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 Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2012 5:37 am
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Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2012 5:39 am
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Posted: Mon Nov 19, 2012 4:27 pm
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✯Setting✯
This role play takes place in the year 3027. Immense leaps in technology have allowed for intergalactic travel, advanced artificial intelligence, among other advancements.
Artificial intelligence is a major field, making new discoveries frequently. It has not yet (intentionally) created human emotion in a machine, and the moral line of doing such a thing is yet blurry.
Intergalactic travel has become commonplace, often necessary for business, exploration, and diplomacy.
Definitive evidence of other intelligent life has not yet been found.
Earth has reached a degree of peace, but as always, political and cultural tensions continue to threaten war.
Colonization of the moon has now been going on for nearly thirty years and seems to have developed a level of stability, although it is too early to tell how permanent the settlement will be. It has become an independent nation. |
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 4:33 pm
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Posted: Mon Nov 26, 2012 8:54 pm
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"Captain on the bridge!" came the familiar call.
The standing officers snapped to salute, which the man returned as he appeared through the sliding bridge doors, but the staff working at their consoles paid no mind.
"At ease," returned Captain Knight.
He took a moment to gaze across the bridge, as was his habit, evaluating each and every station. His stern grey eyes became focused and unreadable as he calculated the condition of his ship. His appearance indicated military, although, as the Captain of a civilian starship, his ties to the military were a loose technicality. His dark red hair was cut short and plain, his face clean shaven, and he stood at least a few inches over nearly everyone on the bridge. His expression was almost always set in a serious look of contemplation. His uniform was pressed and pleated, and in pristine condition. His stance was set, and his hands were crossed behind his back.
After a moment, he brought himself back to the bridge, and turned to the Commander, Jessica Mason. She was still saluting, although everyone else had already gone about their duties. She mirrored the Captain in a number of ways, as did most of the crew, at the very least when on duty in his presence. Her own gaze was much more expressive, but she carried herself with the same official poise. Her blonde hair was drawn back in a professional medium length ponytail, and her uniform was nearly as spotless as her commanding officer's.
She began to give her situational report before he even asked for it, knowing his next question. He listened quietly until she finished, then nodded to her.
"At ease, Commander."
She nodded in return and went on her way. It was how his ship operated, neat, concise, and efficient. He liked to maintain order, and it showed on his voyages. He'd have to admit, to himself, anyway, that it was in large part thanks to his Commander and XOs. He wasn't particularly unpopular with his crew, often quite he opposite, but if his totalitarian rule was the only influence on them, he'd likely have a mutiny on his hands.
While thinking to himself, he had made his way over to the navigations console, peering over the shoulder of a seated petty officer.
'Helmsman," he ordered, "adjust course three degrees starboard, I'd like to give us some extra room between that storm and us..."
"Aye sir," the man responded, making the necessary changes.
Finally satisfied with the condition of his bridge, he turned to a young woman sitting in a back corner.
"Yeoman, any pressing concerns I need to see to?" he asked her.
"Uhh... No sir. It seems your evening is free."
"Very well then. I'll be taking my leave. I stand relieved. Commander, the bridge is yours."
He turned and departed the bridge through the same automatic doors through which he entered, and was gone.
He walked down the corridor, pondering his next stop, although, in the back of his mind he was thinking about the electrical storm drifting far off to port... It was routine, and they were well away from it, but it was a pretty bad one, and it felt like an omen... Like it bode ill of their journey.
