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_log2016-02-14 05:46 am
notglitching) wrote in thisavrou_log2016-02-14 05:46 am
Entry tags:
Define your meaning of fun
Who: Rinzler and OPEN
When: After the Moira leaves Emiri, before the events on the 16th
Where: Training Simulation Room, Moro #9, and In Your Ceiling
What: Shenanigans with a side of larcenous roommates
Warnings: Probable violence and a Rinzler, but nothing awful planned
A. Training Simulation Room (Open)
When Rinzler had heard of the training area, his initial response had been disinterest. Defeating phantoms served no purpose, and he wasn't some beta to need training on the very function he was made for. Still, as time stretched out without a proper fight, the need to move started to weigh higher. And if recent events had left him singularly unimpressed with the system's response protocols to a threat, it probably wasn't worth attacking more of his fellow imports. At least, not until he found a target worth deleting.
Still, as the program stood out in the hallway, orange-lit fingers moving quickly over the soft blue of the control console, the ironies were harder to escape. A system in front of him, written for combat. For Games. And here he was, outside, stuck fighting the data-shadows it produced. Rinzler should be in there. He wanted a real battle, not some user-tailored simulation. The enforcer took what satisfaction he could in overriding the safety settings, doubling the pre-loaded templates and setting threat difficulty up to maximum.
The door slid open with a soft chime, and Rinzler stepped into the center, reaching back for his joined disk. But as long seconds ticked by, nothing happened. No lights. No sounds but his own constant rumble. Then:
"Waiting for voice activation."
Noise skipped, mute rattle glitching louder as Rinzler's helmet turned to glower out the door. Those programs definitely needed wiping.
B. Pick your location, (nearly) any location (Open)
While it hadn't rated particularly highly as a threat, Rinzler almost regretted that the beta-user had been killed. Its attack had been an interesting diversion, and if it had gotten away in the end... well, even that had proven educational. The vent-space Chara had escaped through was too small for the enforcer to pursue, but further investigation found larger access paths concealed behind more casings on the walls. Worth securing. Worth mapping. And of course, there was only one way to manage that properly.
Anyone in the cargo bay, barracks, or other main living areas might start to hear some sounds. A scraping in the walls. A ticking rumble echoing through the ceiling. Rinzler moves quietly for the most part, but the navigational difficulties are many and new, and it's difficult to assess when the shape of the passages might carry sound to occupants below. If someone were to look into the ventilation at the right time, they might even see a dim red-orange glow peering back through the darkness. Not that Rinzler's watching you. Necessarily.
C. Moro #9 (Closed toNapoleon Nathaniel)
As much time as Rinzler spent traveling the halls (and air ducts) of the ship, his own room was an almost uncommon waypoint. There was no function to be served inside, and the enforcer slept as rarely as he could. For the most part, Rinzler used it as a storage unit. With barely a handful of items in his possession (and most of those pointless user clothes), he didn't take much space.
On the other hand, it didn't take much effort to notice when those items were disturbed. The first time he'd come back to find his things minutely shifted, Rinzler had offered a flat stare across the room, but no further commentary. Data gathering was a logical goal, and he didn't care enough about any of the objects to object to the intrusion. If the user laid a hand on his disk, it was losing the appendage, but it seemed intelligent enough to know where to stay clear.
At least, until he stopped by and found things missing from his stash. Not the uniforms or the discarded weapons, but the supply of resource tokens they'd been distributed as a reward. Useless on the ship, but necessary for supply exchange on user planets. Valuable.
This time, the stare lasts longer. It comes with a low, building growl.
[[ooc: will match prose or spam!]]
When: After the Moira leaves Emiri, before the events on the 16th
Where: Training Simulation Room, Moro #9, and In Your Ceiling
What: Shenanigans with a side of larcenous roommates
Warnings: Probable violence and a Rinzler, but nothing awful planned
A. Training Simulation Room (Open)
When Rinzler had heard of the training area, his initial response had been disinterest. Defeating phantoms served no purpose, and he wasn't some beta to need training on the very function he was made for. Still, as time stretched out without a proper fight, the need to move started to weigh higher. And if recent events had left him singularly unimpressed with the system's response protocols to a threat, it probably wasn't worth attacking more of his fellow imports. At least, not until he found a target worth deleting.
