So we're all up in each other's heads, which blows, obviously. I feel like I'm ten people right now, and I have no idea who half those ten people are. I was gonna ask around, try and figure it out, but I have a better idea.

[ for a certain definition of "better". ]

Presenting, The Tranquility's Freaky Memory Swap Directory.

Here's how it works: you drop the details of stuff that doesn't belong in your brain. You know, names, places, events, incriminating secrets. Then comb through what other people leave and work out who got all your dirty laundry so you can bribe or threaten them into silence. Got it? Great.

<font face=courier><strong>My name is:</strong>  <strong>Seeking:</strong> M/F/? <strong>Do these names mean anything to you?</strong>  <strong>I know about your:</strong> </font>

(( i won't be back to this post for a few hours for any tags meant specifically for stiles, but i turned comment emailing off so tag each other!!! you are welcome to ignore the form.))

Soooo... hey. I'm Sam. You guys probably met me before - I've lost a few years, and, uh. I guess I don't remember the last few trips here. So if anybody'd like to fill me in about - whatever the hell I did around here, I'd love to refresh my memory.

[Not that he could, either way. He's a babyface (who still looks a bit like he got into a barfight).]

Actually, I wanted to ask - anybody got any useful books? Outside of this place, I mean. Anything with actual - information. Nonfiction stuff, old age books, whatever.
 
[It's been about a week since Sam got aboard the ship, and really, he's mostly been trying to find anything to occupy his time in the library. Yeah, yeah, he's a nerd or whatever; Dean's probably said anything you could say about his bookworm stuff. But he's not too content with the selection, and as he's scanning through the holographic consoles; the green-glow plays off his face as he sighs, leaning back to talk to the comm. Hi everyone, I'm a moose, how's it going.]

 I'm not really finding anything remotely helpful here - not much of a surprise, considering everything else I've read on the network about this place... [He squints up at the hologram, shaking his head.] A ship like this without anything helpful in the library? I guess everyone's pretty much already guessed something got rid of anything important here. Now all you've got is...

[what the hell is this - he half-laughs, throughly amused and repulsed as he reads the passage aloud]

"Captain Haroldo set his phasers to love as the exotic alien princess ran her hands down his glistening abs..."

[He trails off, and whatever he reads in his head after that is clearly beautiful enough to make him laugh aloud.]



Dude, gross. Look, Dean, this stuff was practically made for you. 

[:)))))]

[Not much later, he includes a quick little encryption - it was kinda interesting, to mess with. Go technology. More importantly... there's someone he wants to - meet? Re-meet? He's not even sure what to call it, but he knows that it's better to have a chat sooner than later.]

[To Jo Harvelle // Encrypted 50%]

Hey, uh... I hope I'm doing this right.

Jo?

Has anyone seen Beard-Me?

[




...
Pie Maker, that's not fair. You're not permitted for long pauses and pouty looks with those eyebrows. They just might crawl away and hide in a hole. ] I'm taking that uncomfortable silence as a 'no,' I don't think that ever means 'yes.'

[ Another pause, but he quickly catches with the stillness of it. He clears his throat. ] Say, knock knock...

[ Maybe a joke will help. ]

[ The video comes into focus on Bells, kicked back on his bed surrounded by a pile of clothes and a pair of old sneakers haphazardly balanced on the edge. He's slowly unfolding a piece of paper as he speaks. ]

Soooo, uh. Sometimes I wonder if whoever's in charge of this boat has a sick sense of humor. Don't get me wrong—most of the time, I just don't give a damn. But there's messed up shit on top of everything else we're dealing with. Then, we get to the jump and-- [ A scoff, he begins to read: ]

What is safe sex? [ Bells makes a face. ] It's the use of condoms and water-based lubricants as well as a range of other things you can do during sex to help reduce the risk of catching or passing sexually transmitted... Yeah, okay. This is the kind of junk that ends up in someone's locker?

Who actually reads these things and takes 'em seriously? I mean. Look. [ He oh-so-generously brings the pamphlet up to show this image before turning to this one. ]

If I was gonna pick up anything, it wouldn't be, uh, whatever this syphi-thing is. Besides, it's telling me where to get condoms, and I'm pretty sure there's no supermarket around here. Actually, I don't know what that is either. [ He pauses, leaning forward to dig through his stuff to withdraw a small colorful bottle. He shakes it back and forth, almost enticingly. ]

But I did get a few of these. This one's bubble gum. Whatever that is. I guess you can eat it? [ Bells pauses, trying not to laugh. ] Anyone wanna trade some stuff? I'll even give you this weird instruction manual for free.

