thenightroom | MISSION ONE: THE TIME MACHINE

Entry tags:

!ic,
!mission log

MISSION ONE: THE TIME MACHINE

MISSION LOGS

MISSION ONE: THE TIME MACHINE

▐ OBJECTIVES ▐

The machine has malfunctioned, resulting in the random splintering of individuals across time and across the vast expanse of possible realities. Each person pulled has subsequently been recruited temporarily until a solution to return them home has been reached.

The first mission is simple: return to the last splinter point the machine reached and retrace the steps of the team to locate any temporal anomalies and record them. Record anything strange or out of the ordinary for missions. The year is 1993, and you are going native.

In the 'present', the team should begin a physical document mapping out where the new recruits come from and try to determine if splintering back is possible with their current technology.

▐ OUTCOMES ▐

Characters will have experience using the time machine and players will have chance to explore the past or explore the facility in the 'present'.

A brief comprehensive idea of where everyone comes from should be starting to form, with Dr. Jones conducting individual interviews. You can be as vague about your characters personal circumstances as you like, as Dr. Jones will be more interested in the world itself, the year and will make quick character judgement's based on the conversation itself. At the end of the mission, characters should be starting to form connections, however small or significant.

SETTINGS

▐ 1993 ▐

Before you leave, you will be interviewed by Dr. Jones. This can be hand waved for inconvenience. She will ask you only the most pertinent questions: your name, your age, the year you are from. She will ask for as in depth description of your world that you can provide. If you want to elaborate on your personal circumstances, you can. If not, that's fine too.

Before you leave, normal protocol takes place. The machine will be explained to you, as will the injections required before hand. The machine itself is dangerous, but the danger of being catapulted across reality again is 0.000001%. Reassuring in every way, of course. You will travel to 1993, Seattle. The only relevant information about this previous mission is the places the team were and anything odd they can recall. You will, however, be free to explore the State and note anything odd.

There will be vague temporal anomalies, but nothing big enough to cross the multiverse.

▐ PROJECT SPLINTER INTEL GATHERING ▐

Interviews conducted by Dr. Jones are mandatory. Until you complete it, you will be held in the brigg quarters which, compared to the rest of the facility, is hugely uncomfortable. It is the same process as above. In turn, Dr. Jones will brief you on the current state of this world. She will only share relevant and confirmed information.

After you're done, you are free to also share these experiences with the new 'volunteers. '

▐ EXPLORING YOUR SURROUNDINGS ▐

The obligatory wild card. Explore the facility. The rooms, the kitchens, the shower rooms. Head up to the roof and look upon the vast wasteland that has become of the world. Do whatever you want!

table code by

optimisty

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[ News spreads fast around here. Take the sharing habits of a small village and amplify it by a situation where they'er all strangers in the same, inconvenient situation, and this is what you get: people know your name, what happened once you arrived, and maybe even what was happening before the machine flashed and you materialized on that chair.

(How many people have sat there? More importantly, how often to they clean it?)

Merlin manages to stay in his corner - so to speak - watching and listening without offering much himself. He has to be more aware of what his body is doing than what everyone else is doing; there are certain signs that begin to surface when the 'trees' accumulate and start to press through his chest, waiting to burst. The last thing he wants to do is a) let anyone see it, b) destroy their only chance of getting back home and saving the world in the process.

Quietly, he follows the smell to the man he'd seen before. Weirdly spiritless when he woke up, which Merlin isn't sure counts as better or worse than having a panic attack caused by the possibility of having a panic attack. It makes him feel sorry for the guy, self-aware of how invasive that concern is.

But God - how long has it been since he even smelled real food? Creative or efficient doesn't make much of a difference; Merlin's been eating junk food and whatever else he can heat up in a microwave for so long that his relief feels like it has literal weight. How cruel would it be if he was denied a taste? (Very.) Once he's in Iain's periphery, glancing down at the smack-sounds of fried sausages on the pan with a poor attempt to be subtle about it, he initiates the conversation. Because what else is he going to do, grab a plate uninvited? ]

I didn't know anyone here could actually - cook.

