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thevictoriandetectiveCan you get me an arm or a leg or something to experiment on? I haven't made any friends with morgue personnel yet.
Eyeballs would be fantastic too. The best I could do lately was a severed finger I found in a gutter.
-SH
thevictoriandetectiveCan you get me an arm or a leg or something to experiment on? I haven't made any friends with morgue personnel yet.
Eyeballs would be fantastic too. The best I could do lately was a severed finger I found in a gutter.
-SH
abandon_hope[ The video shows an incredibly gangly young man in a black aviator's jacket and dark clothing. Black and skulls are all the rage for this kid, and he tops off the aesthetic by having a long, black sword in view of the camera, albeit set off to one side. He could be intimidating, perhaps ... if not for the array of miniatures also set in front of the camera. Nico is just a big ol' nerd.
He's slightly red when he addresses the camera; the color looks odd on his pallid cheeks. ]
My name's Nico di Angelo. [ A beat. His eyes track offscreen; he's clearly reading off a notecard of some kind. ] I'm a half-blood - or a demigod, whatever you want to call it. Son of Hades. [ Better to get that out of the way now before making this kind of request. ] I was here a while back, so if you met me before I'm the same guy. And ... um ...
[ Gods, just get on with it. Why is it so hard to ask such a simple question? ]
Does anyone want to get a roleplaying campaign together? I - er - I'm mostly familiar with Myths and Mazes, but I can build stuff for any kind of d20 based system. I like making up that kind of stuff. I've got three people so far but I can take up to three more.
He's slightly red when he addresses the camera; the color looks odd on his pallid cheeks. ]
My name's Nico di Angelo. [ A beat. His eyes track offscreen; he's clearly reading off a notecard of some kind. ] I'm a half-blood - or a demigod, whatever you want to call it. Son of Hades. [ Better to get that out of the way now before making this kind of request. ] I was here a while back, so if you met me before I'm the same guy. And ... um ...
[ Gods, just get on with it. Why is it so hard to ask such a simple question? ]
Does anyone want to get a roleplaying campaign together? I - er - I'm mostly familiar with Myths and Mazes, but I can build stuff for any kind of d20 based system. I like making up that kind of stuff. I've got three people so far but I can take up to three more.
pummelgraniteHey. What are gods like from your world? Ever met one? Even think they exist?
Also related question, but mostly cuz I got Wikitrapped. Who wrote The Raven and how'd he die?
Also related question, but mostly cuz I got Wikitrapped. Who wrote The Raven and how'd he die?
curada[The video opens on a guy with a mass of long hair that's being tied behind with both hands. The feed captures his medical coat, and the dim blue hue of monitors to his back. Their light reflects off the metal shelf by his right, whilst his desk sits in darkness, save for a lamp pointed down at the papers on its surface.
Machines hum in the background; together with the ticking of a clock and nearby footfall. He takes a hasty glance and, unsure of how to begin things, shuts his eyes. Does he introduce himself? Does he jump straight to his question? His fingers pull the tie taut then tap his sides. Last month's events were a strange twist of fate - a collapse of logic - that did not allow them peace. Alas! They had raised a question he could not solve alone.
It takes a moment of thought before he talks. His voice is calm but his speech? Noticably slow.]
On examining the situation with the rise of native superheroes, as you call them, I find myself puzzled. We beheld those who were ordinary become capable of the extraordinary. I request you answer one question that's on my mind:
What is the place of imPorts in this world now?
Machines hum in the background; together with the ticking of a clock and nearby footfall. He takes a hasty glance and, unsure of how to begin things, shuts his eyes. Does he introduce himself? Does he jump straight to his question? His fingers pull the tie taut then tap his sides. Last month's events were a strange twist of fate - a collapse of logic - that did not allow them peace. Alas! They had raised a question he could not solve alone.
It takes a moment of thought before he talks. His voice is calm but his speech? Noticably slow.]
On examining the situation with the rise of native superheroes, as you call them, I find myself puzzled. We beheld those who were ordinary become capable of the extraordinary. I request you answer one question that's on my mind:
What is the place of imPorts in this world now?
[TEXT] Four (Five Seconds)
Sep. 30th, 2016 01:57 pmpummelgraniteLooking for:
Security. Powered.
Bartender. Powered.
Professional choreographer, experience with necromancy a plus
Professional necromancer
Architectural consultant- power and necromancy experience still probably a plus
Inquire by falling to your knees screaming in tongues and ripping out your hair, replying to this posting, or DMing Constantine
Security. Powered.
Bartender. Powered.
Professional choreographer, experience with necromancy a plus
Professional necromancer
Architectural consultant- power and necromancy experience still probably a plus
Inquire by falling to your knees screaming in tongues and ripping out your hair, replying to this posting, or DMing Constantine
[text; wee hours of the morning]
Sep. 26th, 2016 11:53 pmmedalsomeDo you believe in God? Gods? Do they exist where you're from? What about angels or demons or anything like that?
Where I'm from the existence of gods is hard to deny. People are pretty devote and religious. Church is an intrinsic part of our culture. It takes someone pretty hardheaded or self-centered to deny the existence of higher powers, but here there's not much emphasis on religion. Guess I'm just kinda curious now. Is it more like my home in your worlds, or more like this one?
[Joaquin may be slightly drunk, or perhaps he's just tired.]
Where I'm from the existence of gods is hard to deny. People are pretty devote and religious. Church is an intrinsic part of our culture. It takes someone pretty hardheaded or self-centered to deny the existence of higher powers, but here there's not much emphasis on religion. Guess I'm just kinda curious now. Is it more like my home in your worlds, or more like this one?
[Joaquin may be slightly drunk, or perhaps he's just tired.]
cleptesFirstly, I want to announce that Herodotus Antiques is having a sale! I'm making room for new stock so everything is marked between 20% to 50% off the original price! Please come down to see what's on offer.
[No fancy graphics this time around.]
Secondly; anyone know of a good pest control service? I have a bit of a rodent problem in my off site stock room.
And last, but by no means least, how about that recent announcement in regards to the Ambassador election? Seems like only yesterday since we had the previous one, but I suppose it's one of those things that have to be done around here. Should make for a few interesting months ahead. Provided that we don't get attacked or invaded, of course.
[Her reasoning for mentioning the election is two-fold: one, to see who lives in Nonah and two - to see who may have already expressed interest in campaigning.]
Apologies in advance if I have jinxed everyone with that last sentence.
[No fancy graphics this time around.]
Secondly; anyone know of a good pest control service? I have a bit of a rodent problem in my off site stock room.
And last, but by no means least, how about that recent announcement in regards to the Ambassador election? Seems like only yesterday since we had the previous one, but I suppose it's one of those things that have to be done around here. Should make for a few interesting months ahead. Provided that we don't get attacked or invaded, of course.
