thisavrou

☄ Audio
[After the battle and the damage has been done, Doc Yewll decides to give an all clear for the Med Bay. And address the damn weird problem happening.]

If you need medical treatment, come to the Med Bay as soon as you can.

Not sure how to take care of this glass problem yet. [Yet. Surely there's some record of this, somewhere.] We have some coverings we can use for it, though. I'd already been using force-fields for some of our artificial limbs, so if you need that, I can create some for you that would protect whatever fine crystal you got stuck with. I can also try to create some synthetic skin that's coated on the inside, but you'll have to be pretty damn careful with it.

[She's not even being catty this time, but she probably had a hell of a "windex" rant already, yelled at some inanimate objects converted to glass as if that would help anything.]

I promise we'll be looking into it. This is what I can give you for now.

meyneth

Hey everyone. I've been designated as the new head chef following Loki's resignation, along with the co-head chef Nathaniel Saunders. I just wanted to say that if you have any concerns or feedback that you ought to direct it to us now, not Loki. Same goes to all our lovely assistants who work in the kitchens.

That being said, I wanted to remind everybody that if you have some type of complaint about the variety of foods in our meals, or lack thereof, it's a supply problem. We've only got so many types of ingredients in stock and most of them are your fundamentals, like flour and potatoes.

Everyone did a great job bringing spices and such from home and the Collective over the last couple months, so we're okay for now - but it won't last forever unless we keep up with it. If you want meals to stay at the level of quality we're at now, please remember to bring in foodstuffs whenever possible when we stop for supplies!

Anyway, that's all. The mess hall schedule won't be changing or anything like that. Thanks for your attention.

a_perfect_end

Greetings!

[There's a reverence to that, the quiet, thunderous tenor certainty of a TV preacher about to go on a tear. He faces the camera squarely, like he can nail it in place by staring at it hard enough, and there's a manic glint to the way he smiles.]

I am Clu.

Now I don't know you, citizens of the good ship Moira, but, man, would I like to! There are so many of us here, from so many different worlds. Or, most of you are. Some of us seem to be arriving in groups--anyway!

[If he waggles his eyebrows any harder, they will pop right off his face.]

I know I'm not the only one aboard who runs parallel processes for a living. Seriously, if you dream in ASCII, or especially in C#? Call me. [Hands spread wide, animated, making big broad gestures as he begins to pace.]

And even if you don't dream of electric sheep, well. It sure sounds like some of you know me, too. Or you think you do. Speaking of: have you seen this guy? Around lately? Kinda looks like everyone's grandpa?

Well, he isn't.

Alan Bradley hurts Programs. Thinks nothing at all of doing it! Doesn't even think we're really, well, real. And I have proof, oh yes. [Only, the ugly smug grin makes that statement into something less than the moral high ground.]

So, if you want to trust everything that some sixty year-old code pusher you met yesterday says, go ahead! Believe the heavenly proclamations of the almighty User who was never even there. Just take his word for it!

[The grin melts into a sneer and hardens, shifts again into something tense and bizarrely earnest. Every word is punctuated with the jolt of his arm, pointing so hard he'd poke the camera if it wasn't attached to his wrist.]

But keep this in mind, my fellow synthetics! My inorganic brothers from another motherboard, listen up: you are of no more value to Mr. Alan Bradley--or indeed to any of his kind--than a very fancy pocket calculator.

When they get tired of you--and they will--you will be the one who will be sorry, I can promise you that.

[He looks away; he bares his teeth. Between them there's quiet venom:]

You wanna know the truth about me? About what happened to the Grid? You wanna know where your precious Kevin Flynn is.

Y'coulda tried asking me, man.

[That is certainly enough of that. Cut.]

liberaltus

[Dorian's been practicing, it took him a few tries to get the hang of it, but he's become quite proficient now, at least to introduce himself properly. So behold, your resident perfectly coifed, charming, jet-setting fop...just look into his eyes and you'll know it's all true.]

While I've been charmed through and through by those of you I've met personally, I've not had the opportunity to mingle with everyone [unfortunate, really] so I suppose an en bloc introduction will have to suffice.