[ Meanwhile, here's Iain silently hoping that Merlin will do exactly that, grab a plate without explicit invitation. Because he's always very reluctant to be the one to open conversations. It makes him feel as stiff and unnatural on the outside as he is on the inside, though he's been told many times it doesn't come through. That he's doing fine.

Fortunately, one of them musters up the spirit for some good old social conventions, and he allows himself to glance at Merlin very casually. There's something about the man which is anxiously non-threatening, an outward exaggeration of feelings that Iain himself can relate to. ]

Not so's I've noticed.

[ And here's the dryer, blander, neatly compacted version of Merlin's opening gambit. Conversational saltines to settle their stomachs. ]

Feel free, if it looks edible enough.

[ Merlin offers a lift of his brows at Iain, who still looks like he's shut down and going through the motions until someone or something prompts him to open up; assuming, of course, that there's anything inside. As much as Merlin hopes to be as human as he appears, there's always the unfair irony that there are fully human individuals out there who act like anything but. ]

If it looks edible enough?

[ Voice kindly incredulous, he surveys Iain's demeanor for signs that he's being dismissive for asocial reasons, or if that's his normal self coping with their first interaction the only way he knows how. ]

... It looks like the best meal everyone here has seen in a long while.

[ Or smelled, and if Merlin is lucky enough (read: gets on with it), tasted. ]

Are you having anything?

[ Not an honest question, needless to say. Just another thread in hopes of drawing out some personality and with it, more ideas on how to approach the conversation. ]

[ He does his best to crack a smile, and it's fair if Merlin sees it more as a slightly pained-looking quirk of the mouth that doesn't last very long. Because that's kind of what happens. ]

No, I'm just going to continue doing the thing that lets me feel like I have control over my life.

[ How's that for early morning jokes, Merlin. If only his expression or tone of voice indicated that was a joke more strongly. Not that it isn't obviously a joke, but without a bit more modulation, it comes off as half joke, half whisper from a bleak existential void. ]

[ Earlier, Merlin had asked Jay if he sounded sad, from what little he had to confess about his life. Jay said that no, he sounded normal.

He'd like the doctor's opinion on this one. ]

... I think everyone feels that now. To some degree.

[ Make it something you can relate to, so that in turn you can - hopefully - be related to right back. Isn't that the way you make good acquaintances out of total strangers (who can cook)? ]

Does that mean you'll be cooking all day, or...?

[ Can Iain hear the half-joke, or will he agree. There is more concern in the anticipation. ]

[ There's a curious little glance Iain gives Merlin after his everyone feels that now, because he almost recognizes it for what it is; it sounds a lot like something his therapists back 'home' would say, if not exactly how they would say it. Like Merlin doesn't quite have conviction in it.

He doesn't comment on that, though, just files it away, and he does smile (a better one) for the half-joke. ]

Suppose not.

[ Where once he would leave it at that, it's almost visible how he makes the effort to continue the conversation, as Merlin has so obligingly done before. ]

Got missions to think of.

[ Apparently, there's no real decision process for him about whether or not to go: Local Man Who Arrived In Catatonic State Totally Fine With Being Chucked Through the Timestream. ]

[ Merlin doesn't have much conviction in anything, so you got him there. ]

... Yeah. [ How ridiculous would it be to admit that he can't think about them. They have nothing to do with the life he lived before, casting himself out of everyone's way so he could remain irrelevant, unseen. With that came some freedom to make up for the prison of his 'condition'.

And now he's supposed to make himself useful and proactive. Why dis. ]

I can't say I'm getting into the swing of it so easily. [ Hmm. ] Can't think on an empty stomach, I guess.

[ Half...smile... again...? Merlin for fuck's sake just get on with it ]

Missions are closer to what I'm used to.

