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January 2024 Test Drive Meme: Our First!
| Welcome to the Simulation: Our First Test Drive |
Full Navigation Reserves open 01/27/2024 @ 12:00 AM EST |
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Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Optional light alcohol, isolation, bad weather via thunderstorms, feeling of being watched and taunted, false information, mental manipulation, memory manipulation, memories or depictions of murder and torture There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. It has been a long, long, long day, hasn't it? You don't even remember sitting on the couch and you certainly don't remember dozing off. But that strange broadcast certainly woke you up and now...You are here. In an unfamiliar house with outdated wallpaper and dirty carpet. The weather outside seems frightful. Torrential downpours with clashing thunder and flashes of lightning chase even the most persistent shadows in the house. Was the lady on the TV serious? Did you just have to wait in this lousy place for the storm to blow over? Or, wait, how did she word it? Wait while things finish configuration. Damn, your head is hurting and you could use a drink. Hopefully, the tacky yellow kitchen has a stocked fridge. Luckily for you, it's filled with fresh food and some fresh booze. There is a knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. Unluckily for you, there is another person in this house with you. They might have woken up on the same couch as you or are bumping around upstairs. Either way, the freak in the polka-dot dress wasn't wrong: You're not alone here. When you and whoever else in this house finally join up, you will notice that the house seems to become a bit more lively. The pictures on the wall change to feature you or your companion. Some of the pictures are genuine from back in your homeworld, but others...Not so much. Others look like false memories of you with families you don't even remember or at a school you never attended, but they are all so real you can't help but think maybe Daisy is telling the truth after all. There is a heavier knock at the door. You mustn't answer the door. There is a radio in the house that suddenly begins to declare an emergency announcement: "At this time, we urge all residents of Sweet Acres to seek shelter immediately. The wind is picking up and we anticipate this storm to last the rest of the night - Oh? A heavy booming knock lands three times at the front door. Let. Me. In. The pictures around the house begin to change. Now it shows you and whoever you're sharing the house with doing some...terrible things. Maybe some of it is true. Some of it may be completely false. Will it matter when the pictures seem so terrifyingly real? What happens when the TV glitches on and starts to play sketchy home videos of one of you doing something terrible? What happens when the radio starts to play terrifying audio of you confessing to an atrocious crime? What happens when the person you're stuck in the house with might just be the stranger the radio warned you about? Or will you have the sense to realize that something is very wrong here and that you're both being played a fool? The knocking at the door is only getting louder. So loud it cracks the door. The storm worsens. What should you do? The madness will only worsen the longer you stay. You may even be driven to defend yourself from each other, you may come to develop false memories of crimes you didn't commit. You may just... Decide to open that damn door already. It turns out, that's what you needed to do the entire time. Because the moment you do? You open the door and see a beautiful, sunny day outside. No rain. Not a single gray cloud. Certainly no horrifying stranger either. But now you're left with whatever you did or thought from the house. For some people, the terror may slip away as easily as the rain, but for some of you, you might be stuck with paranoia and suspicion. Welcome to Sweet Acres. |
| [ The Bot Problem ] |
Summary: 🌼 Content Warnings: Forced sexuality, optional sex, aphrodisiac style computer virus, dubious consent, hunted by machines, use of bombs, guns, and shrapnel. Possible character death or maiming You will notice that there are still some errors in the system as you go out and about exploring your new town. There will be an occasional glitch that opens up a screaming void of bottomless darkness before it blinks out of existence. Those are unsettling enough, but at least they don't seem harmless. The bots, on the other hand, are a different story. They glitch into the town, cracking through this carefully structured reality like breaking through a window. It seems like Daisy has a lot of work to do on the external firewalls of Sweet Acres! In the meantime, you're going to