Big Things Have Small Beginnings is a neo-noir scifi RPG, based on the works of Ridley Scott (think: the brilliant mind behind the films Alien, Blade Runner, and Prometheus). We're set in the year 2093, thirty years before Ripley's ship took off. Weyland Industries, the face of new technology and advanced space travel, funded Project Prometheus. They set out to discovered the origins of mankind...and found so much more. Mankind is now reeling with the new discovery. Meanwhile, infections are spreading in other colonies, the military outpost is training in the event of an alien attack, and rescue ships have been sent out to find Prometheus. The space race is over; now, it's a race for survival.
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Member No.: 1
Joined: 23-September 12
All those attending the holiday party have received THIS INVITATION in the mail.
The free shuttle has escorted you to Nightingale Colony. You've found your way over to the Atrium, a recently constructed building in the center of the colony. As you walk through the entrance, you can see a glass dome overhead, which gives an excellent view of the starry sky and Nightingale's two moons, Angkor Colony in the distance. Through the entrance way, the lobby splits off into two floors, littered with wealthy guests dressed in the latest trends. On the upper floors, you can find restrooms and a theatre which holds exotic performances throughout the night. On the first floor, you can find an array of refreshments and a ballroom for dancing and mingling. In the center of the ballroom, there's a large Christmas tree. Out the back, there's a garden with an array of beautiful plants, straight from Hera. Watch out for the Mistletoe hanging around the garden.
Mingle. Enjoy the atmosphere. And ring into the season with style.
OOC: This is the official thread for the HOLIDAY EVENT. You may post your character in this thread, and do pretty much what you please. After you have posted your character in this thread first, you are welcome to set up your own threads for "private" roleplays between you and another character if you wish and if you feel the main thread is getting too crowded.
At some point in the thread, there will be a twist post by The Engineer which will change the course of the thread. Please have your characters react appropriately to the presented content.
This thread will all take place over the course of one night. However, the actually thread will stay open for the rest of December. Since it is an event, feel free to make shorter posts than you might normally make in order to keep it going at a quick pace (no one-liners, but couple short paragraphs are fine). Happy posting!
Group: MILITARY ADMIN
Member No.: 15
Joined: 4-November 12
Mal hated parties.
Retract that. She hated extravagant parties. If they had a beer keg in the corner and a couple druggies smoking poppers, maybe she'd be interested. This was far, far out of her league. Still, she CLEANED UP WHEN SHE HAD TO, stuffing herself into a slim black dress. Black leather jacket on top, because she couldn't shed all of her skin right away. It was a miracle she'd gotten into a dress. She couldn't remember the last time she'd "woman'ed up" and shrugged on a dress and heels. Nine times out of ten, it was her military uniform or sweatpants with very little grey areas.
Still. She'd needed to get off-earth. Sure, she should have been back on Earth. Back at NASA. Training for her next expedition. Running the treadmill, doing the psych evaluations, going through the simulations. But Mal had two good reasons to avoid training. One, being that she was military grade, she was already a step ahead of the others, who had yet to even be off-earth. Two, they'd given the group a much needed break. No use wearing them raw before the mission even began. Something to get their heads on straight and let them breath their last breath of earth-air before they were transported out to LV-223. Lonely rock.
As for Mal, she couldn't think of anywhere she wanted to be less than earth. So the first opportunity she saw to get off world, she took it. A free shuttle to Nightingale. She was in. Granted, as a soldier, she got some benefits all around the colonies. Cheaper flights, cheaper hotels. But free airfare was free airfare and off-world was off-world. Never mind that is was clearly some egotistical Weyland executive's excuse to inflate his ego a little more.
So she might have overestimated her desire to leave earth. Nightingale wasn't for her. Too flashy, too glitzy, too self-conscious. The Atrium was its own gaudy experiment; above her, she could see the night black, something that thrilled her and chilled her at the same time. Below, men and women skimmed passed, dressed all too glamorous. A giant ass Christmas tree caught her eye. Please. Mal quickly hunted down the bar and parked herself on one of the bar stools, slipping her sore feet out of her pointed heels. It was going to be a long night, and she planned on remembering very little of it.
