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

peter quill | mcu

[retrofire]

A | WILDCARD SIMULATION

[ This isn't what he's supposed to be doing. It's only a matter of time until someone shows up and tells him they have work to do, drags him out, and when that happens the scene will change; engines will roar overhead, lights will blare over the grassy hilltop, and then they'll have a legitimate training scenario. Something that requires reaction, not explanation.

Until then, it's just a quiet, green slope, slate beneath the night sky. Light pools beneath a few dim streetlamps a few yards off, closer to the building. It spills out from the glass door of the hospital, too, quiet and uninterrupted.

Not for him. There's music streaming through the headphones Peter's wearing, sound vague and tinny to anyone who approaches him where he's seated, sprawled out on the grass. The way he's tapping out a rhythm on his leg makes it look like he's distracted, nonchalant, but the way he watches the hospital door like he's expecting someone to walk out of it says otherwise. ]

B | REALITY

This music is terrible.

[ And super loud, which is why that's more or less shouted into your ear. Peter isn't even looking at whoever he's decided to submit his review to, gaze wandering over the sweaty excuse for a dance party that's writhing over the floors below. The level — balcony, sort of — he's currently standing on is crowded, too, and there are spots of movement that qualify as more dancing; but there's comparative quiet, and some actual sitting down and relaxing. ]

You wanna get some air? [ Well. Air, with air quotes, which he adds on the second go. ] You know, air.

[ Or whatever passes for it on this sorry excuse for a planet. It's an open invitation, apparently, and if you happen to be standing next to him, you qualify. ]

B

[hacker]

[ Usually, the person shouting in ears at a rave is the Creep Guy who needs a lesson in personal space, but today it's apparently the Downer. Skye keeps her body undulating along with the rhythm of the music, but cuts Quill a look over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. A brief once-over, and she at least decides to offer him an answer instead of just herding him out the door all bye, Felicia. ]

What—is this, like, your first rave? [ Dropping her hands to her sides, she straightens her legs out, tipping her head to the side. Then again, some people are thinking they're coming out of the Dark Ages, so maybe she shouldn't judge by appearances. She nods behind him for the nearest exit from the main cave area, squeezing out after him. ] So what's your idea of good music? Barry Manilow?

why not madonna

[retrofire]

[ Peter would take it incredibly personally if anyone called him a downer, ever, but luckily she plays along with minimal sass. The next room over is quieter yet, cut off by stone and dirt from the rest of it, but it's far from tranquil. The music runs through the sediment and emanates with a dull, constant pulse that makes everything else between the walls sound muted. ]

Hey, there's nothing wrong with a little—

[ Not that muted, though. Too loud. He stops, adjusts for a slightly more inside voice. ]

There's nothing wrong with a little Manilow.

[ He gives her a curious look as he speaks, but he hasn't actually stopped — he's still navigating through the tunnels, looking for any stairs he can get to. Saying he's got this place mapped out in his head would be a serious overstatement. ]

because madonna is too close to rave sounding ok

[hacker]

Sure, if you're, like, sixty.

[ As they move, Skye's eyes scan the tunnels in a telling way: she's still new to this. New enough that her hair's still barely beyond a buzzcut, skin prickling now that they're putting distance between themselves and the pulsing heat coming off the bodies of a cavern full of dancers. Sweat sticks to her, cooling her off more quickly. ]

oh ok

[retrofire]

Or if you're, like, totally cool.

[ Manilow's a classic. Not that he knows that, technically, but give it time. He hops up a flight of uneven stairs while he speaks, and it's been long enough that it doesn't wind him — still, he goes quiet for a second, waiting until he hits the next flat plateau to turn around and look at her, walking backwards as he continues. ]

You're Skye, right? I heard you're some kind of petite, lady James Bond.

[ The grapevine. Super inefficient. ]

[hacker]

On the internet.

[ She skips up beside him, but lags behind about halfway up the steps. Winded, she stops to rest one hand on the side of the wall, shaking her head. If there were ever a way to punctuate that she is so not James Bond-y in the real world, here it is. ]

But aren't we all just … bald, naked babies here? Or recently graduated from it, at least.

