Maid to Love You - A Clockwork Romance

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  • Informational
    • Maid to Love You
    A Clockwork Romance

    Miss Jane Eleanor Polestar
    The player character. An 18 (nearly 19!) year old woman, next in line to the County of Polaris, wandering the galaxy in search of love aboard MSY Mercury. You vote on her actions, but her perspective here is limited.

    Mark Butler
    Miss Polestar's robotic butler, and head of the servant staff. He is tasked primarily with management, but also acts as valet to any male visitors.

    Marie Lady's Maid
    The viewpoint character. A newly activated robotic servant who acts as Miss Polestar's lady's maid. Though witty and sharp, some quirk of her construction has intensified both her physical and emotional sensitivity. Is inexplicably French.

    Pierre Chef
    Miss Polestar's robotic cook, responsible for the kitchen and larder. He is noted to have loose association with many lovers in many ports.

    Tom Mechanic
    Miss Polestar's robotic handyman, who also helps to maintain the other machines.

    Tessa Mechanic
    Miss Polestar's robotic handywoman, who is hired later in the story. She has greatly modified her own body, and has a complicated history.

    Hans Messenger
    Miss Polestar's robotic messenger, who manages the mail, prints newspapers, delivers messages, and manages the property of guests. Is inexplicably German.

    Amber Housemaid
    Miss Polestar's robotic housemaid, who keeps MSY Mercury clean and tidy. Noted to have two large, orange headlamp eyes. Is inexplicably American.

    Polly Kitchen Maid
    Miss Polestar's robotic kitchen maid, who assists Pierre in making food. Also the head of the serving staff's union, a position she does not take very seriously.

    Content Warning
    This quest is an erotic romance. There will be sexual content, and it will not be separated from the main text or spoiler tagged. You have been warned.​
     
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  • Informational
    • [X] There is a historical production currently ongoing at a local theatre, and Mr Fullmore has secured tickets for you, Marie, himself and his valet, a rather nice young machine named James. It is supposed to be an excellent show.

    also can I just say that that last chapter was.... well I think Marie may need to refuel her coolant cause she seemed to be overheating a whole lot.
     
    [X] There is a historical production currently ongoing at a local theatre, and Mr Fullmore has secured tickets for you, Marie, himself and his valet, a rather nice young machine named James. It is supposed to be an excellent show.

    Why do I suspect that someone is going to be nitpicking "historical accuracy" throughout the entire play. :V
     
    Rocketeer said:
    [X] There is a historical production currently ongoing at a local theatre, and Mr Fullmore has secured tickets for you, Marie, himself and his valet, a rather nice young machine named James. It is supposed to be an excellent show.

    also can I just say that that last chapter was.... well I think Marie may need to refuel her coolant cause she seemed to be overheating a whole lot.
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    I just had the very funny mental image that every time Marie gets turned on you hear the sound of a loud computer fan starting up lol.
     
    [X] The next game of the season is about to take place! The New Atlantis Argonauts are playing against the New Brahe Tychonauts! You are rather excited, as you have never been to a football game before!
     
    Welp, that was certainly an update. It definitely confirms that Marie is into ladies in general. Also, machine brains are explicitly based off of human brains. Hm... Marie seems to have sensory processing difficulties beyond what's typical for machines. Interesting.

    Also, machines can apparently acquire synthetic vulvas. I wonder if the modifications have more pleasure sensors than their default crotch configuration. Alternatively, maybe they're primarily intended to lessen dysphoria. Machines have all seemed fairly comfortable with their bodies so far, but, as modified human minds, some machines may still long for bodies made of flesh instead of ceramic.

    .... and now I'm imaging all the kinky things you can do with thinking machines that don't have to stop to breathe, eat, pee, or stretch. Oh, and you wouldn't have to worry about restricted blood flow or positional asphyxia during bondage! Neat.

    [X] There is a historical production currently ongoing at a local theatre, and Mr Fullmore has secured tickets for you, Marie, himself and his valet, a rather nice young machine named James. It is supposed to be an excellent show.

    I'm voting for the event that gives Mr. Fullmore the least opportunity to talk... unless he speaks during the show. Ooh, if he's awful enough, maybe we can get him thrown out!
     
