Love is in the air in Cerealia -- or, well, it is in ViViD anyway. And nobody cares about your lives outside of ViViD, so that's all that matters. It's an artificial love construct, but for you sad, lonely, little people, it's probably good enough, right? CERES is on a mission to find you your other half, your soulmate, your one and only, and this is how they've decided to do it -- through technology and abuse of your private information! Welcome to your new love life, courtesy of ViViD.
For your convenience, CERES has automatically generated dating profiles to help match up the new arrivals swiftly and speed up the "get to know each other" process. Nothing like some not-entirely-agreed-to speed dating to break the ice and improve new relations! You're going to be here for awhile, so you may as well get to know each other.
For the older residents, well... you may very well find your soulmate here! You don't want to miss out on that. That would just be an unfixable tragedy. So here, use the handy-dandy profiles and find your new honey. After all, the information on these profiles is 100% accurate, certified and verified by Mosley himself.
Why would you ever doubt that?
 I've never actually been on a date before. Not that there haven't been offers but I'm just too busy a guy! I think to myself, "Mosley, me, guy who's talking to himself, why won't you go on a date with that nice lady who just asked you out?" And I reply, "Oh, you gorgeous bastard, I'm satisfied with my life as it is already! I don't need love." After all, what is love? Baby, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more.
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PHASE I [ 6 00 ] Gooooood morning, new ViViD compatriots and gamers! You’re not going to get a lot of time to adjust and recover from your sudden retrieval from destroyed and sad code, really, because as soon as you arrive, fresh and new to Cerealia, you’ll be faced with a profile.
Oh, look, it’s your face! And… a quote attributed to you? And your favorite object? Hopefully those details are correct, because there’s no going back now.
You’ve become an otome love interest.
For those who aren’t brand new to ViViD, you’ll be presented the exact same profiles -- but you’ll have to pick one. You know how this works, pick the love interest you want to romance and sweep them off their feet. Better pick the right route too because, haha! You wouldn't want to end up naked and alone in a basement again! That would be crazy. Just pick some rando hottie instead, it's no big.
Or, well, that’s what they say. But then you’re dumped into a ballroom, dressed up to the nines in finery, and surrounded by other milling NPCs. You're given a moment to process the whole situation before a genteel-looking older man who seems to be running this party steps up to the microphone. Gently, he clears his throat, and welcomes everyone to the party ("Haven't been to a party this fine since I had all my teeth!"), and then he gestures to a pile of weapons in the middle of the room and finishes cheerfully, “Anyway, whoever survives can leave this room -- enjoy!”
It looks like the NPCs aren’t messing around; they’re immediately diving for the weapons, so you might want to get a move on.
Welcome to the Cerealia Dating Hunger Games.
PHASE II [ 1000 ] When you burst out of the ball room, possibly covered in the blood of your enemies (your poor dress/suit!), you’ll find yourself in what looks to be a sprawling jungle. In reality, it’s a circular arena, and if you travel far enough, you can reach the walls, though they’re electrified with no way out. If you try to get past them, you’re going to fry yourself before you accomplish anything else! Where's the fun in that?
The bigger problem is this: there are some unfortunate monsters on the prowl (don't they... look a little familiar?) in the jungle, and they are ready and willing to eat up anyone who crosses their paths. They’re drawn to the scent of blood -- and, even more so, the scent of people in love. So hey, if you're in love right now, it might be a good time to run. Otherwise, you're the top target and about to be hunted. Have fun out there, lovebirds!
Meanwhile, the NPCs (or even your fellow player characters?!) are out for blood themselves, so nowhere is truly safe.
Was that... was that a scream for help, or someone coming to get you?
PHASE III [ 1145 ] At some point, you’re going to need supplies. It starts to feel like you’ve been in here for days without any food or water (but that’s weird, wasn’t this ViViD session supposed to be just a few hours -- ) and you’re starting to feel the effects.
