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Priority Log - Part 2
Log 06 Priority (Part II)
Still the Big Screen Car
The last two weeks have been a busy time at FONY Records! Maybe you've been working diligently on your upcoming projects — or maybe you've been fighting the sense that something is wrong. That this life, whether it's better or worse than before, is not your own.
Either way, passengers will finally receive a new objective on their phones...
From here on out, characters can regain their real memories. They can do so randomly, but the most reliable way is to work with another passenger: they will know that by touching foreheads (yes, headbutting counts) for pairs, or huddling very closely for groups, they will unlock some memories for one or all of them — of course, it also allows the other person to see and feel everything play out, as though they lived it themselves.
It's memshare time!
As passengers regain their memories, their AU lives will start to fade. Production crews disappear, texts from your parents delete themselves, your favorite coffee shop is suddenly empty... Because you can't have both.
At least one character will need to reject the AU in order for everyone to progress; there is no minimum comment count. Characters may go both routes, but should ultimately prioritize one for the AC Poll.
Remembering
As characters regain the memories of their real lives, all semblance of their fake ones will rapidly disappear. And choosing to remember comes with side effects: passengers are overtaken by a fierce chill as the source of the cold finally presents itself. The shadows in the empty buildings around them start to stretch out. These shades collect in huge swathes — and shape themselves into sharp, spindly arms and fingers. They'll grab at whoever passes, leaving them cold and constricted, making it hard to remember what's happened and trying to drag them back into the illusions of the AU. However, when these shadows have manifested, they're also vulnerable: they can be dissolved by using a strong light, like a fire, flashlight, or stage light. Even sunlight will do the trick, but physically resisting the shadows will grow more and more difficult as they sap warmth from everything they touch.
For those less physically inclined, the shades have one more weakness: real, happy memories. By focusing on something that brought them past comfort, however small, characters can drive off the shades little by little.
This force controlling the AU clearly lives in shadows. Characters can weaken it by confronting these shades, in which case they will find themselves alone with their memories and a ghostly, empty city of Danaca.
Resisting
But maybe you don't want to remember—maybe your life in Danaca is too good to give up, and you'd rather have this even if it's not real. Unfortunately, once the illusion starts to shatter, there's no stopping the cracks from spreading.Characters that don't regain their memories through contact with other passengers (whether intentionally or unintentionally), will still find their fake identities starting to fade away, but their real identities won't be able to fill the gaps. Instead, they'll find themselves... hollow. Devoid of personality, hopes and dreams. Empty.
...And in that empty space, something else might slip in. The steady collapsing of Danaca has left plenty of strong emotions and ghosts hovering in the air, and passengers might find themselves embodying a powerful current of despair or anger. Or perhaps one of the false denizens might inhabit them (Chadsef, anyone?). Contact with another passenger might also ignite enough memory to return their personality, but it might also give them the wrong one; they might start acting like someone from their memories instead, such as a childhood friend (or enemy).
Regardless of the scenario, there is one common thread: an innate desire for contact with other passengers. Though they won't remember why, passengers will eventually be driven to reclaim their original selves through memshare with other characters. Whether they get everything back before they leave is up to you!
OOC Notes
AC Check is up! The deadline to submit AC is December 1st, 11:59 p.m. EST. Please note this is a day extended as we've pushed the log back a day, AC schedule overall will remain as normal.
Memshare: To add a little spice, memories do not need to be limited by your character's canon point. That is to say, sharing scenes from your character's future will also count as memshare.
Continuing Memloss: Characters may or may not regain all their memories prior to leaving the car, player's choice. The memshare mechanic will no longer be in effect, however players are free to naturally regain memories over time.
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no subject
Yeah, for now. Not like I have any say in the matter.
[He doesn't want to think about what might happen if they leave the train and this sticks, so he focuses on the task at hand, instead. Predictably, he's not very strong, but he grounds himself and tries to pull her up. There's a little bit of stumbling, a combination of his lack of coordination and her general frozen-ness, but he manages to get her leaning on him, doing his best to support her weight.]
