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AUGUST TDM.
● ● ● T D M . 0 3
… What are you willing to do to erase your regret from existence?
The words, when they die out, leave you in emptiness — despairing, all-consuming, the kind that invites only the worst thoughts. What have you done? What have you agreed to do?
But then, from the emptiness, a golden light shines, and as you reach for it —
you wake up.
1.0 Perhaps it was less the golden light in your dream and more the insistent feeling of something metallic poking your side repeatedly, making beeping noises… wait, beeping noises?
When you look down, you’ll see a small robot staring at you and looking less than happy (maybe it has something to do with your disheveled state, maybe it's still mad about having to clean up after a certain pizza-induced mess). When you get up, it unleashes a series of beeps — and then furiously starts to scrub the floor.
Yes, the floor — instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself lying on a hallway, white walls and white floor surrounding you. You don’t have long to stare at the minimalistic look of everything around you before the little bot starts poking you again, the word MOVE blinking across its visor.
So better get out of its way! Perhaps you’re on the hallway on your own and leave on your own… or perhaps there’s someone else, sleeping near you. Maybe do them the courtesy of waking them up before this little angry bot does! Or perhaps you’re the poor soul still sleeping and needing a rescue before the beeps make it to you.
2.0 If you need a visit to the infirmary, the situation may be more dire — perhaps there’s blood on the wall that you wake up against, your clothes may be dirty or ragged… whatever it is that has happened to you before waking here and has left you injured, it sure doesn’t create a reassuring sight. Best get to the infirmary as soon as possible.... with some assistance, perhaps.
Once upright, you may notice there’s something in your ear: an earpiece that, when you become aware of it, quickly runs you through the instructions for how to use the network, a recorded message by a female voice that explains exactly why you’re here… and leaves you with a map of the station.
So what else is there to do but to explore? Best get to know what is now your new home.
3.0 The most pressing question that you might ask yourself is: but where will I stay? The question is answered once you walk through the winding white corridors to the common area. Behind it, there are three types of rooms: those with one bed, two beds and four beds. The rooms are clinical yet clean, and sparsely-furnished — and most importantly, most are occupied. So be prepared to get some roomies!
4.0 You may find your way to the armory, where you can try to work the machine there to make yourself a weapon — perhaps to replace one that didn’t come with you to the station… or maybe you want to be prepared for the future. The recently-returned team members will surely recommend having a functional weapon with you.
And speaking of weapons: to put it to good use, head to the training room, where the entire purpose is to provide you with a space to spar and train to your heart’s content!
5.0 After you’ve exhausted yourself training, it’s time to grab a bite. For that, you should head to the kitchen, which… seems to be filled with a lot of leftovers: takeout boxes with an assorted collection of pizza slices, kung pao chicken, lamb curry... not to mention the entire tray of chocolate brownies. Feel free to eat your fill — or if takeout isn’t your cup of tea, open one of the large fridges to pick fresh ingredients and make your own lunch.
6.0 A welcome reprieve to the cold, dark space that surrounds the characters can be found in the sunlight room. A skillful illusion surrounds anyone who steps inside the room: you can hear the trilling of birds, feel a light breeze caress your skin as you walk through a grass field. A new addition is a flower garden where there once was a meadow — now, roses, camellias, lilies and dozens of other flowers sway in the wind, all varieties in their own flower beds, with a winding path of stones leading through them. The path leads to where a bridge rises over a sparkling, babbling brook.
Here, it is easy to forget you are in space at all. Perhaps that gives you comfort, or just makes you miss the real nature all the more.
7.0 If you’d rather choose tinkering over nature, the lab is guaranteed to provide you with some entertainment. Glass vials and jars of chemicals sit on shelves in a surprisingly beautiful display of colour on one side of the room, while the other side of the room contains stacks of boxes containing assorted equipment: cords, bolts, panels, buttons, gears, gadgets, gizmos, and thingamabobs. The downside is that the parts available seem to have no apparent method to their sorting. So get digging, and you may just find exactly what you need to make what you’ve always wanted to make!
