( 002 » ENSEMBLE ) gravitational.

[reveriemod]

» WHO? EVERYONE
» WHEN? JUNE 1 onward
» WHERE? ALL OVER THE STATION (literally)
» WHAT? Gravity is always on, until it isn't.
» WARNINGS? zero g, paralysis, the vacuum of space, possible asphyxiation, possible character death

0 0 1 » LOSS OF GRAVITY

The outer rings of Reverie Station rotate around the shaft of the station, using inertial forces to simulate gravity. One moment, this works fine — people are walking along corridors, sleeping in their beds, eating in the mess hall or having a drink at the bar. The next moment? In some parts of the station, a crunching sound can be heard, like metal against metal, and shortly thereafter, the rings cease to spin, causing a jolt to go through all rings.

And then what passed for gravity just stops.

Your food, drink or blanket might have floated off after the jolt. Remember to engage your mag boots, if you're wearing them, lest you follow suit. Good luck getting around in zero g.

( ♪ )

0 0 1 . 1 » UPSIDE DOWN AND FLOATING

The lack of gravity may be disorienting at first for those not used to operating in zero g environments. Fortunately, mag boots mean you can continue walking along corridors — though the boots will engage with what used to be the ceiling of the corridors as much as what used to be the floor. No matter which part of the corridor you're attached to, if any, better make sure to collect anything that may be floating around, lest it becomes a dangerous projectile whenever gravity turns back on.

The mess hall and the gym area in particular are in a significant state of disarray. In the mess hall, some cutlery (of the grey, hard plastic variant) has been left unsecured and is floating harmlessly through the air. The same holds true for a large amount of protein powder. In the gym area, meanwhile, the entirety of the dirty water from the pool is no longer in the pool.

( ☺︎ )

0 0 1 . 2 » PARALYSIS INDOORS

One moment, you’re walking — or maybe you’re floating, mag boots disengaged. Either way, from one moment to the next, you become unable to move. Your arms, your legs, even wiggling a toe becomes a thing of impossibility. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, despite the fact that gravity is still not back on. Taking a breath is an ordeal. You can’t call for help, you can’t signal to anyone, you can only stay still.

( ♪ )

OOC: The length of paralysis is up to players.

0 0 2 » TAKE A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE

It isn't clear why the rotation of the rings has stopped and gravity ceased, but one thing is certain: life on the station is a lot more difficult without gravity, especially for those not used to living and working in a zero g environment. The sensible thing would be to fix whatever is wrong, but in order to do that, you have to figure out what's wrong first.

One way to get an idea might be to put on a suit (if required) and go out an airlock to have a close look at the upper ring, where the crunching noise could be heard the loudest. The objective is to identify the problem and, if possible, fix it — but unless you have the power of flight and can breathe in the vacuum of space, the walk from the airlock to surveying the ring will be taxing in and of itself.

Better not lose hold of the station or each other and whatever you do, do not disengage those mag boots. Hopefully, no debris will come flying at you. The station may be built to withstand it, but you aren't.

( ♪ )

OOC: There are some 20 vac suits with oxygen packs and small thrusters for (weak) propulsion available in the spaces currently accessible to characters; these can be found in various airlocks.

0 0 2 . 1 » FLOATING AROUND

The station may be built to withstand debris, but you aren't — which makes it all the more unfortunate that some debris does catch you. In the side, in the face or in the legs, it doesn't matter: what matters is that the impact is strong enough to disengage the mag boots, which means you are now floating in space.

Did your suit take damage? Do its thrusters still work, or not? Is your oxygen pack still connected properly? If your connection to the station network is still intact, now would be a good time to call for help and hope that someone's close enough to get to you in time before you float too far from the station to still be reached, before your oxygen runs out, before any possible injuries you may have sustained take their toll.

( ♪ )

OOC: With this prompt, the extent of possible injuries, the time before rescue and factors such as oxygen or damage to the suit are all up to players. Please keep in mind that character death is very much a possibility — but that death means relatively little. Should a character die from their injuries or lack of oxygen, they will awaken again. As per the death mechanism outlined in the FAQ, characters are brought back to life (possibly repeatedly, if rescue takes a while), but they lose something. What they lose is up to players as well (a limb, memories, senses, social skills, ...) and the duration of the loss can range from a few days to permanent loss.

0 0 2 . 2 » PARALYSIS OUTDOORS

One moment, you are walking along the hull of the station. The next, you're frozen. Your arms and legs no longer move and there's pressure on your chest. Even taking a breath becomes an ordeal. You cannot move forward. You cannot move back. You can't even signal or call for help.

