TEST DRIVE MEME #1

[space_aces]

WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD

Your journey only happened because of your benefactor, so it begets that it starts at your benefactor as well. SUPERBIA, which is as much of a location as it is an entity, is where everyone's search for Fortuna begins.

There's not much of a welcome party: shortly after their fateful encounter with SUPERBIA, in which they swore to join the quest to find Fortuna, the new Privateers will find themselves afflicted by a sudden change in perspective. See, teleportation is a tricky process, so from SUPERBIA's point of view, why not make the target destination none other than itself? One highly disconcerting moment later, and the Privateers find themselves inside the belly of the beast.

The vast mega-structure is shockingly lonely, void of anyone other than the Privateers. Those who look off the metal satellite and to The Network for intelligence (or take a skim at the Space Wikipedia article) will find out that the surrounding space is clear for lightyears; rumors have it that the place is cursed. It won't take long to understand why.

1

Overclocked

The innards of SUPERBIA are that of an impossibly scaled up computer, and the Privateers start right in the middle of it. You are the spider living in the dusty PS4. Literal rivers of coolant, transistors the size of mountains, landscapes made entirely of circuitry. The sky, bounded by a distant metal ceiling, is constantly alight with coursing electricity that cracks the sky with lightning storms. It can be assumed that the Privateers are the first living things to set foot here, because such a place is not ever meant to be traversed by delicate, organic, mortals that worry about things such as "temperature" or "voltage". SUPERBIA needs not lifeforms to continue its operations; why design for them? Traversal itself is difficult: unscalable walls and perilous drops are common to encounter. The only company the Privateers will find are oddly adorable maintenance robots, which sadly seem too occupied by their directives of maintaining the massive machine to offer any assistance (or even acknowledgement of their new guests).

It is immediately clear that the most urgent priority is to get the hell out of here. Before your adventure ends at the starting line.

2

Skeletons In The Closet

If one stays inside SUPERBIA, either by getting horribly lost or losing all common sense, one will notice a peculiar pattern emerge as one gets deeper into the bowels of the mega-structure. Passages shrink and become more level, and the incredible hostility and danger of the surroundings fade away, until one comes across areas which were definitely intended for humanoid organisms to use at one point.

The construction of these areas is cramped, unfurnished, and dreary; they are reminiscent of artificial environments meant to handle harsh external conditions like a submarine or bunker, but they are entirely livable. One can eventually find distinct rooms, but everything in them has crumbled to dust and their original purpose is nigh impossible to discern. Deeper investigation may reveal the few items that have stood the test of time. While it is more plausible for life to have existed here, that doesn't seem to be the case now. What happened here?

3

The Shipyard

In the opposite direction, when one finally reaches the outer edges of SUPERBIA, they will be rewarded with the place to pick up a spaceship and a stunningly beautiful view of outer space. The outside of SUPERBIA has no atmosphere to get between you and the stars, and they shine brightly, like a beacon calling one out into the first steps of adventure.

The shipyard is already filled with countless space ships of every size, form, and function, all autonomously constructed by SUPERBIA's factories over the countless years. What's the harm in taking one or twenty out for a spin? Even if one has no intentions of permanent ownership of the vehicle, it's not like SUPERBIA will miss it. For a Privateer with a more specific vision, however, there are kiosks around the yard which will allow one to design their very own space ship down to their exact specifications. When the process is done SUPERBIA's matter printers will have it out and space-ready right before your very eyes.

If a Privateer has a ship, vehicle, or large item that they intended to bring with them, they will also find them here, neatly parked in the Shipyard. Why didn't SUPERBIA extend this courtesy to the pilot's themselves? The answer is revealed as soon as the owner makes a closer inspection: the inner contents have been rearranged, like a whirlwind was unleashed inside and assorted loose items thrown around. Now aren't you glad your transportation was given special attention, and the same didn't happen to your innards?

4

Hot Crewmates in Your Area

But how will a single Privateer man an entire space ship? No worries: when one steps into a ship, the strangely endearing maintenance robots will suddenly take acute interest. The robots will follow inside and immediately start assuming the duties of a spacefarer, eliminating the need for extra hands on deck.

Even still, there's just no eliminating the want for a human touch, though. Thankfully even that dilemma has a contingency plotted by SUPERBIA.

Communication devices are easily available on every space ship. They come in all shapes and sizes, ranging from huge stationary consoles to portable smartphone-like screens. But whenever a Privateer attempts to access the Network, a pop-up will appear, obscuring the whole screen.