What did you try to do?
no subject
[Of course he wouldn't have a say. That's half the conceit of this train car, to make you something you're not. It's weird how Gloomy seemed to have forgotten who she was, wholesale. Did it depend on how bad you wanted to change, or were they all afflicted at random?
She knew the girl was miserable. Sure. Anyone with eyes (or a nose) could tell that. But to wish the whole world away for such a crappy, half-baked Hollywood fantasy? Come on. That's just pathetic! Besides, what good was this place if Master wasn't here with them?
Though Wheatley predictably fumbles, she doesn't begrudge him the incompetence. She's fucking freezing, and they get upright in the end. She winds an arm around his shoulder and snarls both hands in his shirt. Gotta get these puppies back in working order.]
I tried to kill 'em. What else? [She breaks off in a cackle, but it's too dry to belie real mirth.] Turns out, you can't stab a magic shadow. Who would've thought? But my beautiful scissors are the only weapons I got, and when they won't work...
[She trails off as they hobble forward. Oddly thoughtful for a change.]
I think they were trying to yank me back into that whole delusion.
no subject
[The rest of it, and also the fact that she was not actually volunteering, is mostly going over his head. Luckily, the next order of business means he's not doing much but trying not to collapse, with Jill leaning on him so heavily and now entangling her hands in his sweater. It takes him a moment to balance out this arrangement, but once she's settled into her preferred arrangement, he ventures a few steps, dragging her along.
Wheatley isn't sure where he can get her to that's warm, now that everything seems to be crumbling around them. He settles on a nearby storefront--maybe it's a bookstore, or another coffee shop, pointing them in the direction and starting to walk in earnest. It doesn't surprise him that she tried to kill the shades, and really, he's not sure what he would've done besides run, so he can't begrudge the attempt.]
Well, you're with me, now, so they'll have to drag us both back, kicking and screaming. Which, actually, they might, because I don't have--I haven't got any weapons at all, so. Do keep an eye out. While I get us inside.
no subject
[That earns another cackle, as raspy as the last. And shit, you'd think she was trying to foxtrot on an ice rink over here, her heel slips again and her weight falls all on Sweet Wheats. She grunts, righting herself and lifting that leg to give it a firm shake, like a dog shucking water. Damn. How much longer would it have taken to freeze to death?]
Never felt so shitty in my life! Is this what normal people deal with? Pain never bothered me. Actually it gives me a bit of a thrill. A tasty treat to remind you to live while you're alive. No one ever got the drop on me before we boarded the Space Train, let me tell you.
[He prattles on, some mild concerns. She flashes him a bright grin. At least the muscles in her face are returning to form.]
Oh don't you worry about that, Mini-Wheats. I'm always armed. Maybe these shadows can give me a run for my money, but I'd keep them pretty damn busy while you haul your carcass away! It might be fun, maybe I'll figure out the trick to killing 'em in the rematch. Maybe we need to get creative, huh? Let's put our brains together!
[She knocks her forehead against his. Hard.]
How do you get rid of a shadow? Hmmmm?
no subject
[He's just gonna go on about it until she stops him. Wheatley has already almost fallen over with her latest stumble, but he seems to have his feet under him now just in time for her to turn to face him and smack their foreheads together. He cries out immediately, both not expecting that and, as he's just elucidated, extremely sensitive to physical contact and also extremely sensitive to having his forehead bashed.
Wheatley does not, however, have much time to voice his displeasure, because suddenly there's a roar in his ears, and he's back in the facility, bloody massive and in charge of everything. It's almost instantaneous, how he gets caught up in it, everything as vivid as the first time it happened--the rumble of the imploding facility, the fire that he knows is raging in the background, the test subject below him. Just like the last time, he finds himself desperately clinging to power as everything falls apart, except this time he has some awareness of how it all goes wrong.