[Her reasoning for mentioning the election is two-fold: one, to see who lives in Nonah and two - to see who may have already expressed interest in campaigning.]
Apologies in advance if I have jinxed everyone with that last sentence.
excessivehubris[ This was not the route Charles wanted to take with this. But his attempt to handle it privately and internally had been met with the same level of dismissal as the conversation he and this version of Tony Stark had back in April.
Which was to say, complete dismissal.
After speaking with Peter, Charles had spent a few hours on the top of the roof considering his next move. Tony was … Tony had been his friend. One of the first he’d made upon coming to this new world, second only behind Erik and at times a support for him when Erik had been … Erik.
He didn’t want to have to do what his gut was telling him needed to be done, but if Charles had learned anything from tangling with En Sabah Nur; if he’d learned nothing else from Raven, Hank and Erik … he’d learned that he couldn’t just bury his head in the sand and hope for the best. Hope was important, hope was vital but it could be just as destructive when not balanced with the resolve to do what needed to be done, when innocent lives were on the line.
Though he had now been awake for almost two days straight, a fact that might be noticeable to anyone who knew him well, the professor was sharply dressed (three piece suit and all) and looked resolute from behind his desk. He had been busy, from well before dawn and up to this point.
He had shifted pieces all across the chessboard and while he did not delude himself in to believing that Tony was even in check, Charles knew the next moves would require aid from the imPort community as a whole. ]
Good morning.
It is with great regret and sincere apology, we must announce to the world that an internal investigation has revealed that the StarkTech “4” application is an abomination and an expression of the weakness and failure of its creator; Mr. Anthony Edward Stark.
[ Peter Parker is standing behind Charles and to the right, leaning slightly on the desk to keep himself in frame. Where Charles is dressed to the nines, Peter looks like he’s come straight from the lab--rolled-up sleeves, goggle hair and all. He sways forward as though he’s about to cut in, then just as visibly bites it back before he waves Charles to continue. ]
( Non IC cut in which it comes to light that Tony Stark is an ass. An even bigger ass than usual )
Which was to say, complete dismissal.
After speaking with Peter, Charles had spent a few hours on the top of the roof considering his next move. Tony was … Tony had been his friend. One of the first he’d made upon coming to this new world, second only behind Erik and at times a support for him when Erik had been … Erik.
He didn’t want to have to do what his gut was telling him needed to be done, but if Charles had learned anything from tangling with En Sabah Nur; if he’d learned nothing else from Raven, Hank and Erik … he’d learned that he couldn’t just bury his head in the sand and hope for the best. Hope was important, hope was vital but it could be just as destructive when not balanced with the resolve to do what needed to be done, when innocent lives were on the line.
Though he had now been awake for almost two days straight, a fact that might be noticeable to anyone who knew him well, the professor was sharply dressed (three piece suit and all) and looked resolute from behind his desk. He had been busy, from well before dawn and up to this point.
He had shifted pieces all across the chessboard and while he did not delude himself in to believing that Tony was even in check, Charles knew the next moves would require aid from the imPort community as a whole. ]
Good morning.
It is with great regret and sincere apology, we must announce to the world that an internal investigation has revealed that the StarkTech “4” application is an abomination and an expression of the weakness and failure of its creator; Mr. Anthony Edward Stark.
[ Peter Parker is standing behind Charles and to the right, leaning slightly on the desk to keep himself in frame. Where Charles is dressed to the nines, Peter looks like he’s come straight from the lab--rolled-up sleeves, goggle hair and all. He sways forward as though he’s about to cut in, then just as visibly bites it back before he waves Charles to continue. ]
( Non IC cut in which it comes to light that Tony Stark is an ass. An even bigger ass than usual )
thegriffinofdeath[Ana has been mostly avoiding the network since her loss of the ambassadorial elections, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of relief. She wasn't sure she wanted to be in charge of anything, really. Still, dwelling on the election had made her think of home, her real position, with her people...and her family. Which was why this evening network post happened.]
[There might have been a glass or two of wine involved, too, if she was being honest.]
Hi. [She started, then hesitated, collecting her thoughts.]
I know that most all of us have left loved ones behind when we brought here. Friends, families...lovers. But...
[Another beat and a small breath.]
Is anyone else married? It's so strange. I've spent...mm. Longer than I'd like to admit with Vein. Good times and awful times but always...there.
I've been here nearly a year, now. A year without him or my daughter and...
[Where was she going with this? Another pause.]
Mm. I suppose I just need a distraction.
Tell me about your families. If anyone would like to, at least. Here or...there.
[There might have been a glass or two of wine involved, too, if she was being honest.]
Hi. [She started, then hesitated, collecting her thoughts.]
I know that most all of us have left loved ones behind when we brought here. Friends, families...lovers. But...
[Another beat and a small breath.]
Is anyone else married? It's so strange. I've spent...mm. Longer than I'd like to admit with Vein. Good times and awful times but always...there.
I've been here nearly a year, now. A year without him or my daughter and...
[Where was she going with this? Another pause.]
Mm. I suppose I just need a distraction.
Tell me about your families. If anyone would like to, at least. Here or...there.
014 ♍ VIDEO
Jul. 26th, 2016 01:25 amglowsferatu[ Kanaya is sitting at her desk, with Ashiah laying down on it in front of her. The little grub keeps glancing around in various directions, while her mother's gaze and smile is fixed on the camera. ]
I've been thinking recently about the cross-section of the imPort community who aren't human, perhaps most particularly since the ambassador elections last month. There are a sizable amount of us, not a large group, but significant. I've spoken with many of you on individual terms, and while the resources Governor Kang and SELF have provided to those of us with more unique needs have been invaluable, I feel there is still something missing in our collective socialization. We live the imPort experience in a way that many others won't fully appreciate, and I think we could benefit from sharing those experiences with each other.
[ At this point, Ashiah tries to wander off camera, but Kanaya suppresses a giggle as she puts a hand on top of her and scoots her back into place. ]
I'm unsure exactly what form that would take, but putting us all in a room to share our stories would be at least a start. If anyone is interested, please let me know, and I'll see about renting some space. Of course, if you have any special dietary needs, in terms of snacks, I would like to hear those as well.
This is generally something I'd prefer to save until we're in person, but... [ She's interrupted as Ashiah turns around and nuzzles into her chest, then tries to climb up her shoulder. Kanaya stops and laughs to herself, then plucks her off and cradles her, despite all her fidgeting. ] Anyway, for those of you who I haven't had the pleasure with yet, my name is Kanaya Maryam, and this is my daughter, Ashiah. I'm an Alternian troll, specifically an awakened jadeblood, which basically means I'm a vampire. She's a Daughter Grub from the same planet. [ She raises a finger, shaking her head. ] And before you ask, no, she isn't a troll, and she won't grow up to be one, either. Once she finally pupates, she'll become a Mother Grub. They acted as gestational surrogates for trolls, while the jadeblooded caste were their caretakers and midwives. It's all a bit complicated, this is just a general summary.