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    ancusohm said:
    Welp, that was certainly an update. It certainly confirms that Marie is into ladies in general. Also, machine brains are explicitly based off of human brains. Hm... Marie seems to have sensory processing difficulties beyond what's typical for machines. Interesting
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    Given that her brain runs off a nineteenth century conception of how the mind works,I think it's simple.

    Marie is "very sensitive, with a keen and fine awareness, like the upper classes," whereas robots are typically designed to be "robust and practical, unconcerned with things that are properly the preserve of their betters, like the lower classes."

    The trope that a highly bred and properly brought up person, particularly a lady, just plain feels more keenly, and that this can apply to anything (e.g. fainting spells when 'overstimulated' by a music hall or a fast ride in a vehicle, et cetera), is quite straightforward. And I'm pretty sure that if you look, you'll find this notion that 'sensitivity in general' exists on a spectrum, that the elites are naturally at the high end and the hoi polloi at the low end, is all over Victorian literature.

    Since in this society we appear to have something vaguely reminiscent of Asimov's Solaria, with every human (?) we've seen on screen having robot servants, and with robots being coded 'lower class' and the only humans we've seen on screen being upper or middle class, it fits that the robots are mostly designed to be robust, relatively less sensitive to stimuli, and unlikely to get caught up in their emotions. That's a privilege only the elite has, you see, and the neural architecture of the setting's robots is configured accordingly.
     
    Nah, Marie has been explicitly noted to have unusual sensory responses to a lot of things. It's Robo-ASD. None of the other Maidbots seemed to have any sort of issues and everyone is constantly surprised by how sensitive she is to... external stimuli. That wouldn't happen if she'd been designed like that to a standard pattern.
     
    FrangibleCover said:
    Nah, Marie has been explicitly noted to have unusual sensory responses to a lot of things. It's Robo-ASD.
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    Uh... ASD as in autism spectrum disorder?

    Because aside from sensory processing issues, she shows basically no signs of being on the spectrum that I can see.

    Even within the bounds of treating her like her psychiatric makeup is identical to that of a human, I'm pretty sure no pro would diagnose Marie as being on the spectrum. There are a number of other things that involve sensory processing disorders, and are not autism.

    So no, I don't think she has robo-ASD. She specifically, specifically, is acutely sensitive (by robot standards) to stimuli of... basically all kinds. Everything from pain to cold to music to inherent imprinting on her mistress causing her to fall in love at first sight. The autism spectrum doesn't do that, and it does lots of other things that aren't that.

    None of the other Maidbots seemed to have any sort of issues and everyone is constantly surprised by how sensitive she is to... external stimuli. That wouldn't happen if she'd been designed like that to a standard pattern.
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    You make a correct observation, which I think is explained better by a different hypothesis.

    Namely, that her psychological makeup is fundamentally nonhuman in that it is structured after a nineteenth century conception of how human psychology works. That is to say, an incorrect conception.

    The designers of the earliest robots, in my hypothesis, actually designed robot brains to emulate the way that 19th century people thought the human mind worked. Which includes, effectively, a "sensitivity to stimuli" slider bar. The robot designers then proceeded to dial this sensitivity slider down to like 1 or 2 out of 10. Due to some accident, Marie was built (or booted up) with it set to 10 out of 10.

    She is in all other ways a more or less neurotypical robot, except for that one thing.

    Yes, human beings don't work that way. But the steampunk Victorian AI programmers who designed Marie's underlying neural architecture in the early days of the self-aware automaton-making industry believed human beings worked that way. So Marie works that way.

    And as we've seen from the fact that there hasn't been a war of any consequence since the days of Napoleon in this setting... Well, clearly, in this timeline, the beliefs of steampunk Victorian people are powerful enough to override trivial nonsense such as "basic logic and common sense." :p
     
    Simon_Jester said:
    Due to some accident, Marie was built (or booted up) with it set to 10 out of 10
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    May not be an accident. It's noted that her "brand" of robots is made by a group which prides itself on their artistry, and where each robot is thus unique.

    This could be their latest idea, a robot with the full range of human emotion, and the ability to be used as a flotation device.
     
