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ximilialog2023-06-01 06:40 pm
- ! event log,
- adventure time: finn mertens,
- adventure time: jake the dog,
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- lockwood & co: anthony lockwood,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- red vs blue: felix,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- star trek aos: leonard mccoy,
- the old guard: andromache,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: THE AI AND THE COMMANDER
● ● ● M I S S I O N 1 4 . 0
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:
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.
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.
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.
Viveca nods, her voice sounding complicated when she responds next.
F Y I
• 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: ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
Hey! [ He barks, belatedly, trotting after him. ] How old are you supposed to be in this memory, anyway? Like, twenty? [ Kinda boring even for twenty, honestly, but maybe Chishiya just had a growth spurt real late. ]
no subject
I'm nine. Shouldn't you know that?
[If this dog lives in his head, shouldn't he know that? He sounds vaguely exasperated, but that might be less to do with Jake and more to do with his need to scrounge for food in a kitchen built for adults.
He looks in the fridge and doesn't seem entirely satisfied with what he finds there. With a sigh he grabs a stool and drags it over so he can better reach the pantry above the counter. There are some instant noodles up there that he can make himself, if he can just reach them. Once again, his parents are not around and didn't think that, perhaps, they should put some easy-to-prepare food down so their child could easily access it.
But it's fine he seems entirely unsurprised and accustomed to this, as he climbs up on to reach for a bowl of instant ramen.]
no subject
That is, until an invisible fissure in the chair leg suddenly splinters.
Jake's response is immediate and instinctual, stretching forward immediately to catch the child in his arms. He'd done this more times than he could count with his own little brother. Unfortunately, it didn't seem like Chishiya had an older brother (or a family pet) looking out for him. ]
Yeesh, careful, buddy! [ Jake scolds, briefly forgetting that this was his adult friend and speaking to him as an adult would to a child. ] You good?
no subject
He doesn’t reassure Jake that he’s fine, because he’s realized there are a couple of things wrong with this scenario.
First of all, the dog shouldn’t have been able to reach him. Secondly, the dog is supposed to be a hallucination. Hallucinations shouldn’t be corporeal should they? They can’t catch people when they fall. That’s not how these things work.
He breaks free of Jake’s grasp and scrambles backwards, eyeing him suspiciously.]
What’s going on?
[This is probably not the nicest way to react to being helped, but it’s doubtful anyone ever taught this child how to be nice.]
no subject
Well, your big butt broke the chair, that's what's going on. [ He offers, straight forward, before tossing the wood over his shoulder. ] But beyond that, I'm pretty sure this whole thing isn't actually real.
Or like, it was real, once. But isn't anymore. [ Jake waits a moment, looking around. The universe around them didn't immediately start dematerializing. That was either good news or bad news, Jake couldn't say yet. ] You and I are friends way far in the future, though, so you've got that to look forward to.
no subject
Friends. Right. That sounds fake.
[More fake than a stretchy talking dog? Maybe. He is, perhaps, sulking a little bit while he tries to make sense of all this.]
no subject
no subject
Does it look exciting?
no subject
I didn't jostle you too much when I caught ya, did I? [ He takes Chishiya's arm by the sleeve, wiggling it playfully. ] No broken bones? Internal injuries?
no subject
He answers the question, though.
That's easy enough.]
I guess not, because that doesn't hurt.
[He's pretty sure it would hurt if someone wiggled his arm while it was broken.]
So, are you an alien or something?
[If he's not a figment of his imagination, Chishiya has questions of his own.]
no subject
Obviously, the joke not being funny was not an option Jake considered. That was objectively hilarious.Jake sits back a bit, getting comfortable as they settle into a conversation on the kitchen floor. ]
Uh... kinda. I'm half alien. [ He'd never even told the real Chishiya that. But, granted, he'd never asked. ] But I'm also half dog.
no subject
[He leans forward, his curiosity getting the better of him (an unfortunate tendency in both children and cats), and kind of...pokes the dog. Clearly, if they're really friends this should be fine, right?
Or maybe Chishiya is just rude.
Either way he wants to see if Jake feels like a dog or like...alien rubber....or something in between. He was a little too stunned to take notice when he fell.]
no subject
Suffice to say, he feels like a dog. ]
You don't gotta be so timid, I won't bite ya.
no subject
He pulls his hand back and crosses arms over his chest.]
I'm not timid.
no subject
no subject
Didn't you say we were friends? Shouldn't you know things already?
no subject
Heh, sorry about that. I, uh... let's just say you'd be surprised. [ Or maybe not too surprised. Talking to his younger self, Jake at least knew that Chishiya must've been a mistrustful and secretive person from birth. ] But we are friends. And I think if you're seeing all this, you must be in trouble. Stuck in a weird memory-dream or something, I dunno...
[ He rubs a paw against his jowl thoughtfully before a grin suddenly breaks off over his face. ]
Oh, duh. I'm an idiot. [ Standing up on all fours once again, Jake gives the child a quick once over. ] Now, you're sure I didn't hurt you, right?
no subject
He frowns a little at the question.]
I'm fine.
no subject
[ Without any more warning than that, Jake lunges forward and presses his paws to Chishiya's shoulders, licking his face with all the dogged determination of a... well, dog. ]
no subject
He shoves the dog away all at once, and says, clearly exasperated:]
Goddammit, Jake.
[Which is to say, doggy slobber appears to be a cure for orb induced mindfuckery and it’s all coming back to him now.]
no subject
Honestly, he didn't even look that different. Weird. ]
You love it! [ He crows, triumphant. A dog kiss was a very precious thing, after all. To be cherished. ] Don't be a hater, boyee.
no subject
That's not the word I'd use.
["Love," that is. Calling him a hater wouldn't be inaccurate in general.
He can't deny that Jake helped him, though. He sighs.]
Thank you.
no subject
[ From where he's poised on his back, tail wagging, Jake looks perhaps more like a dog than usual. The word love could be a contentious one, in many ways. Though it didn't seem all that complicated from Jake's perspective, in this moment. He loved a lot of things. Sandwiches, his kids, getting his ear scratched.
Where Chishiya fell on that list, or if he even made the list at all, changed from day to day (or occasionally hour to hour), but a dog didn't lick just anyone. A gesture reserved unruly pups, for Finn when he was oversleeping or needed to be calmed down during moments of high stress (until he got too big for it, anyway), for anyone a dog might care for... in both senses of the word.
Too bad Chishiya was a cat person.
Jake flips back up on his back after a moment, chin resting in his paws with all the gossipy energy of a teenage girl at a slumber party. ]
Soooo, that was baby Chishiya, huh?
no subject
Turns out, he's not. Thanking Jake for getting him out of the memory was about as much as he could handle right now. So when Jake opens up the floor for further conversation Chishiya takes a deep breath and sighs.
And then turns and heads toward the door without another word.]