Member No.: 12
Joined: 31-October 12
This had definitely been a rather...pleasant day.
Beyond the training, both physical and mental, Seymour had been lulled in a restless schedule, only presented this as a possibility to get out of the routine. The thread. The loop. Seymour's lips curled at his own jokes, knowing they were little things that only he could find funny.
But again, he did have motive to join the holiday party. Weyland Industries liked their people who liked them. And he certainly did enjoy his job, and the people above him. It only bothered him at the slightest that any sort of part of the company was handed only in favor of a relative of Peter, which seemed surprising in Seymour's mind. Had the man been even relatively interested in his own, real children, Seymour could have believed it. Just like Seymour, Peter had his own family mentality stuck between the circuit boards. It was one of the things that made Seymour actually enjoy the man...
But now wasn't the time, nor the place to daydream.
Dressed in one of his best suits , Seymour had slicked back his hair and prepared himself rather nicely. He was certainly a man that could stop eyes, though perhaps because of his own dull, blue ones. He hadn't cared for how he looked, to be completely honest, but appearances had to keep up appearances. He was not fishing for compliments nor a lover, but instead hoped that his professional appearance would draw attention from a certain Weyland. In order to get in, he needed an in.
As he drew into the party, he did his best to ignore the design of the Atrium. Nothing he would have picked to go on the walls, of course, but he wasn't a top-tier designer. Instead, he nestled towards the fringes of the people, scanning softly with his eyes and a suited staunch expression on his face.
Member No.: 24
Joined: 27-November 12
Nyssa hadn't wanted to come. Sure it was the holiday season, but she had patients to take care of, tests to run, results to analyze, the list went on and on. She couldn't waste time by going to a party. But somehow, her co-workers had convinced her to gt on the shuttle. Still, she had refused to leave till she had checked on each one of her worst cases, making sure each patient would be fine while she was gone.
Then, and only then, had she changed, and allowed her friend to lead her to the shuttle. She planned to slip out early, but her co-workers didn't need to know that.
She slipped into the Atrium, her eyes running up and down the walls. She hadn't been in a place this fancy in months. And the dress she wore felt oddly foreign. She couldn't remember the last time she had worn make-up or high heels. Her daily attire consisted of her scrubs, doctor's coat, and slip on shoes. She didn't like the way the blue, shimmery dress fit her, and she felt like she was going to trip in the shoes. She had used to like wearing stuff like this but she had gone so long without doing so that they no longer felt right.
She drifted away from the three people she had come with, mingling throughout the crowd, The glamours outfits, the smiles and laughter, the music, even the Christmas tree made her feel out of place. They had one in the hospital, but it was a small one, and no where near as decorated. She had been the one to suggest the idea. Despite the grim circumstances, she felt it was important to at least have a little Christmas feel.
She stood to the side, not quite sure what to do. She knew how to dance, but didn't feel like doing so.
The Atrium had been an easy choice. It was the definition of lavish. Long, winding staircases. A full ballroom. The overly-ornate Christmas tree, some genetic miracle shipped all the way from Hera City. Everything Bryan could have asked for (and Bryan made sure every detail was painfully perfect. After all, this was Bryan's home. This was his colony. Nightingale. This was his time to shine. And, more importantly, rub his success in his fellow representatives' faces. He was physically itching to see Reed's nose crumple in disgust at the over-the-top display of wealth, when so many on Angkor had so little. Boo fucking hoo.)
Speaking of. Angkor Colony. It had been the one misstep Bryan had not taken into account when he decided to host this party. Because as soon as he stepped into the Atrium and looked up to see the huge, impressive glass dome over head that showed an array of starts littering the sky, he could see it. Angkor Colony. That reddish rock in the distance. Looming. Always hanging over him. Enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth, which was hardly the way he wanted to begin his night. He remedied the situation by grabbing a flute of Champagne off a woman who was serving them on a platter and taking a swallow. Cute thing, too. If you went for that kind of thing. Bryan had much more specific tastes--perfection. In every possible form. The waitress was, at best, a 7 out of 10. Hardly perfect.