Still, as the program stood out in the hallway, orange-lit fingers moving quickly over the soft blue of the control console, the ironies were harder to escape. A system in front of him, written for combat. For Games. And here he was, outside, stuck fighting the data-shadows it produced. Rinzler should be in there. He wanted a real battle, not some user-tailored simulation. The enforcer took what satisfaction he could in overriding the safety settings, doubling the pre-loaded templates and setting threat difficulty up to maximum.
The door slid open with a soft chime, and Rinzler stepped into the center, reaching back for his joined disk. But as long seconds ticked by, nothing happened. No lights. No sounds but his own constant rumble. Then:
"Waiting for voice activation."
Noise skipped, mute rattle glitching louder as Rinzler's helmet turned to glower out the door. Those programs definitely needed wiping.
B. Pick your location, (nearly) any location (Open)
While it hadn't rated particularly highly as a threat, Rinzler almost regretted that the beta-user had been killed. Its attack had been an interesting diversion, and if it had gotten away in the end... well, even that had proven educational. The vent-space Chara had escaped through was too small for the enforcer to pursue, but further investigation found larger access paths concealed behind more casings on the walls. Worth securing. Worth mapping. And of course, there was only one way to manage that properly.
Anyone in the cargo bay, barracks, or other main living areas might start to hear some sounds. A scraping in the walls. A ticking rumble echoing through the ceiling. Rinzler moves quietly for the most part, but the navigational difficulties are many and new, and it's difficult to assess when the shape of the passages might carry sound to occupants below. If someone were to look into the ventilation at the right time, they might even see a dim red-orange glow peering back through the darkness. Not that Rinzler's watching you. Necessarily.
C. Moro #9 (Closed to
As much time as Rinzler spent traveling the halls (and air ducts) of the ship, his own room was an almost uncommon waypoint. There was no function to be served inside, and the enforcer slept as rarely as he could. For the most part, Rinzler used it as a storage unit. With barely a handful of items in his possession (and most of those pointless user clothes), he didn't take much space.
On the other hand, it didn't take much effort to notice when those items were disturbed. The first time he'd come back to find his things minutely shifted, Rinzler had offered a flat stare across the room, but no further commentary. Data gathering was a logical goal, and he didn't care enough about any of the objects to object to the intrusion. If the user laid a hand on his disk, it was losing the appendage, but it seemed intelligent enough to know where to stay clear.
At least, until he stopped by and found things missing from his stash. Not the uniforms or the discarded weapons, but the supply of resource tokens they'd been distributed as a reward. Useless on the ship, but necessary for supply exchange on user planets. Valuable.
This time, the stare lasts longer. It comes with a low, building growl.
[[ooc: will match prose or spam!]]
no subject
"If you are not adverse to such, there is a certain task that may or may not be needed to be fulfilled in the future that your showcasing of talents would make you ideal as a primary source to look towards in such an event. It would be understandable if you do not wish to accept or even hear the request, considering there is no actual benefit for such. Outside of knowing you did a job efficiently."
The ensuing silence as he awaits a cue that the other is willing to listen is used to sort out the information and tier it on a need to know basis, as well as on how the other responds to other information. There is a small chance he is wrong and the other may hesitate to perform such a task, but it's a chance so small it would be more likely for them all to be sent back home spontaneously then for the other to have that ethical hang up like some humans do.
no subject
Even if the other program is still far too inefficient with its words. A task. This program doesn't have any claim on his functions, and he hardly needs it to tell him he can refuse. Still, anything's better than idling, and this sounds at least a little more interesting than the users' routine chores. Rinzler launches himself up with a spin, catching his returning disk with a neat flip. Then the mask angles towards the blue projection by the door.
He's listening.
no subject
Though it's only two seconds that pause is more like five minutes to BB as he gathers himself.
"Normally such would have no impact for several more years to come, but with the amount of chaos this vessel seems to find and collect. Well, it's safe to say that something might happen that would push me over that limit. Which would cause me to become a threat to anything and everything on board this vessel. Thus, I believe having a failsafe or two in place to neutralize me in the event I do end up destabilizing. Which is why I've been observing you and others of certain skill sets who would be able to maneuver and find ways to get to me if I do end up in such a state and have no sanity left to try and terminate myself."
Never mind the fact he's pretty certain whatever was written into him to hit a kill switch if he did go rampant is likely not capable of such in this new environment.