Piper 90: Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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goneawaymemes2020-04-04 10:47 pm
goneawaymod) wrote in goneawaymemes2020-04-04 10:47 pm
Entry tags:
TDM #1
TEST DRIVE #1
So it's your first day at your new job! Welcome to the Jorgmund Family™! It's time to settle into your new workplace on the Piper 90 rig, the coziest place of employment this side of the Livable Zone. A leader in its industry, Jorgmund is excited to have you join them in enthusiastically envisioneering team-driven paradigms.
The Piper 90 rig's mission is not only an impressive undertaking in terms of impactful customer-oriented deliverables, it's providing a vital backbone to the Livable Zone by creating a safe region for citizens to live, work, and play. Jorgmund's "outside the box" thinking means they understand the importance of wisely investing in their human capital - you! You'll soon find that you'll take pride in this vital work - and the benefits can't be beat.
Rest assured, Jorgmund's multidisciplinary approach to our world's period of recovery means we know how to keep it real when facing this opportunity for restructuring and growth. Jorgmund: Even if most of the world has gone away, we can make a world of difference!
Synergy!
USEFUL LINKS
It is recommended you check out the following links first for info on the rig, rig conditions, game mechanics, and the intro and slideshow your characters would have to endure that takes place chronologically before the Test Drive Meme:
SCENARIO #1 - MOVE-IN DAY!
After the bewildering and unpleasant onboarding process, you've finally been unleashed on the rig. (Well. To places you're allowed to go on the rig.) It's time to get acquainted with your new surroundings, process some of All Of That™, and meet your fellow captives - err, coworkers!
a) A BIT OF A MESS
Perhaps you're hungry? The mess hall food isn't amazing, but it does the job. Characters that have higher metabolic needs than your average human might be left feeling a little hungry, though. The worst part is actually the electronic sliding door: a small sign helpfully informs you that if you want inside, you need to smile for the camera! In addition to being patronizing, this may be a problem for characters who refuse to play ball, or characters with sufficiently nonhuman faces the door sensor can't read them. Remember, if then company doesn't see people like you, it's not discriminatory -- it's just indifferent! And that isn't legally actionable!
b) GOING NOWHERE FAST
The rig's elevators are a little off-kilter today. Overhead announcements mention this, but downplay the severity and are easy to miss -- which means you and your threadmate are stuck in here, somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor. You can complain into the emergency intercomm, but it might take from a few minutes up to an hour before the elevator gets rolling again. How do you pass the time?
c) SHOULD'VE TAKEN THAT LEFT TURN
You're really just trying to get somewhere else on the rig, but you've gotten hopelessly lost. Oh well, at least you're not alone! Did you run into your threadmate here? Did you lead them astray? Are they at fault? Even worse, are you somewhere full of AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY signs, mysterious equipment, and a worrying number of security cameras?
d) NEED A HAND?
You've been assigned a room and some relatively spare possessions to put in it. Unfortunately, it seems that the staff assigned to help move in new hires are all busy at the moment. Unless you want to wait around, you're going to need to lug and assemble your new assigned foldable den furniture yourself. Do you team up with another newbie? Do you try it alone and find yourself needing help? Do you come to the rescue of someone else who did that?
e) SPECIAL DELIVERY
Somebody in processing decided to give you two a quick little errand: you're supposed to take a couple boxes of files up to the executive deck. Unfortunately, a skeptical security staffer is giving you a hard time on your way there, on account of your funny-looking face, insufficient ID or sketchy-looking package. How do you deal with this and accomplish your task?
f) BLOW OFF STEAM
You're likely still a bit sore from Jorgmund fitting you with the nanochain, but you were promised a gym and you are going to use that gym, dammit. It looks like you're not alone in deciding to try out the training area. Do you train together? Spar to let some frustration out? Or are you gonna argue about whose turn it is on which piece of equipment and resent your lost solitude? You'll also find you have to contend with the communal showers when you're done.
g) NO REST FOR THE WEARY
It's the middle of the night on the rig. You're displaced from home, it's not very warm, your door doesn't shut because privacy is a "privilege" nobody has earned yet, and occasional mysterious clanging noises ring through the rig. You can't sleep, not yet, and perhaps you're not the only insomniac wandering the crew deck?
