Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
Hmmm. Damage control it is, then.
The Courier
- Thread starter Powerofmind
- Start date
- Original
-
- Tags
- original
Welcome to Dystopia
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
No, you shouldn't run. You'll just get caught and then they'll know you already know at least that much. No, instead you'll play dumb. Who knows, you might get off without any kind of punishment at all. You settle in and pretend to put all your focus on whatever page you're currently on, as the two officers start picking through the crowd before they notice you.
"Excuse me, miss Taggart, you need to be in your home right now." You turn, and ply your best clueless face. "Sorry, what? Have I done something wrong, officer?" He and his partner look at you with incredulous faces behind their sunglasses, not sunglasses, you notice, looks like google-glass's sleeker edgier brother. Little lights are reflected onto their faces, presumably from some kind of emitter near the lenses. If you weren't worried about the impression you leave on them, you'd probably drool and ask to see it.
Roll: 60.
The one on the left, with a cheesy-looking mustache to top off the cop look, raises an eyebrow behind his fancy HUD glasses, but his partner seems none the wiser. It's the smart one that speaks up first. "Miss Taggart, I understand you're new here? We'll let you off with a warning this time, since we've got footage of you in a broadcast area, but the rules aren't quite the same as you're used to on the outside. Here..." He reaches out with a little gun-looking thing, the implant device, you assume. "I understand the idea isn't appealing, but part of it is for your own safety and well-being, and the other part is a little more important. Providence uses the information they get from the citizen's everyday lives to make major breakthroughs in social engineering and healthcare, and the city employs hundreds of specialists in hundreds of fields in order to sell advanced technology to the world at large, in order to help stabilize the situation outside. We're not just trying to keep society going through the chaos, we're trying to pick up the pieces and fix the problem."
Well, you'd never heard of that before. But doesn't Providence pick up massive subsidies and tax breaks just for existing? It's in their best interests to keep the cash cow open as long as possible, and none of this stuff has made it outside, you'd definitely know. So what's the real deal, here? This guy expects you to let him chip you, but what's this thing really for? And... wait, they were tracking you since you got in the door, just because your picture had a 'B' next to it on your ID?
[ ] Refuse anyway
They won't actually lock you up, right? They can't force you to take this chip. All they'll do is kick you out. Just keep reminding yourself, you're still in the States.
[ ] Make a break for it
This is like so many movies and sci-fi shows. Big Brother just wants what's best for you, wants to keep you 'safe'. Screw that. Maybe you could get kicked out if you do enough damage. This place rations food, so they probably can't afford extended jail time like they would outside. Wouldn't pad the bottom line enough.
[ ] Comply
You don't want this. But it's better than the crapsack world you left to get here. Every lawn with a generator, guzzling eighteen dollar gallons of gas to power lights and basic amenities for a few hours a day, food as basic as a loaf of bread costing upwards of ten dollars... If this is what it takes to make it through the panics and currency bubbles, you'll just have to go along.
[ ] Write-in?
"Excuse me, miss Taggart, you need to be in your home right now." You turn, and ply your best clueless face. "Sorry, what? Have I done something wrong, officer?" He and his partner look at you with incredulous faces behind their sunglasses, not sunglasses, you notice, looks like google-glass's sleeker edgier brother. Little lights are reflected onto their faces, presumably from some kind of emitter near the lenses. If you weren't worried about the impression you leave on them, you'd probably drool and ask to see it.
Roll: 60.
The one on the left, with a cheesy-looking mustache to top off the cop look, raises an eyebrow behind his fancy HUD glasses, but his partner seems none the wiser. It's the smart one that speaks up first. "Miss Taggart, I understand you're new here? We'll let you off with a warning this time, since we've got footage of you in a broadcast area, but the rules aren't quite the same as you're used to on the outside. Here..." He reaches out with a little gun-looking thing, the implant device, you assume. "I understand the idea isn't appealing, but part of it is for your own safety and well-being, and the other part is a little more important. Providence uses the information they get from the citizen's everyday lives to make major breakthroughs in social engineering and healthcare, and the city employs hundreds of specialists in hundreds of fields in order to sell advanced technology to the world at large, in order to help stabilize the situation outside. We're not just trying to keep society going through the chaos, we're trying to pick up the pieces and fix the problem."