He wants it to stop--the last thing he needs is a reminder of how terrible he was, how he tried to kill the test subject and simply didn't have the capacity to maintain the facility, but it all plays out unchanged, and the worst part is, he doesn't even know why.]
1/2 I GUESS
This really wasn't what Jill had in mind when she demanded they put their heads together. She was expecting like, a scheme. Maybe a cute little "OUCH". No? We're doing hallucinatory horseshit?
Okay fine but she refuses to learn any life lessons.
Not that she's going to get any here. She's in double perspective. A sense of being Wheatley — that's who it's gotta be, the manic swinging space probe with a vacuous English accent is either the same guy or a big ol' metal prison for him — and a sense of watching Wheatley. And boy, what a show he's putting on.
Jill has no idea what to make of things for a moment. There's a silent woman with a funny little gun (her heart seizes, the sight makes her miss dear Dekomaru all the more) who is being forced to dodge bombs, neurotoxins, and the longest running villain monologue Jill's ever heard. And that's counting ol' cow-tits Junk-Face herself, who at least let people cut in here and there. Sheesh, why won't this gal tell him to shut up? What is she, mute?
Jill dodges the fire, flinches as the rotten gas pumps out. None of it phases her. She's little better than a ghost
in the shell. Once she clues into that, she slows down and listens. Listens good.In between the complaints and the prattling and the heavily massaged grudge about not being caught once during a fall, there are the threads of a damn good story. The woman does her work, piles on little talking orbs to weigh him down. Bursts pipes. Makes wormholes with the pea shooter, working total miracles as her, uh, pet potato goads her on.
Potato? Jill bends and squints. Yes. It is a potato.
The whole place is threatening to disintegrate, and there's rip in the roof. It's a full moon, fellas, watch out for werewolves. And as the woman points the gun skyward, Jill begins to laugh. Laugh long, laugh hard, even as her phantom self is sucked into the void of space along with them. It's just too funny. It's just too much. Wheatley curses and commands, fighting the relentless suction pull. There's the American flag, there's all the little craters! Is that Armstrong's footprint over yonder?
Then he's jettisoned off. Jill sails along with him. The woman is yanked back through the portal she came from, safe and snug while they're left to drift amid the stars.
It's just too cold.]
2/2, Danganrona spoilers, CW: death of a minor
Jill's feeling more like herself. Or at least in her own body, if not her own mind. Because she doesn't remember this. Couldn't possibly. It's a student council meeting and Cherry's still alive.
They're in the gym. Aaaah, good old Hope's Shriek Cry School. That's probably what they should have named it. This has to be something Gloomy remembers — oh wow, the baseball kid's here too? Shit, she missed so much! Her other half kept her under such sound wraps for the first few days, it's a wonder Jill ever figured out what was going on!
The only reason she doesn't assume it's an older memory, something from the peace times, is because of him.
"So, um...what exactly is this punishment you keep talking about?"
"Oh! Well, to put it simply..." The teeny teddy bear voice is as grating as she remembers. It's almost nostalgic by now. "It's execution!"
That would be it. Right, rightrightrightright. Okay, context clues! If we're doing headcounts, everyone except their local celebre-titty was present and accounted for. Miss Maizono Sayaka, gone but not forgotten. By the time Jill joined the party that bitch was nothing more than a funeral portrait. Unlike her other half, she never bothered to hunt down the footage of their Killing School Life, so she never thought twice about what happened. She knew she was dead, but geez, being the first to go? Lame. Jill would have put money on her sticking it out an extra round. The music biz was ruthless, surely she had more fight in her than this.
Same with little Miss...hey. Hey.
"You're freaking insane, you know that?!"
The girl that stands up to Monokuma looks like their Mistress of Mayhem, but baby, that ain't her. Jill is partly herself and partly not, so she has the surreal feel of leaning out of her own body to take a closer look. The Mastermind never had freckles. And her chest was a helluva lot bouncier, this chick's sporting a C-cup at best. Jill would know, she keeps careful stock of these things. What's going on here?