[Until he can get around to the insuperable task that is rubbing elbows with everyone.]

I am Dorian of House Pavus, how do you do? [He would bow, but since that's not feasible he simply inclines his head.]

On to the meat and potatoes, yes? My duties aboard the flying cataclysm, or at least one of them, include researching and cataloging medical issues. I suppose the official title is Research Technician.

[Take note. He does sound leery.]

Not that I'm the poster child for what's considered proper, but I think it should be a matter of record that while, yes, I am a skilled researcher [why be humble, someone recognized this] my area of expertise resides within the realm of the arcane, thaumaturgy, crafting new forms of magic, and so forth. I am a Necromancer, by specialization, not a Spirit Healer and so when it comes to maladies I cannot say that I am familiar with the intricacies.

[He could point out the hallmark signs of the Taint, but that is about the extent of it.]

Not that it should get in the way of studying and filing information away for the proper healers aboard this ship. [At least until he's polished up.]

While we're on the subject, interviews may be unavoidable, but, considering my druthers I'd much rather conduct them at a distance. If some of your maladies are catching, I'd rather not be in the line of fire as I make for a terrible patient and those around me would be living in miserable despair. Nobody wants that, I can promise you.

[And someone would have to take care of him, because he's simply hopeless when he's sick!]

Now with that out of the way, quick question. Do we have any green thumbs among us, those with a natural skill for gardening? [Dorian reaches off screen and shakes a vial of seeds labeled 'elfroot' at his audience.] I have a limited number of healing, regeneration, and lyrium potions that are bound to run out...but specific plants [in addition to a handy mage] can be crafted into these useful little potions and I have many of the ingredients for this and more. Certain tonics should come in handy, resistance and armor should be useful to some, yes? Sadly I have a checkered history with dirt so in order to make this possible I'll need to know if we have gardening space and if we have gardening types among the crew. Not certain what I can offer you as compensation for your help, but I am open to discussing arrangements.

skelepun

[Solemn silence reigns for the first few moments of the broadcast. A shuffle of papers, a clearing of his throat -- or technically, a very good impersonation of it. There's no throat to clear. Anyway.]

Okay, so. I know there's been a lot of back and forth lately, kids. And I don't wanna add to the tension, but as long as we're ripping off band aids? I figure there's no time like the present.

[Another deep breath. Clearly, this is weighing heavily on the guy.]

I'm gonna say a few words that'll mean a lot to you guys. Bran. Oatmeal. Raisins. Words that should never even brush against the word muffin. And yet every Saturday, seems like those are the only muffins I see. I'm not gonna point fingers or anything. I dunno if the blame lies with the people taking the decent pastries or the persons allowing those ingredients to infect perfectly good muffins in the first place, but it's a tragic miscarriage of judgment and for the safety of the crew, I think it's important we all address the massive, raisin dotted elephant in the room.

I'm mean, jeez, guys. There are kids on this ship. What if they mistake them for chocolate chips? We're all responsible if we do nothing. Get it together, Moira.

[Another deep breath. He's said his peace. When he speaks again, it's as if a completely different person is grinning into the mic.]

And hey, as long as we're all here, feel free to air your various grievances too. Y'know, to save the Captains their bandwidth. Let it all out.

alan_1

[The audio message is posted to the network at midday. Alan’s voice is measured and serious, though some may catch a certain strained quality undercutting his words.]

This is Alan Bradley speaking. I’m posting this as a warning about one of the ship’s new arrivals -- a program named Clu. [There’s a link to Clu’s page on the MID directory here, which includes an image of the program in question. Those who were present the previous month may also recognize the name from the emergency post Alan had made some weeks earlier. For those who weren’t:] He was created as the admin of a server called the Grid. A few of you may have seen the Grid firsthand through the Ingress on Amissis-Re, in which case you know what he’s capable of. He rewrote programs against their will en masse and kept his own User trapped on the Grid for years. [Some of the anger Alan’s trying to keep in check slips through here and still lingers as he continues.] He’s a danger to everyone on the ship -- especially to any inorganics with accessible code. His only interest in rewriting programs on the Grid was to make them completely obedient and loyal to him and there’s no reason to believe he won’t do the same to any AI he can manipulate here.

