Sarki Soliloquy

"Nothing fancy. Just casual clothes is fine." Makala heaved a sigh of relief. Outside of a quick shower & hygiene routine, there wasn't much of a demand at this exhibition beyond participation. Yet he dreaded the strung noses & scoffs some lowborn Jovian might inspire in the company of Babylonians. Whether or not it was a performance, getting in the bad faith of these political entities might warrant more trouble than otherwise. Perhaps they have dress-up prepared for us once we arrive. He fidgeted a clump of his damp black & cream strands from the recession of his hood - recycling his signature jetsuit jacket yet again. No matter the anti-frizz, he didn't have the patience nor attention to dry down to his scalp. This just seemed a common inconvenience of bathing, though how it could be a conspicuous faux pas for the venue choice & after even just 4 hours rubbing elbows with his new crew. The metro car breezed through the intertwined tunnels circumnavigating the vestibules along the Grand Station route. The time constraints made him heavily consider compak, bending to his stinginess in the end. Security drones had increased their vigil throughout Eupraxia out to its vicinity, delaying the commute by "3 sammiches EPA" as Mak put. Come to think of it, this is the 2nd day of tryouts. Twiddling his phone between the mesh of his baggy sleeves, he peered over to the homebrew launcher that would get him over to Mi7ts. Wouldn't this be a private demonstration? Suppose I oughta hype it up, show those gluehuffin' bookies. Diiinnn, dmmmmb! "Now arriving at, Grand Station-Star Harbor. Please remain seated until full stop. Doors will open on the right."

"Good morning, on behalf of the guest services desk, we've annulled your previous request & reprocessed your order. We apologize for any inconvenience, on behalf of the Suites at Euprax-" "Seven times already? Enough of your frumbrioli imbrolgioles." Makala pressed the ejection panel on the pillbox-shaped service drone's mainframe. Pfffffst! The front compartment released to the hiss of compressed coolant wafting through its grilled vents. A tray unfolded, presenting a ribbed box lined with foil at the edges. Makala swiped it with enough velocity to cause the tray to shuffle upon return. "Please do not hesitate to issue any further service requests, should any errors or defections be found." "Don't mention it." Makala slunk back into his room, shoving the door. Waiting for the squeak of a coil, he then pressed a few fingers until he traced the interior of the blank locking scanner where most hollow. His hand receded wrist deep, dribbling his tongue at his syrup-encrusted lip as clawed at a corrugation surfacing beneath his grip. From the crease, he lodged some kind of button-operated switch soldered to a brick of circuits, chips, & diodes bound in masking tape. All jury-rigged to the generational frame between through adapters. The switch crackled to a pop, leading a thrum coursing along the lateral slats within the door's locking mechanism. Since childhood shadowing his father on the junking lines, the supervisors occasionally dismissed workers clocking out with some of the components & systems left over from their convoys. Granted, there was enough precious metals to reclaim per cubic meter satisfying quota. Most of the supply got strung along to tight-knit antiquarian shops (or 'cargo cultists' much to their chagrin), reconstructing facsimiles of these machines as if they were dinosaur fossils: memories of an unreachable age only possible knowing one planet. But with enough documentation paired with hands-on methodology, a few generations of the Barrios line managed to refurbish & maintain whatever computers or appliances they were able to scrounge. Makala's learned eye recognized how different methodologies informing ancient tech designs, coming to abhor the myopic movement towards 'automation' as manual modes phased out along the 21st century. Said manual designs weren't 'far future', so Makala embraced the security & functionality of said designs to circumvent the kudzu of 25th century data integration. "Hell hath no fury like the Phillips II," Makala quipped, sauntering to the fridge. He smirked at the stock of instant meals he purloined from the hotel's service kitchen since last evening. "Bitch out the pencil neck at the desk one meal after another, switch around the fibs enough times, who's losin' when my card ledger's basically zero split? Aye, us kids gots'ta eat free!" He unsealed the plastic lid of the fresh box. Sizzling was heard from the bottom heating element activating from contact with oxygen. The tack loaf within rose as it hydrolyzed, oozing a red jam caked between yellow grahams of cream. Seasoned grounds and tomato pureé waft from a stream of steam as the ricotta lasagna was ready to serve - prepared within seconds to the authentic touch that would've taken 10-20 minutes by a chef's hands. Makala took his first moist spoonful as he sank into his phone, scrolling along his Odyssey contacts. His index acting like a compass to the magnetic allure of Mewlanie's listing, a butterfly under his belly realizing he now owned his heroine's digits. Choking a moan, he clicked on her name - only to realize all team contacts were linked to a mass text sent by Hitomi. "Sipa Lugal, C-142? How many hours ago~!?" Perhaps he slept through the ping? Or the security AIs were limiting bandwidth? Whatever the excuse, he had to get going. "¿Por favor me be wearings?" ...PING!

