test drive | 1

[unplug]

test drive

Welcome to the first test drive for Systemwide! We are excited to have you. All prospective players are welcome to tag in and test out their characters, be they unplugged or free born. We would like to offer a range of scenarios that can be expected during gameplay, which are also useable prompts for app samples, and of course, if something else about the setting strikes you, feel free to come up with your own!

Please put your character name and canon in your subject line, and indicate which prompt you are launching from.

simulation | maybe this is your first time. perhaps you've been here countless times. it's a room, as confined as a boxing ring, as expansive as a battle field, whatever you need it to be, whatever you're here to train for.

1.

Before you is a city of rooftops, empty of human life. This is a safe place, because while it may hurt you, at least it won't kill you. Perhaps you are practicing your influence over reality, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Are you successful, or are you failing to free your mind? Perhaps you're helping someone else overcome their fear of heights.

And of course, an operator can always load up some Agent-like training programs to make it interesting.

2.

Congratulations, you know kung-fu, or maybe some other system of combat, like crazy parkour archery, cartwheeling with guns, or sword fighting on horse back. Perhaps you're trying out something even more fantastic, a magical skill or a superpower.

Show me. Or a friend.

mission | whether on board a ship or with your mind sunk deep into a Matrix, you will have to join the battle eventually. sometimes things go terribly wrong. what are you gonna do about it?

3.

Something's gone wrong with this extraction.

There's a lot of information to process. Your target's been extracted, and that's the good news -- your ship, in reality, is heading to their location now -- but the bad news is your team has been scattered. You could be anywhere within this Matrix, deep in the jungle, or lost on a subway train, or staggering out of the crashing waves of a night time beach, and the operator needs a minute to figure out your exact location before they can direct you to a port out of here, or send another operative to collect you.

All you have to do is stay alive for that long. Easy, right?

4.

You were warned of this. You've been prepared in endless simulations, with a dozen cautionary tales, training sessions with the EMP. Still, it's nothing like you imagined, when the operator shouts: "Sentinel closing in at seven o' clock. It's gaining."

And then the shriek of metal.

reality | as much as many Matrixes are designed to be a comfort, you have to face the real world sometime. or maybe this is the world you have only ever known.

5.

Annual celebrations are rare to come by, but the anniversary of Neo's Truce is one that always draws in the crowd. The event takes place in a massive cavern in Zion known as the Temple, and there is music, and there is dancing [a little NSFW].

Everyone is there.

Where are you?

6.

The wind on your face, up here on the desolate surface, tastes bitter, different to what it feels like in a simulated reality. It's freezing cold and always dark, but sometimes, you need a reminder about what it is you're fighting for. Or maybe you're seeing the wasteland of Earth for the first time.

Either way, you shouldn't be out here for too long. The machines might find you.

wildcard | choose your own adventure.

7.

Perhaps you're riding with the Dothraki, or sitting under the Sorting Hat for the first time. Maybe the pleather bodysuit is pinching under your armpits as the traffic of the 90's roars by, or the Nova Empire's sprawling city glitters, towering above you. Maybe you're showing someone around the place you called home for your entire fictional life.

Or perhaps it's nothing as fantastical as that: the Council meeting droned on for two hours, and you're just happy to be home, even if it's a tiny enclosure with rust-edged furniture. Maybe someone's coming over for lunch, and there are real greens in the protein slurry today; maybe you're about to ask to join a crew.

There are infinite worlds to explore, but try to remember that only one of them is real.

Comments

NOBODY LIKES A TATTLE TALE NOW DO THEY?

[systemwizard]

The 'whoop' was perpetuated, Captain's voice as big as the rest of them as they proceeded to use the anchor point of Derfie's arms to kick up a storm -- literally. The coppertop had proceeded to thrust their legs up and out to either side, kicking will-he nil-he at nearby dancers with slippers (those best afforded on short notice to one with such behemoth feet, given that combat boots were on short notice for such sizes.)

