WEEK 1

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (1)

tuesday - thursday (41) survivors Yesterday's revelation weighs heavily on your mind — or perhaps it's barely crossed it. Either way, you have to admit that the atmosphere of the ship has changed dramatically. Now that everyone has had a night's rest (or perhaps no sleep at all, despite the newfound hospitality), a change of clothes, and their newly acquired possessions back. Despite the dark turn of events, the ship is quite bright now, seemingly bubbling with life — mechanical life, that is. The cafeteria robot was busy all night preparing an illustrious breakfast for everyone, so anyone who enters the cafeteria on Tuesday morning will find platters of food laid out across the many tables, hot and ready to eat. Other than that, the ship seems mostly the same as it was before. The same areas are still restricted, such as the large room looming in the center of the ship as well as the elevator that never comes no matter how many times you may press the up or down buttons. It seems you must make the most of your dire situation, and watch your back for daggers all the while. taken list profiles private conversations setting rulebook murder proposals ENTER COMMAND_

Comments

[isodope]

tuesday - cafeteria

[Once Hancock finds his clothes, he immediately switches into them and begins walking around in his fancy colonial duds. He feels like himself again. But, there is still one problem. The tacky ass jumpsuit that smells disgusting because it was all he wore for the past few days. Got to get rid of it - permanently.

So after breakfast passes (which he skips) he'll make his way over to the cafeteria. Armed with some alcohol from the med bay and a towel from his bathroom, he dumps almost half the bottle over his jumpsuit. Then he chucks the clothes into a sink, turns on the stove to light his towel on fire and -- you get the point right?

He's burning his fucking jumpsuit in the sink, is the point, and cackling like a mad man as he does.]

wednesday - parlor

[So he has very little concept of how these tablets work, but they are good for one thing - somehow it has most all tracks of Diamond City Radio. Because Travis' signal can transmit to pretty much fucking anywhere, even in goddamn space.

And of course he's listening to the best song on it: Butcher Pete.

Well, no, more accurately, he's also sing-shouting along with it.]

Ever since Pete flew into town, he's been havin' a ball! Just cuttin' and choppin' for miles around - single women, married women, old maids and all!

[And yes, he gets the metaphor, as he laughs when the chorus chimes in again. But does anyone who's coming across his singing get it?]

cafeteria

[unasking]

[Frankenstein has since been outed as being old as dirt, which also means that he's not bothering to keep up the butler facade anymore. However he's still looking sharp in a three-piece suit, even though there's clearly no one to impress.

Especially here in the kitchen where it reeks of burning jumpsuit and there's just a cackling Hancock.

When he steps through, he immediately closes the door behind him because why.]

Disgusting. If this smell permeates, you'll become the true villain of all this.

[isodope]

Franky! [Yes, he's still gonna keep calling you that.] I know, it's rancid. That's why I'm burning it to ashes.

[And also, it's very satisfying.]

[unasking]

And you think that releasing the odor in the air along with the smoke is much better?

[actually though is there like a vent that's going to release this smoke into space???

how well thought out was this]

Cafeteria

[tacklefordwhimsy]

[Shelley enters the cafeteria just to find Hancock burning the jumpsuit and cackling all the time. Yeeeeah, she is going to slowly turn around and mutter to herself]

Oh no, people are already losing their minds! I should stock provisions and look for a safe place.

[isodope]

Winters, I didn't lose nothin'. [He says, hearing her muttering over the sound of his own laughter.] This damn thing needed to burn away.

[tacklefordwhimsy]

[Dang, he heard her. Okay, she'll approach...]

I can't deny those jumpsuits were a crime against fashion, but this is not the pl-oh wow.

[Shelley just noticed what Hancock is wearing]

Wow, you look good! I'm impressed!

[isodope]

Haha, thanks! Told ya I clean up well.

[He never actually said that, but he'll act like it to boast.]

And fashion crime is just one thing they were. More importantly, they were the clothes of prisoners. And we aren't prisoners.

parlor

[hatslinger]

[ hey drinking buddy what's going on in here

fiona can't help but feel a bit apprehensive when she hears old timey jangle tunes, but when she notices it's hancock, she relaxes a bit. then she listens to the song. ]

"He's hacking, and wacking, and smacking?" [ way to leave out the dialect fiona. she narrows her eyes a bit. ] Is that supposed to be his schlong.

[ not even a question ]

[isodope]

Hell yeah! [Hancock bellows out a laugh as the song continues on.] Damn that Pete. I've probably listened to this song over a dozen times now. Always playing on the radio back home.

[hatslinger]

It's pretty nice. Better than most people's taste around here.

