silverguitarhero: ([Bowed head])
[personal profile] silverguitarhero
[Well, that certainly was a trial. John is definitely not happy that someone just got executed for killing a vampire-he'd have done the same thing if he caught her. Not to mention there's not much food left in the kitchen either. Still, he's grabbed whatever cake is leftover from the fridge, and left a note by the dining hall door asking people to bring what they have.

He himself is sitting at one of the desks, reading slowly through his copy of The Long-Lost Friend and singing softly under his breath. There's a pile of paper sitting by him, each with charms written on them, and he's apparently flipping through the book looking for more to copy down.]

Way up on Hark Mountain
I climb all alone,
Where the trail is untravelled
The top is unknown.
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[When the announcement sounds and the evidence gathered it’s time for a trial. When the remaining champions are all gathered by the repaired docking bay doors they slide slowly slide open.

The two lines of sentry robots are there again, creating a border path from the docking bay doors to the circle of metal podiums. The podiums themselves were made of strange metals in red and gold and orange and black, each one etched with the name of one of the Champions. There are flood lights - like spot lights - in front of each podium. The lights on Diego, Kiss-Shot and Erika's podiums have been turned off and their floating grey scale portraits have joined the four from last week.

Blaze Dudely stands on a repair deck on top of his ship, which looms over the proceedings ominously. Rather than the glee the Champions may think he would take in this kind of display, he merely stands there with his arms crossed, expression unreadable and his cyborg eye scanning the Champions with a piercing scrutiny, like he's searching for one of them to act out of line.]


Mornin’, Champions. Here’s how this is goin’ to go: take the evidence ya found, piece together what happened and find who took out the Champion Detective and... [He pauses, running through Kiss-Shot's excessively long title in his head.] The vampire one. Founders, I regret giving her that title. If ya find them, they’ll be dealt with. If ya don’t, they’ll be free to go and the rest of ya will face punishment. Take the time ya need but don’t bore me.
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[This week should have been quiet enough. There was no motive, after all, and all anybody had to do was go to their group therapy session. But the dwindling food supplies have left things tense, and the screaming robotic animals haven't helped much either, have they?

There's no blood outside the cells today. But there is a strong and rather unpleasant smell lingering in the air...]
tenimuho: (this small thing)
[personal profile] tenimuho
[During Tuesday's dinner - and one-on-one when Oda tracks down anyone who wasn't in the mess hall then - Oda has an announcement.]

Since alcohol is especially hazardous on an empty stomach and more tempting to drink when you're thirsty, I'd appreciate it if people helped me responsibly consume what we have left during a game of Never Have I Ever in an hour, here in the mess hall. Teenagers will be allowed to participate.

[...and, no matter what arguments people make against this, an hour later Oda will be out with the remaining stores of alcohol (that were in the kitchen and not Rick's room) set out on the table, along with a bunch of glasses.]

The way this works is that the first person says something that they have never done, and everyone who has done that has to take a drink. Then it goes around the circle.

[This is safer - it's easy to keep an eye on the people in the room, easier than keeping an eye on everyone in the ship.

And if anyone looks like they might be close to falling asleep in the mess hall, Oda will be escorting them to their room. Carrying them, if necessary.]

Week 3

Aug. 27th, 2017 11:26 am
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[Four people dead now - six, if you include the crew. Things have been a little rough on the Starfield Penitentiary this week. Blaze Dudely doesn't make a public reappearance during the weekend, so you've got a few days to yourselves to recover, though he's probably still sticking to his office hours if you really feel like going to see him. On Sunday morning, you may find that you're recovering a a few other things as well - both strange dreams and some new items.

In addition, there's a new set of doors at the end of the corridor, by that empty space where you'd been having your fight club. Looks like you've got a new wing to explore.]




Sunday | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday


(( ooc: Don't forget to turn in your AC for Week 2, submit your memory regains, and put in your benefactor threads! ))
heartswapped: (my bloodstream chokes)
[personal profile] heartswapped
[That didn't work out so well, did it?

