⫸ TEST DRIVE 002

[tricord]

BON VOYAGE

It’s less of bon voyage, and more of a mid voyage. Space, you will find, can be extremely boring. This is a fact of life that you will have to accept. The void of it, and the distant sheen of stars or faraway galaxies will soon get old, and repetitive. The Caledonia rarely goes near them, and even the excitement of a black alert will fade when you realise nine out of ten times anomalies are false alarms.

So maybe this vague mundanity will lure you into a nice, safe little mindset of security. Maybe you will stop reacting, stop gazing wistfully out the viewdeck windows and instead long for the loud chaos that is Arcadia. It’s when you’re there, lulled into that soft place of gentle monotony that things will naturally shift.

There is a black alert as usual; the kind that takes you at warpspeed to the location of what is ordinarily just another patch of empty space. The motions of it all are all the same, right until the ship comes to a screeching halt, and then to a wild pull. Some galaxies are benign things, filled with gas giants that are red with age; this one is burning blue with newness, filled with a cataclysmic gravity pull that the crew should be prepared for … But it has been a while, after all. The pull is violent; the electronics do not like it. Power goes in and out, turbulence will throw you from one end of a room to the next. The collision of matter is felt, but damage is avoided so long as the shields remain up. You are too close to what might become a sun one day, and after the long process of pulling back enough to float, rather than scream through the abyss, you can, for a moment, watch as the Universe breathes life.

Then, after that, it’s all hands on deck to get out.

OPERATION REBIRTH

The Caledonia is an old ship, by Fleet standards. It is a skeleton modified to look new, it’s interface a little strange and some parts of her obsolete. In the depths of her, there is a closed space in engineering, where once there had been classified attempts to replicate the systems of the USS Discovery. Without the mind behind the technology, however, it sits in dust and behind the blue tint of a permanent force field.

Until now, that is.

Fresh eyes are sometimes a blessing. With you, though, the network is something of a necessity. It is perhaps the only way to send you home, or at least trace the echoes of what put you in that shuttle. Before there are experiments, there is the unlucky job of ridding the place of dust. After that, there are repairs to be done to the wiring, and then after that, there is a lot of theorising. Most frustratingly, though, you are not allowed inside. Classified means Access Denied. No Entry. Do Not Dead, Open Inside. You get the drift.

The crew are mostly only mortal, though, and everyone gets tired eventually. If you manage to sneak in during a slip up, you will find it a quiet place, glowing faintly like that galaxy in its beginning. It vibrates a little, the closer you get to the mycelium garden, however barren it is. The space mushrooms like you, and if you are curious enough to place a hand on the glass, those last few burning embers of the harvest will reach back out to you; yearning, knowing.

It’s up to you whether you tell the Captain or not.

TO BOLDLY GO

Let’s say, for now, that some time has passed. Months, perhaps a year -- you are wiser now, less naive to the fickle ways of how things work. You are trusted now, at least by Caledonia’s crew. Whether or not you have undergone the Fleet’s onsite training on Arcadia, there is a mission to be had, and you have the luxury of opting in.

One of the perks of the ship is that sometimes there are new worlds. Unknowns; unexplored places. This is one of them, nestled nicely in the heart of a warm hued galaxy. There are three habitable planets in orbit, but only this one shows signs of organic life. The mission is relatively simple:

⫸ Retrieve plant and water samples.

As always, it sounds easy. Put some water in some tubes, take some cuttings. The flora is beautiful; lush greens and vibrant hues of oranges and purple. The air sings with untouched purity, and the further you go, the larger the trees loom and the more stunning the flowerings. There is a saying about beauty, though.

i. If you encounter the Cara Blossom, you will be lured to smell it’s orange-scented petals. Inhaling deep will make you very tired, though. Tired enough to take a quick seat on the foliage, close your eyes and think to rest a minute. Hours will pass, and when you awaken, the Blossom’s roots will have started to take hold of you. The only way out is to have someone cut you out.

ii. If you encounter the Balee Shrubs, the fruits will look tempting. The pinker, the riper they are, while the darker the more sour smelling. If you opt to take a bite, you will find yourself going on what the good doctor might describe as a trip. Hallucinations, nausea, the incredible urge to strip naked and go skinny dipping. The only way to come down, unfortunately, is to eat it’s foul-smelling unripened siblings. And they do taste as bad as they smell.

