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illyria_ooc2016-06-17 01:20 am
statusreport) wrote in illyria_ooc2016-06-17 01:20 am
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☆ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ 01 ☆
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 first 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. 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: The Illyria isn't a big ship, so the mess hall isn't very large, but there's room for a few tables with chairs, and there's a bank of replicators along one of the walls. You can ask for anything you want, from a simple cup of coffee to turducken to some nice fresh gagh. Looks like some other new arrival is having some trouble with their machine, though. Gonna give them a hand? Or maybe you've gotten your plate of food, but the only open seat is at an occupied table--perhaps introductions are in order. Mingle! These are going to be your crewmates for a long time, it seems.
C. Going up? Man, this ship is a mess! That trip across all those galaxies sure did a good job wrecking things. You're not sure about these turbolift things, but it beats climbing ladders and crawling through tubes to get to the other decks. 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, now what? Do you and your company try and fix the lift? Do you try and call for help? Do you crawl up into the shaft and try and make your way to another deck through the Jefferies tubes? 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!
no subject
"A few things..." he finally said, that charming twinkle back in his eye.
"One. What's a Bajoran? Two, what's duranium? Three, ditto polyduranide, which I'm assuming is some sort of polymer woven out of the aforementioned duranium."
He leaned up against the wall, giving her his third best flirtatious look, wondering if she'd take the bait.
"Four, how do I take you up on that earlier offer of you telling me how everything works? And finally, five...can I replicate you a drink?"
no subject
She regarded him coolly as he rattled off his series of questions. He was obviously being a flirt, but Imania couldn't really fault him for a little harmless banter. Besides, it had been a while since she'd gotten that look from anyone--it was a bit flattering. Once he was through with his inquiries, she paused for just a moment, then held up one hand, lifting a finger with each answer.
"One, a race of people from the planet Bajor. Two, an extremely strong metal used in starship hull construction. Three, another metallic substance, used for lighter-grade construction. Four, you ask nicely, and finally, five..." She hesitated briefly, then chuckled. "You could take a wild guess how I like my coffee, if you're feeling lucky."
She was, of course, happy to discuss Bajor and duranium and even how the replicators worked--she had always been pleased by a curious mind unafraid to ask questions--but if he was going to be blatantly forward, she was at least going to make him follow through.
wow okay never got this notif so sorry
"Computer? Please prepare Captain Palu's usual coffee order."
And sure enough, a second later the light coalesced and swirled into her preferred brew, at exactly the right temperature. And the score so far: Tony fifteen, Imania love, ball's back in your court.
"And I'll have a vodka tonic."
Another swish and slight singing noise (seriously, how did this thing work?!) and a cool, fizzy drink appeared next. Well, at least Tony had his wits about him in this glorious future.
"Now. Will you please explain the engineering behind all of this?" he said, gesturing at the entire ship with one hand.
Not a problem!
She accepted the mug from him, chuckling lightly and shaking her head.
"You know, you're the first person who's actually been sharp enough to try that," she said, giving him an appraising look. "Well done, Mister Stark." She took a sip of the coffee and savored it for just a moment, then regarded Tony coolly. "To explain the engineering behind all of it would take far longer than I can spare at the moment. Besides, one of my engineering staff could probably explain it better, anyway. The replicators, however, are fairly simple. They utilize transporter technology to deconstruct and reconstruct matter. It pulls from a bulk matter reservoir, deconstructs the matter on a molecular level, and then reconstructs it as whatever you've asked for." She held up the coffee in demonstration, then took another sip before continuing. "It can also work in reverse, deconstructing leftovers and dishes to add back to the bulk reserve."
She smiled a bit slyly then. If he was from the 21st century, then he wouldn't know...
"How does that vodka tonic taste?" she asked, lifting her eyebrows. Most people couldn't tell the difference between synthehol and real alcohol--she certainly couldn't--but perhaps the 21st century palate was more discerning.
no subject
Frowned.
Listened to her explanations closely, of course. Figured that he'd be better off chatting with a fellow engineering egghead rather than the captain of the ship. Wanted to clarify what the hell transporter technology was, because that sounded equally fascinating, frankly.
But he was distracted.
"It's not a vodka tonic," he said, holding the glass out, arms-length, turning it to catch the light. "There's no vodka in it. Oh, god. Don't tell me you've done away with alcohol in the future, I'll cry."
Sorry to keep you waiting, work has been hell
"Done away with? Hardly," she said, chuckling. "There probably would have been a universal revolt if Starfleet had tried that." She sipped her coffee and smiled gently. "It's called synthehol," she said. "Invented by the Ferengi, it looks and tastes like real alcohol--or so most people pledge, anyway--but the human body can metabolize the enzymes in synthehol without the intoxicating effects of regular alcohol."
She paused a moment, for dramatic effect, and then arched one eyebrow with a thin grin.
"Kind of takes the fun out of it, if you ask me," she said. "Obviously alcohol still exists, but the replicators can't make the real stuff. It's considered a toxic substance, and they won't produce anything known to be harmful to any species on board." She shrugged one shoulder. "Safety regulations, you understand. I'd hate to see a grown man cry, though," she said, "so I'll let you in on a little secret: we have two Ferengi crew members, and they always seem to have some of the real deal in stock somehow." She sipped at her coffee again. "I hope you're a skilled negotiator, though."
PFFT me too, girl. Esp, summer time, I work in a theme park
Because Tony had exactly two experiences with alien races. Thor and Loki as Asgardians....and the Chitauri. So. He wasn't prejudiced. He wasn't. Except for the fact that two out of three above wanted to conquer his planet and kill and enslave all of humanity. So.
"As for skill in negotiations...well. I don't want to toot my own horn, but I'm worth a couple hundred billion back where I'm from. Dollars, I mean. Don't tell me, money is an archaic concept and American dollars are worth approximately nothing at all. Dollars, vodka...everything's watered down, huh? A post-scarcity society? Especially since I can get any food I want from a replicator?"
goodness, talk about a high-impact job!!
She blinked at him then, and made a sound of understanding.
"Ah, a... 'billionaire'," she said, looking a bit pleased she knew the right term. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid you're at least half right: in the 24th century, money as you understand it does still exist, but the accumulation of wealth and material possessions are no longer a driving force in society. Today we measure richness in how much we have aided others and contributed to the betterment of the Federation and peace."
She blew out a sigh and rubbed at the back of her neck uncomfortably.
"That being said, we're nowhere near Federation space, wherever we are," she said, "so I'm sure this won't be the case on any planets or space stations we may come across. We're likely going to have to figure out some means of bartering with natives if we stand a chance of resupplying or repairing the ship. That, however, is a bridge to be crossed when reached. In the meantime, your lodging, food, and clothing will all be provided for you here on board the ship," she said. "You'll have no need for money for necessities here."