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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 9:57:03 GMT -5
Post by Spinister on Mar 17, 2011 9:57:03 GMT -5
Month 2, Week 2, Day 3, open
Any number of 'cons will awaken to find themselves a bit groggy and disoriented, even a touch woozy and cold in a perfect cube of a room. The gravity is normal, the air is within the appropriate range to support a Nebulan if a touch chilly and high on nitrogen, and there is absolutely no sign of any of how them ended up here.
There is a door on each face of the cube, including the floor and the ceiling. There may be other details, if they examine more closely. Their radios work to anyone else inside, but they don't seem to pick up any of the broadband or reach anyone else. No one seems damaged.
Good luck.
OOC: This is one part training exercise, one part Spinister is a bored Mayhem who thinks people's teamwork and survival skills need some work. Feel free to join and 'wake up' any time in the first three rounds. No one knows how they got here or why. Last thing anyone will remember is, in fact, settling down for a rest.
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Counterpunch
Minor
The Overlord, His Peerless Highness, Arch Duke Counterpunch. The Salient Vanquisher of His Own Mind
What're you looking at?
Posts: 419
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 12:31:37 GMT -5
Post by Counterpunch on Mar 17, 2011 12:31:37 GMT -5
One of that number of 'Cons waking up is Counterpunch.
Counterpunch is paranoid at the best of times, but this? This does not make him happy at all.
He's on his feet instantly, and since he is one to take a close look at his surroundings, is immediately surveying the room, both the layout and the occupents.
The first words out of his vocalizer are simple, and directed at the other occupents in a growl.
"Which one of you did this?"
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 14:12:57 GMT -5
Post by Turmoil on Mar 17, 2011 14:12:57 GMT -5
Turmoil fought down the wooziness and simply laid still on the floor when he awoke. Despite the disorientation, he could tell he wasn't in his berth. In situations like this, it was best to simply wait for someone to draw attention to themselves before making a move. As soon as Counterpunch speaks, Turmoil rises to his full height slowly and looks about at his fellow, prone, occupants.
"None of us it would appear," Turmoil states, "Unless they drugged themselves as well."
Of course Turmoil is pissed, but he keeps his anger on the back burner for now. There is work to be done. He first approaches the door to his right. He examines it thoroughly before moving to the wall surrounding it, tapping it a few times.
"More than likely this is a test or a very poor practical joke," he surmises as he moves back to the center of the room, "The room's unique lay-out speaks for itself."
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Duskwing
Major
"What the slag happened?"
Posts: 848
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 14:29:12 GMT -5
Post by Duskwing on Mar 17, 2011 14:29:12 GMT -5
Duskwing wakes up groaning. "Slag, where the smelt did I get dat much half-burnt motor oil to tie one on wit', and not remember a fragged thing? Counterpunch, stuff it up yer grill, willya?"
The dark blue and purple Seeker glares vaguely at Turmoil. "Who the frag are you again, newb?"
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 15:38:44 GMT -5
Post by Rook on Mar 17, 2011 15:38:44 GMT -5
Rook, who slept in beast mode for whatever reason, stretches his neck and wings as he wakes up, blinks twice, and takes in his surroundings. "What in the Pit is going on here?" he asks, glancing around at the other Transformers present as if one of them is going to magically figure this out. When no-one comes up with a satisfactory answer, he flutters up to examine the door on the ceiling.
"Someone is playing silly buggers," the crow opines.
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 18:05:33 GMT -5
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 17, 2011 18:05:33 GMT -5
Phobia had almost never had a more restful sleep. It was the first sign of things being very, very wrong.
He snaps wide awake, processor scrambling to make up for the lost time. There is a small whine of his vents kicking on in panic, but he immediately shuts them off and shunts energy to the rest of his sensors. People; not the same presence as his roommates, but not hostile. Then the voices: three familiar and one complete stranger so far. After that, the bike finds himself peering up at an unfamiliar ceiling.
“Oh gosh,” he says after a moment of choking down on any immediate panic.