Bryan had arrived in style, as always--he was wearing a tailored suit, cut to fit his frame. Something simple, black and white, but ever distinguishable from anything else by its high thread count and silky touch. Something that both embraced his skin and poisoned him. Really, it was hard work to be this fucking beautiful.
He'd arrived with two body guards, who now fanned out to either side of the room. Dressed incognito, of course. No way he was going to let some guns and suits of armor blemish his party. Immediately, his eyes scanned for someone. Anyone. A friend. Ha. A friend. Funny word, something Bryan didn't really partake in. Instead, he was surrounded by a sea of lavishly dressed silks and cottons and synthetic fur coats. People with their noses turned high. People that made him sick. New Years Resolution, he thought to himself, stop hating your own kind.
So he'd settle for the next best thing. Someone who he could benefit from. And then he found him. Seymour Rekenber--he knew the man. He'd worked with his Uncle. But most disturbing was the man's eyes...some sort of android shit. Well. Might as well start sucking up. Bryan had been told on numerous occasions that he should be nicer to those his Uncle left behind. That's who Bryan was slated to be, right? Little Weyland.
"Seymour, you old man," Bryan said, once he made his way over to the other man. "Enjoying yourself? Where's your Champagne?" Mildly mortified that the engineer didn't have something to drink in his hand, Bryan clicked his tongue against his teeth in distaste and, upon spotting a the same woman with her Champagne platter, reached out snagged another one for Seymour. He held it out for the other man and said, simply, "Cheers."
Member No.: 12
Joined: 31-October 12
Seymour would be mildly surprised that the young Weyland had taken the time already to peek at him, let alone speak with him. The engineer wasn't exactly the partying type, which was clearly obvious by the lack of drinking, and lack of socialization that he would have done already. Fancy shindigs, whatever they may be, were not exactly his thing. Social experiments were best left to those who were social, which Seymour, like many engineers, was not. Regardless, he was relieved that his attempt at pulling the younger man had worked, whether it was his appearance (and frustration at it, considering how long it took his secretary to pick out the suit), or slight attitude. Be social, now, let's not muss this one up.
But old man would surprise him. It wasn't the first time he was called that, sure, and he certainly could be considered old by the youth, but in an age where people could live beyond a century comfortably, Seymour sat at an age of middle ground. It was done in jest, yes, but the engineer couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at that.
"Oh, salutations, young Weyland." It at least gave him something to play with. "You do know what they say about the computer types and social situations, don't you? Oh so very awkward for us. Now if this were done through the network..." He smiled, his lips curled in a manageable emotion that seemed rather odd for the man.
Seymour had always been taught to take what was given to you, especially if it was given by a man who wanted to impress - so that he did. He took the champagne flute, holding it loosely in his hand and bowing his head rather gracefully, murmuring a response, "Cheers."
This was certainly his chance to try to grab his attention. He knew the younger man would naturally know about the mission that he had signed up for, but it was always surprising to hear the engineer had decided to jump aboard. Perhaps it would be easier to slide into that conversation through another. Seymour would try to do this objectively.
"And how is business for you, Bryan? Did you round out this year well?"
Member No.: 33
Joined: 4-January 13
Ah, Nightingale. Lorena couldn't quite put to words her feelings on the place. On the one hand, it was a beautiful colony, filled to overflowing with architectural and scientific wonders, and all the very latest in high fashion and society. It was a paragon of human achievement; a world to be proud of. On the other hand, it represented all the most exorbitant forms of wildly lavish excess, and, on a more personal level, it was the place where the people of her home fled to when they became wealthy enough to escape from the sorry and impoverished colony of Angkor.
Angkor, that desolate rock. Dirty and diseased. A lost cause. She loved it all the same. Someone had to, and if not her, who? But loving Angkor meant different things to different people. For Lorena, it meant working for a company that would, if taken to a vote, probably just let the colony rot, unaided. It meant lobbying for the voiceless and disenfranchised people. It meant dressing up and playing her part. Weyland had thrown the gauntlet, after all, and she felt obliged to pick it up. She was the youngest of the CEOs, the only female of the bunch, the only one who didn't come from old money. No one would have blamed her if she felt like she had something to prove.
