TEST DRIVE #24

[powersthatbe]

Welcome to the Synodiporia Test Drive Meme! Below the cuts there are two new prompts, and here are the prompts from previous test-drives, which you’re still welcome to use in this post. When you comment, be sure you specify what prompt you want to play with, and please put up your own threadstarter—it makes for a much more friendly environment than a forest of bare toplevels! OCs are especially welcome! Please take a quick look at our Directory & familiarize yourself with the concept and setting of the game before you jump in.

Our upcoming app round runs April 21-28. Our next Jaunt will be Digital Frontier: Legacy Mode, a return visit to the Grid, where investigation of the secrets held by a new computer system will be investigated. The jaunt will be accompanied by the walkabout Northern Lights, where a ski resort in Finland is subject to some unusual happenings during the longest night of the year.

Prompt #62 is a Liminal Space that offers a chance to get clean, if you can work with its quirks.
Prompt #63 gives players a taste of the exploration setup used on the Grid previously.

#62

Liminal Space is a laundromat - the rows of washers and dryers stretch into the distance, occasionally punctuated by the doors to Travelers’ private created spaces. If you’ve been looking for a chance to wash your clothes, you can even do that; there are stacks of odd gold coins marked with five-pointed stars around, apparently of a perfect size to slot into the machines.

Of course, first you have to free a machine of its resident hamsters.

They’re not true animals - instead, they’re made of cloth. One might be flannel, another denim, and so on. They’re all running endlessly in the washer and dryers like they’re hamster wheels, and the detergent and fabric softener dispensers in the Liminal Laundromat look more like a drip-feed water bottle you’d leave upended in an actual hamster’s cage.

#63

(For a quick rundown of the Grid’s various factions, see here. Automata are not on this short list, since their functions changed significantly after the last jaunt and we haven’t formally sorted out how yet.)

It took quite a bit of scanning, but the Defenders in this system are now satisfied that the Programs visiting from the Grid to help with their data reclamation didn’t come bearing new and unusual strains of corruption. Their wariness isn’t uncalled for, given that Programs come in one of two colors, and the Grid’s visitors apparently have another three to come to grips with.

With the conclusion of the quarantine protocol, all Programs are now free to explore the area and see what they can find. The task goes faster in groups of Programs, and a fair amount of work is required before a sector is considered fully processed. You might find nothing, or you might find something - or you might find danger, in the form of corrupted data.

Comments

Laundry Day! (#62, if that wasn't clear)

[waitatick]

Of all the missions and battles he'd been a part of, Lotor was fairly certain this would rank in the top ten of his long life in terms of strangeness. Not that he could really be bothered about it at the moment, of course, and it would do no good to dwell regardless. His under-armor was more than a bit...lived in, and the opportunity to cleanse it shouldn't be overlooked. He'd disregarded such opportunities in the past, and the memories of the aftermath were rather less than pleasant.

But this was like no cleansing facility he'd ever encountered. And he'd encountered quite a few, on countless worlds and off-planet bases. For all his status as a prince and his father's rather overt classism, Lotor had learned very young how to care for himself, a large part of which meant keeping his armor and the underlayer of breathable, protective fabric underneath both clean and in good repair.

After a quick assessment of the machines in this facility and his determination that they were indeed some manner of cleansing apparatus, Lotor sighed. His armor did have hidden compartments in which a spare set of underthings were stored, but the prospect of simply donning them and reassembling his outer armor atop them was less than enticing. With the fabric layer it was perfectly fine, but without it, comfort was a bit of an impossibility. Then again, Galra armor had never been built for the comfort of its wearer, and he'd faced far worse.

Paying no mind to the doorways leading off to other areas (oh, he was curious, but his objective was clean underarmor, not exploration of random areas) he looked into several of the machines, the barest hint of a smile surfacing as he saw the creatures within. He'd never encountered such things in all his life, and found himself feeling almost giddy at his discovery.

"Forgive my intrusion," he said softly when he opened the door to a creature of what looked to be denim running merrily on the cleansing machine's interior, trying his best not to startle it overmuch, "but I am afraid I must ask your assistance. I am unfamiliar with the technology of your world and would be indebted if you might advise me of its proper use."

It never even occurred to him that his translation software wouldn't relay the message. If this were indeed some plot of the witch's, the least she could do would be to afford him clean undergarments.

