TDM 005

[etrayamods]

⏵ arrival ⏴ Arrival goes as anticipated. Characters awaken in a sterile hospital bed in a clean, white room to the hum of machines under the unnatural lighting common to well-kept institutions. Every bit was designed to be comforting and calming, even with the jarring undercurrent of this situation. The first face they see is Aurora's: her smile appears to be warm, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. She might offer a quick explanation, or leave characters to figure it out for themselves depending on their approach. The door to the room swings open, revealing a hallway that stretches out ahead of them. There’s noise from outside and strong pumpkin spice scents coming from the lobby. Ah, muffins and tea. Grab one and head into the crisp, sunny fall morning ahead. ⏵ potluck ⏴ Cutthroat Iron Etrayan Bake-Off As you step out of the arrival holding area into the main thoroughfare, the entire street has been turned into tents and chef stations to accommodate the activities of thirty people at once. There’s seats, trailers, and robots bustling about to make sure everyone is ready. A couple of cheerful robots in aprons and colorful sweaters approach and redirect you as you step towards the cooking area. There’s gas ranges, ovens, grills, blast chillers, mixers, and set walk-ins and pantries with just about every ingredient you can imagine. There are cameramen (also robots) patrolling the area to capture all your best moments and to broadcast them directly to your fellow citizens’ devices. Your instruction? “Make your signature dish. You have one hour, chef.” It can’t just be straightforward, can it? The land itself is held together with pure chaotic energy. If you’re lucky, all goes as planned. If you aren’t… well… Roll a Die 1 Your leg is now tied to another chef’s 2 Your meal is continually un-cooking itself. 3 All of your ingredients are pickled now 4 The longer you touch an ingredient, the bigger it gets. 5 Every time you lift your pot lid, a component changes. 6 The aromatics are glowing and flashing like LED lights. 7 Your knife has been replaced with a cheese grater. 8 The ingredients are now magnetically stuck together. 9 Your meal is becoming deep fried. 10 Kittens are multiplying out of the cupboard. * 11 All of your ingredients have become incredibly heavy. 12 Your cook pot moves burners whenever you turn around. 13 Eggs scream when you crack them 14 The kitchen has become incredibly slippery. 15 It’s soup now. 16 All utensils have been replaced with crustaceans. ** 17 Your knife has a mind of its own. Watch out! 18 Your fridge catches fire. 19 Your pasta is trying to escape. Go get it. 20 Any ingredient not in the pot starts to float away. * All kittens disappear at the end. ** These however, stay. ⏵ share a meal ⏴ As all the cooking concludes, you will be invited to plate your meal into one of many casserole dishes, regardless of what was made. A ladle will be tucked into the corner and placed on the table with a folded bit of cardstock declaring the chef’s name and the name of the dish. A helper camerabot will come around to each participant and ask for their thinking and their process. Even if you got away without having to cook, even looking towards the table of dishes will spur a helper bot to start making you a plate with one of everything. The helperbot will insist that it is rude to not at least try what their peers have made. In fact, if you are to fill out the score card for each person, you really must taste everything! The robots can’t try the food, so it’s up to you. The cards look like so. The grading system is opaque. Is it meant to be numbers? Stars? Letter grades? Well, you’re the judge. You figure it out. Chef: ___________ Dish:_____________ Judge:___________ Overall Rating:_______ Flavor Presentation Stackability Wet Originality Rizz ⏵ tummy ache survivor ⏴ No matter how well your compatriots cooked or baked their dishes, there are… factors. You see that carrot? It’s really just condensed chaos in the shape of a carrot. No matter how powerful you are, these particular ingredients may not mesh with your being. …And even if it is truly a carrot, do all the chefs know the proper cooking temperature of chicken? Even chickens are aliens to many. (Optional) Roll a Die 1 Tummy Ache. Go lay in bed. Complaining alleviates symptoms. 2 That plate of food has energized you. You feel compelled to race or spar. 3 The food has reminded you of home. You must tell someone a detail of your childhood. 4 That food was so horrible that it simply must be washed out somehow. Spicy peppers? Booze? Gravel??? You’re going to over do it. 5 You have now discovered your new favorite dish. Make them teach it to you or you’ll lose sleep over it. This is all you want to eat for the next week. 6 The oddity of the ingredients has transferred to you. You start floating away. 7 The range of food and textures have inspired you. Acquire an annoying new hobby or habit. 8 You are now haunted by the digital souls of chickens. ⏵ NOTES ⏴ Please direct all questions to our mod queries comment! ⏵FULL NAVIGATION⏴