Tell me a little about yourself. Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER? What is your best feature?
The device will be rendered unusable until one relents to the pop-up's demands and provides answers to its questions. What will these be used for? The mystery will be solved when a social media app mysteriously installs itself on the same device, with profiles preemptively made for every Privateer. Each Privateer's profile consists of their given answers, paired with embarrassingly candid photographs. SUPERBIA has eyes in many places it seems.

Comments

Quatre Raberba Winner | Gundam Wing

[fourhope]

I - Overclocked

Quatre's certainly been to nicer places, but while the terrain is perilous at least it's not actively trying to kill them. A passive threat is preferable to an active one. The young man moves with quiet determination taking each obstacle in stride one by one. It's not easy, exactly but he handles it all with a quiet, unflappable confidence.

He'll succeed, no matter what.

The heat of this place is noticeable, oppressive. It bakes along the skin, drying the air to an uncomfortable degree. And yet? He's experienced worse heat, Quatre's not even sweating yet. Which is good, because it's not like he can easily replace any water lost right now. Since, it's not like it's too hot to sweat or anything outrageous, right?

Strangers will be met with politeness and offered aid if they should want or need it. Friends will be met with a warmth that's no less noticeable than their current environment, regardless of the current precarious situation.

"Are you alright?"

II - Skeletons In The Closet

[Quatre's not lost, far from it in fact. He's looking for answers. Where is this place exactly? Why is there no one here? How is there no one here? Picking through bones of a place long abandoned, he's trying to find anything left surviving that makes any sense of this place.

Though the design gest more familiar as his search continues. Things are more human sized. More... usable? How strange.]

This feels vaguely familiar. [Quatre makes a face as he muses to himself.] But I can't tell if it's because it's almost exactly like the last room or because of something else.

[Hearing a sound, no matter how slight, he looks up, blue eyes focused and sharp for a brief moment before smoothing into something much more amiable and open.]

Oh! You startled me! [No, you really didn't.] Are you looking for clues too?

III - The Shipyard A

[Quatre, despite how it might appear, isn't actually a bastion of unflappable calm. In fact he's about ready to vibrate out of his skin, all too eager. Darting through what seems like row after row of ships and mobile suits, he pauses again to take stock of the row. Face falling slightly.]

He's not here either.

[The disappointment in his voice is heavy, how many rows has it been? Maybe Sandrock isn't here after all. No. No. He's got to keep looking! Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath, centering himself. Focus.]

Alright. I'm not giving up just yet.

[But seriously, how many rows of ships and mobile suits does this place need? Just how many people are searching for Fortuna???]

III - The Shipyard B

[Dogged perseverance does, in fact, pay off. Quatre running the last distance to Sandrock's side. It's not even been that long, but seeing his gundam again is reassuring in a place brimming full of unfamiliarity and uncertainty. Laying one hand on the familiar machine Quatre pauses before he leans forward pressing his forehead against the hull for a moment in communion. After all, this giant machine is his most loyal companion. That comes with a certain amount of attachment and respect.]

I'm so glad you're here, old friend.

[And then Quatre's off, clambering up the tall frame with ease. No wonder he hadn't struggled that much with the terrain here. Though he'll have to make sure there's a much faster way to access Sandrock's hatch next time. Now the question is this - Quatre's found Sandrock, but has anyone else found it first?]

IV - Hot Crewmates in Your Area

[Tell me a little about yourself.]
Very well, since you insist.
My name is Quatre Raberba Winner. It's a pleasure.
While it is my understanding this is to be a competition of sorts, I hope that we can do so peacefully and on good terms. I feel there's been enough fighting in the universe already without us adding more to it, wouldn't you agree?

[Are you a LEADER or a FOLLOWER?]
A good leader knows how to be a good follower and understands when it's the right time to lead or not.
Now, I can't say for sure if I'm a good leader. All I can say is that I try my best when the need to lead is present and pray that it's sufficient.

[What is your best feature?]
...I've been told I have nice eyes?
Once, I probably would have said my hands. The hands of a musician, of a creator, but now?
Well, I guess my smile isn't bad either.

IV

[astrogator]

Your name's Winner? I like that. Not a bad leadership philosophy either, and I'm with you on keeping it a peaceful and fair competition.

[fourhope]

It's my family name, yes.
A combination of philosophy mixed with my own lived experience. Someone who always insists upon being the leader, isn't someone I'd trust with the position. Would you agree?
I'm not intending to lose, but I suppose it's a rare occurrence that someone starts a venture knowing it would fail..