Two more people dead. Two more drawings join Scraggly, Fourtinbras, Shirou, and Alexander on the shrine, although it seems like Diego's might have been scribbled a little more haphazardly than the others. Not that it really matters; Cheryl's never been a very good artist, but it's the thought that counts.

Cheryl's holed herself up in the kitchen, having made a fresh pot of coffee and some sandwiches of various fillings (although several of these look like they may or may not be space tuna salad) before getting to work on a batch of cookies. They taste...kind of like snickerdoodles. In space, it's hard to tell.

She even raided what booze they had in the fridge and set it up in the mess hall, if you need that.

Of course, she's not going to complain if anyone else wants a go at the kitchen. But mostly, she just set everything up so others can come, rest themselves after a long day, and share in their collective grief.]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[When the announcement sounds and the evidence gathered it’s time for a trial. When the remaining champions are all gathered by the repaired docking bay doors they slide slowly slide open.

There are two lines of robots, silent as sentries, creating a border path from the docking bay doors to the circle of metal podiums. The podiums themselves were made of strange metals in red and gold and orange and black, each one etched with the name of one of the Champions. There are flood lights - like spot lights - in front of each podium, but the lights in front of Shirou, Hamilton, and Albel are dark, and hung on the front of their podiums are greyscale portraits, printed from their profiles.

Blaze Dudely stands on a repair deck on top of his ship, which looms over the proceedings ominously. Rather than the glee the Champions may think he would take in this kind of display, he merely stands there with his arms crossed, expression unreadable and his cyborg eye scanning the Champions with a piercing scrutiny, like he's searching for one of them to act out of line.]


Mornin’, Champions. Here’s how this is goin’ to go: take the evidence ya found, piece together what happened and find who took out the Champion Swordsman. If ya find them, they’ll be dealt with. If ya don’t, they’ll be free to go and the rest of ya will face punishment. Take the time ya need but don’t bore me.
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[It's your second Friday in Starfield Penitentiary, and four people are already dead. But at least there's been no murder among your own number yet; you've been relatively united against the recent pirate threat.

This morning, though, it looks like there's some blood out in the main foyer area. Investigate?]

week 2

Aug. 21st, 2017 11:11 am
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[With the sudden pirate takeover and the sudden, tragic deaths of the crew, the second week of the Starfield Penitentiary rehabilitation project is off to a rough start. After Price's call for parlay with the pirate captain, he was not seen for the remainder of Saturday but around 10 pm it is his calm but tense voice that makes the time announcement.

Buckle in, Champions, things are about to get bumpy.]


Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday




[ooc: Don't forget to to turn in your AC for week 1 and submit your threads for the Benefactors!]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[After a few long, tense minutes there's the unmistakable sound of a distress alarm going off cut off seconds later by the power shutting off. They're in total darkness for a few weightless seconds before the backup generator kicks on and red emergency lights along the floor click on followed by a rush of fresh oxygen from the life-support system.

The robots outside the kitchen go eerily silent but there's no sound to intricate that they've left. In fact there's no sound at all for a long minute until it starts.

Step.
Kthunk.
Step.
Kthunk.

The footsteps stop abruptly and, without warning, the door to the slowly kitchen opens with a soft hiss...

And a very large, familiar body oozing green blood is thrown into the room like a rag doll, hitting the floor with a wet, solid thud. One arm is severed cleanly at the shoulder, cauterized and still smoking. His amphibian face stares sightlessly up at the ceiling, jowls slack and a burning, cauterized wound all the way through his throat.

Fourtinbras is dead.

Step.
Kthunk.]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[One week into your prison sentence, and so far...nothing much has happened. Sure, you've been dragged to a space jail in an unknown world for crimes you may or may not be aware of, but at least the place is pretty decent, and so are many of the people. Even the most unlikely of you have probably made at least a few friends by now, right?