Another idle morning, only a day next to the Batcon incident. Makala rolled himself into burrito upon the mattress. Black matts of hair drape out from his scalp, siddling & wobbling perhaps from inquistion in comfort. "Why would they ever care enough?" He rolled towards his weathered cellphone, the indent of his hand glossed overtime by sweat. Shuffling out of the blanket, his lower half was stained, covered by hot pink tights, Mewlanie's stream insignia (or its vague impression, as if in low DPI) stitched to the bandwidth of his ass. Most certainly custom order. He was able to share contacts with the rest of the Odyssey. No word unsurprisingly, even if he expected a 2nd meetup point to be disseminated across the team. There was a Babylonian mansion projection being hyped up during the con week. Maybe Hitomi & Linus would opt for a splendid venue. No Mewlanie stream today either. Mewly Mews... I know you're still cheering for me. For, us? With the AI's insurgency leaving Batcon yesterday, he chalked it up to those tensions. Involved at the epicenter of a contra-federational conspiracy no less. He had the room's hologlass tuned onto various news media & net feeds. Surely, reports would've come out from Eupraxia explaining the 'network anomoly' at Batcon. "Heightened security this. Babylonian hacker cabals, that. Blah blah. Sweet mamosa Jove, you can't live down the stream snips from yo exhibs! But who knew? FO Ticks're too busy chaff'n lube themselves over the warship circlejerk."

Makala's slump shuffled, the cold reception from Karina & Linus confirming a strain of mistrust. Alas, his cocky jeer held - these were the reactions he wanted, and expected considering he lost count of the years where he came to rely on his abrasiveness fulfilling his impressions. This never took course with his father, yet Linus exhibited a shred of his magnanimity. "Ohoh, si wanna mora de mi? Hmm hmmph, how flatulating! Besides, I no planned to be tailin' off even if you says no, no? Muchas gracias we gets to keeps on the playings." Pirouetting to rise, his glance switched to Karina. He shrugged his neck out, as if scanning down her spine, the glower of his left eye leering beneath the corner of his skunk tail fringe. "Muuuuy, stale maymays? Si, is glad to hears' catch you knows lotta the archaic bullshetin boars! IIRC me's gotta coupla hard drives rigged up on uno me spare mainframes at hotel. Dun's knows WTF contents be findings, if'n you's wants the see."

Alexis, init? Euprax's onto it, onto us? C'mooon, its not like I spoofed my BattleTag or anything. Just after the Class A made themselves known to their corner of the entire showfloor, it was somewhat relieving to know that the officials had caught wind of the intrusions. Makala could only hope they were able to clean up any tracks left by the rogue. Even if they quarantined the network, then its no better who the gaoler is. "Uuhh- R-Really, did, really, YOU went AFK after all, MonkaS? To the demostrar when's system get the penetrars? Euprax network muy grandé, so wards need to automate its watchings, no? You think, si much credits up top, securitas no bueno por que? Network's almost haxor proof, no gusta admin get pwn cuz key set spell name of pet. So rogue AI must be sophisticate to tab system almost full scale & pequeno vulns exploit. Class A mean AI's source real advance core, so damage matrix, then poof! Pero que, whoever do this such high authoritas, they would have access to the architecture."

Makala sighed, rising as he ran his fingers through his scalp. "El vejo, who you have that give pinche over las promo A and not Euprax? All you got's do, prod vulnerabilities and seize la chromo boto by cajoles!" He twisted his hand, clutching at air with a squeeze for emphasis - in case Linus wasn't keen on how serious he was. "Que, who es say Euprax wards not already do this? Dun you think es personal army for Odyssey just for tryouts. Profiling with military AI no squeak in my wheelhouse, well, not unless you have price. Any hole, can we go to hotel back, mi hombre?"

Makala managed to snail his way under the table, across his stool, past his teammate's eyes locked on each seated. Only one arm was enough to grovel past, his other applied to the pangs of the lower spine. The table talk barbed for any thread that could've trailed off the AI. Seemed this 'Carmen' had enough stitching to snag. He could've swore he heard Melanie squeaking back at someone. Mmmm, kitty in estrus. Seeing the Triomphant crash, to lacing her exhaustion over team speak, he didn't anticipate this fragility from his idol. She still was so untouchable, above the stuffy con atmosphere which would glide off the aura of her trills, kitten lips, or cheerful performances. To have them all blast down from the smartglass got him to roll up with a blush. They're onto him. Mak sighed. "No comprendo, where el happenings, famalam?" He found himself around four inches away from & below Mewlanie. Smirking sheepishly as his hand lingers, he coiled himself upright to seat. He threw back his blue hood to release the pressing heat on his head, releasing black frizz & dandriff. He fidgeted at his bleach fringe over his left eye.

Oooh, seems to be so. Its just, Rapier hasn't said whether or not he has a system/format in place before this begins. That w/o world direction, just makes me weary about joining early. If there's a mass PM or Discord about organizing, please PM me to invite. I'll check through it at the least.