[The video clicks on and there is a--thing. She looks sort of kind of mostly human, except she's got donkey ears, corkscrew Homestuck-troll horns, slit-pupil cat eyes and a mouthful of sharp, neon teeth. Yeah. Once the video is on and she's sure it's broadcasting, she waves at the camera.]

Hullooooo! Camille here, resident newbie! I'M BACK BITCHES! Is what I'd say if the grand old multiverse could have been arsed to send me to an alternate world that’s actually, yanno, familiar and all! I’m certainly back in space, on what, a spaceship this time? Actually traveling somewhere, it is? And no horrendously bitchy AI this time around, well, not that I’ve seen as yet! Kudos to the multiverse! Oh, and kudos to you good folk, having a good and proper welcome post for us newbies! Right nice of you chaps! Never did get around to that in the last place I was at.

But anyway, let me tell you right now, space chumps! There had best be a place for me to open my café--again--or I’m eating the entire ship! Oh suuuure, they say it’s too big for that, but that’s just because they have never met a hungry shapeshifter before, hu hu!

Oh, yes, let’s just get that out of the way right now: I’m a shapeshifter! A shapeshifter who is also a baker! It’s alright to swoon, I really am that amazing! Best deal with it, sweeties~

[This video feed is dark. There's light filtering in from somewhere, and it's just enough to highlight the silhouette of a person, apparently crammed into some kind of confined space. Closet? Air vent? Who knows. This is probably meant to be an audio post, and there is evidence that an attempt was made to filter it away from at least two parties. Neither of these efforts were successful.]

Here's a problem for all of you. Real brain-buster, this one, if you catch my drift.

[Hi Wheatley.]

Let's say, hypothetically, I have a friend who, um…sort of…found himself in a situation where things got a little complicated. Circumstances out of his control, you know how it goes. Did some things…maybe said some things…that…were not the best things to say or do. Point is, this friend of mine made a couple of ladies rather upset.

Thing is, he didn't think he'd see either of them ever again! Turns out he was wrong. Saw them again…much sooner than he anticipated. And is now a bit…unsure of what to do, right? Because…they all parted on, uh. Less-than-stellar terms.

Still purely speculative, here, by the way. In case you forgot.

So we'll confirm that one of the ladies actually deserves an apology, which he did, in fact, grant. Right off. First thing he did, apologize to her. And he--and he thought it would make him feel better about the whole thing, but it didn't. Which…doesn't make any sense at all, because that's not what's supposed to happen. You're supposed to say you're sorry, and she's supposed to say "apology accepted, and also I'm sorry for a couple of things that may have upset you in turn", and then you say "that's all right, let's go back to being mates". And you do.

But that's not--that's not what happened, and honestly, I think he feels worse because she is…still angry. Hypothetically angry. Or--or hypothetically disappointed, at the very least. Which is…the complete opposite of what he wants. It's--it's all terribly confusing and he is not entirely sure how to go about correcting this and would…very much like to not be on the receiving end of her unstoppable wrath. We'll suppose he's already experienced it once and it was not. Pleasant.

And we'll say, hypothetically, that the other lady--if you can even call Her a lady--does not deserve an apology, because She is bloody insane, and also a homicidal maniac.

Actually, that's only partially hypothetical. It is, in fact, loosely based on the true story of a crazed lunatic fresh out of the gravity couches, absolutely hellbent on spilling my blood. I am capable of bleeding, now--that's a thing I've confirmed about this body, and I'm not terribly keen on having it happen again. Since arriving, She has already tried to murder me once, and might possibly attempt to murder others once I am dead. She might not even wait until I'm dead! Just…just throwing that out there. Food for thought.

Cave Johnson here.

Welcome, newcomers and memory challenged individuals who may or may not recall if they've ever been here before. Seems we'll be getting a new batch of you every so often and in which case it's important to note you can refer to my pre-recorded messages anytime you need a re-introduction. Just push some buttons on that device you've received until you hear the sound of my voice.

