Interdimensional Managers (
interdimanagers) wrote in
interstellar4042015-09-13 03:08 am
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TEST DRIVE MEME: THE SELF TITLED ALBUM
☆WELCOME TO INTERSTELLARAnd welcome to our first TDM! We've got two types of prompts to use this time around: the first takes place while your character is in the process of being captured, and the second is during their first brainwashed rockstar tour. The former is designed to be considered 100% game canon if you make it in officially, while the later is more speculative and will only work if you get lucky during label and band selection.☆THE TALENT SEARCHThese prompts are design to be kept as game canon after acceptance, and can be used as the official story of how your character was captured. Importantly, the kidnappers entering your timeline causes massive time distortions, which means that the outcome of this scenario will stagger and replay itself multiple times before settling on an outcome. This means that after the fact, you character may remember being captured multiple ways, or going in more than one direction, before the timeline settled on a final path. Or at least, they'll remember this until their memories are wiped shortly afterwards, but that's okay! That's what memory regains are for. Read this page for more specifics on this situation. Any powers the characters have will be weakened and prone to malfunction to the point of uselessness.
►A1) THE SEARCH: It always starts out this way, doesn't it? At some point in your life, you were just doing your thing, wherever you call home. Then, all at once, it's like you've been torn from your dimension by the roots. Time and space displace, and it's like you've been shifted one layer of reality to the left - like some kind of subspace where you can see your reality through it, like a rainbow surrealist image of your home. Even if you can see this ghost image of where you were, you can't interact with it meaningfully. Any friends or family are somewhere else. As you begin to wander, without any other options, you'll find that the scenery gradually shifts to ghost images of other places, other worlds. If you wander long enough, you'll even find other people, lost just like you are. But you probably won't have much time - you've been brought here for a reason, after all.
►A2) THE HUNT: It could happen almost immediately, or it could happen hours later - but, at some point, your dimensional kidnappers start to do their sweep. Space Men in black body suits and gas masks pursue you on foot and in small spaceships, trying to sweep you and the other displaced up like fish in a net. Their guns contain a weird pink gas that will knock out most with only a single breath - and for those more enduring, they have the heavy artillery, like electrical nets and guns. The fallen will be sealed up into stasis pods for transport and loaded onto the ships, which seem like the only way to get out of this place by choice. This is where it ends, but are you going to put up a fight?☆THE MAGIC TOUR BUSBy default, these prompt aren't considered canon, but if after you are accepted and sorted they can be tweaked into working for you, it'll be totally okay to keep them as a part of your rockstar's personal history. They take place after being kidnapped and brainwashed, on your character's first tour under their new label. As it turns out, it seems like brainwashing aliens isn't the only thing the abductees have to worry about.
►B1) PLAY IT STRAIGHT: It's just another day on the tour bus, in between long stretches of highway. How do you fill your time? Do you practice your instrument, or do you take full advantage of the open bar? Do you sulk and try go to bed early? Do you yell at your bandmates for ruining the toilet? Do you troll people on Twitter? Tours being what they are, everyone is probably at least a little bit tired or cranky. Just don't do anything that will get the Manager on your ass, because that's always more trouble than it's worth.
►B2) THAT'S NORMAL: The Managers aren't here, as far as you can tell, leaving you in a moment of relative relaxation. Something about those guys just make you uneasy, and they're always shoving you around and making you do things you don't really want to. However, these moments of peace don't last long, because it stars to become increasingly apparent that your tour bus might be...haunted? Whether its the bus turning on without a driver and without a key, wine glasses falling off tables, or guitar static sounding like frantic whispering, things are starting to get weird. Yet, at the same time, something in your subconscious is strongly suggesting that you should ignore it, and that everything is normal and fine...
►B3) THEN WHO WAS GUITAR?: These weird experiences eventually culminate in a kind of phantom music bleeding in from the air around you. The source is impossible to discern but it's somehow...familiar? Like something that played at an important moment in your life, even if the event itself just won't come to mind. What's weirder, is that everyone seems to hear something different. It gets to you in a way that your programming doesn't like - but how do you react? Reluctantly take it in, or throw a fit until it stops?☆HELPFUL INFO► Follow the mod plurk for updates:interstellar5555
► Check out the game NAVIGATION
► We are still looking for some mod help, so if you are interested let us know!