So, hopefully we'll be able to put something together moving forward, and I'll be able to hear all of your stories, as well. I'll be looking forward to hearing from each of you.
I've been thinking recently about the cross-section of the imPort community who aren't human, perhaps most particularly since the ambassador elections last month. There are a sizable amount of us, not a large group, but significant. I've spoken with many of you on individual terms, and while the resources Governor Kang and SELF have provided to those of us with more unique needs have been invaluable, I feel there is still something missing in our collective socialization. We live the imPort experience in a way that many others won't fully appreciate, and I think we could benefit from sharing those experiences with each other.
[ At this point, Ashiah tries to wander off camera, but Kanaya suppresses a giggle as she puts a hand on top of her and scoots her back into place. ]
I'm unsure exactly what form that would take, but putting us all in a room to share our stories would be at least a start. If anyone is interested, please let me know, and I'll see about renting some space. Of course, if you have any special dietary needs, in terms of snacks, I would like to hear those as well.
This is generally something I'd prefer to save until we're in person, but... [ She's interrupted as Ashiah turns around and nuzzles into her chest, then tries to climb up her shoulder. Kanaya stops and laughs to herself, then plucks her off and cradles her, despite all her fidgeting. ] Anyway, for those of you who I haven't had the pleasure with yet, my name is Kanaya Maryam, and this is my daughter, Ashiah. I'm an Alternian troll, specifically an awakened jadeblood, which basically means I'm a vampire. She's a Daughter Grub from the same planet. [ She raises a finger, shaking her head. ] And before you ask, no, she isn't a troll, and she won't grow up to be one, either. Once she finally pupates, she'll become a Mother Grub. They acted as gestational surrogates for trolls, while the jadeblooded caste were their caretakers and midwives. It's all a bit complicated, this is just a general summary.
So, hopefully we'll be able to put something together moving forward, and I'll be able to hear all of your stories, as well. I'll be looking forward to hearing from each of you.
JULY 20TH, 2016
Jul. 20th, 2016 05:43 pmmaskormods
BAIL-FUL COUNTENANCE
As seen on local television network:
In the wake of the strange disappearances back in June, the Maurtia Falls Police Department has issued a brief statement claiming that they believe that last month's bailjumpers have indeed been kidnapped and murdered, given evidence collected at crime scenes discovered in the city earlier this month. However, no more criminals who have posted bail have vanished, and although the Maurtia Falls department have yet to find the criminal responsible, they are optimistic that the crime spree, if that was indeed what it was, is over.
That said, reported disappearances in the city have climbed to an all time high this month, although this, a Member of the Court of Drunk Statisticians remarked for the Fall News, is no surprise: "People get jumpy when their loved one goes missing in a situation like this, hic. They might pay more attention to long absences when, hic, they might otherwise have not given half a s#&t about it before."
The accompanying news article seems to back up his claim. Local loan shark Joe "Fingerbreaker" Hammer disappeared on the 12th of June, and two days later was reported at missing, only to be rediscovered by his overwrought ex-wife. "He got drunk and fell asleep in the back of his limo, and ended up in Vegas. He didn't bother to call me back even though I left thirty-seven messages on his phone. He's a douchebag, I wish he was missing."
GOSHDARN KIDS
As seen on the national nightly news:
In related news, a seventeen-year-old boy who reported his parents and younger sister missing on the 7th, the day after his birthday, whom was later discovered to have killed them all, concealing their bodies by throwing them into the cesspit under their house. He has been remanded into custody and charged with three counts of murder.
IMPOTENT PROTECTION ALERT
As seen on international news stations:
Scattered reports from Moscow indicate that the USSR will be staging mass "duck and cover" demonstrations for children ages sixteen and under, in the event of uncontrolled imPort violence committed against the people of the USSR. ImPorts are depicted as extremely aggressive and heartlessly lethal foes, an argument popularized by boogeyman-like propaganda posters featuring the more infamous imPorts (notably Jonathan Crane and Lucifer). These posters flood public areas such as schools.
HONOR CODE
As seen in the Page 6 ads in all newspapers local to imPort cities:
82 101 109 101 109 98 101 114 32 117 115 63 32 87 101 32 104 97 118 101 32 98 101 101 110 32 119 97 116 99 104 105 110 103 46 32 69 110 106 111 121 32 116 104 101 32 115 104 97 107 101 45 117 112 46
THE CAT AND THE CHUMP
As seen featured on Shitebartnews.com:
Ronald Chump fires back at imPort Kitty Jones when asked about her in an interview --
"Who?" Replied Chump, apparently unaware of the name. Shortly followed by: "You mean that miserable anarchist? Whatever."
More undoubtedly to follow.
SHARE THE CARE
As seen on national news:
WeCare, a non-profit charity promoter, would like to celebrate imPort-created charities and foundations this July. If you are a n imPort who has founded either of the above criteria, then contact WeCare at WeCare.org with your information. Everyone who submits a legitimate application will individually receive a 14k plated gold medal of recognition on July 30th! Representatives from WeCare will meet you at your home or business to present your medal and offer a brief interview of your accomplishments and passions.
NOTHING BUT A HUND DOG
As seen on the morning show "Cox & Friends":
Rumors are already swirling about the Senate race heating up in Virginia. Former imPort Ambassador Mitchell Hundred is in the thick of he-said-she-said talk about his bedroom preferences and habits. Most pundits dismiss all this to be nothing more than a whisper smear campaign against the imPort in his bid to unseat a senator.
CODE SWITCH
The Homeland Security Advisory System has moved from FIREWORK RED to SHATTERING BROWN because of the rampant earthquake monsters running amok.
WANT TO SUBMIT TO THE MAJORITY REPORT?
The Majority Report comes out the 10th and 20th of every month. You may find details and submit here. The cut-off time is 12:01 AM PST on the 9th and the 19th for the corresponding dates.
[Video] TW: Violence
Jun. 16th, 2016 08:37 pmthegriffinofdeath[Anastasya's just outside of her workplace, Tesladyne Industries, when she turns on her communicator. She looks much the same as her last post, though her attitude is perhaps a bit more formal, her gaze a bit more intense. She sets the communicator down on a little stand she had brought out. There's even a small crowd gathered around the base of the steps, mostly reporters from De Chima and Heropa, where the building is located.]