iii. If you’re sensible and stick to the tasks at hand, eventually you will find signs of life. Animals of varying evolutions, some cat-like with shining coats, and some entirely dinosaur in their size and appearance. Most seem to prefer the plant life, but if you step too close, they might become just as curious about you too.
*As a note, larger animals will tend towards herbivores, while the smaller will be out for blood. The Fleet strictly forbids the killing, so set those phasers to stun. The Captain will not allow you to take any as a pet, but what he doesn’t know (probably) won’t hurt him.

⫸ Scout for resources.

iv. This includes minerals, metals, and odd energy signatures. Those who delve deeper into the mountain terrains will find evidence of dormant volcano’s emitting strong radiation signatures. If you stay too long, you will be placed in quarantine upon arrival back on board. You will experience a strange persisting sickness after the fact. Nausea will come and go, but your skin will begin to develop an uncanny orange hue which will not wash off; even when the sickness passes, the hue will persist for weeks.

v. Close to the volcano’s, there are caves and old mining shafts which indicate sentient life lives or lived here, once upon a time. The mines are filled with raw gems, which you will be asked to mine where possible. Going too deep, however, will land you and your team in the unfortunate position of a cave in. Don’t worry, though. They’ll get you out of there eventually.

⫸ The search for life.

vi. You will turn up empty handed, but eventually you will find structures that resemble shelters. Some made from wood, and others made from what looks like rocks. Inside is a sorrier sight: evidence of those who left their homes behind. Clothes, rotted food, and personal effects left in haste. You will be asked to collect suitable items for preservation and investigation. Journals, art, toys -- it is unpleasant, but necessary.

POLITICAL ANIMALS

As you arrive into ARCADIA, you will notice more security than usual. You are double scanned, and you must wear your badge at all times. It seems you have arrived in the middle of a Planetary Conference, and while Klingon's are no strange sight for the station, there are decidedly more of them. Dressed in their finest, blades strapped to their backs and their spoils of war decorating their lapels. Others in their Empire are dressed similarly, though perhaps less enticed by the gambling and the booze.

Once again, the Fleet are looking to extend their tenuous alliance. Often this is a long affair; the Caledonia's crew are not supposed to attend, however this time they are carted away in hushed tones. You may get odd stares, especially from those marked as members of the Klingon Empire; whispers, sneers. The topic of this years conference is, apparently, you.

While ARCADIA offers the usual delights (gambling, clubs of most tastes, cafe's, etc.), you may find yourself being followed. Certainly watched. It's best to watch your drinks, even the slightest hint of weakness could signal that you can be taken for interrogation.

While challenging Klingon's is ill-advised, on this occasion it is especially precarious to the peace talks. But then again, what is a drunken fight between two strangers? The worst case scenario is that you lose (a limb), or end up hauled in front of the conference. What better way to demonstrate the Fleet's duplicity, after all, if not by showing what a ticking time bomb you are.

MOD NOTES

The Test Drive Meme is open to everyone and intended to give prospective players a feel of what could be. For information about invites and apps for September, please see the mod calendar.

navigation

faq. premise. rules. taken. application. check in. breaks/drop. locations. quarters&bsns. suggestions. invite code. tessisamess

Comments

raven reyes (the 100)

[pajarita]

[ooc: already in-game but in case anyone prefers a readily written starter.]

1. bon voyage

[There is crew on the Caledonia that knows how to handle these scenarios. Presumably, a pilot and deck crew that has done countless of these missions, because this is the world she lives in right now, where people have missions in all of space. A Captain who certainly knows their way around black holes, warp speed, and black alert.

Doesn't stop her from feeling the panic that happens when the lights on the lower decks go out, and how it settles like a pressure in her stomach, her heart lodged in her throat. For a few minutes, as the systems reboot and shields go back up, Raven Reyes thinks that she alone needs to run and fix this. Despite being still relatively new to the world, to the ship, to this life, survival instincts kick in. Hard.

So she runs, the brace that makes her able to do so oiled well this time, shining black metal and leather strapped to her left leg over her pants; she runs past service androids and people, towards the engines.

