piper90 | Entries tagged with remy lebeau

[the feed opens on Saturday’s wide and glacial grin.]

[the camera pans around, showing the open FOX coffins and the empty, staring bodies within. It lingers pointedly on the children. Saturday speaks over it.]

So, guys, this is how they make FOX. They take people, people like you - from the livable zone, from the settlements, from people who cause trouble or get in their way - and their cut their brains out. Make them living dead. Stuff flows in - [she pans up to the tangle of tubes, focusing on the inflowing Stuff] - but since there’s no mind, it can’t turn into anything. No dreams, no fears, no hates or loves or desires. It becomes FOX. [focus on the outflow]

[she resumes steering the camera around, lingering on the slack faces of the victims in their coffins.]

These are people from your world. Your people. Your children. Jorgmund is consuming them, and for what? To preserve a scrap of a dead world by killing its future!

[the camera flies by a row of child-sized coffins]

Is that worth this? Would you rather kill children then learn to live in a new world? ‘Cause you can live in it.

[the camera finally turns away from the coffins, back to her face. Her gaze is solemn and sincere, almost pleading]

You can. Not like you did before. In a new way, maybe a harder way at first, but you can live in this world. You’ve seen that people can. All you gotta do is not be afraid of things being new and different. Having to learn new things, maybe start over from scratch a couple places - is that really the worst thing that could happen? Worse than this?

[the camera’s pulled back a little as she speaks; when she gestures, you can see the horror at her fingertips]

Even if every single human fucks it up an’ everyone dies, wouldn’t you rather go out - not having been part of this? You do have the power to stop it. You are Jorgmund - not the executives, not the shareholders.

[the camera pulls farther back as she spins, pacing towards the audience, direct and fearless and imploring]

You, the people who run and guard the Rig, who clean the offices, who file the paperwork. You soldiers, you engineers, you secretaries, you janitors and middle managers. You have the power here. If you want this to stop, then stop it. Everything Jorg has, you gave it. Take it back, and make a better future.

Or don’t. But now you know the truth.

[She points at them, brandishing a finger like the judgment of god]

So pick a side.

[end transmission]

[[ooc: characters can and should do locked discussions here so plotting is in one place]]

Current Music: "The Future," Leonard Cohen

kingofneworleans

[Remy's kicked back on one of the beds in his room, comm on hover as he shuffles a set of cards carelessly. The kind of movement that's used by people trying to deal with left over energy.]

Merci beaucoup for de distraction, mes amis. Made gettin' in an' outta de Executive Deck a lot easier.

[Did people know that there was a group breaking into the Exec deck? A few. Saturday certainly implied that there were folks who knew about it, at least.]

Got some interestin' bits of info an' kit, too.

babylieutenant

[ Hello, the Rig. There's a young woman with the most shockingly lilac colored eyes ever to be seen peering into the camera on her communication device. She looks awkward and a little uncomfortable in the issue jumpsuit. She smiles, though. It's a very bright, winning smile, too. ]

Er, hello honoreds. My name is Lieutenant Tisarwat, of the Radch.

I'm not sure how i came to be here, but now that I am I'll be doing my best to fit in and pitch in where I can, and I hope that we'll be able to work together in the future!

[ For all her discomfort she manages to come across pretty genuine. ]

I do have a small request, however. Does anyone know where I can get some...

[ AHEM. ]

Some gloves?

wheyoftheadept

[nb: if you are not trapped in the hell town, you can't see this, per mods]

[Saturday's image, when you open the video feed, is faintly green-tinted. This lends a yellowy look to the bright-red stripes on her short-sleeved shirt. She's also wearing jeans overalls, with shorts that end above the knee. It looks like a ten year old's outfit - because it is]

Hi. Hello? Is anyone else out there? I'm with three of us - besides me there's Loken, Kerrigan, and, uh, Guts.

[The camera pans over to the meanst sonuvabitch-looking three-legged junkyard dog you ever saw. Its eyes are unnervingly human.]

Guts is. Not quite himself at the moment. He's still in there, just - did anything like this happen to anyone else? If there is anyone else? Something more then this place dressin' us up funny an' trynna make us read off a script.

And does anyone remember how we got here?

onequartershark

This is Carolina. I've been asked to make a... public service-slash-safety announcement.

[ Carolina looks tired. Carolina also sounds tired, her voice is as dry as the Sahara. From how her eyes keep flicking downward, she's evidently reading something aloud. (And, on occasion, squinting judgmentally at the choices of whoever wrote it.) ]

It has come to the attention of management that certain individuals were... particularly enthusiastic about our recent Mandatory Fun Team Building Activity.

