legionclubhouse | TEST DRIVE MEME

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TEST DRIVE MEME

Pick a scenario!

Scenario A: The Legion has been invited to a fancy reception with the United Planets Council because various public officials and dignitaries want to meet with the new Legionnaires. Even the older Legionnaires don't want to go, but they've been told that if they bring the rookies they'll get some funding and resources to work on their project of getting the newbies home.

So everyone's put on their best color-changing dresses and self-tying ties and are getting to work rubbing elbows and trying to pretend they actually want to be there.

Naturally, while some of the dignitaries are polite and genuinely interested in the plight of the interdimensional refugees, many of the dignitaries are downright rude in various ways, either by making the rookies feel as if they'll never measure up to the old Legion (as if being brought into this world is some fault of theirs) or by being condescending when hearing about their comparatively "primitive" worlds. ("Oh, you still use fossil fuels there? How quaint!") Some like the green-skinned Coluans are outright hostile, telling the rookies that by helping the Legion, they're betraying organic life because of the Legion's support of Robotica.

A fun time is being had by all, naturally.

Okay, that's a lie, but at least the rookies have each other to talk to, right? And there's no dearth of weird future fashion to quietly make fun off.

Scenario B: The reception is under attack! A Xanthan terrorist group has busted in and plans on taking some of the dignitaries hostage in exchange for some of their number being released from prison.

"Nobody move and no one has to get hurt!" the leader cries out, his gun pointed at Madame President.

Unfortunately for them, the Legion got a last-minute invite to this little shindig. Time to team up with one of your teammates to kick some butt and practice those quips!

REMINDER:

There are only 30 player slots in the game. We do want to remind players of that at each step towards game opening, just so they're aware during the reserve/app process that these slots might fill fast. We've also moved the opening of reserves a day to make it more convenient for the mods. Here are the current dates for upcoming events:

RESERVES WILL OPEN ON: 12/20/15 @ 5PM EST/2PM PST/10PM GMT
APPS WILL OPEN ON: 12/26/15 @ 5PM EST/2PM PST/10PM GMT
GAME STARTS ON: 1/01/16

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes, I seriously just said that. What else is a missing foot good for except terrible leg puns?"

When one lost a limb, they either let the loss send them into a spiral of depression, or made stupid jokes about it and got on with their lives. Hiccup was firmly in the latter camp, having had Gobber as a mentor.

"Oh, I like you."

Parker happily starts hauling the other woman -- Verity -- toward the door. She's not actually too heavy for Parker to pick up or anything, but she's wearing a skirt short enough that carrying her princess-style might be inappropriate. "We stole a heart back this way once. And no one got set on fire or crashed a plane or anything."

Which, admittedly, had been something of a disappointment.

"I'm Parker. I'm not good at parties unless I have something to do besides talking and eating small food."

Edited 2015-12-07 09:44 (UTC)

Arrogant scientists...well. They might not always be the most pleasant types, but Harold was somehow tolerable despite his misanthropic tendencies, insistence that he was the smartest person in the room, and felonies against proper grammar. Maybe Donnie was inclined to go easy on him because he'd been one of the first (and only) friends outside of his family that he'd been able to make, or maybe it was just that the whole "helping to stop the Technodrome and save the world" thing proved Harold was pretty decent at heart, but...

Yeah, he couldn't deny that the guy was kind of a pain in the neck.

"Most people haven't, even where I'm from." Though in a place like this, probably best to clarify that - "New York, Earth, early twenty-first century. I'm a mutant, hence the...talking."

And the size (even if he was still kind of a shortie). And the ninja skills. And the everything.

"Don't let 'em get to you. Some people are just jerks. That's on them, not you." Speed whispered. He'd had enough people bring up Rex as a benchmark around him to have learned that much.

Edited 2015-12-07 07:10 (UTC)

The many-worlds theory would probably sit well enough - he'd probably dive into it rather eagerly, all things considered - but maybe avoiding an existential crisis was a good thing for someone who'd so recently had one of a slightly different sort by getting his mind temporarily uploaded into a robot. It was an interesting intellectual paradox, but it was also incredibly relieving to just feel like himself again.

