Universal Remote [Open to All]

[applesaucemod]

Here's an interesting scene: the dreamers of Manhattan are on a pirate ship. Or perhaps they're standing in a busy ER, wearing scrubs and holding a scalpel they may or may not know how to use. Or perhaps they've found themselves in the middle of a world cup championship game, or an old-fashioned highway robbery, or an interstellar dogfight, or a dramatic, 'unscripted' showdown between arguably attractive people they've never seen before in their lives.

Whatever the situation, rest assured: it probably won't last long.

Maybe the Rift is bored. That might explain why the dream keeps changing, as if someone were idly flicking through the channels and switching up the genre. The poor dreamers are just along for the ride, the only constant amidst a shifting array of scenery, clothing, and overall mood. Perhaps, if things are sufficiently interesting, the dream might settle a little to see how things play out. But given the Rift's definition of 'interesting,' that might not be a good thing for whoever is providing the entertainment.

[OOC: the usual dream party rules apply. All are welcome, regardless of whether they're in the game or not. Dreamers can remember or forget the events of the dream at the players' discretion. Dreamers' clothes may change to reflect whatever scene they're in, but their memories and personalities will remain intact... though the overall mood of the setting might influence their mood, as well. Feel free to throw NPCs into whatever scene you find yourself in, with bonus points added if said characters treat the dreamers as if they're established parts of the 'canon.']

Comments

as;dlfkjas;lk i'm so sorry about wheatley

[grabme]

Local. Would it be? He'd certainly think so, hardly a bit of universal jargon, pardon the pun.

With the handcuffs gone, he wiggles his fingers delightedly and looks at them with absolute joy, as if just coming to terms with the wonderful, spectacular simplicity in having fingers that work and are no longer tied 'round behind his back where he can't use them - which is, of course, exactly what he's coming to terms with.

"Hang on, now, let me go and handle this," he mutters to the Guardswoman in what seems to him to be something of an expertly secretive tone and is in reality nothing of the sort. He puffs up and strides to the reception man, acting for all the world like how he'd envision someone in charge would act, and plants one hand on the desk as he leans forward confidentially.

"What you doing there? Reception? Working the good old desk, hm? Right fantastic at that, aren't you - " he hesitates and his eyes light on the small nametag pinned to the front of the man's uniform, "Walter. Walter, good name, right proper, that. Listen here, Walter, I'll tell you what: my friend and I - she's a bit lost, yeah? Bit out of arms, so to speak. Was just wondering - if it's not too much trouble, mind - if you had something along the lines of a, umm, any sort of report on this whole Rift business. Wouldn't happen to have something that lying about, would you?"

Walter looks at him blankly.

"What?"

never apologize for wheatley

[shynotstupid]

"Pardon, Master Wheatley, but what in the name of all the gods are you doing?" He certainly wasn't getting any answers. In fact, he mostly seemed to be getting a lot of attention.

Quite suddenly the room is bustling with activity, officers rushing out the front door, mostly. Walter looks up and around at the crowd.

"Officer, shouldn't you be going with them?"

"Officer? I'm no officer."

[grabme]

"Master," he repeats, torn between alarm and delight, practically preening at the epithet. "You're too kind, really."

The hope of hearing any further compliments dispersed in his direction promptly dissipates when a stream of heavily armed officers come pouring out and around him in a dark blue spill for the door.

"She's rather confused, I'm afraid," he informs Walter apologetically. "She's a guardswoman, see, and seems more or less in the habit of arresting the wrong person but - she's trying her best, so, you know, benefit of the doubt and all that. Say, you wouldn't happen to have a map or anything of the sort? Not that I, aha, need, need anything of the sort, all for her, really, she's just a tad, just a tad lost is all, you know."

Walter looks at Wheatley oddly. "Sir," he says slowly, inquisitively, "you are in a police precinct."