Well, you'd never heard of that before. But doesn't Providence pick up massive subsidies and tax breaks just for existing? It's in their best interests to keep the cash cow open as long as possible, and none of this stuff has made it outside, you'd definitely know. So what's the real deal, here? This guy expects you to let him chip you, but what's this thing really for? And... wait, they were tracking you since you got in the door, just because your picture had a 'B' next to it on your ID?
[ ] Refuse anyway
They won't actually lock you up, right? They can't force you to take this chip. All they'll do is kick you out. Just keep reminding yourself, you're still in the States.
[ ] Make a break for it
This is like so many movies and sci-fi shows. Big Brother just wants what's best for you, wants to keep you 'safe'. Screw that. Maybe you could get kicked out if you do enough damage. This place rations food, so they probably can't afford extended jail time like they would outside. Wouldn't pad the bottom line enough.
[ ] Comply
You don't want this. But it's better than the crapsack world you left to get here. Every lawn with a generator, guzzling eighteen dollar gallons of gas to power lights and basic amenities for a few hours a day, food as basic as a loaf of bread costing upwards of ten dollars... If this is what it takes to make it through the panics and currency bubbles, you'll just have to go along.
[ ] Write-in?
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
This is a bump.
Need tiebreaking votes.
Need tiebreaking votes.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[jk] Make a break for it
[X] Refuse anyway
[X] Refuse anyway
[X] Refuse anyway
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
Refusing Anyway, incoming~
Death is only the beginning
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
"Look, plenty of people in here probably don't want this thing. There's got to be some kind of opt out or something. Where do I have to file it?" You try to be nice about it, good tone and everything, but these rent-a-cops just don't seem to want to cooperate. Mustache sighs, and taps a button on his shirt, where a small mic is planted. "Central, this is Jones. Looks like B-738 is going to need an orientation." Newbie, next to him, enthusiastically makes to grab you.
Roll: 24.
You attempt to back away, but he quickly gets a hand on you. You struggle as he actually restrains you, arms pinned behind you, and that's when you abandon any pretense of being accommodating. "Hey, what's the big idea? So I don't want some freaking customer service implant, that doesn't mean you have the right-" Mustache, or Jones, you suppose, groans and begins raising his voice over yours. People are starting to look.
"Miss Taggart, we have every right to arrest you for not complying with city regulations. This is supposed to be a safe place, and to keep it that way, everyone has to obey the laws set in place. Once you've had some time with our orientation staff, you should understand that a little personal discomfort is just the cost of a high standard of living in these times." Then he pulls out the cuffs. The cuffs with a little red light and a lightning bolt warning on them.
You pale. "Hey, hey wait! I get it, I get it. I don't want this, so I'll leave, right? You can fill my spot with someone else!" Newbie smirks, and you get the impression he loves being a tyrant. "Leave? Doesn't anybody read Terms of Service agreements anymore?"
Panic: 67.
And that seems to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. You turn to the left, to the right, frantically searching for outrage or indigence, and while plenty of faces show that they're as upset as you, nobody acts, nobody goes against these enforcers. No way will you live here. Hell, you'd have better luck in a kool-aid commune!
Roll: 59.
Using all of the knowledge of fighting you've ever picked up from movies and crime dramas, you hop up a bit to ram the back of your head into Newbie's nose, and through the surprisingly painful maneuver, you hear him yell out and release your hands. Then you book it through the building to the other side of the park, your worry only growing as you realize the doors are fully automated, and they probably cut access to your ID along the way. You turn, heading for the employee's area and hopefully a server farm, so you can cause a huge amount of damage to get yourself expelled with.