Hello everyone. As I'm sure you've all noticed by now, a number of our import friends and family have been behaving...strangely...for the last few days. It's difficult to even describe, really, as if they're themselves but...not. And this hardly the first time this sort of thing has happened, really. Almostly routinely we're subject to strange and otherwise inexplicable phenomenon. Being turned into children strikes as one of the more...obvious of the changes.
And we seem to just be expected to...live with it. [She frowns.] This is the norm we are find ourselves trapped beneath. But it can't stay that way, yes? We have to be able to prevent these...events.
[She turns so the camera can see the building and logo behind her.]
It's one of the reasons I began working here. This is Tesladyne Industries, it was created by a friend of mine, a...robot? I believe is the word. His research, our research, was initially into simply finding a way home. Which he seemed to have managed, since he vanished months ago. But lately I've been thinking more about, not so much leaving, as ensuring that our stay here is less traumatic then we all seemed to be resigned to. It's one of the reasons I've beginning for ambassador, also. To make things...easier. For all of us.
Other imports work here as well, and in other companies, doing much the same thing. Though we all claim to have different long-term purp-
[Ana is turning back to the camera as she speaks when there's an almost sub-audible crack, followed by a violent bang somewhere distantly behind the camera, and there's a brief second of shock before her small frame is lifted half a foot off the ground as a bullet catches her just below her collarbone and whirls her around and onto the ground, the sudden shift sending the communicator bouncing off it's perch. It hits the ground with a clatter, facing away from the building and catch the crowd as the reporters and onlookers scatter in a wave of panic and shouting, everyone ducking or just taking off down the street.]
[On one of the buildings across the street, a shadowed figure some might recognize as Bucky Barnes was hauling a rifle up off a stand before disappearing into the recesses of the building.]
[As the sound starts to subside, there's a faint, pain-filled moan from the woman herself, then the rush off footsteps and a male voice which some might recognize as Duncan.]
Fuck, get her inside! And someone call the fucking police! Did anyone see where-
[And a hand comes down to grab up her communicator, shutting off the feed.]
[Ooc: Responses from Anastasya will not come until late into the evening, nearly midnight. Duncan may respond to people also.]
Hello everyone. As I'm sure you've all noticed by now, a number of our import friends and family have been behaving...strangely...for the last few days. It's difficult to even describe, really, as if they're themselves but...not. And this hardly the first time this sort of thing has happened, really. Almostly routinely we're subject to strange and otherwise inexplicable phenomenon. Being turned into children strikes as one of the more...obvious of the changes.
And we seem to just be expected to...live with it. [She frowns.] This is the norm we are find ourselves trapped beneath. But it can't stay that way, yes? We have to be able to prevent these...events.
[She turns so the camera can see the building and logo behind her.]
It's one of the reasons I began working here. This is Tesladyne Industries, it was created by a friend of mine, a...robot? I believe is the word. His research, our research, was initially into simply finding a way home. Which he seemed to have managed, since he vanished months ago. But lately I've been thinking more about, not so much leaving, as ensuring that our stay here is less traumatic then we all seemed to be resigned to. It's one of the reasons I've beginning for ambassador, also. To make things...easier. For all of us.
Other imports work here as well, and in other companies, doing much the same thing. Though we all claim to have different long-term purp-
[Ana is turning back to the camera as she speaks when there's an almost sub-audible crack, followed by a violent bang somewhere distantly behind the camera, and there's a brief second of shock before her small frame is lifted half a foot off the ground as a bullet catches her just below her collarbone and whirls her around and onto the ground, the sudden shift sending the communicator bouncing off it's perch. It hits the ground with a clatter, facing away from the building and catch the crowd as the reporters and onlookers scatter in a wave of panic and shouting, everyone ducking or just taking off down the street.]
[On one of the buildings across the street, a shadowed figure some might recognize as Bucky Barnes was hauling a rifle up off a stand before disappearing into the recesses of the building.]
[As the sound starts to subside, there's a faint, pain-filled moan from the woman herself, then the rush off footsteps and a male voice which some might recognize as Duncan.]
Fuck, get her inside! And someone call the fucking police! Did anyone see where-
[And a hand comes down to grab up her communicator, shutting off the feed.]
[Ooc: Responses from Anastasya will not come until late into the evening, nearly midnight. Duncan may respond to people also.]
thegriffinofdeath[Anastasya is sitting on a park bench somewhere when she turns on her communicator, seemingly enjoying the afternoon sun, dressed in a long, black skirt and a dark green blouse. She offers the screen a small smile.]
Hello everyone. For those of you that I haven't met, and honestly that's quite a few of you, my name is Anastasya Griffin. Like many of you, I've tried to keep to myself since I was kidnapped to this world. I was content, I suppose, to try and...wait it out, until the machine would return me home as it seemed to do to others. Because it was bound to happen eventually, right?
[She hesitates, seemingly trying to choose her words carefully.]
But recent events have made it very clear that we can't simply remain complacent, trying to live our lives, not when the rest of the world considers us oddities at best, and dangerous weapons at worst. Even here in the United States, you're just as likely to receive looks of suspicion and fear as you are of wonder and amazement. It's not a situation we can simply allow to continue, not if there's something we can do about it.
And as my friend Count Dooku has impressed upon me recently, those of us who already have the skills necessary to try and help...raise the perception people have of imports, if you will...have something of an obligation to do so.
[Another small pause, and she seems to straighten up some without really moving. As if she's settling into a mantle she had put aside for a while. A slightly strange look, perhaps, on someone that appears to be as young as she does.]
Which is why I would like to announce my candidacy for Import Ambassador to the city of De Chima.
( Cut for Ana telling a story. )
So, as much as I might prefer to still keep to my new private life, I cannot justify doing so if it is at the expense of what good I could do here for our community.
As for the, what, specifics? I don't want to get too deeply into policy right now, but I will say that the De Chima Import Community Centre has reverted to government hands with the departure of the previous ambassador. One of my first actions would be to attempt to return this to import possession. Not that I don't trust our benefactors, but some things should remain...in house.
I would hope that you all are willing to elect me as your ambassador. [A beat, and she lets out a little breath of relief and smiles again.] I think I'm done! Thank you all for your time. I think I'm a little out of practice with all of this...public speaking.
[She chuckles quietly.]
Oh, and if anyone has any questions please, feel free to ask.
Hello everyone. For those of you that I haven't met, and honestly that's quite a few of you, my name is Anastasya Griffin. Like many of you, I've tried to keep to myself since I was kidnapped to this world. I was content, I suppose, to try and...wait it out, until the machine would return me home as it seemed to do to others. Because it was bound to happen eventually, right?
[She hesitates, seemingly trying to choose her words carefully.]
