( 003 » ENSEMBLE ) party time.

[reveriemod]

» WHO? Everyone
» WHEN? July 1 to July 8
» WHERE? Entire Station
» WHAT? 168 hours of being forced to listen to cheesy music on repeat…
» WARNINGS? the mundane and slightly ridiculous becoming terrible, cheesy pop music, forced sleep deprivation, anger, loss of control, emotions, potential for stabbing, hallucinations, mania, memory loss, confusion, seizures, depression.

0 0 1 » LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED

It starts in the mess hall and it starts slowly. At first, it can barely be heard over the conversations that are happening but as the volume increases, it becomes apparent that music is playing. Not just any music: characters from Earth will recognise these pop hits from the 70s, 80s and 90s. They’re the kind of hits one might find on a Spotify playlist titled “Top 100 Cheesy Hits” or “Songs To Sing To In The Shower”. Power ballads. Boy bands. Girl bands. Woodstock.

Soon, the music can be heard all across the station, blasting from every speaker, audible in every room. Characters who were asleep in their quarters will be woken by the music’s volume, characters under the shower might want to start singing along (but remember, the walls might just be thin enough for the neighbours to hear) and if characters clear some chairs, there’s enough space in the bar for an impromptu dance floor.

Some characters have been working on improving the replicators, too, so while the alcohol supplies at the bar are dwindling and all but gone, the replicators are now capable of making something that’s palatable, even if it’s not quite up to scratch.

What’s the harm in having some fun? It’s just a little music, right?

( ♪ )

0 0 2 » I WANT OFF THIS RIDE

It’s just a little music, right? And it is — but it just won’t seem to stop. The first few hours may have been entertaining, at least for those who did not get woken up by the sound of decades (centuries, even) in the past, but the music keeps going long past the point of entertainment.

After two hours, the songs start repeating. After six hours, they’re still playing. After twelve? Still playing. Twenty-four? Still playing.

Sleep becomes all but impossible as the music keeps playing loudly in every room and every corridor of the station. Attempts to shut it down prove unsuccessful.

Forty-eight hours later, the music is still playing.

Characters will begin to suffer the effects of sleep deprivation, in addition to the general irritation that might come from hearing the same two hours worth of cheesy pop songs on a loop: headaches, exhaustion, tremors, irritability and confusion to begin with, followed by lapses in memory, muscle aches, malaise, violent behaviour, hallucinations or mania as cognitive effects set in, possibly also seizures and depression.

And still, the music keeps playing.

( ♪ )

0 0 3 » THERE’S SOMETHING IN THE WATER

The music and the sleep deprivation it causes are the reason for many of the symptoms people are feeling, but something is happening that goes even beyond the music, beyond the lack of sleep: something has changed about the food replicators.

The food is slowly getting better, for one, thanks to a group of individuals who’ve been working on improving them. Beyond that, however, imperceptible, the composition of the food comes with something extra -- namely heightened emotions. Whatever causes it, it’s in the water, too.

Those who are already angry feel angrier and have a harder time controlling that anger. Those who are already sad feel sadder and have a harder time not bursting into tears. Those who are already apathetic feel more apathetic and have a harder time prompting themselves to so much as move. The effect holds for all emotions, heightening them, making them harder to control or counteract. Impulses become action far more quickly than usual. Irritation at the music may become anger at the person singing along under their breath and that, in turn, may lead to someone getting stabbed with a plastic fork.

It’s nearly impossible to keep a cool head, though some people seem more affected than others.

OOC: This part of the plot is completely opt-in. Whatever characters are feeling will be heightened and strengthened and their impulse control lowered. Make sure to get ooc permission for any stabby action of comparable deeds, and keep in mind that non-con is prohibited in game.

( ♪ )

0 0 4 » AFTERMATH

After 168 hours, the music stops. Whatever was in the water and the food is gone again, meaning characters may never know it was there in the first place. After all, some of the effects of it could have been down to the sleep deprivation as well…

Still, there’s something off about the whole thing. It might seem like someone is watching them. Toying with them. But surely that’s just paranoia, right?

