thisavrou_log | ( april intro log )

Entry tags:

( april intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: April 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the correctional facility of Del Pascia.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Please label your content!

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slammed & counted
"I feel liberated when I'm doing it, and I want other people to feel liberated through it."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay.

Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.

With the combined efforts of the crew, the terror plaguing the ship has been successfully removed from the Moira. Yet, it doesn’t come without consequences. Aside from the overall state of those aboard the ship, the Moira itself has taken considerable damage across various sections. Overall functionality seems stable for now, but with necessary repairs to be made and few supplies to actually make them with, the Captains have set a course for any nearby planet with the hope of finding what they need. However, that is much closer than it appears. As new arrivals begin coming through the Ingress, a message is received by those in the Tower and broadcast to everyone:
Please be advised. Your vessel is now entering Restricted Space. As per penal code 65208-A, only authorized personnel are to be admitted beyond this point. If necessary, further assistance will be provided once docked.
As there is little choice, the Captains instruct Navigation to proceed with caution. All transporters will be required to assist in taking those who volunteer to the main hub.

WELCOME TO CORRECTIONAL FACILITY DEL PASCIA

Del Pascia is one of many facilities across the universe built to maintain and rehabilitate its inhabitants. With a combined populace of both prisoners and employed civilians, it functions as both prison and living quarters. The central section of Del Pascia is divided into multiple floors that branch out into subdivisions of the facility—clearly and precisely labeled. For those contracted to work in the prison, Del Pas Main is home. There are cafeterias, common areas for exercise and general downtime, divided residences, and work stations. Beyond this area, each remaining wing of Del Pascia separates into cell blocks A through F with similar facilities available to the inmates. Varying degrees of criminals are brought to Del Pascia, ranging from maximum security to juvenile offenders, and security differs depending on which block is visited.

Yet, there is something peculiar about this prison upon further investigation: there are no living persons within Del Pascia. The AI, which runs and oversees all of Del Pascia, has made arrangements with the Moira so that those who wish may board and take what is needed to begin repairs. This program, while generally polite in nature, goes simply by the name D-E-L.

☄ ENJOY YOUR STAY ... IN PRISON

Those who choose to go to Del Pascia will find themselves greeted by D-E-L. It has already agreed to terms with the Captains, allowing crew to strip nonessential supplies that aren’t needed since the station’s crew and prisoners were relocated due to funding cuts. The only condition placed upon this agreement is that any crew wishing to explore must undergo a mandatory decontamination before proceeding through the rest of Del Pascia. This process takes only minutes and is guaranteed to cause no physical side effects. Following this simple procedure, exploration is open with only warnings to be careful about damaging key systems. It is important to note that there are various security cameras located throughout the correctional facility, and it is not uncommon for D-E-L to comment or show concern for those exploring parts of Del Pascia.

☄ DEATH BECOMES YOU

There is salvage to be found in all parts of the facility, including the cell blocks and infirmaries of the prison wings. However, there is something odd about these sectors, a strange charge in the air that follows you as you search for anything useful to bring back to the Moira. Perhaps it is the eyes of D-E-L watching? But then, after an indiscernible amount of time, it's like a switch is flipped. Suddenly, you are wearing your sins where anyone but you can see. For however much death you have wrought or committed, there will be blood on your hands—perhaps even further than that. This bizarre occurrence will appear as an almost digital skin and will not vanish until outside the cell blocks. If exploring the infirmaries for supplies, any and all health stats throughout your life will be visible and easy to read by anyone who happens to take an interest.

For those who have killed once or twice, they might find a red stain on their hands, but the higher the kill count will result in larger proportions of blood covering their arms and, in extreme cases, perhaps their entire body. The blood will vanish once you have left the prison wing, though you may occasionally see a flicker of the image while anywhere on the station. The same goes for health stats viewed in infirmary sections of Del Pascia.

☄ WHAT WAS THAT SOUND?

Del Pascia is a very large station and has been abandoned for quite some time. D-E-L will regretfully inform anyone who asks that some nonessential areas have fallen into disrepair. It will warn that exploring these areas can be risky as it has no knowledge of what damage these sections have taken. Regardless of that, if you venture in, you’ll find that these sections are in rather bad shape. Exposed wiring sparks in the walls, a great variety of broken tools are thrown about, and it seems that every camera has been purposely broken. Venturing in further will yield valuable components for salvage, and yet... as before, you suspect you aren’t alone. It isn’t often, but sometimes, you might hear a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents. Every time you go to investigate... whatever made the noise is gone.

Should the AI be queried about this, D-E-L will emphasize that all personnel and prisoners were removed and that there is no one on board except crew from the Moira.

( ooc; For questions, go here. All players, please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

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Wow. Woooow. That joke was both clever and painful at the same time, and Mettaton wasn't sure he was okay with any of it. Still, he couldn't be dissuaded by a pun, and took the pen with a flourish before writing with ridiculously bubbly, semi-legible handwriting. The handwriting of a fabulous celebrity!

"Mmmhmm~" he hummed, copying down exactly what Sans requested, then signing his name. It was the best signature anyone could ever hope for on a napkin. "You know, your brand of, ah...comedy, it sounds familiar to me--I must have employed you at some time, yes?" They've certainly spoken before--Mettaton even remembered seeing the guy around sometimes when he'd borrow Frisk for fabulous field trip time...he thought, anyway. Really. He can't be expected to know EVERYONE he speaks to intimately. He's a busy bot! Regardless, he's polite about it. "Pardon me for having such a short memory--your name is~?"