So, time to get in touch with your inner man vs wild. There are animals to hunt (deer, rabbit, etc.) and if you can fashion a spear or use a weapon you scooped up in the chaos, you can kill them for food. Alternatively, you can just try stealing some supplies from your fellow players. That's probably a saner option.
Which leaves you sneaking up onto their camp, full of sneakiness, and more sneakiness, and a little bit of stealth, you reach out and...
Suddenly, there are lights on you! Cameras! Cheering, adoring crowds! There's a narrator narrating every step you're taking (loudly) and there are fans hanging on your every move --
Oh, did that wake up the other player and/or bring monsters roaring down upon you? Whoops. The perils of spectator sports like the Cerealia Hunger Games, really.
PHASE IV [ 1400 ] You did it. Someone came at you, and you killed them. Their blood is on your hands, but it’s fine -- it’s just a program in a game.
Right?
Except when you look again, it’s someone you know. The corpse of a person who’s very important to you in so many ways is lying there on the ground, blood still warm but clearly dead. They’re solid to the touch. They’re there, and they look just like that person you care about so very much. Your heart hurts.
And you’re the one who killed them.
Then, without warning, it starts to rain because ViViD is nothing if not good at sensing the mood.
PENALTY [ why o'clock ] So.
You died.
This isn't really that surprising, considering it's the Cerealia Dating Hunger Games. People die a lot in games like these. It's the price of love.
Don't worry, though! It's just ViViD, so it's not like you really died. You'll get reconstructed, good as new, and they'll toss you right back onto the battlefield. Except, well... it seems like something's a little different.
For one thing, you've got claws instead of hands.
You can't seem to speak, either; all you can manage is garbled growls and sharp noises.
And, worst of all... you're really, very intensely hungry, and you can smell blood (or people in love, that's an even better scent).
So yeah, you're one of the monsters now. Don't worry, it only happens the first time you die in this game; if someone valiantly slays you again, you'll come back good as new, a normal person in the Games. What a weird glitch. There's no way that's on purpose or anything, right? No way!
[ Remember to apply proper warnings on threads with sensitive or inappropriate material and do let a mod know if your thread careens off into maiming or canoodling so we can lock the log. ] |
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[The truth of the matter is that Padmé is not quite too certain what to make of the profile, but then again, she isn't too certain what to make about any of this. Dressed in a gown that she is familiar with, for once the Senator does look a bit out of sorts. While she has never had any issues with public gatherings, no matter what level, she usually does have some notice about it happening. And, considering what has been going on prior to her arrival... She cannot say that she is particularly in the mood for- well, whatever this is.
Yet her attention does turn when the man steps up, and her focus moves to him, regading him. The first part of his speech is normal enough, albiet still not exactly telling of what is happening, but the last? Oh, it does make Padmé freeze, wondering what sort of place this is. There are a jumble of questions that rise to her lips, such as what is the point of these profiles, let alone the point of surviving to leave the room. Padmé cannot say she is exactly in the mood for such nonsense, still feeling slightly weak from her own exploits at home, but she also has no desire to be injured. While she doesn't move for a weapon, she does move to find a more strategic position to give herself time to think, and mutters to herself.]
Just what type of being can truly condone this course of action.
[Penalty]
[Her eyelids flicker upon, eyes focusing slowly upon the ceiling above her. For a moment, she is still, trying to piece together what has happened. Her hand shifts, seeking to brush again wayward strands of hair that have come loose, although she pauses. There is no hand, but rather, there are claws.
Her head cocks, confusion rising, and as she moves to speak, her voice comes out in a guttural tone, low and animalistic, nothing at all like her own. She tries again, harder this time, yet the growl only intensifies, more menacing in nature. Even as her mind attempts to sort it out, she is distracted, and inhaling deeply, Padmé slowly rises to her feet, following the scent that has enticed her.
The scent of blood.]
i | also damn, that dress tho
...Even Obi-Wan, who should be a source of help in a ridiculous hellscape like this is only found to be younger than Anakin's ever known, and completely unaware of what's to come. (Needless to say, it's the opposite of helpful).