What choice do you have but to wait out this paralysis and hope that it loses its hold on you before your oxygen runs out? Better not panic, lest you use up more of it.

( ♪ )

OOC: The length of paralysis is up to players.

0 0 3 » WORK IT

For those who've successfully made the walk across the hull of the station to find the problem, it will soon become obvious what has happened: debris crashed into the station and got lodged between the uppermost ring and the shaft of the station, where it is stuck, preventing the spinning of the ring.

You will need to work together to cut through the debris or dislodge it. It's heavy, and you have little leverage in the absence of gravity.

Keep in mind also that if you successfully dislodge the debris, the outer ring will start moving again. Be prepared, especially if you're still connected to the ring by your mag boots. Inertial forces can be quite strong, so you will need to brace yourself or risk being dislodged yourself.

( ♪ )

Comments

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ It's not the coffee cup tumbling over that makes her flinch, though there is an exasperated curse under her breath at it. No, it's the sound of that voice, so dangerously close. She has a napkin of her own that she picks up, having left it just to the side with a clear map of the space in her mind, and her free hand carefully inches along the table until her fingertips find the edge of the puddle for her to mop up. ]

I'm sorry, sugar, I'm a bit more clumsy than usual right now. [ Her southern drawl softens the words but makes them no less sincere. She's sorry to have bothered him, period. ]

[rickitikitarr]

No, my dear, please don't think a thing about it. We're all a little out of step these days, aren't we?

[A few sweeps with the napkin, while he watches her fingertips search the table. Thinks, ah. So.]

Let me get you another cup. How d'you take it?

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ There's a part of her that wonders what this gentleman thinks of her situation, what he's assuming from her actions and how he might act accordingly. If he's noticed and put two and two together, he might try to be helpful and-- ]

Just black is fine, thank you so much.

[ Please don't touch her hands. She keeps them as steady as can be as the napkin soaks up the coffee remnants, but as much as she longs to feel the touch of someone, she can't let him get hurt. ]

[rickitikitarr]

[He's not completely sure, not yet- but whatever it is he's seeing she seems like she could use a kind word and a cup of coffee.

He doesn't touch her. He clears his throat and sets it down with an audible click.]

Quite the week we're having, isn't it?

[In the polite tone of typical weather-commentary.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ She smiles softly, a ghost of expression that does little to ease the tension in her. It's nice to talk to someone, to have a flesh and blood person nearby so she doesn't feel quite so alone, but it isn't safe for him. Part of her can't help but feel selfish for taking this risk and putting everyone on the station in danger. All it would take is one wrong move... ]

It certainly hasn't been the smoothest, has it?

[rickitikitarr]

I came here from Paris.

[He admits, settling back down into his seat, sipping his own coffee.]

Not the good part of it. The slummy corners, in the year 1976, which isn't even pretty through rose coloured glasses. Roaches, rats, muggings, Frenchmen everywhere, and I'd still take there over here.

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Paris. Lord, she misses it, misses hearing people speak French amidst the smell of fresh baked bread. She misses the sight of a city that isn't burning. ]

It sounds like paradise compared to where I came from.

[ Her accent thickens slightly with the words, and she reaches out to very carefully feel for the cup he'd set down for her, wrapping her hands around it before pulling it back toward herself. ]

[rickitikitarr]

Tell me about home?

[He asks, cradling his coffee cup. On fire and hellish or not, he knows it's important to talk about these places.]

You sound American.

[theycalledmeacurse]

I was born in Mississippi, but I lived in New York for half my life. I taught at a boarding school for mutants, until the government decided we didn't deserve the same rights as other humans.

[ She shifts in her seat, her hands tightening around the cup that she can't lift yet because of the way her hands would likely shake. It's harder to keep hold of her emotions in her present situation. ]

'Home' is a place where you're wanted - that isn't the place I came from. Not anymore.

[rickitikitarr]

I'm sorry- mutants?

[Asks Ricki, who's never heard of such a thing. It conjures mental images of the creature from the black lagoon, not this- well, rather normal looking woman sitting with her hands wrapped around a cup of coffee.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ They're not from the same world then. Probably. There's always a chance, but... 1976. Three years after the time they'd tried to change. She pulls in a deep breath and lets it out in a sigh before tiredly explaining. ]

Humans with genetic differences that give us special abilities or physical mutations. It ranges from blue skin to telepathy, manipulating the weather to being able to heal practically any injury in seconds. On my Earth, we were a huge part of the population by the early 2000s.