Fortunately, the inside of the park doesn't seem to be as secure as the rest, and you barrel into some serving kid carrying a tray of coffee. He has an employee keycard hanging on a lanyard, and you grab it as you dash past him through the still-open door into the back. The cops are right behind you, with their tasers out, so you don't particularly have time to actually find something you can do a huge amount of damage to, opening up the first door that seems promising.
How did you die? 9.
You swipe the keycard, stumbling into the room just as one of the tasers dig into your back and shock you to the ground with a thousand volts of muscle seizure. Just one problem. You'd opened the door to an access well. You had a moment to contemplate what kind of idiot put a ladder here, before your head bounced off one of the rungs and you lost consciousness.
When you come to, you feel... surprisingly yourself, considering you're pretty sure you gave yourself a concussion and who knows what else from falling down a hole who knows how many feet deep. You get up, and stumble, overcome by the strangest sensation of the world not looking quite right. The strangeness holds your attention for a moment, before you hear the sound of someone rapidly descending the access shaft above you. You look up, seeing one of the officers coming down about twenty feet of ladder, and the other, Jones, speaking frantically into his little mic.
The tunnel actually carries sound quite well. "Central, we might have a body on our hands. Send a wagon to Tech Park 7, copy?"
We hear you, Jones. The speaker crackles. Oh, and Abby, darling~ You should run. Wait, what?
[ ] Write-in?
Roll: 24.
You attempt to back away, but he quickly gets a hand on you. You struggle as he actually restrains you, arms pinned behind you, and that's when you abandon any pretense of being accommodating. "Hey, what's the big idea? So I don't want some freaking customer service implant, that doesn't mean you have the right-" Mustache, or Jones, you suppose, groans and begins raising his voice over yours. People are starting to look.
"Miss Taggart, we have every right to arrest you for not complying with city regulations. This is supposed to be a safe place, and to keep it that way, everyone has to obey the laws set in place. Once you've had some time with our orientation staff, you should understand that a little personal discomfort is just the cost of a high standard of living in these times." Then he pulls out the cuffs. The cuffs with a little red light and a lightning bolt warning on them.
You pale. "Hey, hey wait! I get it, I get it. I don't want this, so I'll leave, right? You can fill my spot with someone else!" Newbie smirks, and you get the impression he loves being a tyrant. "Leave? Doesn't anybody read Terms of Service agreements anymore?"
Panic: 67.
And that seems to be the straw that breaks the camel's back. You turn to the left, to the right, frantically searching for outrage or indigence, and while plenty of faces show that they're as upset as you, nobody acts, nobody goes against these enforcers. No way will you live here. Hell, you'd have better luck in a kool-aid commune!
Roll: 59.
Using all of the knowledge of fighting you've ever picked up from movies and crime dramas, you hop up a bit to ram the back of your head into Newbie's nose, and through the surprisingly painful maneuver, you hear him yell out and release your hands. Then you book it through the building to the other side of the park, your worry only growing as you realize the doors are fully automated, and they probably cut access to your ID along the way. You turn, heading for the employee's area and hopefully a server farm, so you can cause a huge amount of damage to get yourself expelled with.
Fortunately, the inside of the park doesn't seem to be as secure as the rest, and you barrel into some serving kid carrying a tray of coffee. He has an employee keycard hanging on a lanyard, and you grab it as you dash past him through the still-open door into the back. The cops are right behind you, with their tasers out, so you don't particularly have time to actually find something you can do a huge amount of damage to, opening up the first door that seems promising.
How did you die? 9.
You swipe the keycard, stumbling into the room just as one of the tasers dig into your back and shock you to the ground with a thousand volts of muscle seizure. Just one problem. You'd opened the door to an access well. You had a moment to contemplate what kind of idiot put a ladder here, before your head bounced off one of the rungs and you lost consciousness.
