Rinzler / Tron (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
notglitching) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2017-05-19 05:51 am
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2017-05-19 05:51 am
Entry tags:
There's a memory of how we used to be
Who: Rinzler and YOU
When: Various dates through May
Where: Kauto, Chioni, your brain
What: Magic, dreamwalking, CR pileups, snow. A wide variety of shenanigans.
Warnings: Mindscrew references and violence ranging from "likely" to "guaranteed". Also, freaky dream shit, especially from Nihlus.
A. Powerswap I: In Your Dreams (May 9 or 12)
Rinzler has always hated to shut down. He doesn't like presenting weakness, especially in a world with as many hazards as this one. But even more disconcerting is the process of defragment: unfiltered memories, piecing together in patchwork echoes to make dreams. Especially when his own code punishes the recollection on waking.
Over the last cycle, things have changed, at least a little. The crackle of reprimand doesn't cut so deeply, and the rigid lock of automation no longer strips him of those thoughts. He can remember, just a little. Just enough. But one cycle of memory can't erase the weight of a thousand strangled by correction, and as conscious processing shuts down, Rinzler's default sentiment is one of dread. He doesn't want this. He hates it. He wishes he could get away.
He can.
One step. Another. He doesn't move, but he grows distant, grey silence dampens the cycling of memory and the minute self-corrections of his code. Rinzler reaches out and finds himself somewhere else. Somewhen? Whatever your experience, whatever your nightmares or sleeping fantasies, they'll find a new shape stepping into them, one who definitely doesn't belong.
[[ooc: Rinzler has Solas' powers, which include manipulating as well as entering dreams. That said, he also has no clue how to use them!]]
B. Powerswap II: ...And Beyond? (May 10-13)
Sleep isn't the only function misaligned. The lag hits not long after waking, a subtle downgrade of his strength and speed. More edits show themselves in quick (disastrous) succession. If the spate of users exercising new abilities are any sign, the error is widespread—so, one that might be expected to roll back. As far as Rinzler's concerned, it can't come soon enough. Clu can't fix him. His normal fuctions don't work. And even more problematic than the rest, he's not a user.
He isn't supposed to have powers.
Maybe you bump him in the hall. Maybe you step up behind the program a little too quickly. Maybe it's not even you. Rinzler is paranoid at the best of times, and between the virus and these edits, it's far too easy for far too many people to set him off. Is it a reflexive flare of barrier magic? A bolt of ice? Or a shower of flaming meteors? The possibilities are practically endless, and that's if he isn't trying.
C.GridGlowbugs! (May 16-22)
After the recent onslaughts of insanity, the mission posting on his TAB provides a strange (but welcome) sense of normalcy. Gridbugs. A threat he knows, a problem he can deal with. It's important, after all, to test that all his restored functions are up to par.
Rinzler doesn't even care (much) about his growing grudge against this system. He finds an ride on (top of) the EN-line train passing closest to the faults, and scans the transit route for damage, looking for the right place to jump off. Of course, that doesn't mean he's the only one heading toward the infestation. Or that a glowing, growling, armored shape might not be noticed, perched on top of your commute.
D. Subzero say what? (May 22+)
On reporting the cleanup, Rinzler comes across a couple misconceptions. First (and ridiculously), the savrii call the errors glowbugs. Second, the official he spoke to seems to believe the (grid)bugs source from Chioni. It's stupid. Ridiculous. Chioni is a user world, and the glitches are entirely digital in nature.
Still, that doesn't mean there might not be an infestation there as well.
The second partition of this system is one he hasn't explored so fully. The first two user-months, it had been overheating, and this month, the users guarding the transit lines try to turn him back for the opposite excuse. 'It's too cold'. He listens to their idiocy with a silent air of scorn, walks off, and makes his own preparations. He'll take anyone who wants to go.
The Moira's transporters seat up to six, though anyone looking to view their descent will need to stand behind the pilot's seat through a very turbulent ride. Clouds swirl below in a dark vortex, one Rinzler hesitates not at all in plunging into and right through. If one didn't know better, they might say he's enjoying the slaps of massive windforce that threaten to send them spiraling off-course, or the flurries of snow that choke viewscreens and weigh down the craft.
If one did know better? They would know that Rinzler does.
[[ooc: Prose or spam freely; I'll match! If you're after something different, you can wildcard or poke me at![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
notglitching to plot a thing out.]]
When: Various dates through May
Where: Kauto, Chioni, your brain
What: Magic, dreamwalking, CR pileups, snow. A wide variety of shenanigans.
Warnings: Mindscrew references and violence ranging from "likely" to "guaranteed". Also, freaky dream shit, especially from Nihlus.