But recent events have made it very clear that we can't simply remain complacent, trying to live our lives, not when the rest of the world considers us oddities at best, and dangerous weapons at worst. Even here in the United States, you're just as likely to receive looks of suspicion and fear as you are of wonder and amazement. It's not a situation we can simply allow to continue, not if there's something we can do about it.
And as my friend Count Dooku has impressed upon me recently, those of us who already have the skills necessary to try and help...raise the perception people have of imports, if you will...have something of an obligation to do so.
[Another small pause, and she seems to straighten up some without really moving. As if she's settling into a mantle she had put aside for a while. A slightly strange look, perhaps, on someone that appears to be as young as she does.]
Which is why I would like to announce my candidacy for Import Ambassador to the city of De Chima.
( Cut for Ana telling a story. )
So, as much as I might prefer to still keep to my new private life, I cannot justify doing so if it is at the expense of what good I could do here for our community.
As for the, what, specifics? I don't want to get too deeply into policy right now, but I will say that the De Chima Import Community Centre has reverted to government hands with the departure of the previous ambassador. One of my first actions would be to attempt to return this to import possession. Not that I don't trust our benefactors, but some things should remain...in house.
I would hope that you all are willing to elect me as your ambassador. [A beat, and she lets out a little breath of relief and smiles again.] I think I'm done! Thank you all for your time. I think I'm a little out of practice with all of this...public speaking.
[She chuckles quietly.]
Oh, and if anyone has any questions please, feel free to ask.
bindsthedead[When the camera turns on, Sabriel's slumped in a chair at her home, looking dirty, disheveled, and utterly exhausted. Her skin is deathly white, and dark shadows are visible under her eyes. Back in her world she'd pushed through it because she had to, because stopping would mean her death. Now, it's harder to hold off the exhaustion and the grief- she's holding herself together through willpower and not much else.]
Everyone and everything has a time to die. [Sabriel seems to be half-reciting, half thinking aloud. Sabriel pauses, and finds herself struggling to speak, because suddenly her throat feels very dry.]
My father is dead. I'm Abhorsen. [She can feel her throat tighten, but she keeps talking. She has to keep her mind off her exhaustion and her grief for a little bit longer.
She's tired, and sad, and she just wants to sleep.]
Major-General, I'm sorry, but I'll need a leave of absence for a few days.
[And then, with a final sigh, Sabriel leans forward and turns off the feed.]
Everyone and everything has a time to die. [Sabriel seems to be half-reciting, half thinking aloud. Sabriel pauses, and finds herself struggling to speak, because suddenly her throat feels very dry.]
My father is dead. I'm Abhorsen. [She can feel her throat tighten, but she keeps talking. She has to keep her mind off her exhaustion and her grief for a little bit longer.
She's tired, and sad, and she just wants to sleep.]
Major-General, I'm sorry, but I'll need a leave of absence for a few days.
[And then, with a final sigh, Sabriel leans forward and turns off the feed.]
✥ [Text] ✥
Mar. 21st, 2016 09:15 pmherstarlightNo matter how close I stay to the forests of this world, I cannot escape how woefully inept I am when it comes to technology. Most of what exists in my "house" is unknown to me, yet I take it the objects are placed there for my...comfort?
I do not need to sleep and I can go quite some time without food. I fear most of the "comforts" are lost on me. Still, I should like to know how they work.
If anyone is willing to assist, I would be grateful.
I do not need to sleep and I can go quite some time without food. I fear most of the "comforts" are lost on me. Still, I should like to know how they work.
If anyone is willing to assist, I would be grateful.
inchesofevil[the video feed clicks on to Duncan setting up the camera. He pulls away, hands held up tentatively while he waits to make sure everything's working how it should and nothing's going to fall over. The setting behind him is obviously a science lab, and the camera is centered on a pair of double-sided portable whiteboards in front of the counter lining the wall, with a stool sitting somewhere off-center in between them.
Satisfied with the recording setup, Duncan turns around and walks up to the whiteboards, which are both covered in chicken scratch notes and hastily drawn science diagrams. If you can actually read his shitty handwriting, it's a lot of half-formed ideas about nanotech and genetics, and some of it is...concerning. like mad science concerning.
He pauses, staring at the board on the right, which is the one with all the potential mad science on it while the one on the left is mostly just note-taking and calculations. he scrutinizes it for a moment, absently biting his thumbnail, like he's looking for some kind of answer in what he's written there.
it's worth noting that he looks like hell. button-down collared shirt wrinkled in the manner of having been worn for a couple days straight, and he hasn't shaved since whenever he put that shirt on either. he looks exhausted but wired. manic, even, as he looks back toward the camera as if suddenly remembering that it's there. he turns to face it completely.]
So.
So, nanomachines, right.
Fuckin'. Fuckin' nanomachines. Nanites. Nano...tech. All that bullshit.
[he is definitely exhausted enough for his accent to be slipping. he's still trying to maintain the neutral American, but his Texas is showing through, and what he winds up with is an inconsistent mess of an amalgamation of the two.]
You know what I know 'bout fuckin' nanomachines? Fuckin'. NOTHIN'. [he smacks a hand against the whiteboard's frame and then is distracted for a second while he straightens it back out.] Nothing. But! I am also a goddamn grad student, so if there's one thing I know how to do, it's motherfucking research.
So. So nanomachines, alright, nanotech 101, tiny-ass fuckin' machines that can do all kinds of cool shit. They call 'em nanites here, but it's the same shit, it's all nanotech. And their nanotech progress would be fuckin' incredible if they used them for, you know, curin' cancer or what the fuck ever, but no! No, instead they just shove 'em into ImPorts for government surveillance bullshit. They can use that shit to bring us back from the dead but they can't be fucking bothered to--
[okay, no, deep breath. he holds his hands up like a signal to halt--to, uh, himself? inhale, exhale, lowers his hands, starts over.] Anyway. The government's use of nanomachines on us is irresponsible as fuck, and fuck you if you disagree.
And, uh, the government's hiring ImPorts right now to improve on their nanotech, so it can't get hacked by Russia again I guess.
But you know what'd work better?
Fucking not pumping us full of goddamn nanites in the first place.
So--so! With that in mind! [he snatches up a dry erase marker and flips the board over to its reverse side, which is...well, it's equally full of concerningly mad-sciency shit, but he swipes his sleeve across a big arc of it, clearing off a space. he decisively uncaps the pen and then...doesn't...write anything, instead standing poised with it as if he's going to start in a second here.] I say we put our collective science brains together and figure out how to fix this fuckin' nanite problem our own damn selves.
Like. Like would an EMP take them out? Not optimal for the robots, probably. Or we could, uhh, make our own nanites to combat the originals and take them out. Corrosive anti-nanite chemo mix? Find their resonance frequency? Lasers? Fucking. Science is all about lasers, we can probably solve this with lasers somehow.
