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( MEMES ) TEST DRIVE >> 7
Like it or not, you've been dragged from your world into the sanctum. It's a pretty nice city, all things considered--sci-fi, high-tech, glamourous.... Except, of course, for the giant dome encircling it, and the threat of glitching, contaminated zombies at your door. Looks like humanity's built itself a fortress that looks suspiciously like a cage, too. Toss in the odd memory blanks and the everpresent logo of Bifrons incorporated and it's enough to make someone paranoid.
The object of this meme is to get people familiar with the world of the Sanctum, and to try to see if their characters would fit in a sci-fi utopia such as this. Here are your options:
1. Intro: Waking Up. Make your intro post, folks. You wake up in a strange place, and get a strange transmission to go with it. There's a pair of glasses connected to some sort of communications network, but otherwise not much else in the room with you. What are you going to do?
2. Pet Adoption. Maybe you have the perfect genetically engineered pet in mind. Maybe you found a stray little escapee--do you keep it or turn it in? There's a reward if you let Bifrons know where the potentially dangerous little bugger is at, after all.
3. Alterations. Feel like you need an edge in the city? Find yourself injured and looking at options? Why not consider genetic alterations or, better yet, upgrading to a better, healthier you? Be warned, some of the side effects can be a little unpleasant.
4. Network Glitches. Strange garbled messages keep trying to come through in audio and text, but no way to track where they're coming from. Do you try to make contact? Compare notes with others? Surely it's nothing to be concerned about, right?
5. Dome Glitches. What was that in the window? There, again, in the bathroom mirror! Is that another you, living another life? Or maybe you spot an ominous shadow lurking around in the corner, something like a dysthrope but...worse. You're not going crazy, are you? Others see it, too, don't they? Oh, I wouldn't touch that reflective surface if I were you, or you might end up thinking you're living in that strange other world.
6. Outside the Dome. You're out and about without an armed escort, suited up against the atmosphere and dysthropes. It's supposed to be a green sector in this run down shell of what used to be a suburb, right? Nothing could possibly go wrong
7. WILDCARD. Choose your own adventure or create a cocktail from the presented options! The choice is YOURS.
no subject
"I'm not trying to scare you, but you know that's exactly what you'd say if you were a forgery of Eames trying to lull me into a false sense of security, don't you?"
His voice was calm and even, mostly because that was just how Arthur was, but in part because Arthur wasn't sure what was really better. Did he want this to be real? Was that actually better than the prospect of fighting off an extraction team?
no subject
"Possibly. But you know you've tried manipulating the surroundings yourself. You can't do that Escher-style of dreaming you love so much, can you?" he asked, tossing out that little nugget of knowledge in hopes Arthur would believe him just a bit. It was a quirk he was pretty sure only he would know here, but it was a gamble all the same.
A cough behind him drew his head back around to the dealer. He nodded his head and pushed a few chips forward and tossed down his cards - full house, Kings high. The other players groaned, but Eames' attention was back on Arthur. Every action should have made the subconscious look at him, glare, but there was nothing - only humans playing away their cash and for some their own dreams.
no subject
Maybe the most distressing thing was that he wasn't really sure whether this was the real Eames or not and just as he wasn't sure whether it would be worse for it to be a dream or not, he wasn't sure if it was better that this was the real Eames and this was a dream, that meant that Eames had betrayed him. They'd had their differences and their bickering over the years, but Eames had been one of the few people in their line of work that Arthur had never expected that from.
"No, I can't." He gave Eames a sidelong glance. "I think I need a drink."
no subject
A slight nod, Eames turning to the dealer and waving away his next hand, collecting his chips to cash out. He stood, thumbing a few into his hand and putting the others in his pocket (not the one with his totem, never the one with his totem).
"Come on. The bar is actually rather good here. Your usual, I take it?" he said, because what else was there to say? He could speak until he was blue in the face, but Arthur would believe what he wanted. It didn't help matters that sometimes Eames doubted this reality himself. He kept glancing towards Arthur, partially afraid that he would disappear, a production of his own mind even though he could produce nothing else (what he wouldn't have given for his favorite gun).
no subject
"Make it a double." He pushed away from the table, staying close to Eames like he was a lifeline. If this really wasn't Eames, it was a good forge. Whether he actually ordered the right drink would be the tell, though. Eames had most certainly watched him drink enough bourbon to know and if he ordered Arthur vodka or something else equally wrong, he was getting that pen in his jugular.
no subject
"Whiskey sour for myself, and a double bourbon for my friend here," he motioned to Arthur, placing on his sweetest smile for the server, just enough of his eyes hooded to suggest a pleasant sort of drunk without being sloppy.
The drinks appeared quickly, the bar tender smiling at Eames and dismissing him as another casino-goer out for a good time. Nothing to see here, nothing to comment on or pay attention to. Perfect.
He pushed the bourbon to Arthur, taking his own and sitting back, sipping slowly. Arthur's move now.