I apologize for everything this nerd is.

[tookashirototheknee]

That is the bishiest Galra Matt has ever seen in his life. He was walking into the laundry room with a large basket of three different sizes' worth of clothing.

He only pauses for a moment before fully walking in, wearing galaxy print Converse, a t-shirt stating 'Pluto: proof that size does matter'. and some jeans. Glancing over at him, Matt raises an eyebrow. "They're not sentient. They're little creatures.... and they're made of fabric."

Never be sorry, Matt is a gift to us all, even the Bishiest Galra

[waitatick]

"Oh? I was under the impression that compositional makeup had no bearing on the ability or possibility for sentience, but the information is appreciated."

It wasn't outlandishly detectable, but Lotor was joking, his voice taking on a slight playful lilt. The Green Paladin's brother wasn't as familiar to him as most of the others, but he did admire the boy's steadfast fighting ability as well as his loyalty and intelligence.

But he was also immediately on his guard. While the two of them were nowhere close to being friends, they knew each other by sight, and here the boy was acting as if he had never beheld Lotor in all his life. It was concerning, and yet more evidence that this was some trick of Haggar's, but he forced himself to simply observe rather than demanding information.

I need to stop humming Doctor Horrible Laundry Day in my head.

[tookashirototheknee]

"Well, cloth hamsters might be sentient another place, but not either on my planet or here. They're... sapient, I guess you could say." Matt walks over, and opens one of the washers, holding out a hand, one of the hamsters cheerfully jumping into it.

He smiles, cheerfully, shooing the rest of the hamsters out of the washer, and starting to put the basketful of clothes in. So many different t-shirts.

[teamblue]

Honestly, Drake wouldn't trouble Lotor had he not been in front of a machine with a blue hamster in it.

Denim wasn't exactly the RIGHT shade of blue but it qualified well enough and he had nothing else to do in this godforsaken place, so as Lotor opens the door and addresses the hamster, he slows to a stop to watch and immediately begin assessing the likelihood of being able to acquire that particular cloth rodent.

This isn't the Junkyard so Lotor isn't automatically a demon, even if he looked a bit like one. So what was he?

More importantly, how does he find out without being overtly rude? Nothing in his Junkyard training or what he could recall of his previous life really helped with that one, though the fragmented memory of the latter suggested perhaps Lotor were an elf. A purple elf.

"I think they're just animals." When he does speak up, it's to the side and a bit behind, calculated to NOT be a good spot to ambush someone from - Lotor's also wearing some form of armor, and not of tribal make. Starting a fight on accident due to proximity would be silly. "Strange ones, but animals. I haven't seen any signs of intelligent behavior or communication at all. Are you going to do anything with that one?"

[waitatick]

"This one? Are you referring to the creature?"

He was a bit confused by the question, but shrugged it off after a moment.

"No, I am not. I cannot fathom what I could possibly gain from doing anything with it, as it does not seem sentient or willing to advise me on the use of these machines."

There was the barest ghost of a smile as he turned to look at whomever had approached. "You do not mean to harm it, do you?"

He might be a purple elf, but hurting defenseless animals, even if they were made of cloth, seemed a little cruel.

[teamblue]

"Yes. There's many, many more." And right now, this particular one has his interest. Perhaps they COULD speak and Lotor was the only one able to communicate with them, but it didn't seem as if the small cloth hamsters were reacting to him any more than they had to Drake.

But he looks pleased when informed Lotor has no real interest in it. +1 to the pending blue dryer! "No. The Colonel would have my head on a stick if I took to mangling little animals." That's thoroughly honest, and comes with a healthy dose of respect in his tone; whoever that Colonel is, he's probably not going to kill Drake and put his head on a pike but annoying or disappointing him is clearly as bad. "I'm collecting all the blue ones. That one's ... blue-ish."

Thus needs to be collected. "...But I think I remember how these machines work, if you want a quick run-down." Why not? It doesn't hurt to be friendly to a non-tribal stranger. The Brutes could always use more recruits...

[canbebrave]

With the powers of wardrobe manipulation at her fingertips, Sansa has no need for any of liminal space's absurd washing machines- relics she only knows from lost prior lives. Instead, she stays in liminal space to keep a watchful eye upon the other travelers, in an attempt to put an end to any shenanigans before they begin. With this lot, it's getting harder and harder every day.

