Open | The Epicurians Present: The 1st of September Beach Bash!

[bleatingedge]

Who ► Leo & Anyone that wishes to join!
What ► BEACH PARTY!!
When ► September 1st
Where ► Δ Haggard Traveler's Reprieve
Content Warnings ► People will be drunk. Will add to if needed

[The time has come... for fun! Δ Haggard Traveler's Reprieve has been decorated with all the niceties that a beach party requires - docks for fishing, large umbrellas to hide from the sun, several tables with sets of chairs for sitting and conversing, and the most obvious addition: a massive roaring bonfire with a big cooking mesh over the top of it for barbecue cookin'!

Leo's wearing a fishing hat and aviators alongside his trademark loincloth-and-nothing-else getup for maximum dissonance. From his position on the other side of the bonfire, he waves a hand at those arriving.]

Welcome to the Beach Bash! Snacks and drinks are on the tables, bottles of sunscreen and crafting tables are under the umbrellas, and complementary fishing gear are at the docks for your convenience. Have fun, friends~

[Emperor Grunty is also here, should you wish to annoy him! He's currently laying in the sand with a reflector. What? Grunties need their sun too!]

Comments

2/2

[gluttoning]

[Licorice tracks the shell like a rocket, snout burying in the sand as he tries to find where it has landed.]

There's probably only so much they can say anyway, right?

He mentioned an NDA to me before, when I got mad about Swallow.

[tablescraps]

( Ah, that guy. That tracks. For the moment, Mithrun lets that topic be, knowing where it veers. )

What did you ask him? He told me he could confirm she was lying about being unable to log out. He was able to tell who caused the issue with the mirrors at the carnival, so it made me wonder what data he was seeing attached to Swallow's avatar.

[gluttoning]

[Silence. Barrett carefully holds out a hand to rest against Morgan's head, glancing over towards the admin who sits further down the beach.

Licorice comes bounding back with his shell, tracing a circle in the sand before plopping down with a satisfied huff of breath. Barrett follows suit, seating himself next to Morgan and dropping his volume.]

Careful, okay?

He told me something similar. About proving Swallow's intent. He didn't believe they could fix the specialty armor, either.

He also isn't concerned with CCCorp being sued.

[tablescraps]

( Good boy, Licorice. Very talented.

He glances up at Barrett. Mithrun's lack of desire for privacy, and to spare himself the head admin's wrath, strikes again.

Interesting, though. Fine, he'll lower his voice in suit. )

... He told me the armors and the mirrors were done by the same person. Strange that they could fix one, ( the mirrors, ) but not the others, even though they're similar in nature - digging into memories from the brain and rendering them in Fragment... though in different ways.

[gluttoning]

[There's a stillness in how Barrett listens, his hand staying against Morgan's hair for a moment longer before dropping back to the sand.]

The same person...

...At least some of the armor isn't as bad for everyone. [He pointedly never wears his outside the weapon.] But I'm worried about what Uta was told.

[tablescraps]

That the armor's "cursed"?

( He considers it. )

... We won't know unless we keep wearing it, I think.

[gluttoning]

...What do we do if something horrible happens?

And why are the NPCs calling the armor that... if someone else put it in?

[tablescraps]

... Fragment isn't real to us, but, to the creatures that exist here, it's real to them. Even for entities who they understand they were programmed, it's not that different than humans who believe they were put together by God.

( something something cave allegory ... )

... If some entity they don't know or understand injected this armor into the world they live in, it's probably not that different to them than the work of a curse or a devil.

But we can log off, if something bad happens. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. The creatures here have to live with the data that feels out of place, I'm guessing.

[gluttoning]

I always thought that had to be someone writing everything ahead of time. Like a movie script, right?

The way you talk about it makes it sound like things are thinking for themselves here. Like they can make choices and talk about things that the game didn't expect.

[Despite his hesitance in trying to put together his thoughts, Barrett doesn't sound like he disbelieves this idea.]

... Will you log off, if something bad happens?

[tablescraps]

I think... the technology here is generative— though their spectrum of thought and reactions are limited, NPCs seem capable of registering unusual actions and acting in accordance.

For example, it's possible that "curse" is a generic term the sprite NPCs use any and all pieces of data that seem tampered with, or for information they can't identify. But it's also possible the technology behind them is advanced enough to have a unique reaction to the armor. The technology behind Fragment is so advanced, I wouldn't be surprised if they could manage complex, thinking programs... Especially considering Zelkova.

( Zelkova did draw a line between himself and NPCs though - so Mithrun presumes the depth of complexity differs between general NPCs and Zelkova himself.

A pause, though. )

... I probably wouldn't log off if something bad happens. I wouldn't be able to understand what's happening if I did.

( This is why he's a scientist... All Hollywood stereotypes about them are clearly correct. )

[gluttoning]

[You've lost him, captain.

