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Intro: Not the same.

Once upon a time there lived a girl named Rose. By any other name she would be any other girl, right? Shakespeare's wrong. Rose didn't meet him, that was someone else, but she believes. Her name is Rose and this is important information.

He didn't have a name. He'd a title.

She still misses him. She shouldn't miss him but she does. This is not my Earth. This is not my Life. This is not my Doctor. No. No, that's wrong. She shouldn't miss him.

But she does. She sees the TARDIS in her dreams. She wakes up every day in the same place, missing the TARDIS and wishing she didn't. Didn't wake up in the same place. Didn't miss the TARDIS. Didn't wake up in the same place.

Didn't wake up in the sane place.

Sane. Same. Sane. Sane. Same. Sane. Traveling with the Doctor was not sane and yet the best time of her life.

Do you know what it is like to know you already lived the best time of your life? The elderly do. And so does Rose.

Rose. By any other name...




She woke and it was not the same place. The sane place. It was somewhere else entirely.

She had no idea where she was but it didn't matter. It was insane. And she felt better than she had in ages.

She went to find the Doctor.

Intro; Hungry

It happened so quickly. No time to react, just act and acting is what he had done. The Doctor standing there with his I know, facing down Rassilon and death. No regeneration, just death. That just would not do.

Especially not when the Master had this chance alone to make them pay for what they'd done. Using him, him! Suicide wasn't on his agenda but revenge, revenge he could live with dying for. It wasn't heroic. The Doctor just happened to have been in his way and shooting through him would have had less impact.

So naturally, he had to get him to move, saying words only moments before spoken to him.

And so he had attacked their Lord President, focusing solely on the Doctor that the barrage of energy caught him by surprise. Inside, the Master felt a surge of satisfaction. This is your salvation! He pushed his advantage, not waiting for Rassilon to pull himself back up to his feet and continued his attack, words of anger pouring out against their using him. Somehow making him less than he always thought of himself by imposing. No more.

Only the Time Lock was slotting back into place, cutting him off from Earth as he was caught up in the gravitational forces with the other Time Lords. This was it but it was worth it. Darkness crowded in and then nothing. Nothing that was punctuated by pain, excruciating pain at expending so much energy.

With some effort, he forced his eyes to open and was met by white and the smell of cleaned, circulated air. The Master pushed himself up, half curled over on himself as he tried to regain his bearings. Then he saw the plaque on the bulkhead. Oh.

Oh.

"Cause naturally all this day can do is get worse."

Intro: Of Course

The months ago by, and you function. You still go to work, and you still buy milk at the corner store on your way home. And the whole time, you pretend that there isn’t a reason that you aren’t running late in the mornings anymore, and that you only buy milk by the pint. You pretend, and your acquaintances pretend, and eventually things run a little more ordered.

But you just get tired. Alice was tired. In every conceivable sense of the word, Alice was tired.

Which might have been why, when she woke up from what passed for sleep these days, and walked around in a room where the air felt stale and the floors were cold through her socks, she hardly recognized it as wrong. She recognized it as different, certainly. She was aware enough to tell the difference between her living room and a strange base. She’d been in her living room, now she wasn’t, and maybe a year ago, she’d have had some sort of more discernible reaction. But now? She was tired. Her head hurt. Her trainers were nearby, thankfully, and Alice slipped into them. She didn’t need a change of clothes – she’d fallen asleep in hers. As prepared as she was going to be, Alice looked around, resigned.

“Of course.”

And that was the whole of it.

Intro

Ianto Jones was relatively certain that he'd gone to bed as usual. These days, he would probably not tell you if you asked, "usual" meant in his own bed, in his own flat, and, above all, with a certain former Time Agent hogging the duvet.

When he woke up on this particular morning, however, nothing was familiar, and he was alone. That, that awareness that absolutely everything was just plain wrong, caused Ianto to jolt awake immediately. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Boxers. He was wearing boxers. T-shirt. He pinched the fabric and pulled it away from his body. Okay, so that was familiar. Lisa had given him that shirt.

The room he hadn't seen before. It was grim. Sterile. No windows. Ianto thought he could hear a faint buzz beneath the silence, but that could have been the headache, which was slowing making itself known. Whatever had happened, his body obviously didn't like it. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and then forced himself to stand.

Hanging up on the other side of the bed was a suit. The red. The same he vaguely remembered laying out the night before. Well, he thought it had been the night before. But at least he wouldn't have to investigate in his underwear.

With only a quick glance around for cameras, Ianto dressed, then warily opened the door. His first step out and he was cold, somewhere very cold, for a second blinded by sunlight hitting ice - never-ending ice.

