Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 2: Infinity Express)
10-29-2010, 01:06 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by GreyGabe.
Marcus passed through a short connecting hallway to the next car. He found himself in what looked to be a dining car, complete with a lightly stocked bar. There were only a few patrons, eating greasy food and drinking beverages that Marcus assumed to be beer equivalents. Their attention was directed to a small view screen mounted on the wall. It seemed to be showing some sort of sport involving a number of large persons chasing a ball around a large spherical stadium, riding some sort of small, floating platforms and swinging what looked to be large clubs at one another. Marcus stopped to watch for a moment, reflecting that the bar patrons might be somewhat upset when they awakened to find they had missed a large portion of the game. He couldn’t really tell, but he thought the ones in the blue shirts were winning. Marcus returned to his examination of the room.
At one end of the bar, a smallish creature with one-too-many teeth was frozen in mid-bite, eating something that looked… not very thoroughly cooked, to say the least. The bartender/cook was standing next to some sort of cooking implement, watching through the small window at something that had already finished cooking, from the looks of things. Marcus also noted with distaste that the bartender was using his fourth arm to scratch himself. I don’t think I’ll be eating here…
Away from the others sat a young woman with no discernable facial features aside from a mouth. Marcus stepped a little closer, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease. On the table before her stood a spherical glass of water, secured to the table somehow and sealed with a lid. Her posture was ramrod straight, one arm extended stiffly to scribble on a napkin with a pen. Leaning forward a bit, Marcus found that she was writing. “Free me kill me free me kill me free me kill me…” Over and over again it repeated, in tiny, perfectly neat lettering. Hmm. That’s cheerful.
Marcus turned and began moving towards the exit. He’d had quite enough of this particular location. He limped to the door, listening for a second before opening it. He opened it, aiming his shotgun down the corridor. The door on the opposite end was probably very intimidated. He moved on, cautiously entering the next car. Aha! This looked useful. At first glance it looked to be a regular passenger car, until he noticed the displays embedded in the back of each chair at about torso-height. Most of the chairs were filled, and the passengers were almost all manipulating the displays in some way, be it with claws, hands, tentacles, or… um… whatever that was. Marcus wasn’t quite sure, and wasn’t going to take a closer look.
He limped over to one open seat bordering the aisle, and sat down. Glad to have the weight off of his leg, he took a closer look at the screen. Currently it displayed a list of what looked to be languages. Most of the symbols on the screen were completely incomprehensible. Touching the screen, he found he could scroll up and down. Finally, he found some languages printed in letters that looked vaguely familiar, which he thought were old-earth languages. He scrolled down through them until he found something he could actually read. “Galactic common?” Well, they got the name wrong, but that’s definitely ImpCom. Let’s take a look.
He tapped it, and the screen showed a welcome screen.
“Welcome, BUSINESS CLASS PREMIUM traveler! Thank you for choosing Infinity Express, the only choice for trans-dimensional transportation! We hope you are enjoying your trip today, whether it’s a regular commute or a well-earned vacation!
The tip of the day is: Don’t forget to buckle your seat-belt!
Please select an option from the following list:
1) Stop Schedule
2) Infinity Express Map
3) Services
4) Call Attendant
5) Comments and Criticism
6) OverNet
7) Log Out”
Marcus examined his options for a moment, ignoring the overly cheery tone of the greeting. On a whim, he tapped OverNet. Nothing. Call attendant. Negative. Stop Schedule? The screen displayed a blank table. He went back to the main menu and selected map. He had been expecting a map of the route, but was instead treated to a layout of the train. Hmm. According to the little “You Are Here!” dot, he was still fairly far back on the train. Some of the labels were somewhat surprising, with cars such as “Ballroom” and “Library” and “The Void Lounge” being just a few. He looked for anything really fun, like a security room or perhaps an armory. If there were any on the train, they weren’t listed on the map. He didn’t see anything that looked like a medical car or what have you, though a few cars were labeled as having first-aid stations (which seemed prudent, considering the sharp turns the train seemed to make occasionally.)
Marcus logged out, reluctantly standing up once more. His leg wasn’t getting any better, and that chair was really comfortable. Grumbling under his breath he began moving towards the exit, Marcus was caught off guard as the train made a sharp turn upward. He was knocked off of his feet, which did nothing to improve his demeanor. He got up, grimacing as he used his bad leg. He moved to the door, opened it, and moved on.
