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Mic Check - voice testing for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
boxmods
So, let me get this straight.
[His voice is tight at first. At least, until he exhales a cloud of smoke too big for any normal human being's lungs.]
The plan is to pull me from the dramatic clutches of the end of the world and stick me in a bigger, suckier version of the place that killed all my friends.
...I'm... not sure I like your definition of irony. See, this is your problem- you're missing, like, the whole entire metaphor. It's a commentary on societal views changing the entertainment industry.
[He gesticulates absently with one hand, fingers tight around the lip of a joint.]
You're perpetuating the steady decline of an entire genre just by participating, but not just that, it's also kind of morally irresponsible. I gotta say, your life choices are p r e t t y questionable.
...Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go talk to that fish over there...
[His voice is tight at first. At least, until he exhales a cloud of smoke too big for any normal human being's lungs.]
The plan is to pull me from the dramatic clutches of the end of the world and stick me in a bigger, suckier version of the place that killed all my friends.
...I'm... not sure I like your definition of irony. See, this is your problem- you're missing, like, the whole entire metaphor. It's a commentary on societal views changing the entertainment industry.
[He gesticulates absently with one hand, fingers tight around the lip of a joint.]
You're perpetuating the steady decline of an entire genre just by participating, but not just that, it's also kind of morally irresponsible. I gotta say, your life choices are p r e t t y questionable.
...Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go talk to that fish over there...
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Yeah, I'm... pretty sure you're broadcasting to the wrong audience here. Good effort, though. As far as I can tell, the people around here aren't just morally irresponsible, but morally reprehensible.
On the bright side, we might actually get a chance to see what rock bottom really looks like.
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[He shakes his head.]
Fucking mind blowing. Not only is it- yeah- [He searches for that word again.] morally reprehensible, but it's just plain bad TV. Or writing. Reading?
[He shrugs. Puff puffs, and then offers out his joint.]
I mean, there's no plot, there's no subtext, there's just... chaos.
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Chaos? Really? [He tilts his head, maybe even gives a bit of a conciliatory shrug.] Maybe. I don't think so, though. Have you seen how organized this stuff gets? They practically micromanage us. Right down to what we're wearing to Susie Q's Party of the Damned.
[Gosh, Sam, what would you know? Some might say you're pretty new around here to be spouting off like that.]
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He narrows his eyes in thoughtful consideration at Sam's point. Micromanaging... controlling every little detail... fucking puppets, always with the fucking puppets, every time you turn around something's puppets.]
I think...
[He says slowly, carefully.]
There's different kinds of chaos. I think this is organized chaos- because, I mean, if you think about it, there's no real... divine... plan. It all just sort of is. I can't control what you're gonna say and you can't control what I'm gonna do, y'know? So it's just like... they can rig the setting all they want, but there's no real control here.
[Organized Chaos.
Slow. Punctuated. Puff.]
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I'm just going to round that point by saying there isn't much else that doesn't already apply to. But you're right, it's probably organized chaos at the best of times.
So, what's your name? I'm Sam.
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[He shrugs a little. They could argue theory all day. The point is, he really doesn't want to go to Puppet Town.]
Marty. Nice to meet you, Sam.
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Yeah, same here. [He clears his throat.] What now? Planning on stonewalling until you get your way? Because that probably works a lot less than you think.
I've got an idea, though. Something that might work. [A snap of his fingers and he's pointing at Marty, nodding to himself as if he's got a good grip on an answer.] It's like eating too much ice cream: eventually you get sick of it and you don't want it anymore, right? Well... [He holds out his hands in a noncommittal gesture.] Maybe you just need to be more like that. More like ice cream. Really invasive, ice cream.
[Dear lord, you are awful at enabling, Sam. Just awful.]
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[That was all well and good, Sam, but you can't really talk about ice cream so much to the Mary Jane influenced. He sort of trails off at that, eyes flicking slowly toward the ceiling.
Strawberry ice cream is the shit.]
Hey, you think there'll be ice cream where she's sendin' me?
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Um. Well. [He uses a thumb to scratch at his eyebrow and then shrugs.] Maybe? But if I'm looking at this right, then there's a good chance Susie Q's Party of the Damned could very much be Susie Q's Ice Cream Social of the Damned.
[And then a pause as he tips his head forward, all floppy hair and genuine sincerity.] What I'm suggesting is that you don't eat the ice cream, no matter how good it looks.
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[It's just good manners. He mumbles it and shrugs a little, but he can't help the sadness. Sam's got a good point. Eating the food in a fucked up box made for organized torture is probably the worst idea, but...
He really wants some ice cream. =/ ]
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It's a slippery slope. You should see the place I come from.
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[A beat, and his mind catches up again.]
...Where are you from?
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Okay, get this. A super violent video game, but the game's supposed to be critiquing the culture of violent video games, while also being a really fuckin' fun and, you guessed it, a really fuckin' violent video game.
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His eyes narrow at the description.]
...What, like Grand Theft Auto?
[Somehow, sleeping with a hooker and stealing cars sounds a little less horrible than a couple thousand monsters and a lava titan.
Siiiigh.]
I was put in the wrong medium.
[It's said with a regretful shake of his head. Oh, the injustice. Oh, the gamerpoints....]
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At least your story gets to end. Every time a player picks the game up again I have to go through all the boss fights and all the awful plot twists all over again like they're new. [Let's not talk about his long-lost evil siblings, okay.]
