Fall 2015 Test Drive

[raisednpcs]

Hello, and welcome to the test drive for Fall, 2015! Similar to last time, one of our test drive prompts is the same as an event presently going on in the game! And that's not all; both players in the game and out of it can treat everything that happens with these prompts as canon to the game, and that they happened concurrently with what's going on on the main community. So, if you're looking to apply to Raise the Earth, here's a chance to get in on the ground floor of what's happening in-game!

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[A - Factor Industries Charity Event]

Even for Benjamin Factor, arranging this charity event had been something of a challenge. Just as he held great influence in Gateway City, Thunder Corp's influence in Locke was great as well. But with time and money, all things were indeed possible in this case, and the Memorial Dance Hall was playing host to the night's events. It was a glamorous affair: politicians, captains of business, dignitaries, and celebrities had been invited. For whatever controversy that existed, the world legitimately wanted to heal the wounds left by the invasion, and that meant there were a lot of people who wanted to use events like this to either advance that cause, or to make themselves look good.

But they weren't the only sorts of individuals who had received an invitation.

Benjamin Factor had also made it so the Numbered would be invited to his little party. Arrivals through the teleporter would be greeted by drivers at the community center, and the same courtesy was extended to anyone who might live in Locke. The only stipulation? Was that anyone who came make an effort to make themselves presentable. If that was a problem, or anyone arrived without knowing, they had clothes on hand for people to change into.

Indeed, it seemed that the Numbered would be well provided for tonight. That being said, their presence would get people to talk, given the presence of news crews making live coverage. Nevertheless... "getting people to talk" seemed to be exactly what Benjamin Factor wanted to happen.

[This prompt is the same as this current event. You can have your character start a general mingle thread, but we ask that your character not serve as an event speaker for the test drive, as that's a rule best suited to characters already in the game.]

[B - Pest Control]

Beta testing. "A trial of machinery, software, or other products, in the final stages of its development, carried out by a party unconnected with its development." A crucial, important step in ironing out the "kinks" in something, to ensure it's ready for whatever it has been designed to do.

In the last weeks of October, someone is beta testing. Just what are they testing, you might wonder? Diminutive little robots with powerful, fangy jaws. They appear to be designed for pest control, and their hardware includes tracking software. Indeed, they're apparently being deployed in secret, acting autonomously in Gateway City, Locke City, Woodend, Christchurch, Tokyo, and even Shepherd's Haven. No one would see who is setting them loose, beyond nondescript men and women who disappear as quickly as they first emerged.

The robots are autonomous. They seek out their prey with zeal, without being controlled by a central source. Alone, a single machine is far from a threat, but they have been loosed in sizable groups, making them fairly dangerous. And it seems there's a bug: all animals are targets for these things, and they're not all. It seems they're capable of identifying another, more unique target: Anyone who might be Numbered.

[C - Sudden Storm]

Rain wasn’t planned today. The forecast had called for sun and minimal clouds, and a warm breeze. Instead, the falling drops seem to sparkle in the sunlight peeking through the clouds. Out a window, strolling down the street, sitting at a bus stop, it’s hard not to feel the drops coming down. And should you stop to stare at the rain for a bit, something seems to shift. A hollow feeling, a certain vertigo, that passes in a moment.

As it clears, something changes. A new memory, from a life that isn’t familiar and doesn’t make a whole lot of sense; a tingling at your fingertips of some new energy; a certain knowledge of the world that shocks you with the new information it provides; something in your hands you weren’t holding before. Maybe you’ve already had an Echo somehow, and you recognize the feeling; maybe you haven’t, and it brings back memories of the people talking about “pulses” on TV, what seems like forever ago. If the latter’s true, the fading sense leaves behind a number, that seems to worm its way into your mind and not leave. Does this mean… you’re Numbered, now?

[D - Network]

The number stuck in your head refuses to go away, so to work it out of your system, you decide writing it down on something is a good idea. Maybe you punched it into your phone; perhaps it’s on a piece of paper, or a mirror, or almost anything else.

The thing it’s on comes alive, filling with text and images. None of it was there before, and you can interact with it. Hundreds, maybe thousands of posts, all tagged with a number that looks similar to your own. Tales of fighting, of betrayal, of loss and sacrifice; stories of heroism, of gain, of victory and the elation attached. Questions about life, about the network, about the future of the Numbered. Idle conversation, videos of stupid things. Three years of history, from the beginning to the original incident on April 1, 2013, through to today.

You could add something. Clearly, it need not be profound, and if you don’t put a name, a face, or a voice to your number, nobody would ever know it’s you. It’s there, at your fingertips. What would you say…?


