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come_sailaway2022-08-12 01:46 am
sailmods) wrote in come_sailaway2022-08-12 01:46 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: ekko,
- arcane: jinx,
- changeling the lost: giles,
- changeling the lost: oswald wuthridge,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- far cry 5: deputy pratt,
- far cry new dawn: sharky boshaw,
- fe3h: dimitri alexandre blaiddyd,
- groundhog day musical: phil connors,
- interview with the vampire: claudia,
- lavender jack: honoria crabb,
- lavender jack: johnny summer,
- mcu: ava starr,
- mcu: marc spector,
- mcu: steven grant,
- original: aiden copeland,
- original: lucas kovach,
- original: ylva wolfsdottir,
- overwatch: bastion e54,
- overwatch: maximilien,
- prodigal son: malcolm bright,
- rwby: ruby rose,
- sherlock holmes: john watson,
- skulduggery pleasant: skulduggery,
- tales of the abyss: jade curtiss,
- tales of vesperia: rita mordio,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the locked tomb: palamedes sextus,
- the umbrella academy: klaus hargreeves,
- westworld: maeve millay
AUGUST EVENT: DRAGSTRIP RIOT
[it begins with a PA announcement on the morning of the 12th, Friday’s voice coming through clear and cheerful.]
Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!
[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.
they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!
the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.
outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.
past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.
should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]
Any passengers that wish to debark to our latest port of call can exit the ship through the metal detectors on deck zero! Please be advised that all alcohol will be confiscated prior to your exit!
[and whoever heads down to the lowest deck will find that what she said was true: there is a metal detector set up there, with Friday manning it. after placing all metal objects (including weapons, and all your weapons) onto the tray, she gestures for the passenger to step through the metal detector.
they exit in an entirely different location. suffering from a splitting headache, and wearing an entirely different outfit than they had put on this morning, but unscathed. they even got their weapons back!
the interior of the diner is essentially your average jonathan rockets establishment. the narrow lane between booths and counter is manned by an entirely mute Friday clone, who cheerily takes orders and serves up food (cooked??? somewhere???) with an almost unnatural talent for roller blading. there is a jukebox in the corner that can be fed with quarters passengers will inexplicably find on their person. the available songs range from the 50s to the 80s, with a particularly wide selection of songs from the platters.
outside, the diner is a great chrome boxcar, circled by a small parking lot. a large neon sign proclaims it to be GIL’S; it buzzes and flickers on and off often. passengers who have regained vehicles will find these vehicles parked outside. there are also a handful of midcentury American cars; none of them seem to require keys, and the gas tank seems set at full.
past the parking lot is a seemingly endless expanse of desert sand and scrubland, bisecting by the empty highway that the diner abuts. a few miles down this highway, the road forks into a smaller one, which winds its way up a steep, ragged mountain until plateauing into another parking lot, with only a small, old wooden fence between the cars and the edge of the cliff.
should they wish to return to the ship, passengers can leave at any time the same way they entered: walking through a doorway that now claims to be a mop closet. passing through will leave them on deck zero, again with a splitting headache. it’s probably fine.]
2
They wave, and boop a greeting. Max gets to see their cool(?) new humanoid-style outfit, although they've at least ditched the extremely pointless gun-glove. // How are you not overheating?
no subject
The way Bastion walks sure makes that dress accentuate his legs.
"Though yes, it's probably not good long term for my finish to be out in the sun at this temperature." Also if he wasn't wearing this suit he'd definitely be blinding people with the gold plated joints.
no subject
// Your cooling system must be better than mine. Their manufacturer did not project that enduring 40°C-plus temperatures continuously for several hours would be necessary to conquer Europe.
no subject
"I was hardly going to keep the stock parts if the opportunity arose to change them."
no subject
// I don't have access to a technician I trust to install more than peripheral upgrades. They sound wistful, and slightly envious.
no subject
"There aren't many that are qualified in any event, and certainly none here. There are some that could handle repairs, but you do seem to have that covered for yourself." No he's not jealous of that.
He absolutely is."I'm not sure that gold plating you would be in your best interest anyway, it may melt when you fire your guns depending on heat distribution. Though you would look quite nice extremely shiny and polished."
no subject
// They can be the backup plan in case I'm unconscious or my self-repair system is broken. It's always good to have a Plan B.
// I'd be highly conspicuous, they say dubiously, as if they aren't already from sheer size regardless of how spangly and reflective they are.
no subject
"César or Ekko should be your primary contact for such things. I'm told that Jinx can handle some amount of mechanical repairs but she's also insane so try not to let her touch anything vital. And, do let me know if she attempts anything, hm?"
Because he has some quality blackmail on her and wouldn't mind starting a fight.
no subject
That doesn't mean they're going to jump at the chance to get polished, but he's right, the tactical advantage they were worried that they'd lose isn't one they really had in the first place.
Letting someone who was previously described to them as 'loud and destructive' tamper with their systems is not something they would consider a good idea, no. // I'll try to acquaint myself with César and Ekko. What's Jinx likely to attempt?
no subject
He looks at Bastion, trying to imagine what Jinx would try and do to him, but it's not very successful because he's not crazy and also has zero imagination in the first place. "I'm not sure, but probably something ridiculous like turn your legs into rocket launchers."
no subject
They mean both of those ideas, but especially the rocket launcher legs. Bastion's brain is a newer model; they have just enough imagination to iterate upon the latter suggestion and come up with multiple ways for it to be a disaster for themself and everyone around them, starting with falling on their face or having their tank treads fall apart when they try to switch into that configuration, and continuing on to setting off an explosion every time they take a step and, depending on the structural integrity of the ship, either propelling themself ballistically through the decks until they punch a hole in the bottom or blasting themself to bits in the confined space of a hallway. No thanks!
// I think my self-repair function could fix that but I'd rather not have to, they say after a pause long enough that even a human would probably have noticed it, much less another omnic.
no subject
His logic here is flawless.
"At least these sorts of excursions are suitably distracting - meaning no one should be attempting anything on their fellow passengers. Usually."