Knight shook the thought away, and began walking for his next destination. |
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Posted: Sat Dec 08, 2012 7:03 pm
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Posted: Tue Dec 18, 2012 6:11 am
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 3:44 pm
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"Coming up right away," the red head answered, standing up and making the quick jaunt to the preparation area. He eyed the young woman for a second, as if sizing her up. Something's on that one's mind. Best to get her something heavy, the Brit mused, his hands already nabbing a shot glass and setting it down neatly. Focused on his work, Oliver slid a finger along the tops of the hard liqueur until it found the whiskey. His movements became fluid and smooth as he poured the drink, showing his familiarity with the motion. Setting the alcohol in front of the woman, a glass was set by the sink for cleaning. Oliver rolled up his sleeves, allowing the lights to cast a queer sheen from the plastic casings of his arms as he washed the glass in the warm water in the sink. "I swear, people finish drinking a leave far quicker then they used to..." the Brit grunted to himself. |
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 5:49 pm
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She watched his experienced hands traipse over the various bottles. Finally, he picked one, what it was she couldn't tell. Well, the colour was promising at least. Staring into the glass, she smelled it. Whiskey. She drank appreciatively. Oliver stood quietly, speaking to himself as he washed out a glass. Judging by his accent, he was from the UK, somewhere. Probably Great Britain. The cheap plastic on his other arm was interesting and also revealing. Not new, that's for sure. Something of curiosity had been aroused.
Dom held tensely onto the edge of the counter as an unexpected jump propelled her sideways. She said nothing, only replacing herself at her seat. Others, however, seemed to be quite disturbed by the little jump. True, it wasn't exactly normal, but there was a good likelihood that it would work its self out quickly.
"So, where are you from?" She diligently examined the man's face, continuing on as if nothing had happened, which, in her mind, nothing had. |
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 5:57 pm
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The question of morality is a slippery one...
🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰
The sudden movement was quickly detected. Shifting his weight so as to remain standing, Sentinel3 did a cursory glance over his memory to see if he could draw any parallels. Nothing came up. Something new! He quickly took further notice of what was happening; the angles, the sounds, people's reactions. So many principles had to be applied.
But at the same time, it made him slightly nervous. From what he knew, these disrupts were not a good sign, and the way the other passengers were talking further enforced this. Taking very careful notes, he watched vigilantly for any signs of what was to happen next.
⭓
🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰🀰
I couldn't tell you what “wrong” or “right” are, because I don't know.
⚛Location: A hallway, somewhere...
⚛Thoughts: I'm not sure what will happen next, I just hope it turns out for the best.
⚛Currently Speaking To: No one
⚛Doing: Attempting to synthesize current data to predict future events. |
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 7:19 pm
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The lurch had caused the bartender to widen his stance, but once the disturbance stopped, he returned to drying off the glass in his hand. He dully noted the red head's interest in his arm, and walked back over to her seat, rag still wiping away the water. "I come from southern England, mostly the area around Bristol," he shrugged, finished with the glass. He placed it back on the rack that housed them. Luck seems to be with these glasses... he mused noting that only one had fallen, and was merely chipped. "And yes, this arm is fake, as is the other." He tapped the plastic chastely before unrolling his sleeves and quickly checking that his harpoon gun was still in place. |
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Posted: Wed Dec 19, 2012 8:23 pm
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The Captain had been closely examining a console on the wall when he heard the subtle clunk far below. His stance was tight and straight, and he stumbled forward, unable to balance himself when the ship lurched.
"God damn it," he practically spat, catching himself with one arm against the wall before crashing into it, "just what we need."
Within an instant, he was down the corridor, his footsteps brisk and his face set in a cold but almost angry expression. With one hand, he had drawn a small touchscreen device and was sending a message to the bridge. [I need to know what the hell just happened, immediately.]
He was already nearly halfway back to the bridge from his impromptu inspection when the realization hit him: the ship had lost speed. It was hard to explain, but even with the inertial dampeners activated, if you spent enough time in space, and had the instinct for it, you could tell these kinds of things.
Knight looked around, and found himself in what he called the 'food court'. It was far more upscale, a central location surrounded by a number of expensive restaurants and entertainment, but the concept was the same. At the moment he was near one of the ship's nicest bars, where he could see Mr. Eadenvale serving drinks with his usual ease. The rest of the nearby staff had immediately seen to the passengers, and all was fairly calm at the moment. They were performing well under duress, he was glad to see.
It seemed like as good a place to wait as any. He was fairly equidistant from both the bridge and engineering, so he could head either way once the crew got back to him. [I'm still waiting], he typed impatiently, and headed towards the bar.
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