So with all of this time on his hands, he decides to try and kill some. On the worst day possible. His mind stalls when presented with that myriad of profiles, wondering if this is CERES playing a joke, of if this is, yet again, the force's terrible idea of "fate," and he almost passes it over in resentment.
But if Anakin Skywalker is known for anything, it's obstinance. He can't walk away. Not on the potentiality that this is...real.
And so here he is, stuck in "finery" that hardly suits and looks ridiculous, left to stare awkwardly in that way that's never really quite gone away: reverernce bound to an ever present overwhelmed confusion that practically screams his feelings on how little he deserves this.
In that dress, no less.
It's a very, very good thing the guy running this show shows up before he can approach and get an equally-awkward word in edgewise. It isn't until--of kriffing course--chaos ensues that he finally makes his approach...while subsequently rolling his eyes a bit at that overheard declaration.]
Is this really the time for whys?
don't get distracted, hubby!
[In another time and another place, there would have been that private looked passed between them, a deeper understanding that the two of them held. It wasn't often that they had been allowed time to themselves, and decorum had needed to be stood upon. In another time, it would have been a lighting of her eyes, a look of relief, and perhaps a wry smile that tugged just so at the corner of her lips.
His voice is known, is etched in to her very soul, as much a part of her as her own, and yet it is her confusion that spreads across her face as she turns, mouth open, to regard the man that's her husband. The last images are burned in to her mind, of how he had looked when Obi-Wan had slipped off of her ship, of how Anakin had assumed that Padmé had betrayed him, at how his hand had risen and squeezed...
Her mouth snaps shut, and while her blood is pounding against her ears, she does remain where she is, still looking bewildered and unsure. She meant what she told Obi-Wan, that there is still good in him, yet after everything that has happened in such a short time frame, Padmé truly isn't certain she is ready for it.
Yet his eyes... Her own linger on his, not seeing that firm hardness or hatred. Not seeing that man who wore the body of her husband but who had been going down a path that she simply couldn't follow. She should be focusing more on the mess that was going on around them, trying to understand what exactly this was, but her world revolves only around one single individual.
Him.] Anakin? Is it truly- You're- But... [For a woman who can sway the masses with her speeches, her words are as disjointed as her emotions, and her mind scrambles to try to make sense of it.]
i think we're equally screwed here lmfao
They don't have time for this. Well and truly. But...when most of their time alone has been so scrapped together in-between battles and dogfights of physical and philosophical natures both, it's really not all that different from home, is it?]
Yes, it's really me. No, this is mostly not real. Yes, I'm fine, and yes, you do, in fact, still look great in that dress. Anything else?
[
ANAKIN, PLEASE.Levity, it seems, is not a quality he brought with him today. He does notice that look: the surprise, the shock, the...hurt? (And oh, if he ever finds whoever gave her that, they're likely to be the only ones walking out of this simulation.) But he attributes it, easily, to the overwhelming information presented upon arrival, when it's still too early to discern truth from an assumed apocalyptic future.If he hadn't already been angry with CERES, he sure is now.
No matter how much he'd secretly hoped for this.]no subject
Can he know how comforting it is to hear him talk as he usually would, to know he is flirting with her about her dress (she can easily remember the last time she has worn it), and she finds her shoulders slumping, a sharp breath exhaled suddenly.
It might not be the best time, she is moving forward, and any witnesses be damned, hugging him. Him. A part of her could stay there all day, but the world is still moving on around them, and as she steps back, her eyes search his out again.] I just- I don't understand, Ani. What happened on Mustafar?
[Obi-Wan's expression... She knows that they had been like brothers, but it had been shattered. What is happening here. What has happened to him.]
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He watches those wide, concerned eyes trying to find something there between them, and he's not even sure if he should wonder if she's found it or not. He knows enough--just enough--for that concern to set his nerves on edge.]
What happened on--since when does anything happen out there?
