Everything is normal today during the early hours of the morning. There's really no hint, no way of knowing, no anything that could indicate that CERES -- and thus Cerealia -- is about to irrevocably change. There would be birds chirping, if there were birds, but since there aren't any, there's just the constant sounds of a city in motion, humming with technology even that early in the morning.
And then, regardless of where you are or what you're doing or how early it is, everyone's CereVices flicker on to show a perhaps-familiar, perhaps-unfamiliar face.
Bellona Recreare, the business owner of Cerealia and CEO of CERES, stares at everyone with a flat, cold look. She doesn't seem happy.
(When is she ever?)  It has come to my attention that there has been industrial espionage and corporate sabotage in CERES' personnel. Such a thing will not be tolerated.
Due to this, Mosley's employment with CERES has been terminated. Please now direct any public relations questions to 1-800-7322934844444.
Good day.
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PHASE I [ 6 00 ] Bright and early, not long after that sudden announcement by Bellona, you may decide to go back to sleep, or you may decide to get up and go about your day (or you may not have woken up at all).
Either way, it doesn't matter.
Because your apartment is broken.
The entire apartment. The door is locked shut (and that sucker is solid metal so it might be time to try a window), the HOLO(gm) is flickering wildly between settings, and the blender is out for your blood. Anything technological in any way (that is CERES-brand or has been tampered with by CERES) will be malfunctioning in a way that comes across as... oddly malicious.
Now's a bad time for the late sleepers to realize that the beds, too, have auto-control tech functionality. Hope you enjoy that electroshock wake up call, or the fact that the bed could fling you totally across the room.
PHASE II [ 1000 ] The rest of the city isn't faring so well either.
The trains are completely out of commission; even if the doors do open, it's probably not a good idea to get on. If you do, it looks like the doors will slam shut behind you, and the train will go hurtling forward at dangerous speeds with sudden stops. Many of the shops can't be accessed at all, automated doors refusing to open, and worst of all, every single last piece of tech in Cerealia now seems to have the sole goal of Making Your Life Hard.
The Pleasure District is flooded now that the spas are broken, but hey -- at least the perfume ensures that water smells good, and it's pretty warm. That's good, right? Maybe go for a nice swim.
The CERES police bots are out of control, chasing people down to arrest them for imagined crimes (What do you mean you aren't a closet voyeur?), and heaven forbid you're around any of the auto shops when everything goes totally wrong. The auto-drive feature in many of CERES's cars seem to be a little... finicky today. It doesn't seem like anywhere in the city is exempt from this. Good luck.
And towards the end of the second day of this insanity, the train, with whatever unfortunate passengers are on it, will derail. It crashes into part of the shopping district, leveling buildings and leaving the wrecked overturn husk of a train resting there uselessly.
Suddenly, things don't seem so harmless anymore.
PHASE III [ 1100 ] Of course... you're CERES-owned too.
Your code, rather, is made and owned by CERES, and it's inevitable with the craziness going on that it would soon affect everyone's code as well. So as the hour approaches noon, a few unlucky souls may start to notice that things are just Not Quite Right with them. Their powers may be on the fritz, functioning entirely wrong or not at all, or even stranger -- fire powers turning into water, ice into flame, electricity brings mud. Your clothing might suddenly change when your coding glitches, or it might be gone entirely. You may suddenly have an uncontrollable urge to start singing, or frolicking. You may suddenly be wildly in love with the first person (or robot or mirror) that you see, unable to stop it until the odd glitching wears off.
And then, just like that, you're back to normal, if a bit more tired than before. How troublesome.
There are also moments where what appears to be an ID number appears on the back of your neck in glowing light blue numbers. Each of these codes is a 7 digit number, with an E at the front of the number. It appears that the longer you've been in Cerealia, the lower the number is -- like a brand of some sort. You may not be able to see it yourself with it on the back of your neck like that, but everyone else sure can.
PHASE IV [ 1645 ] And, just like that, on the last day of this madness, the city goes dark. The lights cut out. The technology shuts off. Every last robot in Cerealia is completely and totally down, and can no longer be booted up. Even when the lights come back on in a few hours... the robots remain dead.
Cerealia's a lot harder to function in without those handy dandy robots running the place. It's also a lot more desolate, and rather quiet.
Slowly but surely, the rest of the technology will boot itself back up towards the end of the last day. But the robots remain broken, and cannot be fixed. In fact, opening them up will reveal that nothing's wrong with them at all... they just won't wake up.
As time ticks by, it doesn't look like Bellona will address anything on the network about the events and all people are left to do now is... learn how to function again. Without any help.
BONUS [ ???? ] If you were a stupid brave enough soul to log into ViViD during this time (or were unfortunately glitched there, which could happen), you will find that ViViD is in... safe mode. It's struggling to boot up, and even when you finally enter, you'll find yourself wandering through skeleton levels of half-completed scenery and incomplete quests. There are readings in the corner of each level that can be seen now, one about Energy Gain and one about Energy Loss, and just as the gain goes up the longer you are there, the loss, too, rises. At first, it's fascinating, and it isn't particularly dangerous... but then it becomes clear that you can't actually log out.