[ She pronounces the capital letters. As for the activity: It was paintball. There were winners. There were losers. There were tears. Carolina is very much among those who may have won a little too hard and has the bruises to prove it.

So do some other people.

She continues, still mostly monotone. ]

While employee participation in Mandatory Fun Activities is compulsory and enthusiasm is encouraged, management wishes to remind you that it is our goal here at Jorgmund to win together. Unsportsmanlike behavior, excessive force, and - [ She hesitates for just a split second, clenching her jaw as she obviously swallows the desire to argue ] - bending of the rules are not welcome in Mandatory Fun and may result in corrective action.

Those who have demonstrated a need for corrective action today already know who they are.

[ She gives the camera a long, significant, withering look. ]

This concludes the public service-slash-safety announcement. Have a pleasant day and...

[ She doesn't roll her eyes, but it's a very near thing. ]

...remember we're all here to make this better, together.

((OOC: This post is intended to refer to a big, stupid, chaotic game that is described through what characters say/what kind of shape they're in/what they complain about afterward. Improvise, imply need for corrective action, find ways your character got to sit out and laugh at everyone else, etc. Have fun with it! ))

whethertheyshould

I've done some asking around, and if you're wondering why you were targeted or bitten by the, ah, the so-called 'cherubs', I've pretty much narrowed it down to you being in love. I don't know if trying to not feel loving feelings helps, however. I would say it couldn't hurt to try, but I think what hurts a lot less than that is simply avoiding the areas where they are gathering, which is in the hallways.

piper90npcs

[Washburn sends this by all-hires text, rather than announcement. Anyone who responds will be responding "reply all".]

Good afternoon, all of you. I have good news for you. You all performed well beyond our expectations in rooting out the child-stalking intruder. I speak for everyone here in saying that the favor is more than appreciated, especially since your actions ensured that the crisis was handled with zero losses to property or persons. The culinary staff have been authorized to issue one additional cup of Jell-O at dinner tonight as a token of that gratitude. Have a nice, productive day. -R. Washburn

wheyoftheadept

[Saturday looks like hell. She's showered, at least - her hair is wet and there's a towel around her neck, but her visible skin is covered in scrapes and bandages, and there are bags under her eyes.]

Hi, guys. Just got back from - well, I'm gonna be real honest here and tell you my own memories are a little fucked. Jorg pulled me right outta medical to run escort on some civvie caravan. We ran into a Stuff storm. They tell me it's been like two months?

[She runs a hand through her hair, wearily.]

What have I missed?

piper90npcs

[That horrible alert sound goes off on all their communicators, and after three minutes, Richard Washburn shows up on the screen. He clearly hasn’t sleep, although he’s just as clearly doing his best to hide that fact.]

Good early morning, hires. Unfortunately, it seems like there’s been very little forward progress on identifying which of you is the shapeshifter, and just as little progress finding the body of whomever it’s impersonating. We’ve spoken with some of our foremost scientists and they believe with a significant degree of certainty that this Stuff creature can only impersonate child-friendly figures.

Some of you have petitioned me and have made compelling cases that no child would ever want anything to do with you, and as such I’m clearing you for release for an internal mission to find the body of the person who was replaced by the impersonator. The following people are cleared to leave…Mr. Price, Mr. Winchester, Agent South Dakota, Agent Washington, Ms. Burnham, Ms. Kerrigan, Alia, Agent Tucker, Mr. Loken, Ms. Haynes, Guts, and…Mr. McDonald.

Hopefully they’ll be alive still.

For the rest of you, it’s been pointed out to me that there are ways you may be able to examine each other and determine who among you is a shapeshifter, and that you may need to demonstrate powers or look at each other in person. As such, while the living quarters as a whole remain locked, you are all released from your dorms and may mingle with each other.

The higher-ups have gotten impatient with this entire thing, so if you haven’t identified the imposter in the next…[he checks his watch]…two hours, my hand may be forced and I may need to utilize your collars to see if we can use discomfort to force the creature to reveal itself.

Please continue to keep me updated.

morebetter

[ooc: Mac's opt-out post, as this thread will undoubtedly contain misogyny, alcoholism, homophobia, etc, is here.]

So it’s come to this. Some of you have reached out to me, and I don’t blame you, for dating advice. I am, after all, very experienced in scoring with women, and they usually find me pretty irresistible as well, as the walk-in clinic can attest.