Until she bumps into someone -] Shit, sorry. [- and the lights come back on. She is in front of a large window now, and outside, the universe bursts into life. For that second, she's glued to the view.]

3. to boldly go

[It's the first time she's wearing the space suit, which is sleeker than the space walking one she was used to on the Ark. Despite the jitters of being able to go down to the surface of this new planet, she's got a giddy, big smile on her face under the screen of her mask.

She shifts her weight from one foot to another, waiting for the team leader to open the shuttle doors that will allow them out. Impatient. Definitely impatient.

While a robotic voice urges them to check supplies one last time before proceeding, she chances a glance sideways and finds a new face. Green around the gills, in that not-from-here kind of way.]

Hey - first time?

jem walker ( in the flesh )

[medals]

operation rebirth

[Sleep eludes her most nights. At first there was an attempt, and then an avoidance, and now there is a weary routine of laying down and staring at the ceiling through the dark. She is alone, for now. Part of her hopes it stays that way; that these halls never become so filled that someone else might have to endure her tossing and turning or the muffled sobs. This room is hers, now, and she will weep and feel sorry for herself if she wants to.

Obviously, she would much rather sleep peacefully. When it doesn't come, she slips on her slippers and the thin robe, and thinks to go to the mess hall. Replicate tea, or something vaguely caffeinated. But the halls are quiet, the night shift tucked away in their own corners. No one is expecting her, or looking, and her curiosity leads her down the paths she otherwise avoids out of fear of reprimand. The thing is, she likes the ship; she likes the familiarity of a hierarchy; likes the order of it. Even her most rebellious urges roll over for it, but in the dead of night, there's no one really to tell her what to do.

She spots the ensign leaving engineering, sees the door stay green instead of red, and when they're gone, she tiptoes to the door, and wonders just what could be dangerous about what lies behind. So of course she goes in.

Nothing is familiar, of course. The consoles are beyond her, but she follows the distant blue glow and stands in front of the glass doors, and just stares at the mycelium, enchanted. ]

to boldy go, vi.

[She has a memory like this: once, when the Rising had taken over her life, Bill Macy had sent her and Gary to patrol the houses for the dead. He had said to burn them, and they had. But the houses had been like this one, things left behind, food turning black on the plates. Jem had knew most of the dead by face alone, and even here, knowing no one, she feels like bitter sadness that comes with a life wasted.

Whatever pushed these people away, it must have been terrible.

She runs her fingers along the odd furniture, looks for things that seem personal. Things that she might want preserved, if this were her home. It's morbid, and after twenty minutes of it, she has to step outside. ] Sorry, sorry - I need some air.

players choice.

any of the above!

mobius. | mcu

[alltime]

bon voyage

[He's so sick of being jostled. This is his first though upon being thrown from his bed, right onto the cold floor of his quarters. He lands in a mess of his sheet and pillow, some of his odds and ends landing squarely on his face. There will be a bruise on his forehead tomorrow, maybe. Just one more thing to be cranky about.

He swears under his breath while he gathers his wits about him, and then he slips his feet into his slippers and starts the long walk to find out why the heck he's been so rudely awakened. Why the whole ship is in chaos. Mobius is old; emergencies hardly phase him now as much as losing a solid eight hours does. ] God, what in the Hell is going on now?

[This is to no one in particular, but maybe you hear it just before stops by one of the circular windows, and looks. He's never seen the beginning of a universe before. In all the times he's erased parts of timelines, he's never seen one being born. The crankiness begins to ebb away, and despite himself, a smile slips onto his lips. ] Geez, would you look at that.

to boldly go, iv.

[As far as oopsies go, this is not the worst thing to happen to Mobius. Quarantine part 2 is a nightmare, obviously, but it's short lived and entirely harmless. The problem, of course, is that he is bright orange. Just absolutely neon. Sure, he isn't alone in this, but it's still a little embarrassing. Now people know he made an oopsie. ]

Do not, [he says, taking a seat. It's the mess hall; he has a tray of food and a strong cup of replicated coffee. He makes a pained expression.] Do not say a word about it. Pass me the salt.

network.

Anyone got any real hooch? This replicated stuff is gonna be the reason I end up t-total.