"Must be a good thing for them, knowing there are so many of us here to stop that kind of thing from happening," he agreed, his tone just a little too innocent to be genuine.

So maybe don't insult the people who stop alien invasions before your robot surgeons short circuit, being the obvious implication, delivered with a cheery nod to the dignitaries who were beginning to bail on them.

"On it!" It starts with the President and Speed disappearing in an instant. Then a black and blue streak begins pulling people out of the room at random. Speed was deliberately trying to keep any one from guessing who he was going to grab next.

He liked this kid. Already. And no, that wasn't the childhood nostalgia talking, he was clearly...

Well, it wasn't like in the cartoons. He was a kid. An actual flesh-and-blood, mutant teenage boy, one that wasn't spouting catch phrases. So Rich went at this thing like he would've for any green, mutant teenager (and he'd met quite a few mutant teens in his life to draw from experience) and held out his hand.

Realizing it was the prosthetic one, which he was still worried about controlling correctly, he switched over to his left.

"What's your name, kid? Don't think I caught it yet." Acting like he knew it already would be creepy, "I'm Rich. Rich Rider. I also go by Nova."

Anyone willing to help him with subtle (or less-than-subtle) digs at alien dignitaries was okay in his book.

"I don't know if I have enough sarcasm in me to pretend I've got anything to compliment about these people."

(Believe in yourself, Donnie.)

He reaches over to snag a piece of fruit with a nod of thanks, his hand stopping halfway to his mouth so he can stare at it. It's...glowing? Kind of? Which gets him glancing up to the lights nearby, at least one of which looks to be black, and -

"...is this fruit fluorescent?"

He sounds utterly delighted by the idea.

New York, one of the places he never really got around to when he was on Earth, but it wasn't a pleasure trip anyway. Far as he knows at least one of the L2 Colonies drew architectural influence from the 'Big Apple'.

"Yeh'don't say?" He says, then chews on his own answer a minute, as he wasn't exactly clear on the exact date when the calendar changed from AD to AC.

"23rd century if I had to guess. We got another calendar system back home. It's After Colony 199."

"There's probably positives and negatives to a name like that," Sans says, wandering over with some sort of bright pink, bubbly drink. He hasn't actually tried it yet--there's no telling what's going to process in his body and what's going to drop right through until he actually goes for it, after all.

Catch phrases are so 1987. (Though sometimes even the combined force of three brothers and their best "you've got to be kidding me" glares weren't enough to stop Mikey.)

Noticing that switch, Donnie went ahead and met the handshake with his own left, to keep things from getting too physically awkward. (There was no getting around his own hand being three-fingered and not quite shaped like a human's, but Rich, at least, seemed well used enough to this kind of thing that that much probably wouldn't make a difference.)

"I'm Donatello."

Having a superhero name at all, let alone handing it out, was something he still wasn't at all used to.

Calendar changes usually meant huge world changes, and a calendar with a name like that gave a pretty big hint as to what, exactly, the changes must've entailed.

And doing the math in his own head, putting it to a change that wouldn't be that far off from his own time...

"What's the Colony it's after, then?"

...his science senses are tingling.

"After establishing the first space colony in Earth's orbit. That's what." So basically some substantial advancements in space technology.

See, already Donatello is better company than most of the dignitaries walking around this joint.

"I'm used to the living in space, nooot so much the interspecies diplomacy."

The three-fingered hand was really nothing at all strange to Rich. He'd shaken appendages with way weirder individuals than Donnie. That was what happened when you rubbed elbows with all kinds of mutants and aliens (some of whom had tentacles) and were friends with intelligent, telepathic, Russian cosmonaut dogs. (Cosmo really did love to shake paws).

"Don't mind any of these morons. If being one of the only 'lowly pink apes' at all the big space shindigs back home has taught me anything it's that every species wants to think they're the biggest fish in the pond -- and there's always something bigger out there."

