Re/Aligned Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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re_alignment_logs2012-06-21 04:54 pm
re_alignedmods) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-06-21 04:54 pm
Entry tags:
- !npc | alpha trion,
- !npc | liege maximo,
- !npc | megatronus prime,
- !npc | nexus prime,
- !npc | prima,
- !npc | solus prime,
- !npc | vector prime,
- !open,
- brave police: j-decker | deckard,
- brave police: j-decker | gunmax,
- brave police: j-decker | mccrane,
- kingdom hearts | ventus,
- tf: animated | blurr,
- tf: animated | sari,
- tf: classics | elita one,
- tf: dreamwave | jetfire (crau),
- tf: dreamwave | starscream (crau),
- tf: idw | drift,
- tf: idw | wing,
- tf: prime | breakdown,
- tf: prime | knock out,
- tf: prime | ratchet,
- ✘ 9 | 4,
- ✘ batman: 90s animated | annie,
- ✘ kingdom hearts | luxord,
- ✘ legend of korra | korra,
- ✘ megamind | megamind,
- ✘ real steel | noisy boy,
- ✘ star wars | darth malgus,
- ✘ tf: animated | blackarachnia,
- ✘ tf: animated | optimus prime,
- ✘ tf: animated | prowl,
- ✘ tf: animated | slipstream,
- ✘ tf: animated | starscream,
- ✘ tf: animated | swindle,
- ✘ tf: bayverse | shockwave/driller,
- ✘ tf: beast wars | dinobot,
- ✘ tf: idw | optimus prime (crau),
- ✘ tf: idw | pharma,
- ✘ tf: prime | raf esquivel,
- ✘ tf: prime | starscream,
- ✘ tf: prime | wheeljack,
- ✘ yu-gi-oh! zexal | v
OPENING LOG: Awakening
WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: The Junk Pile.
WHEN: Right here, right now.
WHAT: Game opening! Our Heroes find themselves in a strange place not of their own world, however familiar (or not) it may be.
Consciousness is slow, and a struggle to obtain. The moments before darkness are hazy enough; a great vertigo, a twisting, and then, falling. Falling for what seemed like forever. And when you are finally aware of your surroundings, it is most decidedly not where you came from.
Instead, you are now in what appears to be a wasteland. A wasteland...of junk. Debris as far as you can see, heaped in mini-mountains that offer only so good of a view of the world around you. Perhaps in the distance, you can make out some flatter land, perhaps you can just make out what looks like a crevice - but it's difficult at best. The light here is all wrong, the two greatest sources being a white line in the alien sky that doesn't so much give off light as simply have it - and something in the south that glows like a setting sun.
You may or may not notice it at first, but you, too, have something alien - something on your arm, more likely than not. A marking that glows softly, but offers no clue as to how it got there - no pain, no sensitivity. It's simply there, as you are here.
So.
Now what?
((OOC: This is it, you guys! Have a blast! Please remember to keep everything under the first thread for now; we'll be adding the Firstforged in in a little bit...
OKAY There is now a second thread to post in! Feel free to make new threads there to react to the arrival of the Firstforged, or respond directly to the Firstforged themselves.))
WHERE: The Junk Pile.
WHEN: Right here, right now.
WHAT: Game opening! Our Heroes find themselves in a strange place not of their own world, however familiar (or not) it may be.
Consciousness is slow, and a struggle to obtain. The moments before darkness are hazy enough; a great vertigo, a twisting, and then, falling. Falling for what seemed like forever. And when you are finally aware of your surroundings, it is most decidedly not where you came from.
Instead, you are now in what appears to be a wasteland. A wasteland...of junk. Debris as far as you can see, heaped in mini-mountains that offer only so good of a view of the world around you. Perhaps in the distance, you can make out some flatter land, perhaps you can just make out what looks like a crevice - but it's difficult at best. The light here is all wrong, the two greatest sources being a white line in the alien sky that doesn't so much give off light as simply have it - and something in the south that glows like a setting sun.
You may or may not notice it at first, but you, too, have something alien - something on your arm, more likely than not. A marking that glows softly, but offers no clue as to how it got there - no pain, no sensitivity. It's simply there, as you are here.
So.
Now what?
((OOC: This is it, you guys! Have a blast! Please remember to keep everything under the first thread for now; we'll be adding the Firstforged in in a little bit...
OKAY There is now a second thread to post in! Feel free to make new threads there to react to the arrival of the Firstforged, or respond directly to the Firstforged themselves.))
no subject
"I don't know! Why does your plating have to be so tight?"
He growled disgustedly and tried to toss his head to no avail. In fact, the only thing his movement did was shift the junk enough that one key supporting factor fell out ... causing a localized avalanche of trash, and sending the pair of them tumbling downhill.
If asked later, Ratchet will fully admit that he screamed like a juvenille.
no subject
It took his gyros a minute to recalibrate once they'd slid to a halt at the bottom of a trough between two heaps of rubbish. He was laying on his side, half-buried in junk, more trash scattered above and around the both of them.
He shoved at Ratchet's head again, then hissed through his intakes as it sent a twist of pain through his perceptive nets. Somehow, their little jaunt on the way down had only wedged them further together.
"I think your chevron's trying to breach my thoracic cavity, doctor," he hissed. "Not exactly an orthodox surgical technique, hn?"
no subject
"Urgh." He sighs and attempts to bring his hand to the side of his head to rub at the connection of chevron to helm. It won't soothe much, but maybe the extra stimulus will distract his sensory nets a bit. "If this were a common surgical technique, I would have quit medical training and become a pterorabbit breeder vorns and vorns ago."
no subject
He shrugs one arm free of the loose trash on top of him and plants his palm on top of Ratchet's head, giving the mightiest shove he can muster in an attempt to dislodge him.
No luck. Not even a wiggle. "Glitching pitspawn!"
no subject
He braces himself on his hands and knees and tries bracing himself in an attempt to help Knock Out's efforts. It's not working too well... but it does create quite the situation for the familiar bot approaching to stumble on.