When you come to, you feel... surprisingly yourself, considering you're pretty sure you gave yourself a concussion and who knows what else from falling down a hole who knows how many feet deep. You get up, and stumble, overcome by the strangest sensation of the world not looking quite right. The strangeness holds your attention for a moment, before you hear the sound of someone rapidly descending the access shaft above you. You look up, seeing one of the officers coming down about twenty feet of ladder, and the other, Jones, speaking frantically into his little mic.
The tunnel actually carries sound quite well. "Central, we might have a body on our hands. Send a wagon to Tech Park 7, copy?"
We hear you, Jones. The speaker crackles. Oh, and Abby, darling~ You should run. Wait, what?
[ ] Write-in?
- Location
- The Geth Collective
[X] Tunnel Rat
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Tunnel Rat
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
Tunnel Rat! Go, go, go!
Insanity is Just a Word
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
Far be it from you to ignore weird hallucinations to run from the batshit crazy cops that tazed you down a ladder shaft. You immediately book it left down the tunnel, coming out into the server farm you'd figured was nearby. There's a few technicians checking things over, and... wait. Madison Hort, twenty-eight. Dies to cardiac arrest in two hours and forty seven minutes. Oh what the hell! You must really have whacked your head bad on the way down. "Hey! Stop!" You quickly pick the pace back up, remembering that Newbie is still behind you. You sprint into the room, feeling less tired than you thought you would, quickly searching for another exit, which you find in the form of a fire hatch leading... down? Fire doesn't spread down without help, I guess. Still weird.
You yank the hatch open, and the blaring fire alarm sounds almost immediately. At least this is manual. Probably can't risk losing power to it. You scramble down yet another ladder, into yet another tunnel network, and this time you have to duck your head in the cramped space. You book it down whichever branch you're looking at first, and it splits one or two more times, where you ignore the ladders for those in favor of sticking to the underground, where, apparently, they couldn't afford to plant dozens of cameras, probably because the tunnel wouldn't be large enough for a five year old with all the wires they'd need. Concrete and steel are so good at blocking wireless signals when there's twenty-odd feet of it in the way.
You come out in a residential slum, a second-basement level craphole where the hatch seems to have been propped open in advance. As you pop out, you come face to face with a scruffy-looking man who blinks back surprise before ignoring you once again to watch some show on his tablet. It looks like a comedy special, but you don't recognize the stand-up artist at all. And then, this girl, let's call her Abby, turns around and opens door number eight-forty-two. Bear with me here... There it is again, that crazy stupid hallucination. On instinct, you turn anyway, and sure enough, the residence behind you is labeled C-842. Oooookay, that's weird. That's a little creepy.
[ ] Open it...
Maybe... it's insane, it's probably a little bit stupid, and these doors are supposed to be locked, so it's probably pointless, too. But you can't shake the thought. I'll just... try it.
[ ] Write-in?
You yank the hatch open, and the blaring fire alarm sounds almost immediately. At least this is manual. Probably can't risk losing power to it. You scramble down yet another ladder, into yet another tunnel network, and this time you have to duck your head in the cramped space. You book it down whichever branch you're looking at first, and it splits one or two more times, where you ignore the ladders for those in favor of sticking to the underground, where, apparently, they couldn't afford to plant dozens of cameras, probably because the tunnel wouldn't be large enough for a five year old with all the wires they'd need. Concrete and steel are so good at blocking wireless signals when there's twenty-odd feet of it in the way.
You come out in a residential slum, a second-basement level craphole where the hatch seems to have been propped open in advance. As you pop out, you come face to face with a scruffy-looking man who blinks back surprise before ignoring you once again to watch some show on his tablet. It looks like a comedy special, but you don't recognize the stand-up artist at all. And then, this girl, let's call her Abby, turns around and opens door number eight-forty-two. Bear with me here... There it is again, that crazy stupid hallucination. On instinct, you turn anyway, and sure enough, the residence behind you is labeled C-842. Oooookay, that's weird. That's a little creepy.
[ ] Open it...
Maybe... it's insane, it's probably a little bit stupid, and these doors are supposed to be locked, so it's probably pointless, too. But you can't shake the thought. I'll just... try it.