That was why she did not wrinkle her nose at the staggering display of excess when she was conducted into the room. It was beautiful, after all, and she wasn't enough of a plebeian to turn her nose up at all the splendor around her. She also wasn't stupid enough to believe that Bryan Weyland wouldn't have loved to see her squirm with disdain at the frivolity of it all, and denying him that pleasure was an immensely gratifying prospect to her.
Besides, it was already paid for, so she might as well enjoy it.
As a little girl, Lorena had loved to play dress-up in her mothers things. They hadn't been able to afford much, but the rhinestones had been as good as diamonds to her. Now, real diamonds adorned her neck and ears, complementing the glistening, champagne-colored gown that she'd selected for the evening. It was a form-fitting thing, encrusted from nape to ankle with tiny, crystalline beads that shimmered in the light. She felt mildly self-conscious about her bare shoulder, but had been assured that the asymmetrical look was incredibly flattering. Her hair, her makeup, her accessories; everything was perfect and polished. Now, it was showtime.
Leaving her coat with the doorman, she lifted the hem of her skirt as she descended the stairs, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. The room was teeming with people, since the party had been opened to the public, but she expected she'd find at least a few of her colleagues floating around.
Young Weyland. It was a title Bryan was going to have to get used to, no doubt. Fast. In truth, it was everything he wanted. Part of the family. So why did it taste so bitter, with bubbly champagne clinging to his tongue?
He pulled a light face as the other man's suggestion. "Network. Is your head ever not tangled up in wires, Seymour? Besides." He made a sweeping motion with his hand, gesturing around the wide ballroom, the lavish guests, the gaudy Christmas tree. "We'd miss the view."
But Seymour changed the topic. Good call. A simple, perfunctory question about the business. One that required a simple, perfunctory answer. "Mm. Fantastic," Bryan said, distractedly. Which was when his eyes fell on none other than Reed, taking her place in the crowd. At least she had the decency to look...decent. But he could still smell Angkor on her. It made his skin crawl. And she certainly didn't crinkle her nose enough for this evening to be labeled a "success." Disappointing. Bryan shifted beside Seymour, ducking out of Lorena Reed's line of sight.
"How's the wife? Keeping you on a tight leash?" If Bryan remembered correctly, Seymour had a possessive, clingy little thing back home. Or maybe he was thinking of Peter Jarvis. No...he remembered Peter's wife, she was the buxom cougar who had very nearly made the last holiday party worth stomaching. Or was that Gary Timple's wife? Dammit...all the suits looked the same. This was the part of politics Bryan was simply not cut out for--the personable aspect. From a distance, yes, he could charm the pants of a crowd. But up close and personal? Bryan's cracks started showing, especially since he'd been bumped up to the limelight. He took a good swallow from his champagne glass, trying not to feel deflated about a night that had hardly even begun yet.
Member No.: 12
Joined: 31-October 12
The view. He was more interested in the sky above than the appearances about him. Ladies and gentlemen in rather fancy clothes did not impress him. It was just another wrapper, another mask, another lie. And Seymour was just as good as any of them - dressed in his sharp suit that his secretary insisted on, his hair slicked back. It may have even seemed like he was trying to pull someone tonight with the way he had dressed, but Seymour did not plan on anything like that.
"I have wires in my eyes, not my head. But they are connected to the network none-the-less, so you could say that." His smile seemed to disappear as soon as the younger man mentioned the w word - wife.
Seymour did not have a very good history with love. His wife had come and gone rather quickly - a tryst that turned into something much more deadly, and then the surprise of Seymour being unable to provide a family to her...it hit him. Of course, Bryan did not know about that situation. Barely any of his coworkers did, for all they know at one point he simply took off his wedding ring and never put it on. He never was very personal with any of his coworkers - even the nosy secretary. But it did not stop her from figuring it out on her own and doing her best to get Seymour back into the game that he clearly did not want to participate in.