[rickitikitarr]

Well, we're from very different worlds, you and I.

[Says Ricki, shaking his head lightly as he imagines it. It occurs to him, though that;]

Does that mean you're a telepath?

[She doesn't have blue skin, he's not sure about any of the rest. Just in case, he thinks a mildly apologetic thought very loudly, in case anything ungentlemanly has occurred to him while they've been talking.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ So if there are mutants in his world, they're still in hiding. The lack of confirmation of what happened after their attempt at saving the world continues to haunt her, the uncertainty weighing heavy while there's absolutely nothing she can do about it here. ]

No, that's just about the only thing worse than what I've got.

[ That ghost of a smile is back with just a little more energy than before. She'll take being an energy vampire any day over being a telepath. No thank you. ]

I absorb people through skin-to-skin contact. Thoughts, memories, emotions, energy. I copy any special abilities they have and end up with a whole copy of their psyche stuck in my head forever.

[ There's no bitterness in her voice, just a tinge of exhaustion. War will do that to a person. ]

[rickitikitarr]

Good grief, girl. [Says Ricki, sitting up, a tiny bit startled.] I'm glad I've got good manners.

[If he'd given her hand a squeeze it sounds like he could have gotten quite a shock.]

Speaking of- I'm Ricki. Ricki Tarr.

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ She's glad of that too. The very last thing she wants is to hurt anyone here.]

I'm Rogue. It's nice to meet you, sugar. I'd offer to shake your hand, but I haven't found any gloves here yet. [ Barely a second passes before she adds, with an air of humor: ] And yes, that is my name.

[rickitikitarr]

I was going to ask.

[He has to admit, with a short chuckle.]

One never knows with Americans.

[Says the man named R-i-c-k-i.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ That gets him another small smile. Americans do like their non-traditional names. ]

I chose it myself, seventeen years ago when my mutation manifested. Most mutants choose a new name when we discover who we really are.

[rickitikitarr]

But if your mutations kick in around adolescence, that's going to be terrible too. Teenagers shouldn't be allowed to choose where to go for dinner, never mind what they call themselves. You must know a million Moonbeams and Blazes and Killmachines and Darknesses.

[Reasons Ricki, with his brow furrowing.]

I say this as a man who spent his eighteenth year asking to be called Darwin Danger.

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Her smile grows a fraction larger. Lord, but isn't he a charmer. ]

Maybe back in the seventies, but in my time, most names had something to do with our abilities, or the life we were choosing. Being a mutant wasn't something anyone envied, and when your whole life was crashing around you, you needed something to mark a new start.

[ She tilts her head slightly to the side and a sense of mischief wraps around her. ] So should I can you Ricki or Darwin, sugar? Or would the most polite address be Mister Danger?

[rickitikitarr]

I tell you my deepest, darkest secrets and you go and use them against me?

[He teases, warm and irrepressible and not at all like a contract killer and blackmailer.]

Just Ricki, darling. So, what's it like being here? We're all freaks, in one way or another. Do you still feel the mutants stand out in the crowd?

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ Oh, she's sure he has deeper and darker secrets than that. Everyone here seems to, buried beneath the surface they outwardly present. What those secrets might be, however, is anyone's guess. ]

It's hard to say, really. If there are other mutants here, they're not making themselves known as such. As far as I'm aware, I'm the only one announcing it openly. But so far it hasn't been bad here; no one's chasing me with a pitchfork, at any rate.

[rickitikitarr]

I'll watch what I say. It's the kind of word you could use informally, and inadvertently scare a kid out of their skin.

[He says, sobering a little, letting out a breath.]

Thanks for the warning.

[theycalledmeacurse]

Thanks for taking it seriously. Most people wouldn't.

[ And honestly, it means a hell of a lot to her that he is. Because it would be terrifying to any closeted mutant, especially a kid still coming to grips with who they are. ]

[rickitikitarr]

Sure, but the first Moonbeam I meet, you owe me a drink.

[He says, playfully, like she's making up for an imaginary favour.]

[theycalledmeacurse]

[ She laughs at that, an actual laugh that bursts out of her and feels strange but so good. There haven't been many reasons to laugh lately, and she appreciates this one more than she can say. ]

Deal, though I can't guarantee it'll be a good one. The bar here is a bit lacking.