Re/Aligned Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
re_alignedmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
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
"Is your vocaliser damaged? Can you not speak?"
He sets his jaw, slipping into doctor mode as he kneels down, bringing himself closer to being eye-to-eye with this stranger.
"Is there... are you damaged in any way?"
His optics flicker to the bot's throat, trying to pick out damage.
no subject
As for damaged... well. Charlie had done a good job reattaching his arm and his head (once he bought the latter back from Crash Palace), but there was only so much he could do. The most that's obvious are weld marks on the largest pistons in his neck.
Said pistons are responsible for the groan he uses to retort. Noisy Boy's vocaliser can't be damaged because he doesn't even have one.
Though he's ridiculously well-made beyond that.no subject
So, when the bot doesn't respond to his question, Ratchet says, "May I?" and leans forward, slowly (enough so that the bot can bat his hand away if needed) reaching out to tip his chin up to get a better look.
no subject
Noisy Boy notes the motion, and while he could take it worse... this isn't the ring and without a handler he isn't authorized for violently skittish behavior. He does lean his head back and rocks back on his feet slightly, though. The last time a hand was aimed in the direction of his head, it. Didn't go well.
no subject
"Hey, I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm a medic, see?" He holds out his hand and with a soft series of whirs and clicks, his fingers transform into a series of instruments. Some will be foreign to Noisy, but instruments for caring for mechanical beings are mostly universal, so they should be mostly recognizable.
"Just wanna take a look at those welds on your neck, see if there's anything that needs fixing."
no subject
It could be a trick, Noisy has to consider. Then again, the last bot that had aimed to do him harm didn't seem smart enough for that kind of behavior.
Cautious, he settles on his feet again, raising his chin slightly. He might regret this later, he admits to himself, but sometimes one must assume honesty.
no subject
But what kind of extreme trauma would require--? He flashes back to Bumblebee and a bitter pain crackles through his spark as he draws back.
"Well, I can certainly fix that creaking in your pistons with a little time and elbow grease. Your vocalizer, though... that's going to be a bit of a challenge."
His mind is already whirring with possible treatment plans. Perhaps he and Wheeljack could work together to build a new one from scratch? He'd have to learn more about this bot's specs, though, before attempting anything like that.
no subject
Ironically, he can't say anything about the vocalizer. It simply would have been a frivolous addition, and outside of WRB upgrade regulations to boot. Besides, he hadn't needed to really communicate with other bots until now, and rarely did outside of the ring.
Noisy Boy tilts his head for a moment before glancing to his own elbow. He works it slightly. The saying 'elbow grease' isn't unknown to him, of course, but... well, it hardly makes sense, does it. In turn, he lets the pistons in that elbow groan in query.
If nothing else, it might make the absence of real hands on Noisy Boy a little more obvious. Every part of his forearm into fused into a single mechanism below the elbow.
no subject
"Primus. Your- How-"
He turns Noisy's forearm in his hands, expression obviously dismayed as he realizes that he's got absolutely no articulation. From the elbow down, this mech's servos are completely fused. To a medic like Ratchet, whose skills lie in the functionality of his hands, this state is horrifying.
"Who did this? And why?"
no subject
If nothing else, his forearm is in extremely good repair and shined to perfection, the LED screen in it in perfect condition. Noisy, meanwhile, cocks his head at the horrified question, giving his arm a slight tug. You are panicking, large bot, and he doesn't know what to do... and you are freaking him out.
This is how he's always been.
a;lskj sorry I missed this tag!
"Your hands and fingers. When did they get fused like this? How do you function without the ability to hold things?"
This bot is just... full of awkward health issues.
it's okay! No worries!
His diagnostic screen is wedged between his back air vents. If Ratchet gets it - and doesn't break the folding glass screen - he could at least access Noisy Boy's fight move list and current vital statistics.
no subject
"Huh... Shogun Trinity, Shockfist, Gravity Slam ... I'm not sure what these all mean?"
It's very strange, all of this. He steps back and gets to thinking. Human designs on him, no vocalizer, no ability to hold things and a list of strange names flickering from a glass plate on the back of his neck. Put that together and... what do you get? Honestly, the first thing that comes to Ratchet is the fighting games that Raf sometimes plays, the ones with the little pocket monster things that only learn four attacks at a time and come in a confusing array of shapes and colours.
"Are you ... were you built by humans to play games?"
It's a throwaway question at most, one more inspired by his utter lack of serious ones than by any true belief that this is the case (because how barbaric would that be, to create a sentient being to fight for your pleasure?)
no subject
Shogun Trinity is still his favorite.
Though his Pain Revolutions are a close second. Good finishing moves.
The question he doesn't gauge as rhetorical or ridiculous in any way, simply assuming that this bot finally gets it. He finally understands. He nods sharply several times, pistons groaning pleasedly. Yes, to play games. The game, rather, the only one that mattered... to Noisy Boy, at least.