TDM #10

[apocalypsehowmods]

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➥ Arrival

(cw: potential for severe disorientation/vertigo, claustrophobia, arachnophobia, body horror)

It happens in the blink of an eye. You may have been asleep. You may not have. You may have stepped through a door or turned a corner. You may have seen a flicker of something at the corner of your vision and turned to look. Or maybe you didn't.

It doesn't matter. What matters is that you find yourself somewhere entirely new and entirely unfamiliar. The arrival point is not always the same. (If you're lucky, it might be a canteen or an open office. If you're not, well... you aren't claustrophobic, are you? Or arachnophobic. These ducts do seem to be a bit cobwebby.) There is no one waiting for you but you don’t seem to be alone, either. Even in a janitor’s closet or the bathroom, you’ll find at least one person who seems to be just as out of place as you are.

If characters have arrived in a location devoid of NPCs, they may want to work together to figure out what is going on... or to avoid their 'kidnappers.' If you’ve arrived in the middle of the entry foyer or the gym, there may well be a few people who startle a bit at your arrival and try to approach (or discreetly leave the room... where are they going?). Will you cooperate or fight? Do you even understand what they're saying? You might need to find a translator, if you’re not immediately willing to follow a stranger.

After characters follow their new hosts (or are forcibly taken in) there will be a limited tour and the chance to settle in at the ADI-provided housing. (Do you enjoy living with strangers? Well. It's a new situation to navigate, anyway.)

➥ The Flowers Came Early

(cw: existential dread, altered perceptions, apocalypse, tsunamis, wildfires, meteor strikes, potential for botulism/food-based illnesses)

Weird things happen in Dogtown, everyone knows it. And the weird things have been getting worse. The Apocalypse Disruption Initiative (ADI) is not above taking advantage of that to test out the waters for its newest arrivals, but they're far more conscientious about it than early days. They're not looking to send anyone to their death, especially not with recent events that have transpired surrounding Dogtown and in Gloucester proper. An employee gives you a GPS device where you need only press a button to alert ADI there is severe danger and someone needs to come help you right away, and you've been left with another person at the trailhead. Maybe they're a new arrival, as well, or a more seasoned 'veteran.' Either way, you're together for the next while and you've been asked to find and record any paranormal activity in the park. You have your phones and any other equipment you might have brought with you. Those who succeed in documenting anything peculiar will receive a $100 reward to be used as they see fit.

This month, flowers are finally starting to bloom throughout the city and into the park. Bright blues, purples, pinks, and deep crimson. There's one set of flowers that seem to have formed suspiciously consistent patterns, though. The golden daffodils only seem to be growing in select spots. They're not quite in rings. More… rectangular? Something like that. In any case, those who observe the daffodils may note they're exceptionally fragrant, the sort of thing to draw one in…

Stepping foot into the middle of the daffodils causes a sudden, but brief, plunge. Congratulations, you've found a cellar, one of the old ones left behind and covered over by time and nature. Investigations will lead to mostly-collapsed root cellars, the sort of thing someone interested in local history might be fascinated by. The occasional tin or jar can be found, as well, which might net a healthy sum for collectors of Colonial Era foodstuffs. Those foolish enough to try to eat what's inside will likely find themselves exceptionally sick. Please Do Not.

Whatever adventures characters get up to in the cellars, there doesn't appear to be anything actively dangerous down there beyond the place collapsing and self-inflicted botulism. Stepping back out, though? There is nothing. Dogtown is a barren wasteland, and in the distance, in the direction of Gloucester, there are only the ruined remains of a city long-since lost, itself, to some horrible catastrophe. Different pairs might see different kinds of catastrophes. Perhaps it looks like an enormous tsunami swept through, pushing the town out before dragging pieces of it back into the sea. Perhaps it looks like there was some sort of wildfire with only the burned out husks of buildings left. Perhaps there are no signs, at all, just a crater where the town used to be, wiped out by something that fell from space. Whatever might be their worst visions of a decaying future, empty of life, this is it. They've emerged and-

And it's normal again. Just Dogtown, just Gloucester. Characters who fell prey to the daffodils will find that any time they get a whiff of the flowers in Dogtown or elsewhere, they will have brief, recurring visions of being in that desolate landscape, of the horrors that await in some future they haven't reached, yet.

➥ Ctrl + Alt + Delete

(cw: potential for mild public humiliation, paranoia, altered perceptions, insects, claustrophobia/choking/suffocating, body horror/tooth horror)

After a certain AI's foray into the world of stealing account passwords, on top of other instances of cyber security lapses by new arrivals, ADI has decided to implement mandatory cyber security classes. It's not enough to prove you can use a modern phone and computer, everyone who arrives will be asked to attend at least one course put on by the Staff Development and Information Technology departments. Or perhaps you've proved your mettle already and are one of the ones actually teaching these courses. The topics covered are wide ranging, but some seminar highlights for this month include:

Cyber Security Awareness - What makes a good password? Why do we have those? What even is two-factor authentication. This course is your basic introduction to cyber security and teaches things like don't give everyone your password on the public network. Don't download anything that hasn't been pre-approved by IT - devices are locked to prevent this, but don't get wily. And if you see something, say something in terms of any oddities in your devices. IT would rather tell you there's nothing wrong than deal with something worse getting through.

Brute Forcing It - An interactive class where participants will create passwords and have a paired participant attempt to brute force hack it. Pairs are allowed to ask each other questions, but nothing will be compelling honesty. Better get sly if you want to hack your compatriot's login. If you manage it, you'll receive a congratulations and gift card to a local coffee shop. If you're the one whose password was successfully hacked… you get nothing apart from a stern lecture about picking a better password. Get to know your fellows and see if you can rise above them on the field of cyber battle.

Spooky Threats - A rundown of potential supernatural threats that have entered into this digital age. Worried someone is spying on you through a camera lens, even when your device is off? It's very possible. There are some Eye-based avatars with that sort of technopathy available to them. Worried you might have a bug in the machine? Have you considered that this is literally the case? The Corruption has a strong foothold, particularly in the social media space. Digital tech also tends to interact in strange ways with the supernatural. Participants will be able to take photos with their phones of a few different artifacts brought up from the lower levels and kept in a display case. They'll be able to see the strange warping and static effects associated with the photos as a first step to identifying supernatural phenomenon.

The artifacts brought up aren't the most dangerous in ADI's catalog, thankfully, but there will be reprimands and getting kicked out of the class for those who can't keep their hands to themselves. The objects include:

• A flute that induces severe migraines and temporary synesthesia when touched;
• A doodlebug pen that makes it feel like there's something crawling up your back for several minutes after touching it;
• A ticket stub for a car parking lot that looks perpetually damp. There is the scent of gasoline and a tightening in your throat the longer it's held;
• A wax apple that makes you want to bite into it, to consume it, to smile as your teeth turn to wax.

