ximilian: (Default)
ximilia mods ([personal profile] ximilian) wrote in [community profile] ximilialog2023-06-01 06:40 pm

MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER

M I S S I O N   1 4 . 0

SOMEWHENPRESENT DAYFYI

// SOMEWHEN  


The hum of the teleportation platform is familiar, filling your ears as the bright light dissipates enough to safely open your eyes. You feel something solid beneath your feet, and the lack of scent from the asphalt and dirt in Nuhiri and Deumia marks a departure from anything resembling a planet, the space around you giving you no reason to think anything of it. You're on the Ximilia once again — finally. Another mission successfully accomplished, for whatever other hardships you and the rest of the team have endured. Hot food and hot showers await, and Newt will surely be scurrying off to prepare for the team’s usual post-mission movie night.

You’re back and you can’t wait for Viveca to greet you, and for Degar to take the orb away, back to the North Wing to join the other ones.

Except … the station’s walls appear to be peeling, and some of the equipment looks a little older and unpolished. There’s even a layer of space-dust on one of the control boards. And most importantly: no one is here to greet you. As you turn and look to your fellow crewmates in confusion, even now some of you might start to wonder at the change of routine. Ivy, who had just been handling the orb, will be empty-handed, but surely there’s nothing to worry about. The station is peaceful and still. Nothing feels amiss … yet. And then:

// 0-L1V-14
Oh, hello. You are not the team I know. Yet you are here for the orb … Good.

The sound of 0-L1V-14 — or 'Olivia' as many have come to call her — voice springs to life around you. She almost seems to sound confused for a moment, clearly recalibrating her systems for this strange occurrence, before the gentle tenor of her voice regains its composure and she recalls her mission directive. The lights in the teleportation platform seem to glow just a little brighter, as though the arrival of the crew has buoyed the AI's spirits.

// 0-L1V-14
I've located one within the station, but it seems to have fractured. The air around them appears to have some sort of temporal disturbance that I can't quite pin down. Be cautious, but bring them to me before anything happens.

Well? You heard the AI. Best to start looking.


1.0   The first thing you might think to do is return to the sleeping quarters, either to clean up and change into another set of clothes; or to take a much-deserved nap; or maybe you just need a moment to yourself to collect your thoughts. The doors to the sleeping quarters seem to stick for a moment, which isn’t worrying in and of itself, but as the doors slide open you realize that you’re looking into a dark and empty carved out space that resembles a place for storage more than anything else. The walls and doors that used to make up your individual rooms are absent, and the floors are stripped bare, with rows of perforated grates allowing the cavernous space to remain relatively well-ventilated. It’s clear that no one has visited this room in quite some time, and perhaps there had once been plans for it, now abandoned to hold a stock of random items in its place.

There are boxes stacked against the wall, and a shelving unit that holds miscellaneous supplies: cans and boxes, batteries and wires, old bound notebooks made of paper. Rolls of rough tarp are haphazardly leaning against the wall to one corner, and thermal blankets are scattered amongst scraps of loose-leaf, a sketch of a cluster of spherical shapes in different colours, and other foreign knick-knacks that seem to have no place on a space station. If you decide to explore this space you’ll have to provide your own source of light as none of the lighting above seem to work though the row of fixtures that you’re used to seem, at least, to have been installed. They’re just not currently online.

Investigating the room a little deeper might draw you to a simple metal box sitting in the middle shelf next to what looks like a half-broken lute, its strings missing. There is no lock on this box, as though it wants to be opened, and lifting the lid will reveal a bright rosy-coloured light. Reaching out towards the small sliver of light in the shape of an elongated teardrop will recall a memory of your childhood so vivid, you’ll think you were back in that time, in that exact moment, to relive it again. Whether it's a good memory or a tragic one is left up to random chance. Only someone entering the room to talk you through your memory will remind you that you aren’t actually a child any longer.


2.0   Perhaps you decide to forgo the sleeping quarters entirely, and want to revisit one of your favourite simulations in the simulation room. Familiar oceans, the futuristic bar, or the room filled with adorable puppies might be your first choice — but every preset you’re used to scrolling through seems to be different now. There are the standard, familiar pre-mission training simulations, and even the Lodgen Mountain Mines mission appears to be here, but everything else has either been deleted … or it was never here to begin with.