[ In a way, Merlin's distinct unease with people and conversing makes it easier for Iain to furnish him with one solitary tidbit about himself. Well -- he would have given that much up sooner or later. Not over breakfast, ordinarily.

He also, quite without comment or even the slightest shift in gaze that would indicate judgment, puts an assortment of things on a plate and offers it to Merlin. It's kindness or it's simply him not wanting to hassle someone he just started talking to, and it may or may not change if Merlin happens to make direct physical contact with his hand in taking the plate. ]

Oh--?

[ There's surprise there, however mild his tone comes off. His eyes lower to take the plate, muttering an embarrassed 'thank you' before taking it. Physical contact is neither here nor there; he won't be the warmest guy to pat you on your shoulder and offer you his own, but when it comes to social norms... ]

I'm Merlin. [ And out goes his hand for a shake. ]

[ While Merlin's behavior thus far makes his mild surprise no surprise to Iain, he has to wonder what exactly the man did before he was brought here to the debris of the future. The game is more difficult because his own background is so militant, making his awareness of other occupations a bit hazy.

A teacher? He imagines Merlin with a hunted expression, corralled by children. A lab technician, preferring the view of blood samples on a slide to awkward conversation in the break room.

Such benign speculation occupies him as he absently transfers the spatula to his other hand, reaching for Merlin's. ]

Iain.

[ He's not in the habit of scanning people. Usually there's not much to read, other than if they have weapons. Direct physical contact always does a little something to him, though, and this time, there's a definite moment of malfunction, a skipped beat. A very blank look and no movement from him at all, not a blink or a breath or a twitch of the muscle.

And then it all restarts, vague confusion clouding his face. ]

Nice to meet you.

[ He's not sure what he felt. His hand is limp in Merlin's, and he's slow to retrieve it. ]

[ Nothing so official, really. Or even legal, for that matter, which helps things be less traceable to the guy who needs to go disappear for a period of time with urgency and without explanation.

Besides, if he does get found out, he doesn't want to have a name on him.

And a slow handshake ensues. It's awkward, but at least it... ends soon enough? ]

Where did you learn how to cook?

[ Awkwardness, having ensued, now persists. Iain's confusion is slowly edging into potential mini-stroke territory, as much as he tries to focus on the question. He looks at his hand quizzically, then back at Merlin, putting the words into order. ]

Um. I always cooked. For my... family. --I'm sorry, what did you say? Just now? Before... this?

Edited (hours later: I didn't delete the word ......) 2017-07-07 15:00 (UTC)

[ In the pieces that he's putting together on his mental board, Merlin theorizes that the machine's done something to the man. A bit touched in the head, isn't he? The same way the people who saw Merlin crying out in a panic might think he is, too, except... the polar opposite of that. They could relate if it weren't for that. ]

I - I don't remember. [ Casual conversation doesn't tend to stick. ] Sorry, [ Here, have an anticipatory apology right back at you, ] Are you all right?

Huh.

[ This thoughtful syllable doesn't seem to have any particular meaning, other than to signal Iain's attempt to mentally rewind to the moment before Merlin touched him. There doesn't seem to be more than a second or two of lost time. He might be suspicious of Merlin saying he doesn't remember, under other circumstances or if Merlin didn't genuinely seem to be that way.

Iain looks at his hands again, transfers the spatula back to his dominant one, and shrugs. ]

Probably.

[ This one word contains vast indifference, and is casually set aside by looking back at the pan. ]

Go on and get started. I'll. Keep on.

[ Merlin opens his mouth to mutter a dead word, staring down at his plate before the awkwardness from before takes on a hint of guilt. Slight guilt, the kind that drives you to make up for something you only did wrong by social standards. ]

Wouldn't you rather join me? I mean. I don't think it's too fair of me to eat while you keep cooking.

[ He wouldn't rather, or at least, that's his first instinct. On reconsideration, sitting down has its attractions. Iain shrugs again and turns off the stove, transferring the last of whatever he was cooking onto plates that can be taken with them to the table. ]

Used to that too. So what'd you do before all this.

