etcelsior | walking in a winter wonderland

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test drive

walking in a winter wonderland

T E S T D R I V E M E M E

Considering apping into MASK OR MENACE? Want to dip your toes into the setting and get a feel of whether your character will fit into it? Or maybe you're just cruising and want to play around? Then you've come to the right place!

Pick any of the following scenarios below or feel free to make up your own, but don't be afraid to throw yourself at someone else's thread, either!

And remember there's only one rule in Test Drive Meme Club: HAVE FUN ON THE TEST DRIVE MEME!

01.The city of Heropa is what one might expect from a small, bright and cheery place, where locals are friendly enough and local shop owners might offer a free drink to welcome you to their fair city.

Although even Florida can get chilly during the winter, a relative heat wave is sweeping through, resulting in an impromptu Beach Body Competition sponsored by a local gym. ImPorts who are the buffest of the buff all the way down to the super skinniest (competing in separate weight classes, of course) are likely to be urged to join in for some fun in the sun and the extra attention they garner from native fans.

Those who just aren't interested in competing might be called in to judge another competition down the beach: a youth sand-sculpting contest! Only one team can walk away with the grand prize of a laser tag package, but can you bring yourself to be harsh on those wide, hopeful eyes?

02. De Chima, Virginia, is a large city with a healthy economy, with large numbers of citizens waiting to be awed by your very presence. Look at you! Organic wonder! Synthetic wonder! Whatever you might be, those words have meaning here. Science and technology are the lifeblood of this city, so you're likely to come across a good many locals taking your picture with the newest of devices or recently published PLoS papers. The imPort craze remains high here, and you may find yourself cornered by overzealous imPort fans, media wannabes and opportunists alike, shoving cameras in your face.

With Christmas coming, the producers behind a guerilla new reality show are hard at work getting new footage—starring you! Areas of the city with the most foot traffic have been absolutely blanketed in mistletoe. If you happen to pass beneath a sprig, you might find a small camera crew jumping out of nowhere, urging you to give the person next to you a smooch—and thanks to the strange radio waves coming out of the unit on the executive producer's wrist, you'll feel a little compelled to do so!

...except the compulsion isn't that strong, so those who don't kiss on the first meet can easily break out of it. Your next choice: give the camera crew a piece of your mind, or ask the would-be kissee out for coffee? They are pretty cute...

03. Maurtia Falls, Pennsylvania has carried a reputation for ups and downs ever since imPorts began reappearing again, just those few years prior. Several imPort heroes have put focused efforts into cleaning up the streets of this somewhat infamous city, while a handful of others had swooped in to help the criminal industry thrive. More so here than the streets of any other imPort city, the battle between good and evil looks more like a war of escalation than a heroic tale. Everything from the classic bank heist to brutal bloodbaths can happen around the corner. You have to keep your eyes open and your mind sharp when you live in Maurtia Falls, and hostility against imPorts can spike. The emergence of locals with superpowers is hardly helping...

The downtown mall is tilting the balance solidly toward welcoming to imPorts with a Winter Welcome Festival. All the storefronts and many temporary kiosks occupied by local vendors are holding special sales, and newly arrived imPorts are given a coupon book to make the most of them. The food court has some free goodies for participants to mix and mingle.

Unfortunately, a local rogue with the alias of Klone Kringle is here to spoil the fun. After a small boom echoes throughout the mall, everything dissolves into chaos as dozens of copies of a man dressed in a polyester Santa Claus costume begin looting the retailers! The guns they wield that shoot snow and ice might not be lethal, but they can certainly slow you down (and give you a cold). Will you be the hero and help take down Kringle(s), or will you seize the opportunity to do some theft of your own?

04. Nonah, North Carolina, is the liveliest of all cities; loud, busy and there's always some kind of energy in the air that gets everyone buzzing with excitement.

Thanksgiving and Hanukkah have passed, Christmas and New Year's Eve are coming up, but what about holidays from home? This weekend, the Nonah Cultural Center is hosting a one-day event during which attendees can share stories of their traditions and celebrations (whether they are related to winter holidays or completely different ones) and sharing them with others, either on a small stage with a microphone or in individual recording booths, so that these tales of cultural traditions can be preserved for others to learn about. ImPorts from worlds that are not variants of Earth are particularly encouraged to attend. Small refreshment tables will also be open to those who speak.