You might decide to go ahead with one of the already existing simulations anyway, or you might want to start rewriting the one you’d come here for in the first place. It will depend on your luck, and it will depend on the success of your mission-training, but a small shard of bright, silvery coloured light may suddenly reveal itself to you. It appears like a thin tear-shape that hangs suspended in the air. The faintest whisper beckons you close; it’s familiar. Will you reach out to touch it? Doing so will colour the simulation room around you with a memory so real it might as well be — suddenly you might recall a happy moment in your life, or perhaps your greatest victory or adventure. This can be shared with whoever enters the simulation room with you or after you, and will fade when you manage to locate the right door and leave the room.


3.0   The sunlight room that you may have walked through on countless occasions is missing the familiar bridge, the river that runs beneath it, and trees that surround it. Instead, the vegetation around you appears to be far more deliberate and practical, thick foliage like bushes planted in rows, their large leaves covering most of the ground and soil. Several small metal boxes with wires and buttons can be found planted across the space, each with a thin rotating disc that whirs and spins quietly. Each of these boxes appears to give off readings, each screen displaying a continuous green wavy line scrolling across it and text that displays the quality of the air with a percentile grade, the amount of it being produced, and that particular box’s designation zone: Mess Hall, Storage, Living Quarters, and Teleportation Platform among others. This isn’t just a room that simulates nature, but if you were to approach any of the small bushes and saplings here, it’s clear that the plants here are real and they’re currently working to provide the rest of the station with oxygen.

Further to the back of the sunlight room, a bright sliver of colourful green light seems to glitter and glint between the leaves. It feels familiar in the way that it whispers faintly, and if you concentrate you can make out the sound of your name in a voice like that of someone from your past: a friend, perhaps, or a family member. Maybe a loved one or an enemy. Or perhaps it’s a voice you can’t actually recognize. It might compel you to reach out for the light, but will you listen? Or will you turn away?

If you embrace the light and call out in answer to the voice, you will re-experience the action, the conversation, or the thought that you attribute as being the reason you are who you are today with that most important person being the key piece in your memory.


4.0   Looking for your usual snacks? Feeling peckish for that bowl of instant spicy space-ramen you saved for post-mission? You might head into the kitchen expecting the familiar foodstuffs that you’re used to only to find that the room has been rearranged, with far fewer cupboards and appliances, and more of what looks like typical space-fare: freeze-fried items and nutrition-focused meals sealed into silver foiled bags. What ‘fresh’ ingredients exist are even less, and there are a stack of dirty plates and cutlery in the sink that don’t look like anything you or your crewmates might have used. You may already suspect that this whole station isn’t the one you’re used to, or you might still be in denial. Either way, you may find through your rummaging the call to a little sliver of coppery-coloured light located behind the freezer door.

If you decide to touch the fragment of light here, you’ll feel a ghostly burning as though the glint of the light has cut your skin, almost cold enough to feel sharp — but it’s just your imagination, isn’t it? What you remember now as it comes back to life around you (and the team member or members who may have joined you) is the best meal you’ve ever eaten, whether it is something you made for yourself, something made by your loved one, or the meal that leaves your heart feeling empty and aching.


5.0   You may have become so accustomed to seeing the North Wing doors sealed that it’s your curiosity that draws you forward to the wide expanse beyond the now open wing, your feet testing the threshold as if you’re expecting an invisible wall to keep you out. Nothing happens when you step into the North Wing, though you might immediately notice the large tank that holds all of the team’s successfully captured orbs is very clearly missing. And not only that but the space appears to be well lived in, a small cluster of worn chairs and a table set to one side, and data pads and drawings on white-boards in plain view. They don’t seem to be much more than a couple of crude strategy diagrams (and a couple of silly stick figures in one corner) and as you move towards the crew quarters, some of you might instantly recognize the familiar room with its rows of beds and a scattering of personal effects assigned to each bunk. Photos are pinned to walls of a twenty-person crew, pillows and blankets are left in disarray by unfinished knitting projects, a diary written in a language you can’t quite translate, and a stuffed elephant-shaped plush doll lies at the head of one of the beds in the middle of the room. By the door is a neatly made bed. An analogue paperback novel sits on the nightstand, a bookmark set in the middle to note its progress. On top of it is a well-kept watch stopped a little after the sixth hour and a medal of service in the now recognizable insignia of the Ndiera Complex’s Federation.

