangs heavy in the air. there is a new storefront on the promenade, tucked between Sand Dollars and John's in a place where you are very certain there was not enough space to tuck a store before.

the clothes for sale are... a lot. like, a lot a lot. but, there are quite a lot of choices, though they do seem to repeat a little, once you've gone in far enough. in fact, even if you actively attempt to find it, you can't seem to find the back of the store. you can see a wall, sure, but it never seems to get any closer, even as you walk towards it.

be forewarned: the infinite tommy bahama does not have food or water.]
serialskiller: (exasperated)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-23 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
It aches, seeing that all this is possible. That there's places where humans have figured it out. Where they work together and...

It aches deeply, hands stilling and eyes stinging and watering. In none of those societies would cyborg constructs have been invented, and perhaps that's for the very best. No sexbots ComfortUnits, no murderbots SecUnits and CombatUnits. Just people, people thriving.

What is the point, in showing me this? What is your purpose here?
relativedimension: (Default)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-23 10:54 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a sad cooing chime coming from the direction of the center console. She wants to extend a comforting sensation into its mind, but she's not sure if she should.

{ #statement; response("hope"); }
Edited 2022-05-23 22:54 (UTC)
serialskiller: (negotiating)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-23 11:25 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't need hope. I'm fine.

You know, sitting on the floor of the TARDIS trying not to cry is something that fine people do. Or fine not-people.

(Somewhere, deep, deep in the core of its being, the thought is this: if it was a person, if all the cyborg constructs were people, then they were being abused. If they were tools, they were just being used.)
relativedimension: (Default)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-23 11:43 pm (UTC)(link)

The temptation to make a snarky comment about how totally not fine Rin is is strong. She resists.

After all, this isn't exactly new to her. The Doctor is "fine" all the time, despite the fact that they're telepathically linked and she can feel how much of a lie it is. But then, she assumes Rin is lying to itself more than to her, just like the Doctor.

Instead she offers to transfer it some entertainment from her own universe. At least it will provide some variety. Especially as it's from countless different times and planets and species.

serialskiller: (wtf)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-24 12:36 am (UTC)(link)
It accepts the offer, and gets back to her repairs, watching one of the shows she's offered.

It's just...a whole different universe. Murderbot couldn't have imagined this all. Is this what life in non-corporate polities is like? It's silent, working and taking it in for a while before it reaches out again.

Can you feel it, when I touch your parts? Should I try to be more gentle about it?
relativedimension: (Monitor)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-24 11:20 am (UTC)(link)
The offered show they watch ends up being Golden Girls. One of the Doctor's favourites. They've always had a soft spot for 20th century Earth, after all. She enjoys noting its reactions, but mostly she pays attention to what's going on outside.

{ #statement;
  response("no conventional pain receptors");
  addendum("just don't plug anything in the wrong way");
}


She appreciates the question though. But as long as it's not rough enough to cause damage, it should be just fine. As long as she feels like she's being treated with respect, of course.
serialskiller: (parade rest)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-24 08:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Well, if she doesn't have pain receptors, she probably also doesn't have, like...touch sensors, so clearly she won't notice when it fondly brushes its fingertips along a console or anything. Right? Right.

Shh, it doesn't know how to express itself a lot of the time, so it'll thank her with hard work, getting through as much of the repair and maintenance as possible.
relativedimension: (Default)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-24 08:29 pm (UTC)(link)

Oh, she'll notice. She won't comment, but she definitely notices. She likes being appreciated and admired. And she doesn't take the hard work for granted. It's sign of appreciation and trust that she lets it do it in the first place.

There's a limit to how many repairs can actually be done currently though. Some things are inaccessible, and she'll have to rearrange a bit to grant access from the control room, since she can't give access to any other rooms.

serialskiller: (conversational)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-24 08:54 pm (UTC)(link)
Once it's done with what it can do, it sits on the control room stairs, watching the rest of the episode they're on.

I should probably go soon. But I'll find you again later, if you need more work done or if you want company again. And you know my feed address.
relativedimension: (Default)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-24 10:10 pm (UTC)(link)

The console gives a gentle chime of acknowledgement. She's gotten quite fond of it already, although she's also very done being social. She doesn't usually have anywhere near this much interaction. (And she isn't necessarily very good at communicating emotions herself, especially gratitude.)

{ #statement;   query("capability of consuming organic material"); }

She doesn't ask whether it NEEDS to, merely whether it is capable of it.

serialskiller: (over my shoulder)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-24 10:40 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes, I eat. I didn't, before arriving on the ship--that's something new that's happened here.

The regain system is meant for confusing characters, right?
relativedimension: (Default)

[personal profile] relativedimension 2022-05-24 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)

That's a strange point that she makes note of. She should catalogue the different changes arrivals go through.

She gives it another instruction before it leaves. Just to step on a pedal near the console, that's it. Doing so will make a custard cream biscuit come out of a tiny chute in the console. Just a small symbolic thank you.

serialskiller: (conversational)

[personal profile] serialskiller 2022-05-25 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
It totally takes the biscuit, pinging thanks to her on its way out of the blue box.