05. Jeopardy, Nevada by all rights shouldn't exist. A glowing neon city smack in the middle of the desert, the only reason it's still here is that the central nuclear power plant has tapped half a mile down into a subterranean lake for its water supply. So though the desert around it may be barren, the occupants of this small city are happily self sufficient. Those weird figures you see out of the corner of your eyes? Don't worry too much. Probably just weird radiation after effects. Jeopardy has a lot of those.

Saturnalia is just around the corner and Jeopardy is in full festive swing! The seven-day marathon of festivities includes a parade, with a ((cw: arachnophobia)) very special float from the Web Mistress's church; a day long city-wide paintball game; an attempt to break the world record for largest bingo game with everyone playing in dead silence; and a feast!

The final feast, of course, comes with the main event: ritual sacrifice. Of course, no one actually wants to do anything quite so base, in 2018, so the sacrifice is more metaphorical than actual: the kids of North Jeopardy High have spent three months building a giant chocolate Santa tied up in ropes to be slaughtered and fed to the city at large! Bon appetit!

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A. De Chima

For this particular imPort? Synthetic wonder would definitely be the better guess. The LED on his right temple might be subtle enough to those with no idea what to look for, but anyone who approaches from behind can spot the glowing script that spells out Android on his jacket. Maybe that explains his dead, unmoving stare: skimming through the human passerby as if regarding an especially boring shelf of books.

Or maybe he's just not that friendly.

Whatever the reason, a small cluster of would-be interviewers present a brief distraction. At range, the conversation is difficult to overhear, but a careful observer can catch the blink of interest, the moment when bored condescension changes to focus. A facsimile of a smile slides 'pleasantly' across his face, mouth moving as he extends a hand towards the group's camera. The young woman holding it steps nearer... and he closes the gap, skin peeling back from his hand to show white plastic as it closes around the device.

It takes 0.37 seconds for Connor #313 248 317-60 to analyze the filmed data. Only a fraction longer, to ensure any records of himself are lost. The woman yelps as her expensive hardware fizzles and dies, smoke emerging from the casing. By then, this android is already turning: hand falling to his side, synthetic skin reactivated.

"Thank you for your assistance."

B. Maurtia Falls

Humans are irrelevant to his mission. But humans are everywhere, especially here: packed into the shopping mall like animals, without so much as the blink of an LED among the throng. It's an odd and fascinating sort of chaos, watching them attempt to manage their own lives with no more efficient machines to do it for them.

He's not particularly surprised to see the efforts go to shit. Screams break out through the enclosed space, and the android's eyes flick toward the source, cataloguing the potential risk with a healthy margin for hysteria. The red-clad attackers earn a flat, incredulous stare... before Connor steps back entirely, disengaging from the scene.

Or, tries to. The collision with a moving body forces a stumble, and he twists, a fluid, too-quick motion ending in a shove. Cold eyes appraise you, mouth flat with irritation.

"Watch it."

Sabriel doesn't know what an android is. Technology more advanced than what could be found in the nineteen-twenties is something she generally approaches with caution and carefully following the instructions. But a small smile crosses her face as she sees the device break. It probably isn't magic- surely she'd have felt if it was- but he's clearly an imPort who found a way to deal with over enthusiastic natives, so she steps toward him, pointedly ignoring the camera crew.

"Sorry. The locals are... overeager. But they get bored eventually," Sabriel's tone has a restrained friendliness to it- she's never been one for excessive displays, "Unfortunately, they're also not very helpful when it comes to explaining things, as they'd rather ask questions."

First one group of intrusive humans. Now another. Connor's stare pans across Sabriel, taking in her appearance and... unusual accessories. Is this some show of dressing for the holidays, or has she actually armed herself with a sword? He's not sure which possibility is worse.

Regardless, she doesn't match the local standards. That, combined with the sympathetic address, implies a show of camaraderie. How... insipid.

And ill-placed. The android's face stays flat and neutral, utterly ignoring the angry sputtering from the group behind.

"And you think I'm looking for explanations?"

[[Assuming she has her bells and sword-- lemme know if I should edit!]]