A. Powerswap I: In Your Dreams (May 9 or 12)
Rinzler has always hated to shut down. He doesn't like presenting weakness, especially in a world with as many hazards as this one. But even more disconcerting is the process of defragment: unfiltered memories, piecing together in patchwork echoes to make dreams. Especially when his own code punishes the recollection on waking.
Over the last cycle, things have changed, at least a little. The crackle of reprimand doesn't cut so deeply, and the rigid lock of automation no longer strips him of those thoughts. He can remember, just a little. Just enough. But one cycle of memory can't erase the weight of a thousand strangled by correction, and as conscious processing shuts down, Rinzler's default sentiment is one of dread. He doesn't want this. He hates it. He wishes he could get away.
He can.
One step. Another. He doesn't move, but he grows distant, grey silence dampens the cycling of memory and the minute self-corrections of his code. Rinzler reaches out and finds himself somewhere else. Somewhen? Whatever your experience, whatever your nightmares or sleeping fantasies, they'll find a new shape stepping into them, one who definitely doesn't belong.
[[ooc: Rinzler has Solas' powers, which include manipulating as well as entering dreams. That said, he also has no clue how to use them!]]
B. Powerswap II: ...And Beyond? (May 10-13)
Sleep isn't the only function misaligned. The lag hits not long after waking, a subtle downgrade of his strength and speed. More edits show themselves in quick (disastrous) succession. If the spate of users exercising new abilities are any sign, the error is widespread—so, one that might be expected to roll back. As far as Rinzler's concerned, it can't come soon enough. Clu can't fix him. His normal fuctions don't work. And even more problematic than the rest, he's not a user.
He isn't supposed to have powers.
Maybe you bump him in the hall. Maybe you step up behind the program a little too quickly. Maybe it's not even you. Rinzler is paranoid at the best of times, and between the virus and these edits, it's far too easy for far too many people to set him off. Is it a reflexive flare of barrier magic? A bolt of ice? Or a shower of flaming meteors? The possibilities are practically endless, and that's if he isn't trying.
C.
After the recent onslaughts of insanity, the mission posting on his TAB provides a strange (but welcome) sense of normalcy. Gridbugs. A threat he knows, a problem he can deal with. It's important, after all, to test that all his restored functions are up to par.
Rinzler doesn't even care (much) about his growing grudge against this system. He finds an ride on (top of) the EN-line train passing closest to the faults, and scans the transit route for damage, looking for the right place to jump off. Of course, that doesn't mean he's the only one heading toward the infestation. Or that a glowing, growling, armored shape might not be noticed, perched on top of your commute.
D. Subzero say what? (May 22+)
On reporting the cleanup, Rinzler comes across a couple misconceptions. First (and ridiculously), the savrii call the errors glowbugs. Second, the official he spoke to seems to believe the (grid)bugs source from Chioni. It's stupid. Ridiculous. Chioni is a user world, and the glitches are entirely digital in nature.
Still, that doesn't mean there might not be an infestation there as well.
The second partition of this system is one he hasn't explored so fully. The first two user-months, it had been overheating, and this month, the users guarding the transit lines try to turn him back for the opposite excuse. 'It's too cold'. He listens to their idiocy with a silent air of scorn, walks off, and makes his own preparations. He'll take anyone who wants to go.
The Moira's transporters seat up to six, though anyone looking to view their descent will need to stand behind the pilot's seat through a very turbulent ride. Clouds swirl below in a dark vortex, one Rinzler hesitates not at all in plunging into and right through. If one didn't know better, they might say he's enjoying the slaps of massive windforce that threaten to send them spiraling off-course, or the flurries of snow that choke viewscreens and weigh down the craft.
If one did know better? They would know that Rinzler does.
[[ooc: Prose or spam freely; I'll match! If you're after something different, you can wildcard or poke me at
no subject
Why was she chasing him?
no subject
no subject
Good to know.
Rinzler reaches for his communicator, a half-visible blur that seems to alternate between TAB and MID. (He doesn't notice.) The display that pops up is more clearly defined, and produces text at a rate slightly faster than Rinzler appears to be typing.
No additional "reds" detected.
no subject
There's no time for Rinzler to respond to that, though, before there's a strange sound from somewhere below them. A squelching sound, overlaid with a voice groaning. Tex tenses. She doesn't know what to expect here, and she doesn't know what that sound is. And being out of armor, she's unhappy to be unprotected when the unknown is out there in the fog nearby.
no subject
The distant moans don't sound particularly threatening, but Texas tenses, and Rinzler's weapon hand clenches a little tighter around the blade. He doesn't type back in reply, just turns his mask, first to the source out in the fog, and then back toward Texas.
Friends of hers?
no subject
What comes out of the fog is flesh-colored and veiny, oddly shapeless, and doesn't have a mouth. The source of the squelching is obvious, but where had the groans come from?
"The fuck...?" Tex mutters.
She doesn't move any closer, but doesn't move away, tilting her head a little in studying the creature.