Don’t let your guard down around him and don’t leave him alone with any of the AI onboard if you can help it. Death may not always be permanent here, but what Clu could do might be.

[There’s a pause that might be a sigh and then:] I think we can all agree that it’s a theory better left untested.

[And on that note, the audio message ends. He won't address Clu directly here; the program has an MID like everyone else. If he wants to respond directly, he can.]

realitywarped

[Loki's face is deliberately turned to the side, showing off the clear scar under one eye, making it very obvious. He's never been grateful for that scar before, and it chafes a little to have to be pleased about it now- but at least it makes his face his.]

Ah- I'm sure there's probably an official way to do this, but alas, I have little idea of how this usually works for mortals. Gods don't often get to quit their roles in my world. We are what we are, usually...

[He tails off, face carefully neutral. As he always is when he's feeling anything particularly strongly, he's getting overly wordy again, and he knows he has to curtail himself.]

But that doesn't apply to jobs, does it? So- I quit. You'll need a new head chef, although the routine should be more or less set by now. I doubt my staying in the role will contribute much to stability or feelings of security amongst the crew, when I share a name with someone else so very publicly denounced.

[His mouth twists up in something not much like a smile at all, expression a little bitter and wry.]

I'd hate to give someone cause to be uncomfortable, after all.

alan_1

{OOC: Grid-jumping volunteers can thread their digital adventures out here.}

[The voice on the other end of the MID transmission comes out in a rush of words, tone urgent bordering on panicked.]

This is Alan Bradley -- I’m on Amissis-Re, outside the Ingress. Rinzler -- he just… He fell through. Alone. [Tries to remember the exact consequences for that transgression. Can’t. He’s not thinking about the aftermath on this side of the portal at all.] Someone needs to find him and bring him back. If this Ingress is supposed to take people back to where they came from, then… Then he’s going to end up on the Grid.

[Likely a meaningless term to most of the crew, but the way Alan says it makes it clear that this is not a good thing. He tries to slow his racing mind long enough to string together an explanation.] It’s the system he was in before he was on the Moira. There’s another program there, Clu; if he’s there and he finds Rinzler… [There’s a pause as Alan tries to collect his thoughts, order them in a way that will make people understand what’s at stake.] Programs can’t write programs of their own, but they can edit others -- that’s what he did to Rinzler. He took a program I had written to run independently and tried to rewrite him into someone who would obey without question. And if he finds Rinzler and sees how his code has changed, he’ll try it again.

[Alan knows how this must sound. How ironic it must be, for the crew to hear the man accused of trying to recode the program himself pleading with them not to let it happen at someone else’s hands. But the situation is far too dire to worry about what the crew may think of him. All he needs is for them to trust him enough to believe that he truly is acting towards Rinzler’s protection this time.] I know none of you have any reason to trust me. Not after what I did. But I never meant to hurt Rinzler or to take away his free will. Clu will not have those same reservations.

[If Clu finds him. If Rinzler goes to him. How long would it take for Clu to detect a change in his programming? In his memories? Alan’s voice grows edged with desperation.] Please, if anyone can help, I need them here as soon as possible. I don’t know how much time we have. I--

I can’t let this happen again.

a_shadow

[ Tex is angry. Normally she'd send out a text blast, but this is an unusual circumstance, one that leads to her choosing to actually use the video feature on the MID. ]

I guess we've all gotten pretty used to taking matters into our own hands here. And why not? Even if you kill someone, all they're going to do is slap you on the wrist, right? So fine, indescriminate murder is obviously going to be a thing here. Fucking go for it. Life's cheap here.

But I'm not here to talk about that. I'm here to talk about what just happened to Rinzler. People obviously think it's up for debate whether he's sentient or has rights of his own. That's what I saw at his trial. People bringing up the idea of recoding him to solve the problem of the way he acts or the way he thinks. Lucky him for having his creator here, right? We can just reprogram him and make everything better.