8.0 If it’s items you’re lacking, though, some time after your arrival, the earpiece alerts you to a new message.
Indeed, the platform near the personal quarters is still whirring with power, and new items form neat piles on it. There’s clothes, shoes, dishware, skincare, books… even a couple of CDs, and a few cute stuffed animals. So sort through what there is and grab what you want, before someone else does!
(CW: POTENTIAL BODY MODIFICATION)
Whether you’re a quick study and you’ve become settled into life on the station, or you want to get the full lay of the land (in a manner of speaking) first, if you decide to explore the hall past the control room, you’ll eventually come across the simulation room.
Step past the threshold and the doors will slide shut with a quiet woosh. Nothing suspicious; nothing to worry about. But before you can really get a sense of your environment (a grey, large-ish empty room, no furniture, no discernable objects to provide markers), the room goes dark, and then … there’s really no other way to describe it: the room transforms.
You find yourself in a club. The music is upbeat, loud, but not too loud. Down a short flight of steps flanking the bar and seating is the open floor with more tables and booths bathed in a warm, dim glow of light, and at the very end of the room is a stage with its bright spotlight showcasing its performers — though, at the moment, the stage is empty.
9.0 When you take a step forward, you’ll feel a presence gently push at your chest or your shoulder — a tall and jovial man resembling a well-dressed bartender from the top up (the rest of him appears to move along wheels) approaches with a tall flute glass in hand. Its contents are sparkly and blue.
Will you proceed? Please respond ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.”
There’s something a little strange about his voice, a cadence that doesn’t sound quite natural even when the simulation is so realistic otherwise. Once you’ve given your consent, the bartender continues.
10.0 It seems the bartender wasn’t lying. Once you’ve allowed the drink (tasty, sweet-but-not-too-sweet, effervescent, with light notes of your fondest childhood memory) to settle in your stomach you might experience a myriad of effects on your body, ranging from a change in skin colour (pink? green? blue with spots?), an additional limb or two (or three), a tail or wings, or cybernetic parts such as lie-detecting eyes or a tongue that can uncover truths and lies in others. If you happen to find another Orber within the room and both of you have consumed the offered drink, you might find yourself experiencing a full bodyswap.
None of the changes are painful; if anything, they might not even be noticeable until you look into a mirror, look down at your limb-in-question, or your companion points it out.
11.0 The moment you approach the stage, a performer will appear as if out of thin air and begin to sing, her voice strong and smoky and melodic. Her enthralling performance could put you into a trance, but you have an orb to find and a personal task to accomplish, so it’s time to put your best foot forward and do a little investigating.
Talking to some of the patrons might prove fruitful as some of them are convinced that the stage has never sounded or looked so good, like there’s something giving performers that extra oomph that no one can explain. It might be wise to wait until that last performance before you sneak up there — or maybe you want to do a little snooping around now, you know, while everyone’s distracted. Strategize with your fellow Orbers and uncover the location of this hidden orb.
● ● ●
N O T E: The effects of the drink and the level of changes your character experiences is entirely up to you. Patrons of this fine club won’t bat an eye if you look a little like them.
Additionally, there are three personal tasks provided to each character as they enter the simulation. In-game, each character will be given one task. For the purposes of the test drive, we’re leaving it to players to pick a task for their character and run with it.
A If you’ve been given a particular body change that might aid you in this mission, do not use it to your advantage.
B Team up with a fellow Orber to uncover the hidden location.
C Get up on stage and put on a performance during the simulation. Your song choice will determine the outcome of success in your investigation.
F Y I
• TDM threads can be used as samples for apps. In fact, we encourage it!
• Reserves are currently open!
• Apps open August 27.
• For any questions regarding TDM, please direct them here. For questions about the game, please refer to the FAQ.
FOR SOME FUN:
Have a listen for some clues about the second mission.