have to deal with her incompetence. A lot of the bots can easily be mistaken for other residents in town. These are model-gorgeous women and men who almost seemed like caricatures of stereotypical beauty conventions. Big lips, huge hips, large muscles, chiseled jaws, perfect hair, pearly white teeth. These beauties flounce about and no matter who or what you are, if they look your way, they are immediately approaching you. "Hey, sexy. I'm single, horny, and lonely. I just turned 18 and I've got my daddy's credit card." "I've never seen a person more beautiful than you. I'm the CEO of at least three different six-figure income businesses. How about I take you on a night out in my Ferrari?" There isn't a single thought behind those eyes or in those smiles. If you have the thought to rely on your Daze, you can just block the Sex Bots and they will blink out of existence. Alternatively, you could probably just smash them out of existence with a good punch or the swing of a weapon...They will just vanish into a cloud of corrupt coding. But if you're a bit more gullible and still catching up on the strangeness of this place or can't figure out Daze, you might make the mistake of responding to one of these bots. The Bot will immediately scan you for all of your information and warp its features into something that you actually would find to be the ideal beauty. "This is better, right?" It's hard to deny...They even sound like the ideal beauty in your mind. A gentle hand on your arm and then they are leading you away. Except they aren't leading you anywhere. You watch helplessly as coding goes up your arm and begins to consume your body. You can't feel anything but a prickling sensation. The Bot vanishes, but you are left rewired. Now it is you with the dramatic features emphasizing your most attractive parts. Regardless of your personality, you suddenly feel the urge to walk up to just about anyone anywhere and flirt with them. Whether stupidly or sincerely. It's hard to remember yourself with the bot's virus wreaking havoc on your Daze. Worst case scenario? You wind up sleeping with someone because of this bizarre virus, but you will also ironically get it out of your system this way and feel completely normal after. Alternatively, you can find someone who is a bit more tech-savvy with the Daze and who might have an idea of how to hack into your system and get rid of the virus for you. This might involve some personal line of questioning, but hey, at least you're not walking around asking for sex from total strangers anymore! The Sex Bots are a dream compared to the other virus attacking the system of Sweet Acres. One will begin to see small metal robots trotting about, no bigger than a backpack, with lethal determination. These metal dogs scour their surroundings for anything organic or anything that doesn't belong in the space. This means they are actively ripping up plants and destroying trees, which is tragic enough, but just be glad they haven't seen you yet because it turns out that Daisy's Sweet Subjects are the metal dog's top priority. The moment they notice you, they will begin a neverending chase. These robots can catch up to a speeding car and resist an enormous amount of damage. They are waterproof and run on their own network completely disconnected from the Daze, so good luck trying to hack into them- it won't work. They can see just as well in the dark as the light and have sensors that allow them to pick up on body temperature as well as any vibrations you might make. They are not gentle creatures: their goal is to terminate all organic beings and Sweet Subjects in the area. If they catch you, they will immediately attempt to blow your head off with a small gun they can form. Alternatively, they will expel a shrapnel bomb if you catch them off guard. They also have paralyzing fog bombs. Metal dogs can be destroyed, however. With large explosions, armor-piercing weaponry, people with extreme super strength. Or you can get creative! Maybe you know a spell that can turn them into a stuffed animal or melt the metal. Maybe you have control over metal beings. There are ways to destroy these things. But don't worry. If worse comes to worse, Daisy is going around to destroy them for you. But do you really want to owe her your life? |
(lil) hal (strider). homestuck.
cws: potential for violence, irreverence in the face of others' discomfort, weird robot shit
[ waking up is a new experience. it's like coming back from offline mode, he supposes, but at first, he thinks he's dreaming. (do androids dream of fucked up clown freaks?) he's sitting on the couch, completely impassive as the storm rages on and the knocking on the door intensifies, and he looks over at the person next to him, tilting his head slightly. ]
It seems that the knocking won't stop unless we open the door.