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Misfire
Minor
The Chamberlain, His Incomparable Immensity, Emperor Misfire. The Accidental Butcher of Anyone He Wasn't Aiming At
Improving. Honest!
Posts: 449
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Cubed
Mar 17, 2011 21:38:20 GMT -5
Post by Misfire on Mar 17, 2011 21:38:20 GMT -5
Misfire is awake but pretending to still be out as he listens to those who are waking. So, he's been dropped somewhere random, after doing something ordinary, and he's with a bunch of random people.
So... a relative repeat of the average arrival, but in a controlled setting.
He makes a quick count. Rook- member of command, relatively unknown. Counterpunch- proven hothead. Phobia- skittish unknown. Duskwing- proven idiot hothead. New guy... Turmoil? Misfire isn't sure what reality he's from. Possibly others, either still out or pretending.
And Misfire- proven intelligent, proven liability.
Test.
He rolls onto his knees. Hmm. He is on top of a door. It would not be out of the realm of possibility for that door to be booby trapped so that when Misfire moves of it it, things go boom.
Misfire will Check for Traps. He doesn't have a particular skill in that area, but hey, maybe he'll roll well.
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Cubed
Mar 18, 2011 2:25:00 GMT -5
Post by Dustcutter on Mar 18, 2011 2:25:00 GMT -5
Slowly, a little red light came to life on a tiny car mech. For someone who could be stepped on at any moment, Dustcutter was notably lacking in typical Decepticon paranoia, and as such, he slept quite peacefully every night. Hellbender was pretty good as far as room mates went to, good bit of luck that.
He transformed to four legged spider mech mode and stretched out his servos before hi processor hit optimal running speed, “Well this is different, quite different yes, most unusual and peculiar, a bit of a conundrum really.” He looked around at the other confused faces and then at the room they all seemed to share.
Why was Dustcutter here? Why not? He was stupidly easy to kidnap if you could catch him.
OOC: What are the physical properties of the environment, blast proof? Buzzsaw proof? Magnets work on the walls?
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Cubed
Mar 18, 2011 14:19:29 GMT -5
Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Mar 18, 2011 14:19:29 GMT -5
"Shut up!" Bonecrusher snarls as his optics flicker to life. He's gotten used to sleeping alone. Waking up to the grating sound of a bunch of confused voices does not a happy Bonecrusher make.
It makes him even less happy when he stumbles and wobbles as shoves himself to his feet, his head spinning slightly.
The fact that he's in a strange room that he's never seen before and somehow got there while he was asleep is just the angry icing on a great big cake of unhappiness.
"What's going on? Where are we? Somebody better tell me or I'll kill all of you!"
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Cubed
Mar 19, 2011 22:29:56 GMT -5
Post by Spinister on Mar 19, 2011 22:29:56 GMT -5
OOC: You cannot tell at a glance if the walls are blaster-proof, saw-proof, or magnetic. You'll have to try and see what happens.
The wall sounds like a metal wall, common enough almost anywhere, when Turmoil taps it. There doesn't seem to be any extraordinary about the sound.
The door on the ceiling appears much like a generic sliding door. There are no obvious hinges. The style isn't particularly Cybertronian. There is a flat panel off to the side that looks like it could be an 'open' button. All the doors appear to be much the same.
When Misfire rolls off his door and then checks for traps, something interesting happens: little flat panels in the wall slide away, revealing parabolic mirrors. The panels are opening relatively slowly. Whatever could they be for? The room seems to be getting hotter, however.
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Counterpunch
Minor
The Overlord, His Peerless Highness, Arch Duke Counterpunch. The Salient Vanquisher of His Own Mind
What're you looking at?
Posts: 419
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Cubed
Mar 19, 2011 22:58:13 GMT -5
Post by Counterpunch on Mar 19, 2011 22:58:13 GMT -5
"I wouldn't discount the 'drugged themselves' option," Counterpunch grumbles, to Turmoil, then he snarls at Duskwing, "Why don't you try and make me, knock-off."