The weekend is quiet; the Counselor and other staff are sticking to their regular routines. Seems like you're still free to do as you please until the next group therapy session.]

week 1

Aug. 14th, 2017 08:59 pm
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
Week 1


[After being introduced to their Counselor, the inmates are left to their own devices to explore the open areas of the ship as they please. The counselor's office hours are available if any of the inmates wish to speak to him privately and, throughout the week, the cook and the janitor can be found here and there.

Each morning the inmates are awakened by Dr. Price's voice over the intercoms located in each cell announcing the time as 7 am. Breakfast is served each morning in the mess hall from 7 am to 8 am, lunch from 11:00 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. and dinner from 5:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m..

Enjoy your week, inmates.]


Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday



[ooc: welcome to week 1, everyone! This first week is a peace week which means there will be no murder this weekend! Feel free to start submitting threads for the benefactors]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[Each inmate wakes up in a cell, with no memory of arriving there or of putting on the full body orange jumpsuit. There is a moderately chunky tablet wired into one of their arms, with dials on the side to flick through the different menus, including a limited note-taking function and a map

None of them are alone in their cells, either.

Whether they choose to leave their cell and explore or just stay and get to know their new roommate, it becomes clear that this place isn't anything like any of them have ever seen. For some, it's devoid of anything even remotely familiar. The door labeled Counselor's office is locked. The Counselor's office and the kitchen and mess hall all have placards stating hours when they're closed - or in the former's case, when "private office hours" will be held.

However they while away the next couple of hours, it seems like they're mostly alone on the ship. For a while, anyway.]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[From the Temerity, it's hard to say what exactly is happening down in the convention center, but it's clear that there's some shit going down. Crowds of fans are streaming out of the building to stand around the docking area, kept away from the entrances and exits by the police - including a Turian and a little dog - as well as Max, Lightning, and Finn. Some people, especially the press, are giving up and taking to their ships to flee.

Amid all the chaos, it's not hard to land, pick up your escaping friends, and flee. It's better to take off now, because Kip is keeping an eye on where the others' PIPs are pinging from. It seems they've been moved to a different part of the nebula.

You've got a few minutes to catch up before he can get you over there. So what the fuck, dudes?]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[The Stardust Nebula is a large cloud, sprawling pink and purple across the dark void of space as you approach. There are no planets here, not even a planetoid, but that hardly means it’s devoid of life. Kip will easily be able to navigate to the place in question, a small collection of interconnected spaceports orbiting near the edge of one of the nebula’s hazy, rose-tinted tendrils. Floating signs hooked to these advertise “AIRLOCKED! Q&A”, with arrows leading towards what appears to be a convention center. A dome encloses the area, much like the one around the Fantasy Sweet, but there does not appear to be any kind of security restrictions on the port; it will open as soon as any ship pulls up to it.

Inside, there aren’t too many inconspicuous places to park your weird flotilla of offensively-shaped ships. You may just have to settle for the back of the docks, behind a large news van or something like that, and consider not sticking around the entire time. Getting inside was a quick process, so you shouldn’t have any trouble doing it again, especially with a military navigator staying with the ship. A line has already formed in front of the entrance, at least partially due to the scanners flanking the door. A large weirdly baby-faced alien in some type of uniform is standing there, apparently manning the machine, checking peoples’ belongings, and generally directing them. There’s an unfamiliar symbol on their uniform, clearly not the InterGal 7 logo. Despite being alone, they seem to be handling the line fairly efficiently - even if they occasionally appear to intentionally loom over some of the smaller aliens attempting to enter. There are a few cosplayers among the crowd, of course, but this time the majority are in plainclothes.

Some people are skipping this line and walking around to the back of the building. They’re all wearing or carrying badges, which do have the InterGal 7 logo on them.

For the moment, no one seems to have taken notice of your arrival.]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[About a day after Cece's message arrives, another small blip! cuts its way through whatever conversations the Airlocked! survivors might be having. But it isn't happening in the space limo this time - it's on the Temerity proper. Some of you are more acquainted with the computer system here, so you should know what that sound means.