➥ Dawning Realizations

(cw: references to violence and death; scopophilia)

April's dawn has come to the seemingly endless nights of March as nightmares fade and the monster howling at the door goes silent. The days are growing longer, but they feel longer still than they are when the night no longer holds so many dangers.

The peace feels uncertain at first, but as the days and nights go on the shadow woman does not make her reappearance. A few at ADI voice the hope that she might actually be dead following the destruction of multiple shades. Others are more doubtful, claiming that they saw her as recently as the night of April 1st and that not all of the shades were caught and killed. The official word from the top is that she's all too likely to still be alive and field agents are on the watch for her to re-emerge in Gloucester or some other, easier target. Investigations around town in search of bolt holes and places she'd been spotted turn up nothing but the occasional drift of black sand…and, in a few too many places to be easily dismissed as coincidence, wax dripped on the ground or intermingled with the sand. Some characters may have suspicions about what this is, others may simply have questions.

Whatever ADI's lingering misgivings, the city of Gloucester is grateful for the reprieve, and more openly grateful for the help of ADI than ever before. Officially, the spring festival thrown in a city park near ADI headquarters is a show of gratitude for ADI's assistance during the blackouts that recently plagued the city and inspired an unprecedented crime wave. Unofficially, ADI quite suddenly has the city council's logistical support as well as its ear, and the festival is a thank you for quite a bit more than providing a few backup generators to local businesses.

Eat! Drink! Celebrate! There's live music as well as jugglers, stage magicians, and basically any entertainers that could be brought in on short notice on the promise of tips–that is to say, an effort was made but this is not exactly Las Vegas. There are homemade carnival games that have clearly made the rounds of a few community festivals and elementary school carnivals: bean bag toss, plinko, mini golf, and more. Try your skill at musical chairs or run an egg relay race with your friends. Get your face painted, jump in the bouncy castle, or volunteer for the dunk tank–no one will judge you (probably).

On the more sedate side of things, there are local crafters selling their wares. There's also food and beer from local businesses, with ADI staff receiving a generous handful of tokens to exchange for each. Or you might just want to take a stroll among the spring flowers further from the hubbub of the festival proper; they're coming in nicely now (including the daffodils). And if the spots on that one flower looked like eyes for a moment, or if you feel like you're being watched in the gardens–that's just nonsense. It's a beautiful sunny day, and you deserve to relax and enjoy yourself.

➥ Mod Notes

• ARRIVAL (Apr 1 - 31): Two people will always arrive in the same general location together. Arrivals occur throughout the early month, not all on the same day or in the same place. Arrivals are not naturally fluent in English/other languages immediately upon arrival. Characters may attempt to evade capture, but they will eventually be snagged before they can leave the building. PC's already in-game are more than welcome to interact with and try to guide new PC's to get them oriented. Please refer to the Arrival page for details regarding the arrival and onboarding process.
  
  
• THE FLOWERS CAME EARLY (Apr 1 - 31): Characters are welcome to find the odd relic from the 1800s tucked away in the cellar. ADI's IT department will be happy to help with listing it on places like eBay or Facebook Marketplace to sell to potential collectors. They'll also offer to just buy it for a few hundred dollars to avoid the hassle and then gift it to a relevant museum for the tax write-off. Players can come up with any catastrophic scenario they would like for this prompt. We would just ask that you pay particular mind to listing content warnings as they arise. Pressing the GPS Device's button while in the 'other' place will result in the device making a crackling error sound. It will work as soon as the vision stops. The recurring visions will last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes and will be all-encompassing. Whatever the character is doing, wherever they are, they will feel like they're in this destroyed world. These recurring visions can carry past the April timeframe, should players want that.
  
  
• CTRL + ALT + DELETE (Apr 1 - 31): All characters will be asked to attend at least one cyber security lesson, whether they're a new arrival or someone old hat. If your character has the skills to actually teach these classes, you may handwave that they are an instructor, rather than a participant. For the Spooky Threats option, anyone who touches the artifacts (and is caught by the instructor) will be verbally rebuked in front of the entire class before being sent out. Characters will receive explicit instructions not to touch the artifacts when they're first brought in, and will be informed they're things that ADI is still trying to figure out how to destroy as they're surprisingly resilient to the usual flamethrower/incineration method.
  
  
• DAWNING REALIZATIONS (Apr 8 - 11): As far as anyone can tell, Katie Dunn is no longer in Gloucester and no immediate threat has arrived to replace her. Characters who killed or injured one or more of her shades have been commended with an internal announcement, a bonus to their pay, and a gift card for frozen yogurt. And yes, the flowers do occasionally have eyes, but it's probably fine. If examined in detail, the wax is high-quality and scented to smell just a little bit like a campfire.
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Comments

QUESTIONS

[apocalypsehowmods]

[lavorreable]

Hi mods! What happens if someone were to, say, pick one of the flowers with the eyeballs and wear it in their hair or something?

Re: QUESTIONS

[ployboy]

Heyo, we all know Jimothy is a snoop. Does that perpetually damp ticket come from any place of interest or have any other identifying info?

[musicdied]

Would characters who delved into multiple daffodil cellars see the same thing each time, or would there be variation in the post-apocalyptic visions?

[whisperedone]

Darling mods, if characters take pictures of the hellscapes they come out in from the cellar, will those pictures reflect said hellscapes upon everything returning to normal?

George Milton | Of Mice and Men (Book)

[bindlestifflost]

Arrival ~ CW: Spiders

George has awakened in plenty of strange places, but finding himself face down in the dark in some kind of cold metal tube? This is a new one. His bindle is crushed in against his side to the point he doesn't have much wiggle room. When he raises his head, he bangs it hard enough to clang. "Ow! Damn it." He can't even get his arm up enough to rub it. There's a little light from somewhere up ahead, a grate by the looks of it. Some creative elbow wiggling and being a wiry little bastard helps.

He's spitting cobwebs as he goes and squinting against the small black blobs embedded in them that scurry out of sight, probably up in his hat and down his collar. Can't be helped right now. As soon as he reaches the grate, it gives way under his weight. His, "Aww, shi—" is cut off by a hard landing on the not very soft bindle in the middle of a cafeteria floor.

Rolling to his side, he coughs violently and wheezes from the air knocked clean out. His hat rolls several feet to the side before coming to a stop. A few dark brown spiders scurry to take shelter under anything shadowed. George squints in the sudden bright light and blinks back dark spots, more than a little stunned, his heavy denim work jacket askew and body half shrimp curled.

He'll be OK in a few. Probably. Maybe. Damn, that hurt.