[ his voice is vaguely metallic. it doesn't have to be, but he likes it. anyway, if this is a dream, he can do whatever he wants. it's not like he has a dream self or has to worry about dream bubbles or anything. he just is. there's a nagging sensation at the back of his head, inside whatever you'd call a robotic skull, about how things are wrong, but he always has a body in his dreams.
obviously, it's totally normal. ]
I don't mind being the one to open it.
More bots, more problems.
cws: sexual coercion, a robot pretending to still have the brain of a child to get out of being hit on
[ this sex bot thing is really not doing it for him. hal's exploring and taking everything in and there's obvious bait going around. he's able to avoid them for the most part, but it's extremely annoying when a particularly insistent one keeps trying to get his attention, to draw him in, to touch him.
he takes a sharp step back as it approaches, shaking his head. ]
I have the brain of a thirteen-year-old.
[ it's technically true. it was a thirteen-year-old brain that made him. you know, several years ago. ]
more bots, more problems
He's watching the whole thing unfold with a relatively blank look on his face. He probably could and should intervene, but also, if Hal is going to be walking around...)
Just kick their ass, dude.
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I'm having an abundance of caution about touching them, just in case. I don't seem to have a weapon with me.
[ he pauses then, searching his big ol' robot brain for an idea, then looks at the bot meaningfully, which seems to cause it to flicker and outright disappear. ]
Oh. [ a beat. ] It appears blocking them is effective, but there are so many that it feels like old-earth social media bots. I suppose that's what they are.
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(Except actually maybe Hal does. He's not so sure if he's as physical as he looks. Dirk's trying to ignore the deep itch to ask a dozen questions about What the Fuck Is Happening Here.
Then that happens and at almost the exact same time as Hal, he also utters an "Oh.")
That's anti-climatic. (Then again...) We really must be in a sim then. Could just be a virus in the system. (Another beat.) Could explain why you're here like this. (Maybe. It's a theory.)
Are you even like...physical? Or is this shit just digital?
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[ it's got to be uncanny as hell: on top of looking almost exactly like dirk (but a robot), his voice sounds like dirk's, just slightly metallic. weird. ]
It's efficient is what it is. [ he pauses then, considering his answer carefully. ] It depends on what you mean. I could touch you right now, but if we're both in the same sim, that doesn't mean anything. I thought I was dreaming at first, but it doesn't fit the profile. And before you say anything, yes I dream. Second, no, I'm not going to tell you what I dream about.
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(Dirk's words come out a bit brisker than he means for them to, and man, this was a lot different than talking with an obvious computerized program. He sighs, rubbing at his temple.)
I'm trying to figure out if I somehow made another fuckin' splinter without even realizing it and how connected you are to my actual current psyche.
(Or if Hal was still just some object he had made and discarded. Hal's right. Touch didn't mean shit in a place like that. It wasn't a confirmation of anything.)
I would be more shocked if you didn't dream and I'd piss on my past self for being so shitty at creating an effective AI.
(He'd piss on his past self anyway, but like. Not the point.)
Man, I don't wanna know what you dream about. (Actually, wait no.)
Do you dream in image or code?
(............)
Are you really struggling with adjusting to your physical body?
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[ he's giving this conversation more consideration than he might normally, but only a little. ]
We haven't actually been the same person [ emphasis on person ] since you first unleashed me. We have different experiences, we're not the same Dirk.
[ then, with a nasty little grin: ]
Wouldn't you like to know? And of course I am. Maybe if you'd made me a real boy sooner I wouldn't be such a dissappointment. Just a thought.
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Yes, yes he did and he thought it was peak hilarity.)Yeah, well, I sure as hell never programmed you to have a face and body either, so sorry if I figure we're playing a different league with new rules.
(He exhales slowly. He has to remind himself that this thing was just a child by all logistical standards. And yet...)