Perhaps you're hungry? The mess hall food isn't amazing, but it does the job. Characters that have higher metabolic needs than your average human might be left feeling a little hungry, though. The worst part is actually the electronic sliding door: a small sign helpfully informs you that if you want inside, you need to smile for the camera! In addition to being patronizing, this may be a problem for characters who refuse to play ball, or characters with sufficiently nonhuman faces the door sensor can't read them. Remember, if then company doesn't see people like you, it's not discriminatory -- it's just indifferent! And that isn't legally actionable!
b) GOING NOWHERE FAST
The rig's elevators are a little off-kilter today. Overhead announcements mention this, but downplay the severity and are easy to miss -- which means you and your threadmate are stuck in here, somewhere between the fifth and sixth floor. You can complain into the emergency intercomm, but it might take from a few minutes up to an hour before the elevator gets rolling again. How do you pass the time?
c) SHOULD'VE TAKEN THAT LEFT TURN
You're really just trying to get somewhere else on the rig, but you've gotten hopelessly lost. Oh well, at least you're not alone! Did you run into your threadmate here? Did you lead them astray? Are they at fault? Even worse, are you somewhere full of AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY signs, mysterious equipment, and a worrying number of security cameras?
d) NEED A HAND?
You've been assigned a room and some relatively spare possessions to put in it. Unfortunately, it seems that the staff assigned to help move in new hires are all busy at the moment. Unless you want to wait around, you're going to need to lug and assemble your new assigned foldable den furniture yourself. Do you team up with another newbie? Do you try it alone and find yourself needing help? Do you come to the rescue of someone else who did that?
e) SPECIAL DELIVERY
Somebody in processing decided to give you two a quick little errand: you're supposed to take a couple boxes of files up to the executive deck. Unfortunately, a skeptical security staffer is giving you a hard time on your way there, on account of your funny-looking face, insufficient ID or sketchy-looking package. How do you deal with this and accomplish your task?
f) BLOW OFF STEAM
You're likely still a bit sore from Jorgmund fitting you with the nanochain, but you were promised a gym and you are going to use that gym, dammit. It looks like you're not alone in deciding to try out the training area. Do you train together? Spar to let some frustration out? Or are you gonna argue about whose turn it is on which piece of equipment and resent your lost solitude? You'll also find you have to contend with the communal showers when you're done.
g) NO REST FOR THE WEARY
It's the middle of the night on the rig. You're displaced from home, it's not very warm, your door doesn't shut because privacy is a "privilege" nobody has earned yet, and occasional mysterious clanging noises ring through the rig. You can't sleep, not yet, and perhaps you're not the only insomniac wandering the crew deck?
SCENARIO #2 - YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO PANIC
Around dawn on the morning of Day Two, something goes wrong. (Wrong-er?) You awake to the sound of alarms, and a voice over the speakers telling you NOT TO PANIC! A Stuff storm has caused a brief and contained leak onto Piper 90. You may encounter strange sights or sounds. Any anomalies should be reported immediately to rig security. Thank you for your cooperation!
The nature of the problem isn't immediately clear, but over the next handful of hours you find yourself embroiled in a bizarre fracas: a Stuff leak has caused numerous inanimate objects on the rig to come to life. Furniture and appliances small and large are roaming the decks. Some of them are docile, but others are aggressive (or just troublesome due to their size). Some examples:
- A rogue photocopier spewing paper and ink
- A mahogany conference table with old clawed feet and a brand new gaping jaw
- A water cooler that scuttles the halls, squirting people with jets in varying temperatures
- Small office supplies like pencils and paperclips that swarm in large numbers
- Dressers and drawers that spit their contents at high velocity
- A room's worth of folding chairs that hunt as a pack
- An emergency fire hose that attempts to ensnare crew members in its coils
- The angriest coffee pot you have ever seen
h) GOOD MORNING, PIPER 90
Rise and shine! There are alarms going off, announcements blaring, and people are scrambling around trying to figure out what's going on. You're one of them. Freak out? Spring into action? Team up with someone to shake down a staffer for more details? Run into someone new, perhaps literally?