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    Just to sort of address some of the speculation, it isn't a spoiler to say the intent is in fact to present Marie's experiences as analogous to real life neurodivergence and echo some ASD stuff, though it isn't quite a 1-1 comparison. We think that's an interesting and nuanced way to present the cliche of 'One of them is Just Different' that these stories often hinge on. Plus, I personally think it's great fun to subvert the tendency in fiction to present autistic people as robotic by having the autistic robot be more human than most...
     
    XIII - Diagnosis
  • Threadmarks
    • With the help of a short notice moving company and some dockworkers, we soon had the storage room cleared out. The remodellers would be coming to properly fix it up (Miss Polestar wanted a large window in the far wall and appropriate markings on the floor for regulation fencing), but in the meanwhile the two of us walked the space out to size it. Miss Polestar then wanted to practice for an hour, so we did, mostly focusing on the foil today.

    "So how was your party?" she asked, as we reset back to our starting positions.

    "It was… interesting." I replied carefully. "Very loud."

    "Oh, I was worried about that. Here, no, don't bend your wrist like that...."

    She shuffled sideways to show me the proper technique, and I adjusted to match. Well, as best I could: my miss is left-handed, but she wanted me to affect a right-handed grip so she can practice as she would against most of the opponents she would face. It makes no difference to me, save the extra work of having to mirror all her instructions.

    We then returned to our positions and activated our swords, their faint silver shine crossing between us.

    "You were worried, miss?" I asked, a little surprised, and a little curious.

    "I've noticed you don't always handle noise or crowds very well. I feel a little terrible for constantly dragging you into them." she said, a little thoughtful as she adjusted her footing.

    "It's perfectly fine. Are we going to start?"

    "Right, yes. Three… two… one…"

    Miss Polestar was mostly interested in practicing her defense today, and she'd taught me a few basic patterns previously. I would inch forward, decide on one, and move, watching to see if I could make her flinch or misstep. Though I wasn't very good, I was so much taller than Miss Polestar that it was still very much a challenge, apparently. Not that I could tell, as she effortlessly stepped out of or batted aside my every move.

    Still, I was new, and getting better.

    "It isn't just fine, Marie. Have you talked to Tom about it?" Miss Polestar asked, as we once again reset after our largest bout yet (about fifteen seconds).

    "Yes, he couldn't figure it out. I'm going to be visiting a proper engineer today during my time off." I replied, and she looked annoyed at that. "Sorry, miss?"

    "Keeping one's staff maintained is an employer's duty, you don't have to spend your own time and money on that." she said sternly. "Besides, Mark is interviewing for Tom's new assistent today, we could have mentioned it on the ad."

    "Sorry, miss. The appointment is already set, though." I explained.

    "At least bring me the invoice… okay, you want to try with your left?"

    I switched hands, and we tried again. This time, for the first time ever, I actually managed to poke her in the shin with the end of the blade, and she shivered a second from the slightly unnerving sensation.

    "Nicely done!"

    "Your leg was extended too far, miss, you couldn't move back enough."

    "You hold your blade differently… oh, because of where mine is! Ah, okay, let's try again."

    This time, I didn't even get close.

    "So… who's the boy you went with?" she asked, as she sat to catch her breath, flexing one of her deactivated foils idly. I considered my answer carefully, and found myself both not particularly wanting to lie to my Miss, even if it was merely misleading her through omission and her own assumptions, yet I was also terrified of telling her the truth and having her see me differently.

    "Strangely enough, it was Mister Fullmore's valet James-"

    "Oh stars, really? That's so cute, don't you think? Oh, tomorrow's football game will almost be a double date then… you're looking at me weird. Oh, did it go poorly? Oh no!" she said in a tumble.

    "Not precisely. To tell the truth, I was not interested in him in the first place, and we went together as friends." I said, considering my next words carefully. I thought perhaps I should hint, without being bold or crass about it. "He very much isn't my type, if you get my meaning."

    "Mmmhm. Look at you, you already have a type. Meanwhile I'm out here... flailing trying to figure these boys out, like… mercy, I'm hopeless, Marie. Completely." she said, sounding exasperated.

    "It has been two weeks, Miss, and humans are much more complicated. Even the men, I suspect." I said, and that had her laughing.

    "Even them, imagine. Honestly, it feels sometimes like men are… a different species or something. Talking with the Lieutenant could be like fencing, sometimes, all feints and footwork, and he was nice…"

    Unlike Mister Fullmore, I thought.

