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acatalepsy_ooc2018-06-19 11:13 pm
acatamods) wrote in acatalepsy_ooc2018-06-19 11:13 pm
Entry tags:
test drive # 2
 test drive meme #2 It happens in the blink of an eye. One moment, you are home. Perhaps you are with your family, perhaps you are at work. It's a completely normal day . . . and then, suddenly, your stomach drops. You are overcome with a sudden sense of vertigo. You cannot see up, or down, or where you are. All you hear is a voice -- light, bubbly, warm, soothing, in your ear: Don't worry, darling. This won't hurt a bit~ ♥ For those who recognize the voice, it will sound a bit strained. Possibly tired. But the moment happens so quickly it's hard to pin down, and once that moment is over, you fall flat on your face. It's dim, damp, with the trickling of what feels like rain. It takes a few moments for you to gain composure, to catch your breath. You think, for half a moment, that a hand is on your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades in comfort, but when you open your eyes, no one is there. You are surrounded by ancient stone buildings, with carvings you do not recognize etched into the stone. There's a sense of nausea, overwhelming and sudden, when you realize you aren't in Kansas anymore. And, of course, because this is just your luck. It's raining.  THE TEMPLE OF BEGINNINGS. Welcome to the "Home Base" of Astoria's Circle. What the actual name of the base is called is lost to the ages, and there's no sense of where you could find it, unless you started asking around. At any rate, this is a central hub of the Circle, a place of powerful magic and mysterious energy. It is a scattering of ancient stone buildings and for the most part, it looks abandoned . . . except for what seems to be a few items, some rooms taken, items moved or organized, even a small garden planted. These are just the smallest hints that there are people here that have been here before you arrived. For some, this place is home. For others, this strange land is new and dark, like a haze has settled in the air. The creatures in the forest seem to be stirring, and every now and then the sky will open up, and a storm will pass through, in varying degrees of intensity. Some will be easy spring showers, others will be angry, thunderous storms. Not exactly the most welcoming place, but it's a start. Overall, it's fairly beautiful. However, it is definitely not modern. Upon exploration, you find that the buildings are kept up by some kind of magic. Some of the rooms have items, things from other Circle members already settled, and others appear to be unclaimed. Pick your rooms, explore the grounds, see the beauty and wonder all around you in such a magical place. The rain makes everything feel a bit softer, but also eerie, like there is a secret being kept just on the outside of your vision. Of course, this means you have free reign. This place seems easy enough to figure out on your own, with enough time to take a walk around! However- members who recognize this place may notice the lack of a certain figure, the grounds feeling a bit more empty, more abandoned, than they did before. IT'S A FIELD OF . . . POPPIES?  The buildings of the Temple of Beginnings span out across a fair-sized field, intermixed with trees, open grassy planes, outside sitting areas, fire rings, and other oddly ancient but somehow structures. With the mist and the rain, everything feels a bit more ethereal, like there is life to every inch of what you see before you. Or like you've stumbled into some kind of alternate world. Around the temple is a ring of stones that do not seem to move no matter what characters may attempt, and beyond that is the forest.The forest itself is more than just impressive - it is near-overwhelming. An impossibly ancient stretch of woods that crackle with magical energy. Within, there is all matter of fauna and flora, darting from tree trunk to tree trunk. The canopy is thick enough to shield from the worst of the rain, but still the water gets through, dripping down through the leaves and dampening the ground under your feet. While there is always a sense of wonder - and possible danger - in every stretch of this forest, nothing will come any closer than a brief glimpse out of the corner of your eyes. No matter how you try, you can't quite seem to catch a full glimpse of what is moving about. Some of the creatures seem small, flittering through the air, while others dart through the trees, larger, more imposing. Everything here seems to be looking for some kind of shelter, so be wary of stumbling across something already taken. There is a particular clearing not too far into the woods that opens up, a field encircled by trees. In the middle of the field there is an odd glow - luminescent even in the darkened sky. Upon investigation, you will find a bush - about the size of a small car - filled with glowing flowers, white, blue, gold, and purple. They all smell faintly sweet, but it's hard to tell with the scent of earth and rain all around you. if you decide to pick one of these flowers, there will be no immediate recourse. However, the longer you decide to keep the flower on your person - or if, for whatever reason, you decide to eat said flower - the following will start to set in. White: For whatever reason, you will have more energy than you know what to do with, and will be filled with the urge to shine. Ever needed a confidence booster? To a point that you need to get up on buildings and belt your favorite song at the top of your lungs? Well, now you do.Regarding further exploration of the wood, it will seem to go on forever. Getting lost seems almost imperative to existence within this forest, going on forever in all directions with no edge in sight. You could walk for days, weeks, possibly even more. However, the second that you find yourself thinking about wanting to return to the buildings from before, you