i) INTERIOR WRECKORATING
You've been ambushed by an animate object that seems to have it in for you, or you've heard the shouts of someone who has and come running to help. What's ruining your morning now, and what are you going to do about it?
j) ON THE RUN
The folding chairs from Presentation Room B operate as a unit, harrying their prey through the halls with much scrambling of legs and flapping of seats. They're after you, at the moment. Can you escape, or perhaps lead them into a trap? Or do you stand your ground?
k) HERE'S THE PLAN
You and your threadmate have found somewhere secure (for now) and are deciding how to deal with a larger enemy. Are you hunting it, or is it hunting you? Are you planning to take it out of commission, or just how to get away from it? Or are you just gonna hide here and lay low until this is over?
l) PROP HUNT
Things are getting back under control, thankfully. Large disturbances have been disposed of, but that leaves the little things like elusive chains of paperclips, a small but vicious stapler, pens and markers that write rude words on walls, and utensils from the mess hall. These anomalies are stealthier, but must still be dealt with, and it's up to you to flush them out.
m) CLEAN UP IN AISLE EVERYTHING
The chaos has passed, and now you've been instructed to clean up a mess. Ink or loose paper from the copier, coffee from the rampaging pot, mopping up after a water cooler, scrubbing marker off a wall, etc. You might get roped into contending with the Yuck Puddle, which is a permanent fixture and not a new development, but someone's always contending with the Yuck Puddle.
Rise and shine! There are alarms going off, announcements blaring, and people are scrambling around trying to figure out what's going on. You're one of them. Freak out? Spring into action? Team up with someone to shake down a staffer for more details? Run into someone new, perhaps literally?
i) INTERIOR WRECKORATING
You've been ambushed by an animate object that seems to have it in for you, or you've heard the shouts of someone who has and come running to help. What's ruining your morning now, and what are you going to do about it?
j) ON THE RUN
The folding chairs from Presentation Room B operate as a unit, harrying their prey through the halls with much scrambling of legs and flapping of seats. They're after you, at the moment. Can you escape, or perhaps lead them into a trap? Or do you stand your ground?
k) HERE'S THE PLAN
You and your threadmate have found somewhere secure (for now) and are deciding how to deal with a larger enemy. Are you hunting it, or is it hunting you? Are you planning to take it out of commission, or just how to get away from it? Or are you just gonna hide here and lay low until this is over?
l) PROP HUNT
Things are getting back under control, thankfully. Large disturbances have been disposed of, but that leaves the little things like elusive chains of paperclips, a small but vicious stapler, pens and markers that write rude words on walls, and utensils from the mess hall. These anomalies are stealthier, but must still be dealt with, and it's up to you to flush them out.
m) CLEAN UP IN AISLE EVERYTHING
The chaos has passed, and now you've been instructed to clean up a mess. Ink or loose paper from the copier, coffee from the rampaging pot, mopping up after a water cooler, scrubbing marker off a wall, etc. You might get roped into contending with the Yuck Puddle, which is a permanent fixture and not a new development, but someone's always contending with the Yuck Puddle.
➤ Feel free to play around with powers. If your character has powers from canon you want to play around with, go for it. If you'd like to test out possibilities for game powers, also go for it. Feel free to change it up from thread to thread if you need to. This can be handwaved as exposure to Stuff making characters' powers shift a few times before settling.
➤ Potential players may use test drive threads as their log samples. However, at least one post in their thread must fit the requirements for apps, both in length (200 words) and in quality. If you do plan on using a thread as a sample, please make sure the writing throughout your threads is a good example of your writing skills and has some solid examples of the character's voice.