    "You're also very nervous, I imagine, that can't make things easier." I pointed out, and she buried her head in her arms in despair.

    "Of course I'm nervous! I'm trying to be all seventy things a woman needs to be for a man, while also trying to figure out if he's going to be somebody I can tolerate for the rest of my life! Like with the Lieutenant, four days to figure out if I can tolerate him for the next… what, a hundred and fifty years?"

    "Possibly longer, if medical science keeps advancing." I pointed out.

    "Possibly longer! Stars, Marie, it's like defusing a powder charge or something! Like with Mister Fullmore… oh, he's so smart, Marie, it seems like he knows something about everything, and I could listen to him talk for hours, but is that enough? What is enough?"

    I thought back to their previous meeting, and found myself severely doubting she could listen to Mister Fullmore speak for hours. Not only was he apparently an excruciating pain to have to socialize with, but Miss Polestar couldn't much do anything for hours, as best I could tell.

    "I'm afraid I don't know, Miss." I replied neutrally.

    "Mother said that there's no such thing as love at first sight, but by her second date with my father she just knew he was the one. She said he was polite, he was smart, he could make her laugh… I've found those things in men, but I haven't just known. And she was a year younger than I! Almost two, I think… oh, stars, my birthday is very soon, you know?"

    You see? She couldn't even stay on a conversation topic for its duration. It is fascinating to see her mind jump to these connections.

    "We'll need to be sure to celebrate." I said.

    "Yeah…" she sighed, staring at the ceiling, "This'll be my first birthday away from school. First in seven years away from the girls. I miss my friends something terrible. I could actually talk to them."

    I didn't much know what to say to that, so I stayed quiet.

    "At least I have you." she muttered.

    ---

    The following day, I found myself sitting in a waiting room at the engineer Gladys had recommended to me. When I was walking there, I had thought that perhaps I would be the only one there, but I was surrounded by several other female machines. The engineer we were waiting for was likewise female, it wouldn't be proper to have ladies such as ourselves be tended to by a man, after all.

    I did wonder what had brought these other fine machines here, by my reckoning, none of them had any obvious problems, though I supposed the same could be said for myself. It occured to me that some of them may be here for… upgrades, of the sort I was now familiar with, and I'll admit I spent about a minute hiding behind my hands, ashamed to have even thought about it.

    In an attempt to distract myself somewhat, I cast my eyes across the magazines waiting on a nearby table. There was everything from fashion magazines for the discerning machine, numerous gossip rags about local celebrities, and one brochure advertising numerous… upgrades for the interested individual.

    They said take one, so I did. Discreetly. I haven't looked at it.

    ---

    Eventually I was called in to see the engineer, a Mrs Dorothy who warmly greeted me and sat me down on her workbench to look me over, one eye hidden behind a monocle lens to enhance her already fine vision.

    "What seems to be amiss, miss?" she asked, her voice mirthful. It was good she could keep a sense of humour in this work.

    "M-my nerves, I'm afraid." I said, the problem suddenly feeling very real as I did. "I find myself frequently overwhelmed by noise, the texture of clothing, touch, proximity of others in crowds, pain, and temperature. In these moments, it is like experiencing a power surge. Not painful, but overridingly distressing. It is often so bad I need to remove myself. It is affecting my work." I explained in a rush. "I am sure something is wrong."

    I watched a projected eyebrow rise on her face as she looked me over.

    "Curious. That does sound quite unusual, and quite distressing. You're new, yes?" she asked.

    "Sixteen days since activation, yes." I explained.

    "And it has persisted since activation?"

    "Among the first things I felt was discomfort at the texture of my skirt touching my legs." I said, the memory vivid. "My regular mechanic suspected a pinched wire, but couldn't find one."

    The engineer scribbled something down, then nodded.

    "I suspect the issue is likely more fundamental, yes. I think I'm going to want to take a look at your processors. Turn around, if you please, I'm going to be removing the rear of your skull to… oh. You look distressed."

    I was distressed.

    "Last… last time I was being maintained, trying to remove a plate in my thigh, the pain was so great that I could not stand it. I had to be nearly knocked out musically before he could manage." I explained.