[ thank god this isn't top 20 pop garbage!! she takes a second to appraise hancock in his new duds, though. he's like a new man. her look isn't too far off, really. ]

I dig the look by the way. That's an awesome hat. A nice hat is an often underappreciated centerpiece of any ensemble.

cafeteria

[bloodteller]

[ what a sight! yuno can't help but be attracted to the carnage, and when she makes her way over, she's donning something quite casual. it's plain to see what hancock's burning, and now that she knows his name, it's much easier to socialize! mostly. ]

It's not just for warmth, right?

[ maybe she should join in... something to get the anger out. ]

[isodope]

Nope! That damn jumpsuit was a prison uniform. And it smelled. Had to get rid of it for good. You're free to burn yours too if you want, kiddo.

[bloodteller]

[ a short moment of deliberation later: ]

Okay!

[ and she slips away, running to her room to gather the surely company issued uniform. when she returns, despite being out of breath, she wears a smile. ]

I've never burned clothes before, Mr. Hancock, but... I've never been on a space ship, either.

[ a series of firsts, it seems. that's all she offers before eagerly tossing them into the fire, and it grows to account for the new set of prison duds. ]

tuesday

[brooches]

[ The cinnamon toast was all she'd ask for. It was an indulgence, but one she didn't get to finish before a burst of flame completely catches her peripheral. Elizabeth has to leave her toast and see what the hell was going on.

She was ready to show concern, but least she be a "square", she simply watches as he scene unfold.

He may notice she's actually dressed more akin to him than some weird space uniform now. ]

Was that necessary? You could have just flushed it down the toilet.

[isodope]

[He turns around and grins, easily feeling a more old-timey vibe from her fashion sense.]

Well it would have just clogged. And I need a working toilet - a luxury I don't often get back home.

[Seriously, the toilets are pretty banged up and nasty.]

Besides, this is symbolic. It's the burning of oppression!

[brooches]

[ RIP working plumbing in the Commonwealth.

He does have a point - she recalls how many things were set aflame by the Vox, but hand to her nose because man, the fumes left over were bad. ]

As long as it is not a hazard, I guess .... I'm happy for you.

[ Honestly. ]

Just try and find a way to cover the smell?

tuesday!

[jackhole]

[ hey, hancock! time to finally meet rhys..... this is gonna be great. except rhys is in the middle of trying to get the robot to make him some skag -- ]

C'mon, it's like. Skag? How do you not know what fried skag is, you rusted piece of metal. Holy shit.

[ but then pauses as hancock comes sweeping in and... lights his jumpsuit on fire. well then. now rhys has no skag, it stinks, and there's some freak setting fire to things in front of him.

so, time to call out helpfully! ]

Hey, asshole. Stop stinking up the place. Also, your face looks like a skag pissed in a Psycho's mouth and then ate it. Cover that thing up.

[isodope]

[He can take the stinking comment, but the face comments? He just turns around to Rhys with a devious smile.]

I'm gonna pretend like you didn't say that shit to me just now, because I'm in a good mood and this fire is crackling. [He jabs a finger toward the flames and snerks.] Of course, if you feel like repeating yourself... I'd be happy to make sure you never say another shitty comment about me again.

[Yes, Rhys, he would commit the first murder over an insult.]

wednesday.

[erythristic]

[just...give her a minute to watch his singing with a raised eyebrow. it's not because of how he looks - it's because of whatever's coming out of the tablet.]

Is this truly what the fate of music is destined to be?

[she absolutely gets the metaphor, if the look on her face says anything. a song sung by drunkards in a bar is one thing - but this isn't quite the same, is it?]

[isodope]

Yep! Well... no, this music is actually hundreds of years old by my time standards, but it's about one of 20 songs that actually still exist.

[And it happens to be his 3rd favorite song of 20.]

If you don't like it, madame, I'd be happy to change it up.

[erythristic]

Hundreds...do you mind me asking what century you're actually from?

[hold on, she's processing this. space is one thing. time travel is another. at this rate what's next, a unicorn made of precious gemstone to waltz down the hallway? lord, she doesn't know.]

cafeteria

[muties]

[ roxy just wants something to drink, that's all she came here for, not to witness clothes massacre via fire. what the fuck is that smell. what is happening in here. wh ]

Whoa, dude. Maybe chill it with the pyromania? You're gonna burn the ship down.

[ that is clearly a thing that can happen right, space stations are flammable right. ]

[isodope]

What? Nah, I'm sure that won't happen. [He's not sure at all.] What are you, an engineer?

[muties]

Maybe I am. [ she is not at all. ] Certified spaceship engineer, got my degree from Space College. It's a private school, v prestigious.