[astrogator]

Peace and prosperity to you. I'm Tayrey. Lieutenant Arilanna Tayrey.
I'm not sure if I agree with you in all circumstances. If a person is in a formal leadership role, then that's their responsibility, and they shouldn't abdicate it. Fulfilling their duty doesn't make them untrustworthy. In other circumstances, though? More flexibility is needed.
Probability says that most of us are going to lose, and that maybe all of us are going to lose. But we're all still here, so we all think we have a chance. I'd prefer to win, but I don't mind losing honestly. Just like a game of cards, right? It's all a gamble.

[fourhope]

And to you as well.
A formal leadership role still means knowing when to defer leadership to someone else if a given situation calls for it. Though someone being in a position doesn't always mean they deserve it or are capable of holding it. Just because someone is supposed to lead, that doesn't mean they should.

[A pause.]
It appears I have a lot on my mind on the subject of leadership. My apologies, Miss Tayrey.

Probability is a fickle thing.
Regardless of what the future brings, I wish you good fortune.

[astrogator]

Thank you.
A leader should know his or her own limitations, and when to take the advice of experts in particular fields. They still maintain ultimate responsibility for the outcome, and so they still have to lead. If someone is incapable of leadership, they shouldn't be in the position in the first place.

It's fine, honestly. I like a good debate. But it's Lieutenant Tayrey. Or Citizen Tayrey, if you want to be Rican about it - or just plain Tayrey, I don't mind.

[Rica is a planet in her sector whose inhabitants deliberately reject the use of any and all ranks and titles, save citizen. She's trying to be as sensitive and accommodating as she can, just in case.]

You're very kind. I'll wish for probability to shine upon you, too. [But on her just a little more.]

II

[last_son_of_dathomir]

"I was curious." Maul shrugs, his presence having caught Quatre's attention. He's keeping back to the shadows for the most part, but the red and black along his arms, and his obviously cybernetic legs are at least visible, as is his stare, which is...intense.

"Someone had to have built this...machine." Calling SUPERBIA a "station" felt wrong. Not built like any Maul had ever been too, and too large in scale. "I thought perhaps there might have been traces." He runs a finger along a dusty wall.

"But I do not think we will be successful, my young friend. I think death came to this place long ago, and buried SUPERBIA'S secrets well."

[fourhope]

"Understandable, as was I." Quatre is, ultimately, far too polite to stare at things like intense tattoos or cybernetics. He takes them in, of course, but doesn't make a big deal out of them.

:Everything has to have an origin." He agrees evenly. Even such a large, seemingly powerful thing like SUPERBIA couldn't have just come from nothing. "That was my hope too." He admits, toeing at some debris with his shoe, it's just... more dust mostly. Whatever it had been long broken down by time.

"I think you might be right." The young man agrees with a sad smile. "While it's not always true that the dead keep their secrets. I think this time they will."

[last_son_of_dathomir]

"There is one thing I think we can glean, however." Maul notes. "I do not believe we are the first group to be sent out from here, to seek Fortuna." There were people here, a long time ago. Possibly more than one, and time has simply made it impossible to tell just how many.

He finally steps out of the shadowed corridor fully. "If nothing else, we have a better understanding of the dangers that await us. I am Maul."

[fourhope]

"I hadn't considered the possibility, but it does seem like the most probable conclusion." Quatre agrees easily. "If you want something found, only trying once wouldn't be practical."

He glances around them, worrying his lower lip between his teeth absently as he considers things. "But we also can't assume this place exists solely because of Fortuna."

"On this we're agreed." Quatre's turns to look at the stranger then, taking in his features carefully but politely. One does not simply gawk, that would be crass. "A pleasure, Maul. My name is Quatre Raberba Winner."

[last_son_of_dathomir]

"Especially when you have access to so large a pool of willing volunteers." Maul adds. An infinite pool, in fact. Truly endless resources the Empire could only have ever dreamed of. "SUPERBIA loses nothing by simply brute forcing this search."

He looks around, considering Quatre's supposition. "True, but this...this is no ordinary space station." True, there are parts of it that are familiar, but they are only a small part of a bafflingly larger hole. "More like an immensely huge computer." Which makes Maul wonder why someone would need one so vast. What is it computing?

He nods slightly. "Quatre, then. Come, before we forget the way back." A distinct possibility in this labyrinth. He moves to leave. "Have you a ship yet?"