    "... oh, that is unfortunate. Hmm. I am going to try something a bit novel." she said.

    "That is very reassuring language to hear from one's engineer." I quipped, and she laughed as she busied herself at her workbench.

    "You'll be in no danger, it just might not work. I'm going to use an electrical current to disrupt your touch receptors.Come sit in this chair please.."

    I could feel something, electrodes I presume, being placed on my neck, then the doctor walked in front of me holding a dial connected by wire.

    "Now, I am going to turn this dial up here. You should feel a tingle, growing slightly stronger before your touch receptors are disrupted, at which point you will feel nothing from them. If you feel any pain, you must tell me immediately. Understood?"

    "Y-yes. I understand." It was a struggle to hide my nerves, and I do not think I was even remotely successful as Mrs Dorothy patted my hand in a surprisingly reassuring gesture. I was braced for it to be terrible: I confess I am already used to hearing that something will be just a slight sensation and then being immediately overwhelmed. But this time, at least, it was as she said, a slight tingle, a sensation nearly, though not entirely, like something was crawling across me, then nothing.

    "Are you alright?"

    "I am."

    "Alright. Should that change, let me know. I am going to remove the four bolts keeping the lower rear plate of your skull in place. You should feel nothing, but..."

    I didn't feel anything, it's true, but I flinched anyway as the tool started.

    "Pain?"

    "The sound." I said, referring to the high pitched whine of the tool. A second later, I had a pair of fluffy earmuffs on, of the type I had seen before, and the sound continued, but muted and much more tolerable. After a moment, the earmuffs were removed, along with a weight on the back of my head.

    "All done, dear. Do you want to hold the piece? Some machines find it amusing."

    I recoiled a little.

    "Absolutely not."

    "Fair enough." she said, and I heard a slight clank from behind me as she set the back of my skull down gently. "Right. Let's have a look."

    A heard a lamp activate behind me, the light casting a shadow impression of my head against the far wall, and shifting as the engineer checked, murmuring to herself. She asked me questions as she worked, which she was probably using to try and disguise the very long time this was taking.

    "So, tell me about yourself. How has your first two weeks been? Besides all this."

    "Fairly good, I suppose." I said. "I don't have much to compare it to, obviously, but I enjoy my work, and my coworkers are pleasant."

    "Always a good thing to get along with your coworkers. Any hobbies yet?"

    "I've been passing the time with card games, a lot. And reading, as well, I've just started Sense and Sensibility. Oh, and… I suppose fencing, I think?"

    "You think?"

    "Well, it's really more of my miss' hobby and I am merely practicing with her, but I enjoy it quite a bit beyond merely assisting her, so it is ambiguous, if you understand?"

    "Ah, alright. Fencing… sounds like you have a very adventurous charge on your hands."

    "Adventure suits Miss Polestar, I feel. She is a very dynamic person."

    "Hm." she muttered a moment, then the quality of light coming from behind me changed and became brighter and whiter. "Go on. What sort of things does she get up to?"

    I began explaining what we were doing out here, and soon began rambling about Miss Polestar more generally as it became clear she wanted me to keep talking. It is a very easy thing for me to do, you understand. All the while, I thought I could hear her shuffling around inside my head, the gentle tap of tools against the silicon boards stacked there which constituted my brain, though I may have just been imagining it.

    "Okay. Well, I can say a few things. One, you are clearly very invested in your work, which is good, though I would perhaps suggest you be more careful. Your affections are fairly obvious."

    "... oh. But it is just because I am new, right? It will fade?"

    "At this point? I don't think you are just confused, my dear. I'm not judging, now, to each their own, but there are machines who will. There are many who see such things as taking advantage, given the fragility of the human heart." she said.

    I sat in silence for a few minutes. I was, perhaps, too obvious.

    "Nothing will come of it, of course." I said. I hated those words, as true as they were.

    "I just wanted to make sure you avoid undue judgement from your peers. Now… physically, you are in perfect shape. There is nothing wrong with you whatsoever." she said.

    "That can't be true. Do you not believe me?"

    "Oh, I believe you, I am just saying there is no error from which these results stem. Nothing is loose or missing, there is no damage, everything is pristine. You should run a century without intervention, though do come in for checkups just in case." she said as she scribbled something down on a notepad, "I've marked on your chart our solution today, so any maintenance should be much easier. But this is not a matter for repairs, you see."