Or. [facing the camera again, turning away from the whiteboard. no, he still hasn't written anything down yet.] Or we could engineer fake antibodies to bind to them. Or uhh genetically alter a virus--HIV, right? Perfect. Turn HIV onto the nanites instead of T-cells and let that dismantle 'em exponentially.
Or, um. I don't know, draining all your blood would probably work. I mean, you'd have to be willing to die a little, but I can resurrect people so don't worry about that. Honestly, that's probably the simplest answer.
[that sounds like maybe it should be a joke, but he definitely sounds and looks as serious about it as he did about every other suggestion he threw out. he hasn't slept in three days, his mad science meter is through the roof right now.]
Satisfied with the recording setup, Duncan turns around and walks up to the whiteboards, which are both covered in chicken scratch notes and hastily drawn science diagrams. If you can actually read his shitty handwriting, it's a lot of half-formed ideas about nanotech and genetics, and some of it is...concerning. like mad science concerning.
He pauses, staring at the board on the right, which is the one with all the potential mad science on it while the one on the left is mostly just note-taking and calculations. he scrutinizes it for a moment, absently biting his thumbnail, like he's looking for some kind of answer in what he's written there.
it's worth noting that he looks like hell. button-down collared shirt wrinkled in the manner of having been worn for a couple days straight, and he hasn't shaved since whenever he put that shirt on either. he looks exhausted but wired. manic, even, as he looks back toward the camera as if suddenly remembering that it's there. he turns to face it completely.]
So.
So, nanomachines, right.
Fuckin'. Fuckin' nanomachines. Nanites. Nano...tech. All that bullshit.
[he is definitely exhausted enough for his accent to be slipping. he's still trying to maintain the neutral American, but his Texas is showing through, and what he winds up with is an inconsistent mess of an amalgamation of the two.]
You know what I know 'bout fuckin' nanomachines? Fuckin'. NOTHIN'. [he smacks a hand against the whiteboard's frame and then is distracted for a second while he straightens it back out.] Nothing. But! I am also a goddamn grad student, so if there's one thing I know how to do, it's motherfucking research.
So. So nanomachines, alright, nanotech 101, tiny-ass fuckin' machines that can do all kinds of cool shit. They call 'em nanites here, but it's the same shit, it's all nanotech. And their nanotech progress would be fuckin' incredible if they used them for, you know, curin' cancer or what the fuck ever, but no! No, instead they just shove 'em into ImPorts for government surveillance bullshit. They can use that shit to bring us back from the dead but they can't be fucking bothered to--
[okay, no, deep breath. he holds his hands up like a signal to halt--to, uh, himself? inhale, exhale, lowers his hands, starts over.] Anyway. The government's use of nanomachines on us is irresponsible as fuck, and fuck you if you disagree.
And, uh, the government's hiring ImPorts right now to improve on their nanotech, so it can't get hacked by Russia again I guess.
But you know what'd work better?
Fucking not pumping us full of goddamn nanites in the first place.
So--so! With that in mind! [he snatches up a dry erase marker and flips the board over to its reverse side, which is...well, it's equally full of concerningly mad-sciency shit, but he swipes his sleeve across a big arc of it, clearing off a space. he decisively uncaps the pen and then...doesn't...write anything, instead standing poised with it as if he's going to start in a second here.] I say we put our collective science brains together and figure out how to fix this fuckin' nanite problem our own damn selves.
Like. Like would an EMP take them out? Not optimal for the robots, probably. Or we could, uhh, make our own nanites to combat the originals and take them out. Corrosive anti-nanite chemo mix? Find their resonance frequency? Lasers? Fucking. Science is all about lasers, we can probably solve this with lasers somehow.
Or. [facing the camera again, turning away from the whiteboard. no, he still hasn't written anything down yet.] Or we could engineer fake antibodies to bind to them. Or uhh genetically alter a virus--HIV, right? Perfect. Turn HIV onto the nanites instead of T-cells and let that dismantle 'em exponentially.
Or, um. I don't know, draining all your blood would probably work. I mean, you'd have to be willing to die a little, but I can resurrect people so don't worry about that. Honestly, that's probably the simplest answer.
[that sounds like maybe it should be a joke, but he definitely sounds and looks as serious about it as he did about every other suggestion he threw out. he hasn't slept in three days, his mad science meter is through the roof right now.]
bindsthedead[Sabriel's standing in front of her desk at RISE headquarters, wearing her hauberk and surcoat. Her tone is clear and confident, and she holds herself still as she speaks.]
For those of you who may be new- greetings! my name is Sabriel, and I'm a member of RISE. We're a group of imPorts sanctioned by the government to both apprehend imPorts who choose to threaten the natives of this world or their fellow imPorts, and bring them to trial, under the leadership of Major General Armstrong. Some of our other duties involve acting as security at swear-ins, and acting to protect both imPorts and natives from other threats the police can't deal with- groups like the Cain Cabal for example.
We're seeking new members- both those skilled in combat to act as field agents, and those whose skills are less martially inclined- investigators and lawyers to both gather evidence and prosecute cases- any imPorts captured by RISE will be judged by a tribunal of their fellow imPorts, although we cannot pass down any sentence harsher than what the government allows. [Frustration slips over Sabriel's face as she says this.]
Unfortunately, due to certain... restrictions imposed by our hosts, field agents must be registered, and applicants are required to pass both a physical and psychological evaluation.
Let me stress- if you want to help protect people, and you're willing to work as part of a team, RISE can provide you with the resources to do so. And even if your skills do not incline towards the physical, there's still a need for them. Bringing imPort criminals to justice takes more than just arresting them.
If you have any further questions, don't be afraid to ask. Or you can contact Major General Armstrong, if you'd prefer.
Later, on the Mirrornet
[Sabriel's no longer at RISE HQ- instead, she's sitting on a chair in her home in Nonah. She's quieter than she was in her earlier post, and her expression is thoughtful.]
I understand why people chose to protest at the ceremony- imPorts should let the government know how we feel about their policies. But I wanted to know how government officials felt, and I had hoped to gain information about what happened to former Secretary Chases, and find officials who might lend a sympathetic ear to imPorts. [Sabriel sighs.]
Instead I learned something else. I received several contradicting answers regarding Chases whereabouts- various officials claimed she was sent to Belize, to the 'Federal Correctional Institute', or possibly the Cayman Islands- that particular official also claimed that the Soviets were engaged in money laundering, or possibly unethical experimentation, in the vicinity. I'm not sure if any of the information is valid, and it's... disturbing that a government official could just vanish.