He nodded to the rest of the party.

"I've met celestial beings that'd see all these people as just...bugs. Big ol' bugs. If that. You deal with heavy hitters like that hoping you don't give them enough of an itch that they pay attention to you."

He held out his hands slightly.

"There's a whole scale." He paused. "But rather than that meaning nothing matters as far as what people get up to in advancing themselves, I think it's the opposite. The ones that never look at other people like they're lesser -- or like they're bugs -- they're the most advanced. Doesn't matter what level of tech they have, either, what matters is what they do with it."

That was his working theory, anyway.

Edited 2015-12-07 08:41 (UTC)

It was probably a good thing that he'd had plenty of exposure to different cuisines, Jason figured as he trawled along the food table. No sushi, no cheeseburgers, no hot dogs... Some of these things didn't even look like they were remotely related to things on Earth. But it wasn't bad and he'd found that you could make a few friends just by talking about how amazing the food was.

All in all, he felt fairly relaxed. Sure the mood was a bit tense, mainly coming from the younger crowd, and the arrogance of some of the adults was off-putting, but that could all be handled so long as no one lost their temper. Speaking of which... The sudden sharpness in one of the nearby voices caught his ear and he glanced over before inwardly groaning. And things had been going so well.

He scooped a pair of hors d'oeuvres off of the table and meandered on over to the situation before it got beyond a raised voice. "Hey, man." He smiled soothingly, holding out one of the sticks of food to Duo. Green and purple fruit, sweet and juicy, speared onto a skewer? Awesome. "Have you tried these? You should, they're great." He spared a glance to the older guy's conversation partner and made a subtle shooing gesture, not quite putting himself between them.

Best just to cut off these kinds of things before they became a huge problem, he figured.

"You stole a heart."

Well, that was a new one to hear. Not that she hasn't heard of heart-stealing before, but that Parker was so willing to share that. Still, the "help" out is nice.

Once they're out awaiting from the others, Verity wheels. Time for full researcher mode.

"So, are you human? You have a lot of physical power there. It's pretty rare for anyone to be that strong withou some genetict help. Add in the stabbing and the heart stealing, you're really pinging as not. Does the name 'Price' mean anything to you?"

Verity watches for a reaction. It may be rude to assume, but it's the future, right?

Buddy, your definition of "so well" is dubious. This sorta nonsense has been going on all night and he'd finally lost his cool. In hindsight he'd probably look back on it and groan himself, since it really wasn't worth getting worked up over.

"Eh?" He glances over hi shoulder at the friendly interloper, his aggravation simmering and his eyes fell to the plate. Err, nope, haven't tried it, not sure if he had mustered enough courage yet to try.

But he puts on the act anyway, answering jovially as if he'd already known Jason. He knows how to play that game. "Not yet, but I'll try anything once."

He takes the sample and eats it, nodding with some sense of 'ah that's an interesting flavor', and the man he was speaking to politely excuses himself.

Truthfully? It was more like tasting a piece of candy than fruit, given it's relative sweetness to things he was used to. It was actually sort of enticing.

"Pretty good." Opting to move past that altercation as if it never happened, glancing over Jason briefly. "Guess you're with the Legion."

"It can work. But that depends on the government."

Ferus says it without needing to reflect, having already thought it over. He wouldn't still be here if he hadn't, didn't at least put some stock into the way things were set up.

The thing is, he has seen this before, or at least something that's close enough. When his galaxy had still had democracy there had been people who served the Senate. But with a change of leadership they'd been given less and less power until they were finally struck down, and well ...

that gives you some perspective, doesn't it?

Not that he's going to say that he feels familiar with this kind of system. The fact that he was once a Jedi is something he learned too quickly not to advertise.

"They're criticizing me," Grif argues, despite the fact that he definitely started it, and is about to fire off something else in their direction when he notices they've slunk off to talk to more civilized people about certain barbarians from other timelines.

"And they act like I should be happy to be here, like the future's so great anyway," he grumbles.