Marcus passed through a short connecting hallway to the next car. He found himself in what looked to be a dining car, complete with a lightly stocked bar. There were only a few patrons, eating greasy food and drinking beverages that Marcus assumed to be beer equivalents. Their attention was directed to a small view screen mounted on the wall. It seemed to be showing some sort of sport involving a number of large persons chasing a ball around a large spherical stadium, riding some sort of small, floating platforms and swinging what looked to be large clubs at one another. Marcus stopped to watch for a moment, reflecting that the bar patrons might be somewhat upset when they awakened to find they had missed a large portion of the game. He couldn’t really tell, but he thought the ones in the blue shirts were winning. Marcus returned to his examination of the room.
At one end of the bar, a smallish creature with one-too-many teeth was frozen in mid-bite, eating something that looked… not very thoroughly cooked, to say the least. The bartender/cook was standing next to some sort of cooking implement, watching through the small window at something that had already finished cooking, from the looks of things. Marcus also noted with distaste that the bartender was using his fourth arm to scratch himself. I don’t think I’ll be eating here…
Away from the others sat a young woman with no discernable facial features aside from a mouth. Marcus stepped a little closer, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease. On the table before her stood a spherical glass of water, secured to the table somehow and sealed with a lid. Her posture was ramrod straight, one arm extended stiffly to scribble on a napkin with a pen. Leaning forward a bit, Marcus found that she was writing. “Free me kill me free me kill me free me kill me…” Over and over again it repeated, in tiny, perfectly neat lettering. Hmm. That’s cheerful.
Marcus turned and began moving towards the exit. He’d had quite enough of this particular location. He limped to the door, listening for a second before opening it. He opened it, aiming his shotgun down the corridor. The door on the opposite end was probably very intimidated. He moved on, cautiously entering the next car. Aha! This looked useful. At first glance it looked to be a regular passenger car, until he noticed the displays embedded in the back of each chair at about torso-height. Most of the chairs were filled, and the passengers were almost all manipulating the displays in some way, be it with claws, hands, tentacles, or… um… whatever that was. Marcus wasn’t quite sure, and wasn’t going to take a closer look.
He limped over to one open seat bordering the aisle, and sat down. Glad to have the weight off of his leg, he took a closer look at the screen. Currently it displayed a list of what looked to be languages. Most of the symbols on the screen were completely incomprehensible. Touching the screen, he found he could scroll up and down. Finally, he found some languages printed in letters that looked vaguely familiar, which he thought were old-earth languages. He scrolled down through them until he found something he could actually read. “Galactic common?” Well, they got the name wrong, but that’s definitely ImpCom. Let’s take a look.
He tapped it, and the screen showed a welcome screen.
“Welcome, BUSINESS CLASS PREMIUM traveler! Thank you for choosing Infinity Express, the only choice for trans-dimensional transportation! We hope you are enjoying your trip today, whether it’s a regular commute or a well-earned vacation!
The tip of the day is: Don’t forget to buckle your seat-belt!
Please select an option from the following list:
1) Stop Schedule
2) Infinity Express Map
3) Services
4) Call Attendant
5) Comments and Criticism
6) OverNet
7) Log Out”
Marcus examined his options for a moment, ignoring the overly cheery tone of the greeting. On a whim, he tapped OverNet. Nothing. Call attendant. Negative. Stop Schedule? The screen displayed a blank table. He went back to the main menu and selected map. He had been expecting a map of the route, but was instead treated to a layout of the train. Hmm. According to the little “You Are Here!” dot, he was still fairly far back on the train. Some of the labels were somewhat surprising, with cars such as “Ballroom” and “Library” and “The Void Lounge” being just a few. He looked for anything really fun, like a security room or perhaps an armory. If there were any on the train, they weren’t listed on the map. He didn’t see anything that looked like a medical car or what have you, though a few cars were labeled as having first-aid stations (which seemed prudent, considering the sharp turns the train seemed to make occasionally.)
Marcus logged out, reluctantly standing up once more. His leg wasn’t getting any better, and that chair was really comfortable. Grumbling under his breath he began moving towards the exit, Marcus was caught off guard as the train made a sharp turn upward. He was knocked off of his feet, which did nothing to improve his demeanor. He got up, grimacing as he used his bad leg. He moved to the door, opened it, and moved on.