You have new Spitter messages!]
airlockedmods: (PAL)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
Once everyone's in the dick limo and they've watched the Fantasy Sweet burn down behind them (dodging the flaming debris once the pressure builds up enough inside to make the whole thing go nuclear), it's off to the nearest fast food planet.

Which...is about five lightdays away.

Luckily for you, you have your very own Personal Artistic License to keep you entertained. So PAL bounces around the back of the limo, sitting in every lap that will have him, as he tells the story of Kip from the day he hatched as a tiny, impressionable smeet to present.

Sparing absolutely no detail.

Especially about the part where Kip failed his navigator's exam because he stopped at Then-Foodcourtia and crashed the ship into one of the greasy pustules that had sprouted on the planet's surface, destroying the aircraft and boiling his instructor alive in the fiery grease of hell.

So now there's a dick limo parked in the Sparby's parking lot. For anyone who had Arby's or Arby's-adjacent restaurants on their home planet... The menu's not much different. Everything meat-based is 100% beef, the milkshakes look delicious, and of course there are turnovers (apple, cherry, and chocolate).

Which... well, catch Kip and PAL in the corner shoving milkshakes and turnovers in their faces tbh.]

Welcome to Sparby's, Survivors.
You earned it.
theoverseen: (pic#11358850)
[personal profile] theoverseen
[Once all the votes are in, there's a hissing sound, like fog escaping a fog machine. However, there's no fog to be seen. Until you look up to the Overseer's booth, with its glass walls that are slowly becoming more opaque as the room fills with white smoke.

A bright bluish-white light illuminates what it can, from lights on top of and below the platform like a rock star stage. There's a barely-visible shadow, and the menacing cackle of a voice that you're all quite familiar with, even though you haven't heard it in a while.

And then the cackling turns into coughing and yelling.]


HGGCKKK! ACK! KHHCHKSH! HAKH AHAKH AHAKHAKH!!!!!

[The glass around the platform shatters from the blunt force of two long, spindly metal arms, and white smoke pours down from the Overseer's platform and to the floor, spilling out the long distance to the floor like medical-cherry-scented clouds.

The alien man is...a lot smaller than Kip, actually, held aloft by four long spider-like arms sticking out from somewhere on his back. And as soon as he stops choking on his own mistakes, the cackling resumes again.]


Behold!! Humans, robots, AI, and... anything else you may identify as! Your "Kip Larimer" does not exist! I, KIP! AM YOUR OVERLORD!
airlockedmods: (P.A.L.)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[After a while, the shaft in the middle of the elevator rises up again and glows a beckoning shade of blue. PAL the literal infant in the computer stopped responding somewhere when Queenie started throwing shit around, but the hum of the machinery goes quieter to match.

And when all 10 Champions get on the elevator and Junpei uses his robot hand to firmly grasp the shaft, the elevator rises back up into place. There are no new portraits, because nobody new has died. The only difference between now and the last time you were up here is the lack of stairs leading up to the Overseers' booth, and the complete lack of lighting aside from the blue glow on the shaft. As each Champion takes their place behind their podium, the rose on the front lights up red.

Sorry everybody, this trial is very #aesthetic, good luck reading your notes.]


Welcome, Champions, to the final trial aboard the Fantasy Sweet. At stake here is your freedom, and possibly your lives. Can you solve the mysteries of the Fantasy Sweet and earn your way out?

Compile your evidence. Discuss. And Vote.

This will all be over soon.


[Despite the lit-up roses, the voting panels remain dark and inactive.]
airlockedmods: (Default)
[personal profile] airlockedmods
[It's been a few days since more than one of the Champions have heard from PAL and by Wednesday afternoon this is still the case. The day starts off like the rest but around midday Cece is calling a meeting in the foyer.

Whatever it's about it seems important.]