Wait. Oh. Oh, this is—
The imposter slams a foot down on the bear. The bear lays prone beneath, but it doesn't stop talking. "Violence against Headmaster Monokuma is not allowed. You've violated a school regulation..."
Jill's dumbfounded, but picking up her cues quick. She remembers there was a lot of deception going on, and some talk of a sister during that final trial, and now that she's wandered closer she realizes that she does know this girl. Never spoke to her. Didn't want to risk it.
"I invoke the mighty summon spell!"
It would be bad news to cross the Ultimate Soldier. Especially face on.
"Help! To me, godly spear Gugnir!"
You'd need the element of surprise.
That's what she gets, too. From out of fucking nowhere they come flying. One spear, two spear, three spear, four.
You can't count when they come in that fast. The girl's no better than a pin cushion, staring as her own blood spews from each perfect puncture. She shivers. Pales to white. "Wh—... Huh?... This wasn't...supposed to..."
That's another one Jill only saw as a crossed-out picture. So here you have it. Mystery solved. The Mastermind's sister, touting her clothes and dying for her cause.
Even for a ruthless hound like Jill, there's not a lot to laugh at here.]
((Watch here: from 5:15-8:59))
you are too good for me i smooch this tag cw: vomit
And also a bear. A bear???
He doesn't have much time to dwell on it because it all happens faster than he can really process. The teenagers are all yelling and the bear is talking about how it's going to start executing people, and then someone is attacking the bear and then she does get executed. He's no stranger to watching humans die, often in gruesome ways, but the sheer shock of it all is almost overwhelming. There's so much blood, everywhere, and he is capable of throwing up now and that's what snaps him out of it.]
Wh--
[Thankfully he manages to aim away from Jill's shoes, but he involuntarily grips her shoulder as he leans to the side and retches. In any other situation, he might be openly horrified by the fact that he's just discovered a new and unpleasant way to expel fluid, but he's still trying to process the rush of whatever just happened.
He releases Jill and hunches over, holding himself up with his hands on his knees as he coughs out bile. It takes him a moment to be able to speak again.]
What was that!? I saw--
[He still has no idea that Jill was seeing it too--the thought doesn't even occur to him that this was something shared. All he knows is that he was suddenly and all at once forced to relieve one of his worst memories, and then something else entirely. He doesn't have the processing capacity to make sense of it.]
i smooch your face and never let you go
[Jill is frankly surprised he wasn't horking it at the diner. He made such a stink about putting grub in his gob, she was sure she'd catch an Exorcist spray to the face.
He releases her and her footing fumbles, but hey! Looks like putting their heads together did do them a bit of good! She doesn't feel like a popsicle anymore! Wheatley gets to have his cutesy little meltdown in peace while Jill kicks out her legs and swings her hips in a circle. Joints and circulation, folks, two essentials for staying spry in old age.]
Hmm? What you saw? You oughta know, we started off in your head. Or did I have a stroke and imagine you blasting off to space?
[Kind of embarrassing, buddy.]
I guess you wouldn't know anything about part two, though. If it makes you feel better that was news to me, too! My other half saw that. I did wonder how the first killings went. What a way to go, huh? Bet she was hoping for a different kind of double penetration! Or was it duodecuple? Did you count?
[That's twelve by the way. Jill would explain but she's too busy laughing at her own jokes.]
no subject
[The vomiting, however, is increasingly less important as Jill recounts his own memories and all he can really do is gape at her. Now he has to process this, and figure out how to cover his own ass--part of him knows that Jill doesn't really care, but most of him is so terrified of this information getting out that it takes concentrated effort not to panic.
He's panicking anyway. He doesn't know what else to do.]
You saw-- [All of that? Oh, no.] I can--I can explain.