➤ Players can eventually count TDMs towards AC. They can only count towards comment-based AC proofs.
➤ Potential players can opt to keep these threads as game canon when they app in, or start over fresh, based on preference. The Stuff bringing them to the game universe can fog their memories, if players don't want their character to remember TDM threads when introing into the game.
➤ The game is invite-only. Players without invites are allowed to tdm since some of them may know someone in game to ask for one, and since some people enjoy TDMs just for fun in games they don't plan to app into. But an invite is required during the apping process.
➤ The game is at a starting cap at 30 players. Right now the current number of invitees is likely to not exceed the game's 30 slots, but if we go a few over they will still be allowed to app during this first round. Future apps will be rolling apps and will have a wait queue if the cap has been exceeded.
➤ The first game round will be apps only, no reserves. Apps open: Sat 4/11/20. Game start: Fri 4/17/20.
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"I'm not asking to try and trick you and get inside your head, I'm asking out of a genuine desire to assist."
She turned her hands around and wiggled her fingers. Remember those chipped nails she'd been so concerned with earlier? She'd been asking questions like it was her job (it was), so she ought to offer some of her own answers in exchange. People liked talking about themselves, sure, but not when they thought someone was trying to take advantage of them.
"I do it too. Don't get me wrong, I love my mani-pedis and my cute clothes, but I'm usually running around in the woods. A full face of makeup and a mini-dress and wedge heels? Not exactly practical. It makes me look like a silly little girl. But everyone I hang out with looks more like you, so me trying to butch it up would still look silly and it wouldn't get me anything."
She lowered her hands and let them hang loose at her sides.
"I'm not asking for your real story. I haven't even begun to earn something like that. I just want to know the story you want told."
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Ronan didn't move. His ability to stand still and just stare at someone came in handy, but it didn't seem to have any effect on Stacia. It didn't stop her from asking stupid, invasive questions. What was his story? Ronan loved stories-- but only about other people. When they happened to him, he inevitably ended up like one of the heroes in his father's tales. Something tragic happened. Someone died. And he was in the middle of two stories now.
He was incapable of lying, so he claimed, and Stacia was right. She hadn't earned a fraction of the truth from him.
"I've got a simple solution for you. Don't tell stories about me."
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"Everybody tells stories about everybody else," she said. "What to you think gossip is? What a reputation is? What do you think I'm doing right now if not telling you a story about me? I could have let you walk out of this elevator with the story that I was scared of you, or that I wasn't scared of you and thought your tattoo was cool." She flapped a hand. "I'll admit, "oh, there's a brain in that pretty head of hers" is a little intimidating for some people, sure, but you told me than you spent $900 and who knows how many hours getting something tattooed onto your back for other people to see."
Seriously, what does he expect? She's being polite and restrained by not asking him to take his shirt off, or asking about the real meaning of $900-freaking-dollar back tattoo. She spreads her hands wide, beseeching.
"Come on, make something up for me, or I have no choice but to make it up myself."
And, to drive the point home:
"Cupcake."
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"What?" Cupcake? Was she about to segue into a story of her own involving... Wait, no. She really...
She just called him a cupcake.
His back straightened and his muscles tensed as if he'd just been challenged to a fight, not been given a pet name. "My name is Ronan," he hissed. "Don't call me that again." He made no move toward her but his eyes spelled out the word death in all caps and underlined. Metaphorically, the Stuff hadn't given him that power. Unfortunately.
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"Ronan," she repeated. "And here's me not even caring if that's your real name or not."
She'd bet good money it was though. Tough boys were so easy to needle that way, with their posturing and their "don't give me cutesy nicknames". She giggled and told another 'story':
"The last guy who glared at me that much lets me babysit his kids now."
There were details she was leaving out, a lot of them, but she waved them off.