Let me tell you something: that's bullshit. You might not like him, you might even think he's dangerous, but he's his own, not yours. And Alan Bradley had no fucking right to go messing around in his coding. Do you hear me, Alan Bradley? You have me to answer to for what you've done.

wordstoliveby

As it's been quite some time since I last did this, it seems time to reintroduce myself for the sake of the new members of the crew and those who aren't aware.

My name is Harry Hart and my assigned job upon the ship is Tailor. It was my job back on my world of origin and it seems I'm to continue it for as long as I'm here. What this means for you is that should you require alterations to your uniform to make it fit properly or need something entirely new crafted you have options beyond having to make it yourself or learning to do without.

Should you have need of anything, please contact myself or my assistant Ryan Farrow via the MID and we will do our best to accommodate your request. We may need some extra time to work on... unusual requests but I can assure you that we'll figure out a solution that works for everyone. After all, if we are to survive out here we might as well have clothing that suits our needs, don't you think?

meyneth

Hello, everyone. My name is Fiora. I arrived last month. To the newcomers, I'd say "welcome," but... I'm sure you're not happy about being here. So a "sorry" might be more appropriate.

Anyway, I have a couple questions. First, do we have a tailor on board? I was given a uniform when I arrived last month, like everybody else, but I can't wear it. I've tried. I can get my arms halfway through the sleeves before they become too small. Plus, even if I could get it on somehow, it... well, it would probably look really strange on me. My body outer armor has a lot of... I guess you'd call them protrusions? Bulgy bits.

[The video's camera is pulled back far enough to show Fiora's metal torso and arms, which are covered in numerous different metal plates, some of which are for decoration.]

So, um, to anyone who could help me with modifying the uniform so it works better for me, trade you for a favor in the future? I'd really appreciate the help.

[With that done, she pulls the camera back to her face and takes a breath before continuing.]

My second question is something I've been wondering since I got here. Back home, I enjoyed cooking for other people, just for fun. Can the kitchen be used for something like that? Is there perhaps a designated time for personal use? I don't want to get in the way of people working.

But, I can't exactly cook right now. I'm asking for the future. So on a related note, I wonder what people do on the ship to pass the time. Preferably something that doesn't require two hands.

Anyway, thank you for taking the time to watch this. Sorry it's so long.

( private to alphonse elric )

imaginary_wife

☄ Public Audio
Okay, so. I have some matters I'd like to bring up. If you've not met me, I'm Doc Yewll. I'm not always going to be nice to you but I will try to fix what's wrong with you. There are other doctors that have more patience than me, refer to them if you have to.

On to business.

The Med Bay still needs some repair. I'd say with a little help everything could be up and running within a few days but it does mean people with technical parts and anyone in need of surgery are going to hold off for treatment. Useful salvage to that end would be a miracle.

Also that station's infirmary has a neat trick of offering up complete medical histories. If you would be willing, please send me what you can of yours privately. I'm not going to sneak around and try to get it, but if I have a complete medical run down it means I can better help you in the future if related problems come up. Just don't grab anyone else's if that's the case. Just yours. I want absolute information consent here.

☄ Separate Private Texts to Clone Shep, Solid Snake, and Liquid Snake
I've noticed some issues with your physiology that I would like to discuss with you in private. Either message me or come by Med Bay.

braceforimpact

I have a question.

[Some precious few may recognise Kaworu's voice, but otherwise, he just sounds like a discreet, polite teenager.

Albeit one hijacking the airwaves with a very specific set of observations.]

This may be stating the obvious, but... it seems that every individual on board this ship speaks a language... right?

I find that very strange.

After all, language requires society. Without the desire to communicate--and a society to create the need for language itself--it would not exist.

But it's not just that.

We all share the same basic form. Have you noticed?

It's not a coincidence, I think. That basic form... the human form... it's very important here.

And it seems that the Moira is designed to accommodate exactly that.

Strange.

aminerproblem

[Considering the amount of scraplets that have been crawling around the ship, the handful of grooves sawed into Megatron's armor seems like a conservative amount of damage to take. He's looking more annoyed than legitimately concerned, at least. But he was never one to panic easily.]

