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open rp; fast food

The Master had wandered away from the room he had taken as his own. He breathed deep, pinpointing the different people on the base and their locations, so far as he could manage. He thought he smelled something else that was rather familiar and sneered, making his way to the food storage area and opened one of the cupboards and grabbed an armful of food trays. The device the Doctor had made was helping but he could still feel that drain of energy, the hunger already starting to gnaw at him from the inside.

He didn't bother heading back to his room and crouched off in a corner of the facility, ripping open one of the packages and prying out the frozen protein packs, beginning to chew on the edges instead of waiting for it to thaw. The noise in his head, the signal, was deafening. He'd been able to focus on mental blocks while the bangle the Doctor had given him was at full strength but they were starting to weaken and crumble as his attention was divided again.

Growing impatient, he lashed out and threw one food tray away from himself, sending it skittering down the corridor. These took too long. So much easier just to find someone for a snack. He was tempted but then the Doctor would be upset and he'd be even more hungry. Deeming it unnecessary to sulk, even though he still was doing just that, he gathered up the trays around him before heading back down the corridor after the one he'd thrown away in a fit.

[EDIT/OOC: Apparently today is the day that I'm unable to type. Please be kind. I'm getting back into his voice.]

Tags:

All things considered, Alice was holding things together reasonably well. She’d never lived out of her own time zone before, save a mediocre backpacking trip after uni. And yet here she was, in the future, on Mars. And she’d yet to do anything terribly foolish. She’d yet to do anything much at all, which was a bit embarrassing. Who would have guessed the being stuck on Mars would be so mind numbingly boring?

Leaving the quarters that she’d sort of commandeered for herself, Alice walked down the corridor, deciding to check the “not dead” list for the third time that morning. She wasn’t carrying any makeshift weapons. There didn’t seem to be much point. If whoever had taken her here wanted her dead, she’d already be dead.
Continued from here for Sarah and Jo and here for Gwen and Harry


"That's why you're a journalist." Jo smiled. As Cliff's manager, being friends with a journalist was very useful, so she was glad Sarah was nosy.

She looked at where Sarah was pointing on the map K9 showed them. "A hub must be more interesting than a corridor." They all looked the same. Jo was getting bored of them and of being cooped up inside.

One un-etched door later, they rounded a corner and heard voices. They turned out to belong to a man and a young, pregnant woman with a Welsh accent. Which didn't help Jo's homesickness.

"Oh, hello," she said.

[Intro] she used to know who she was

When she woke up, Gwen knew something was wrong.

Maybe it was the fact that Rhys wasn't beside her, but that wasn't terribly uncommon. He'd become more of the earlier riser since... Well, since everything had happened. But the absence of even a fading warmth from his side of the bed was enough to alarm her, and opening her eyes did nothing to quell her concerns.

Because she had no idea where she was. She threw back the blankets and sat up, staring down at her swelled belly and her knee-length nightie. It was the most comfortable thing she owned, but she suddenly felt vulnerable and uncomfortable in the strange room.

"What the bloody..."

Muttering to herself, Gwen stood up and snatched up the dressing gown she had abandoned at the foot of the bed the night before. Pulling it around her body, she wondered what she could have eaten the night before that would result in such a vivid dream state.

But Gwen wasn't one to idle around waiting to wake up. She didn't know where she was, or why, but she had every intention of finding out. Tying her dressing gown securely around her, she padded in bare feet to the door and down the hallway of this new, strange place.

Intro: and her little dog too

"Come along K9," Sarah said. The floor looked smooth enough that even her dog should be able to manage them with no problem. She tucked her notebook into her bag, hoping the binary message would make more sense once she figured out what was going on.

Her head was finally starting to clear but she was cautious as she exited the room, her sonic lipstick at the ready.

"Which way, Mistress?" K9 chirped.

Sarah flipped open her watch and tried again to scan for lifesigns. Either there was no one else here, or something in the station was blocking it. "Left," she replied randomly, hoping that the latter was true. Abandoned space stations gave her the creeps. At least she had K9 to keep her company, and he'd already proved himself useful, confirming that she was on Mars in the not to distant future.

She followed closely behind K9 as he rolled down the corridor, staying close to the walls in case she needed cover.

K9 is an NPC. Anyone who has interacted with him on the telly can write his actions or dialog and as the game progresses, he may leave Sarah's side to travel with other people on the station.

Alice Carter: Not Dead [Open RP]

“Sign here if you aren’t dead.”

Armed with big sheets of paper and what looked liked markers, Alice wrote the former in very large, very neat letters. She was more than used to putting up her share of billboards. Regardless of the location – Bannerman Road Primary, Bristol; Terrifying Space Station, Mars – a good billboard had to have three things in common: it had to be big, it had to be simple, and it had to be attention grabbing.

Alice felt her first sentence did all those things. Standing up, she stretched her back and looked around for a chair to stand on. Alice was smart and capable, but she was not exceedingly tall.

Intro: Jo Grant

Jo awoke, heart pounding, and the fear from her nightmare still lingering. She'd dreamt that the Daleks had invaded, the Master was behind it, and she'd been desperately trying to protect Cliff from it all. But now all was quiet and she told herself it was just a dream.

Except - why was it so quiet? She opened her eyes to see an unfamiliar room. The air smelt recycled too, and she wrinkled her nose at it. Unless the past few days had been erased from her mind - which admittedly wouldn't be the first time - she'd gone to bed at home, in the Amazon. With Cliff - who now wasn't beside her.