[ ] Write-in?
[X] Open it...
- Location
- Hell
[JK] sit next to the guy and watch the comedian. Who know, you might learn something.
[X] Scout the area
Check around for cameras, Look for more agents, find out where in the city you popped up. We might need to use this route again
Do not listen to the voices in your head, they will make you dance the chacha slide
Also it seems rather vague, did we pop up out of someone's house?
[X] Scout the area
Check around for cameras, Look for more agents, find out where in the city you popped up. We might need to use this route again
Do not listen to the voices in your head, they will make you dance the chacha slide
Also it seems rather vague, did we pop up out of someone's house?
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
In the middle of a hallway, with the fire hatch just sort of left open, downed elevator, don't like stairs, somebody works on the other end of it, who knows. It's just convenient that you don't trip another fire alarm getting out.
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
I'll hold it open for a little longer, just for the sake of trying to squeeze more votes out of you guys. I want to feel special!
LucidProp
Pocky Eating MafiaDoka
Death, Now Hiring Couriers
Powerofmind
In Madness Fallen
- Location
- United States
This is not an apartment. You step into the room, and immediately you feel that you'll probably regret it. The only place that the space on the other side of a door should be 'bigger on the inside' is a particular police box from science fiction, not an apartment complex in dystopian Illinois. But that's what you're seeing. The door you cam from has become an emergency exit for what appears to be a shipping center, boxes of all kinds piled up around you. If the lights are any indication, it seems to be closed for the night, which is strange, because you could swear it was only noon when you'd started your mad dash around the city.
"Ah, you've made it, great!" You startle at the voice that comes from behind you, whirling to see a woman in a red workman's uniform with a cap on. She practically skips over to you, and you figure she's not going to kill you, so you let it go. "Hi, Miss Taggart! You must be the new girl, so please, follow me. Let's get you settled in on what you need to do!" She turns, and you follow, significantly freaked out, but the exit vanished when you checked for it, so you're trapped, for now, in this crazy little world that should only exist in fiction.
The woman leads you to a small office sticking out of the wall, where she seats you in a conference room, with an old timey TV that has a VHS player built into it. She turns it on to signal snow and just leaves you there. You barely even have the patience to wait for her to return before it starts up, images and sounds playing even though you realize in a detached sort of way that the snow is still on the screen.
A man, dressed in a button-up shirt with a headset, is set against a plain white background. Is this an infomercial? Hello! I'm Matt Uerte, and you're dead! Why is that, you ask? Because you suffered severe blunt force trauma and internal bleeding in your brain when you fell earlier today! That would certainly explain the hallucinations. But wait, there's more! I have here signed documents specifying a time of death for you, Miss Taggart! Do you want to know what they say? Well, it's definitely not death by fall, that's for sure! For the low low price of an internship with our business, these documents, the original documents, of your time of death, can be refiled and an extension granted! Here's how! You get up and make to shut off the TV, freaked out to the nth degree, and the figure on the screen pouts. Hey now, Miss Taggart, don't touch that dial, I'm just a friendly abstract concept trying to make you a fantastic deal! You freeze, more in fear than in anything else, as you notice that this TV is only plugged into a power socket, and it's definitely too old to have any kind of wireless features. What the hell is talking to you from the other side of the screen?
The figure grins broadly, and continues. Alright! You can have your time of death refiled and be granted your very own life extension in a few easy steps! First, you'll have to sign the forms my secretary gives you, a Non-Disclosure Agreement for what you've seen here and what your new job is. Then, you'll go out, and catch those sneaky souls that managed to cheat and go beyond their intended time. Be careful! These people will probably fight tooth and nail to stay alive, but they pay the way to correct the misfiled accidental death you've suffered! The figure's smile becomes decidedly more sinister. Happy Hunting, Abby~.