    "I don't, sorry."

    "You merely have a greater degree of processing power allocated for the processing of certain impulses. Above the normal range of distribution, yes, but not in error. You aren't malfunctioning."

    "Can you change it?"

    "Not particularly, not without inhibiting-"

    "Please."

    "- let your engineer finish. Not without inhibiting some vital processes in ways that will be far more disruptive to your life, so no. Instead, we will have to talk about mitigation strategies, alright?"

    ----

    So that is what we did, for the next half hour or so. I acquired a pair of earmuffs as I'd seen, as well as a much more discreet set that would merely reduce noise instead of deaden it entirely, for working in crowds and other loud areas. She praised some of my adaptive solutions and suggested additions, such as gloves for working with materials that I found irritating, and she suggested I keep a record of things which caused me distress and any solutions I discovered, to make planning easier. I have started doing so in the margins.

    The back of my head reattached (we nearly forgot! That would have been embarrassing), I proceeded home and occupied myself for a while with card games with the group. Already, the conversation, and knowledge that this was not something I simply had to endure, was paying off. I paid attention to where I sat relative to the phonograph, I took breaks from the loud space, and when I was feeling overwhelmed I took a while to simply shuffle the cards and center myself with the simple, controllable pattern, the card edges against my fingers and the rapid snaps as I let them riffle.

    At one point Amber was leaning a little too close when talking, and I even felt confident asking her to back up. I do not think I would have done that before.

    Tomorrow is Miss Polestar's date, the trip to the football game. She is excited for the match, having followed football loosely while in school, while I have no idea what to expect. A crowd, certainly, but I am less intimidated by that than before. I can handle it.

    I do not know if I can handle being in close proximity to Mr. Fullmore for the duration. We shall have to see.

    ---

    Football! You're so excited!!! But how do you express your excitement during the game?
    ​
    [ ] FACEPAINT! A lot of the machines wear facepaint, and while it might not be the most dignified thing, you should to! Though… perhaps using makeup, rather than actual paint.​
    [ ] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!​
    [ ] A few of your friends back in school taught you some of the chants from the games played where they're from… maybe you can start a few? That'd be great!​

    Some people can't really get into the spirit of the game though. You end up having a fight with your date. What about?

    [ ] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!​
    [ ] He is not appreciative of your vocal enthusiasm, and expresses it in a most unpleasant manner. It revealed some really rather ugly attitudes he has that would make him insufferable to live with.​
    [ ] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!​
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • [x] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [x] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!
     
    [X] FACEPAINT! A lot of the machines wear facepaint, and while it might not be the most dignified thing, you should to! Though… perhaps using makeup, rather than actual paint.

    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!
     
    [X] A few of your friends back in school taught you some of the chants from the games played where they're from… maybe you can start a few? That'd be great!
    [X] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!

    Admittedly him getting upset at her enthusiasm would be the definition of on-brand, but the third option is equally appropriate and slots in some world-building, so I'm going with it instead.
     
    [X] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [X] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!
     
    [X] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!

    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!

    Signaling for the JaneXMarie ship.
     
    [X] FACEPAINT! A lot of the machines wear facepaint, and while it might not be the most dignified thing, you should to! Though… perhaps using makeup, rather than actual paint.

    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!
     
    [X] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [X] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!
     
    [X] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!

    Jane/Marie ship OTP.
     
    [x] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [x] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!
     
    [x] A great big banner! You spent all day making it. You'll only wave it between plays, obviously, you don't want to be rude, but it'll be cool!
    [x] You have a rather serious disagreement during half-time about Old Earth and how it is preserved. You can't imagine somebody so thoughtless!
     
    [X] FACEPAINT! A lot of the machines wear facepaint, and while it might not be the most dignified thing, you should to! Though… perhaps using makeup, rather than actual paint.

    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!
     
    [X] A few of your friends back in school taught you some of the chants from the games played where they're from… maybe you can start a few? That'd be great!

    British football has some fucking classic chants.

    Some horrifically racist ones too, but there's gold amongst the shit.

    [X] You have a rather vocal row about the presence of a machine player on the field. Utterly despicable!
     
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