Then, he was back, and he moved, unsettled, into the corridors of Bowie Base One.

Not again

Turlough rubbed his temples and stood unsteadily, wondering why he felt so bad. He'd made an appearance at the embassy do, as his brother had requested but he had carried a single glass of the local vintage around sipping at it for show. He much preferred to have his head about him during these functions.

But his head was clearing rapidly and he didn't like what he saw at all. Earth technology, perhaps slightly more advanced than when he'd been an exile. He studied the screen, his English coming back to him a little more clearly than he would have preferred. He'd thought he was rid of this place. Turning slowly, he took in the banks of computers and other equipment. Earth's technology still hadn't caught up to Trion's, he noted.

He found the door controls and slowly stepped out into the corridor, his eyes flicking left and right as he looked for other people, or more specifically, the person or entity who had done this to him.

Malkon wouldn't wonder what had happened to him. Turlough had a practise of disappearing from public view for days at a time. His brother was the one who played at politics, he preferred to work behind the scenes.

A chill ran up his spine as he explored further, finding room after room empty.He'd never been quite the coward that people accused him of, but he did have a strong sense of self preservation and every instinct told him that something was very wrong here.

Uh oh. [Intro]

"Oi, remind me never to accept a drink from a Zocci on a Tuesday ever again." The Doctor opened his eyes.

He looked left. No Jack. Huh.

He looked right. No Rose. Huh.

He double checked each side, making sure they hadn't reversed on him or anything.

Still neither.

Huh.

"Fantastic." He sat up, rubbing his head and looking around. His TARDIS was there. Good sign. Except for that fact that he wasn't in it, and Rose and Jack were missing, everything seemed perfect.

"Bowie Base One?" This was bad. This was very bad. The Bowie base was a fixed point. Of all people to end up there with no memory of how or why, the Doctor was the worst.

He reached into his pocket, digging around for the TARDIS key.

There was no TARDIS key.

"Fantastic," he repeated, even though this time he meant it slightly less than he had before.

And then he set out to find his key, his companions, or both.

Preferably both.

Intro: A new morning.

Jack's head hurt.

It hurt as though he'd had one two many of those green looking drinks the night before. They'd numbed him, and that's what he'd wanted; something that would numb the senses and dull the memories. Nothing really did though, nothing that would last. Because if there was anything he knew it was that. That nothing lasted.

And so he woke, but he didn't remember falling asleep. He woke and he blinked and as he sat up his head was swimming. It felt, he thought, almost as though he'd been through the vortex. That was a ridiculous thought, of course, and the strap on his wrist had been broken for far too long to be of use for anything like that.

A bad hangover then. Because that's what it must have been.

But no.

No because the air wasn't the same processed air of the transport ship he'd been on. The sheets weren't the scratchy ones of the bed he'd slept on.

He was somewhere else.

And maybe you can take the man away from Torchwood, but you can never take the Torchwood away from the man. So first things first? He went to investigate.

All the best stories start on Mars.




Good morning.

Welcome to Mars.

Welcome to Bowie Base One.

The year is 2059 and the sun has just risen over the horizon. It is a new day on Mars, a new day for you, and the first of the new days of the Broken Universe.

You find yourself waking from a deep dream, one of the sort that you know was especially vivid, but of which you are unable to grasp either form or content. You merely know that you were asleep, and that it was incredibly adventurous. Or arousing. Or silly. Or frightening.

When you take your first breath, you see that the place you are in is abandoned. No two people wake up within view of each other. Each must search others out, and Bowie Base One is so much larger than it really ought to be.

One might say it's bigger on the inside.

One might.

You look around and see all the trappings of the late twenty-first century. Maybe you recognize the technology and maybe you don't, but it's all there. Touch screen, voice-activated computers. Biosign tracking. Air filtration. Water filtration. Everything is in perfect order without a single soul to keep track of it.

Until now.

When you stand, you have a lingering headache, as though you had a bit too much to drink last night. You take a step or two forward and suddenly... you're not where you were.

Another step and you're back again. Bowie Base One. Mars. 2059.

Welcome to the Beginning of the Broken Universe.








[OOC: This is how all characters will start in the game. If they have a TARDIS, they can wake up by it. Similarly, any personal belongings can be there when they wake up. They'll take a step into another time and place, then another back into the Bowie Base.

Time and space are fluid here, which will allow you to move your character freely around what's left of the universe.

Comments are disabled, but go right ahead and start your own thread so your character can interact with everyone.

If you haven't done so, please join fractured_fen for all game announcements and to meet your fellow players.]