Anyways. I used to have a system called the “M.A.C.”, a.k.a. “Move in After Completion”, where I’d help my buddy seduce a chick by pretending to be the booksmart friend and then when he ghosted her, I’d go comfort-bang her, but it turns out that that got really old after a while because they’d like, cry all the time, and women are already gross and whiny enough before they’re crying, and also she’s expect you to read her poetry or something and that’s really gay. So I dropped that one. I guess I recommend it if you’re really into getting snot all over your shoulder and pretending you give a ████, but that’s a weird kink, bro.

There’s also one I’m pretty sure works, which is breaking and entering into someone’s house to make sure they know that you’ve scoped out the weaknesses in their security system and thus, are a more securer person than whatever idiot originally installed it. That demonstrates your mastery of protecting them. If you do it in the middle of the night, and you don’t wake them up, you can use that time in the morning to do some pushups or practice your karate or something so that when they come downstairs and see you, their first thought is holy ████, that dude is RIPPED, and I’m going to let him into my body’s ████ areas immediately.

Finally, the best dating advice I can give is to lie. Lie about everything. The more you lie, the more mysterious you are. If you lie, for example, about being a secret agent fighting the KGB, and they start to ask you what that’s like, you can look at them very seriously and go [putting on a serious, dark, movie-style voice] “I could tell you but I’d have to kill you” and they’ll just swoon in mystery. You don’t even have to lie about cool stuff. You can pretend you have a car and then say [putting on a serious, dark, movie-style voice again] “I could tell you but I’d have to kill you” and they’re going to assume you drive a flying Lambo for the mob that goes to space or something, and there is nothing, nothing, nothing sexier than having sex with someone you don’t trust and know nothing about who says he’s gonna kill you.

Anyway, apply literally any of these, and you losers will be swimming in ████ by sundown.

( I’ve made a visual aid for the illiterates. )

acroodawakening

[cw: mention of death arenas, and a little blood.]

[He briefly got an explanation on what the little lock thing means. In a little while it'll make him hopeful because ongoing locked communication is a great thing if you want to rebel. Right now he's bristling with too much annoyance to find anything heartening.]

[He turns the comm on and spends a good half hour with it first, figuring out the interface. It's not as intuitive for him as it might have been for some others, but he gets there. The hover mode is neat. That's a new one. Again, when he is less pissed off, he'll be excited and want to know how it works.]

[Right now he needs to vent somewhere and if the Rig staff can't see the locked posts, only other people trapped here like him will see it. If the other New Hires sell him out and tell the staff he's faking the stupidity thing, they're all doomed from a lack of cooperation anyway.]

Hi.

[The young man on the screen is noticeably small, compared to the bunk he's sitting on. In his world? He's taller than his some of his family, lanky but muscular. In other worlds, where people are absolute giants, he's small and wiry in comparison. Guy is only 5'4" and his entire frame matches that. It isn't like he's a teen or an adult with stunted growth, he's just a tiny fully grown adult, complete with muscles that make the top part of his coveralls fit a little tightly.]

[They didn't give him back his hair tie, so he's using an extra bootlace for that and tying a little ponytail on the top of his head as he speaks. His hair is on the coarse end and otherwise it just sticks up all over.]

I'm Guy. Guy Crood. [Really, it was official, the last name.] I'm sure this Jorgmund is just super, I really am. I am just so happy to be here. Because I got kidnapped from my perfectly nice world with stunning natural wonders, and my family, and a farm with all the food I could eat, to a broken nightmare city where they made us repeatedly fight to the death and brought us back to life, as a way to terrorize and control their slaves with a show of power.

And then! And then I had the stunningly good fortune to get away from that world because of a bunch of magic dust, and then I wound up here! In a rolling tin can. [He knows what cans are. A lot of arena food came in cans.] With lightning in my stomach they can trigger any time to make me do what they want.

Not only did I not magically get sucked back home instead - to my family and my beautiful, wonderful mate, who all probably think I got dragged off and eaten by a predator - I also got pulled away from all my friends who are trying to survive in said gruesome death matches in the other nightmare future place.

[He holds up a finger.]

Actually, excuse me for a second.

[He is visibly shaking with anger over his circumstances and he starts exorcising those feelings by standing up and repeatedly kicking his locker in, denting it.]

[In between kicks, he keeps talking, his voice halfway between annoyed and conversational.]

I'm sure you're all very nice people! I look forward to getting to know you!

[He finishes his little attack by punching the locker so hard he splits his knuckles open. Then he sits down again, just letting them bleed.]

So, first question: Do they make us kill each other here?

Second question: If not, then who do they make us kill, because you don't put electricity in people's stomachs unless you want them to do something horrible.

[He adds brightly.]