She stays knelt by a wheel full of dazzling silk hamsters, in a spot where she can see much, and only steps away when she sees Lotor try and request help from the hamsters. It would be a cruelty, to allow this man to continue to speak with those that cannot understand- and a potential hazard, depending on his reaction once he realizes they will not do his bidding. So she crosses to him, head dipped somewhat passively, face polite but exceedingly neutral. Sansa is ever so wary of strangers.

"Pardon, but I can't help but notice... The creatures here do not respond to words, usually."

[waitatick]

"So I am gathering. I had hoped they might be sentient, but it does not appear so."

He noted her wariness with a bit of admiration. She moved comfortably here, as though she were used to her surroundings, but he was still a new addition to wherever this place happened to be and it was always best to be on guard.

From her posture and simply the way she carried herself, he had to wonder at her station in life. She walked like royalty, and he found himself bowing slightly.

"Do forgive me for bothering you."

Hamster Chaos.

[levelthreehooligan]

A small - What looks to be a small human child? Wait... no, her ears are pointed and her voice is far deeper than one might expect of a childs - starts laughing slightly behind him.

She herself wears a simple dress as the rest of her leathers and robes go through a spin cycle. Piñara's world didn't have washing machines, but she'd learnt about some of the common household appliances, and mostly just pressed the buttons she could reach until something happened.

She's covered in the small hamsters as she walks up to Lotor - a good couple of them nesting in her hair, the rest of them running around her ankles.

"I don't think they know much about these Washing devices, and Twelve be honest, neither do I, but I can at least try to help." She smiles, the man simply looks like a Duskwight Elezen to her, though the yellow of his eyes are odd.

She chitters at the Hamsters, coaxing them to come out so that Lotor can put his load in.

[waitatick]

Oh. He'd learned long ago not to mistake stature or the lack thereof for age, but her appearance was rather disconcerting nonetheless. Still, he'd been in enough such situations not to let it show too much. Her command and ease of communication with the creatures was rather impressive, and shouldn't be overlooked.

"No, it doesn't seem they do. They seem to enjoy your company, though."

He allowed himself a small smile, because honestly, it was rather endearing to see her covered in the things.

"Ah, you have my thanks. I didn't wish to harm them, and I'm unfamiliar with how best to handle them."

she's a walking lie detector just fyi ;)

[levelthreehooligan]

"It's because I am soft and warm!" She laughs, a veritable pile of hamsters snuggling up to her as she scoops them up in her arms. "And I don't take as much effort to climb up." She stage whispers to this man she doesn't know but has seen him smile at the creatures that nest on her.

It doesn't hurt that he was telling the truth about not wanting to harm them, the certainty of the statement settling into place in her Aether.

"You are more than welcome. I am Piñara, and you?"

[verdeleonessa]

That... definitely is a Galra. Though not really anyone Pidge's ever seen. Still, she seems to be more on guard now with his presence. She's learned not to be prejudiced during Traveling, but dealing with Galra was... special. It's too bad she hasn't met Lotor properly from where she is from.

"... I don't think you'll get any answers from that."

sorry, got a little carried away thinking of his reaction to the Paladudes thing xD)

[waitatick]

"No, likely not, but it seemed prudent to at least attempt a respectful tone."

He was joking, at least mostly, but she didn't seem to recognize him any more than her brother had, and it made his worry increase a thousandfold. But given that she in particular had always thought of him in a rather...unflattering light, he couldn't be entirely sure simply from her words alone. Still, if she did know who he was (if she was the same girl who had reprogrammed his sentry and sent him into the stars on a decommissioned Robeast coffin, a feat he still found himself laughing about, he wanted her as one of his highest ranked generals even if she would never leave her place as the Green Paladin. Oh, the foot soldiers he'd assigned to her, Hunk and Lance had shakingly told him everything after Voltron and Coran had returned to the castleship, probably fearing punishment, but he'd waved them away without a word, instead sitting in complete befuddlement and a bit of awe at what these children from a far distant system had accomplished. The Green Paladin could so easily have destroyed his entire brand new empire, and instead she'd chosen to orchestrate a sustenance fight and arrange for the Blue/Red Paladin - he had no idea what the color schematic was for these warriors, and it was vexing! - to have a chickenfight with his reprogrammed sentry instead. The sheer brilliance involved in that made him fear for the universe at large, really.) she was doing a fantastic job at hiding it.

