wriggedywrecked: (one hundred years rick and morty dot com)
[personal profile] wriggedywrecked
[The camera is bouncing along rhythmically as its owner walks, and is broadcasting a lovely view of the first floor hallway. It's some kind of weird over the shoulder shot, because the hallway is receding away as Rick continues forward. There's what appears to be a very long trail of wetness leading back a good fifty or so yards down the hallway, and occasionally a red container of some kind will swing partially into view.]

[Rick curses and the view turns over several times as he tries to get the camera positioned the right way. He ends up settling on tucking it sort of under his arm so that the camera is facing up toward his face. Though he's not looking at the camera--he's looking straight ahead, and he is very clearly just as exhausted as everyone else is for this event.]

[He also looks fairly crazed. And he's accompanied by the occasional splashing sound.]


See, that's how th-th-they make it authentic. M-Make it so y-y-you think your phone is working. But it's, it's fucking logic. Y-You're not exactly, uh, g-gonna get Facebook out in the middle of space. Fucking...fucking amateurs.

[He pauses and sucks in a rather frantic-sounding breath through his teeth.]

I mean, I-I knew it was too good to be true. T-Too fucking good to be true. I-I'm suddenly back here? Just like, like, like fucking that? After all that goddamn b-b-bullshit? No fucking way. It's obvious. Only--god fuck, you can't just, just overload the processors l-l-like with the, with the, the, those--the Sigerians, you kn-know? N-Not enough people here to...

Anyway, I'm just fucking explaining this t-to empty air. N-None of you are even real. N-None of this is f-fucking real. Oh my god, what are th-they doing to me?

[He starts giggling a little.]

Too, hahahaha, too fucking bad they, they, they wouldn't have enough processing power to write self-preservation scripts for a-about a hundred or so fake people, right? Mis-fucking-calculation, c-cause guess what happens when you get allllll those fake people to fake burn simultaneously? Bet they weren't expecting this shit. Bet they weren't expecting ol' Rick to still have a f-fucking ace up his sleeve! They don't get to fucking play games with me! They wanna tangle with Rick, well, surprise fucko, n-not enough cooling units on your fucking station to deal with this!!

Haha, t-talk about melting a few CPUs, a-am I right? Am I right?

[There's the sound of the last drops of liquid leaving a container, then a hollow clunk as said container is dropped onto the floor.]

Fuck, I'm gonna need more. Sh-Should have switched off the closet subroutines, huh?

[ooc: anyone who would like to stop Rick from burning down the mansion is free to find him on the first floor :) otherwise, he's going to pass out pretty soon and the worst anyone will have to deal with is a lingering smell of gasoline.]

001 Video

Dec. 20th, 2016 02:19 pm
sicvitaest: (spes bona)
[personal profile] sicvitaest
I don’t remember asking for a vacation. Call me cynical, but really just call me Arcade, there has to be a catch. Cui bono?

Wouldn’t it be nice if this was all just a happy circumstance that we’ve turned up in a place that didn’t want something from us? Rad-free food, no deathclaws chasing you down, no drugged up fiends. This is Heaven. Or close to it.

[The video finally focuses, and the man behind the rambling comes into view. He looks like he hasn't slept in a few days. Partially because he found a library with every book his heart desired.

The device he’d received looked much like a pip-boy, though he wasn’t familiar with one personally. The courier had one and would let Arcade watch old holotapes on it from time to time. This recording function was entirely new to him. The fact that you could project yourself onto other devices live was completely fascinating to the doctor.]


I’d like to know more about the inhabitants. [He adjusts his glasses] What information have you been fed and what part of it is actually truth?
choosetruth: (write it in ink or in blood)
[personal profile] choosetruth
Video

[For once, Georgia's actually using video. She's probably staring at the camera since where else would she be looking, but with her usual dark sunglasses on, it's hard to tell. She doesn't smile when she starts to speak.]

I'm looking for any Wonderland residents who have had encounters with Mirrors. I'd like to ask you a few questions to help with an article I intend to write about Wonderland and the nature of the Mirrorside.

Thank you.

[She disconnects.]

Action/Mirror Writing

[Georgia's interested in more than just the Real perspective on things. Every story has two sides, and the only way to find the truth of the matter is to hear them both. And the only way to communicate with them is to write on the mirrors. Pity a lifetime of computer usage means her handwriting is less than perfect, and that's when writing the usual direction, not backwards.

She sits in one of the tearooms next to a mirror, uncovered for once. She's frowning as she glares at it through her sunglasses. Usually her weird eyes make one-way mirrors useless, but these aren't real one-way mirrors. They're fucking magic. She'll be going in blind. She's written out what she wanted to say beforehand, though, so she can place it against the mirror and carefully write out each letter. It may not win and penmanship awards, but it's legible.]


Hello, residents of the Mirror Side. My name is Georgia Mason, head of the Factual News Devision of After the End Times.