By the far wall of these sleeping quarters is a bright golden starlight that seems to illuminate that side of the room as though someone had turned on a torchlight to the highest setting; it’s almost blinding. Moving closer to it, you’ll find that it’s like all the other slivers of light scattered across the station — a broken shard, like a piece of a large puzzle. Touching it may pull you — and whoever might be in the room with you — into a memory from your time with the Ximilia crew, whether it happened over a year ago, or it happened only on the last mission. It might be a happy memory, or it might be something you regret, which is poignant considering your initial raison d’etre for being here at all. It’s a vision that appears from your perspective and while you relive it, you feel outside of yourself.


6.0   The rest of the station still appears to be intact, with the infirmary, the training room, and the armoury in the same locations that you remember. Those of you who have been here for quite some time, you’ll find your way around by muscle memory alone; but even if you’re a newer member of the crew you’ll have wandered the halls enough to know what feels familiar to you … and what doesn’t.

The infirmary looks to be a little out of date, though it looks as if it’s seen its fair share of use. And it’s smaller too, the more recent addition and surgical area missing from the cozy space. The training room and the armoury share similar qualities of seeming a little older, a little more lived in, and with well-used equipment and weapons to boot. The training room is still padded with firm padded flooring and benches for sitting. Some of the racks and hooks (all empty) that had been against the wall have fallen now, and similar to the teleportation room, you’ll find that some of the paneling in this room has since peeled away, revealing some of the bare structure behind them. In the armoury, you won’t find your favourite knife or preferred staff but there are still a few choices in weaponry to arm yourself with.

Wherever you decide to explore, you might once more happen upon a bright bluish light that seems to whisper and call to you in soft, hushed tones. No specific words can be picked out through the murmurs but the feeling is all the same — it draws you forward like a moth to flame, but whether you decide to reach a hand out to touch the sliver of light that hangs suspended in the air is entirely your choice. If you do, you might succumb to a vivid memory of a significant injury you or someone important to you had suffered once, reliving that moment with too sharp clarity. Those feelings of fear or threat or maybe even satisfaction seem to come to you again as though you were there again — only this time you may not be alone as you witness this memory, and someone else has entered the room with you.

Present Day.

The teleportation platform hums quietly in a clean, well-maintained room. No walls or floors appear to be even the least bit dented, and now the Commander of the Ximilia stands behind the control board, staring at the screen as though doing so will bring their crew back by some wild form of magic. Degar knows magic — he’d come from a world so full of it. This, however, is something different.

Beside him, Viveca scans through the data that had sent the crew into the Ndiera Complex, as it should have brought them back the same way, with the orb in tow.

// VIVECA
“I don’t know how it happened… they should have arrived here. Everything seemed normal! But I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

// DEGAR
“They could be anywhere, right? Except we can’t even help them if we don’t know where that might be.”

// VIVECA
“I know. The strange thing is that it seems that we’ve located another orb… only, it states that it’s here. On the station. So even if the platform sent them straight to it… why aren’t they here?”

The Commander and the AI both turn their gaze towards the still empty teleportation platform before exchanging worried glances with each other. Degar finally heaves an exhale but the frown in his features deepens.

// DEGAR
“Keep working at it. I’m going to see what I can figure out in the station’s systems. Maybe we can trace back to the team somewhere. Or somewhen.”

Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.

// VIVECA
“Yeah. We’ll find them.”

TOP


F Y I

The events in this log take place during the first two weeks of June.

For this mission, we have decided to run the search request mechanic a little differently. Depending on whether your character decides to touch or grasp one or any of the slivers of coloured light that can be found throughout the station, you will have the opportunity to participate in a search request. More on this is explained HERE.

If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.

Any in-character questions to 0-L1V-14 can be asked HERE.

