buywithme: (Look away)
[Video clicks on, annnnnd PREFECT TIME! The Camera is set up on Prefect's desk, and he's sitting in front of it. He looks slightly agitated, as if he's just trying to think of something, but he can't get it to come to his mind. Finally, he speaks, but his voice is slow, careful. As if he's not quite sure if he wants to be saying this.]

We used to say that-- that god was dead, and that history was dead, and that we'd built the Factory on their bodies. So that was always how I used to think of God, as this... abandoned idea, that didn't matter anymore. Or as a historical figure. It was like saying the Queen of England was dead, or that Elvis was dead. They were these insignificant institutions that had no meaning to me. Honestly, I think we only even said that he was dead because it was catchy.

[Pause. Prefect is obviously thinking haaaard about this.]

I used to just ignore Howie when he talked about God. I think... in my head, he was like this person, who desperately wanted to talk about something that no one else anywhere cared about, and that nobody else wanted to hear about. People would get into arguments with him, and say things just to upset or offend him. Eventually people began targeting him and attacking him because he wouldn't stop talking about this completely pointless thing, but he kept on talking about it.

[He gives a helpless little shrug.] It took me a long time to make the connection between the entire way Howie lived his life, and that thing he wouldn't stop talking about. He was such a good warden, Comrades. In times when there really weren't any good wardens, he was always such a good warden. He was here for years, and in that time, no matter what happened to him, he is... literally, the only person on this entire ship that I can think of, who never acted out of pure selfishness. He was always driven by the belief that he had to do what was right. For his inmate... his friends, his enemies... for all of us. [He shakes his head, looking up slightly.] And that, Comrades, is absolutely unique here, and this thing that he believed in? That I only ever saw as this weird, unpleasant tendency? This thing that got him into trouble and made his life hard and that irritated me? That was the same thing that he got his strength from, and that made him believe that it was important to be that kind of person.

[Prefect frowns now, his forehead knitting slightly, as he looks down at his hands.] The thing he got from it... I don't know, I don't know if it made him happy. His life never seemed happy to me. It didn't make him stronger, or more convincing, or smarter than anyone else, but he never gave it up. It was like his faith made him... unstoppable. Indestructible. And it made him a better man than any of us.

[As Prefect speaks, his voice gets a little distant, forlorn even.] Sometimes, I think he must have felt about God, the way I used to feel about the Factory. Only for me... the Factory tore people down, it made them into components, or functions. For Howie, being God's creations elevated people. It made them more than what they were. [He has his arms wrapped around his stomach, and he's looking off Camera a little. His expression is almost sad. Finally, his eyes flick back towards the communicator.]

So, Comrades... I was wondering...

[Prefect visibly steels himself:]

...does anyone know what you have to do to become a Christian?

[Added after speaking to O'Brien, Private to Barron]

Comrade, do I owe you a drink?
buywithme: (declanpout)


I mean, post-graduate Comrades... or... long term resident institutionalized Comrades, or really just anyone who thinks this makes sense to them. Do you ever feel like... I mean, did anyone else start out disliking it here and thinking that it was entirely wrong, then eventually came around to thinking that even though they weren't happy here, maybe what was happening and what the wardens were doing was something that needed to happen, and then eventually, if you started to think that it was entirely right, what was happening here, did thinking that you were doing the right thing by being here make you begin to like it?

[That probably didn't make sense, did it? Let's try again.]

I mean, what I meant to say was that... [Fffff, let's try for some context on why he's worrying here:]

Back home in the Factory I didn't really have friends. Or books, or alcohol, or hobbies, or free will. And I didn't technically get paid for my work, and everything I did was evil, but I was happy and I felt fulfilled because I believed that what I was doing was right. So, I guess what I'm saying, Comrades, is that it has come to my attention that I have a tendency to look for validation through my work and that I'm afraid I might have accidentally slipped into being blindly subservient to the Admiral because that is exactly the kind of thing that I could imagine myself doing.

I mean, it could be that I actually like it here and that I really do think that being a warden is a good thing, I'm not sure how you're supposed to tell the difference in these circumstances, Comrades.

[Private to O'Brien]

Comrade, did you know you can put alcohol in coffee?
buywithme: (shower1)
[Audio clicks on. Prefect's getting all geared up to give a big speech, like he always does when anything within a three mile radius of the barge somehow offends him.

A couple of deep breaths are taken.

There's a long pause, then a low, wordless groan. There's a slight creaking sound, footsteps, then a sudden crash, and a loud banging sound, like things falling, then something being beaten against wood. Inaudible muttering is just about picked up by the feed, as Prefect is apparently talking to himself. There's another crash, followed a louder, more frustrated groan, then more crashing. The sound of boxes falling goes on for a while.

Finally, most of the noise subsides, and there's just a rhythmic thudding sound. This sound continues on for a while.]