[E - Wild Card]

Don’t feel pressured to stick to our prompts - you’re welcome to do whatever strikes you. Lighthearted, serious, dangerous, mundane, spectacular… Raise the Earth is a game designed around everyday life getting a lot more interesting in a hurry. Play around with things!

Comments

[enflammen]

[Micah takes the correction with little more than a one-shouldered shrug. It's a small thing, not really worth arguing about.]

I haven't been a teen, much less a runaway, for years now. [He's factual about it, a little amused by the question; he chuckles, quietly.] Nah, the House got me all straightened out, turned me into a proper upstanding citizen. I've had a job and a place of my own for a while now. I'm on the up and up.

[And there's a hint of pride in what he says, because he beat the odds that were stacked against him, and he knows it. It's an accomplishment worth being proud of.]

[numberedshepherd]

The House?

[That piques his interest immediately, as well as his apprehension. He feels like he is walking on eggshells in so many ways, just because the very existence of his Other (and, by extension, Lazarus) can potentially cause a lot of upheaval for this relatively new member of the Network.]

I'm glad to hear about your success, but which House are you referring to?

[enflammen]

Father Quill's House for Wayward Boys, I think is what it was originally called, but most people go with Quill House, these days. Or just "the House," for those of us who lived there.

[He quirks an eyebrow; there's something like recognition in the question.]

You've heard of it?

[numberedshepherd]

Not of Quill's House for Wayward Boys, but one very like it.

[Unfortunately, he doesn't add. He hopes that this place was more... conducive to producing healthy members of society than the competitive, dead-eyed creatures that came out of Wammy's.]

Do any of your Pulses concern a similar house?

[enflammen]

I'm surprised - they do love their self-promotion.

[Which brings a bit of a wry smile to Micah's face.]

Nah, not really. Not as far as I can tell, anyway. There wasn't a whole lot that I could recognize of the room he was in when he blew himself up, and the place he left when he ran out ...

[Micah closes his eyes, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as he thinks back on the memory.]

It could've been anywhere. Big wrought iron gates, and it was raining. That's all I remember.

[The other man's questions seem oddly specific, though. Maybe ...]

Do you know something about this guy?

[numberedshepherd]

[There's a fairly long pause before Lazarus answers.]

Yes, actually. I do. The truth is, the two people whose memories we're getting back were fairly closely associated, and it's because of a house like the one you're describing. For wayward children, or at least those with no other home to go back to.

[enflammen]

Well. [He laughs, almost silent; his mouth presses into a thin line.] How do you like those odds.

[Not exactly a question, the way he says it - more of a statement uttered to fill the uncomfortable space left by the revelation.]

Whay else can you tell me?

[numberedshepherd]

That depends entirely on you. If I give you information, you might get echoes off of it, and you might not be happy with the results. They can change everything very quickly.

Given our close connection in that life, I do want us to at least be on good terms in this one. Consider me a messenger, rather than a judge or executioner, and I think we'll be OK.

[enflammen]

[Micah laughs again, quiet still but slightly more audible this time.]

You make it sound like we were mortal enemies or something.

[Which is an absurd thought; Micah's only just met this guy - if you can count talking with a disembodied voice a meeting.]

[numberedshepherd]

No, that wasn't the case, no matter how you look at it.

[He at least sounds certain of that much.]

What do you want to know, Micah?

[enflammen]

I dunno ... with a dire warning like that, maybe I'm better off being left in the dark.

[numberedshepherd]

If you're sure, then I won't say.

[enflammen]

You can't give everything away all at once, right? Spoils the mystery.

[Micah gives the camera a wry half-smile.]

Anyway, I don't know that I'm actually going to join up for ... whatever it is you do. I've got plenty of work here.

[numberedshepherd]

There will always be no shortage of mysteries. My tendency is to take every opportunity for certainty that I can find; that being said, I am envious of people who are content to leave some stones unturned.

[He might or might not be smiling, but that monotone makes it really difficult to tell.]

What is your work? If that's information you don't mind sharing.

[enflammen]

I don't mind. It's not a secret.

[Shrug.]

I work at one of the relief centers. Youth outreach, mostly, but they shuffle us around where we're needed most.

pretend that didn't happen

[numberedshepherd]

Do you?

[He sounds a little more surprised than is probably polite, but social skills were never Lazarus' strong point, even before he started echoing back the champion of not caring about them.]

Is helping people that important to you? It's very admirable, if so.

i saw nothing c8

[enflammen]

[Good thing Micah's more or less used to that sort of reaction; he shrugs it off.]

I guess. It's a better use of my time and talents than sitting around waiting to get put back on full duty while a bunch of doctors and administrators dick around with paperwork. I've never done well with just sitting around. Idle hands, you know.

[Again, he shrugs.]

I guess I figured - kids on the street. I used to be one of 'em. Kinda makes me an expert on the subject, right? Why not.