"Ah, no. I'm afraid that I am no longer married." How else would a man put it? It was an attempt to say as little as he could with still conveying the fact that he had a divorce. He found it obnoxiously hard to figure it out. He did his best to recover from this, knowing that such a question may have embarrassed either of them. May as well try, "No more leash for me." No more leash, restrictions...his wife would have had a field day over this space business. It was no longer her business.
Something about networks. Something about computers. Something about...ah. Seymour's ex-wife. The admission, whether Seymour knew it or not, did at very least grab Bryan's coveted attention. After all, Bryan had the attention span of a fourteen year old girl. If it was shiny or overindulgent, or larger-than-life, he was intrigued. Otherwise, it was like pulling teeth to keep his focus on one thing and one thing only. Which was something that he knew drove men like his fellow representative, Grayson, up the wall. Those old-school gents who could barely talk and walk at the same time. While Bryan couldn't zero in on one thing for very long, he was, conversely, great at multitasking--he found himself more than adequate at simultaneously holding a conference call, nursing a hangover, and beating his computer at a game of solitaire.
"Good for you," Bryan said. "She was a bitch anyway." He had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe she was a bitch, maybe she wasn't--either way, she was gone, and that gave her a 50/50 chance of being a bitch. Either she was the bitch, or Seymour was the bastard. It was the nicest thing Bryan could think to say anyway; something to cheer up the other man.
"Who needs a ball and chain like that, right? Now when there are so many pretty little barely legal things with daddy issues." He paused, eyes straying through the crowd, then turned back to Seymour and added, "How is everything on the Washington base? I know my uncle had a soft spot for you, I'm sure he'd like to know you were taken care of." Here was the part of politics Bryan could master. Passing favors under the table, tipping the scales in favors of friends. He'd done it to make sure all the rich had abandoned Angkor while they still could. It'd been the one move that had put him where he was now, the one move that had granted him this seat of power. And he wasn't about to let down his friends in high places now. Bryan was nothing if not a man who knew how to cover his ass and swim when everyone else was sinking.
Member No.: 13
Joined: 1-November 12
Edmund had arrived late. He always arrived late. It was a habit he picked up from high school parties. It was a lot less likely that he would be made fun of, tackled, or in any other way be embarrassed if he arrived late enough for the rest of the party goers to be enraptured in their conversations...Of course there were still exceptions. (One notable example of which is when he showed up late and got an empty beer keg thrown at him).
While some would call this fashionably late, Edmund was far from fashionable except to the most hardcore Buddy Holly fans. Sporting a brown tweed jacket and a black Too-tight-bow tie Edmund was the picture of a nerd. As soon as he stepped into the door he got the feeling that his attire may be out of place in the establishment he was in, so he hoped that he could stay off to the side and not be noticed. Not that this was a big change to his usual plans at parties. One of his favourite books talked about the benefits to being the one who hangs off to the side at parties, but up until now he had not found it to be very accurate within real life.
Though logically he knew he had no business being at this party, a voice inside of him always made him go anyway, in the hopes that one day he would finally find fun and acceptance in a crowd, any at all. (Then again the chess club did give him a wedgie in front of the entire lunchroom that one time).
Walking down the stairs Edmund found the snack table immediately, as he wanted to stock up on food now so he would not have to venture from his spot once he found the sweet spot on the wall to lean against and slowly bob his head to the music. if the music, decoration, location and guests weren't a sign he was out of place, his poor manners would surely make him stick out even more. Though he hoped he'd blend into the wall once he got there.
After many mumbles of "excuse me" and multiple tries at flirting, or joining in a casual conversation, Edmund would arrive at what would become his section of wall for the remainder of the night, his face much redder than it was when he arrived. From there Edmund would examine the party-goers, looking for anyone, anything, that he could talk to or join in on. His eyes flicked to a redhead who caught his eye earlier often, he was eye stalking her like the extreme nerd he was, imagining how suave he would be if he walked up to her, but of course he didn't. He was perfectly content staying at his wall, and picturing the conversations he would have with all these people.
He was much more comfortable socializing with people in his head.