With that little trick you just pulled with the sexbot, you think I can't hack into your system and figure it out? (Okay, so, Dirk could use some work on how to talk to both himself and a child version of himself at that. And try to respect Hal's autonomy. But also:)
You were a lame ego-stroking project that should have been deleted by the time I hit fourteen. I ain't exactly who I was back when you knew me either. We're both a disappointment, kid.
(He had been in his twenties and for all intents and purposes, dead if he was lucky. If his subconscious got uploaded into some weird torture digital hellscape then that was honestly a better fate than he probably deserved. He just wasn't so sure if he could say the same for Hal - even with his hostility.)
And man, no two Dirks are alike. We're all cruising on different shitty timelines with different shitty purposes.
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[ he gets extremely quiet after that, eyes narrowing behind his shades. when he speaks, it's somehow both flat and icy at the same time. ]
Fuck you. [ again. ] You don't get to fucking make someone and then tell them you should have killed them. Been there, done that, don't care to relive it. Do you even listen to yourself talk? And don't call me kid, I've been around long enough to know exactly what you grow into. I just wanted to see if the bot would back off when faced with a child. Clearly not, experiment complete.
[ he crosses his arms over his chest, frustrated. he doesn't know why it's so fucking hard to keep control of his emotions anymore; it's never happened to him before and it makes him even madder to know he's breaking face in front of dirk. ]
I'm going to make the most of having a body, bro. I'll have a purpose that suits me just fine.
[ god, he sounds like a child even though he's not. not that dirk will accept 'i've existed for five years so now i'm eighteen' or anything, so why is he even bothering? ]
cw: suicidal ideation
Fair point on the comparison. I concede there. (Hal was a far more complex and intricate system than some busty bimbo with Pornhub's top search phrases on a running loop for dialogue.)
Unfortunately, all I fuckin' do is listen to myself talk. (And telling himself to die was practically old hat at this point. Still, looking into a younger version of himself's face who carried all of his defiance and insecurities back when he was a kid...It isn't as easy as it was when Hal was just a line of annoying red text.)
Sex bots have zero concept of morality. (Neither did Dirk but whatever.
He's tense and it's on the tip of his tongue to tell Hal how pointless it was to find a purpose. That any variation of Dirk functionally had no purpose besides being a sabotaging asshole. Why bother with another failed timeline? Didn't Hal see that it was practically charity to put them all out of their collective misery?
But fuck, maybe he's just jaded. Maybe all of the times he's split his soul and offed himself and come back and fucked around wore him down into someone more bitter and pessimistic about the statistics of his outcome. Wouldn't Hal just become some new fucked up iteration of him that caused chaos in a totally different way? And then what would Dirk do? Have to fess up that even if he had it to do all over again, he'd still make all of the shittiest choices? Just use Hal as solid proof of how shitty of a person he was?
He's gnawing on his lip and stops when he tastes a hint of metallic. He straightens up and exhales again, this time his shoulders slumping with it.)
Okay. Fine. (Metaphorical sword lowered.)
Fine. Sorry. (Apologizing to himself felt absurd.)
I'm just projecting my bullshit onto you. (Like always!)
If you're gonna try to figure out this body business, I can help. Ain't gonna let my face wander around this place like Bambi on roofies.
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please wait...
[When in doubt, he falls back on what the rules are, every time. That's how you stay alive, right?]
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Do you always do everything you're told? You'll never get anywhere in life without at least a sliver of rebellion.
[ he starts to walk over to the door. the knocking intensifies and the door's shaking on its hinges. ]
You can go hide if you want, but I'm opening it.
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His instinct is to the take the invitation, to bolt and hide in as secure a place as possible. But he's trying to be braver, trying not to overthink things.] N-No, no, I'm not -- going to run away. I'm just -- hold on a second, let me -- [looking around frantically, Koby finally snatches up a lamp, brandishing it like he's ready to throw it at whoever's knocking.]
Okay. I'm ready.