Edited (typos) 2015-12-07 23:36 (UTC)

The Chief isn't happy to be here, but he isn't happy about most things anyway. It feels wrong to be whiling away these hours talking and posturing, even though he understands the funding is important. He's always hated functions like these, and years haven't made him enjoy them more. They've just made him better at putting up a front.

The best he can do is treat it like any mission: take care of the team to ensure they meet the objective. Most of the other new Legionnaires are younger than he is, and many have less experience pretending to belong in a mess like this. The least he can do is help them out.

(Feel free to approach the Chief. Or, if your character's stuck in an awkward conversation and looking desperate, he's got your back. The bright side of being a huge super soldier is you're hard to brush off.)

A

Ah yes, high society, the upper crust, royalty. This is where Azula belonged.

So why did she feel so miserably out of place?

She looks the part at least, dressed in an elegant dress of red and gold that compliments her skin making her eyes pop brightly and her skin taking on a warm hue rather then the sometimes washed out pale she has on her bad days.

Even her hair, which is a constant battle to do on her own is looking put together and shiny thanks to her steeling her courage and allowing someone to help her.

To any who didn't know better, they might think she was comfortable and happy here. But inside she wanted to set fire to at least half the people she was meeting here. Between conversations her teeth were clenched, thank the spirits she'd managed to force herself to drink some of the punch after seeing everyone else drinking it. Having something to do with her hand namely: Holding a cup was better then the constant urge punish these simpering fools for talking down to her.

Someday they would regret this party. Maybe not someday soon but some day she would ensure each and every one of them learned their place.

But for now she was taking a moment to breathe, her back to a wall so she didn't have to worry about anyone sneaking up on her.

Was it so wrong for her to wish there was some kind of horrible disaster?

****************************************************
B

There is a phrase, be careful what you wish for. Even in her world that is well known thanks to all manner children's stories.

Azula had been hoping for something to test her skills on and as luck would have it, trouble found her.

Her eyes were sharp and took in every detail as she scanned the area for who and what she had to work with to stop this situation from getting out of hand.

Grif squints at the offered delicacy with suspicion. "I don't know, it looks like something I saw on some lady's head like five minutes ago," he says, craning his neck up to see if he can find her in the crowd.

He pauses.

He looks back at Sans.

"Waitholyshityou'reaskeleton!" He takes a step back.

The Chief was slowly cruising the reception for just this kind of situation. It was enough to wear on anybody's nerves, especially if they'd never been shoved into a fancy party to pretend at playing nice with a bunch of strangers from another reality. He'd done it, and hated it enough to know to keep an eye out. The other reality had just never been this literal before.

"Excuse me." The Chief moved into the conversation with surprising ease for a man his size. "I need to borrow your friend here," he told the gaggle of aliens Hiccup had attracted. "Legion business."

He wasn't good at the maneuvering people expected at something like this, but he was good at sounding serious and formidable enough to get some tone-deaf socialites to back off.

"We stole a heart back," Parker said. "An arms dealer stole it, we stole it back."

Parker was pretty sure that you could terrorize someone with impunity if they stole hearts from children. Especially if they kidnap another kid in the process.

When Verity turns on her all questions and squinty research face, Parker takes half a step back and makes a squinty suspicious face of her own.

"I'm a thief," she answered. Nate would have let her know if there were non-human things for her to worry about back home. Or Eliot, Eliot would definitely let her know. "I've stolen from people with that name and on behalf of people with that name. Why?"

Sans holds up his hands--well, one hand and one hand full of maybe food, maybe a lady's hat--in what he hopes is a disarming manner. Most everyone here is human, or at least has a way more physical body than him, which means most anyone here, if they really wanted to freak out at him, could be rather hazardous to his health.

"Yeah, you know how it is, sometimes you're all skin and bones, and sometimes you skip the skin."

Surely jokes will make everything better.

Edited 2015-12-08 03:14 (UTC)

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TEST DRIVE MEME

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Azula // Avatar the Last Airbender // A & B

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