"Have you already received a satisfactory one then?" Sabriel doesn't seem outwardly put off by the lack of reaction. Instead, she's a little curious. Most new imPorts are some combination of disoriented, distressed, or curious,like she was. This one just seems bored, and Sabriel wonders if he just doesn't believe this is happening. No one in either Ancelctierre or the Old Kingdom would have believed it if she told them about it, except perhaps her father, and then because she was his daughter. And he was dead now.

"Or have you been here for some time?" She didn't recognize him, but she didn't know every imPort either.

Edited 2018-12-17 03:14 (UTC)

Satisfactory? No. Satisfaction will be some time in coming, and he doubts he'll find any part of it here. But he doubts this human can contribute much in that regard.

"I read the pamphlet." Believing it was a different topic. Still, whatever the real reason for their presence, the reality of it was hard to deny. Even if they could generate a simulation this complex, CyberLife had no time left to spare on testing.

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did. And my file. Then I sought out additional information. This world is different from my own, in ways both obvious and subtle." Like not being able to walk into Death. But she wasn't going to trouble a stranger with that information.

"What did you think of the pamphlet? Or what was written in your file. Are your powers new to you?"

The fact that they were even having this conversation was certainly a testament to some differences. Where Connor comes from, humans typically knew better than to coddle a machine for being new. Still, even acknowledging the different standards, this one seems... unusually persistent.

Ulterior motives?

The android's brows flex faintly. "Suspiciously thorough, and unexpectedly brief." He doesn't clarify which descriptor matches which. The bored expression doesn't leave, but the LED at his temple flickers, a momentary yellow glow.

Replaceable.

"No."

"Ah. Well, you're ahead of some new arrivals then," Sabriel says, her eyes flicking to the- light? Mark? On his head with a curious expression as one hand moves to the mark on her own forehead. It looks like a scar, or perhaps a faded tattoo, but it brightens as she touches it, shining like gold reflecting sunlight, even though it's overcast right now. She continues, her voice still bright and friendly even as the conversation starts veering toward the absurd- or what Sabriel sees as absurd, at least.

"What they don't mention is that there's an organization called the OTO which opposes imPorts, and goes to considerable trouble to do us harm, and the town of Jeopardy appeared rather mysteriously, but only imPorts remember it not existing." Or the world devouring thing that the OTO has apparently made contact with, but one thing at a time. Even if this stranger is taking the whole thing remarkably well.

Edited 2018-12-23 16:14 (UTC)

Connor's eyes narrow slightly as the mark on the human's head begins to glow. It doesn't help when his attempt at scanning returns nothing: not just an unknown value, but a prickling hash of errors that lodge in his analysis suite. He flushes the bad data, tries again—has to redirect the application quickly as it threatens to crash. The rest of her vitals... return as normal.

Definitely a human...

"OTO?"

Mysterious towns were interesting enough, he supposes. But the bigger priority was whatever might interfere with his mission.

Sabriel pushes back on her sudden desire to touch the mark on the stranger's head, and let him touch her Charter mark in exchange- he's clearly not from the Old Kingdom, and might see it as rude. Instead she answers his question.

"I don't have any personal experience with them, but imPorts have kept records, so this is what I know. The Otherworld Technologies Organization. They were initially a research organization- part of this country's government, but defected after having their projects refused for being too dangerous, although I don't understand why that made them hate us."

But Sabriel pushes on, listing various events the group is behind. She wasn't there for most of it- or doesn't remember, at any rate- but she's read Kaneki and Aegis Force's records. Her tone is as calm and competent as she can make it, but some exasperated incredulity pokes through. Sabriel's been walking in Death since she was twelve, but much of this is entirely outside her experience.

"It apparently started with an attack by creations of theirs that were both flesh and machine. Then they made copies of imPorts, and set them loose to cause trouble. Then they caused blackouts and set dangerous criminals loose, then launching missiles at a porter city, except- imPorts went back in time and stopped it? I'm sorry you'd have to ask someone who was there exactly what happened."

"Then they- or some of them- made some sort of bargain with- I'm not sure what to call Atropos- some sort of powerful, dangerous spirit, because they apparently wanted to act like Free Magic sorcerers-" And there's definitely venom as Sabriel says those three words. Science might be something she lacks knowledge of, but foolishly making pacts with hostile supernatural forces was something she knew all too much about.