My attempts at finding sympathetic officials who could help imPorts also failed. People were angry and frightened by the Soviet invasion, and they don't want to be accused of spying. Some of them have said that they feel like they can't trust anyone. [Sabriel frowns, and drums her fingers against the chair.]
We have a problem that's messier than America destroying one city in retaliation for the invasion. This fear, this paranoia about spies and being accused of spying, people vanishing... I'm not an expert in this world's history, but it seems disturbingly similar to the situation in 1984, right before the first imPorts arrived.
I'm not sure what we should do, but I suspect it'll be more complicated than simply protesting a bombing done in our name.
For those of you who may be new- greetings! my name is Sabriel, and I'm a member of RISE. We're a group of imPorts sanctioned by the government to both apprehend imPorts who choose to threaten the natives of this world or their fellow imPorts, and bring them to trial, under the leadership of Major General Armstrong. Some of our other duties involve acting as security at swear-ins, and acting to protect both imPorts and natives from other threats the police can't deal with- groups like the Cain Cabal for example.
We're seeking new members- both those skilled in combat to act as field agents, and those whose skills are less martially inclined- investigators and lawyers to both gather evidence and prosecute cases- any imPorts captured by RISE will be judged by a tribunal of their fellow imPorts, although we cannot pass down any sentence harsher than what the government allows. [Frustration slips over Sabriel's face as she says this.]
Unfortunately, due to certain... restrictions imposed by our hosts, field agents must be registered, and applicants are required to pass both a physical and psychological evaluation.
Let me stress- if you want to help protect people, and you're willing to work as part of a team, RISE can provide you with the resources to do so. And even if your skills do not incline towards the physical, there's still a need for them. Bringing imPort criminals to justice takes more than just arresting them.
If you have any further questions, don't be afraid to ask. Or you can contact Major General Armstrong, if you'd prefer.
Later, on the Mirrornet
[Sabriel's no longer at RISE HQ- instead, she's sitting on a chair in her home in Nonah. She's quieter than she was in her earlier post, and her expression is thoughtful.]
I understand why people chose to protest at the ceremony- imPorts should let the government know how we feel about their policies. But I wanted to know how government officials felt, and I had hoped to gain information about what happened to former Secretary Chases, and find officials who might lend a sympathetic ear to imPorts. [Sabriel sighs.]
Instead I learned something else. I received several contradicting answers regarding Chases whereabouts- various officials claimed she was sent to Belize, to the 'Federal Correctional Institute', or possibly the Cayman Islands- that particular official also claimed that the Soviets were engaged in money laundering, or possibly unethical experimentation, in the vicinity. I'm not sure if any of the information is valid, and it's... disturbing that a government official could just vanish.
My attempts at finding sympathetic officials who could help imPorts also failed. People were angry and frightened by the Soviet invasion, and they don't want to be accused of spying. Some of them have said that they feel like they can't trust anyone. [Sabriel frowns, and drums her fingers against the chair.]
We have a problem that's messier than America destroying one city in retaliation for the invasion. This fear, this paranoia about spies and being accused of spying, people vanishing... I'm not an expert in this world's history, but it seems disturbingly similar to the situation in 1984, right before the first imPorts arrived.
I'm not sure what we should do, but I suspect it'll be more complicated than simply protesting a bombing done in our name.
wizzardly[The first thing to come over the feed will be a too-close shot of a handmade sign before the wizard gets the right angle to show his face and the small park behind him in Nonah. He appears to be Unhappy.]
Right, okay, was I not legible enough, do you think? Should I have offered translations? I consider myself rather patient on the whole, but when some idiot - for the third time in two days - takes a clear warning and turns it into an invitation to create the sort of disaster which loses me my job, I get the feeling this blasted sign is doing more harm than good. So let's just make something clear, shall we?
This - [the video shifts for a moment to show a wooden trunk on legs, running full tilt behind him after a few terrified squirrels] - is not a pet! It is certainly not some sort of tame training dummy for empty-headed fighters to test their skills on. It is a monstrosity crafted of sapient pearwood, and when it feels its owner, who happens to be me, is being attacked, it eats people. No stern warnings, no shining letterheads or gentle taps on the shoulder, just death. Maybe missing fingers or a quick trampling, if they're lucky.
Am I making myself clear enough? Try to hurt me, this man right here, and my magical box will murder you, and I will watch.
[a pause.]
...Provided I have not already run away.
[Rincewind nods sharply, then takes off his sign and throws it in a trash can.]
There. I've officially done all I can do, I've said my piece, this is no longer my responsibility. [he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.] Honestly, I don't understand how it was so difficult to understand in the first place. You see a sign telling you not to do something - who then thinks 'Oh, well surely they don't mean that for me?' I swear, no matter where I find myself, it seems I'm always the only sane man arou -
[there's the loud crack of splintering wood and the sound of several screaming members of the rodent family. Rincewind (and the video) looks behind him to see that the Luggage has knocked down a large oak tree in its pursuit of the squirrels. His face drains of color.]
Oh bugger - !
Right, okay, was I not legible enough, do you think? Should I have offered translations? I consider myself rather patient on the whole, but when some idiot - for the third time in two days - takes a clear warning and turns it into an invitation to create the sort of disaster which loses me my job, I get the feeling this blasted sign is doing more harm than good. So let's just make something clear, shall we?
This - [the video shifts for a moment to show a wooden trunk on legs, running full tilt behind him after a few terrified squirrels] - is not a pet! It is certainly not some sort of tame training dummy for empty-headed fighters to test their skills on. It is a monstrosity crafted of sapient pearwood, and when it feels its owner, who happens to be me, is being attacked, it eats people. No stern warnings, no shining letterheads or gentle taps on the shoulder, just death. Maybe missing fingers or a quick trampling, if they're lucky.
Am I making myself clear enough? Try to hurt me, this man right here, and my magical box will murder you, and I will watch.
[a pause.]
...Provided I have not already run away.
[Rincewind nods sharply, then takes off his sign and throws it in a trash can.]
There. I've officially done all I can do, I've said my piece, this is no longer my responsibility. [he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.] Honestly, I don't understand how it was so difficult to understand in the first place. You see a sign telling you not to do something - who then thinks 'Oh, well surely they don't mean that for me?' I swear, no matter where I find myself, it seems I'm always the only sane man arou -
[there's the loud crack of splintering wood and the sound of several screaming members of the rodent family. Rincewind (and the video) looks behind him to see that the Luggage has knocked down a large oak tree in its pursuit of the squirrels. His face drains of color.]