[numberedshepherd]

["I guess" doesn't sound particularly committed, but it sounds honest, at least.]

Yes, I know.

[Probably better than you think or can guess.]

What would you be waiting for the doctors and administrators to d-- do? It sounds like this is something you're doing to pass the time and not your normal vocation.

[enflammen]

Well, it wasn't, until a few months ago. I used to be a firefighter, until this happened.

[He gestures to the left side of his face again, half-frowning.]

They said it was probably faulty equipment in the investigation, but they couldn't really find any evidence of tampering or defect. And they put me on medical leave and refused to take me off. I got bored. So I quit. Found something else to do.

[Micah says all of this in a fairly matter-of-fact manner, but there's a sharp edge to the way he speaks the words, a slight narrowing of his eyes. It's a situation that's irritating at best, infuriating at worst.]

[numberedshepherd]

[There's a silence of a few ticks.]

I'm truly sorry. I know what it's like to be barred from the job you want. It's probably the worst feeling ever. At least you didn't let your boredom control your life and paralyze you; that's a very real risk no matter how strong you are.

[enflammen]

You know that from experience, huh?

[He's said as much; repeating it is Micah's sideways manner of inviting more detail, if Lazarus wishes to go on.]

Yeah, well. Like I said, I don't do well with just sitting around. Being unproductive makes me feel all antsy. Bodies were needed; I was available. Seemed like a no-brainer.

[What Micah doesn't say, though, is that he truly does find satisfaction in helping others. It's never something he's been inclined to explicate in thise exact words, but with what his life handed him, he knows there was an element of luck in how he was able to turn circumstances around and do better. He knows a lot of people never brush up against that kind of luck, and if he can help create it - well, there's a certain kind of power to be found there.]

[numberedshepherd]

It was a long time ago, but yeah. I wanted to be a cop.

[Any bitterness in his voice is indiscernible, although this would have been a very different story a couple of years ago. He held that grudge for a long time.]

How long were you homeless, and how did you get by during those years?

[enflammen]

A cop, huh? That's a pretty noble calling - "protect and serve," all that. Bummer.

[There's a note of genuine sympathy, despite the semi-flippant response he gives. Having your dreams held out of reach is a difficult reality to reconcile.

Micah regards the camera with a bit of a wary eye at the next question.]

Do you really want to know my whole dumb life saga? I don't mind talking about it, I just don't get why it would be of interest to you, past lives or otherwise.

[numberedshepherd]

I think it's one of life's great ironies that we tend to admire the things that we're ill-suited for, because what seems remarkable to a man is often what he sees as unattainable for himself. It might have been like that.

[Lazarus thinks he can pick up on that genuineness; though the young man affects carelessness, there's something sincere underlying it. That's probably why he says as much as he does about a past that is pitiful at best and mortifying at worst.]

Lives are of interest to me. I think they make a person who they are, and regardless of what happened in another life, every Numbered was a complete person even before they got their first echo.

[Well, almost every Numbered. Lazarus can't honestly claim that he doesn't see himself as an empty, nihilistic void that his echoes granted form and purpose.]

cw domestic + child abuse

[enflammen]

Yeah ... what's that thing people say about God's sense of humor?

[He shakes his head, smiling grimly. Everything about the Numbered speaks to direct opposition of everything he's ever known about God. A puzzle to be unpacked at another time, perhaps.]

All right.

[It's as good an answer as any, and Micah meant what he said earlier - he doesn't mind talking about his past. It's been the subject of Quill House promotional pieces for years.

Micah takes a deep breath, bows his head, considers where to begin. With the question Lazarus asked, he figures - that's as good a place as any.]

I was homeless, as in living on the streets, for about six months, when I was fifteen, but I hadn't really had a home for three years before that. It's not really your home when you're in foster care - you're just visiting.

[Which is a point he'll circle back to. First, the other part of Lazarus' question.]

What I did was ... well, what most people do in that situation, I guess. You find places to squat, dig through dumpsters. You steal what's necessary to survive. Sometimes you run scams, though that usually takes more effort than it's worth. Some people panhandle, but that wasn't really my style.

[He sucks on his front teeth, silent for a moment as he runs backward through his memory.]

How I got there ... like I said, I was in foster care for a few years. My dad died when I was two, so I never knew him, and my mom ... she was all right, except for getting hooked on meth. Said she needed a little help working two jobs to keep a roof over our heads. Things weren't great, but we were doing OK, until she got remarried.

[Here his expression darkens, mouth forming a thin line, jaw taut.]

He was a drunk, and he was an asshole besides. I used to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of him beating her up. He got sloppy with me, though - CPS got involved when I started showing up to school with black eyes and bruises. I was twelve when they got their parental rights terminated.