"Listen, Ronan, I genuinely do not care about whatever secrets you have unless they become my problems. I look closely at things and I ask questions because back home if I don't? Someone could end up doing a lot of damage with the world's purest intentions. I'm not a keeper of stories, but a questioner of them. I find the holes in things and I can either shore them up or break them down."
She was doing a bit of double-talk here. Maybe he wasn't going to get that now, but he might get it later when he'd calmed down. Angry people don't think things through, that was the shortest story of Stacia's world.
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"Fuck off," he said firmly. His jaw clenched but not as hard as his fist did. "I'm not your project. I'm not your puzzle. And I'm not your cupcake." He didn't dare take his eyes off her now.
He gave her his real name, he thought before realizing it probably didn't matter. She'd find out eventually it wasn't like it was a secret.
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"Why would I-- Fine, I get it, you're a dumbass who relies entirely on his stupid haircut and generic bad decisions to convince people he's scary and throws a little baby tantrum if anyone so much as sniffs at the edges of it. Want to know how I know that? Because you're still standing there blustering even though I've told you over and over again nothing about you scares me. I don't know if it's because you're an idiot or because you're afraid of me."
Her words had teeth in them, and there was fire raging in her eyes. She took a deep breath and reined both back in.
"I'm going to guess it's the latter. Look. I don't know anything about who you are or where you're from, but I can tell that you're not one of my people, which means it's not my job to keep you in line. And, historically, when my people get involved in things that aren't their jobs, it fucks shit up. So unless you get your kicks hurting people? I don't care. You can go sit in your corner of the elevator and I'll sit in mine and we can wait for someone to fix shit in silence. Or you can take a swing at me, see how that works out for you."
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The thing with how Ronan's tough guy look and act was he'd done it so long, it'd become a part of him. He wasn't the carefree person who would sit back and let the girls in his dance class chat about movies and guys
and miss meaningful looks his way.He was Ronan Lynch, the young boy who'd seen blood and death and never learned how to cope any other way."Who are your people?" Ronan asked sharply.
He wanted to believe that the tiny girl was just what she seemed-- a harmless, talkative girl who had no associations to evil organizations. Her talking about her job did not really give him a good idea that she wasn't.
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Not a lot. Not details. But enough.
It was going to be weird. She wasn't going to let it show on her face, but it was going to be weird.
"I'm a werewolf," she told Ronan. Just a werewolf, not a Garou. She curled her hands into claws in his direction. "Rawr."
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"A werewolf?" Yeah, he wasn't buying it. Not yet. It was too likely to be a joke.
Of course, he had to allow for the possibility. Most people wouldn't believe someone like him could exist. And hell, if he thought about it, it probably was possible for him to make a werewolf. There were no limits in dreams, were there?
He focused on Stacia. "You know I've gotta ask if you have proof. Or do I have to wait for the full moon?"
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Stacia glanced around the elevator briefly, then raised her eyebrows. "Do you want to be stuck in here with an eight foot tall wolf-monster? Because you strike me as the kind of guy who values his personal space."
Right now, Jorgmund only knew about two forms: Homid and Crinos, the two most reflexive to her. Stacia wasn't going to give them more without good reason.
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"Depends on how in control you are." He accepted that monsters and personal space rarely went hand in hand. Still... "But you've got a point. Later, then. So long as you don't rip my face off."
No one had ever accused Ronan of being smart or having such a skill as basic as "self-preservation." He wanted to see a werewolf and he didn't want to be tricked by a girl. This seemed like a win/win to him.
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"I won't rip your face off so long as you don't give me a reason to rip your face off," Stacia said. "But on that note, if I abruptly make a move to leave, it's best to let me go. Even if you think you have a really good point or make, or you just have to have the last word. Don't do it. It's a bad plan."
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"So, if you're telling the truth..." Because Ronan definitely didn't want to seem like a gullible fool if Stacia was lying, never mind the fact that he was already starting to buy this explanation. "Can you control yourself or do you want to just eat people all the time? You sound like you can do it whenever." His voice began to wend its way back to an almost casual air. However his body was still tense, still ready just in case.