If one was familiar with Cossack-style traditional dances, they'd note a terrible rendition going on right about now. Captain's 'whoop's had turned into 'hohp's to the bass beat of the massive dance floor, and their legs bounced one to the other in time with the music. Their arms, firmly crossed over their chest as they grinned with a regal wall-eyed superiority up at Derfie, remained out of the action until a nearby crescendo caused the Captain to spring forward and upright again, at which point they minced into a lumbering spin back and forth, clapping their fingertips to their thumbs over and over as though holding tiny thimble chimes.

This, of course, morphed into a proactive dance display: they spun three times, unwrapping the only vestige of reddish clothing on their body in the form of the ratty pants secured about their neck, and came out of the horrifically dizzying move bellowing, "toro!" as though this was some sort of coy invitation for Derfie to challenge their dance prestige. By now a nice little ring of empty space surrounded them: nobody wanted to be wailed upon by this red-faced enthusiast!

Well then how about a twirl tail instead! /shakes rump

[derfegertz]

This wasn't entirely the strangest dancefloor proposition Derfie had ever been a part of, but so far it was ranking up there! She'd had to back off a little and regather when her arms had been freed up again, but as far as the blonde was concerned it was good fun -- she was clapping with the beat and laughing at the spin, until the Captain focused on her again.

Thankfully, it was a cultural reference that Derfie was aware of, though if she hadn't already been herself red with exertion she would have flushed at being thrust into the role of the bull! But she was game, it seemed like good sport!

Therefore the waving pants saw the Dragonchaser's operator lowering her head, trotting forward in a sprightly step to the beat to 'charge' them.

EXCELLENT! YOUR PASSPORT TO CAPTANIA REQUIRES THE STATUS OF 'BACKUP DANCER'! ACCEPTED!

[systemwizard]

As might be predicted, Captain flung the pants-scarf up and over Derfie as she trotted forward, the flourish they gave nearly causing their frumpy hat to fly from from their head. (It had been stretched by a girthy mop-wig prior to the poor, poor ship that had brought this loon in landing in Zion and ejecting Captain into the unsuspecting populace. It was bound to eventually be lost in this ruckus.)

"View the power of our milkshakes, Beyla! Look upon ye mighty works and weep!" True to their mad yelling, people had gathered around the ring not to dance, but to watch and even clap in time to the makeshift tauromachia being performed. It might not be as exciting as the bacchanal hip-grinding happening a few people-piles over, but it was at least unusual!

Captain waited until Derfie had reached the periphery of their clear space, and then, pants-flapping wildly a couple of times, bellowed, "toro! Toro I say!!"

reality;

[unguard]

[ From just behind her, a little ways off to her right, a familiar voice drifts in from the otherwise silent landscape. Most of the time this place is subjected to howling winds. Now, possibly just because Clarke set foot here, things are silent. ]

It's dead.

[ He says, voice devoid of emotion, a flat fact, seemingly emotionless commentary about the state of the earth. Now that he's drawn attention to himself he moves forward to stand beside her, eyes on the barren wastes, arms crossed unhappily over his chest. ]

I don't know if it's just this continent, just this area, but either way. Dead.

[ There's a note of finality in his tone. Unless they somehow manage to get a ship, to fly across the ocean to the north american continent they're used to, they're never going to know whether or not the place they'd come from was dead as well. It might as well be, considering how unattainable it is.

He glances down at her finally for the first time since they've both arrived, lips pursing. Her hair's shorter- then again, everyone's was, starting out, fresh from the pods. It's weird to think they never really knew each other. It's weird to think that their minds just shared the same delusion, the same fantasy, but they've never actually physically touched one another. That everything they went through together wasn't real.

If they're not co-leaders, if they're not ARK survivors, if they're not members of the fallen hundred, what are they to one another? Really? Do they really even know each other, considering their reality was total bullshit?