► Reserves close on SEPTEMBER 25th at 12:01AM EDT
► Applications open on SEPTEMBER 24th at 12:01AM EDT
Greg Universe | Steven Universe
"Oh boy."
Greg had gone very still, cold sweat breaking over him. Whatever this was, it was some seriously bad news, and he didn't want anything to do with it. Balding, overweight, sporting torn shorts and a nasty farmers tan, he was the last sort of person who needed to get involved with whatever weird magic stuff was going down.
He kept his hands raised, just to make sure he didn't touch anything--not that there seemed like there was anything to touch, in the first place, but this was definitely a case of "better safe than sorry."
"Hello? Anyone? Steven? Uh... Garnet? Someone?" He kept looking around for some sort of indication that this was okay, this would work out, so long as he waited for someone else to handle it. His car wash was right there, he could see it, so he just had to hang out here and keep from getting lost, right?
B1: MR. UNIVERSE
Oh man. He's got a killer headache. Whatever happened last night, it must've been amazing. The headshots stacked in front of him kept blurring, and he would find himself staring, trying to process his own face. It was his face, obviously, he knew that. Young, cleanshaven, pierced. Still, somehow it looked... more awesome than ever. Man, he's one good lookin' guy.
Ego didn't fix the headache bouncing through his skull with each bump the bus took, though. With a low groan, Mr. Universe leaned back on the couch, running a hand through his hair.
"Anyone want to stop for burgers? I gotta kill this hangover, somehow." His workout routine could take a hit, just the once. Greater good or whatever.
B3: MY SPOOKY UNWANTED MUSE
He keeps pacing, muttering to himself, guitar strapped over his shoulder. This tune. He knows it. It's--it IS music, so he should--there's a song coming to him, that's what it is. He should be writing it down, getting it out of his head, because that's what he does, that's what you do when there's music in your head, and that's what it IS, it's in his head, because no one is playing it, so it just means he's INSPIRED.
The problem isn't the music, though. It's how, every time he lifts a pencil to write down the notes, it escapes him. Every time he puts his fingers to the strings to make it real, it shifts and warps, and he goes blank. It doesn't make any sense. He loves music, and he loves making and hearing music, so why doesn't he love this.
A1
Except, it seems less and less like it's going to go that way when he reaches the warped image of the temple, and runs through the ghost image of the door more than he opens it. There's no one there, even as the TV seems to flicker and warble from a plane of existence he can't touch.
"Guys?" he calls out. "Guys, uh...something really crazy is happening, and I need your help working it out so if you could...show up, somewhere..."
He trails off.
"...That would be really great."
He spends a while longer looking for them, but when nothing works, the panic starts to thicken. He has a firm second option in this kind of situation, even if the idea of his dad being in this mess at all scares him more than the alternative. He runs out of the temple, and down towards the car wash.
"Dad!" And then, against all odds, he sees him. His eyes are tearing up with fear and relief. "Dad, you're here!"
He plows into his father's body, hugging him tight without wasting a second.
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Relief flooded through Greg at the sight of his son. He squeezed the little body tight, making sure he was really and truly here and okay. Obviously, this was something Gem-related, which meant Steven was involved, but now he was here, and safe.
"Oh man, kiddo, I was starting to wig out. What is all this, what happened?" Steven was scared, but he had some idea, right? Just because he'd never seen anything like this before, didn't mean it was anything too weird, right? It was just a matter of keeping calm.
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He tries to calm down. He's gotta give a good answer here.
"I...I dunno," he says, picking his words carefully. "I can't find any of the other Gems, and I don't see any gem monsters anywhere...!" He hesitates before confessing. "I've...I've never seen something like this before, and it's wigging me out, too."
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Still, there's only one thing Greg is good for, and that's keeping Steven happy. The rest can come later. With a deep breath, Greg squeezes Steven's shoulder. "Hey, c'mon. We'll figure this out, pal, don't worry."
He glances around the bizarre, technicolor landscape, chewing his cheek. He still doesn't like the idea of going wandering around. Besides, if Steven was able to find him, maybe the rest will, too. "All we gotta do is stick together. It'll work out!" It always works out. So this will, too.