It has become glaringly obvious that the ship has become victim to an infestation of some species of scraplet - virulent pests from my homeworld. Cybertronian protocols regarding exterminating them generally involve isolating the colony before it spreads out of control.

But seeing as it's somewhat late for that option, we'll need to concoct some more unorthodox methods of extracting them from inside the ship's internals before they eat through something particularly important.

Fortunately, the species infesting the Moira appear to be far less intelligent than the ones from our world, and are susceptible to the cold. With a little organization, we should be able to whittle down their numbers.

I don't imagine I need to explain why your cooperation is necessary if you enjoy breathing air and dislike prolonged exposure to cosmic radiation.

[That's a thing many organics probably do, he ganders.]

Using live lures to herd them into the air locks should be fairly effective, but we will need volunteers.

[ooc: log top level is here if you'd like to play something out!]

rocksatfashion

[Using the MID when you are a pony is no easy feat, but Rarity manages through determination and persistence. Having magic doesn't hurt either, Rarity has no idea what she'd do if she was forced to use her own hooves. This place is definitely not made with ponies in mind. When she speaks, she tries to make it very clear through her dialogue alone that she's a very dignified lady of value, and therefore should be treated as such.]

Greetings darlings! My name is Rarity, and yes, I am an unicorn, and I have a couple requests of you! First off: it's important to tell you that I was a dressmaker back where I come from, and dressmaking is very much my passion. However, I haven't had much opportunity to make dresses of late, and it makes me very unhappy. I would very much like to get back into my old business, so I would absolutely love it if people would donate any extra fabric they have on them, as I have very little myself. Obviously I have looked in the cargo bay and found some items of value, but I'm hoping that one of you might offer something a bit more, erm, colourful.

Secondly, I would like to learn more about making dresses for, ah, your shape and sizes. I'm almost certain I will eventually figure it out by myself, but I will need a few models and one or two pon- er, people, who are willing to give me a few pointers. I am afraid I cannot compensate any of you in any proper way, but you will be allowed to keep whatever clothes I make for you.

Thirdly, I am dreadfully sorry for not introducing myself sooner, but I am your Performance Arts Officer. As I am not one to slack on my duties, I will consider putting together some sort of event in the future. Something lovely, dazzling even! I have so many ideas! Dances, Balls, musical shows, but I would like to know what you think, as it will be you who will be enjoying them.

Anyway, that is all I have to say for now, thank you very much for your attention.

[And with an elegant toss of her mane, she switches her device off. There! She hopes she's made the desired impact.]

breakin_ur_lore

Good evening. My name is Med'an, and if we haven't met yet, I'm one of the physicians aboard the ship.

I wanted to introduce myself, and let everyone know that the medbay is always open. Even if I'm not there, someone will be able to help you, and you can always call me, too. Small injuries are easy for me to heal.

[The young man pauses, his somber expression shifting uncertainly, but he seems to rally himself and continues.]

...I also wanted to offer my services as a paladin. I'm still a student, but back home I've been training under the Hand of Argus. I know that we all come from different places...and maybe, back home, you haven't heard of the Light. But you don't have to know anything about the Light to find a paladin useful. They're sworn to protect the innocent, and uphold justice.

So...

...please let me know if I can help.

[He's concerned about the different sorts of people on the ship. Not in a "must convert people" way - that's not really what the Light is about - but he's already seen too many frighteningly damaged people aboard, and all he wants to do is help them. He is young and naive enough to believe, firmly, that there is something that can be done to fix anything, and he's determined to be a part of that.]

Thank you for your time. [Seriously, he nods to the camera, before switching it off.]

Entries tagged with xenoblade chronicles: fiora

(no subject)

video / backdated to 6/19

video; public/unencrypted; now let's go! just gimme the signal (backdated)

video; because we have all the things to say

audio; a very important statement for the entire crew

audio; a warning

Video

audio; may 14

[video] Hell hath no fury like an AI scorned (backdated to 4/30)

[voice]

video

(no subject)

2nd Impact [SOUND ONLY]

[Video] 3/30

Video

[video, March 11]