2

[heeroics]

[ Heero is aware that he hasn't caught Quatre unaware. He also knows that Quatre already knows Heero has been on the hunt for usable information from the very moment he'd arrived; he didn't need to ask. ]

Anything salvageable?

[ Well, then. Right to business. Sorry Quatre, touching reunion scenes aren't really Yuy's forte. ]

[fourhope]

[If Heero had even tried for a touching reunion scene, Quatre would be giving even the most harebrained theories Duo had for his supposed 'weirdness' for actual legitimacy.
No offense.]

Unfortunately, no. [Quatre leans back from where he'd been trying to per into an old chute.] Anything that might have been salvageable here looks like it degraded potentially centuries ago.

[Because things don't just break down this far in a few decades. It's... strange.]

It's good to see you, Heero.

[Business first and then pleasantries, because Quatre is still Quatre. But he'll forgo trying for a hug from this one.... for now.]

[heeroics]

[ Even now, it makes him pause.

Not because it's surprising for Quatre to be polite. He almost always is. It's because Heero has heard Quatre Raberba Winner when he's delivering his canned pleasantries, and in those moments there is none of the warmth that he detects on his... friend's voice now, and years later Heero is still getting used to existing in a universe where anyone is so genuinely happy to see him again that even he can see the hug in their eyes.

And this isn't even their usual universe. ]

Mm.

[ A single syllable of agreement, quietly understated, while his eyes dart towards the nearest item of interest on the adjacent wall.

It's all Heero can give without getting sidetracked by the expectations of a pleasant exchange with a friend, but Quatre understands that, too preternaturally perceptive to ever mistake these particular evasions of his for a snub. Whatever wavelength Quatre is uniquely attuned to, though it may defy logic, Heero appreciates that in his own way.

He returns the favor of being silently understood with his unconditional trust in whatever Winner has to say. ]

Centuries at least.

[ Whole pieces of what might have been a console installed into the wall flakes off alongside the caked-on dust with a brush of his hand. Even plastic and metal crumbles. Heero's exhale is frustrated, because that's the second one he's tried. ]

[fourhope]

[And that's enough, that Heero knows the hug is there even when it's not a physical one. Though, there's going to come a time Zero-One gets a physical hug whether he likes it or not.... just not now..

Luckily, Quatre is fairly fluent in mono-syllable conversation. Be it Heero or certain other more taciturn members of his friend group.]

No weather, no contact with animals or other things.... should have lead to careful preservation. The fact that things are in such a state...

[Quatre watches silently as the wall crumbles under Heero's touch. Which, Heero is ridiculously strong, but he's pretty sure that he'd not been trying for this to happen. It's just that everything is this brittle.]

Perhaps centuries is an understatement.

[Quatre's voice is dry, not quite bemused but certainly close to it. Though he does give it a try, finding a nearby panel that does indeed fracture at even the lightest of touches]

[heeroics]

[ It certainly helps that Heero and Trowa tend to be on a similar wavelength. Heero has never had to say much around Trowa, and he doesn't have to around Quatre, either. When Quatre immediately rises to try another panel, Heero knows for certain that the Sandrock pilot's sharp mind is just as engaged on the task ahead of them as he had expected.

And hoped.

Heero still isn't used to calling on others for help, if he's honest. He isn't trying to assemble a team. Yet... ]

What do you think?

[ These stakes may be too dire - and the circumstances too unusual - for Heero to pretend like he can search for Fortuna himself. ]

III | B

[wresting]

In so much as McGillis had admired Sandrock for a moment — several, in fact — someone did find the gundam before Quatre.

...although that had been well over an hour ago. Overseeing the work of several maintenance robots, McGillis is quite busy when Quatre arrives, nigh oblivious until the distinct sound of a cockpit opening registers in his peripherals. McGillis turns, watching from a lift operated cage; the height, relative to Sandrock's and Grimgerde's cockpit. McGillis cross his arms, smiling in a manner between pleased and knowing.

"I've never seen your mobile suit," he calls across the distance. "It's a gundam, isn't it." To his left, Grimgerde stands side by side with Kimaris Vidar. It isn't too surprising a conclusion.

[fourhope]

Ah yes, over by the rhino-horn gundam. Duo's told him stories about that one. Though the horn is disappointingly small in comparison to how it had been in Duo's story. Even with adjusting for Duo exaggerating he'd still been quite a bit off course.