[Not that most of them will know the paper, but establishing credentials is important. She's not just anyone. She's a journalist.]

I'm hoping I can interview a few of you for an article I'm writing about Wonderland and the nature of the Mirrorside. I want to make sure I get the perspective of people who live there so that I can keep my article as factual and free as bias as possible.

Thank you for your time.


[Then she sits back to wait. Whatever happens next, it should at least be interesting.]
determinedest: (* All you can do is FIGHT.)
[personal profile] determinedest
[The feed, when it clicks on, does not have highly auspicious beginnings. The lens is tilted skyward, granting everyone a lovely shot of the iron-gray sky. It's been raining. You can almost smell the peppery sting of petrichor, the clinging of the after-dew to blades of grass.

With the soft tick of someone's fingers fumbling over the microphone, the camera tips down until the visual is of a grassy field just outside the gardens. It's a spot Frisk commonly frequents, even as the weather grows colder.

Speaking of Frisk, they take their time adjusting the picture before they eventually enter the frame. They've got their overlarge jacket on and the cap of white wool perched on their head, and a familiar object in their hands. They settle down with their back to the camera, the slender tip of their ukulele peeking out by their shoulder, as they begin to play the instrument with slow, deliberate strums from their bandaged fingers.

Maybe you've heard the tune before.

When the impromptu performance is finished, Frisk turns their face to the camera. Their expression is as contained as always, but not, as it has been for a disproportionately long time, wholly devoid of emotion. Their eyes, when they flick them up to at last to regard the lens directly, are a dark and rusted red, perhaps a few shades darker than Chara's. They can't maintain the proverbial eye contact for long, and their eyes shutter to half-mast again.]


I've been acting kind of weird lately.

[Kind of weird. Between the way they tore through the world, mined all the numbers from the workings of the g̵̜͍ͦ̎̚͘á͉̄̇̂͠ͅm͏̨̨̬̖̋̚e̶̛̪ͤ᷅͂͝ they Played, the way they couldn't feel anything - Chara gone, and now the absence aches like a scab torn newly open, a limb newly cracked in two.

They've probably already...

Yes. Probably. If they found out, that is. Leonard needs to know it wasn't his fault. A lot of people need to know it wasn't their fault. Chara. Sans. Alphys. Ford. Mabel. Dipper. Stanley. Zacharie.

Mettaton.]


Sorry.

[A blanket apology, not nearly sufficient, and then a pause. It's not clear to where their gaze redirects itself, or if it does at all; their stare is flat, and difficult to perceive.]

...I'm better now.

[One corner of their mouth lifts in a smile, a reassuringly organic expression.

Then the video ends.]
normandysbest: (« [Disgust] Don't talk 2 me or my son)
[personal profile] normandysbest
[The video comes on to show Shepard's face, looking like she is a hairline trigger from 'irritated' to 'might rend something with her bare hands', but really, can best be described as 'done with her entire life, and looking into the camera like she's on the Office as demons scream behind her. In literal Hell'.]

Alright. This probably should've been expected out of this place eventually. But y'know what? Nope. Not doing this like we've done the last couple events. 'Mm just not.

[She pans the camera around to display her surroundings, about in the middle of the 'camp' they all seem to have been dumped in.]

No more divide and falter. If you can fight, and you don't want to sit here and deal with this crap anymore, meet me here in the next half an hour. I'm setting up patrols and watches until Wonderland remembers it's ass from it's head. No shame if you can't, complete shame if you won't.

[Usually she'd smile or do a mock salute, but she's just... she's just done. She's so fucking done.]

See you soon. Don't die.
forwearemany: (Nodata)
[personal profile] forwearemany

(It has been several days. They do not believe she will return.)

Creator Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Normandy is gone.

craterwave: (09)
[personal profile] craterwave
Hey. [A woman with a shaved head, covered toe to tip in tattoos squats into view of the camera. She's actually wearing a shirt today, graciously.] Read your brochure. Got some feedback. If your intended audience doesn't have a clue what a fucking microwave does, just give 'em up as a lost cause. That's just sad.

Models here are real vintage, though. The whole place is. I see what you're going for, and, I gotta say, I really hate it.

Tell me someone around here's not just lying back and taking it from Wonderland, [she says the name with appropriate disdain and mocking,] and there are actually people trying to break out. I don't think I can take another second of this place. "Hey! Free room and board as long as you stay forever and give up all your memories!" Right. Like I'm really gonna take that.

Jack out. [She does a little mock salute and switches off the feed.]

[If anyone notices any fallen, destroyed trees in a path through the forest, uh, guilty. A couple hours later, Jack can be found wandering around on the grounds trying to find where she destroyed the trees earlier. It's like she was never there at all.

Experimentally, she clenches her fist, which starts to glow blue, and she punches another hole into a tree. She's gonna check that again later.
]

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