[ooc: SO, Harvey left. Prefect was going to make a post of his usual thinly veiled whining, but when he got to the point of actually having to make the post, and say things about Harvey being gone? Just how he felt about it suddenly hit home, and he found himself suddenly incapable of verbalizing the scale of his feelings about this.

So he had a quiet tantrum, wrecked his room up, and is now bashing his head against a wall c:

Feel free to spam if your character knows where he is/would want to personally investigate this matter!]


Apr. 21st, 2010 02:46 pm
buywithme: (Oh.)
Comrades! Consumers! Let us never be disheartened by recent traumas and let us remember that this kind of thing happens all the time here. We lose our identities, and we turn on each other, and we forget who we are, and we vanish into the aether and we... we continue, Comrades. We persist.

I've started to think that when the floods aren't too traumatic, and when we don't fall overboard into ports that want to kill us, and when people aren't trying to kill one another quite so enthusiastically, and when the vampires aren't starving and when there are no bears around...


I don't think I hate it here anymore.

Sometimes... sometimes, someone'll say something, or do something, or ask me to do something, and... I'll know that it's wrong. I'll know that there's a regulation against it somewhere, but... I don't remember what it is anymore. I don't remember why I can't do it anymore. I still miss my home. I miss the Factory, but sometimes I don't-- I don't remember what it is I miss about it. The details are fuzzy, I can't pick them out as well anymore.

It scares me, Comrades, but this place is starting to feel like my home.

[Filtered away from people who he knows won't want him to have alcohol]

There is very little I wouldn't do for something to drink, right now.

Private to self

Message Number 100, issued. It seems like such a small number, when I've been here so long.

97 - Voice

Mar. 4th, 2010 02:17 am
buywithme: (Default girl)
Brothers and Sisters, I don't think being a woman has been at all bad.

I feel proportionately more tall, and more attractive than I usually do, and I've enjoyed being able to contemplate a slightly altered bone structure and how best to compliment it with a whole host of high quality cosmetics which have been suffering neglect amongst my assorted stock. I think that if the flood didn't end? I could function quite sufficiently as I am right now, without any real concern.

That being said, I look forward to everything being back to normal here. I don't know if it's everyone arguing about sex all the time, or just not being able to recognize anyone I know anymore, but--

[Her voice has been a complete monotone for most of this, but it hitches slightly here. There's a moment of hesitation, and then she continues, voice unchanged.]

But, I warmly anticipate the restoration of factory settings in the physical manifestation of gender.

[ooc: So, prefect's been a chick before, and he rather enjoys it, and he wasn't overcome with the desire to test drive his vagina (he did an exploritory solo mission last time, thank you very much), so I figure he's just spent the week getting progressively more hormonal and quiet and weepy, and the barge being suddenly unfamiliar and obsessed with sex hasn't helped much.]
buywithme: (facepalm)
Everything that mattered was--

Oh god, I couldn't ha--

...Is anyone all right?

I didn't mean too-- I mean... being that person...


I'm sorry, Comrades. I promise never to try and do anything like that again.

[P.S. death toll in the infirmary goin' on here, so feel free to spam!]
buywithme: (Default)
I was wrong.

I don't know if you can call this a flood, I don't know for certain if they can be trusted, but god knows the world they talk about... It's better than this. It has to be better than this. There is a light out there in the darkness, a place where we do more than hide in the shadows, a place where change means--

Where it means what we want it to mean, and not what they make of it.

Brothers, Sisters, they are saying that this is our last best chance for change, that we could take this boat inch by inch. Well, If it's to be our last best chance then let that be because we take more than an inch this time! Let us take it all!

Brothers, Sisters, stand with me, and fight now!

The last time we tried this, we tasted their strength and we found our own weaknesses, so this time we go into it prepared and we don't crack under the pressure! We only need the items assigned to those of us who move first, by the time the rest find out, it'll be too late for their items to warn them.


Private to Sam ) Private to Harvey )

[ooc: Apologies in advance for the tl;dr, but PREFECT IS PLANNING SOME SHINY NEW OVERTHROW OF THE POWER! I'll put up an ooc plotting thread for people to hash out who's actually interested in taking part (because I don't want to force Prefects list of high risk targets into this plot if they're not interested in it, especially since this is thematically close as all fuck to the original riot, so yeah, plotting thread to see how many people want to play etc) but yeah, if people are interested? VIVA LA REVOLUTION!]
buywithme: (facepalm)
[Prefect starts this sales pitch with the kind of forced happiness for which he's famed!]

Comrades! Consumers! In this time of holiday cheer, it's important for us to remember what's important! And what is important, is that we have relics of our existence. Things. Things that we bought. Or that someone else bought, or things we picked up in places we paid to go visit. Things that we want. Just... things. The thing is, they aren't just things. They're not just things to anyone, they're status symbols, or badges of honor or curiosity or popularity, or they're memories of the time you bought them, the time that you wanted them desperately and loved them honestly, and let them define you, even if it's only for a few seconds, before you forget they're even there at all.