"Would you happen to know the operational protocols for these?"

No sense not taking the chance, after all.

Drake | Digital Devil Saga OC (tw: may contain cannibalism mentions)

[teamblue]

--Option A--

Laundromats aren't very exciting.

Boring was good, really, after the last while in the Junkyard, but after a few hours of watching fabric critters run around inside washing machines and gingerly piecing together how the machines are supposed to work and what all this stuff was for specifically, Drake's thoroughly ready to do Something Else.

Which means he's begun knocking on doors.

Having a sunglasses-bedecked pink haired man in blue and grey body armor knock on one's door with an assault rifle slung over one shoulder generally isn't really a good thing, but he doesn't seem particularly hostile. Probably it's just the utter monotony of Liminal Laundry and not looking to actively cause problems. Right?

--Option B--

After testing some doorknobs and knocking on some doors, Drake's wandered back to the machines and their cloth rodent population. This was a good half hour ago.

Coming upon him now means finding one of those enormous industrial sized dryers normally reserved for king sized quilts and the like with an inordinate amount of blue cloth hamsters in it. Every single one, is some shade of blue. And he has another carefully cradled in his hand, working on opening the door and not letting any escape in the doing. Most are happy to keep running around and around and around, but some, like any enterprising hamster, are hellbent on going anywhere but where they should be.

On one hand he really is being careful, handling the things with all the gingerness one might use on a real small fragile rodent, but on the other there's a good thirty in there and he's got another one. Can cloth hamsters be overcrowded?

[Will match format; there's a tiny bit of info up on main page for appearance and a brief overview. Want to do something else? Let me know, wildcards are great!]

B

[vorenado]

Unlike the newcomer, Gale has learned to suppress the 'leak' of his powers in the time since he's been here. For more than one reason, many things have happened in the past two years, but it has the added benefit of letting him fly under the radar on occasion. Not causing a volatile reaction to another asura when they're in unfamiliar territory is helpful.

Gale is no longer dressed in his Junkyard armor, though his atma is still visible on his leg. He still dresses in shades of grey though, orange streaks across the shoulders of his shirt. Oddly enough, there's a white tattoo on his hand as well.

"Are you collecting them?" He asks curiously, deciding on attempting a casual approach rather than their traditional military. They are no longer in the Junkyard. The same rules no longer apply.

[teamblue]

With no active ill intent on the part of the Embryon bishop, would there be something for another demon to pick up on? It doesn't mask footsteps, but there's nothing in that sound to suggest to Drake an effort at stealth, so he continues to work on getting the little cloth creature into the dryer without hurting it. 'Hurting' it. Did it even have the ability to BE hurt?

"Sorting." The answer's prompt, even as he finally manages to get it in there, AND prevent any others from escaping, and close the door of the dryer with a satisfying click. "There's enough big machines." And when he's done with blue, then he's going to work on white, then yellow and on down the line because he had absolutely nothing better to do with his time.

Only once he's sure his rodent prize is secure does he bother to turn and actually address the person who spoke to him; nothing was setting off any instinctive alarm bells so the delay should be fine - except gray and orange. Grey, orange, and the black mark of another avatar tuner, but no armor, no attack when there could have been one. The only Embryon member he can recognize on sight is the silver haired leader, and this isn't it. He's rather good at maintaining control of his expression, none of his surprise and instant wariness shows visibly. The Embryon were always trouble.

But he also doesn't draw the rifle slung across his shoulders. This isn't the Junkyard, and the rules of Liminal weren't the rules he knew best. "... If you want the orange ones you better get there before I do." He's going to stuff all those ones in a dryer too given the opportunity. It's .. not quite a challenge.

[vorenado]

Gale takes in much just by looking. One doesn't need an array of various mental powers to be observant. The Brute soldier hasn't shown any outward aggression, In fact he's making an effort not to hurt the creature, regardless of the fact that it may not technically even be alive.

He doesn't have much interest in the creatures himself, outside of the fact that they are soft should he decide to touch or hold one. The Junkyard didn't have anything in the way of things that could be considered soft, or gentle for that matter. Physical contact was only made in relation to pain; hurting someone, being hurt, or trying to heal what's been hurt.