The Flowers Came Early ~ CW Fiery Hellscape Apocalypse

George squints suspiciously at the device that's supposedly one button press away from help and shoves it into his jacket pocket. Glancing at his partner for this odd mission, he jerks a chin gesture toward a nearby planting of daffodils. "Used t' see 'em like that all the time around old rotted away homesteads," he says, his voice on the deep side and coarse.

"Might not be a bad idea to poke around. When I was little, we'd dig and find all kinds 'a stuff. Old bottles an' forks, pieces 'a dishes. Even found an old musket ball once." He heads off in that direction. Once he's closer, he nods. "Yeah, look. You can tell it's the outline 'a some old house. Ground's even a little—" Not two steps over the line of flowers, the ground gives way under him. Again?!

His yell is short-lived. It's not a long drop, and his landing isn't the disaster it was a couple of days ago. He tucks and rolls before coming up on hands and knees. "I'm all right! Y' might wanna come down here. Looks like an old cellar. Jes' watch your step."

CTRL + ALT + DELETE

"Confound this thing," George mutters under his breath. His scowl is mutinous, and he's shaking the little smartphone in his hand. "I don't see how you're supposed t' type anything on this damned thing when the keys are so small."

Don't even get him started on the fact that you can't see the password when you're typing the password. How idiotic is that? He feels like he has already worn his welcome out questioning the instructor. The last couple of questions earned increasingly hostile glares.

A little guilt prickles him as he considers maybe this is how Lennie felt every day of his life, the poor bastard. Trying his hardest when nothing made a lick of sense. He sighs and rubs his free hand down his mouth. OK. Time to try again... *********

INVALID PASSWORD

"God damn it!"

Dawning Realizations

This is the most at home he has felt since he found himself in this weird place. The future. He still hasn't wrapped his head around it and isn't sure he's not raving in some cuckoo bin back near Soledad. The fair reminds him of his childhood before the truly bad times hit. He's not much in a party mood while trying to make the best of it.

He's not a bad hand at the ring toss, ace at knocking down pins, and laughing along with the rest of the small crowd at the dunking booth when someone makes a score. He can be spotted pretty much anywhere around the displays, sometimes picking at a bag of popcorn, sometimes playing games. His hat is pushed back to expose more of his face, and when he grins he at least looks approachable.

Or Wildcard me!

CTRL+ALT+DELETE

[failedpromise]

(OOC: I am 100% okay with George being a jerk/having a negative reaction to Cortana's... everything.)

Don't worry, the main person who's been roped into instructing these classes is Cortana. Despite her clear lack of Humanity and scandalous fashion choices, she's an okay instructor, capable of being patient when she needs to be. Given that she works with Humans despite her perception of time being incomprehensibly fast from any normal organic perspective, it's kind of a requirement.

This one clearly needs a little extra instruction, she thinks, as she watches George become increasingly frustrated with his phone.

So she pulls up a chair to sit next to him. "Need a little help?"

Flowers came early

[whisperedone]

He doesn’t say much in regards to the things he’s supposed to be noticing beyond a soft ‘Ah, I see’ offered for the part about digging around. He did not, in fact, see at all, but his new partner -George, he’d been told- seemed confident in what he was saying. It was enough for Garner to believe him.

While he can’t see the flowers or the hole George falls into, he can hear when it happens. Garner rushes to the side, his glaive dug into the ground for support as he remembers the sand pit he’d fallen into just a couple months ago. He’s pausing to hear for the rush of dirt and the hole filling when George calls out.

He sighs in relief but shifts to swing his legs over the edge. A moment of investigation finds a solid patch of ground to bridge his glaive over and uses it like a handle to lower himself down. He hesitates a moment, but leaves the polearm above them, they’ll need a way out, after all.

“A cellar? That the ground has reclaimed? How interesting.” His voice is soft and low with a gentle (British sounding) accent, currently touched with earnest curiosity.

He reaches out and takes the couple small steps needed to find a wall as he feels for their surroundings. Dust, dirt, stale as the air in here. Metal?

He picks up the metal object and feels along it for its shape. Was it a can? “How does the cellar survive but the house does not?”

Dawning Realizations

[thedoctorsmate]

"Bloody hell, you got an arm on you!" The praise comes from Donna as she's making a go at the pins next to him. She's managed to knock down most of the bottles, but the last one is eluding her. "Any hot tips for a girl who just wants a plush dog?"

If the man glances over, she'll smile at him. Womanly wiles are a go! Hopefully. That dog hanging in the back is very cute.

OMFG THIS IS ONE OF MY ALL TIME FAVOURITE MOVIES SHUT UP

[abrightboy]

Ctrl + Alt + Delete

Malcolm looks over, bored as he finished his own assignment on the first try. He hoped he'd be in the same class as Gil, in case his mentor needed help, but... apparently someone else needs help.

"Do you need a hand?" he asks politely.

Arrival

[bloodalwaystells]

Apparently, people falling out of the ceiling is something that Jaeger is used to, because the big man doesn't even spill the coffee in his hand when George comes tumbling out of the air vent. He does wince in sympathy at the landing, though, and changes his direction to a path to assist.

The spiders get far less sympathy, but he doesn't pay them much mind, focused on the man with intent, blue-gray eyes behind a pair of simple thick-rimmed glasses. Dark blue turtleneck and gray suit jacket, slacks, sensible shoes, short black hair with a silvery sheen that might be signs of age but...might not. If not for his size, he wouldn't be intimidating at all. Very scholarly, rather.

"Are you alright?" His voice is a quiet rasp, a conversational tone torn by some kind of damage. He doesn't offer a hand quite yet.

flowers

[demonicmiracle]

For all that he isn't especially fond of these little day trips, so far he hasn't actually gotten injured on one, so they're worth the slight risk. He's not sure what to make of his current partner, the poor man clearly isn't from the twenty first century, though Crowley can't place him exactly.

He could just ask, except that sounds like a lot of effort.

What he was about to do is make a comment about old houses until there's crack, a shout, and George disappears. Crowley takes a second to be grateful that it isn't him going underground this time, not when that nonsense with the sand was so unpleasant. He's also relieved that George apparently isn't dead, or hurt; that would've been a whole other mess to deal with.

"That was a hell of a tumble, you sure you're right?" Does he care? Debatable, but it's one of those things that people should ask, so he does, even as he comes to investigate the cellar. He's going to hope there isn't anything horrible in there, because it'd probably look bad if he wandered back to headquarters alone.

oh one of my fave book characters of all time is here ( flowers came early )

[morethings]

Strictly speaking, Lt. Columbo preferred working alone. Bit of a cliche, sure, but it wasn't for all those broody reasons they put in detective pictures. Partners came with their own egos, theories, and baggage. It was the suspect's baggage Columbo cared about. More voices in his ear meant more chances to miss something.

And if he really needed a second opinion, that's what his wife was for.