[As far as he's concerned, it's not a Republic territory or ally, despite whatever useful resources it may have had, and aside from an errant mission with his once-padawan, there's not a whole lot to say about it.]
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... is any of this real? Perhaps some delusion brought on in her dying breathes, but if so, why? And how? He had felt so warm with that hug, so like the man that she had married, and not the one who had looked at her with such disgust.]
You said... You were given a mission, that the Separatists had gathered on the Mustafar system. That you were going there to end the war.
[And after... After... She shakes her head again, as if to rid herself of the images.
Yet she cannot help but watch his face, as if looking for some flicker of acknowledgment. Or should she? Should she be pressing? Oh, but none of it matters anymore, does it?]
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[Case in point. But the more she pushes, the more he picks up on that frightened concern, and he's only left with so many conclusions before he starts to wonder if Kylo Ren hadn't really been right all along. If this is how it happened, if it was really as unavoidable as it seemed.
But his confusion only gives way to more concern, not anger. Whatever this is, whether or not that nagging paranoia is right, something is clearly wrong. And whatever it is, he's never known her to withhold much at all: something has happened, whether or not he's aware of it.]
Look, whatever it is, I'll f--we'll fix it.
[
What's one more outlandish promise on a pile of them?]no subject
i!
[ The man approaching her might seem more machine than man, but at any rate— the expression on his face, scar-torn as it is, is placid enough in comparison to the fierce weapon scavenging that's going on a few yards away.
His profile lists him as 'Samuel Rodrigues, Age 23, Favorite item- whipped cream.' Most of that is probably suspect (especially the age), but he's taking that in relative stride as well. ]
So. Either we fight, or we die. What to do, what to do?
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[Her gaze flickers, darting up and down. Given the own inaccuracies in her own profile, she doesn't place much stock on them. Nor is she too certain what to make of his approach.]
I fail to see any amusement in it.
[While she is someone that does know how to use a blaster, and has been trained in self-defence, the key words do come from the later. She has never been one to take pleasure in the misfortune of others, and she isn't going to compromise herself now.]
The words were not that. They were those who survive may leave. It doesn't necessitate violence.
[Although the addition of the weapons did hint strongly at that issue.]
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But he also finds her insistence on pacifism to be more than misplaced, given that he's fairly certain that no one here is exactly keen on playing nice.
One scarred brow raises in slight bemusement, before turning down into an expression that borders on amused exasperation. ]
Try telling them that.
[ He gestures towards an NPC, one that's gleefully brandishing a chainsaw. Comforting. ]
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Her gaze does shift, lips pursing.] While I'm not above aggressive measures, I would at least try to talk to them before simply harming them...
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So he's as casual as casual can be, gesturing to a very large robotic dog standing a few yards away to get him a sword; said dog doesn't look too pleased, but he does trot off to dispatch a few enemies on his way to acquiring a weapon. ]
Talk all you like, then. You can talk for the both of us.
[ Because Sam doesn't have the same amount of faith in these NPCs as he does, clearly. ]
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Penalty...
Eventually, he relents and sighs in defeat. But that's when he hears some rustling in the bushes. He looks up in alarm, but hopeful that it's one of his friends.]
...Who's there?
[He has managed to get a few weapons at least. A spear that's lying on the ground right now, and a taser that's in his pocket. But right now, he's focusing on determining whether what's approaching him is friend or foe.]
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[If he expects an answer, he will find himself disappointed, or at least disappointed by the lack of human answer. She does pause as some sense within her works between where he is, and what is dangerous. The fire, more than anything, triggers that caution within her.
Yet, like any beast, thought processes aren't the best, and there is that low growl again that rumbles through the darkness. She shifts, prowling, as if looking for the best angle to attack. ]
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Phoenix tries to go for his spear, but in his panicked rush, he trips over a rock and falls face-first onto the ground.]
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She moves.
Still hampered by her own physical hurts, she isn't at hear top performance, but her clawed hands are still seeking to injure and maim, to find a soft part of the body that will bring him down.]
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T-take that!
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