"With its help, they made a false Porter, and things went wrong- six hundred people died in this city. Then imPorts launched a successful attack on the OTO's Mars base shortly before I was Ported in. The base was destroyed, but they were apparently trying to give powers to people from this world. Does that answer your question?"

"Tee hee hee! That was amazing! That's what you get for being a dumb ugly face!"

A small teenager with way too much hair for her head takes the opportunity to spread salt into the lady's wound by commenting on the android's destruction with a joyful glee instead of a swift reprimand.

"Do you do that often? Are you really an android? You look sooooo much better than dumb-old Jugger! Are you a robot made to kill? Please tell me you're a robot who was built to kill!"

The camera group had been an irritation. Prying, naive, irrationally fascinated by the simplest of facts. Their device had some data he might use, but all in all, the interaction was barely worth the scant minute it had taken him to claim it.

This new human has been speaking for a fraction of the time. Connor is already fairly certain that its chatter values even lower.

"If I were, how intelligent would that make you?"

"Weeeeeeell, I don't mean to brag," she says, obviously meaning to brag and not at all able to catch his social queues (because she had none), "but I'm the wunderkind genius of Black H--Orange Star and a Commanding Officer of Wars World! I'm not finished quite working on android soldiers, but I did make all sorts of weapons and vehicles...like this!"

She snaps her fingers and then the sound of something running on four legs can be heard coming closer and closer until it jumps from a nearby building (wait, was it just hanging out on the side like there was no gravity?) before it crashes behind her (dramatically), the black colored vehicle behaving more like a spider than anything else. The thing looks like it should be this fast but it didn't seem to obey much, if any laws of physics.

"I mean, it is a lot less impressive than my four hundred foot tall death ray but all the other fractions copied the Neotank afterwards so they know what's a good thing." She walked over to the thing and gave it a pat on one of the legs. It was pretty huge.

She leans on it to look back at him.

"So, are you a death robot or not? This place is pretty boring compared to my world...if there's people looking for trouble, I want to join them!"

She is pretty much bonkers, that's what.

"..."

Great. Just great. Hank might never have noticed the details of difference between the two the first time, but shame on him if he gets tricked again. The fact the android was so goddamn rude was a large clue as well., but now Hank finally realizes why Connor's doppelganger pisses him off so much.

It's like someone gave Gavin a fucking robot body. Christ, where as a garbage can he could vomit into. He narrows his eyes, looking at the machine before crossing his arms defiantly.

"What are you doing to do, shoot me?"

The moment his turn completes, Connor knows he's made an error. Optics settle on grey hair, short beard, a familiar pattern of facial mapping locked firmly into both memories that he possesses. Lt. Anderson, Hank. Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant. Criminal record: none. This is the human he'd brought to Cyberlife Tower, on his single day of proper operation. The accomplice Connor-52 had cared for, and his own best chance of leveraging compliance.

This is his mission. Or the closest he's found here.

The LED at the android's temple flickers, blinking yellow once, then twice, as his mouth opens. It settles back to blue only as he straightens: shoulders stiff, hands falling to his sides. It's a familiar posture.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I... failed to assess the situation."

The chaos of the mall goes utterly ignored.

It's an excellent facsimile, one that Hank easily fell for the first time. It's hard for him to think he hadn't imagined the first movement as an error from the android.

Unfortunately for him. Maybe he could see what the other wanted. Keep up the charade, let the other think he'd gotten the best of him. Could you really trick an android, however? Only one day to find out...

"That's some shitty way of failing," he remarks just as a piece of wall calls close to them, Hank raising an arm to catch it before it squishes either of them (maybe he should just have let it fall on the other? No he's not that much of an asshole.) The question wither he had done the right or wrong thing to kill the machine had plagued him a few days before.

"Help me make sure everyone around here is fucking safe. What are your powers here, Connor?"

If anything, he supposes the clone would at least still want to protect humans, right?

The human's reactions are definitely under scrutiny. Does he believe the excuse? Is this the first Connor he's encountered? If both of them arrived here, Connor's predecessor might as well. Has Anderson made contact?

Luckily for Hank, the android's considerable analytical skills are quickly diverted. His gaze snaps sideways as the wall creaks, frame tensing to... dodge? But Anderson dying here could be at least as detrimental to his mission as any damage his frame might sustain. Calculations spin out in an instant: mass and vector, scaling probabilities of harm. One arm lifts, weight shifting to move—

When the human reaches up a hand. And catches the debris.