And finally, your soundtrack for this log:

TOP


NAV

deaddrop: (artema nephilit)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-05 04:49 am (UTC)(link)
Andy...

[The memory is short, but intense. Natasha knows a fatal wound when she sees one, and what it's like to have someone you care for die in front of you.

She also knows Andy and those like her shouldn't succumb to those. It's the entire deal, isn't it? Andy and Joe recovered from the worst injuries. She's seen it.

Except, apparently when they didn't.]


Can I ask who that was?
coordination: (WHAT IN TARNATION IS TWITTER)

[personal profile] coordination 2023-06-05 04:50 am (UTC)(link)
[ The light from the center of the training room quickly grows and seems to burst, engulfing the entire room around them - and for a moment it may seem as though it was so powerful it's blinded Felix. But as his eyes readjust he'll quickly notice that he's—

—sitting in the cockpit of some kind of machine, hands gripping the controls in front of you, and in the reflection of the screens around you, you can see a (somewhat; Yzak is always out and about enough on the station) familiar face staring back. Silver hair and striking blue eyes peering out from the helmet of a white flight suit. The Earth and its moon can be seen easily from where you are - but your priority is always, always the cluster of hourglass-shaped space colonies (well over 100 of them) in the distance (your home. The home of your people known as PLANT).

You're leading your team (all of them on the radar of your screen - piloting humanoid, bipedal giant robots just like the one you're in) out to investigate three huge, ringed structures - pieces of a long-abandoned space colony - that have started to slowly move just outside of your home's defensive sphere. An odd and very random occurrence, and being in the middle of a war it's much better to be safe than sorry.

"Damn... as reported, there are quite a few of them." you mutter over the communication system. And Dearka, your XO, your best friend, your right hand man who you trust with your team as much as yourself, replies, "Yeah. But why the hell are they here?"

That's the big question. They're not within a distance where they can attack PLANT, but these odd structures are being accompanied by a fleet of the Earth Alliance. So clearly something is going on here. Every alarm bell is going off in your head, and as the one tasked with this investigation, your actions now all fall on you as the commander.

"Who knows? But these definitely aren't friendly envoys --So let's move!"

Your team speeds up and boosts through space toward the nearest cylindrical colony, and the fleet moving along with it immediately shifts into battle mode once they detect your approach. They clearly intend to meet you head on to keep you away from the structure like it's the most important thing in the universe. But why...? Why would a piece of an abandoned colony this far out be so important to them?

Only one way to find out.

A SPACE BATTLE commences, and there are more than stars serving as points of light; explosions and flashes from the firing of weapons such as beam cannons and beam sabers and occasional explosion from a hit target illuminate the screens all around you. You bark out orders to your team that are followed quickly and seamlessly. You yourself move your machine through the chaos alongside them. You and your team are pretty cool, basically; they clearly have full trust in you and in turn you know they won't let you down either.

Confusion blooms larger inside of you when the huge ringed object slows, stops, cutting the engines that have been attached to its outside. A couple of small boosters on it activate to tilt it in an extremely meticulous way, and something in your gut tells you to move faster. Something is wrong and something is happening and you don't know what and your mind is racing trying to find the answer so you can cut whatever this is off.

"What? What are they trying to do?" Dearka asks, puzzled. And your reply is quick and sharp: "I don't know, but we've got to stop this thing! Go around to the engines!"

Not knowing what the enemy's intentions are here is pushing your anxiety and frustration to the brink, the growing ominousness of the situation nearly crushing. You and your team don't relent, but there are so many engines and the colony is so huge...

The Earth fleet suddenly disengages and disperses like a school of fish sensing danger.

A retreat...?

No, this is—!

"All troops, evade!"
you scream as loudly as you can to your team. In that very moment you hear Dearka desperately call out your name, and an enormous, bright light can be seen shooting from the opposite side of the Earth's moon. The deadly beam's light passes through one of those three rounded colonies ... and curves, somehow, some sort of reflector or gaseous substance released inside serving to make it possible because it shouldn't be possible. It passes through a second, curves again, and then comes straight toward you at the last one. You and your team manage to get out of the way as the light moves through the final cylinder and bends once more, the trajectory of it now...

heading directly toward PLANT. And all you can do is watch, horrified and wide-eyed and gaping and helpless as a nightmare unfolds in front of you. The light of the weapon is so bright it burns your eyes yet you can't, you won't tear them away or close them, as you watch it cut clean through four PLANTs as if they're made of paper. A couple of the hourglass colonies hit swing downward and off to the side as they're destroyed, slamming into two more next to them and taking them out too.