Still, George wasn't bad as far as company was concerned. From what little Columbo had been able to pick up about the guy, he was of his father's generation. Even reminded him a little of the man -- talkative and taciturn all at once.

"Oh yeah? Digging holes wasn't really something we did much where I'm from. A buddy of mine once found a bra in Central Park, but--" Lt. Columbo's eyes bugged at the fall, stumbling over himself as he rushed to the edge. It was with visible relief that he saw George was alright. Hand pushed to the side of his face, Columbo regards the hole with fascination and unease.

"Come down there? You hit your head or something? I should be trying to get you out." Shouldn't he? Then again, his curiosity was already starting to gnaw away at any apprehension. He crouches down lower, trying to get a better look. "Whaddya see?"

Nick Valentine | Fallout

[outofthepast]

ARRIVAL

It happens in a blink. That's how they say the Institute gets you, too. So the obvious and immediate conclusion for Nick is that the Commonwealth's Big Bad Boogeyman has finally decided to bring him "home."

He's no fool. They hold all the cards here. The switch, or the pulse, or the recall code that's gonna shut him down and leave him a pile of junk, their long-discarded prototype. But he's not the type to lie down and give up when the (computer) chips are down. The Institute has a hell of a lot of pain and suffering to answer for. And before the Institute takes him out, he's gonna make them feel as much as he can.

Pistol in hand, a determined glare on his face, the synth stalks through the hallways. Funny, he expected it'd look a little nicer down here. The dingy Pre-War office look is a little unimpressive for the folks who invented the teleporter and the existential nightmare of sapient artificial consciousness.

His motion sensors pick it up first, someone moving up ahead. There's a bump, someone brushing against furniture. He keeps his pistol down but he's ready to raise it if a scientist or courser comes around the corner.

"Who's there?" he calls. "Put your hands up and step where I can see you."


FLOWERS

"Nice to see a mathematician dare to follow his landscaping dreams."

Nick draws the cigarette from his mouth, careful to blow the smoke away from his partner on this odd little mission. He's half staring at the odd rectangular pattern of the daffodils, and half at the human fingers crimping his cigarette. (He had his first several of many panic episodes about the "form" back in his room, enough to get a grip for the sake of the assignment. But it's little moments like this where it really freaks him out...)

He's so busy staring he misses the moment his partner takes one step too far forward, and the ground caves in and takes them with it.

A collapsed cellar. Damn it, he ought to have noticed the signs-- they're a common enough occurrence back home.

"Hey, you okay?" he calls. "Don't move if anything hurts. I'll come help you."


CTL + ALT + DEL

(note: Due to very literal machine logic, Nick is canonically an incredible hacker.)

Honestly, it's nice of them to give a primer in this newfangled... oldfangled tech (and he can just hear his secretary laughing at him for that phrasing.) It's all subtly different from the literal artifacts he's used to, but apart from a couple differences, it generally makes sense.

Maybe a little too much sense. And maybe Nick's starting to get a little smug after his fourth straight win in the password-guessing game (though he's giving the gift cards back to his opponents on the sly, since it's not like they do him any good.)

"I'd better be honest," he says to his fifth opponent, "I have an unfair advantage here. Maybe we oughta skip it?"

But hey... maybe his opponent's just that competitive.


DAWNING REALIZATIONS

As much as he dreaded coming out here today, it's actually pretty nice... in a real melancholy way. It's nice to see pristine landscapes. Blooming flowers and leafing trees, green grass, clear skies, and natural beauty. It's nice to see families, big ones, lots of people and lots of kids enjoying a carefree afternoon. No fear, no violence, none the dust and rust and blood and grim misery that colors even the most gentle moments in the wasteland.

It's nice to stand here off to the side. Nobody staring, no overheard snatches of muffled conversation about him. Nobody's looking at him at all. Because for all they can see, he's not a synth. Not a mechanical man to gawk at and fear. Just an ordinary human man in a nice suit, standing off to the side and watching the world go by.

It's a lie, if a nice one. But Nick can't bring himself to dislike it. He remembers when it was real, even though it never really was. And that brings with it all the usual swells of pain and nostalgia and tangled feelings. He reaches for a cigarette and lights up, stepping back and accidentally bumping into someone standing nearby.

"Pardon me," he says, and steps away. "Wasn't watching where I was going." Despite his better efforts, the quiet melancholy shows up in his voice and on a face much more expressive than he's used to.

(ooc: Prose or brackets are fine by me, so please tag at your leisure. There's plenty of info about Nick in his journal, but feel free to ask if you need something pertinent to tagging.

Out in public/away from ADI property (prompts 2 and 4), Nick's mechanical nature is covered by a human form.)

CTRL+ALT+DEL

[failedpromise]

"Actually, I was thinking you might want to play a few rounds with the teacher?" Cortana stepped in to interrupt. She'd been intrigued since she saw this other artificial intelligence enter the classroom, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get to know him a little better.

"Maybe show the rest of them how it's done?" She sat on the edge of the desk and gave him a smirk. Education and fun! It had been a while since she got to outhack another AI.

Jean Tannen - The Gentleman Bastards Series

[therichremember]

1. Arrival
Jean is no stranger to strangeness, not unfamiliar with unfamiliarity, but a modern office building is entirely outside his understanding. A tall, broad-shouldered man with spectacles and dressed not entirely unlike he got lost on the way to the Renaissance Faire, he spends his first few minutes after stepping out of a restroom looking for his partner in crime.

"Locke? Locke!" His voice is a harsh, hissed whisper as he searches. But as he begins to come to the conclusion he's on his own, his blood runs cold; he's never been the mastermind of any scheme on his own. Figuring out how to navigate the situation, what lies to tell about himself...that's going to be rather tricky.

And even more unfortunately for him, his time has run out: here comes a stranger, old or new to ADI themself.

2. The Flowers Came Early
While he's definitely concerned about Dogtown's reported oddities, Jean knows he's useful as a strongman, backing up someone who's more clever and less buff. So he asks to be paired with someone who might need a proper bodyguard on this expedition. He's made some allowances to modern fashion, wearing a button-down shirt and jeans under the green velvet coat he'd arrived in, his wire spectacles still perched on his nose. The coat, after all, was constructed with leather loops on the inside that hold his weapons of choice.

As he meets his partner at the trailhead, there's a discerning up-and-down look as he sizes them up, before he offers a smile. "Are you prepared for whatever's to come?"

3. Dawning Realizations
a. Working the Crowd
A carnival is nothing if not temptation to a trained thief and conman, and those in the crowd may find themselves surprised to be separated from wallets, jewelry and other valuables by a deft-handed pickpocket. Really, who would suspect that a brick shithouse of a man has the dainty fingers of a lacemaking granny and the larcenous heart of a sworn initiate of the god of thieves?