Hold on, shouldn't @Rapier have the final say on the game itself, and thus who gets to do the worldbuilding? Assuming he is going to be the GM.

Makala became entrenched within his little microcosm of Mi7ts vLeague, ducking below the table as to drown out the noise & urgency of the Odyssey regroup. Perhaps, not even noticing they had arrived before he was prepared to deliberate on the rogue AI attack. Moreso, it wasn't just the service itself. Flambre's under-performance chaffed upon his odds: <[HK Lvl 5]AraConz1500 - 11:17:41> "Love Mi7itz, where else can i smell the salt when you lost allmost 1kil do us dirty lmao. But thats not enough for some scrub booker trying suckering you chums for 2000 @ 1400 cred pop like there handouts. Premium bois arent liking this." <[JC Lvl 4]Hardbody_The_Show - 12:31:07> "BUT HE TRIED HIS HARDEST :kFabe:" <[Euprax Live Lvl 7]Batnet_fan_1850> "LOL 4230 cred, get real your fucked frenz. <3 part when OP wanted the Gold 3 upstart to shred the comp. Flambre was it? See yall next week @ salty bets!" <[HK Lvl 5]AraConz1500 - 12:32:33> "RIP Odyssey, they got fake girls, tryhards, & feeders. BB & Bullet can't pull out after you know got merc'd IRL." <[MC<3 Lvl 1]M00kz33z_M3W_CR3W_Offical - 12:33:45> "I no u w3r @ s733m exh1bz fgt, B@net duzn7 wUn 2 m3k mun3z 4 u but 7h37 c@/|/7 k3p s3rvz f70m atk ffs." <[HK Lvl 5]CrimsonFlame - 12:32:54> "Cmon i know its Odyssey being dumb than scumb, if you nubs were handing out 15000 dailys here then you recoop your 15 lose records. What you got is sharks turnin cardboard tier pools into high stakes shit. You played yourself" <[MC<3 Lvl 1]M00kz33z_M3W_CR3W_Offical - 12:33:23> "U no how m7ne waifu dremz g07 kr0sh4 wh3r she finish last seas? D1z kril playin n k1m0n0z @ async & u thnx she no c100chin sum tail sh0wn 2 B@con LMAO" <MisfitBot* - 12:34:54> [This message is under review. If you believe this was in error, please contact your Xen4All adminstrator.] {Msg. ID#: ADM - B530 - B562 - 0303 - 10} <[deleted user] - 13:53:57> "Class A?" <[deleted user] - 13:54:00> "U guys dont fuck arnd w/ that. U wanna shut down?" Huff... Makala felt enough cover upon his stool below the table, even if circulating his sour exhaust was starting to make him feel dizzy. Pnnnff! Rising up only sent his thud down the row. He shuffled back to crouch. "No, not the coccyx! And chrome alloys don't budge, pah...!"

I would just have to wait to see how this plays out early. The concept has potential, and its about the time 3H started to mold any new RPs here.

Café patronage had whimpered down to such a halt, that whichever congoers seeking refuge within almost felt like intruders to one another - their words echoing with the drifting quiet. He preemptively stationed Odyssey's pending 'wellness check' at the same chromatic table Hitomi & Linus set signups from. His eyes darted from each errant corner of the court to another, twiddling his thumbs as he scrunched down around the legs of his chair. Vrrrmph-vrrrmph. Makala smacked his palms against his phone vibrating against his pockets, as if he caught his skin exposed in the open. Fishing it out, he unlocked his screen. He sucked his cheeks in as he began to scroll past. There was 1 new notification on Mi7ts vLeague.

Hotel room, I just wanna go back to the hotel room. Bunting his shoulders, shoving anyone else along his way, the heightened dread of the crowd made it seem like pulling thick branches just to pivot towards the café. The sudden power cut certainly didn't help either. "Damnit, this whole outing was a mistake. Lemme get this Odyssey shi-hwwwaaaaauuh?" Caught between the frenetic reach of... the Keizerin firebrand, and moi teeny mewieblob? "Oh, you two, we need to... regroup, in the café. For Hitomi."

Byleth speaks upon level up, in battle, selecting him on the map, etc. Then there's FEH which I assume has even more monologues.

My point there, since we unfortunately don't have the tech nor artistic ingenuity for a solution that would inure a fictional character's performance away from their performer for the sake of their victim(s) comfort, I would prefer for companies to not oblige themselves to weigh a statement & 'right their wrong' by interfering in their finished production like this. Yes, don't work with Niosi after this. Take whatever measures to restrict him from the industry until, I dunno, after years when he's gotten enough outstanding refs to change his tune? But I wager it doesn't affect me nor (presumably) you - on a level where your everyday living is compromised or threatened - that some celebrity abused his ex-girlfriend. It reminds me how news media covers tragedies - make it all about who did it, do nothing to help the hurt heal.