Part of him thinks so, apparently, because part of him is so happy to see her. ]

[starbucker]

Not... They weren't exactly the same. Some of them were made to look just like people. They destroyed our homes, irradiated the colonies, made us turn tail and run, then tried to hunt down the survivors. That whole history of Zion--that was our story, but I didn't just wake up to it. I lived it.

[ All this has happened before and will happen again. The cyclicacity of the Matrixes. The Agents and their perpetual resurrection. To wake up and find herself in the same war that she'd lived and died for had almost been too much, and Kara still hadn't come to terms with it; probably never would. ]

Here. You wanted to see what I do in here. [ Girl has issues. ] Operator? Load up Kara-Two Delta.

[ The program shivers and changes, the scene outside the window becomes the camps of New Caprica, all gray, canvas tents and barbed wire. There's the sound of a door opening, and then a Leoben model enters, proceeding down the stairs. He freezes when Kara says: ]

Halt simulation.

[starbucker]

So manly [ she scoffed. ] You need me to fetch your teddy, too?

[ She rolled a knot out of her shoulder, one hand braced against the collarbone as she twisted it, then stepped around him. ]

Well considering I used the wall to crush that second to last squid, the hull probably needs machine guts scraped off it to fly right. Then there's the bilateral alignment of the forward pads. The angle's too low, I'm not getting enough spin.

If we're really out of bullets, we're going to have to be able to run faster.

Re: pour toujours mon bon garcon~~~*~

[mrsnippy]

"Ow." He jabbed a sharp finger into Captain's shoulder for that slap in a futile attempt to remind Captain that pain actually existed in the real world. His expression soured further at the mission.

"I'm meant to be up on the flight deck in an hour." He groused, before his lips curled up in a sneaky smirk. He'd spotted a way he might be able to work this stupid mission in his favour. He let his anger go in order to wheedle.

"But Captain, do you really want your emissary to be running about in socks? No one's going to want to be your subject if they think you don't even let us have shoes." Had he consciously remembered about his lack of a mask, he might have been able to keep his face from giving him away.

[repetitio]

In my dream, we won the war — and then I got unplugged. ( she doesn't regret that or wish that things had gone differently. she's a soldier, and war's war.

if nothing else, she's good at it.

dryly: ) That's impressive. ( this looks pretty bad already. )

[systemwizard]

"Silly Snippy, boots are for inglorious noobs! You!" They pause, clapping the man by both shoulders and giving him a vigorous shake, "are a ninja among sheep! Skulk and frown your way to success!" There was a very real risk that Snippy was about to have his cheeks joggled by pinching fingers in a way that the Captain had rarely had chance to do in their false memories of wastelands past.

"You are playing on Insane Mode, my littlest humbug, so stretch your quarters out! Your boots are in a transformative state and haven't been unlocked yet! Come again!"

Slamming the door in Snippy's face, the Captain paused and tapped their finger to their lips several times, then swung the door violently open again: "with mein sceptre!" Hopefully the second slam didn't put Snippy's nose out too much. The embassy was still on shaky legs.

[derfegertz]

One charge in and Derfegertz was now invested in the game. Laughing, she turned when she reached the edge of their open space and (helped along by some friendly pushes to her back) gathered herself. Again the specifics of the Captain's mad tirade slipped by but she caught the gist, the vibe, the feel of the words and so squared her shoulders.

Then, letting out a "raugh!" that wasn't really fierce enough to sound like a bull proper (there was too much laugh to it) she went for the pants again. This time her impromptu dance partner would have to leap aside, at least!

[systemwizard]

When she came at them, the Captain leapt out of the way with kicked up heels, an elegant if gawky press of barish feet springing them airward and off to one side in a glorious single action. They tried for a spin, lost it, recouped the improvised dance move by collapsing into a sliding kneel across the dusty ground. The red pants had successfully swatted at Derfie's charging shoulders, but she'd taken a lot out of the coppertop.

