Test Drive

[travelagency]

Test Drive Ladies and gentlemen and others, robots and augments, cybernetic lifeforms and entities of all sorts, if I may please have your attention for just a moment, we at the Blackstaff Resort need your assistance. Our lovely little town is under threat of attack, but with your help we can both prevent further harm. These artificially spawned creatures could be described as zombies, and unfortunately they are infectious to the indigenous populations of this universe. You brave souls have the great fortune of being immune to their bites. Therefore, your assistance would be most invaluable in this endeavour. You could potentially save the poor citizens who have already been bitten and succumbed to the illness, return them to their healthy state, as well as the ones still attempting to lead normal lives. In return for your service, if you should volunteer, we will finance your room and board throughout your stay. Moreover, we will arrange for a specific request to be granted at the end of your contract. Should you wish to go to a universe where your parents still live, should you wish a custom home built to your specifications, should you wish to meet your favorite famous personality (current or historical), we will arrange any of this for you. So valuable to us are your efforts. Please speak to a travel agent if you might be interested, and thank you for listening. This is the Test Drive for the Last Resort. This test drive will be canon both if you're accepted, or if current players want to acknowledge a thread as part of their in game canon (almost like a 4th wall post). For more information on what's going on, here is our news broadcast and OOC post. If you get bored and want to follow up on some of the history? Check out the news tag. Test Drive starters are required on applications. Prompts Recruitment People need to be recruited from their home universes, so current and would be travel agents should stop in and convince them to come along for the ride. Because, really, who wouldn't want to deal with zombies? Wrangling Being able to one day save the infected, the ones that were once people, seems very likely according to the scientists in the lab and in the clinic. Therefore Jeffers has offered a sort of sancturary: rooms in his resort in a cornered off section specifically meant to hold those zombies so they don't walk out into daylight and die. Imports have yet to catch the infection, or show no symptoms of having done so even months after being bitten. So during curfew hours the few straggling villager zombies (though they're often unfortunate criminals who were trying to sneak around or absent minded idiot vacationers) need to be captured intact. If they don't look like spawner zombies, then they're to be treated with care and moved to one of the rooms. Before dawn, of course. Extermination Spanwer zombies, however, are fair game. And like with all hostiles in the world, they have a bounty on them. They're not much of a problem during the day, but outside the walls at night they litter the countryside as the spiders, the skeletons, and the creepers do. Time Off The odd thing is, during the day? The village doesn't seem to care that they're in constant danger. The sense of community is strong, and people seem bizarrely obsessed in coming and seeing the dangers. Tourists and sight-seers do business with the locals who are very happy to have it again. Senseless though it seems with the trouble of occasional shambling aggressors or quiet toodling green grenades, the people of blackstaff are conducting their lives as normal outside of their curfew. Navigation

Comments

[arnold_j_rimmer]

Oh, you mean have I passed my Firearms Proficiency Exam, as required by Space Corps Directive seven-zero-three-fffffffffffffffffffff--

[Rimmer had been hoping to show off for Kay his knowledge of Space Corps Directives, but half-way in the pressure started feeling very test-like. And then Kay was pointing a gun at him, and it was just like one of his nightmares where the exam official puts a gun to his head and tells him that he has to pass or else the brain pan gets it (only in that nightmare the testing official was wearing pink samurai armour for some unknown reason), and...it's all too much.

Rimmer faints.

It's basically like ducking. He's out of the way of Kay's shot, in any case.]

[most_feared]

[Good enough.]

[Kay shoots, and as usual makes a mess.]

[He looks down at Rimmer.]

[Looks around.]

[Back down at Rimmer.]

[Should he do something with him?]

[Probably.]

[So Kay picks him up fireman style, and starts hauling him back to the resort. Poor dumbass is going to manage to get himself even more killed.]

[arnold_j_rimmer]

[About halfway to the resort, Rimmer groans and begins to stir, speaking in a weak voice.]

Mummy? I don't want to go to school today.

[most_feared]

Hey. If you're wakin' up, I'd like to know why you weigh about two ounces.

[Because that's been his genuine curiosity since hefting him up.]

[arnold_j_rimmer]

[Rimmer squeezes his face into wrinkles, then opens his eyes and returns to reality.]

Two ounces! I weigh two point three ounces, at least! [Nobody calls him a lightweight.]

That's my light bee. The holographic projector that creates my form out of light.

[most_feared]

[Assuming the coherence of that answer means he can put him down, he shifts to do so.]

Holographic.

But you can still feel those bites, huh? You should probably stick to netting the things until you get that reaction under control. Come on. I'll suit you up.

[arnold_j_rimmer]

[Rimmer straightens out his uniform once he's on the ground, makes sure all the seams line up within two millimetres, the hem of his puffy coat between three and five centimetres from his natural waist. All right. All tiptop and in fighting form. Without the fighting.]

Suit up? [Rimmer brightens.] Does that mean I'm going to be promoted to a security officer? I do like the hats. Very manly. Never underestimate the effect of a good military beret, I always say. Like a good haircut, it's a signal to the enemy that this army is not to be trifled with. Like a brigade a Kingsnakes, flashing their bright colours.

[He thinks for a moment and a beret appears on his head. A blue, shimmery beret.]

BETTER WAY TO PHRASE IT

[most_feared]

Accepting people to security is Jeffer's job. [And while he's reasonably sure Jeffers would take recommendations Kay isn't going to offer one up in this case, for obvious reasons.]

But I mean that I will equip you with a capture device.

Use it on me and I'll take that "light bee" of yours and I'll knock it off a golf tee using the south end of a northbound sheep for a hole in one, but I'm going to give you the tools to help out [and not accidentally blow up a wall.]

[arnold_j_rimmer]

[He needs a bigger light bee. One that won't fit up the nether end of sheep, big enough to not be able to be flushed down the bog or fed to a flatulent cow. Maybe with a bigger light bee, he'd get some respect. Maybe girls would like him more if he had a big light bee. People say that size isn't everything, but what do they know? People who say that are morons, with fewer active brain cells than a crack addict tit mouse.

But Kay's warning is an effective one, and when a superior gives an order there's only one thing to do.]

Yes, sir!

[Hand circles at the wrist, then the elbow, then snaps into a salute.]

[most_feared]

[Kay watches this, and even after Rimmer is done with his display regards him with an expression that very clearly says, "The fuck was that?" Except Rimmer seems to be unable to pick up the subtleties of searing eyebeam lasers.]

You should probably be evaluated for some sort of mental condition that affects your ability to interpret people's emotions, you know that?

[Kay will advise that, before he meanders off towards the security center. He pumps the shotgun again as he walks and fires off to the side, and a zombie falls to the ground from around the corner of a building, now missing its head.]