Millions of lives. In the blink of an eye, everything that lived on those man-made lands, old and young, mothers and children, were sucked into a vacuum of darkness and died before they realized what had happened.

"Januarius ... and December..." Dearka's voice, trembling and likewise in disbelief reads aloud the incoming information on the damage just done - listing the specific clusters of them that were hit. You slam your fist as hard as you can on the armrest of your cockpit's seat, cursing. You were right there and the only ones who could have stopped this and you didn't and you might have been able to if you'd had only a few more moments. You failed them - and now nearly two million of your own are dead.

"From the other side of the moon..?" Dearka's voice sounds muffled in your ears against the sudden rush of overwhelming mix of grief and anger that washes over you like a wave, threatening to drown you in it.

And then suddenly it's gone, and everything else in your mind is pushed to the side: the doubt that'd started to grow inside of you as the war worsened, matters of impersonators of leaders of your people. None of it matters in this moment, not in the face of this, and every bit of doubt and hesitation that might bubble up in a moment like this are completely blown away. You don't care what's true or false, or right or wrong. The only thing you do know in this moment are that those things are still there. And they're intact. And at any moment another light could come shooting from the moon to finish you all off.

"Dearka! We're taking this thing down!" This is why you're still here, after all. To protect your people, to do whatever needs to be done to save them. It's all you can do now and all you should do. And while the real grief of the whole situation wont hit you until later, you'll shoulder it when it comes because you have to and if anybody has to it should be you anyway because your hands are already bloodied with sin and regret. And right now you have to stop this from getting worse—

"If it fires again, it's all over for PLANT! We're going to do whatever it takes to bring it down!" No wavering in your voice as you already begin moving your machine to speed toward the ringed colony. You hear the collective affirmation of your team, as if your order likewise stirs them from their shock and they follow you with the same desperate determination you currently feel as your heart hammers against your chest and you throw yourself back into the chaos.

But the scene around you slowly begins to warp back into the familiar image of the training room. ]
shishkabob: (is nothing left to take; this)

[personal profile] shishkabob 2023-06-05 05:09 am (UTC)(link)
[Dante nudges Dreykov’s body slightly out of the way with his foot, the only real acknowledgment he makes to the man’s presence in the memory. If Natasha’s ignoring him, then so will Dante.]

Wow, that must suck. Any way you can get that fixed so you can start tasting things again? I mean, if I stopped being able to taste pizza I’d be devastated. Dunno how you’re managing it.

[Well, better than Dante himself would in her position, obviously. But then it’d just heal back for him.

It might be a little obvious he’s no expert.]


Is there anything you can still taste? Like—spiciness?
dispassioned: (pic#16255366)

[personal profile] dispassioned 2023-06-05 05:40 am (UTC)(link)
[The memory blooms to life in the training room as Chishiya makes contact with the glimmering blue light. Daisy will witness the whole thing even as Chishiya relives it.

When it fades, he’s left dazed, braced against the wall as he tries to reorient himself in the present. The experience was vivid enough that he half expecting to find himself bleeding again. He lifts his left hand to rub idly at the right side of his chest and glances sidelong at Daisy.]


I guess you saw that.
deaddrop: (pic#15038433)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-05 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
[It's disorienting shaking off the memory of being sedated. For a few seconds, her body doesn't want to believe she's not about to drift off, and it wants to fight, her heart racing and her adrenaline spiking.

There's no drugs in her system though.

She rubs her face, first her eyes then her mouth, shaking her head slightly. She's not sure what to say.]


It's all right.
deaddrop: (acantharachne psyche)

[personal profile] deaddrop 2023-06-05 05:54 am (UTC)(link)
If you make one, I'll wear it.