[retrofire]

Hey, not a baby and not bald, thank you very much.

[ He rubs a hand over the scruff on his jaw to make the point, even if his hair's still shorter than he'd like it. As soon as he notes the way she's catching her breath, he leans against the wall at the top of the stairs, nonchalant and unhurried. ]

And it still counts, right? Same way that being really good at Nintendo counts.

[ Still a skill. Of some kind. ]

[hacker]

All right.

[ She'll play. That gets a nod because it's the first passable justification for the previous world mattering she's heard. ]

Well, yeah, I'd kick your ass at Goldeneye. [ As for the rest, well … It goes unmentioned. She makes it up to the top of the stairs with him, releasing a shallow sort of wheeze that scratches in her lungs. One hand reaches up to absently rub over the short, prickly hairs atop her head. ] What about you: what's your story?

[retrofire]

[ ?? Going to assume that's a game. He'd be lying if he said he'd actually played much, much less had anything close to a personal gaming system, but the idea's still there.

The way she idly rubs her scalp earns a small smile; it's an absent tick most people around here have for a while, him included. It's a little endearing, in that 'we've all been there' kind of way. ]

Oh, you know. The usual. Alien abductions, interplanetary grudge matches, saving the galaxy. [ A beat, mockingly thoughtful. ] Barry Manilow. Although I'm more of a David Bowie guy, if you want to get technical.

[hacker]

[ The fake galaxy, she thinks to herself. Just like SHIELD saved the fake world from fake bad guys and fake HYDRA. But she's offering a muted grin anyway, because there's something reassuring in how casually he delivers the backstory. ]

Quill, right?

[ Because now she wants to make sure she remembers it. ]

So what, Roswell? Little green men with spindly arms and probes? No wonder you're into Bowie.

[retrofire]

Yeah. Peter.

[ More of an offer than a correction. ]

And no, actually. Not that there aren't green men, they just aren't so little. [ And there's probably a probe joke waiting to be made, here, but he decides to pass on it after that clarification. ]

Abductions aren't really a thing, I just got lucky. What about you, did you sign up for James Bond school?

simulation

[bigfloppyhat]

[Surprise, Peter-- you are not alone on that hill! Sitting next to him is a lanky teenaged boy, dressed in dirty leathers and a crazy big hat. You'd think you'd have noticed him before now, even with the headphones on, but apparently not. Or did he just appear there? Who can say!

The boy peers at Peter with sunken eyes, hidden behind stringy blond hair, before gently reaching over to carefully lift the headphones slightly away from his ear. Cole's head tilts, and he sounds like he's smiling, but it's kind of hard to tell.]

There's music in your head! Where does it come from?

[retrofire]

Whoa whoa whoa—

[ Peter jumps slightly, more because of the gently pulling on his headphones than the sudden talking. He raises a hand to lightly bat Cole's away, turning to fix him with a look that's mostly mock offended. ]

Personal space, man, look it up. [ Whatever irritation he's playing at, real or otherwise, it fades quickly when he gets a look at the kid. He's still not thrilled about being interrupted, but he manages to sound begrudgingly patient, at least. ]

It's a cassette player. [ A beat, then he unclips the player in question from his waist, lifting it up so Cole can get a look. ] One of these?

[bigfloppyhat]

[Cole doesn't seem offended at all-- he sits, patiently, almost, as though he's used to people generally being louder and more enthusiastic about everything than he is. His stare follows the little square contraption, although he hasn't the faintest idea of what it is, it seems important to Peter.]

No, it's not from there. All that meaning, it wouldn't fit. How could it?

[...eerie, but it's as if the kid knows more than he's saying. Or maybe he is saying it, and it's just not making any sense. Not that Cole seems concerned by that one way or the other. He just wants to help.]

[retrofire]

No, see, it's got a cassette in it. There's tape— [ Except the question isn't literal. Or maybe it's very literal; either way, Peter seems to catch on a few seconds late, brow furrowing as he eyes Cole, expression turning mildly suspicious.

His voice matches, words drawn out and cautious. ]

You're not talking about the lyrics, are you.