In short, welcome to space. Space is fraught with perilous danger at every turn, and as such, recent space developments include reports of some kind of wild animal on the loose attacking people at random and feeding on their flesh. Don't know what it is! I'm bettin' on some manner of space vampire or space werewolf.

If by chance it is a space vampire or space werewolf and you notice yourself turning, don't panic, and please assemble what little is left of your morality and drag yourself into Medbay for immediate testing, or flag down the nearest Science personnel you see. [Cave gives a muted cough.] Chances are we'll have to fuse garlic into your skin or transfuse all the blood in your body with Adamantium liquid silver, in which case I'd advise not standing near or touching anything that conducts electricity.

Speaking of which, my personal assistant Wheatley has gone missing. Either he's lost or turned in which case do both me and you a favor and drag him to Medbay. Ginger kid, freckles, glasses, a little over five-foot, British accent, kinda' scrawny and lacks personal hygiene. Very important he's returned to me, ideally in one piece. He's been wanting to get himself back into a robot body, so multiple pieces should do just as good, but ideally in one piece.

Wily (or anyone else bored and interested in building a robot body horror for science) why don't you check out these blue prints I've been working on [which in actuality is more like an 80's looking hodgepodge of the two] and tell me what you think of them. Fantastic, right? I think the kid'll like them.

And if not and you can hear this Wheatley, I'm out of pain pills again. [Again with the cough--this time a bit less muted. Not for lack of trying, Cave kind of sounds like crap.]

I would really appreciate some.

Cave Johnson, we're done here.

[ The device pops on, the screen showing nothing but the fabric of someone's jumpsuit. Muffled sound of sobbing can be heard for a few moments, followed by sniffling, as the person tries to gain some composure.

After a moment they are fumbling with the device in attempt to flip it up towards their face. The sight of a distressed Ariadne can be seen then - looking more like she has been through the wringer then anything, and it's obvious something is wrong with her. She clutches her favorite silk scarf to her chest, wincing in pain before finally speaking. ]

Something's on the ship. [ Screw the filters and encrypting - she doesn’t care - she is scared as hell. ]


(( ooc: this would be for the FEEDING PLOT. Feel free to have this be action or whatever with Ariadne. Or even a catchall for others to communicate. LETS CAUSE A PANIC GUYS. : ) )

This is Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR. Please respond.

[The feed is a bit crackly and disjointed, with the occasional fizzing noise in the background.]

I repeat, this is Agent Margaret Carter of the SSR. If there is anyone one out there who is part of that organisation, please contact me immediately. I believe I have established a private channel for you to speak to me on.

It seems that I've been taken against my will to a base of some sort. I'm not sure if it's HYDRA but the technology is unlike anything I've seen before.

[Quietly, to herself.] Howard would have a bloody field day here.

[Back to the professional persona.]

Once someone has responded, I'll give you details of a rendezvous point where we can meet to discuss what our next move is.

That will be all.

[The feed ends.]


((ooc: Going out shortly but will tag back when I return :3))

So apparently we've had some folks put into squishy meat suits, and we've had some more-- advanced android models come through who apparently are reasonably humanoid enough that they didn't need any ship-based modifications, and those who were probably modified who may not know it yet! And that means those mechanical and electrically based people on the ship need someone to see to their needs!

That also means you need someone with the right skills to keep you in tip top shape. I'm volunteering; robotics [rahbahtics is not how you say that, Megamind] is probably my favorite field, and I've years of experience, both practical and academic! Also, coming to me for your needs makes a lot more sense then those guys down in medical. Because, let's face it, you don't need a surgeon, you need the hands of an engineer.

[Ping! Here's his location of the 'evil lair, or at least the floor it's on, and some other information.]

So, if you're needing help adjusting, need repairs made, need back ups -- I'm the gentleman to help you.

Though, ah, if you have any security software, or other countermeasures-- please let me know before I hook you up for diagnostics... We've already lost one console and putting it back up to rights is a pain in my skinny blue--

--well, you get the idea.

[Raven's already smiling a bit before she even starts her message, because she feels ridiculous, yes. She almost wants to preface with a warning, No This is Not an Attempt to Sound Macho or Intimidating, or anything else other than what it plainly is, but she doesn't. Instead, she'll get right to it.]