He's not perfect, though, and the particularly sharp-eyed may catch on to exactly what he's doing.

b. Games Without Frontiers
When he's not working the crowd, he shows interest in the games at the festival. The games that draw him most are anything that involves thrown accuracy. Bean bag toss? Darts? He's clearly very good at judging weight, distance and aerodynamics, and amasses a small collection of prize tchotchkes.

c. Carnival Wildcard
I'm up for other shenaniganery, too--want to introduce the gentleman from a fantasy novel to things like deep-fried twinkies and modern innovations in beer? Convince him to get his face painted? Walk through the craft booths with him while he marvels over merchandise? Please, be my guest!

3A CHEESE IT, IT'S A COP

[outofthepast]

(ooc: He's in human mode out here.)

Well, well, well. Somebody thinks he's slick. And he is, really, weighing that physical size of his against unexpectedly tricky fingers. Back home, most fellas with that kind of brawn just shove people over and rob them, or tip them upside down and shake out their pockets.

And back home, Nick at least has the synth thing to lean on, when it comes to confronting miscreants. Here, he's just a slender, middle-aged man in an unusually sharp manner of dress. Time to find out how that works out for him.

"Hey, pal." Nick steps up to the pickpocket in between incidents, plucking the cigarette from between his lips. "How 'bout you keep those hands to yourself?"

Owen Harper | Torchwood

[halfdecay]

Arrival — ;

[There he was, standing in the middle of an unknown office building in god-knows-where. A tinge of panic glosses over Owen’s eyes as he steadily brings his breathing back in order. Owen is used to strange. Strange locals. Strange occurrences. Torchwood prepares you for this sort of thing. To think beyond what is on this odd little rock called Earth.

Despite the phenomenon being par for the course in Owen’s tenure, it was still equally fucking jarring as all hell.

And Owen is very well aware that he sticks out like a sore thumb with the way his eyes are looking all around the open office space. He damn well reckons that the bloke on the computer can catch the sweat falling down his brow.

So what do you do when you are this deep into being suddenly transported into a new and strange location? Well, you pretend like you own the place. He simply wipes the sweat under his brow and waltzes into one of the private office rooms.

The office itself doesn’t exactly stand out. It is about as standard as one might imagine a twat with a cushy job would have. Owen slinks in further inside the office. Fingertips trace along the grain of the perfectly polished wood desk. He notices everything is organized and pristine. Not a single document is out of place. His eyes then divert to the top of the desk where he spots a simple, white powdered doughnut sitting on top of a napkin. By the time Owen had circled around the desk, he was already making himself comfortable by taking a seat on the plush leather chair.

He rests his elbows on top of the desk and picks up the doughnut by the napkin. The smell and look of the thing is lovely enough to eat.

Whatever. Better blend in with the rest of the crowd.

Owen sets the doughnut back and leans further back in the chair and kicks his feet up on top of the desk. Now with a manila folder at hand milling about whatever mundane document he’s picked up.]

CTL + ATL + DEL — ; (Brute Force)

[Oh, goody. Classroom group work. There is something about mandatory office workshops that makes Owen want to sigh into oblivion. Luckily, it is a useful workshop, and he is savvy around a computer. He’s no Tosh, but he knows a thing or two about being cheeky to get what he needs.

Owen sits there by the computer and partner across from him. He stares at them for a beat before plucking the tail-end of his ballpoint out of his mouth and asks:]

Right then — You’re stuck on an island with no means of communication, but you’ve three valuable items in your pocket. What are they?

Wildcard — ;

[Feel free to throw a whole new starter here! I'm down to try out any ideas you have in mind. Also willing to adapt to prose-style if you're comfortable with that format. Shoot me a PM here or on plurk @ robutting.]

CTL + ATL + DEL — ; (Brute Force)

[bossyboiler]

[ It could be worse and it can always be worse. They could have been forced into doing ice breakers in order to get to know passwords. Wouldn't Owen like to share his most favorite holiday spot or his first pet's name. Though that would be a fairly decent way to figure out security questions.

Kate returns his stare. ]

A lighter, bobby pins, and a Swiss army knife. You?

[ It'll be her turn to try and guess his password soon. There's no reason in the world why she can't be asking questions already. As it stands, Kate feels very secure in her password's security strength. ]

Dr. Franken Stein | Soul Eater (anime)

[circumsutus]

Arrival
[This janitor's closet is too crowded. It would be a tight fight with one, but with two people, it's just ridiculous. Especially when one of the people is as tall as Stein, towering in the small space, his lab coat billowing around him.

At least the door pops open easily enough, letting them stumble out into the hallway. Stein takes a split second to assess, and then grins down at the stranger he was trapped with, his voice light but his eyes hidden behind the way the light catches off his glasses.]

Well, that's a new one! Any idea what's going on?

ctrl+alt+del - Brute Forcing It
You look like a "password1" kind of person. [Stein says, considering the stranger in front of him. For his part, Stein looks more "mad scientist" than "tech guy", from the patchwork of his clothes and lab coat, to the scars across his skin, to the... giant metal bolt just stuck straight through his head.]

wildcard
[[ooc: hit me up at hydok if there's something in particular you're hoping for!]]

ctrl+alt+del - Brute Forcing It

[bossyboiler]

You're more than welcome to try it.

[ Kate is not impressed. Her password is far more complex than password1 thank you very much. It's the best password. The wordiest. ]

What's yours, boltbrain500?

[ The bolt through his head is very disturbing. That has to be a clue, she thinks. ]

Jester Lavorre | Critical Role | cw body modification

[lavorreable]

➥ Ctrl + Alt + Delete - Brute Forcing It
"Is your password... fluffernutter?" Jester asks her partner aloud as she types the word into the computer. A moment later the page has refreshed into the same login box with a little red x proclaiming she's gotten it wrong. "Booooo. Okay, what abooooout... katzenprince?"

Again, no luck. She pushes out her cheeks for a moment, and then theatrically bonks herself on the forehead with the heel of one palm. "Duh, of course that wouldn't work. Its your password. What's your favorite food?"

She regards her partner with her hands on her cheeks, elbows resting on the computer desk, and tail swaying behind her like a cat with crime on its mind.


➥ Ctrl + Alt + Delete - Spooky Threats (aftermath)
"All I did was touch it! You don't bring up magical items just to look at or else how do you know they're magical!? How was I supposed to know you didn't have to attune to it?!"

Its after class. Not long after, but Jester's unceremonious ejection from said class had been near the end of the portion where the instructor had been having everyone take pictures with their phones. She'd just wanted to see what would happen to her hand in the camera if she put it in frame with the object, and then one thing lead to another...

She puts on a prodigious pout and kicks at rock on the path from the building. "They didn't have to make me wait outside. Especially after I was so good at the password part."