Captain flung one finger high, raising it as though demanding a pause. Then they worked themselves upright, bringing their finger down over one hip and jutting into a discotheque pose worthy more of a sparkling white suit and a burly patch of chest-hair than moth-eaten sweats and completely ambiguous, gasping features.

Still, Captain wasn't one to be spent after a few high-falutin' dance moves, or so they thought. They minced with the red pants now, this time flapping the 'cape' neatly to either side of them and skipping from one foot to the other. It was entirely derogatory in nature: with that sort of skip-to-me-loo posturing, it was impossible to deny that they were having a little fun at Derfie's expense. "Toro, bully wully! Toro, vooly mooly!"

[derfegertz]

Derf's cheeks would have reddened further as she realized that some of the laughs were at her, but she liked to think of herself as a good sport. Perhaps it was time for the bull to catch the toreador!

As Captain skipped away from her, Derfie prepared herself for a third charge. She was panting a bit but the adrenaline just made her idea more appealing. If she could pull it off it would be funny! If she didn't, well, she'd just have to pull the strange fellow back out into the dancing mass. A party was no place for a proper wrassle, it'd ruin the mood.

So on this third response to the flapping red fabric, Derfie barrelled forward, bringing her upper body down as she did. She'd snatch the Captain around the waist, briefly hoist the giant, and perhaps win the mock-match!

[mrsnippy]

"Wha-? You!? Bwah, don't slam the door on me!" He pounded the door with his fists, getting out his frustration by bellowing out exactly how much of a lunatic he knew Captain to be. As it had been back in their shared nightmare, all the yelling really did nothing to make him feel better.

"Fine!" He eventually barked through the door. "I'm going you a sceptre and I'm going to shove it up your G-damn backside!" And with that he stomped off, muttering out an account of the confrontation to a tooth recorder that was no longer there.

[systemwizard]

Were this in the Captain's native homeland of Captania, Derfie would certainly be at a loss. Perhaps the ground before them would have been rickety, ready to collapse inward to any charging adversaries. Perhaps some elaborate pulley-system would have been prior-rigged to dump thousands of skittering marbles onto her head and under her heels.

This was not the matrix of Captain's lifetime, however, and in reality they were just as prone to surprise and victimization as any other feckless boob. They gave a huge, bellowing squawk as Derfie rammed into their kidneys, throwing their cape-pants as high as a bouquet of flowers into the crowd that was watching, and flailed like a jiggly fish. Their hollering resolved into a desperate cry: "Snippy!! Save me from this harpy!"

They then proceeded to make a raucous racket that could only be considered poorly rendered crow or raven caws, as though summoning someone in this fashion were only normal in emergency situations.

[derfegertz]

As the Captain yodeled his mysterious hullabaloo (Derfegertz had heard neither crow nor raven within her lifetime), the young lady with which he had been putting on such a performance picked him up around the middle.

It was not without effort and strain, but she had bench-pressed heavier and after all, the motion was more symbolic than anything! She let out her own cry, another ostensibly-a-bull-roar, straightening her legs and back so that the Captain was lifted more than a foot off the ground, and, as people cheered, she carefully gave a spin of her own. "Never underestimate the bull!" she laughed, short-of-breath with the effort. This one was not light!

[mrsnippy]

Snippy was getting some very close dance lessons with someone far more attractive and skimpily dressed than he'd been associating with lately when he heard his name being bellowed. He clenched his jaw, slipped his hands lower down his partner's hips and resolved to ignore the cacophony.

But then Captain's mad cawing began and he knew this was one of those moments where if he ignored it, he was going to end up with Captain leaping about him Caw Caw Cawing even if he'd already wended his way into his partner's bed. He groaned and stilled.

"I'll be back in a minute, I promise." He murmured, stealing a kiss before plunging into the crowd.