In the aftermath of sleep deprivation and poor impulse control, characters might want to get some sleep or try to mend those relationships that were damaged by careless words or people getting creative with the cutlery.

( ♪ )

Please remember to put warnings in subject lines if so required.

Comments

[pampa]

Miller is going around just as half-cocked, though thankfully, his clothes are still on. He'd forgotten his hat in his room though, so his silhouette might not be immediately recognizable as he stalks down the hall with his Rhino out and pressed to his thigh like he's some sort of fucking secret agent as he shifts down the corridor, eyes bugged wide. His finger's on the trigger as he raises it towards the 'bogey' aka naked Kovacs.

"Jesus Christ, you piece of shit. What are you doing." He should probably put the gun down, but he... doesn't :')

[resleeves]

"Trying to get some fucking peace and quiet but apparently, that's impossible," Kovacs snaps, glaring at Miller, then the gun and then back at Miller. He rolls his eyes and puts his hands on his hips, uncaring of his nakedness.

"You planning on shooting me, you shit?" Kovacs asks, tilting his head to one side and sizing the other man up. He was nothing but bird bones and booze. It would be so easy to step out of his room and break his spine in half, leave him in a heap of tears on the floor but that wouldn't turn the music off.

"Or are you just going to keep looking until your pants start protesting?" he retorts heatedly. That would have been a great line to tease him with but there's nothing about his tone that says he's teasing.

[pampa]

He points to the speaker behind Kovacs' head, which apparently is enough of a warning before he fires off a round into the ceiling. Despite the crazy eyes, he's still a damn good shot so Kovacs was (mostly) safe. That is until it ricochets off the metal grating and heads straight back for him. Normally, Miller would have accounted for that, but going on three days with no sleep and godawful Earther music blaring through all corners of the station is another story entirely. Thankfully, he did realize his mistake the second it discharged and he dives forward into the other man, also uncaring of his nakedness as Miller's brittle chest collides with what may as well be a solid wall. Still dripping from the shower, the momentum must be enough to slip Kovacs off his balance because they both go down hard, narrowly evading the bullet as it lodges itself in the floor.

"I don't think my pants are the problem here." AKA Put some fucking clothes on! Miller has to take a second to catch his breath, between the fall knocking the wind out of him (and probably recracking all his ribs) and yelling at Kovacs it takes a full beat before he's scrambling away from the wet, naked guy he just tackled. "God, I fucking hate space."

[resleeves]

Miller is an unpredictable character at his best but it takes a lot of fucking balls to tackle an Envoy. That's why Kovacs doesn't even see it coming before Miller's barreling into his chest, disrupting his balance enough that he slips on the water from the shower and hits the ground, hard.

What the fuck. Had Miller just tackled him? Had Miller then just fallen on top of him, barely making a dent by knocking the wind out of him anyway? For a second, all Kovacs can do is stare up at the ceiling before he shoves Miller off of him and makes no move to get up and put some clothes on.

"I don't like you like that, you fuck," Kovacs says, glaring. "Are you trying to kill the both of us? I don't want to wake up fucking blind either! Don't look if you don't want to see my dick."

[pampa]

A lot of things could be said about the former detective, but not having balls was never a criticism among them. Kovacs' anger registers belatedly, but he's still trying not to think about the fact that he panicked because the other man was in danger - regardless of Miller being the one to endanger him. That somehow seems completely irrelevant actually as he clambers to his feet. He'd offer Kovacs a hand up, but then he'd just fall over again.

"So you do like me," he commentates dryly, making no move himself to turn away or otherwise shield himself from the man's state of undress. It's just a dick, what's the big deal???

[resleeves]

"Get fucked."

That wasn't a denial. And he wasn't going to dwell on it either, too busy trying to push himself back up because he did not want to lay on the floor in a puddle of his own shower water. As soon as he was upright, the music registered again and set his teeth on edge.