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B1
Leaning forward, she slides face-first onto the couch cushions beside him. "Greggggggg, look it up on Google."
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"Milkshakes are good for drinking a milkshake, and that's good enough for me." He poked idly at his phone, frowning. "Flavor might help."
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Where's her phone at, anyway? Pinkie pats the couch cushions, then the pockets of her shorts, before giving up. It's probably somewhere around here. "We could get two different kinds and split them."
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A1
"Ah, dammit!" he grumbled. What the hell? He had a full case load and absolutely no patience for this kind of bullshit.
"Hey!" he shouted into the void. "What's the big idea, huh?" He waved his arms indignantly.
After a moment, no answer came. Fine. He took his fedora off his head, brushed invisible dust off its brim, blew in it, and put it back on his head. Okay he just had to find the Dopant responsible and kick its ass, clearly.
But for now, there was a random person caught up in this he had to take care of. "You alright?" he asked, finally addressing Greg. He gave him a once-over. He'd never seen someone so bald but with such long hair before. What a weirdo.
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Shotaro, on the other hand, looked on pretty much the opposite end of the absurdity spectrum. Greg didn't think he'd ever seen the mayor dressed this nice, with a hat and everything. Way fancy.
He answered with a shrug, as casual as possible when the world around you has gone to rainbow smoke and you might be losing your mind or something and monsters were due to show up soon. "Well, I've been worse. You, uh, know what any of this is?" All that shouting didn't make the odds promising, but it was worth a shot.
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But all told, this guy was taking this well. But Shotaro shook his head. "Not a clue." If everything were white and filled with bookshelves, he would have a better idea of the plane of existence in which he dwelled. But this didn't look familiar at all.
He looked around at the flashes of other worlds. One medieval place had a dude getting his head cut off before a crowd. Another place was a bunch of steel hallways crawling with big black-shelled aliens.
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"I was pretty sure this had to be some sort of weird magic thing..." He backed off a few steps while a stampeding herd of ethereal buffalo stormed past, without so much as a breeze to feel on their side of things. "This is getting kinda far outside the usual, though."
B1
"If I just had some coffee I might be able to remember something that happened last night..." As if she even wanted to.
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He sunk further into the cushions. "If I make coffee, you're not allowed to complain." It was a futile demand, he knew; all he could handle right now was instant.
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Too bad, complaining was all she wanted to do right now. "...I can make my OWN coffee." Or she could, if standing up didn't make her nauseous.
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Does she rock? Does she?
obvious pun here
B2
Weasel here had been spared a headache, since he'd also avoided the drinking. Someone had to be in the right shape to stoically mock everyone the next morning, after all. He sits with one leg up on the seat, calmly plucking at his bass guitar.
"Burger places have practically nonexistent vegetarian options." Most didn't even carry veggie burgers, and those had a habit of being more like a slab of salt between two patties anyway. Frankly, most fast food places had little to no vegetarian options. "You're aiming to give yourself heart trouble."
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He sends the bassist a wry grimace of a smile. "French fries, Weasel. C'mon. You love the bits." Greg has decided on everyone's behalf that everyone loves the bits. "I gotta get something in me, and you never share your tofu wraps or anything."
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Literally. He's sure there'd be all of one or two bites taken before they were tossed aside with a look of disgust.
"Check the bar for sandwiches. They're bound to have something. Crackers, maybe."
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Heaving out a long, pained sigh, Greg contemplated the effort of heading all the way into the kitchen nook. It was so very far, though, and his head hurt so very much.
"Weasel. Pal. I need you to do me a favor."
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A1
Greg!
[Of all the people caught up in this...!]
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[Hah, he was worried there for a minute or ten. But if she's here, then there's definitely an explanation. Totally.]
What is all this stuff?
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[Its like a warp that's gone all wrong, somehow. Like they got tossed into a blender of teleporters. There's no way to tell up or down - or how to get out.
She won't burden Greg with that, or with the things her vision told her. None of the possibilities are good, at all.]
We'll find a way out.
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[It was probably unfair to expect her to have all the answers, but when you have none you tend to put a lot of hope in other people. Still, Greg feels a heck of a lot better, just having someone familiar to be around.]
It's like the whole town got fused with technicolor jello, or something.
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