So, I've noticed that the boys have managed to pull together a boxing... fighting club to keep active here, but I was wondering if anyone has discovered a basic weight room or the like yet? I've been to the green room (that's what I like to call it, anyway) to go on runs, but I need something more. A means of physical training. Anyone have any luck finding such a place yet?

If not, I'd love to start something a little more female friendly. [Her expression screws up a bit, because even being directly out of the 1960s, she knows how bad that sounds.] Mm, no, not female friendly. That's not what I meant. But something less combat-focused and more core training. If not just so I have something to do other than explore this massive boat.

And don't mistake that for something easy, or something less physically challenging, I just mean less fighting, more ...pure exercise.

Unless of course the fight club wouldn't mind having a female member. That could work for what I'm looking for, I suppose. [... SMUG. Calling you out, sirs. Let's see if anyone bites.] Let me know.


[ooc: leaving for work ..five minutes ago, but i'll be tagging as soon as i get home! yee!!]

[ The communications device is placed haphazardly. Perhaps on a shelf, but regardless the orientation makes it so that video is tilted in a less than pleasing manner. Sherlock and John are both in frame; entirely unaware that the video has them both captured. Sherlock is all jitters and small animations of tension. From the rhythmic taps of fingers to the trouser end of the jumpsuit to the quick paces back and forth in the gaps between John and Sherlock’s bed. ]

I was hoping for more concrete advice. [ A hint of seething; irritation; perhaps desperation. ] I was under the presumption that you had added space into your repertoire, John Three Continents Watson. [ More pacing; his expression turns legitimately confused ] Help me.

[ John sighs - he’s never living down that particular disclosure of information, is he? He rubs at his brow with his thumb, though his eyes follow Sherlock for some of the walk. The communicator in his own hands seems to have been forgotten for the moment. ]

What are you on about? Advice? What are you trying to do now?

I’m not helping you sweet-talk any more women into stealing you things.


( cut due to length. )

[[ OOC: HI GUYS FEEL FREE TO SPAM THIS POST WITH INAPPROPRIATE TERRIBLE DATING ADVICE FOR THE CONSULTING DETECTIVE. THIS GRATUITOUS DISPLAY OF BROMANCE HAS BEEN BROUGHT TO YOU BY JULYA AND EFFY: BROMANTIC PRODUCTIONS. BLUE IS SHERLOCK, BROWN IS JOHN :D ]]

[a little fumbling, a nice view of the pad of someone's thumb, vague muttering, and oh-- voilà! there is an old man with a great big hat and a small pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose peering at the camera with a mix of curiosity and hard scrutiny.

forsooth, he speaks:] --my, this interface is extraordinary... Image, sound, and text... Never even considered--

[oh hi. he's talking to himself. realising this, he clears his throat, smiles a little embarrassedly, and directs his gaze not at the communicator itself but at his unseen audience.] Apologies. This technology, though, it's all so advanced. Rivalling even my own, in its own way. [though the way he says it, he doesn't sound particularly convinced... ahem.]

My name is Qilby and, ah, I am an Eliatrope. And no stranger to space travel, for what it's worth. But to tell the truth, I hadn't expected to be on the move again quite so soon.

In any case, I understand we have quite the long journey ahead of us. Seeing as we've got the time, I'd be very interested to hear about all your worlds. Where you've come from, what life was like. Perhaps what you were doing before you... Arrived here. [le tired smile. he doesn't seem to still be groggy from the jump; maybe that's just how he normally looks.] I'm afraid I have nothing to offer in return but my own story, but I'd understand if listening to an old man blather on doesn't sound particularly appealing...

[a pause, and casually, as if an afterthought:] ... And I understand that there are people I may talk to about helping out on the ship?


[ooc: feel free to notice he's chillin' in the common area of one of the passenger's quarters, if you'd prefer action!]

[ Helen had given herself a little time to 'settle in', or at least become a little more familiar with her location before broadcasting anything - that and the more time that past the less disorientated she felt. Hello travellers, have one rather calm looking woman addressing you ]

I've heard as much as is known about where we are, and although I wish that there was more what I do now know is far more helpful than nothing at all.

My name is Helen Magnus. I arrived in the last 'jump' and would like to offer my help in any way possible. I've heard of a shortage in the infirmary but if there is anything else that I could also do please, do ask.

[ The more she can do the more she can learn in her opinion. And she gives a small smile before cutting off the feed ]

Thank you.