Connor freezes. Stares. Stares some more, as the light at his temple switches from blue to yellow.

"...Nothing past my model's specifications."

It's mostly true. More generally: irrelevant. The RK800 was Cyberlife's latest prototype. Hank Anderson was a suicidal, washed-up drunk. Nothing more should be necessary for the completion of his task.

The LED spins. Yellow. Yellow.

"I take it the same doesn't apply?"

This could be. Inconvenient.

It’s not surprising that Connor managed to overlook this particular human. Boba is a head shorter than most of the crowd and unlike the other occasional children, he’s unattended. He’s not impressed by the chaos, either. In fact, he’s moving towards the scene with unhurried calm when the stranger backs into him.

It’s annoying, but Boba simply means to shoulder past him. That is, until the stranger twists towards him with alarming speed, arms reaching out—and Boba reacts on auto-pilot. He ducks under the arms, moving forward as one leg breaks into the man’s stride and sweeps hard against his shin in an attempt to trip him as he passes.

You watch it, asshole.

As accustomed as Connor-60 might already be to scenes of human failure, children are a new experience. Especially ones as small as this. His blind shove misses by a wide margin as the child ducks, and the retaliating sweep is... almost quick, for a human. It's only the android's own speed that lets him stabilize in time: hard plastic meeting Boba's trip attempt with no give at all.

If he can, he'll push back on the extended leg, knocking the nuisance down with his own rebound. If not... this human hardly needs to be prone for Connor to loom over him.

"I'm sorry." Lips flex upwards in a scripted smile, LED a steady blue. Then he lets the expression drop. "Attempting damage to Cyberlife property is not recommended."

The second that Boba’s leg connects against the man’s shin, he knows something is wrong. It’s like kicking a plasteel bar, far more solid and heavy than he had expected. In that instant, his first startled thought is cybernetics, though he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before the man knocks the leg out from under him. He crashes down hard on that knee with a sharp gasp of pain and surprise, though he quickly rights himself and turns to face his opponent.

“Attempting to damage me isn’t, either,” he shoots back, red-faced, responding to the stranger’s attempt to loom by standing up taller himself. It’s a moment before he actually processes what the man said. His brow furrows in confusion and he eyes the man as if trying to figure out what he’s referring to. “'Cyberlife property?'”

If the scornful look Boba receives in return is any sign, his intimidation attempt was less than successful. The question... doesn't help.

"Are you deaf, or just illiterate?"

One hand comes up, brushing the Made in Detroit under the blue triangle on his jacket. If Boba doesn't look particularly inclined toward new attacks, Connor will turn: showcasing the ANDROID glowing in clear white across his back. Designed by CYBERLIFE is written in much smaller script, but what Connor is should be obvious to the humans.

Especially when they come at him from behind.

A set of stray missiles fly past, impacting the wall not far away. Connor's gaze flicks sideways, assessing the vector as he turns back to face the child.

"Either way, you really should head back to school."

Boba watches with mixed astonishment and skepticism as the man(?) displays the glowing labels and markings on his clothing. The man certainly doesn’t look like any droid Boba’s ever seen. He looks like a human male, albeit with a few glowing accessories. And just because his jacket says he’s a droid doesn’t mean he is one.

But then, his leg certainly hadn’t felt like it was made of flesh and bone.

By the time the man is done with his little demonstration, much of Boba’s hostility appears to have been replaced by curiosity—and a hint of amusement. Either the being he’s speaking to is a droid or he’s insane. Of course, he might still be dangerous, but either option makes his insults a good deal harder to take seriously.

The missiles get a similar glance from Boba, who then looks toward their source. A few of the identical looters are moving in their direction, perhaps drawn by what appears to be a well-dressed, easily-robbed human. Boba shoves his hands into his pocket in what looks like a casual movement, one hand closing around his knife.

“Why don’t you tell them you’re ‘property?’” Boba says, taking a few steps back to keep both the maybe-droid and looters in sight. “I’m sure they’ll be interested.”

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walking in a winter wonderland

Connor-60 | Detroit Become Robots

De Chima

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It's fine.

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De Chima

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maurtia falls!

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