You can't exit Safe Mode at all.
Slowly, it feels as though you can breathe less and less, that the empty walls of the level are closing in on you... and there's nothing you can do. Unless you are or find a particularly genius hacker and they can access the source code and find the exit buried inside that code within the next few minutes... there's nothing to be done.
And then everything goes dark.
You'll wake up the next IC day, with those same energy readings marked on your wrist like some sort of bright blue digital tattoo. When you wake in the mornings, it will read at 100% and slowly go down during the course of the day until you sleep. It will fade after three IC days.
And from now on, ViViD always has those energy levels in the corner, even when it's fixed. They always seem to be recording you, every time you're in ViViD. Strange.
[ 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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[ Good man. She'll push herself to her feet as well, and reach out to steady him if he looks like he even remotely needs the support. ]
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[Considering it only takes a step and/or a few moments before his body decides that nope, it's not ready for this and he nearly collapses... yeah, he's going to need the support.
... This is kind of embarrassing, but he supposes he'll have to put up with it.]
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[ Please forgive her for having to wrap one arm around his waist to hold him upright, she knows this is a whole lot of personal space invasion. ]
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Thanks... Sorry for the hassle. I know you've gotta have other work to do...
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[ This is totally a tone of admonishment, even as she works very valiantly to haul him-- well, elsewhere. Her apartment's got a couch, at least. ]
Did you plan specifically to collapse somewhere secluded and have me find and help you?
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No, but...
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[ YES, THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS. ]
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[He sighs.]
All right, I get it, I get it... You won't let me apologize...
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... Oh.
[ And Otome's expression takes on a tinge of dismay, because that sure is an automated food cart barreling towards them. ]
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SO.
... If nothing else, he tries to shove Otome away??]
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Except apparently it is, because Otome wasn't ready to get shoved, so whoops, she's hitting the ground a likely-safe distance away, but um.
Her patient?? The cart?! ]
Karl!!
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It's utilizing every bit of effort he has in his state, but he jumps, both to ideally not get hit at all and, if he does, to minimize the brunt of the impact. The first part doesn't quite work out, but all things considered, it could be worse. The cart hits his leg, meaning that in the immediate aftermath, he's kind of lying on the ground (but hey, that's not too different from his previous state)—still, he's pretty sure it's not broken or anything, and he's not dead, and Otome's not dead, so success??
... Except he suspects that Otome is not going to be too happy with him, and that possibility is actually kind of terrifying—]
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... Otome is a nice person, normally. Really, it's what she's known for. But there is a reason Fumi knows better than to make her angry, and as the cart rolls forward again, she reaches in her pocket for her cellphone.
All she really does is hold out the phone. But the power that crackles forth seems to come from both the device and Otome herself, a white-purple swirling light that descends from the sky and slams into the cart with a blinding force.
... And that cart will no longer be moving, now reduced to broken bits as Otome takes a deep, steadying breath and crouches beside Karl to look him over. In absolute silence, because she'd like to get that initial anger out of her system before she says anything.
At least her touch is gentle when she reaches out, and it doesn't seem like she's mad at him. ]
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Thanks... Haha, I guess I owe you one...
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[ She's not too happy about that, but she only sighs a little before she focuses and a glowing golden light seeps into him. If nothing else, it ought to heal any physical wound, which should help with the sitting. ]
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Uh... well, I'm glad it worked!
[Seeing as how Otome's not outwardly angry, he's trying to keep it that way, so forgive any awkwardness on his part.]
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[ Time to help him up again. She'll be more prepared next time. ]
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[And up they go again! Similarly, he'll be trying to pay more attention to his Impiety Orb (as difficult as that is with his head swimming) in hopes that its disaster-detecting function can help them if this occurs again.
... He's already been hit twice by something since this started, and he'd rather not find out if third time's the charm.]
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[ Like she can talk. But she's better off right now, and at least finally making some progress toward her apartment. Which has a sealed door.
Won't this be fun. ]
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[Stupid glitching body.
... And stupid glitching door, because oh dear.]
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[ How many times would Otome have gotten soaked if he'd tried, is the real question here. But at least they'll make it to her apartment!!
... Yep, that door is sealed, and not opening for nobody. ]
... Maybe we should have tried the window.
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... Well, that's how I got out of my place, but... to be honest, I don't think your door's gonna be functional for a while.
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[ She's maybe a little grumpy. ]
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[In what he figures to be a futile attempt, seeing as how it's not like he has a magic touch, he reaches out to try and open the door.
Suffice to say, it doesn't work.
... In fact, it especially doesn't work, because he really should've taken into account his glitching—glitching that, as he touches the door, causes him to accidentally freeze it instead.]
... Um...
[NOW IT'S DEFINITELY SEALED.]
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[ Deep breath, Otome. ]
Well, the hallway at least has carpet...
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