The speaker was a sizzling hunk of wires but somehow, he could still hear fucking music and it was going to drive him out of his fucking head.

"Don't fucking tackle me again." Yes, let him take a bullet because maybe then he'd pass out and not hear the music. "Why the fuck hasn't it stopped?"

[pampa]

Miller just shrugs, he wasn't planning on getting fucked but he also wasn't planning on tacjling Kovacs evER again. That hurt even worse than Alex landing on him somehow. Damn Inners and their solid fucking skeletons. He looks up at the borked speaker and back down at the bullet that now lives in Kovac's floor. It really doesn't make any sense, does it? He clicks the safety on and tucks the gun into his back pocket before crouching down to pick up the shell and looking from the casing to Kovacs to the ceiling and back to the round in the grate below his feet.

"It must be coming through the central PA system. Maybe even the air vents." If nothing else could seal that this was a social experiment, today would. He grabs Kovacs' arm suddenly. "We should go to the bridge, see if there's a way to disable it." Yes, we. Put pants on or don't it's not his problem anymore.

[resleeves]

Man, Miller, you were starting to get a little too attached, weren't you? Kovacs shook his arm out of Miller's grip and rubbed a hand through his hair. He really doesn't want to go anywhere and help unless helping means he can find the source of this fucking music and bash its fucking brains in.

No, he doesn't care if its an inanimate or intangible object! He'll beat the fuck out of it anyway.

"You don't think anyone else has thought of going to the bridge?" Kovacs asks, shaking his head. "I think we would have had some solutions by now unless you're planning to go in there and shoot things in there too?"

[pampa]

"...Have you been out there? Everyone's losing their shit." Including him, but don't talk about it. He shakes his head. "If there's a way to shut this off, don't you wanna help?"

It's a road they'd been down before. Kovacs claims to be out for himself, but the thing is? Miller doesn't believe him.

[resleeves]

After the first few hours of the music, Kovacs had started to ignore everyone else. As things had gotten worse and worse and Quell had gotten louder and louder, he'd stopped paying attention to to most everything but that.

"I want the music to stop," Kovacs grits out, taking a breath, "but I don't understand how going to the bridge would help. Someone else would think of that."

But maybe someone else didn't have a gun and wasn't as batshit as Miller. Shooting up the bridge probably wasn't a good idea but what the fuck else did they have left to try?

"But, if you want to go, fine." He'd go with.

[pampa]

Aww, how cute that Kovacs is accommodating him after he almost put a bullet in him tbh. But Miller also wants the music to stop and he can't think of any place else to go that might change the predicament they're in.

"Then we'll get in our cardio for the day, sabakawala." He says it sweetly and smiles even sweeter. "You gonna put some fucking pants on now?"

[resleeves]

Kovacs is almost tempted to say no since everyone seems to have a big fucking issue with nudity. But, he relents after a second because no telling what they're going to find on the the bridge and if he ends up outside or dead, better to have the bits covered.

So, with a grumble under his breath, he grabs that stupid fucking jumpsuit and puts it on.

"There. Everyone makes a big fucking deal about being naked. You do realize you've got your own dick that you probably look at every night, right? Granted, it might embarrass you but it's gotta be there."

[pampa]

Miller wouldn't actually stop him from walking around naked, but yes okay jumpsuit. Much better. He looks him over and slaps his shoulder in approval before shrugging and taking off - as always expecting his counterpart to follow.

"I don't actually enjoy looking at any dicks, but to each their own, right." He practically shouts it so Kovacs can hear him over the music.

[resleeves]

Kovacs isn't a juvenile. He's over two hundred years old but right now, he just wants to slap his hands over his ears and scream to block out this music. Every single fucking century had shitty music but that doesn't mean it has to infect this station.

They already have enough fucking problems!

"Not even your own?" Kovacs yells right back because he has to talk about something or he's going to fucking punch a hole through the wall.