➥ Dawning Realizations
Now a festival Jester can get behind. All of these spooky creepy goings on put a definite pall on her arrival, plus not being able to contact the Traveler, anyone still at home, or even really use her magic very well at all has her much more stressed out than she lets on. But a big carnival with games and prizes and face painting is a very welcome and very normal distraction.

Clad in a new pink frilly dress that she purchased with her first earned hundred dollars from ADI, Jester runs rampant around the fair. She's still in her human disguise of course, with black roots showing to her 'dyed' blue hair and no horns or tail to speak of, but she's painted her own face to have intricate butterfly wings around her eyes and matching lipstick. Of course the whole thing catches the light with a great deal of glitter too, matching the sparkle of the diamond dust tattoo of hands clasped around her shoulders.

When she's not trying desperately to win the large fat plush unicorn at the game booths, she's parked herself on a bench with her own palette of paints and brushes... and a long thick stick with a needle attached to the end. As people walk by, she'll smile broadly. "Hi, I'm Jester! Did you want to get your face painted? Or a tattoo! I'm pretty good at those too."


➥ Wildcard
( ooc: Want a prompt you don't see here? I'd be happy to arrange something! Contact me via reikofanel or on discord at heinrippy#6849 )

[therichremember]

Jean notices Jester trying to win that unicorn at a throw-the-dart-at-the-balloons sort of game and steps up beside her with a warm smile. "May I help you with that? I have decent aim and have spent many nights at a tavern throwing darts."

mel | original

[mellz]

i. arrival

Anyone wandering the ADI offices, new or old, may find that, suddenly, there's a pair of legs dangling from the ceiling, as one of the tiles comes clattering down to the floor. Mel kicks out her feet awkwardly, scrambling to find purchase, whether it's on a desk, or a chair, or, like... someone's shoulders...

"Hey-- Hello? I could use a spotter." With her upper half still in the ceiling, it's kind of hard to get a good look down. Not without craning her neck and maybe losing her precarious grip on the ceiling.

She's, uh. Maybe a tiny bit afraid of heights? So as long as she doesn't look down, she can keep cool in blissful ignorance. (Or, you know, imagine that the drop's way bigger than it actually is...)

ii. flowers came early

"Hey, partner."

Gravely, Mel raises her fist for a bump. This is serious business.

"Ready to risk life and limb and our immortal souls for a hundred bucks?"

She's content to walk in silence for a bit, seemingly lackadaisical, though an observant partner might notice that she's taking in their surroundings with a sharp, critical eye. Mel might not be as laid back about all this as she seems.

After a bit of wandering, she shoots her partner a sidelong glance.

"So... If we run into any ghosts... You're ready to perform an exorcism, right?" She hums thoughtfully and looks around them again. "I'll be the old priest."

She seems serious. Or maybe it's just the deadpan tone of her voice.

iii. dawning realizations

You can find Mel manning a face painting booth. Maybe she signed up for it ahead of time, or maybe she talked her way into taking over for the bored teenager who was looking for an excuse to skip out on the gig. Whatever the reason, you can come get your face painted by her. She may take requests for butterflies, rainbows, and woodland critters... or she'll have a little bit of fun and go wild.

iv. wildcard

[ quick summary: teen witch from a modern (sub)urban fantasy world, still working out her particular skillset, so magic's not really her strong suit.

fling anything at me, or hit me at weeyotch / weeyotch#8200 if you want to plan something! ]

ii; a witchy oc for a witchy oc; also this is kayla lmfao

[notaharpy]

Harper still doesn't know what to make of, well, any of this. Fear Gods, because why the fuck not? Creepy investigations assigned off to them from a questionable quasi-academic-governmental agency? Because, again, why the fuck not?

She glances at the girl next to her and in a show of solidarity, bumps her fist with her own. "I feel like the price of souls have really plummeted in recent years."

She considers her for a moment and can't help noticing there's something almost serious about her question. It might have come off like a joke to anyone else, but... well. Harper knows a thing or two about the supernatural. "Actually, yeah. I've done it before." Harper sounds nothing less than serious, herself. But then, because she can't skip the opportunity she adds, "If you're the priest, does that make me Linda Blair?"

Adrian "Ade" Bennett | The Wess'har Wars

[landing_lights]

i. arrival

[ There is, very suddenly, a soldier in the middle of the foyer.

At least, he looks like a soldier. Adrian Bennet, former sergeant of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines, stands in arctic-camo fatigues, staring around the room in first bewilderment and then, increasingly, horror.

It has been months since he stranded himself on Bezer’ej. Months since he’s been on Earth, months since he’s been surrounded by this many unfamiliar humans, and months since he’s wanted to ever see his home planet again. How he got here, he doesn’t know, but the only word blaring on repeat through his head is captured, captured, captured.

He backs away quickly from anyone who approaches him and for all that his face is a mask of panic, his voice is still a low, furious growl. ]

Get the fuck away from me.

ii. brute forcing it

[ By the time they’re shuffling people off to the mandatory cyber security classes, Ade has a somewhat better idea of what’s going on. Unfortunately, that knowledge has done little for his mental state. Ever since being told that this “ADI” thinks he has something to do with an impending apocalypse, it’s all he can think about—mostly because he knows they’re probably right. Apocalypse by c’nataat, apocalypse by pissed off Ebqas Vorhi… Whichever way it goes, it will be on him. The crowning pinnacle of his failure to protect the people he loves, with a body count in the billions.

He stares dismally at the person across from him, wishing not for the first time that day that he could simply disappear. Naturally, no reliable passwords occur to him. ]

Do we really have to do this?

iii. dawning realizations

[ When the festival rolls around, Ade has been with the ADI for a few days and, if he’s still not feeling great about the situation, he has at least managed a more philosophical outlook. The way he’s thinking about it, nobody’s blown him to bits yet and this is an organization built around preventing apocalypses—which means that people with prior experience and expertise think he’s more useful alive than dead. There must be at least a decent chance that he can make good on that faith.

He’s still rather subdued as he walks around the fair, wearing ordinary street clothes and mostly observing the festivities rather than taking part himself. Still, as he drifts towards the vendors’ stalls, something finally manages to catch his attention. He stands there, both transfixed and conflicted as he takes in the wares of a stall selling freshly-made burgers and fries. He hasn’t had a taste of meat since he stranded himself on Bezer’ej. He chews his lip, caught between the mouth-watering aroma and the mental image of Aras’s dismay if he were to learn that his house-brother has taken up carrion-eating again.

Ade’s brow furrows. ]

I really, really shouldn’t.

iii

[thedoctorsmate]

Oh, diets are just the worst.

[Donna has been looking at the menu, herself, contemplating the varieties of burgers for lunch. She quirks a smile at the mournful-looking man.]

