Podpop!

[cityship]

[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. Tag each other in groups of 2's, 3's, and 4's, to get some interaction to start with. If a thread doesn't already have 2 or 3 people tagged in, tag it with your character's podpop popping near the other people, rather than making a new subthread. If you would like to play out them talking to the AI, please send an email to the mods making the request--we do this only by request. Then move onto the big Newbie Meeting. Once your character has gotten the rundown from the old crew, you may start posting entrance posts and freely tagging.]


||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.

In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.

There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.

--

There was nothing. You were going about your normal life, then there was a bright light, and then? Nothing.

Then the world lurches.

The chamber here is humid.

Actually, "chamber" isn't quite accurate. You're in a cavern, half-lit by an eerie greenish light, going on and on as far as the eye can see. The light is coming from what can only be described as pods, glistening, round greenish-yellow things, glowing with a pale inner light, outlining human -- and not quite human -- forms. Each is rooted to the floor, to the walls, with something black, twisted, and unidentifiable.

They line the walls of the cavern, go up in maddeningly high columns, curling and corkscrewing up into the darkness, until the light from them is like that of the stars, glowing pale and mournful in clusters in the darkness above. Twisted walkways and stairs crisscross, traverse the platforms in front of the pods, wending their way back and forth, up and down through the chamber.

You just came from one of those pods, broke free like a butterfly from a (slimy, nasty) chrysalis.

Now you stand alone but not quite alone, naked, not knowing how you got there, who took you, or why you were taken.

As your body heats up again, you realize the air is warm -- just a few degrees too warm to be comfortable -- and muggy; it smells acrid and organic, like freshly spilt blood and sweat. Your mouth tastes of salt.

The floors are pulsing under your feet, throbbing...

Wherever you are, this entire place...is alive.

Oh, and also you're naked and covered in alien snot.

When you call out, ask where you are, a voice speaks to you, in your head. She tells you:

||You are here.||

When you ask who she is, she tells you that her name is STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT, but that you may call her Stacy. When she tells you who she is, there is a gush of emotion, love, maternal warmth. You are on a ship. She is that ship. Her name is Stacy and she loves you. Her voice is warm and motherly, even if these messages sound almost automated.

Glowing phosphorescent lights appear in pustules along the floor. They lead you up a massive spiraling walkway that gives you a view of what are possibly millions in stasis. At the top is a room with moving vines that clean you and clothe you in a plant-like body-suit--soft, but durable. After that, the lights lead you to a great cavernous room with a clear floor that lets you see all the holes and tunnels in the walls of it. When you reach the center, the last thing she tells you before whisking you away to gather your belongings and meet the rest of the crew is this reassuring thought:

||You have been Chosen to accomplish a Great Purpose. You have been Chosen to help fight the Ohm, a race of insectoid beings that are the destroyers of worlds.||

||You have been Chosen as champions of life, as protectors of the worlds and peoples that are left. The others are waiting for you. They will explain everything.||

She will tell you nothing more. Your answers lie with these "others" she speaks of.

Comments

[neveradamsel]

Ducking behind a pod is all well and good and her absolute first instinct, especially when in the company of a male she doesn't know whatsoever - except that doing that is counter productive to actually finding a set of clothing and covering herself in the long run. She could be there all day, and relying on others kindness at this point didn't seem like a good idea, especially when they're all in the same situation as she is.

"Yes. The sooner the better."

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

The walkway is lit with countless phosphorescent, ghostly glowing lights. It is, for lack of a better word, and as Zouichi climbs upward, he can see countless rows of pods similar to the one he himself was apparently stored for some time.

He doesn't particularly want to look at the faces inside. They make him wonder where they came from and what dreams they had been pursuing before they were snatched up from their everyday lives and encased indefinitely there, like insects in amber, until the ship -- Stacy -- decides it's time to disgorge them. He doesn't want to, but he does anyway, because he figures they deserve that much.

"What did you do on Earth?" he asks.

[neveradamsel]

Roxanne walks with her arms folded and her shoulders slightly hunched - a posture that she doesn't assume often and only during those times of brief vulnerability, which were admittedly few and far between.

It's also a way to attempt to hide herself as much as possible. She takes to walking beside him staring pointedly forward instead of at the pods, the faces.

"I was a reporter. Head reporter for KMCP 8, actually." Casual conversation is good - it helps keeps her mind from focusing on the more pressing issue of her nudity. "You?"

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

Zouichi paused for a moment, considering. People didn't really ask what he did very often. They were usually absorbed in other concerns, like running from drones, or hiding in shelters. Sometimes they just shot at him, but those were generally the military types.

"I was... created to counteract a virus epidemic," he said, figuring that she was the kind of person who'd just ask if she wanted to know the gritty details. Besides, it sounded like she had her own problems. "I was supposed to be tracking down people who were immune, to try and create a vaccine."

[neveradamsel]

"What kind of virus?" Roxanne does ask, for several reasons. A lot of it to sate her own curiosity, shying away from personal and probing questions is just part of who she happens to be.

Some of it is to continue distracting herself.

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

"It's a highly-transmissable airborne virus that turns people into..." Zouichi trailed off. No reporter worth her salt (and he imagined this one was no exception) would have to ask 'what kind of virus?' unless, of course, the ship had been telling the truth when it mentioned "worlds". The existence of multiple versions of the same Earth had long been speculated over during the course of human history, so he could take this much in stride.

However, if N5S didn't exist in her world, he wasn't sure whether he should be burdening her with that information. After, all, she seemed to be interested in light conversation which, as far as he remembered from his training, did not include talking about how a lot of people died horrible deaths.

"Listen, are you sure you want to know about this? I mean, it seems like it doesn't exist where you come from, and it's not exactly light listening."

[neveradamsel]

She misunderstands, and assumes the reluctance is because he doesn't want to discuss it himself.

"Sorry - it's a habit," she apologizes quietly, though she quickens her pace just a little. "I ask a lot of questions in general. Call it a nervous habit. My mom sure did."

[zouichi.livejournal.com]

He wondered if he had said something wrong. He didn't have nearly as much experience conversing with people face-to-face as he did in combat, but he could tell that she was upset.

"No, it's all right. Basically, it turns people into mindless drones, and a lot of people got infected; most of the normal people left live in armored shelters. But the company I was working for was hoping to find a cure for it before time ran out. I don't know how far they got." He paused. "I guess now maybe I'll never know."