[That seems like a fair thing to say, though she's not entirely sure that works as a trade.]

Though we'll have to be somewhere with flowers again for that to work.
rehandle: (pic#12484742)

[personal profile] rehandle 2023-06-05 07:40 am (UTC)(link)
Of course

[ It's both very sarcastic and very much not and the intricasies are lost in the text and that's fine. Better, since he didn't mean to send it at all. ]

I need feedback from the others before signing off on anything permanent, but this file is not safe for consumption. Is there anything you can do to temporarily prevent further external access? Make it so we can only go through you for information on the contents?
Edited (too early... for precision... ) 2023-06-05 07:45 (UTC)
rootlessly: (pic#16293582)

vash the stampede / open and closed prompts

[personal profile] rootlessly 2023-06-05 08:48 am (UTC)(link)
[Hit me up at [plurk.com profile] goodluckmodes if you'd like a custom starter or to plot out any specific memories!]
Edited 2023-06-05 08:48 (UTC)
karumic: (pic#15816735)

[personal profile] karumic 2023-06-05 11:17 am (UTC)(link)
[It's nighttime, the air thick and hot with the last gasps of summer; the sound of cicadas rasping is nearly deafening, even at this hour. Kazuma sits at the side entrance of the Mikotoba household in Tokyo, looking out into the courtyard, a drawn and tense expression on his face. The sound of the sliding door heralds an arrival, and soon Yujin Mikotoba emerges, holding a ceramic carafe and two small cups. Kazuma looks up at him silently, a question in his eyes.

Yujin only smiles and holds up his offerings. "It seems to me a celebration is in order." Kazuma frowns.]


I've only just taken the bar exam. There's no guarantee I'll pass.

[Yujin smiles and takes a seat next to Kazuma, the ends of his yukata skimming the grass. "Pass or fail, it's an accomplishment just to qualify at your age, Kazuma-kun."

Kazuma says nothing and looks back out into the evening. Yujin takes the opportunity to pour out two glasses and pass one along. Kazuma takes it wordlessly and doesn't drink. Quietly, Yujin sighs.

"No matter the results, I know your father would be proud of you." The expression on his face says further: I am proud of you, but Kazuma isn't looking at him. He's looking into his undrunk cup of sake, expression tight and dour.]


...Thank you, sir. [Unspoken is a sentiment they both understand: it will never make up for having him here.]
karumic: (pic#15816754)

👈👈

[personal profile] karumic 2023-06-05 11:38 am (UTC)(link)
[In the middle of a modest yard stand a man and a boy. The man is tall, with wise, calm eyes and dark hair pulled out of his face. The boy is all of seven, with a serious face and a familiarly terrible haircut. At his side he holds a long stick like a sheathed sword and falls into a ready stance.

Then he steps forward, drawing the stick like it's a katana, brandishing it directly in front of him. It goes wide, wobbling with all the precision and strength of a small child who has never done this before, but Genshin beams indulgently anyway, clapping his son on the shoulder.

"Yes, just like that, Kazuma-kun! We'll make a warrior out of you yet." Kazuma straightens up with fierce dignity befitting a disciplined samurai, but he can't quite contain his overly-serious, little-boy pride. It's then that his gaze snaps to the dog, which he hadn't noticed before. His eyes go wide and he takes a step back.]


Chichi-ue. [He's seen dogs before, of course, but no dogs he's seen in Japan have ever looked quite like this one, and he's unsure how to react. Genshin just laughs.

"It's only a dog, Kazuma-kun. Be brave."]
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 12:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A most curious thing happens as Olivia speaks — her fractured voice seems to splinter even further, some sounding quite close, while others sound distant. ]

Yes. Of course. It is my program that contains them.