But it's a fair! One day going off won't ruin everything. It'll be our secret, eh? Promise I won't tell if you don't.

Molly Carpenter | The Dresden Files

[faerielights]

Arrival

One moment, the office is empty. The next, there's a woman standing in the center of it, back to the door, just inches shy of materializing on the desk. She's tall and a little too lean, and - most strikingly - clad only in long white hair and bright tattoos, silver rings and patches of rapidly-melting frost.

Well, maybe that's the most striking thing. It could also be the sword, long and thin and ice-white, that she holds in a guard position.

She surveys the desk, noting the locked computer and the half-empty mug of coffee abandoned by the occupant, then turns in a slow circle to take in the rest of the sparse decor. Finally, she lets out a low whistle.

"Someone has a death wish."

The Flowers Came Early

Outside the confines of ADI, Molly looks a lot more approachable. It helps that in the days since her arrival, she's found clothes not conjured from frost and madness, and that she's left the sword behind. It helps, too, that the illusion in play has softened the predatory edge of her features, and darkened her hair to a rich honey gold, turning back the clock to someone who can pass for human up close, and not just at a distance.

At the moment, she's standing with her arms crossed, frowning at a rectangular border of flowers. She's been doing this for about ten seconds now, and finally looks towards her partner, brow knit in something that seems caught between frustration and concern.

"Got a quarter?" she asks, and tips her head towards the flower border as though in explanation.

Dawning Realizations

Molly has a cone of bright blue cotton candy and a bit of money in her pocket, and has found the craft booths. Most of the wares available don't hold her attention for more than a minute or two, trending towards things that aren't her style, or would serve as a tacit admission that she's going to be here for more than a couple of weeks and thus has a need to decorate.

One booth, however, has a fascinating array of hats. She's inspecting one, a sapphire blue monstrosity with a wide brim, festooned with ribbons in blue and white and green, all held in place with a pin in the shape of a death's head moth. She turns to the nearest person, lifting the hat to perch it just above her head, and flashes a wide grin.

"What do you think? Can I pull it off?"

the flowers came early

[icanfixyou]

Ron can't say she blames the woman for being suspicious. Fairy circles aren't too strange, but the shape of this thing is definitely not natural. She's pretty sure even a hidden body would leave a less managed shape in the grass.

"Yeah, sure."

She pulls a coin out of her pocket, and flicks it up to land in the middle of the flowers. And... nothing. No death barrier, but that doesn't really mean there's nothing fishy going on.

"Huh." A pause. "How about rock-paper-scissors for who touches it?"

Ron Howard | OC

[icanfixyou]

i. Arrival

One moment, Ron is marching through the woods. Fresh after setting up her camper, she gathers some basic supplies in a backpack and takes Ollie out for a perimeter search. The woods have been strangely silent for half an hour, so she's keeping the dog close to her heel.

There's a snap in the trees behind her, and Ron shoots a hand out to grab Ollie's collar-

And then they aren't in the middle of the woods. They're in an open plan office, literally the furthest from the woods that they could possibly be. Ollie lets out a confused little whine, and after taking a moment to process the change she lets him go to sniff around. Ron is immediately on high alert, and when she hears someone approach her she whips around to point a revolver at their face.

"Stand back!"


ii. Ctrl + Alt + Delete

Well... okay. Ron has gotten her bearings in one way or another, but adjusting to the year 2020 is still a little bit of a mindfuck. Back home, Ron hadn't bothered with learning about the internet - living out of a camper van, she didn't have a phone line or electricity, much less a computer to mess with. And now the computers fit in your pocket, don't need any wires, and don't even need any buttons pressed.

Which, of course, means that the cyber security lectures are flying completely over her head. She's sitting in the back of one with Ollie the ridgeback curled up by her side, sprawled out in her chair and chewing on a pencil eraser, and absorbing absolutely nothing. Eventually she glances over and whoever's next to her and leans in to whisper.

"Does any of this make sense to you?"


iii. Dawning Realizations

There is exactly one thing in all these festivities that Ron cares about: beer. Food is great and she's happy to watch other people play games, but there's something nice about just wandering around with a cold one in her hand.

Ollie is running beside her, off-leash and allowed to wander around through the festival grounds. This means that every so often, an unsuspecting person might discover a very large dog pressing his nose into their rear or even jumping up to lick their face. Or maybe he's just noticed they have something that smells good, and he's showing off his best sit. Whatever mayhem he's causing, Ron will stroll along behind him and only call him back if he's being a serious nuisance - she's not actually looking for a conversation, but she won't mind if someone starts one.

[landing_lights]

Whoa, easy.

[ Ade has his hands up, staring at the revolver with more mild dismay than true fear. Dressed in unmarked arctic-camo fatigues, he, too, looks rather out of place in an office building. His eyes move from the gun to the woman holding it, a flash of sympathy in his expression.

He hasn't been here long, maybe 15 minutes by his own estimation, and had taken to exploring as soon as he realized that no one would actually stop him from doing so. He'd found himself in the offices when he heard what sounded like the whine of a dog and followed it—and now here he is, held at gunpoint. ]

Easy, [ he says again.] I'm not the one who brought you here. Just another poor sod along for the ride.

Lt. Columbo | Columbo

[morethings]

i. arrival

The door to his old Peugeot opens the same way it always did; sticking and sagging against the rusted hinges that struggled to bear its weight. The noise barely registers for the lieutenant, going so far as to lean on the door as he takes one last look at the house behind him. It was a grand old place, full of history. The (late) Mrs. Danvers had lived there all her life -- that's what her son-in-law said, anyway.

He'd had a lot to say, hadn't he?

With that final thought lingering, Lt. Columbo swings into the drivers seat and--

He blinks. Gone was the grungy windshield and LA sun that stubbornly shined through it. Shining marble tile, walls with the tastefully uninspired mark of corporate office space -- it was a waiting room. The lieutenant had been in plenty of them. Just, well, usually he remembered walking in.

A receptionist seated in front of some sort of terminal catches his eye first. She was on the younger side, business-like, confirming an appointment over the phone. Columbo stands, surprised by a vague sense of dizziness as he shuffles his way to the counter.

The maid at the Danvers place had given him tea, was that what this was? Something in it? She and the son-in-law, could they be working together--

He shakes off the mental tangent physically, fingers dancing restlessly over the worn hem of his raincoat. Baby steps, mac. Find out where ya are first.

"Ah--excuse me, Miss." He approaches the receptionist desk, hand raised in silent question. She fixes him with an immediate glare, nodding towards the phone against her ear. Lt. Columbo returns it with a bashful smile, shoulders hunching apologetically. "I can see you're very busy and I hate to bother ya, but I was hoping you could--"

Another glare, this time accompanied by a finger pointing accusingly from the cloud of smoke belching from his cigar towards a small no smoking plaque on her desk. After a few hasty sorry, excuse me's and an even hastier search for an ashtray, Columbo stubs the cigar against the wrinkled lining of his raincoat. It's seen worse.