[He probably can't explain, but he makes a slightly desperate grab for her arm, as if he expects her to pull away from him.]
It isn't what it looks like! There's, uh. Context. Lots of context, that I'm sure didn't--didn't come through. While you were watching.
no subject
[Jill pops a hip and lays a cool hand on it, absolutely unbothered by his mounting horror. Oh sure, there were plenty of questions to be asked. But watching him squirm is just too good to pass up.]
Like what? Not catching you when you fell off the rail? I didn't know that was an offense punishable by death.
[She pauses.]
Not that I can talk. Hair trigger temper and all that. Heh...
no subject
He ventures a question.]
You didn't kill that girl, did you? It was--was that a robot, or something?
[Certainly explains a few things, and his first instinct is to assure her that not all robots are like that, but clearly that's not true. He was like that.]
no subject
Like recognizes like. The motives and moods may vary, but Jill bets he's still got a temper on him. He's just stuck in a body that can't make good use of it. Short man syndrome, am I right ladies?
Though the accusation he follows up with shuts her up good. It's as if all the mirth has been wiped from her body. Her stare is tar-black. Bilious. Disquieting.]
What? You think just because I'm a killer I'm guilty of all kinds of things?
[The snap is explosive. She's not got her scissors out, but the finger she jabs his way looks just as poised to pierce.]
WELL I'M FUCKING NOT! Of course it was that shitty bear-bot! Better yet, it was the psycho bitch piloting it!
She's the one who ran the game! She's the one who rigged the school up like some snuff-fetish fantasy! No one was allowed to leave unless they killed someone else, and then they had to get away with it, too! If they didn't, lights out! Public execution, personalized to your particular disliking! You think I would come up with high-faluting crap like that just to kill one chick? Hell, you think I had the budget?!
[She thumbs her nose and tosses her hair.]
I'm a serial killer. Not a megalomaniac. Wise up, Wheats.
no subject
No, no, that's not what I--I didn't mean that!
[He still doesn't understand much about what he saw, but he does know that all of the people in the memory were human children. Despite his outward demeanor, he's seen a fairly significant amount of human death, both caused by him and otherwise--for the first time, he finds that he's a little horrified about this. Even if she's a killer herself, this shouldn't have happened to her. It's terrible, and wrong.
Which means, perhaps, that what he did to the test subject was terrible and wrong in turn. ]
Your other classmates, did they--
SCREAMS please forgive me for the delay
Nonetheless, her tirade has ended and her temper has flipped. She's positively serene as she answers him now, flicking an impatient hand through the air.]
Eh, mostly dead. Guess there's a secret killer in all of us, just waiting for the right incentive to arise! But anyway, six of us got out. Out of sixteen. That's what? A third?
[Close enough. Jill isn't here to do math.]
And how many did you give the axe to? Sounds like you had a couple test subjects go wrong. What'd ya do, Wheats? Was it the neurotoxin, or the fire?
[It was hard to say. He was kind of a on a tear back there.]
shhHHHHHH
I don't--I don't know what happened to her.
[It's not like he was able to check, given the fact that he'd been sent hurtling into space, but he did see the test subject pulled back through the portal. He's got no idea what GLaDOS did to her after that, or if she even made it back to the facility alive.
Any hope of making it through this conversation without admitting to additional deaths evaporates when she mentions the others. He thinks, for a moment, he might deny it, but all the things he said in his lair are fresh in his mind. He did taunt the test subject with the others he'd pulled out of stasis before her. There's no real getting around that.]
The others, were--accidents. You know how it goes, you pull them out of stasis, try to--to get them to the portal device, but they're all disoriented from cryosleep so then they slip on something and they bash their little heads in, or fall into some water, or the turrets get them. I wasn't--I never wanted to kill them!
[Wheatley is practically begging, at this point. He doubts that Jill is going to be particularly sympathetic, but the last thing he wants is for anyone else to find out.]