...that they probably excuse as some kind of unfortunate, sad necessity because the modern world is just so complicated after you blow it up, how could someone from prehistoric times possibly understand? Look how evolved they are, they've probably got penicillin and everything!

pathkin

FYI I've cut Setsuna's comm off. I got notice of suspicious activity that happened during a time she was out cold in the Infitmary. Seems like our unwelcome guest on the rig was smart enough to snatch at least one comm instead of wrecking them all.

That comm is now completely cut off from the network so it no longer has access.

We should maybe take this as a lesson for the future, given the possible access unwelcome parties can have. Everyone should keep an eye out and make sure everyone walks away with their comm from any altercation - or make sure the comm is now least busted parts. Because if they go missing, I can cut them off. We've apparently got crafty bad guys willing to make use of any comms they can snag.

Anyway, now that that's out of the way, you've all apparently got some planning to do to take out you know who.

Time to get crackin'.

tarnishedavenger

[Armstrong hates to do this after so many people have introduced themselves in locked channels, but they at least need to put on a show of meeting for Jorgmund's sake.]

So, we've got a few new people here since the last time we did something like this. Time to get introductions done and over with. Just list your name, powers, if any, relevant facts, and, if you feel like it, answer reasonable questions that people have. We'll be able to function together more effectively if we know more about each other. Keep it sensible and try not to wheedle out any dark secrets.

Or, you know, old people can tell people why Taco Tuesday is the best.

tarnishedavenger

[Yup. No teenagers allowed in this filter. Mac is only included after a very, very long and intense mental debate. The toys and the Easter Bunny, as odd as they are, are also in on it.]

So, I've been thinking. Jorgmund's doing a... job of getting everyone some sort of physical training, and there's some of us who don't mind getting a little bit of an extra hand. But we're going to be here for longer than I think any one of us anticipated.

One of the things Jorgmund isn't touching on, though, is education for anything that doesn't apply to missions. Some of these kids and, yes, some of the adults, have serious knowledge gaps.

This is going to be an unpopular idea for some of them, but I think they, and we, would benefit from setting up some sort of lesson plan, get some schooling going. Obviously not history or anything tied so closely to our worlds, but universal things like physics, math, computer skills, locksmithing, other things that could serve them later.

Any opinions? I should probably say that I'm not the most experienced when working with and educating young teens, my only experience is a few guest talks and 'field trips' with the kids at the Ravenswood Academy (I don't think Rowan's desire for secrecy there applies when there's no one from my world here) and Generation VIPER.

pasthole

[ Someone makes a post. It's deleted again too quickly to read, but it was definitely riddled with redactions courtesy of the network's filter (which seems to be working today.) A few minutes pass. It happens again, the post is longer and strangely grey, but it's similarly mangled and it's already gone. A third attempt is made, much the same, then... nothing.

Several more minutes tick by. Measured. Thoughtful. Ominous. Will the OP try one more time?

Then it appears: a monstrosity of grey capslock lurches onto the network and this one sticks. The poster's name is apparently Karkat Vantas, and his profile picture fails to yield a face, only a symbol. ]

A lot of unbelievable garbage has happened to me in the last twelve hours, but this? This is it. That anguished sound you hear is the cry of the long-suffering humpbeast that is my patience, its back brutally broken at last by the weight of this final desiccated plant stalk!

I am no stranger to completely stupid communication tools, but this one? This one is truly something special. I am in awe! Do you know how long it took me to get some semblance of control over my text? Do you? I assure you from the bottom of my inflamed bile sponge that you do not!

I was lulled into a sense of false security, naively believing this could not possibly get any worse. I went to post a message! Wow what a moron I must be to have ever supposed that would be easy! Gather round everyone, time to initiate the latest rube to join the idiot carnival! He thinks he can speak his mind without a snotty line of code ripping out his teeth one by one and shoving them right back down his ignorance shaft, what fun we shall have!

Thank you, Jorgmund! Thank you so much for this useless trash, and for this insult to injury! I am so glad that not only have I been kidnapped by aliens, but now I can't even make contact with my fellow captives without first assuming the most deferential posture of insipidity so as not to *dare* offend the grub-soft gander bulbs of an audience of *presumably* fully-moulted adults! I am ecstatic to know that this is the priority here when this entire world is apparently in shambles!

There's no need to take any time out of your jam packed schedules of huffing each other's nooks just to punish my earlier misgivings! My confidence is so inspired I could just choke myself right here and now!

(( OOC: Feel free to use or not use the network's filter as you please, its wild inconsistency can be convenient and a way to drive Karkat up a wall!
Warnings (mostly that Karkat is a loud jerk) and a link to opt out of his capslock nonsense are in his permissions. ))