Oh bugger - !
fourth helix ♥ VIDEO; MIRRORNET
Feb. 26th, 2016 02:22 amalcheregis[ Haen's smiling with a rather pleased look on the video today, even though the general air isn't something most people are smiling about lately. Which is why... ]
My dears, I just want to give you all a heads up! Although your heads can really be in any position you'd like, so long as you give me a little listen. I can't say I really enjoy these guests of ours, so I've decided to make them feel a bit more unwelcome. Not my usual attitude, I know, but I really think they're just overstepping a bit too much!
So don't be surprised if you see them feeling a just a touch under the weather starting any time now. I'm actually rather proud of the recipe I've put together! A little encephalitis, some single stranded ribonucleic acid, just a pinch of Yersinia pestis!
[ For those of you who are wondering why that sounds familiar: yes, she did just name the bacterial strain responsible for the bubonic plague, among others. ]
It really is a lot like cooking, actually. Too much salt spoils the soup... is it salt, that saying refers to? I mean, really too much of anything would spoil soup. Although I suppose soup might be easier to recover than, say, a cake or something.
Oh! And I also tweaked a bit for their melanocytes, so you'll be easily able to tell who's already infected, and that you should probably avoid them. They're going to have bright orange splotches on their skin, impossible to miss, really. Well, I suppose if you were blind, you might miss them... or colour-blind. Hmm, I didn't think of that. Well, for next time!
Now if you do happen to be an inattentive silly and catch this, I want you to drink lots of milk! It's good for bones, and it'll also work well for the symptoms. Has to do with the amount of thiamine-- oh, you might know that as vitamin B1. Anyway, drink lots of milk, it'll help you feel better. But please don't tell that to our guests, I'd rather them find out only once they've gone back home!
That's really all I wanted to let you all know about, dears.
---
((OOC: All the information for this can be found here, including a full list of symptoms and information on opting-in if you'd like your character to be affected! Happy plaguing~))
My dears, I just want to give you all a heads up! Although your heads can really be in any position you'd like, so long as you give me a little listen. I can't say I really enjoy these guests of ours, so I've decided to make them feel a bit more unwelcome. Not my usual attitude, I know, but I really think they're just overstepping a bit too much!
So don't be surprised if you see them feeling a just a touch under the weather starting any time now. I'm actually rather proud of the recipe I've put together! A little encephalitis, some single stranded ribonucleic acid, just a pinch of Yersinia pestis!
[ For those of you who are wondering why that sounds familiar: yes, she did just name the bacterial strain responsible for the bubonic plague, among others. ]
It really is a lot like cooking, actually. Too much salt spoils the soup... is it salt, that saying refers to? I mean, really too much of anything would spoil soup. Although I suppose soup might be easier to recover than, say, a cake or something.
Oh! And I also tweaked a bit for their melanocytes, so you'll be easily able to tell who's already infected, and that you should probably avoid them. They're going to have bright orange splotches on their skin, impossible to miss, really. Well, I suppose if you were blind, you might miss them... or colour-blind. Hmm, I didn't think of that. Well, for next time!
Now if you do happen to be an inattentive silly and catch this, I want you to drink lots of milk! It's good for bones, and it'll also work well for the symptoms. Has to do with the amount of thiamine-- oh, you might know that as vitamin B1. Anyway, drink lots of milk, it'll help you feel better. But please don't tell that to our guests, I'd rather them find out only once they've gone back home!
That's really all I wanted to let you all know about, dears.
---
((OOC: All the information for this can be found here, including a full list of symptoms and information on opting-in if you'd like your character to be affected! Happy plaguing~))
VIDEO | THE FIVE O' CLOCK NEWS
Feb. 15th, 2016 01:33 pmmmnpcs[A fan of the 5 o'clock news? Tuning into your favourite drama or sitcom? That's too bad, because the Soviets have something in mind. Abruptly, every single channel will go blank, only to be replaced with a single news channel. Some may recognize Tara Lynn Shaw, the All-American sweetheart from Channel 6 News with tastefully dyed red hair, dimples, and a big old smile. Her usual job is to reassure the American people that everything will be all right, from stories about rescued puppies to stories about heroic nurses going above and beyond the call of duty.
Her trademark dimples aren't on display today; her mood is distinctly somber, and the American flags in the background of her news station have been taken down, the backdrop replaced with a solid red. She stares into the camera, then looks down at the place cards in front of her.]
Good evening, citizens of America. This is the Soviet Union speaking. You have been left to run rampant for far too long, and we have seen great irresponsibility and suffering as a direct result of your actions. It is for these reasons that we have chosen to intervene.
We have established control over Nonah, Heropa, De Chima, and Maurtia Falls. You may not enter, nor may you leave, but you needn't worry. This is but the first step towards a more peaceful world. Provided you maintain the peace, no harm will come to you; you are instructed to simply continue going about your daily lives. You may find this change startling, but we assure you, you will feel used to it soon enough. If you do not maintain the peace, however, measures will be taken, measures that your previous government wholly failed to take.
ImPorts, you are to attend a 5-day Seminar at Cape Canaveral's Royal Mansions Resort beginning tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. This is not negotiable. You will not be harmed, but appropriate measures will be taken should you choose to be tardy or absent. The Porters will be available to you all, Registered or not; there are absolutely no excuses for your absence.
You will be weapons of the United States of America no longer.
[With that, the broadcast comes to a halt. No American news stations will be playing, but all non-topical entertainment will continue playing as normal.]
[OOC: While this post takes place on national television, please feel free to use this post to have your characters discuss this exciting new development!]
Her trademark dimples aren't on display today; her mood is distinctly somber, and the American flags in the background of her news station have been taken down, the backdrop replaced with a solid red. She stares into the camera, then looks down at the place cards in front of her.]
Good evening, citizens of America. This is the Soviet Union speaking. You have been left to run rampant for far too long, and we have seen great irresponsibility and suffering as a direct result of your actions. It is for these reasons that we have chosen to intervene.
We have established control over Nonah, Heropa, De Chima, and Maurtia Falls. You may not enter, nor may you leave, but you needn't worry. This is but the first step towards a more peaceful world. Provided you maintain the peace, no harm will come to you; you are instructed to simply continue going about your daily lives. You may find this change startling, but we assure you, you will feel used to it soon enough. If you do not maintain the peace, however, measures will be taken, measures that your previous government wholly failed to take.
ImPorts, you are to attend a 5-day Seminar at Cape Canaveral's Royal Mansions Resort beginning tomorrow at 10 AM sharp. This is not negotiable. You will not be harmed, but appropriate measures will be taken should you choose to be tardy or absent. The Porters will be available to you all, Registered or not; there are absolutely no excuses for your absence.
You will be weapons of the United States of America no longer.
[With that, the broadcast comes to a halt. No American news stations will be playing, but all non-topical entertainment will continue playing as normal.]
[OOC: While this post takes place on national television, please feel free to use this post to have your characters discuss this exciting new development!]