They still matter, they make you- and, and it's not just objects, Comrades, it's not just objects, it's other things as well. Objects are the best way for us to understand it, the most accessible way to really own something, but it's not just objects, it's about our bodies as well, about the tattoo you got on your butt when you and your boyfriend thought that cartoon kittens would be the "in thing" forever, and it's the holes running down the skin of your arms from when you tried suspension therapy, and it's the sick feeling you get in your stomach when you smell bananas because even though you can't remember that time when you were five years old and you ate a pot of banana lip gloss, it's still there...

[His voice drops a little so he's mumbling. Prefect appears to have forgotten that he's actually making this public.]

Stupid, like being afraid of people you know don't want to hurt you

[And it perks back up a little! For a moment, you get Factory standard happy!Prefect, before he fades back into his usual voice]

You break it, you buy it! And you bought it so long ago you don't even know why it's there, but it still is. It doesn't care whether you still want it, it's still there, it still matters. It's your scars, and you might not like it, and you might not want it, but if it just... if it just disappears then that's a piece of you disappearing, and if you can just keep disappearing piece by piece then in the end what's left of you? If you aren't even yourself anymore, then how can you belong to anything? How can you ever belong anywhere but here?

[There's a long pause, and when he speaks again his voice is sort of distant, like he's moved away from the microphone.]

This place, this place isn't about fixing us. It's just about taking away our scars.

[ooc: Prefect found Pavi's room empty, and TO HIS CREDIT, only had a few drinks from those bottles of wine he got off Paddy and Snoop all those months ago. He intended to give a rousing sales pitch here, but it descended into sulking pretty quick :c]
buywithme: (Puppy dog eyes)
Is this--


Comrades? Are we--

[There's a long pause.]

I have-- cons--



Allow me to extend my fondest and most sincere greetings to you from the end of history! I’m quite sure you know my name: Prefect. Are we not the most highly favored of all our kinds to be here? In this, our new chance? Our new and open doorway? The compilation of not only millennia of history and experience, but worlds upon worlds of variety and flavor, all compressed into one microcosmic existence? Lain out for us on a platter? Let us not mourn our misfortune or dream of escape, but rather, let us combine and create and expand in our scope and diversity! Once more unto the breach my friends once more! Let us immanentize the eschation!

Brothers, sisters, comrades, buy with me.

[Ooc: Okay, so Prefect is back, and where he was that week lasted a lot longer than it did here. As such, he's worried that the people he knew will have all either graduated or just vanished off. Instead of being sensible and asking, he's re-written his original greeting post in case he's just surrounded by strangers.]
buywithme: (Pouting)
Comrades, this? Is why television is better than books. No one ever got sucked into a television, and even if they had? They could have just walked off the set and later sued the producers.

Books can't do anything that television can't do better. They're less colorful, they don't have moving images or words, they don't come with their own music, you can only do one thing at a time when reading a book, and there are numerous other design faults not least of which is that people apparently can be sucked into them and forced to participate!

In the Factory there were 708 channels and frequencies broadcasting into the Western Production lines, and we wanted for nothing.
buywithme: (facepalm)
Brothers, Sisters, how much do you think happens in a year? I mean, things-- things just pass you by, don't they? Even if a celebrity dies it's only news for a few weeks, a month and a half at the most and then everyone's distracted by whatever else is happening. Once they've been dead for a whole year? It's like, a completely different world. Everything's changed. Even if they were still alive everything would be different and so would they be.

They'd be forever confined to a separate dimension of "when they were famous", and "best of the 20's", and they'd only ever get work as a novelty act.

A years a really long time in the real world. You miss it and then its just gone. Ater a year you're all rotted away anyway. Comrades, Consumers, consider the concept of "vintage".

Or... something.

[There's a considerable amount of background noise to this post, as Prefect has clearly set off into one of the more busy parts of town.]

Okay, so, No one died, no one was tortured, nothing terrible happened, and now we're at a port which... actually doesn't seem that bad. So far? I'd say this is my favorite overthrowing of the dominant power structure, so I think it would be a good idea to quit while we're ahead and never do it again please.

[There's a little pause, along with the sound of a locals voice close to the communicator, followed by a slight scuffle as Prefect retreats quickly. When he speaks again there's a slight agitation in his voice.]

Which is not to say that this place is anywhere close to perfect, Comrades, the entire concept of even attempting to get clean in those--


Uh, I'd rather not think about it actually.

[OOC: Prefect found the Roman Bath houses! Also, repost so it's AFTER Kirk's announcment]


buywithme: (Default)

October 2013



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