[ Canon point is after Final Plus+Remaster omakes. I will continue picking up threads on the summer TDM as well! ]
3.0: armory
[ Anyone passing by the Armory will see a pale, dark-haired teenager in a red uniform at the control panel, brows knitted and frowning as he contemplates how to phrase a request. At a workstation near him are a sheathed knife, a handgun, a few boxes of ammo, and … a colorful collection of a half-dozen robots scaled down to the Armory’s size limits. Up close, the little robots are weird for toys—they’re hyper-detailed, and even look and feel like real metal and rubber. And there’sadefiniteprogressionindetaillevels that suggests the kid at the controls has been refining the requests, but his scowl suggests he’s still not happy with the results. (What is this, a Gundam for ants?) After a moment, he punches in an updated request: Make it piece by piece. And several flat sheets of parts drop onto the pedestal. ]
… what the hell! If you can’t do it right, just say so!
6.0: lab
[ Same teenager, this time rummaging through tech storage side of the lab. He’s focusing on piles that look like they might hold large items, and isn’t being particularly cautious about what he picks up, so there’s definitely some creaking and swaying and sliding among the stacks. After getting elbow deep in the base of a particularly tenuous pile, he pauses and grumbles to himself, half annoyed and half perplexed. ]
I don’t get it. What kind of space station doesn’t have any normal suits?
[ And then he yells as the pile falls on top of him. ]
7.0A: simulation (orb? orb! orb. orbs. damn)
[ At the very edge of the ocean is small cenotaph built on a rocky outcropping. At first glance, the memorial looks like it’s been long-neglected; its pale stone is discolored by layers of salt and smoke and dirt, there are deep cracks throughout, and pieces have chipped off and lay scattered around it. The flowers or bushes or little ornamental trees once planted on either side of it have been reduced to dry, wispy skeletons, leaving weeds and tiny blue wildflowers to take over the planters. But upon a close or thoughtful investigation, the little cenotaph clearly only a few years old. The stone embellishments are crisp, at least where they haven’t been knocked off, rather than smoothed out by decades of wind and rain, and there are no traces of moss or other growth. The park just inland is in a similar strange state of newness and disrepair — the stone terrace overlooking the ocean is pitted and stained but not weather-beaten, the metal of fences and benches has all rusted through, and the beds of flattened flowers and toppled trees look both well-organized enough to have been planted in the last few seasons and chaotic enough that they must have been hit by a tsunami or a wrecking ball or both.
It's clear that the whole place was built with care and love and reverence, and even in this state of disrepair it's beautiful in a melancholy way — the little pale cenotaph stands out against the bright waters of the south Pacific, the waves crash steadily against the rock of the outcropping, and the sea breeze tries valiantly to rustle through the dead flowers and grasses. It's also clear that after it was built with all that care and love and reverence, it got beat to hell and back. But was it beat up by natural disasters? By war? (Porque no los dos?) If the simulation doesn’t shift too much when someone new enters, you could ask the teenage boy standing in front of the cenotaph looking gloomy. And if the simulation shifts a lot for a new entry, what shifts do they introduce....? ]
shinn asuka / gundam seed destiny / ota
3.0: armory
[ Anyone passing by the Armory will see a pale, dark-haired teenager in a red uniform at the control panel, brows knitted and frowning as he contemplates how to phrase a request. At a workstation near him are a sheathed knife, a handgun, a few boxes of ammo, and … a colorful collection of a half-dozen robots scaled down to the Armory’s size limits. Up close, the little robots are weird for toys—they’re hyper-detailed, and even look and feel like real metal and rubber. And there’s a definite progression in detail levels that suggests the kid at the controls has been refining the requests, but his scowl suggests he’s still not happy with the results. (What is this, a Gundam for ants?) After a moment, he punches in an updated request: Make it piece by piece. And several flat sheets of parts drop onto the pedestal. ]
… what the hell! If you can’t do it right, just say so!
6.0: lab
[ Same teenager, this time rummaging through tech storage side of the lab. He’s focusing on piles that look like they might hold large items, and isn’t being particularly cautious about what he picks up, so there’s definitely some creaking and swaying and sliding among the stacks. After getting elbow deep in the base of a particularly tenuous pile, he pauses and grumbles to himself, half annoyed and half perplexed. ]
I don’t get it. What kind of space station doesn’t have any normal suits?
[ And then he yells as the pile falls on top of him. ]
7.0A: simulation (orb? orb! orb. orbs. damn)
[ At the very edge of the ocean is small cenotaph built on a rocky outcropping. At first glance, the memorial looks like it’s been long-neglected; its pale stone is discolored by layers of salt and smoke and dirt, there are deep cracks throughout, and pieces have chipped off and lay scattered around it. The flowers or bushes or little ornamental trees once planted on either side of it have been reduced to dry, wispy skeletons, leaving weeds and tiny blue wildflowers to take over the planters. But upon a close or thoughtful investigation, the little cenotaph clearly only a few years old. The stone embellishments are crisp, at least where they haven’t been knocked off, rather than smoothed out by decades of wind and rain, and there are no traces of moss or other growth. The park just inland is in a similar strange state of newness and disrepair — the stone terrace overlooking the ocean is pitted and stained but not weather-beaten, the metal of fences and benches has all rusted through, and the beds of flattened flowers and toppled trees look both well-organized enough to have been planted in the last few seasons and chaotic enough that they must have been hit by a tsunami or a wrecking ball or both.
It's clear that the whole place was built with care and love and reverence, and even in this state of disrepair it's beautiful in a melancholy way — the little pale cenotaph stands out against the bright waters of the south Pacific, the waves crash steadily against the rock of the outcropping, and the sea breeze tries valiantly to rustle through the dead flowers and grasses. It's also clear that after it was built with all that care and love and reverence, it got beat to hell and back. But was it beat up by natural disasters? By war? (Porque no los dos?) If the simulation doesn’t shift too much when someone new enters, you could ask the teenage boy standing in front of the cenotaph looking gloomy. And if the simulation shifts a lot for a new entry, what shifts do they introduce....? ]