Captain wasn't hard to find, given the loudness of the caws, but the situation the big lunatic had gotten into made Snippy pause. He was not going to jump into the middle and get himself decked by a woman that buff.

"Whatever Captain did to you, I'm sorry." Because of course Captain would only have been hefted by an Amazon if she'd been wronged. He circled nearer warily, keeping his palms open. "Captain's crazy but probably meant well, so just be gentle if you need to give a beating, okay?"

[systemwizard]

When Derfie began spinning the Captain around they went limp as a noodle, arms dragging out behind them at the victorious swinging. This wasn't happening, this was simply out of the picture... so he reformatted the picture, at least in his mind. In the matrix, this had the general effect of subtly affecting the vicinity in ways that might not be perceived until long after the fact.

In the real, it amounted to their craws turning to a singular ululation as Derfie brought him around to the sight of a shortish, dark haired and scowling man cutting through the crowd. Unlike Captain, whose accent was a senseless mixture of french and german, Snippy's british whine helped to mark him as a coppertop even if he otherwise seemed well adapted to real life by now.

"Mr. Snippy!" Captain cried, voice less terrified and more joyous than it probably should have been. It was a dangerous tone to one familiar with Captain's capriciousness. Attempting to noodle out of Derfie's arms, they flapped their massive hands like a pinned bird -- not helping their case of being called crazy! "Meet my muscley native guide! She is strong like bull, but quick like bee! I've taken her on a magic carpet ride that... where is my carpet!?"

The pants-scarf in question were currently being violently twirled overhead by a sweaty dancer just on the sidelines, a victory dance all its own. Captain was tired, overstimulated, and more than a little bit manic. This was a melt-down waiting to happen. He turned his attention directly to Derfie, unbothered by the lack of distance. Kicking feebly at her shins, they exclaimed, "you were the magic carpet all along!!?"

[mrsnippy]

[His smile made it clear just how unamusing he found her jabs]

Oh, ha, ha, ha, why don't I fetch you a target to wear for when the Sentinels come?

[He didn't like anything she was telling him, but at least what she was telling him were things he might be able to resolve]

Since I've just gunned myself out of a position, I'll go throw an extra hand with the engineers.

Simon Metzger | OC

[hellbrokeloose]

[ Engineering Level ]

-- should be awake by now.

[ Metzger’s voice stirs low beneath the heft and clank of great metal teeth grinding past one another in the middle distance. Acrid steam clouds the senses; flashes of heat bleed red through closed eyes. Water rushes below, chains rattle above, bound thick about the ankles, clicking bones together and tingling at toes.

Up is down.

A grumbled swear slants into German and then abruptly back to English: ]

Throw me that bucket. [ There’s a doppler fade of boot heels striking away over steel, and then a splash.

The next splash sends half a gallon of hot water smashing up through the sinuses.

On the opposite end of it, Metzger stands scowling, expectant, with bucket in hand: wiry, compact, greying at the fringes and distinctly familiar, for anyone who’s been in Zion long enough to know what bad news looks like. He’s also flipped one-hundred-eighty degrees at belt level and just out of arm’s reach, planted safely at the end of a catwalk that terminates some feet short of the girder he’s hung his victim from.

By their feet, of course.

Assuming one were to fall, it’s difficult to tell if they would land directly in an open furnace at the end of a quarter mile drop or into the massive pool of boiling water roiling next to it. ]

[retrofire]

[ He doesn't want to wake up. Peter's dimly aware of his head throbbing, of a stiffness in his back and muffled voices, and his first stupid thought is that he's hungover. Given the chance to think back over the past few hours, he'd come to a more accurate conclusion; but before he gets that chance, the raw sting of water in his sinuses snaps him conscious.

There's a harsh rattle of chains as he tries to shake his head, ends up twisting his shoulders only to be brought up short by his own weight. It's then that his eyes open, squinting against steam and the last few trickles of water as he blows out through his nose and shakes his head again, quick, like a dog trying to get dry.