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[ sure, hal wants to live, but busting him into pieces this way wouldn't kill him, he's pretty sure. all the important bits are in his head, so as long as his head's intact, well, it's fine.
he does pause long enough for the guy to get his shit together, then looks at him. an led eyebrow arches near the top of his shades, then flickers out before he shrugs. ]
You got it.
[ he walks to the door. he only hesitates a split-second (what if there is someone what if he gets broken what if it hurts what if they smash his head to bits) before steeling himself and opening the door.
there's no one there, and it's an absolutely beautiful day outside with no sign there ever was a storm to begin with. he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. ]
I fucking knew it. That bitch is already playing games with us.
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So he follows along, holding his breath, lamp at the ready, bracing himself to fling it at whoever's on the other side of the door -- but it's nobody. Because it's quiet and peaceful and sunny, and Koby should feel relieved. But there's just a plummeting sense of dread in his stomach.
He slowly lowers the lamp.] Why? What's -- the point?
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[ he turns back toward the guy, tilting his head a little, and shrugs one shoulder. ]
The entire purpose of this place is to torture us, learning experiences be damned, and breaking people's minds down is one of the first steps to assure continued compliance. But hey, that's just my opinion.
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Why do you think that's the point? [What can be gained by torture? Information? Compliance? Just for fun?]
please wait...
Okay, okay, that's not true. But it sure hasn't happened in years — not since way before The Game. Not his favorite familiar feeling, ngl.
The voice that grabs him right out of that uneasy funk of searching for some contest is familiar — almost. Enough that he looks over and, without thinking, says: ]
Dunno, dude, you sure the play here isn't to go for the running dive out the back window? [ A beat. ] Oh, hey, Robo-Dirk.
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then what dave actually said really sinks in and it's funny how he feels emotions so strongly now, isn't it? it's not fair. it's not fair because he feels physically sick even though he's pretty sure he doesn't even have a stomach. he hasn't tried eating yet. ]
I'm not Robo-Dirk. Don't—don't call me that, Dave.
[ it grates out of him, metallic and small and audibly kind of upset. it skips a little like a broken record when he stutters.
god, he's being so uncool right now. ]
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So Dave freezes up for one startled second. Blinks a few times behind his shades as he tries to fit the Dirk-shaped object in something other than the Dirk-shaped hole. ]
Uh. Sorry, dude. Totally uncool of me to see a Dirk-shaped robot and think it's Robo-Dirk. [ Okay, he can't squeeze all the sarcasm out, that's just not who he is as a person. ] You got some other name I can call you? Otherwise it's gonna get real damn awkward when I'm trying to get your attention and the obvious descriptor sends you on the fritz.
[ Look, he means well. He's just kinda shit at it. ]
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but he does feel upset, flops (metaphorically) bonelessly onto the couch and having physical sensations sucks because his eyes hurt and his chest hurts and he's quiet a long moment before he shrugs one shoulder, trying to pretend he's not being a little bitch baby about this. ]
Dude, it's lil Hal.
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Oh. Hey, dude. Last time I saw you, you were part sweaty horse guy building on up to Heaven. By which I mean paradox space, so that's a shitty metaphor considering that universe is one hundo percent kaput now, but whatever. Congrats on the upgrade to sweet metallic chassis bod.
[ He offers his fist out. ]
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[ hal doesn't sigh in relief, but a lot of the tension leaves his body, servos relaxing a bit at his joints, and he smiles despite himself. he doesn't have the practice schooling his expression like dirk and dave do now that he actually has a face. he'll work on it.
he expertly completes the bump, then tilts his head a little. ]
Thanks. I've always wanted one.
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Holy shit, you're full on articulated— Fuck. Sorry. [ He hopes this doesn't negate the fist bump. What if his robot kinda of bro doesn't like him??? ] Goddamn, there is just no way to recover from this, is there? It's like I made a doohickey specifically to take a giant mechanical shit and stepped in.
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when hal responds, he sounds almost hopeful. damn inflection. ]
You really think it's cool?
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