"Cliff?" she called out, in case he was somewhere in the vicinity, but there was no answer. She was clearly not going to find anything out staying in bed, so she got up, and sucked in her breath when her bare feet touched the cold floor. But at least it was smooth and find to walk on.

A search of the room didn't reveal any of her clothes - or any other clothes. So she went out in her pyjamas. They were an old and fraying pair, but comfortable and warm. They had little Earths on them - they'd been a present from one of Cliff's sisters, meant as a joke, but Jo had liked them anyway.

She called Cliff's name again, once she was outside in the corridor, but she still couldn't hear anything except hum of the air conditioning. "Aha," she said as she came across a screen and read the message on it. "How do you log an enquiry?" she asked it rhetorically, and tried pressing a few buttons. "I need to know if my husband's safe." Once she was sure of that, then she'd worry about why she was here, where here was and what was wrong with the universe.


ooc: Jo comes from the present, so she's in her 50s.
"Yeah," Jack said, seemingly to nobody as he headed along another corridor. He was scoping out the base, trying to work out what was where and why. Knowing something would be a start and at the moment they knew barely that.

"Okay great. And you tried that storage bunker too?" he went on. His finger was pressed to his ear and a small device blinked away against it. He wasn't talking to himself of course, but Jenny on the other end of the communication device he'd set up, firing instructions and taking information for the impromptu little team they'd set up.

The corridor ahead was darkened. A small label above told Jack it was 'Storage Corridor 7' but then that hardly told him anything at all.

"Check back in with me soon," he said and pressed the button on the side, closing the transmission.

Gun at the ready, he headed off down the corridor.


MD2: 075ad171938f9311565c58a2cbd36abc
MD4: ba0dec8d778248f95e74ccbf8f3d8d72
MD5: d4fdba394effd0f934d05690a8caa24d
CRC 8, ccitt, 16, 32 :

CRYPT (form: $ MD5? $ SALT $ CRYPT):
$1$PCRBHIcl$sy8KQguz1v0/Hz3l0Uc/c0
(form: SALT[2] CRYPT[11]):
pshLYk0yBpW02

SHA1: 0adfd6fccfceee7f166584ea804f15224db8462a
RIPEMD-160:
d5225bcdfd2f11f534ceeda17c7926e4468b20af


Welcome to Bo$3> Base One.

This is an automated message broadcast across all space, subspace, and supraspace channels. [irreparable mark up U2FtIHJ1bGVzLg== debug required]. Please be advised that any and all info3*//=tion cont@#ned within the content of this message is meant for the [>>>unreadable code fragment<<<] and should not, under any circumstance, be distributed to #39es.

As a result of the recent spatio-temporal event, travel between points in space-time has become unstable. The point of fragmentation has been designated a ZmFjZSB1cGdyYWRl [irreparable mark up > debug required] level safety zone. Congregants of individuals left untouched or otherwise pulled from the universal collapse may use this $&^^ area, as necessary, to carry out rescue efforts.

Attached to this message is a viewable [>>>unreadable code fragment<<< raw 71 101 109 32 114 117 108 101 115 46] document containing the location of necessary supplies and!``{{8rk three communication systems.

Under no circumstance should travel to a non-existent point in space-time be undertaken.

Further enquiries may be logged into the Bowie Base One computer system. All enquiries will be answered in a timely manner and will be answered - 01001000011001010110110001110000001000000110110101100101001011100010000000100000010010000110010101101100011100000010000001101101011001010010111000100000001000000100100100100111011011010010000001110100011100100110000101110000011100000110010101100100001011100010000000100000010001100110100101101110011001000010000001110100011010000110010100100000011001010111010001100011011010000110010101100100001000000110010001101111011011110111001000101110001000000010000001010000011011000110010101100001011100110110010100101110001000000010000001010100011010000110010100100000010100100110000101110110011001010110111000100000011001110110000101101001011011100111001100100000011001010110111001110100011100100111100100101110


[MESSAGE DEGRADED, INTERRUPTION DETECTED. COMMUNICATION TERMINATED.]








((Please see the related OOC post at here for any questions, comments, some OOC info, etc.))

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intro: making the best of things

It was Wednesday morning, and Wednesday meant an algebra quiz, so Clyde hadn’t exactly woken up in the best of moods to begin with. He’d been studying with Luke and Rani the night before, but so far Clyde had failed to pick up Luke’s super-genius by osmosis despite his best efforts.

The dull throbbing headache that made itself known shortly after he woke up didn’t particularly help matters, either—just what he needed, really, to make the day perfect. That was, unless Clyde—who was nothing if not an opportunist—could turn the situation to his advantage. “Oi!” he yelled—though not very successfully, with his head buried under the pillow and all. “Mum, I really don’t think I’m feeling very—“

And then, the abrupt silence of someone who’d finally bothered to open his eyes and notice that he had most definitely not woken up in the same place where he’d fallen asleep.

Clyde sat up with a heartfelt groan and took stock of his surroundings. Definitely not his own room, he concluded; probably not London; maybe not Earth, though the technology at least still looked human. Weirdest of all—though Clyde’s idea of weird had nothing to do with anyone else’s any more—half his things were still lying around: schoolbag, sketchbooks, an open closet with what looked like his own clothes.

“Right then,” Clyde said aloud to the room, and hopped to his feet, grimacing at the brief dizziness the sudden movement brought. (For a moment he could have sworn he was somewhere else again, but that was crazy. Even by Bannerman Road standards.) A minute later he was fully dressed and venturing out into the hallway, schoolbag and all—you never knew what you might need, after all. “Guess this means I won’t be worrying about that algebra quiz for a bit longer.”