[ex_spins462]

[ Natasha gives him a quick once over before she gives an internal shrug. ]

Yes.

[ Her voice somehow manages to be loud enough to cut through the music without registering enthusiasm. And then she turns and walks away, long strides and liberal use of her elbows to scythe through the writhing mass of bodies and away from what reads, to her, as desperation. Sweaty desperation, clinging determinedly to hedonism and life in a world with no room for them.

She doesn't look back to see if Peter follows. But she's waiting for him when he gets outside, all black leather and a fuzz of red hair, eyes teasing, mouth curled into a flirtatious half-smile. ]

Want to hear a secret?

[retrofire]

Yes?

[ Like he's startled that she's taken him up on it, but then she's swanning out of the room, which is pretty good confirmation. The air doesn't get clearer the closer he gets to the surface; it just changes, a different kind of stale. He'd expected something nostalgic out of it the first time he'd gone out. Mostly it just reminds him of other dead planets, the ones he grew up scavenging for loot.

Peter's distracted for a second anyway, squinting out over the dark horizon before her question drags his focus back. Distracted or not, he plays along quickly, flashing a grin. ]

Always.

[ex_spins462]

[ She crooks a finger, beckoning him closer. Like maybe she really took him up here to be seduced. She runs her hands over his chest and loops her fingers into the material, looking up at him and holding him in place. When she speaks, it's soft. ]

We're from the same one. The same "matrix".

[ No bunny fingers, but the dubious quotation marks are audible anyway. She isn't supposed to know that, but she got the information out of some native operator that couldn't stop staring at her tits. Natasha had thought it was just her and Steve, but instead there's this guy. Who the fuck is he?

So maybe she wasn't dancing up on him because she was interested in his musculature. ]

What's your name?

[retrofire]

[ In his defense, he's still working on said musculature in the so-called real world, so.

Peter seems entirely convinced she's brought him up here for the obvious reasons that lead to feeling up his chest and pulling him close. There's no reactive tension when she speaks, eyebrows raising in curiosity — it isn't what he was expecting, but it's still interesting. He's had worse surprises, anyway.

Besides, it could mean a lot of things. A lot of planets, a lot of aliens — they'd look human here, right? Be human. ]

That's funny, because you don't look familiar.

[ No name, even if his tone's friendly. ]

You first.

[ex_spins462]

Romanoff.

[ No reaction. Which is unusual in and of itself: after the debacle at the Triskelion, everyone knows about her. Her entire history was pored over by the international media. ]

Of SHIELD.

[ She adds, flicking up an eyebrow, because surely that will get her somewhere. ]

[retrofire]

[ Zero for two. Neither one of those names mean anything, but the emphasis on the second one gives him some context, at least. Peter leans in slightly, projecting the appropriate air of mystery and intrigue into his voice. ]

Quill.

Of— [ Improv. A very slight pause, then, confidently: ] The Jackson Five.

[ex_spins462]

[ Natasha's head tilts back with obvious derision. ]

Little pale for that, aren't you?

[ Running a thumb over the skin showing above the neckline of his clothes for emphasis. ]

[retrofire]

Ah-hah.

[ Very gotcha, as if he's the one with the clever lines instead of her. ]

So you're Terran.

[ Oops. He corrects himself, bowing his head very slightly to make it seem like a patronizing translation rather than a mistake. ] From Earth.

[ex_spins462]

[ Natasha's eyes widen and then narrow. ]

Yeah. Expecting something else?

[ He sure doesn't talk like an Asgardian, but she doesn't know what else is out there. Still. That would explain why he doesn't know her. Every person on Earth might have heard of SHIELD, but maybe he wasn't from Earth.

Just how big was their Matrix, anyway? ]

A

[emptychamber]

Oh my god.

[A cassette player is both perfect and ridiculous. Moreover, it's a level of technology she's actually set to recognize. Her reaction is quiet, but not so quiet she doesn't mean him to notice her; she actually prefers not to sneak up on people when she doesn't mean them ill, even in a simulation. She comes up to one side of him, not blocking his view of the hospital.

If he wants to ignore her, well, the headphones give him an excuse.]