( 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

[luciformis]

[ Ryo knows greenery.

He holds no gentle and recent memories of it the way Akira does, but he too remembers hiding from their supervisors in the wild shrubbery. He remembers too the smell of bay roses at the shore, how he'd carefully dissected a specimen for Akira to see without brushing his fingers against the sharp ends of thorns. But, still, there's something older than that, more painful. He doesn't know why, at the residual corners of his memory, it takes root. Like night blooming flowers, their pale faces tilted up to the moon, he doesn't know what it is about the smell of Earth that draws him to it. But in that same way, he supposes, wouldn't it then be natural that he was drawn too to the sun? The heat of Akira's palm spreads through his, makes him softer — more malleable. He watches for Akira's reaction, knows that the fainter smile he gives him is not what he'd hoped, but in some ways had hoped for as he Akira's fingers brush across the curve of his knuckles, tightens their grip.

He tells himself that he doesn't know what it is that illuminates him from the inside out as Akira does, a distorted reflection of what Akira gives him so readily.

There's a warmth at the corners of his mouth, at the soft round of his shoulders. As children, he'd resisted the initial pull toward the world. In the classrooms, in the games that they would play — he'd kept toward the edge. He'd found more interest in the books the adults would open, in the manipulation of toys beyond their intended purpose. And Akira, who cried for anyone, situated himself beside Ryo and never learned how to part. Ryo doesn't wonder what would happen if he did, because he knows no other world without Akira in it. He knows, in the deepest parts of him, there would be nothing left of him.

Still, he doesn't smile, but he needn't have to. His eyes are bright, no matter the weight of the fatigue that sprawls between them both — a thick and heavy sediment. In its settling, it stirs up what's beneath more than Ryo cares to touch on. His heart hums, certain but unsteady, assuaged and aggravated both by the way Akira doesn't let him go. It shouldn't be anything new (and it isn't), but Ryo reasons the potency of his reactions are in part colored by the environment, the nutrition they're forced to take in. He reasons it could be any number of things, as Akira weaves with him through the full and verdant rows. He reasons, when Akira remarks on the growth and his wishes, that his tongue trips because he'd been focused on which plants Akira lingered over longest. ]

We could ask Okumura-san, [ he says, after a long moment. The pad of his thumb, calloused as it, strokes over the broader edge of Akira's own. It's a reciprocal action, as his eyes flicker over to seek out Akira's. It's almost automatic. It's where his attention had always settled, in the end. ] The first hydroponics garden was her idea. [ He remembers when she'd first started. He'd visited her then, given her clearer ideas on what they could do to assure solid growth. And he'd visited at least once a day since then, no matter the discovery of the larger room. Her own had been more established, he reasoned. It was best to see what could be derived and transplanted from them. ] I'm sure she'd like to see that too.

[ He needn't vocalize that he suggests it for Akira's sake, but in many way he does. Already, his gears are turning even despite his lack of energy. He thinks of what they have in storage, what is already growing. He wonders which ones would most resemble the paths they'd tread at home. ]