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

[redsquares]

[Waddle they go. They make it to a cupboard and James opens it. Very slowly, though, almost as if he's expecting a surprise to stumble out. (Kittens. He's wary about kittens.)

He replies as he peers in, carefully.]

Do you mean with the whole world-destroying or world-saving aspect? I don't know. Maybe if you're a good cook, it's somehow a judge of your moral character.

[That was wry. But also. It would explain why he isn't anything special in the kitchen.]

[reapoman]

[ It seems they’ve had enough shenanigans for the moment, because the cupboards are blessedly normal. Nothing flies out to stick to the pot, either. ]

Yeah, that’s definitely not how that works.

[ Ivan’s decent around the kitchen. But as a person? Nah. ]

On the other hand, this might be how I’d expect a strange, alien entity to pass judgment. Who knows?

[redsquares]

[Unearths some garlic salt and pepper, maybe some— Hell, he doesn't know. Ground cumin? Sure. He offers a few bottles to Ivan.

Almost idly, trying to figure out how to make all this work-]

Are you an expert on how judgment is usually passed or something?

[reapoman]

No.

[ Judgement isn't his department.

He takes the offered spices and glances around for a table or something to put their. Uh. Creation on. ]

I read a lot, though. There's something kind of Douglas Adams about this whole thing.

[redsquares]

[There's a baking pan nearby. That'll probably work just fine, though honestly, sticking the pot in the oven the way it is—with vegetables stuck to it—will likely produce the same result.

He reaches in deep for some olive oil, voice muffled. At least it's not a gross hole.]

Hitchhiker's Guide?

[reapoman]

[ And then a bunch of bugs start crawling out of the cupboard— no. ]

That's right. This feels like the sort of cosmic joke he'd write.

[redsquares]

[and james would casually just keep his arm in there anyway--]

Yeah, well. If this is some joke, I'm waiting for the punchline. I just got finished with...

[How does one even encapsulate in words what he went through? Does he even want to? He doesn't really know this man, but he doesn't know anyone here. (He thinks.)]

...a really difficult situation. I was hoping for a break.

[He doesn't truly believe that, though. He doesn't deserve anything like it. Maybe this—whatever it is—makes sense for James Sunderland, and he should just resign himself to it.]

[reapoman]

Mm. Sorry to hear it.

[ As far as Ivan is concerned, this could be a break. Is he required to keep working even worlds away from home? How does Death feel about its favorite errand boy being chosen as a representative for their whole world? ]

I'm curious about the rest of this place. I got pulled into all this before I could look around.

[redsquares]

[If this is a break for Ivan, then he must be in a really terrible spot. (And we know he is.) James finally gathers up what he's looking for and closes the cupboard, then glances over at the other man apologetically.]

Me too. What a way to roll out the welcome wagon for newcomers.

[Er. He gestures so that they can return to the pot and... just pour all this stuff on the veggies, he guesses. Waddle waddle time, fellows.]

Do you... want to look around together when we're done with this mess? We might not have a choice, anyway, depending on how long our legs are tied up.

[reapoman]

[ Waddle, waddle. They seem to be finding some sort of groove in this impromptu three-legged race, at the very least. It's a bit less awkward than it was at the start.

For whatever that might be worth. ]

Sure. I was planning on throwing something together quickly anyway, so I can get out of here.

[redsquares]

Not much quicker than throwing vegetables in the oven.

[James is no cook, but he knows his way around the kitchen at a very basic level. For now, it's time to season once they arrive at the counter again and get everything situated.]

Okay, so... let's just pour some oil on and season it.

[Both he and Ivan can work on this awful creation for a few minutes. What they'll ultimately produce is an oily assemblage of vegetables stuck to a pot, shining with various spices peppered atop it. It's like the world's worst cake-shaped dish.]

Uhm.

[Oh this looks terrible. It's technically not that bad, ingredients-wise; it's just.........the presentation........]

[reapoman]

[ Yeah, he's picking up on the way this whole thing looks like some kind of alien veggie monster attached to a pot. ]

... We can say it's modern art.

[redsquares]

[Closes his eyes.]

Yeah, sure. Maybe that'll gain us an extra few points in the judging portion.

[He doesn't know about Ivan, though, but James is quite ready to just stick this in the oven and be done with it.]

[reapoman]

[ They're of the same mind, because Ivan lifts his end of their creation to shuffle it over to the oven. ]

Whatever the judging portion might actually be.

[ More nonsense, is his guess. ]

[redsquares]

[He moves alongside him, careful to keep in step so they don't stumble and make their creation clatter to the floor. What a tragedy that would be.]

That's a problem for future us. Right now...

[Here they are. He reaches and opens the oven door with a free hand, carefully, carefully... Someone else has already pre-heated it, so in it goes, and James sets a timer.]

Do you think we can sneak off while we wait for it to roast?

[reapoman]

[ Into the oven their amalgamation goes. Ivan takes a hobbling step back, glancing around for more of those weird little robots. ]

Probably. Are you suggesting a three-legged race around town?

[redsquares]

[DON'T SAY IT LIKE THAT, IT MAKES IT SOUND STUPID--]

It's either that or stand around and hope nothing else disastrous happens in the kitchen. Maybe our legs will untie themselves from each other eventually if we wander off far enough.

[reapoman]

[ WELL HOW ELSE IS HE SUPPOSED TO SAY IT!! ]

I guess there's only one way to find out. Let's go, before the robots come back to check on us.

[redsquares]

All right, this way.

[James is going to lead them through what he hopes is a distraction: some other poor soul whose attempt to slice up a tomato is making the food item embiggen to a ridiculous size, swelling up big enough to rival the height of the counters. If they sneak past and behind them, through the door towards the nearest exit out of here, they can surely manage it.

Even if they're three-legged-sack-racing their way out.]