Which means that a psychotic bitch in Sweet Lolita beat me to death with a baseball bat about five times last weekend. [Travis grimaces.]
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And besides, he's always been more of an RPG kinda guy.
He winces sympathetically.]
Ouch. Rough.
[He sucks on his joint and then offers it over- sounds like you've earned it, New Friend.]
I guess it's not all bad. I mean, there's a virtually unlimited supply of porn in Imaginationland. You get to... you get to meet new people, and...
[...Nope, this is the worst.]
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Yep. [He stares at the joint for a moment, in deep thought-- he's never actually smoked, would drug use be the tipping point to shove his game over from M to AO?? god knows-- before rather nonchalantly just taking the damn thing.]
Yeah, but that's only if your mun decides they're nice enough to let you see any of it. Don't forget they've gotta write you getting laid, too, so unless they know how to write sex, you're fucked. Uh, not fucked.
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Oh, no, no, come on, really? That's what I need, another two years of borderline abstinence and a regression to the awkward fumbling and badly written tendencies of my youth. I ask you- where is the justice?
[It's not that bad, Marty, calm down.]
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Justice is dead, dude. [He takes the world's most contemplative toke.] Justice is dead. And so are all the stiffies, gone before their time. It's a fuckin' tragedy.
[A moment of silence for their soon-to-be barren sex lives.]
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I don't think justice was dead....
[He murmurs slowly, staring off into nothing in particular.]
I think... justice is sleeping. It's just a matter of waking it up...
[...Yeeeah.]
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[Waaaait for it.]
...wake it up, or something. With a big damn alarm clock. [And, as nearly an afterthought:] Of justice.
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[He points with the hand still holding his joint.]
I mean, what's the point even if time's factor, you know? It's just... cramming after a certain point.
]Emphasized with 'cramming' hand motions and all.]
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[Shakes his head, why is he arguing with a pot head? Oh, because they might be stuck in the same strange place together.]
And time is always a factor. In some cases the deadline is more important than in others.
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[He tugs out a pocket case, snubs out his joint and slips it in there. Waste not want not, right?]
Why? Where're you from?
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[Hey, she makes her weapons out of spare junk. Preach it.]
A fallout shelter that turned out to be the product of some fucked up experiment. Tch. These people think they're bein' so goddamn funny.
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[He agrees, pointing emphatically.]
It's like this whole... thing with bunkers and bad comedy. Something about sixteen feet of concrete walls makes people think they're goddamn master of modern humor...
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[Alice rolls her eyes, with a shake of her head.]
Someone in their lives that they actually listen to needs to point out how incredibly unfunny they are so we can all go the fuck home.
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[He sighs, shakes his head.]
You try and tell someone they're not funny and they think you're joking. Eeeeeeverybody thinks you're joking when you're not joking because their sense of humor is really... just... that... bad.
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Then you just punch 'em in the face. [Spoken simply, as if she just uncovered a solution to this whole mess.] Nothing says "I'm not joking" like a punch in the face. And maybe then they'll start thinkin', "hey, my awful sense of humor begets pain from very scary people. Maybe I should quit while I'm ahead."
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[Besides, she's far more interesting than a fish, if she does say so herself.]
Sorry, Charlie, you won't find too much sympathy from the puppet-masters here. We're all in the same boat.
[She'd comment on the whole morally irresponsible bit, but really, that's just the pot calling the kettle black.]
About those dead friends of yours. You'd be going in with a bit of a leg up, wouldn't you? [She smirks.] Sounds to me like going in there forewarned gives you a great opportunity for a bit of catharsis, sugar.
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He'd be more apt to let it go, except she had to go and bring his friends into it.]
No, you know what, you're right. That's what's important in life- a nice, big leg up above the competition. What was I thinking? We gotta go with the bigger picture here, like creeping out random strangers by talking about catharsis in the middle of an existential crisis.
[ :| ]
You know something, we should murder some baby animals while we're at it. Really set the mood.
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[Sorry, is she wrinkling your karma?]
The fact of the matter is, we don't get a choice. So you make the best of the hand you've been dealt and find a way to get through it, or else you end up as meat. There aren't really a whole lot of options.
You can either chin up and look for the silver lining, or waste all your energy and your breath trying to reason with whoever it is that's pulling your strings. I'm sure they're fascinated by this existential crisis of yours.
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[A sigh, and then a tight smile.]
Well, this was a fun time. Really good talk. Lots of back and forth, a little synergy, really... top notch.
[He holds up an OK sign with his hand.]
If I never need lessons on how to be a crazy person, I'll give you a call.
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[Patronizing as ever, with a look that's almost piteous.]
Best put me on speed-dial, honey, because if we're both going to be stuck in this place, you're not going to get very far unless you're able to keep a level head and think like a survivor or get someone to do it for you.
Don't tempt me.
You and your writer must get along then.
I wasn't going to tag anymore tonight and them you suckered me in. Reverse tempting happened.
You're right. I should take lessons from the creep who... collects young people and organizes violent, terminal ritual sacrifices.
[Except not.]
: D not sorry. <D
I worked for NASA.
You know what they used to tell me? everybody has to make sacrifices for the greater good.
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[He agrees emphatically.]
But not in the way that hamsters are fun. With their little wheels and running around in the maze for cheese cubes and electroshock, if that's what you're thinking.
[A beat, and he falters.]
...Were you being ominous or friendly? I can't really... tell...
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I don't truck with being the hamster running the maze either.