The best way to deflect an unwanted subject of conversation was to redirect it. Ronan had learned that from the best, his father, and later his brother, Declan, though he'd never admit the latter.
Of course, his brother probably would have warned him not to redirect it by delving into someone else's secrets unless you had experience. After all, most people expected reciprocity. It was the basics of making friends. Ronan's inability to share his deepest secrets probably said a lot about why he'd succeeded at that at total of oh, maybe four or five times.
no subject
"I don't eat people," she said. "That's disgusting. I said 'rip your face off', not 'rip your face off and eat it', gross."
She'd never Frenzied so hard that she'd fallen under the influence of the Eater-of-Souls, and she didn't think her Rage had yet reached the level where it would be a problem. Nothing Ronan knew about of course, but reputation was reputation and stories were stories. She'd already told him that she usually used clothes and makeup to affect how people saw her, but since that wasn't an option here, it was all stories and spin.
"Besides, would you go around antagonizing angry-looking teenagers if you could lose control at eat them at the drop of a hat? That's both an answer and a question, by the way. Just because we're talking about me doesn't mean that we're also not talking about you."
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Self-reflection was not one of Ronan's strong suits. He considered all the times he'd pissed someone off and how much of it was intentional versus how much an impulsive act. Just a need to lash out at someone other than himself for a change.
...Yeah, that was way to much self-reflection for one day. He was in no way prepared to brush up against any unpleasant revelations.
He just shrugged. "Maybe. It's not like I've had to think about it before." He'd be an entirely different person if he were any other strange creature.
no subject
"Well," she said, keeping the huff in her voice. "I make every effort not to engage in cannibalism, thank you very much. Any other questions, or are you satisfied with North American Werewolves 101?"
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"I've got no intention of passing a class now." Ronan settled back against the wall of the elevator. Stacia's indignation did the opposite of set Ronan on edge. He reveled in it. "You can fail me now."
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Stacia leaned against the opposite wall of the elevator.
"All right, so if you don't have questions and I'm not allowed to ask any, what do we do now? We don't have the props for most slumber party games in here."
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It was one of his favorite things. The heavy weight of a long silence, the pause of an awkward conversation (as long as it wasn't one that embarrassed him), the sweetness of staring at Adam--
That last part definitely wasn't relevant.
no subject
Even though he has a tattoo that he got for 'other people to see'. Seriously, who does that and then gets all weird when people ask about it?
"Oh, and just to head it off at the pass? You're not my type."
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Before Ronan could even comment on that, Stacia-- said that and he choked. He sounded like he'd swallowed a bug. He looked like he'd swallowed a bug.
"I have a boyfriend." Then, cause he knew that fact didn't always mean that girls were off the table for people, he added, "I'm gay."
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"Congratulations," she said when she could speak again, though not without giggling. "So do I. Mine likes to cook and doesn't mind me showing up at his place at three in the morning. What about yours?"
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"Uh." Ronan tried to picture Adam cooking and he just thought of him at Harvard, eating take out or ramen or whatever while playing games with his crying club. His heart hurt thinking about it, even now that concerns like college and Ronan not joining him were dwarfed by other worries. "He's brilliant. Really smart." And minds me summoning monsters at three in the morning but who wouldn't? "Goes to Harvard and everything. He understands me like no one else does." The change in Ronan's disposition was not just noticeable but palpable. The (partial) unwinding of his tense muscles, the softening in his voice and gaze all pointed to one fact: Ronan was clearly in love.
no subject
Stacia smiled. "Wow, Harvard. That's really impressive," she said, with nothing but sincerity in her voice. Dollars to donuts that Ronan would shut down tighter than before if he so much as thought she might be making fun of him while he was having a genuine feeling. "Mine gets me, too. Even when he drives me crazy."
At least he'd finally stopped hunting alone and started taking backup with him, like a person with basic survival instincts. Ugh.
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