He ignores the others as he continues to examine the room, but when the mirrors open he grunts. "Someone doesn't want to give us time to think about our options." He moves to the nearest door and, like Misfire, checks for traps. Unlike Misfire, he actually knows what he's doing - in fact, this is very much his field - and doesn't need to use a default skill roll. When he sees that the door is rigged with something1, he narrows his optics, then removes what looks like a hand-full of junk from subspace. It is, in fact, a hand-full of junk, but it's junk that's been re-purposed to work as lock-picks and other, related tools. He gets to work attempting to disarm whatever it is he's found, leaving the others to sort out the 'whodunits', though he certainly listens carefully to what they have to say.
1 Checked with Spinister's player.
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Cubed
Mar 20, 2011 14:50:03 GMT -5
Post by Turmoil on Mar 20, 2011 14:50:03 GMT -5
Turmoil sighed inwardly at many things. Duskwing's brashness, Bonecrusher's pointless anger, and the fact that they all seemed to be caught in a death trap. The only one who seemed at home in this strange new situation was Counterpunch, and Turmoil made a note of that.
"Turmoil," the very tall tank-former answered Duskwing as he inspected the wall mirrors. If worse came to worse, he'd use his cannon to make an exit for them to escape to another room. Without further information, that option could get them all killed.
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Duskwing
Major
"What the slag happened?"
Posts: 848
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Cubed
Mar 20, 2011 20:28:16 GMT -5
Post by Duskwing on Mar 20, 2011 20:28:16 GMT -5
Duskwing favors Counterpunch with a glare. "Maybe I oughta," he says perfunctorily, like it's all part of the standard greeting ritual, then he ignores the other Con for the moment.
His attention switches to Turmoil. Duskwing is a classic Seeker; in robot-mode, he's one of the taller standard Decepticon types. "Yeah? Huh. Where you from? You look kinda Tarnish."
Rook's comment gets acknowledged with a shake of Duskwing's head. "Yeah? Well I don't remember signin' up for that sim. Whoever turned it on can just turn it off and let me out. I got watches to stand." Because, obviously, 'Silly Buggers' is a game, isn't it?
Misfire and CP are dorking around with the doors--Counterpunch can pick locks? Duskwing looks a bit more closely at Counterpunch, with some newfound respect. "Hey, can you do dat to any door?"
And then sliding panels open up revealing what look suspiciously like the focusing elements of some kind of weapon. Ruh-roh. That can't be good.
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Cubed
Mar 20, 2011 22:23:41 GMT -5
Post by Rook on Mar 20, 2011 22:23:41 GMT -5
Rook debates pressing the button next to the door on the ceiling. He'd like to think it couldn't make things any worse, what with the room being revealed to be some sort of giant oven. Unfortunately he can think of several ways pressing the button could make things worse off the top of his head.
So he doesn't press the button. Instead he transforms and alights on Counterpunch's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do to assist? I have some small skill in this area and my fingers are smaller than yours."
When Duskwing opens his stupid mouth, Rook snaps. "This isn't a game, no one signed you up for a-" He blinks. "Computer, terminate simulation!"
Ship's plans don't include any perfectly cubical rooms with doors on each face, at least not that Rook has noticed. Not that they're necessarily aboard Ship anymore. Not to mention, if he, Rook, wished to dispose of some unwanted enemies via an unfortunate accident in the hard-light room, he'd disable any ability to deactivate the chamber from the inside. It doesn't hurt to cover all the bases, though.
OOC: Perching with permission.
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Cubed
Mar 23, 2011 1:44:07 GMT -5
Post by Dustcutter on Mar 23, 2011 1:44:07 GMT -5
OOC: Skipping Misfire and Phobia due to timing out
Being the smallest meant Dustcutter probably had the greatest surface area to mass ratio, being ‘bladey’ only increased this. He couldn’t speak for the others but he was already noticing the increase in room temperature, looking at the unfurling mirrors, the conclusion was obvious, “destroy those mirrors, or else we all melt and burn and become slag. Not good, not good at all”. For his worth, he pounces over to them and begins hacking away with both buzzsaws screaming their righteous fury an anything larger than he.
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