Well, for most of it. He's trying his hardest to keep up with the line of thought.]

...So... like, when people see something in the sky they don't recognize, and call it a UFO or something. Like that? [help]

[He does take a second to pause, concern dotting his features. With hesitance, he lifts a hand to brush knuckles against Mithrun's shoulder.]

... I wish I knew a good way to tell if things were wrong. I'd...

I'd miss you a lot, if something happened to you.

[tablescraps]

( There there, Barrett. He knows you've got three braincells and they're stacked into the shape of a cheeseburger. So, he nods. Exactly like when a person sees a thing in the sky and calls it a UFO. Good job.

The gesture and sentiment surprises him, though, and pauses him mid-flippant thought toward his own safety.

He considers this, gaze falling against his hand at his shoulder. )

... Assuming I'm in a state where I can... I can message you if something bad is happening. Is that fine?

[gluttoning]

Yeah? Of course. It's more than fine.

[Just as soon as it arrived, the touch drops away, Barret adjusting himself to sit cross-legged in the sand and prop his head against one hand with a concerned frown.]

...I don't want you to get into a situation like the tank and not send an email until you're blacking out, though. I think... by then, it's so dangerous that nobody will be able to help unless they're right next to you.

Does that make sense?

[tablescraps]

( There his hand goes... He follows it for a moment, before his eye drifts up to Barrett's face. )

... So you want a message earlier into the scenario, you mean?

( He frowns, a little. That's going to be tricky to identify. )

[gluttoning]

Yeah. But it's more... mmm. [He thinks it over, frown deepening against the hand tucked against his own chin.]

I wish there was a better way for you to tell it was even getting that bad for you. You know, like we talked about with getting dizzy? Except bad things can happen without you getting dizzy. So.

Mmmn.

[tablescraps]

( That's even trickier. Mm... )

... What does your brother do?

[gluttoning]

[Oh. Booker?

...]

There isn't anything he can do in the moment. His attacks happen really fast by the time he notices things, but...

He's learned some things that he knows make his condition worse, so he knows to be careful or to try to be sitting down if he's in certain situations, or he'll ask me or a friend to stay close to him. Sometimes we can see he's getting out of it right before he falls over, but that's usually just luck.

[tablescraps]

( Mithrun forgetting Barrett has like 38 of those things (brothers)

He does seem to think it over, though. )

... Then it's just a matter of determining whether I'm entering a dangerous situation or not, and then calling you to go with me.

( He looks at Barrett. Does that work :thinking: )

[gluttoning]

[Yeah they multiply if you stop looking at them really

Something in his eyes pains a bit as he lets himself smile, before shaking his head slightly.]

I wish I could. If things were different... I'd be here whenever anyone needed me.

But... I know I can't.

Maybe making a list of people you trust here could help. Not just me.

[tablescraps]

I could do that.

( He'd suggested Barrett since Barrett seemed personally concerned about it, but if anyone will do, then, well, anyone will do, Mithrun supposes. He's missing the drive to do this for himself, but... since it's Barrett suggesting this, he'll consider it. )

I'll think over a list next week. Maybe Sunday. ( Mithrun with higher priorities on his to-do list. ) It shouldn't be too difficult to come up with.

[gluttoning]

So long as it's people you think would help you in a situation where you feel you might not be able to help yourself.

[A beat. His head lulls a bit against his wrist with a tilt of warmed expression, and that free hand reaches out again. From sand to skin, T
The lightest touch only, knuckles just boastong briefly against the curve of his shoulder. The glimmers of affection.]

I'll do what I can to help you. Whenever I can.

[tablescraps]

( Ah. Again. He wonders if he'll pull it away, in a moment. )

... When you can.

( Whenever you can sounds nice - but his gentle reiteration is a needling, in some sense, that Barrett's time holds priority, too. He doesn't want or need Barrett to overextend himself to be there for him, if it ever comes to that.

And this time, before his knuckles might slip away again... Mithrun lifts his other hand, and lays his palm against Barrett's palm, curling his fingers around his hand. )

... I'll be fine.

( Well, a lot of things can go wrong, and he's still pretty careless. But... he'll be fine. And even if some minor injury happens to him, he'll recover in the end - he can't, after all, die yet. )

[gluttoning]

[Oh.

The touch halts him, a sheepish coloring of his face as Morgan's fingers curl. He lets his fingers open, spreading out their touch under Morgan's press in a cupping, circular motion against his shoulder.]

...Yeah. I... trust you. I want to.

[tablescraps]

( rip to barrett's trust................... )

... You're all red.

( Teasing? Maybe. Hard to tell with Mithrun. The touch doesn't feel bad, though. )

[gluttoning]

Am I? [Again? Damnit. He brings his free hand up his chin to his face, burying his features in his fingers with a slightly embarrassed look when he feels how warm he's turned.]

...You surprised me.