You blink as the scene blends smoothly back into static, the woman in red popping into the door exactly at that moment, clipboard in hand. "Sign here, please!" You snort, instead taking the clipboard entirely to look over the 'NDA' you're signing. Clearly you're hallucinating, probably freaking out whoever lives here something awful, and there's no way your concussed brain can come up with a coherent form in this state. Of course, the first thing you read is 'This is not a dream or hallucination, Abigail,' which loses some of it's impact when you're absolutely certain you're the one screwing with you. Going through it, you realize with more and more discomfort that the form actually makes sense, except for the part that threatens you with 'spontaneous ejection of self from body' should you not abide by the NDA.
[ ] Sign it
This is a freaky as hell coma dream or something, but not signing it equates to death in my mind, so shouldn't I sign it?
[ ] We Expect you to Sign it
I don't want to sign it. You can't make me.
[ ] Write-in?
No more dawdling, Abby. You will sign this, now.
"Ah, you've made it, great!" You startle at the voice that comes from behind you, whirling to see a woman in a red workman's uniform with a cap on. She practically skips over to you, and you figure she's not going to kill you, so you let it go. "Hi, Miss Taggart! You must be the new girl, so please, follow me. Let's get you settled in on what you need to do!" She turns, and you follow, significantly freaked out, but the exit vanished when you checked for it, so you're trapped, for now, in this crazy little world that should only exist in fiction.
The woman leads you to a small office sticking out of the wall, where she seats you in a conference room, with an old timey TV that has a VHS player built into it. She turns it on to signal snow and just leaves you there. You barely even have the patience to wait for her to return before it starts up, images and sounds playing even though you realize in a detached sort of way that the snow is still on the screen.
A man, dressed in a button-up shirt with a headset, is set against a plain white background. Is this an infomercial? Hello! I'm Matt Uerte, and you're dead! Why is that, you ask? Because you suffered severe blunt force trauma and internal bleeding in your brain when you fell earlier today! That would certainly explain the hallucinations. But wait, there's more! I have here signed documents specifying a time of death for you, Miss Taggart! Do you want to know what they say? Well, it's definitely not death by fall, that's for sure! For the low low price of an internship with our business, these documents, the original documents, of your time of death, can be refiled and an extension granted! Here's how! You get up and make to shut off the TV, freaked out to the nth degree, and the figure on the screen pouts. Hey now, Miss Taggart, don't touch that dial, I'm just a friendly abstract concept trying to make you a fantastic deal! You freeze, more in fear than in anything else, as you notice that this TV is only plugged into a power socket, and it's definitely too old to have any kind of wireless features. What the hell is talking to you from the other side of the screen?
The figure grins broadly, and continues. Alright! You can have your time of death refiled and be granted your very own life extension in a few easy steps! First, you'll have to sign the forms my secretary gives you, a Non-Disclosure Agreement for what you've seen here and what your new job is. Then, you'll go out, and catch those sneaky souls that managed to cheat and go beyond their intended time. Be careful! These people will probably fight tooth and nail to stay alive, but they pay the way to correct the misfiled accidental death you've suffered! The figure's smile becomes decidedly more sinister. Happy Hunting, Abby~.
You blink as the scene blends smoothly back into static, the woman in red popping into the door exactly at that moment, clipboard in hand. "Sign here, please!" You snort, instead taking the clipboard entirely to look over the 'NDA' you're signing. Clearly you're hallucinating, probably freaking out whoever lives here something awful, and there's no way your concussed brain can come up with a coherent form in this state. Of course, the first thing you read is 'This is not a dream or hallucination, Abigail,' which loses some of it's impact when you're absolutely certain you're the one screwing with you. Going through it, you realize with more and more discomfort that the form actually makes sense, except for the part that threatens you with 'spontaneous ejection of self from body' should you not abide by the NDA.
[ ] Sign it
This is a freaky as hell coma dream or something, but not signing it equates to death in my mind, so shouldn't I sign it?
[ ] We Expect you to Sign it
I don't want to sign it. You can't make me.
[ ] Write-in?
No more dawdling, Abby. You will sign this, now.