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

[dustyroad]

[Robots. Always robots. Shelley wasn't sure what he was going to do when he was the type who refused to upgrade his phone until the company threatened to shut off ongoing services.]

Coffee, too-- but with two creams and two sugars.

[he wasn't going to torture himself by risking bad black coffee on top of everything else.]

I'm a detective,

[He added, turning towards the other man while the robot went to work.]

Part of my job is to ask the inconvenient questions.

[The comment was punctuated by a shrug. Detective work also meant that he didn't need to play well with others, which worked out just fine for him.]

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

[The robot slid their coffees over soon enough — and then, of course, chirping a little reminder about the weird banquet, as if they hadn’t just come from there.

Hank tapped the side of his coffee, deeming it fine to hold without scalding his fingers.]

Well, shit.

[He leaned against the coffee truck. Gripping his cup as he stared up at the sky.]

Lotta cops ‘round here, huh?

[Not that that’d make Etraya necessarily better or worse — probably worse, really, if the cops here are anything like the guys at Hank’s precinct.

But still. Nice to find something to relate over besides the whole being kidnapped by robots thing.]

[dustyroad]

No badge, so not a cop.

[He took a sip of his coffee with an appraising look on his face-- and followed it with a second, deeper sip.]

I work privately. It's more flexible, but cops have their place and purpose.

Is there really a lot of cops here?

[bootyshortsforoldmen]

Huh. Well, good for you.

[Hank raised a brow. Sipped his coffee.]

Nice to not be tied to a department’s bullshit, huh? Get to pick your own cases?

[If he hadn’t been flung to whatever hell this is, maybe that’s what Hank would’ve done. Turned in his badge and started his own agency, because hell knew he wasn’t good at anything else.

Maybe he would’ve asked Connor to join him, too.]

Too many. [Another sip of his bitter coffee but it was warm, at least, and hopefully the caffeine would hit soon.] I’m a detective, too.

[dustyroad]

[The commentary earned a a wry chuckle.]

Oh, isn't that the dream?

[Living like Philip Marlow, or someone else from a Humphrey Bogart film, was a pipe dream that was out of everyone's reach anymore.]

Can't be picky if you don't get too many, but I'll take a surveillance gig over starving at this point. It's a lot of long nights and time alone, nothing glamorous.

[But he grinned-- it was good to be with a crowd that at least understood. ]

... Is there at least a coffee joint or a poker night everyone hangs out at? I can't imagine there's that many adulterous spouses to follow around here.