Water registers first, chains register second, upside-down is last.

Looking down is a huge mistake. He still manages to look more annoyed than scared when his eyes fix back on the figure in front of him, narrowed through the collective haze of the heat and his own head, trying to place the face— ]

Aw, shit.

[ That'd be recognition kicking in. ]

[onyourfeet]

[ A couple feet past Metzger's shoulder would be Bill Cage, who has by now turned his attention back to the man hanging from his ankles. Not a great deal younger than the man in the fore. The usual news anchor swoop of dark hair is ruffled and damp from humidity and sticking to his brow, but the rest of him seems precise, including the crescent smile broadcasted to Quill, the stamp of lines that crease at the corners of his eyes.

Friendly, for all that he seems completely complicit in Quill's predicament. He is armed, relaxed, sharply watchful. ]

Hanging in there?

[ His tone manages to achieve a balance between wry and apologetic. It's a tone that promises we'll get you down from there soon.

Probably. One way or another. ]

[hellbrokeloose]

[ Mock intrigue takes hold in a twist at Metzger’s brows -- very nearly sincere, as if he can’t believe his ears. ]

Is that all you have to say for yourself?

[ Clank.

He drops his bucket from both hands by means of punctuation, wet scrap rolling to an uneven stop against the sole of his boot. Fresh steam twists away from the metal there; a bump of the same toe sends remnant water dribbling through the grating as he takes a step nearer the rail’s edge, sure of foot. The droplets fall, and fall, and fall. ]

‘Awh. Shit,’ [ he echoes, sympathetic, oafish accent and all.

Sweat prickles his hair and shines at his neck, greasy in the bristle of his whiskers when he leans to growl through his teeth: ] You have sixty seconds to convince me you’re worth more to me alive than you are as a dose of extra calcium in our drinking water.

[retrofire]

[ The terrible and slightly tasteless joke earns a disapproving look, brows pinching together even more than they'd been on account of the headache. There's a scowl, too, which is weirdly difficult to manage when gravity's working against it — or maybe that's just the concussion talking.

So good cop, bad cop. Or goodish cop. Peter's seen the other guy around, even if they aren't on a first name basis, and he wastes a second trying to recall useful details before looking back to Metzger.

The irritation's still there, casually impatient in the face of what's clearly a life or death situation. Because hey, he's been through worse. Maybe. Not really, actually, but panicking (openly) isn't going to accomplish anything. Instead he gives a more subtle tug at his restraints, sending a low rustle of metal on metal through the links. It helps disguise the mild, instinctive flinch away as Metzger leans in, trying to keep distance. ]

That'd be a hell of a lot easier to do if I knew what you'd strung me up for. Communication, man, first rule of running a successful business.

[ That said, he's like, 99% sure this has something to do with smuggling. The problem is, he has no idea which job, and blind guessing seems like a bad approach. ]

[mrsnippy]

So this is your reward?

[He's never experienced blue skies first hand before, not yet having been chosen to be trained to re-enter the Matrix, but he can imagine that for most people, waking up to this would be a slap in the face]

You're English, aren't you? What was it like there in your dream? I had to emigrate when I was a kid because the land was becoming unliveable.

[repetitio]

[ the question — so this is your reward — earns him a snort, unladylike because rita is not and has never been a lady. she's a soldier. ] That's just war. [ rewards or fairness or justice, these things are all lofty ideas and wonderful, rita's sure, but war is all-encompassing and never fair.

so she doesn't ask if this is her reward or what she deserves. it just is. another war to fight, another day to face. that's all there is to it. at least the days aren't repeating themselves, at least she's not living the same day over and over and over again.

she doesn't think she could do that again, and she hates that she lost it all the same. ]

It's inhabitable. Some people say it's quaint, the villages. Not London, of course. London has Westminster Parliament and the Eye and a million other things. It's full of people.