☆ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ 02 ☆

[statusreport]

Welcome, cadets! Wanna dip your toes in the pool? Have a new character you wanna try out? Interested in the setting but not sure if your character's a good fit? Welcome to the second official Test Drive Meme for Illyria, for all your test drive needs! There are a few prompts for you to choose from below, or you can make up your own starter if none of the choices tickle your fancy. Threads from this meme can be counted as game canon if you like, if you apply and are accepted, so you don't have to meet someone again for the first time. Reserves are open at this time, and applications will be open September 8th thru 12th. Have fun!

☆ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛs ☆
A. Arrival: You wake up disoriented, finding yourself on what appears to be a medical bed. As you try and sit up, a young woman with blond hair pulled up in a tight bun stops you, urging you to take it easy. You were found in the cargo bay unconscious with a few other people, and while she's not sure where you came from or how you got here, you're here for the long haul, now. As you look around, you see a few other people in beds like the one you're lying on--do you recognize anyone from home? Or are these people complete strangers? Do any of them know what's going on, or how you got here? The only way to find out is to ask them!

B. Mealtime: While the Illyria has been mostly repaired, there are still some systems that aren't quite back at 100%. Unfortunately, one of these systems runs the replicators in the mess hall. Every order, no matter what you have requested, will result in a nice squirmy plate of Bithool gagh. Hope you're hungry!

C. Going up? You're not sure about these turbolift things, but it beats climbing ladders and crawling through tubes to get to the other decks. Besides, the ship is all fixed now, right? Surely you won't get stuck in it again. As you step into the lift, maybe there's someone already in there--or maybe someone steps in after you, but either way, you're not alone as the lift begins to ascend. Things seem to be going well for a moment, and then there's a loud screeching sound and the lights go dark as the lift stops dead in its shaft. Well, shit. Looks like this lift still needs a bit of work. Do you and your company try and fix the lift? Do you call for help? Do you crawl up into the shaft and try and make your way to another deck through the Jefferies tubes, possibly while humming the theme from Mission: Impossible? Who knows what peril may lie in the corridors between decks--do you take the risk, or wait to be rescued? Time to see if you're Starfleet material or not!

D. Excusez-moi? Maybe you dropped your communicator, or maybe you found the switch that makes it speak nothing but Spanish like Buzz Lightyear, but for some reason or another, your Universal Translator just isn't cutting the mustard. Be it Spanish, French, Klingon, or Vulcan, you just have no idea what this person in front of you is saying. Well, just walking away would be awfully rude, but how do you communicate with someone you can't understand??

Comments

Peter Bishop | Fringe

[consultingbishop]

Arrival

Peter Bishop jolts uncomfortably into consciousness.

He instantly tries to sit up, only to be pushed back down by the EMH as she bustles over. He blinks around, confusedly, a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach as realisation sets in, coupled with the woman's confirmation.

He's not where he was five minutes ago.

What now? Another Observer trick? Had they somehow managed to take control of the gateway again? But... none of this looked like Observer tech. Even the people around looked a lot more human-like than the uniform appearance of the Observers.

He takes in what's being said about being zapped to the future, but he's not that interested. There are priorities.

"Please." He interrupts. "I'm fine with the temporal bullshit explanation. I need to know... My dad. Walter Bishop, older guy, crazy hair, crazier personality... Then my wife... Olivia. Tall, blonde... Damn... and the boy... Michael. Small... Bald. Doesn't speak." He pauses, managing to calm himself down after a moment. "I... I need to know if they're here or not."

Mealtime

Peter stares down at the plate, frowning slightly. This is what they were serving in the future? To be honest, he was expecting pills or something.

He'd prefer pills.

"Well... When in Rome." He mutters, stabbing a fork into the plate, scooping some up and into his mouth. He grimaces slightly at the taste.

Repairman Wildcard!

So, if Peter Bishop was anything, he'd call himself resourceful.

He'd taught himself how to use the LCARS system in about a day, and from then it was just a case of inducting himself around the various systems on-board... Without getting caught. Easier said than done.

Of course, with the ship's systems in such dissary, it's quite easy to bypass what little Security protocols remain. Thus, Mr. Bishop will be found in many areas at various times, working away on the LCARS displays that still worked, hell, even getting down and working on the isolinear systems below the panels to try and get things working.

This ship was his only ticket home. He needed to get it working again.