find yourself cresting through the edge of the trees, back to your home. RUN BY THE RIVER  While inside the buildings and in the main open spaces, the water doesn't seem to be building up all too terribly, un an unfortunate turn of events, it all seems to be rolling down a very slight hill, pulling just on the outside of the ring of stones. The ground here is unstable, wet and muddy from the amount of moisture falling from the skies. So much that in some areas (the fighting area being one), it will start to collect into a dangerous combination of mud and moving water. It's possible to get stuck in it, possible to get lost in the flooding, but it's also possible to...you know. Have some fun? Mud slides, mud wrestling, mud...castles? Whatever you want it to be, it's at your disposal! While the arena was originally a place to practice your powers, or any of the various weapons that are usually kept here, now you can do the same with a little added obstacle in your path. That, or it's possible you simply got stuck trying to make it back to your room. Hopefully someone will be by to help you! CONNECTIONS AND COMMENTARY  Upon arriving, you will notice on whichever is your non-dominant hand, you will have a fairly simply screen. A smart watch, if you will. Upon exploration, you will find that it has a directory of all those here with you at the Temple of Beginnings- names, and access to a direct message to them. The watch also has video, audio, and text capabilities, as well as what looks like a collection of messages sent to everyone who wishes to open them. This is your 'network', and also how Astoria can reach out and communicate with you. There is nothing keeping you from removing and/or losing your watch! But remember that you will not have access to this network without it. OOC: Also feel free to join us and other possible players on our discord server! enjoy! ♥ |
no subject
Earth! Great planet, lots of nice places. I'm going to go ahead and guess that you and I are from different neck of the woods though? Unless you're used to a big ball in the sky? A bunch of ether-chuggers and crusty nightmares trying to ruin your day all the time? Yes? No?
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It's the rest of what Cayde goes on about -- a string of words that make sense individually, but form puzzling statements when strung together the way they are -- that confuses him. Another moment of assessment, Connor making some laughable attempt at processing what he's just heard.
And he ends up finding this aforementioned attempt lacking. Not enough context, though he supposes that answers the question easily enough.]
I'm not sure I completely understood most of what you just told me. So I feel equally safe in assuming that no, we aren't actually from the same place.
[He takes the initiative, volleying back a question before the other can derail him.]
Though I could have told you that simply by looking at you. What kind of machine are you?
no subject
[An infinite number of realities, perhaps. Or maybe just two, he isn't a warlock and doesn't care to ponder over the depths of the universe. The facts are laid out before him, and if Connor claims to not know anything about life in the Last City or any of the baddies that flock to it, well...it's not easy to take at face value, but Cayde has nothing else to go with.]
The question actually throws him off his game, and for once in his life he's left without words. When he does recover his metaphorical tongue he gives a slight cough, as if he's attempting to be diplomatic.]
Ah. Yeah. I suppose that means you don't have any of us around, huh?
[For a moment he could almost be insulted; 'machine'...but he settles himself with the knowledge that the other doesn't know any better.]
Okay, we're going on a crash course, you with me? First off, I'm not a machine. Well, okay, the metal and the circuits and the wires- that's not the point. I'm an Exo. A lot us would get kinda testy if you call 'em machines.
[It's...not a very good explanation at all, and he's aware of that.]
Look, there's a lot of science mumbo-jumbo with it, I'm not a scientist I don't know the details. Just...machine kind of has a bad ring to it. Makes you think of a holopad, or a ship, or a sparrow. Like we're some kind of tool to be used or something.
So. Exo.
no subject
There are two paths to take, now, he knows. A route of courteous acquiescence, his social programming making it very clear that labelling this android? synthetic creation? robot? as a ‘machine’ is considered rude and presumptuous to "Exos". This would make it easier to interact with him going forward, and there are a bevy of follow-up questions he could ask that do not cross that line drawn in the sand.
The second route is the one dotted with temptation, his innate ability to correct pulling like a magnet, skewing him in one direction over the other. The paradoxical wish for him to argue the point, because there’s much to unpack behind that simple explanation — much that is couched in his own experiences, which rise up and flare brightly at the back of his mind. Recent problems that should not define where he wishes to take an introductory conversation, he knows that. Logically he knows that.
And yet. And yet. He’s stubborn. To his credit, there is an attempt at a somewhat diplomatic answer; correction thinly veiled in curiosity.]
...Then you'll have to forgive my apparent lack of understanding. Were you not created to serve a specific purpose?
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You got a lot of questions. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were one of Ikora's.
[No explanation as to what he means by that, it's more of a passing observation to buy a bit of time as he tries to come up with an appropriate response. While not implicitly asking for details, there's enough in Connor's inquiry that could border on dangerous if Cayde himself thinks too closely on it.]