(Hint: there are four clues in total.)
Eliot Waugh ➼ The Magicians
➼ pt. 2 - 5.0 [The Kitchen]
➼ pt. 2 - 8.0 [The Platform]
➼ wildcard
deux 👁👄👁
Except, he can't. Because there's Eliot, twenty feet away, eating chow mein, and suddenly Quentin has forgotten how to do anything but stand and stare. His tear ducts don't give a fuck if it's a trick, and neither does his skittering heart, racing in his throat. He takes a step, eyes bright with awe-]
... El- oh, fuck.
[-and promptly runs into a cafeteria seat, severely bruising his knees. Get over here, you possible hallucination, you.]
no subject
- Quentin?
[ He stands up, smoothing down his clothes which are rumpled from his time loop adventure. Then he pauses. ]
Fuck. Am I dead?
[ He thought he'd have to go through Purgatory first but maybe they just decided to skip that for him and send him to ... Wherever this is. ]
no subject
It's not the reunion he'd pictured, either; the reunion he'd given up on, that is, standing at the edge of a bonfire, swallowing down any last shreds of hope for a deus ex machina ending. Before the forest and the mirror and the elevator doors, he'd visited it in snatches. Sometimes there were tears, like the ones prickling at the edge of his vision, but it never involved his own heart beginning to crumple, going cold and tight at those three words.
Am I dead?]
I- [Quentin doesn't know, and he's afraid to admit that he doesn't know, so he doesn't.] Eliot, I- What- [He shakes his head, words clearly not working, and instead, does what he's been waiting nearly a year for the chance to do.
He pushes the chairs aside and closes the feet between them, wrapping his arms tight around Eliot's thin chest.]
no subject
But Quentin feels real. There's all the familiar warmth that Eliot associates with him, the way Quentin fits against him so neatly and the way he hugs like if he lets go then one of them might float away. And maybe one of them will. Is it a trick? Is it death? Or is it a dream induced by not sleeping and ingesting too many meth muffins?
And why, really, would he see all this now? He'd put Quentin's memory to rest. He'd gotten it all off his chest and he thought he was doing a reasonable job of moving on. Rather than feel elated to see Quentin - dream or ghost or whatever he is - Eliot suddenly feels guilty. ]
Hey.
[ He's not sure what else to say. All his grand scenarios with smooth talking are out the window in the face of questionable reality. Instead of saying anything else, Eliot decides to return the embrace, pressing one hand to the back of Quentin's neck while the other circles his waist. ]
no subject
Hey.
[Smothered into the lapel of a jacket he doesn't recognize - one that smells too much like dry cleaner fluid and not enough like the cigarette-and-incense haze of the Cottage - but full of relief, of thankfulness. He closes his eyes and tightens his grip, tries to just feel every atom of this, but- there, in the back of his head: a brush of anxiety, keeping him from burrowing into that old comfort. He grips Eliot's jacket tighter, a protest against his own instincts, but it only gets stronger. Brow creasing, he pulls back a few inches and looks up (and up).]
Hey. [Quiet, his eyes searching. Eliot looks... awful, honestly, worse than Quentin had noticed in the first rush of shock, worse than the bonfire's flickering light had shown. But there's something else there, something tense and withholding that he can't read.] What's wrong?
[He just assumes it has something to do with why El looks like he's been through a spin cycle and mentioned the potentiality of being dead. Which... is still something Quentin needs to mentally process, once he's done being torn between building panic and complete disassociation.]
no subject
Apparently he was better at being brave about his emotions when Quentin wasn't quite literally staring him in the face. ]
Oh, you know. [ Eliot shrugs vaguely, defaulting to the comfort of deflection. ] Just the usual shit hitting the fan. Can't let you have all the world-saving fun, right?
no subject
He lets go, giving Eliot room to deflect all he wants. His neck aches from craning up, this close, and he says, very gently, ] Does it even- hit the fan, anymore? Or is it just, uh, permanently attached to the fan?