[ Small talk that is less small than he knows, as they take their seats. Merlin might be regretting giving into that slight guilt. ]

[ It's nothing he hasn't had to lie about before. Trouble is keeping track of who hears what depending on where he goes, and how convincing he can be when he's asked too many questions. Jobs where he just has to talk about his day instead of theories and mechanics have served him a lot better than anything else. He ought to pick the easiest one here, since he'll be using it for a long while.

Or not. Hopefully not. ]

Waiter. It's just about the least exciting and most thankless job in the world, if you're wondering.

[ Is anyone?! ]

You?

[ It doesn't really occur to Iain to question the answer, perhaps because it's not like he's got much invested in the answer. All the same, there is another little internal huh, vague, indifferent. Not great with small talk, for a waiter, bit of a weird blurb at the end there.

No cognitive dissonance, though, there must be plenty of mildly awkward waiters, and it's not like he should be judging. Iain pokes at the artificial eggs with his fork. ]

Soldier.

[ Again, he might not ordinarily be so forthright, if he wasn't pretty sure Merlin isn't about to ask him for his rank or unit or whatever it is actual military personnel, as opposed to brainwashed cultist soldiers, have. And it goes some way to explaining how accepting he is of missions. ]

Little bit exciting, not overflowing with thanks.

Oh.

[ He could, like any good American, ask where Iain's served before, but he is still aware of how different things are around here. The same terms aren't layered with the same meanings or implications, are they? 'Soldier' might be universal, but the theories and mechanics of it, not so much. Best to give him a break in that department, lest karma bite him in the ass for making specific questions. ]

They must have appreciated your culinary skills. The others. [ Finally breaking his eggs into edible pieces, the first piece is deposited and tasted in his mouth. With a nod, ] It's good.

Artificially lowered standards.

[ The trace of mock sternness is maybe a bit subtle for this conversation, if not intentionally. Iain's emotiveness is moderate at the best of times and is more conservative seeing as they're still basically strangers. ]

But thanks.

[ Eat, Merlin. Try to embrace some stereotypical bonding silence for a while, before both him and Iain exhaust their conversational capabilities. ]

[ He can't. He's too desperate to seem normal!! ]

It's the truth.

[ The sausages come next, chopped up from end to end. Not a lot of people do that, which might be another indicative of how Merlin's weird little head works, needing to occupy his hands, his mind, anything -- ]

[ Occasionally, Merlin will do something that makes Iain feel like he's acting out Iain's own inner impulses, which is both funny and weird. Maybe that's unkind, and maybe he shouldn't enjoy hanging out with the guy to feel better about his own social skills.

Things to consider, while he sighs an internal sigh and makes the effort to preserve Merlin's sausages. (Nobody can take these inner thoughts out of context, he hopes.) ]

You're not sure about the missions, then?

Well, no. I've never had any experience like what we're supposed to do. Go undercover, pretend we're - someone we're not. And fighting. Something tells me there's going to be a lot of fighting.

[ Longer sentences than he's produced in this entire conversation, and they're adequately describing all the reasons why Merlin would like to not be involved in these crazy shenanigans. ]

Are you? With your experience and all.

There might be fighting. But my guess is, only as a last resort.

[ No one would immediately pick Iain out to provide comfort or reassurance to others. He used to be that guy, funnily enough. He used to be someone you could count on.

He doesn't think about that. This, this isn't anywhere close to that, and acknowledging that fact even in the privacy of his own mind is only going to depress him. Merlin seems anxious, so he's trying to be a decent fucking human being, that's all. ]

I'd prefer to have something to do. Other than.

[ Cook for neurotics. ]

[ He'd resent that, Iain. Especially after he's done nothing but try to put on his human-nice mask. ]

I guess it'd be easier for you.

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nautonnier - 2017-07-09 00:05 (UTC) - Expand

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