Comments

[this_ismydesign]

It is a good assumption on her part, but probably more like he's 70% avoiding being sociable, and 30% avoiding the food.

His lips twitch up in an amused expression at her words. Apologies in advance, but he's not going to explain the source of his amusement. "I tend to avoid eating foods when I am not well acquainted with the chef."

He won't say he only eats his own cooking, or is a strict vegetarian, or any of that detail. He knows what is possibly on order when sitting at Hannibal's table, and takes eating the fare on offer as a case by case.

"Could you point me in the direction of ..." he searches for the right word, eventually giving up with a small, inward shrug. "Where am I expected to go, at this point?"

[maoa]

There’s any number of reasons why someone would be wary of the food in this place, especially if they’re used to a particular diet. Which isn’t even counting the post about a dinner party that ended up serving somebody to themself and several others she’d seen on the network recently (she’s met Hannibal, incidentally, but hadn’t been in attendance).

“Sure. There’s an apartment building they have set up for newer arrivals, but I think there are people who have their own places outside of it.” She’s still new enough to not really understand how that works, but she also doesn’t need much and the apartments are a way better habitation than the hospital.

Sam gestures with her cup out the door. “I can walk you to it, if you’d like.”

[this_ismydesign]

When (or if) he learns about the dinner party, Will is going to look resigned, but perhaps also wryly amused. Hannibal gonna Hannibal, even in a whole new dimension. There was an odd comfort in some things never changing.

But for the time being, he is ignorant of what went down.

In regards to her offer, Will weighs his options. He is not a sociable person by any stretch of the imagination, and now that he knows what to look for, he could probably find it on his own. On the other hands, having someone talking and interacting with him, helps him keep his feral imagination from running rampant.

Deciding that mental stability (however brief) outweighs anti-social urges, he gives Sam a small nod and an upward twitch of his lips.

"I'd appreciate the escort. Help me avoid making a wrong turn and ending up surrounded by more of ..." a hand waggles back towards the helper and camera 'bots.

[maoa]

Evidently so, though Sam's experience with him has so far been limited to him trying to talk her through seeing visions of Billy. She's less familiar with the darker parts of what he's capable of.

Sam nods to Will, leading the way towards the door and pushing and holding it open with her free hand so he can walk through it and she can follow him outside.

"Like I said, they mean well." At least in her experience, so far. But she's seen Terminator. "But they don't always pick up on how people respond to what they're trying to do."

[this_ismydesign]

"They're machines," Will said softly, giving her a half nod of gratitude as he stepped through the door. Once through the door, he began to look around and study the interior of the building. His tone became a bit distracted as he finished his thought aloud.

"They follow their programing. No empathy, no imagination," as he spoke, he made a full three sixty turn, which left him facing her and his eyes returned to her face. "There is something enviable about that."

Apologies, Sam. Someone is embracing his cryptic side.

"Do we check in with the desk?" He's still thinking in terms of Earth morals, and tentatively wondering how recompense for living space will work.

apologies if i'm wrong on any details!

[maoa]

That earns Will a quizzical look, but then Sam's been working very hard to be better for the people in her life. She can't say it wasn't easier on some level when she cared less about people and their opinions, but she'd rather have her sister in her life than out of it and being less selfish and more empathetic to what she needs is a part of that.