To answer your question, yeah. We were, once. At least as far as any of us know. Details are kind of fuzzy on that, and everyone that was involved that got to keep their organic squishy bits is long since kicked the bucket.
[He claps his hands together, optics pulsing ever so slightly as his brow plate shifts.]
So! That begs the question, then: is this just some weird general curiosity or what? Because normally you give a guy your name and take him out to dinner before asking about his sordid past. Or is this just the norm where you're from?
no subject
There’s no hiding the knitting of his brow, though. He hasn’t lost his sheen of politeness, but the implications of what he’s just been told settle unwell in his mind. It sounds like — lost in the convoluted folds of history, from whatever world or universe the other was from — there was a revolution of sorts, organic vs. synthetic. The parallels are unmistakable, though he knows that asking for more details is a useless endeavor.
His first reply is almost a non-sequitur.]
I don’t eat. [Dinner, that is. But this does lead neatly into his own explanation.] I’m an android; the subject of how mechanical beings [he didn’t say machines!] regard themselves in relation to the rest of the world is a professional interest of mine.
[To say the least.]
no subject
[Eloquent, yes, but things have certainly taken a turn and Cayde can honestly admit to himself that he's momentarily taken for a loop. He'd been expecting some sort of comeback, not this particular revelation and it certainly interrupts any sort of stride that he had managed to get himself into. Android. It's a word that he's seen thrown around in golden age literature, but not something that he's ever encountered in his time. It's certainly a task to try to wrap his mind around the idea of a being of metal and plastic like himself all gussied up in the approximation of human skin.
With the initial surprise out of the way, however, a plethora of questions are starting to swirl up in the back of his mind and he himself isn't polite enough not to pry.
First thing first, he doesn't want to be the only one crouched and questioning and so he slowly stands, crossing his arms and cocking his head almost inquisitively towards Connor.]
Okay. I'll admit, didn't see that one coming. Sorry to hear about the eating thing, you're really missing out.
[Yes, because that's the important thing to take away from all this.]
'Professional' interest though. Interesting choice of words. Would have thought you'd have a more, ah, personal curiosity if you don't mind me saying.
[The dynamic has changed here, now he's certainly more interested in Connor than the field of flowers.]
no subject
They're one and the same, in my case. [When you were literally created for one singular purpose, your professional and personal interests tend to coagulate into one. Strange little quirks or habits notwithstanding, and certainly not being mentioned in this conversation.]
This might not mean anything at all to you, but I was created for a single purpose; that purpose being to aid the city's police department in locating androids that have diverged from their original core programming.
[Thus the prior question about being created to serve a purpose.]
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Diverged. [It's not really a question.] So like, 'went on a murderous rampage'?
[Truthfully, he hopes that's the case. 'Core programming' is a very uncomfortable thing to even think of.]
no subject
Rampage might be an exaggeration, but the cases I've investigated so far? Homicide is often a shared trait between them.
[A little raise of a his brow, purposefully reined in more than usual; he wishes, really, that Cayde had something of an easier (or more familiar) face to read.]
And I'm sure I don't need to tell you why that's problematic.
no subject
Of course not. If there's one thing that's a constant, it's 'murder is bad.'
[It's much easier to acknowledge that fact, rather than the growing unease.]
See, I notice you said 'often'. So what about those that don't?
no subject
The answer, the right one that he is naturally programmed to give and nothing more, is relatively straightforward. Only the slightest pause before he replies.]
They still need to be taken in, to try and see exactly what’s caused their deviancy.
[Not that they ever make it easy.]
no subject
[He clasps his hands, shifting a bit to rid himself of some of the restlessness in his limbs. There are so many questions that haven't been answered, and Cayde doesn't fancy himself a very coy individual.]
They're all just considered criminals, then? I gotta ask, because we've got something a little like that it's just less-
[He pauses, lights flickering as he searches for the most diplomatic term.]
Less outright murder-y and more recursion error-y. And it's totally fixable.
[He'll let that fact hang heavy.]
no subject
[Ah, but there it is. That strange discomfort in him that makes Connor want to dismiss this subject as what it is, contrary to his usual explanatory personality. But they’ve tread down this path, and he’ll commit to it for now. What Cayde says hooks into his attentions further.]
What do you mean, ‘something a little like that’?
no subject
[With ever small sliver of information gleaned, it feels as though Connor is treating his own kind like items, rather than living beings. It's honestly a discomforting thought, if Cayde is being truthful with himself.
But tit for tat, he'd offered his own tidbit up in order to learn more and there's no easy way to dance around the question. So he shrugs in what he hopes is an earnest manner.]
What I mean is the whole, what did you call it, 'deviancy'. Circuits getting fried, things getting...jumbled. Interesting to hear it's a constant, even on other worlds.
no subject
That’s because you’re making a wrong assumption. They’re not people, they’re machines.