"What are you going to do with them once they are sorted?" As Bishop, it had always been his job to ask the hard questions of his leader, to be deliberately and often frustratingly contrary for the sake of discovering loopholes and flaws in a plan or line of thinking. While there are very few here that get the full brunt of this behavior, it still shows in how he tries to help people.

A

[finalizes]

This room doesn't have a door. Instead Drake stands in front of a large boulder that is split down the middle, opening up a tunnel big enough to let something the size of a cow pass through. A thin stream of water seems to appear out of nowhere in Liminal and runs into the tunnel, and if Drake follows it, he'll step out onto a rocky platform on the side of a small rocky mountain. The water pools here, forming a small mountain pond before it falls over the side of the rock and into another pool further down. A path leads into the valley below, and all around them...

There is wilderness.

Untouched, vaguely central European wilderness. In the distance some mountains that resemble the Pyrenees can be seen.

[teamblue]

This has never happened before. Doors lead to the outside, yes, but they always lead to buildings and cities or ruins, not ... unmachined, natural stone. Not little streams of water.

For a time, Drake stands in the doorway, glancing back briefly to the laundromat and its denim hamsters, then back to a sound and sight he hasn't seen in ... in ... It eludes him. Too long. Another life, perhaps. There is a long moment of indecision before he steps through, taking the time to close the door behind him. Had this been an obvious room, he would call out but this doesn't seem to be a room. It seems to be something else. Something that brings to mind campfires and songs late into the night.

There's no stealth in the Brutes officer's step, just the caution of being sure there's good footing as he leaves the tunnel and follows the water onto a platform that shows a view of green and blue and distant rising shapes of things that might be mountains.

Nothing like this exists in the Junkyard. These were ... trees, the word was trees. A jungle -- no. Forest. And 'Ponds' and 'streams'.

The assault rifle is unshouldered and set down on the bare stone in a clatter of metal, Drake settling by it after a moment in a graceless thump to watch the view in overwhelmed silence. He has no idea that these rooms in liminal belong to someone else, and that he is absolutely trespassing. But if he did know.. maybe he'd take the risk anyway, for this place.

"Holy shit."

Susan Sto Helit

[inthebone]

62

Susan - Duchess of Sto Helit and sixteen year-old-girl, currently dressed in the shapeless and unflattering nightgowns of the Quirm College for Young Ladies - stood amoung the rows and rows of...things. ‘Things’ was, she knew, an irritating vague term that did nothing at all to describe what was in front of her. But considering that, at the moment, despite all of Susan’s Education she didn’t have the foggest idea what they were...’Things’ was really the best term Susan had for them at present.

They were large, white boxes. They had circular windows in the front. Inside the windows, small creatures appeared to be spinning, for reasons and motives unknown. And all of it was very loud, the...things....shaking and making an awful lot of noise.

(She thought her Grandfather’s home hadn’t made any sense. But compared to this place, Death’s house was perfectly logical.)

Carefully, she inches towards one of the....things...and crouches down next to it, so that she can peer inside.

“Hello?” she says, tentatively, to the odd creatures running around in there. “Are you imps?” They didn’t look like any imps she’d even seen. But what else could they be? “What are you doing?”

[likescats]

Well Death recognizes that soul. Also the age...wait?

Either way, your grandfather is quick to locate you. Oh dear, this got quite a lot more complicated.

I DO NOT BELIEVE THEY ARE IMPS BUT THEY ARE CERTAINLY NOT FROM OUR WORLD.

Death meanwhile always looks the same so he might as well be from when you remember. ....and given the timeline thing he's technically from all of those at once but still, you try to focus on one moment. Either way, he looks the same as the last time you saw him.

HELLO, GRANDDAUGHTER.

[inthebone]

She stands, and turns to look at him.

Somehow, Susan's not surprised to find him here. Of course he's here. Wherever here is.

"Hello, Grandfather," she says. "If they're not from our world, where are they from?"

[runs]

A black kitten wanders over and sits down next to her.

"Whatever the Arcana that made this thought would be fun."

[inthebone]

"Oh, wonderful," Susan says, in a tone of voice that suggests the exact opposite of 'wonderful'. "Now there's talking cats?" Weren't talking ravens enough? Now she had to deal with talking cats too? "If you're going to talk, cat, you should at least make sense."

Because nothing in that sentence made any sense at all to Susan.