"Pretty sure the apartments are up for grabs, first come first serve." At least that's how she hopes it goes, or someone's going to be pissed if they were already living in the one she's been occupying. "I think I heard they expand as more people arrive."

Looks great to me!!

[this_ismydesign]

Her response earns her direct eye contact, and two raised eyebrows. For the first time, his facial expression suggests that he might, might be capable of a sense of humor.

"Sounds generous, ominous, and the seeds to sow chaos all neatly wrapped up with a bow on top," he remarks. Definitely amused.

Setting his hands on his hips, Will takes a moment to accept the fact that he is going to have to share walls with strangers. Even the dark, stone hole he'd been dumped in back in Baltimore, he'd been in solitary.

It'd been peaceful at least.

[maoa]

If Mindy were here, she’d make comparisons to Bishop or Ash from the Alien series. It doesn’t feel inaccurate based on what she remembers, but Sam is still mindful to keep the thought to herself since it doesn’t feel like a flattering comparison to make. (She does remember liking Bishop, though.)

“Yeah, I’d thought so too,” she agrees with a slightly wider smile once the joke is made. “I think the payment comes in the missions, however those work.”

[this_ismydesign]

"Always a cost," he remarks. Perhaps his initial amusement is a little dampened, but on the whole he accepts how the world ... apparently how the universe works.

"Any advice on which floor is quietest, or least populated?"

Given his choice, he'd stay on the first floor in an end room. But if he has to chose between a secondary escape vs peace and quiet? He'll scale a drain pipe if he has to in order to get the greater privacy.

[maoa]

“I hadn’t really been paying attention to that,” she says, a tad apologetic. “My guess is the ones that are higher up.”

There might be other apartments on the first floor, but she had figured that was an easier opportunity for the bots to barge in if it comes to that and she’d prefer not to be as easily accessible.

“Like I said, I know there are a few people have their own residences, but I’m not sure how you get those yet.”

[this_ismydesign]

"A goal for the future," he says in a resigned tone, answering her latter statement.

He glances towards her, giving her an apologetic, flat lipped smile. He doesn't mean to be a downer, he's still process this whole situation. Once he manages that, he'll start actively planning his next steps.

"Think I'll go see how many floors this building has," he continues, looking for a stairwell. He has a recent history with elevators. "I appreciate your assistance to this point. Please, do not feel you need to continue. I've taken up enough of your time."

He's not being dismissive. Dismissive for Will is either just turning, and rudely walking away without another word, or a door to the face. He is simply trying to express gratitude for her help, and at the same time give her an exit route if she has places to be.

Does he necessarily want a stranger knowing where he's living? No. But that thought reminds him that he's been rude and hasn't offered his name.

"Will, by the way," he offers in what might seem a non-sequitur. "Will Graham."

[maoa]

Sam's not exactly what can be described as anti-social, but she's not about to force someone who's clearly not interested in socializing in continuing to, especially when he's a new arrival and had already seemed stressed when he'd nearly knocked into her. It's not something she's going to take personally. She nods to him, a small smile on her face before she starts to depart for the elevator, but she pauses when she hears him stop and offer his name.

"Sam. Carpenter." She nods to him again. "Be safe out there."

[this_ismydesign]

A neon sign proclaiming 'anti-social' would be hanging over Will's head, most of the time. It certainly isn't anything personal, and in an attempt to convey that, he responds with a small, but sincere smile.

"Thank you, Sam." He says softly. "I appreciate your patience," she really would have been forgiven at staying angry with him for his running into her. "I ... hope to see you around."

Yes, those last few words are about as awkward as they sound. He's not exactly trying to flirt, he's just so very bad at small talk. Seriously, children in Kindergarten have better small talk skills.

[maoa]

However awkward he is, Sam rolls with it, nodding to him with another smile as the elevator dings its arrival. It's honestly a much more pleasant interaction than most of the ones she's had over the past year or so; people are usually accusing her of murder if they're not trying to kill her.

"You, too. I'm on the fourth floor if you need anything."