It is all standard protocol to investigate members of the team.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 01:00 pm (UTC)(link)
Yes, of course.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 01:02 pm (UTC)(link)
I can require prior authorization before access.
rehandle: (293)

[personal profile] rehandle 2023-06-05 01:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Please. Let's action that.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 01:11 pm (UTC)(link)
[ If an AI can sigh, now would perhaps be a good time for one to do it. ]

Ximilia shares its name with the Creator's home district. I cannot speak to his intention, but the connection exists nonetheless.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)
Understood. Protocol executed.
blackfire: (pic#15365300)

green light c:

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-05 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)
u know why 🙃🙃🙃
doooooog: (h)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 01:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She deserves a medal, honestly. ]

Now we’re getting somewhere, Liv! [ Jake’s tail begins to wag. ] Can you tell me more about this creator person? I don’t know him either, but he sounds like kind of a big deal.
Edited 2023-06-05 13:16 (UTC)
rehandle: (101)

[personal profile] rehandle 2023-06-05 01:19 pm (UTC)(link)
Thank you. To confirm, who currently has authorization?

[ And, because there's a stubborn splinter of uncomfortable suspicion in him - ]

And could you send me a sample of 3 previous mission files from your archive?

[ These he will absolutely Not be opening if she sends them, but he needs to check a theory. Better safe than sorry. ]
blackfire: (pic#15365297)

itachi uchiha | naruto

[personal profile] blackfire 2023-06-05 01:39 pm (UTC)(link)
closed top-levels below.
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 01:52 pm (UTC)(link)
What do you wish to know?
doooooog: (ccc)

[personal profile] doooooog 2023-06-05 01:54 pm (UTC)(link)
I guess we can start with what he created, but I’m a big fun facts fan. You know, favorite foods, first heartbreak.

How much do you know about him?
faithfulskeptic: (084)

Dana Scully | The X-Files

[personal profile] faithfulskeptic 2023-06-05 01:55 pm (UTC)(link)
[ open and closed toplevels below; [plurk.com profile] errantpastor for plotting/requests/whatev! ]
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 02:10 pm (UTC)(link)
No one. No parameters were set.

[ A second later, Stephen will hear three consecutive pings in his ear:

C̵͍̲͆́͐̆̚Ọ̶̧̠̘̫͂̌̀͐R̸̘͎͘O̴͚̻͈͙̍̿͐͌̚T̷̢̠͍̒̈̉H̵̛͍̫͕͍̾A̶̧͎̅͑̇͑̕͝W̴͇̤͝N̵̨̿ ̷̲̬͔̫̔̈́̉M̴̠̈̈́I̶͙͉̙̳̣̒̐́̌̓͘͜Ş̶͕̝̳̺̆̅S̷̡̙̑̉̋̉̓̈Ï̶̧̛̞͈̞͕̟̐͆̿͌O̶̡̹̩͕̅̉́͠Ṋ̶̟͗͊͝
̶̜͕̤͈̅̊T̶͍̊S̴͕̹̍̈́̽̓̚Ů̵̲̙͉̙̹́̽J̵̞͗Í̸̦̙̼̮̊́͊͠͝W̸͍͍̣̬͖̪̄̄͝Ę̴̥̝̻͐̾ ̶̟̬̳̏͠K̶̗̣̓̏̀́Ȉ̶̧͉̥̯͈̍͜N̴̢͊U̶̲͉͋ ̷̘͊͑͠M̶̞̥̙̪̀̌̉̒Ȋ̵͇̦̰̳̟̿̅́͂͘S̶̢̨̩͓̲̈́̎̏̆̅̈́͜S̸͎̀̅I̸̧̫̳̪̕Ơ̶̤̰̠͆͜N̷̩͑̋
̴͇͙̠̪̅̏́V̸̥͕̘͎͕̌̏̓̚-̵̺̬̗̭̄͒̈̋̈́4̸̢̲͍̲̙̅̂̎͑̐͜5̴̬̚Ģ̵̬̖͒̔̃̿̄ ̶̶̧̧̿̿M̴̯͑̈́̈́Į̵͙͉͉͈͖̇̉S̷̨̰̰͐͊̎̀̃͜S̶̛̺̀̓̕I̸͉̮͛̈́̈́̈̉̆O̶͎̮̝͛̓̈́̎̕N̶̹͂̋̈͜
]
Edited 2023-06-05 14:10 (UTC)
ximilianpc: (0-L1V-14)

[personal profile] ximilianpc 2023-06-05 02:12 pm (UTC)(link)
I know only what he has shared, which is not extensive.

He created me. This station. The orb.