[pampa]

Miller doesn't disagree alright, this music is seriously A Lot.

"Especially not my own." He makes a face, you are such a weird guy, Kovacs. "Not all of us are egomaniacs." Not that Kovacs has anything to be ashamed of BUT HE CAN'T SAY THAT.

[resleeves]

"Why, you scared of it?" Kovacs asks, trying to make pleasant conversation even though he's nearly screaming the words. Has to over whatever warbling is currently infecting this fucking station. And if he thinks too much, goes quiet, he's only going to hear it or he's going to hear Quell and he doesn't want to hear anything right now.

Fucking shit, he hates this station.

"Least you have one," Kovacs says, going by Miller's previous words. "Would have been worried if you didn't."

[pampa]

Is he scared... of his own dick? What is this conversation even?

"...What are you worrying about my dick anyway for?"

[resleeves]

"Because it gives me something to do that isn't listening to this goddamn music," Kovacs snaps, glaring. Go with it, Miller. Or change the subject but it's hard to think while he's listening to a bunch of women screen about what they wannabe.

"Besides, it's not worry, it's curiosity," he corrects because there's a huge difference when you're talking about dicks. "We've established that you have one. Now just gotta see if you know how to do use it without crying in a corner."

[pampa]

"I'm not sure I like the idea of you bein' curious about my dick." Goddamnit Kovacs. Where are they going again? Oh yeah... yeah, Bridge. "Do people really listen to this on purpose?"

[resleeves]

"Why the fuck are you asking me?" He's noticed that you changed the subject, Miller, but don't think it's dropped. He'll ask you dick questions later because now he's wondering if it's a fucked up duck or something like that.

"I don't give a shit about music unless there's someone in front of me, dancing to it," Kovacs says, hunching his shoulders up to his ears like that might block the music. "And believe me, if that's happening, I'm not paying attention to the music."

[pampa]

"Because otherwise I'd have to ask myself and I don't fucking know either." Test-y, Kovacs. But Miller just sighs. He's gone from aggravated to fucking tired in record time. "Next time I'm letting the bullet hit you." Except then he'd have to listen to Kovacs whine about it and that's even worse. Miller presses a heel of his hand to his eyes as he walks, as if that could ease the pain in his head.

[resleeves]

"You'd be upset if I died," Kovacs remarks. Then, who the hell else would Miller have to call terrible names and bitch at? There wasn't anyone else like him on the station. He was one of a fucking kind, thank you.

"Just keep it away from my neck and you can shoot me anytime since it seems like I'll just come back to life like a fucking reanimated zombie," Kovacs says, shaking his head. At least he doesn't have to worry about fucking this sleeve up since a good sleep after your heart stopped seemed to fix you up just fine.

"You wanna fucking use me for target practice, go ahead," Kovacs quips, looking over. "Just be ready for me to snap your spine when I come back."

FRIENDS.

[pampa]

He hesitates because he would be upset, he knows without analyzing it. But he'd been upset when Semi died too, the thing is, that feeling hadn't stuck around long at all. So he just mutters, "I'd get over it," and lets Kovacs continue his rant.

"But I'm still not angling to shoot you, you know, on purpose. Unless I have to." You understand. FRIENDSHIP indeed.

[resleeves]

"Appreciated," Kovacs says grudgingly, giving Miller a stiff nod. "I don't want to be shot. It fucking hurts. It's how the last sleeve I had died."

So many bullet holes. So much blood. He's still pretty smug that it had taken so much to bring him down but he knows he has Quell to thank for that. Quell who is still lurking and laughing.

"They filled me full of bullets," Kovacs recalls, shaking his head, "because they were upset that I'd left their little group of shitty soldiers. Payback was a bitch in this instance."

[pampa]

"I've never been shot, but cancer hurts pretty bad." Is this how to empathize?? He doesn't know okay. "What'd you do to them?" It's a little dull, but hearing about gory revenge sounds appealing now for whatever reason.