"Gee, I'm sorry ma'am, I didn't see the sign. Y'see, I'm a bit scrambled at the moment and I was hoping--"

There goes the finger again, this time shoved into her unoccupied ear. To the gal's credit, she doesn't lose concentration on the call for even a second. People that good at admin work were usually pretty fastidious as a rule. In the lieutenant's experience, him and fastidious didn't get along great.

He scans the room again, hoping for a face he'd have a better shot with. Most of them looked as busy as the receptionist, determinedly walking from point A to point B with all the mundane efficiency of your basic office. All save one person.

Be it their appearance, expression, agitation, or apparent lack of anywhere to go... One person doesn't fit into the surroundings at all. Lieutenant Columbo makes a b-line for the oddball, head ducked graciously in pre-apology.

"Excuse me, [insert sir/ma'am here*]..." He extends a hand towards the stranger, head canted at slight angle. "This might sound a little funny, but I was just wonderin'..."

A wide grin spreads across the lieutenant's face, a practiced embarrassment shining through as he finally asks the question he's been dying to ask since he got here.

"You wouldn't happen to know where we are, wouldja?"

( *the gender binary ain't real, but this fact was not widely known in the time period Columbo's from. if your character flouts 1970s gender norms, please feel COMPLETELY free to have him get it wrong. )

ii. dawning realizations

Who didn't love a carnival? Sure, you'd never mistake it for anything other than a government effort, but he couldn't remember the last time the LAPD shelled out for more than a few paper hats and some sheet cake from Vickman's.

But there were more important things on his mind than civil expenditure. When he first showed up in that waiting room, he'd had four cigars stuffed in the various pockets of his raincoat. Four and a half if you counted the half smoked one he arrived with. Now, he could stretch four (and a half cigars) around six hours. Maybe eight, on a particularly relaxing day.

But hour eight was long gone. He was on day eight. That was 192 hours. A life can seem awfully long when measured in cigars. Longer when the place you've been unceremoniously recruited to doesn't even have a damn cigarette machine in the lobby.

Satisfying his oral fixation with a hot dog, Lt. Columbo stalks the corridors of the open air market in shambling pursuit of his goal. So single-minded is he that he doesn't seem to notice his surroundings, or anyone who could be standing in his path. This becomes distinctly apparent when all five-feet-six-inches of him barrels into an idle browser in front of one of the shops.

Knocked temporarily off balance, a taut thread in the lieutenant snaps like an old piano wire. Oh yeah, this felt like a milestone. The raspy frustration in his voice was definitely the sound of a man craving a cigar for the hundredth time that week.

"Cripes, wouldja watch yourself? You think this is some kinda museum, people are tryin' to get somewhere!"

iii. wildcard (aka one more thing...)

[ You got ideas for interacting with this scruffy weirdo of yesteryear, then hit me up I want 'em all! ]

ii - dawning realizations

[halfdecay]

A part of Owen wanted to oversleep this morning. There isn’t anything terribly exciting about carnivals when you’re farting about by yourself. This is about as clear as an illustration to show how Owen is walking in completely unfamiliar territory without the sight of any familiar faces. Any minute he expects Jack to pluck out from the corner and shoot him that toothy American grin of his.

Apparently, that isn’t the case. Just Owen standing in one spot within the market, feasting on a small paper tray of chips smothered in cheese. By the time he stabs the plastic fork into the piping hot potatoes, he is suddenly being shoved by some muppet smelling of cigars.

Now wearing a good helping of cheese sauce on his shirt and this twat dares to yell at him?

Fuck off with all that.

“Oi! Piss off! I’m not the one fumbling around like some blundering codger.”

Rye Kalibash | Original Character

[jup1t3r]

➥ Arrival

[ For a protracted moment, all Rye's got for this world is the very vacant stare in the direction of what could be described as the most office plant looking plant he's seen in some time. Of course, he's not really seeing it, just a blur of green and the tangible absence of energy thrumming in the air.

Anybody watching close enough may see the briefest of twitches of an eyebrow before Rye looks up, eyes searching for the most plausible answer. Either somebody flipped a kill switch or-- ]

The time. Do you have it?

[ Looks like he's talking to you, person who looks like they have more than one brain cell. Or maybe you're just standing the closest. ]

➥ Ctrl + Alt + Delete

[ Oh, fucking brilliant. He seems to be in a class for Don't Be An Idiot 101 for Morons, also known as Cyber Security Awareness.

It wouldn't be hard for a stranger to successfully translate the veritable pit of unenthusiastic, mind-numbing boredom Rye's existing in from one small glance at his facial expression. Irritable sighs aside, it's like his displeasure at this joke of a class is rolling off him in waves. ]

Are people here from the fucking Stone Age or something?

[ Is he talking to anybody in particular or just the room at large? Who knows. He's not really making it abundantly clear, and maybe he just doesn't care. ]

Even my mother knows not to share her password.

➥ Dawning Realizations

[ Rye hasn't worked his way into a good enough network of brains or a reliable source of information just yet, but he's heard just enough by way of rumours to be officially interested in finding out what's going on. Not even a remarkably well-timed festival is going to dissuade him from digging.

The public network seems like a good place to start and, though he's more than certain he could hack accounts even without people posting their passwords publicly, he's not resorting to that just yet. Grimacing at the choice of activities, he shakes his head in a very stern 'absolutely not' as he's invited to join in. He'd been planning on hanging around inconspicuously instead, not participating. ]

Couldn't pay me to make an absolute mockery out of myself like that.

[ Maybe he's talking to the person who invited him to join in, or maybe another bystander. Either way he's not making a secret out of how unimpressed he is. ]

( ooc: feel free to wildcard! Rye's permissions are here. He's telepathic but doesn't quite understand that yet, so feel free to lmk if you'd like to play with that. In fact he doesn't have a decent control over any of his powers outside of anything to do with tech, so honestly it could be a disaster in the making.)

Dawening Realizations

[whisperedone]

[Garner didn't invite the man, but he was near enough to hear the exchange and he tilts his head vaguely in the man's direction. Mostly, he was something nearby to focus on when the throng of people, myriad of unknown smells, and loud noises were proving...tricky to manage. Impossible, really. Somewhere to focus might help.]

Really? Everything here is so expensive, I would expect any extra money might help.

[Not that he was volunteering.]

Then again, I don't think it's actually paid...people are just having fun after all the fear.

[His voice is low, soft, and lightly accented and his clouded eyes are directed down instead of anywhere near the man he was addressing.]

Then again, perhaps you missed that whole mess. I don't remember hearing your voice.