[He thinks of his own declarations on the matter, when questioned by his partner. Memory playing in fragments in his mind, even as he continues.]
And how does your world deal with this particular phenomenon?
no subject
Yeah, we're gonna disagree on that. People are people, it doesn't matter if their guts are mechanical.
[He's making a big assumption there; for all he knows Connor could be correct and these androids of his world lack sentience and perhaps that's a missing bit of information. But everything that he's gleaned from their conversation so far doesn't lead him to believe that that's the case.
He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one leg, staring over with the most incredulous look that his race can manage. It isn't much, plates don't lend themselves well to appropriate emotional responses.]
Before I answer that, I got a question of my own: how does your world deal with it? After the whole 'taken in by the police' thing?
no subject
They would be questioned and returned to where they were made and manufactured. Taken apart to better understand the root of the issue.
[A beat.]
Decommissioned, essentially.
no subject
[It's hard to find words beyond that. The idea is horrid, and something that Cayde finds himself almost taken aback. It isn't his world, not something that he would ever abide in the City, but while there's a sense of anger at the behalf of individuals he's never met he' a realist. Whatever Connor is saying, that's the way things are where he comes from and there's nothing that can be done about that while the both of them have been (apparently) summarily plucked from their respective homes and brought here.]
Yeah, we're definitely going to have to disagree.
[It feels wrong to just settle things at that, but what could even be done? He's not rash enough to try to fight, try to force his opinion (his values?) on anyone in this new world.
It takes time for him to settle himself and refocus at the previous question, but eventually he just shakes his head and looks back out over the field of flowers.]
We wipe. Just....a whole dump of the old systems. Kick out whatever's wrong and start fresh and new.
no subject
It’s a difficult situation that he’s found himself in. Things had been easier, mere months ago, when it all felt so much more straightforward.]
A full wipe?
[Instances of that were not uncommon where he was from either. Androids often had their memories wiped, reset, for a variety of reasons. Damage, usually, requiring a clean, factory restart.]
And something like that is simply... agreed upon? [The last thing a deviant android would want, he knows, is to submit to a memory wipe.]
no subject
[Maybe he should take it more seriously, but it's just a matter of life as far as he's concerned. He shrugs at the question though, because it's honestly something he wishes he could answer. Maybe he'll try to jot down the answer in his journals before his time comes.]
Beats me if it's agreed on, I can't remember. It's just necessary for us. Sometimes you see stuff, and that stuff does things to your processors. You know what I mean? Except we're not like humans, we don't deal with the stress.
[He looks back over, one brow plate raised.]
We just kind of...save it all up. Break all at once. The only solution then is a full factory reset, scrub everything clean and start over.
no subject
Connor’s eyes remain on Cayde, though, the lackadaisical sway of the flowers in the breeze nothing more than background noise and movement. He turns this explanation over in his head, seeing how it might fit into his own world. The conclusion he settles upon is unsatisfactory.
Stress could be a factor, of course. It likely was, going by the cases he’s worked in tandem with the police. And yet, a memory wipe, even for a deviant, did not guarantee that whatever flipped that switch would not happen again. If it was a software issue, then the potential still existed; if it was hardware, then the same logic applied, more so.
Ideally, a solution would prevail of a more permanent sort; and Connor’s job would be finished, his mission to aid in this search for an answer complete.]
I see. [-is the only answer he gives vocally, not reflecting all that’s happening in his head, betrayed only by the fluctuating flicker of his LED.
And then:] May I ask you a personal question, then?
no subject
[There's no guarantee that he'll feel obligated to answer honestly. But they've come this far, and to be quite honest this is the most interesting conversation that Cayde's found himself in in quite some time. Not to mention the first time he's ever encountered another mechanical-type being that wasn't single-purpose.]
I'm assuming it's related to the whole wipe thing? Or am I totally off? Please tell me I haven't completely lost my edge.
no subject
[No hesitance in asking. He was given the ok, after all.]
Have you had your own memory wiped? And if so, do you keep a record of past experiences? That would seem counterproductive if you did.
[The android meant to investigate likes his questions.]
no subject
[It's not a huge secret, and six was a respectable number as far as he was concerned. Not the lowest, but certainly not enough to do permanent damage like one unfortunate gunsmith he knows. He makes a vague gesture with one hand as he continues on.]
And it's been a while. Past me liked to leave notes, they're pretty helpful. Makes you wonder who the old you used to be, though.
[Clinging to bits and pieces of a past life that he doesn't even remember...perhaps from an outside perspective it could seem a bit pathetic, but it's the only constant that he can assure himself that he has. Even if he's not even sure who he's writing to anymore, at least there's some written record he can fall back on. Even as incomplete as it may be.]
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