Mince any harder and Sans would be convinced Alphys mined half his parts from discarded slap-chops.

"Sans. The skeleton." He nods to the paper, pleased to see the personal touch. His brother's going to flip and Sans can hardly wait to see it. Still, he indulges himself a little, peeking over the napkin. "I worked the room at your resort once or twice. Never got too many laughs, though."

Say that to his face, bone man. Or don't. It would probably be better if Sans didn't. Because for now, Mettaton's being amiable, and it's much better than his bitch mode. Gracefully, he slides the perfectly autographed napkin back over to Sans, appearing quite pleased with his handiwork.

"Very nice to become reacquainted then!! I'm surprised you didn't do more business at the resort! But then again, the world isn't much for puns, is it?"

This is Mettaton trying not to be a jerk. But hey, he's being honest! Something about puns bothers people, like they were forced to stare at something unpleasant. Mettaton doesn't care either way! He's not a comedian, he's a show host, and he has his own demographics to deal with!

"Do you do comedy work here too?"

"Every minute of every day." Sans nods sagely, folding the napkin carefully before putting it into his coat pocket. Normally he's not quite so delicate with his things, but this is for Papyrus. He can take the few extra seconds to make sure it doesn't get crumpled. "Nobody pays me for it, though. But hey, the best comedy comes from the heart, right?"

Sans winks, tapping the spot where his heart should be.

"How're you acclimating? Must be kinda nice, being somewhere you aren't swarmed for autographs constantly." Or not. Sans is betting on the or not part of that.

Forgoing the actual question of whether Sans even has a heart, Mettaton instead praises the rest of what he'd said.

"Doing what you love has its own sense of satisfaction, something that money can't give," Mettaton says with a nod. If Sans likes jokes, then he can tell the jokes!! "I think that's how I'll be thinking from now on, since my new job involves...fixing robots and people with robotic limbs."

Yeaaaah, he's not too chuffed about it. He would rather do the autographs, honestly. And boy howdy, does it show. Ever seen a robot pout?

"Heh, seriously? They gave you a tech job?" And him a job as a janitor. Well, at least the Moira's job assignment profiling is consistent. "I'm guessing Al never gave you a crash course in upkeep, huh?"

"Of course not, the only thing I have to manage is my own battery levels. I'm very efficient, you know." He added the bragging as an afterthought. It made him seem less childish about his job assignment. Maybe. "I suppose I'll need to learn, however!!"

He's not really excited about specializing in a new thing that has nothing to do with entertaining. How is he supposed to get fans if all he's doing is working on other robots? How do these robots even work? Ughhh, why isn't Alphys here for him to push this off onto?!

"Well, I wish I could help you, pal. They've got me on janitorial duty." Sans grins, shrugging wider. "I find our culture's affinity for trash makes me not completely rubbish at it."

Heh.

"If it makes you feel any better, I know a few people who've taken the initiative and gotten themselves a reassignment."

"If you're into that sort of--hmm." Mettaton almost missed the joke. If that was indeed mean to be a joke. Hmmmmm. No, he's not going to criticize. He'll be a perfectly polite automaton today! So he just continues his sentence as if there'd been no pause. "Ahem. If you're into that sort of thing, then I suppose the job is a good fit. Do feel free to share any interesting bits you find in the rubbish, darling!"

Seriously. Just the good stuff. Mettaton's not here for the actual trash. Oh, but the mention of reassignment though. That catches his interest.

"Aha, so you can get a different job~? How interesting!"

"Looks like that really charges you up." Sans grins, shuffling his hands back into his pockets. "You can drop a line to one of the Personnel Directors, they sure could use more to do."

...He'll allow that one.

"Excellent!! I'll get around to voicing my intentions just as soon as I'm able. It's not immediately pressing though. A small adjustment period couldn't hurt!!"

That's why he'd been people watching. It's easier to get a feel for your audience and all the demographics by checking them out in person!!

"Heh, as long as you pace yourself, bud. Don't wanna go too fast, you might get mistaken for a meteor."

His jokes were getting a little niche. Never let it be said that sugary tomato water doesn't get a guy where he's going fast.

"But as long as you're adjusting, you're welcome to hang with me. I'm all a-bot company."

That first joke...was it even a joke? Mettaton doesn't seem to care, it's a comparison he'll definitely run with.

"But darling, I am a blazing meteor when it comes to showbiz! I do love good pacing though," he responds emphatically, making himself comfortable on a stool once more. So he signed the napkin. That didn't mean he couldn't chatter a little with someone clearly in a state of pleasant inebriation.

It was kind of cute, in its own way.

"Hmm, you're in excellent company then, I'd say!!"

So...the jokes are starting to grow on him a little. Sans ought not push his luck too hard though.

"Mind if I frame that compliment and have you sign it too?" Sans asks, leaning against his palm lazily. "'Cuz I don't think my bro'll believe it when I tell him. He might think I've brainwashed you. A little advanced warning."

Mettaton lets out a metallic laugh at that, still not entirely sure if Sans is dreaming up a brother or not. Either way, signing a compliment seems like something he'd do. In fact, t was totally something he would do if it weren't a metaphorical thing.

"Oh, honey. I'll sign anything you want! All you have to do is make it a usable surface!!"

After all, he has been asked to sign butts. Seriously. If you had a butt he'd sign it, Sans.

Far be it from him to butt in on that enterprising side business of his.

"I'll keep that in mind."

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( april intro log )

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that icon. sans put the sauce down

never