[what happened what happened are you okay is everyone else okay]
no subject
[ He can't stop looking at Quentin. Or, really, staring into Quentin's eyes, which he's done plenty of times in his thoughts but this is definitely not a dream. Everything is too high-definition.
Eliot's brow furrows a little, and then he parts his lips, inhaling as if he's about to say something before deciding not to. ]
Look, there's a lot to fill you in on, and I absolutely want to do that, but maybe we can just ... Enjoy the moment together for a minute or two?
no subject
Oh. Uh. Okay, I'll- [He fits them back together like a puzzle piece, taking a couple of stiff-armed tries, but eventually he's resting his ear back against the sharp edge of Eliot's collarbone, letting out a shaking breath.] I'm- okay.
[There's some really eloquent poetry coming out of this reunion.]
God, I'm- [He takes in a harsh sniff, fighting off the first prickle of tears. Eliot's shirt smells like sweat and alcohol.] ... I missed you, so fucking much.
2/8.0
Not yet. Wait, like . . . a suit tie? Or something else?
[This is an important distinction.]
no subject
[ There's a pause before Eliot actually answers, and, when he does, he draws out the word a bit. He hadn't necessarily thought he needed to clarify, but, you know, given the guy's wearing himself, maybe Eliot should have. ]
Not a ... Bowtie or anything.
[ Definitely not anything weirder. ]
8.0 ;
[ The man speaking is dressed in his own way, very much making a statement, very much not looking like he quite belongs in any sort of modern era, and yet not entirely out of one either. He's got a vest on over a crisp white button-down shirt, wool trousers, and the piece de resistance, of course: a blue, polkadotted, bow-tie.
His hand plunges into a pile of soft fabrics and accessories, not so much forming the neat piles they'd first arrived in, not after several hands have gone and rifled through for specific bits. The Doctor may have added to the chaos, but it isn't without a reason, and when he pulls his hand back out, it's to pluck out a deep blue tie. It's honestly very boring, but it is a tie. So. ]
Here we go, they're not exactly my style anyway. I think. It's possible I might have worn these once, but then that was a whole regeneration ago — times change, you know how it goes. I like bowties now. Bowties are cool.
no subject
Everyone's got their thing, right?
[ He takes the tie, plain as it is, with a thanks. ]
I don't really do the bowtie thing. Not that I don't like them, they just cramp my style a bit.
no subject
Suppose that's true. A thing — yes. Yes, bowties are my thing. Bowties — and a fez.
[ No, he will literally never give that latter bit up, no matter how many people (River, looking at you) criticize him for it. Like bowties, fezzes are cool. And while he might not be sporting one at this very moment, he has one in his room. It's now a prized possession as well. Gifts are sentimental things like that. ]
That's all right. So what's your thing then? The tie? Hopefully a more exciting kind than the one in your hand.
8.0 The Platform
There seems to be no sense in how they are grouped together, and the Darkling has to slink along the man-made paths to look for the one thing he asked for.
No Zemeni sugary treats or freshly baked garlic bread are waiting for him on the other platform. How could food be the reward for a successful mission?
His head snaps up, and he narrows his eyes at the man.]
What is a tie?
[The Darkling holds up a black shirt, placing it carefully back on the pile before moving on to the next one.]
no subject
Though he could give Seb a run for his money in the Dark King category. ]
It's an accessory. You tie it around your neck - [ Then, remembering he's wearing one, Eliot motions to his own tie. ] This?
no subject
The next pile holds nothing of interest, just more clothes in various colors. All of them too shiny and too loud to look at. Neon-bright dresses and what looks like a coat covered in feathers.]
Have you tried looking the pile of belts?
[Not unhelpful, even when he feels like it. Cooperation, Vivica had said, pressing her point home by referencing all the unwanted information she had access to.]
I think most of it is made of leather, but I've been wrong before.
[In a tone of voice that leaves little doubt about how rarely he thinks that happens.]