The call out has him turning with a small smile, because of course the stranger has never seen anything like his Sandrock. Why would he have? But the use of the word gundam makes Quatre freeze for just a fraction of a second, caught off guard. Sure, operation meteor is over, but... no. Operation Meteor is done.

"In the sense that Sandrock is made from Gundanium Alloy? Yes." He agrees amiably, not stopping in his inspection of Sandrock's cockpit. Manners are one thing, but so efficiency is another. Settling in to tidy and run diagnostics, he raises his voice slightly to be heard over any muffling the cockpit might provide. "I take it that suit is yours?"

uses a coin to lottery ticket scratch the dates off this thread.........

[wresting]

Gundanium alloy...?

McGillis puzzles the name; his smile, absent for a moment. In the next, he turns, eyes on Grimgerde; an "ah" confirms Quatre's assessment. McGillis unfolds either arm, one hand falling to rest on his hip. "It was developed during the Calamity War, a valkyrja frame... Its name is Grimgerde."

One of Wagner's valkyries, appearing only in the third act of die Walküre.

Time is made up and so can be ignored at our discretion u_u

[fourhope]

Quatre's eyes light up a little at that, a small smile coming to his lips.

"Grimgerde? Are you a fan of the classics, then?" Because of course, Quatre would be given his status as a rich little music nerd. Not that he doesn't enjoy talking about his gundam, because Sandrock is ever a loyal partner, but music? That's one of the loves of his life right there.

He's not ignoring the bit about the Calamity War, but an unfamiliar war he's never heard of isn't quite as important as asking if this strange man is a fan of Wagner. One can talk about War with many people, but finding people who appreciate this sort of music? Now that's rare.

[wresting]

Depending on one's audience, even Brünnhilde is an obscure reference.

Surprised, McGillis turns from the valkyrja frame, silent for a spell or two. He huffs a small laugh through his nose, then, directing the cage closer to Sandrock's cockpit. The distance is respectable; McGillis, not at all interested in the cockpit so much as the boy inside, no older than another gundam pilot by the sound of his voice.

"I take it you are," he says, his own smile returned, almost warm. The white of McGillis's jacket and slacks — worn over a pilot's normal suit — is too clean, too starched to be anything other than the remnants of a uniform.

4

[sleepfan]

I also hope this does not devolve into violence, but given the power at stake, I am not optimistic. I was hoping that being able to live and travel among the stars might allow for peace, but it does not seem that is the case. Apparently greater prosperity does not stop us from fighting.

The fact that you admit that you do not know whether you are a good leader makes you better than most of the ones I've met.

What is wrong with your hands? They look like hands.

[fourhope]

Your assessment seems to be the same as mine I'm afraid.
It's historically rare that the search for power ends without conflict, at least where I'm from.

[Ah, interesting. Someone from a pre-spaceflight universe then.]

Having grown up in space, I'm afraid to say that it does not make things better in that regards.

I am humbled you would think so. Thank you.

Physically there is nothing wrong with them, they're just hands. You are correct.
Physically they just look like hands, but spiritually or emotionally is another matter I'm afraid.

[sleepfan]

It is the same where I am from. The only thing that stops violence seems to be the threat of more violence.

[Or at least that's how Linhardt is justifying his decisions so he can sleep at night instead of lying awake too aware of his own hypocrisy.]

Perhaps the best use of Fortuna would be changing human nature so that we're less violent. Or at least learning how to bring about peace. I do wonder if using Fortuna only for my own world's problem is selfish.

[Fodlan is a shithole. Maybe it would be better to just...move everybody he cares about? Linhardt is having trouble deciding what the 'right' thing to do is: He's operating quite out of his depth.]

I understand. Some things can't be undone once you've done them, and you can never be the same person.

I hope you still make music.

[fourhope]

I was hoping that perhaps it was not a universal constant. Unfortunately, it seems that hope will have been in vain.

[A sentiment Quatre can fully understand.]

Good or bad, humanity is the way they are because they choose to be that way. As to selfishness, before now if you're like me, you'd not even known these other worlds even existed. Being focused on the troubles of your own world, where you've seen it and know it exists is understandable.

[Not that Quatre has room to talk, he's essentially decided Fortuna is too dangerous to exist and so therefore needs to be destroyed. Which is, arguably, also a selfish mindset in it's own wayy.]

Exactly so. We might come from different worlds and have different experiences, but perhaps the experiences aren't truly as different as one would think.

Of course! Stained hands can still create beauty. I wouldn't deny myself that.