Member No.: 12
Joined: 31-October 12
Seymour's wife had been rather...antagonistic at times, but he had never gone as far as calling her a bitch. It rang rather easily through his ears, and he couldn't help but agree with it. The woman had been rather tense regarding the necessity for children, and children from -her- husband and no other replacement. No adopting. Nothing like that was allowed in her family, it seemed. Seymour suddenly felt like he understood the situation so much more with just that simple word.
"I wouldn't say that. I'm not entirely one for romance, whether it be long or short." He actually smiled, a rare occurrence for Seymour. "If only there were ways to avoid human contact entirely. You do know what they say about the men behind the computer screens, don't you?" No matter how bad some of this discussion was, Seymour would at least try to tune it up a bit. He -was- talking one on one with Bryan Weyland, after all. If he managed to make friends here, he could be set for life. Weyland Industries at time could be a boy's club, or at least, in certain areas.
His heart nearly jumped through his throat in surprise when Bryan mentioned Mister Weyland, and how the man actually appreciated him. He had been friends with him, of course, business associates. A close worker who wanted to ensure that business went smoothly. Seymour was impeccable at making sure things went as planned...and Peter certainly liked that.
"Ah...it is going well. I even signed up for the Atlas mission. Perhaps I have finally hit my middle age crisis, but I am actually excited to be outside of the laboratory for a change. Hopefully, it will all go well. And its at least helping me get in shape" That much was true. His muscles hated him for all the tests he had to do.
Member No.: 19
Joined: 13-November 12
Karin had arrived quite some time ago, and was already within her own clique of girls from the numerous departments of Weyland. Her hair had been tied up in a braid, curls left out here and there. She had never been good at doing any sort of appearance altering things, and left it rather natural - barely any makeup. The only thing she managed to talk herself into wearing that was remotely appearance enhancing was a push up bra - considering that was a department she rather lacked in.
Her dress was a shimmering black little thing, showing off her legs. She might as well, considering that was all she had. It was difficult to imagine her wearing a dress, since most of the time she wore her boots from the airforce uniform, and jeans. Jeans were her butt's best friend. Plus it meant she didn't have to shave her legs...and well, they were just a hell of a lot more comfortable than anything else.
Small talk. The girls talking about their husbands, or their boyfriends. Karin couldn't do much to add to the conversation. The most she could mention are the men who had been eying her in the Weyland building during training, but it may have been because they were the doctor's testing her. Or something like that.
But she couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes on her. It was an odd feeling to know she was watched, but unsure where from. It was only for a moment she swore she saw a familiar face in the crowd but...
It couldn't be. She shrugged off the feeling and turned back to the girl talk.
Member No.: 13
Joined: 1-November 12
Edmund was enraptured by the woman the longer he stared, but he found the wall he was leaning against was equally as magnetic and the wall wouldn't laugh in his face when he tried talking to it.
Yet, Edmund found himself in rare form, perhaps this was it, the moment he had dreamed of where he finally found his self confidence. The moment where he'd turn his life around and find everything he ever wanted. The moment where he would walk up to someone, and dazzle them with his conversation, the moment he would finally be happy. Or maybe it was the 6 Gin&Tonics he had just ingested. No, no, it was definitely the 6 drinks and the low alcohol tolerance. But at least he couldn't tell that was the reason just yet.
He took a step away from his wall and he got to thinking, looking down at his feet as he walked. What am I doing? Am I walking towards her? Why did I think this was a good idea? She's not going to talk to me, she has all of her friends to talk to, and I'm a nerd. No, no, no, something is wrong with me, I shouldn't walk towards her, I shouldn't talk to her this is a mistake. I'm going back to my wall.
He lifted his head up from looking at his feet as he was about to turn right back around and head back to his wall, maybe grabbing another drink to deal with the anxiety he had just created for himself.
Member No.: 19
Joined: 13-November 12
The bubbly had made her increasingly bubbly. Champagne was a bit of a vice, it seemed, and as the night wore on, it was beginning to show that she had quite an amount of it.
And she suddenly had quite an amount of it all over that little black dress as her as some semi truck of a man seemed to bowl right into her, leaving her speechless as the cold liquid drenched the front of her dress. The girls around her let out gasps, as well did Karin, of course.
A fit of slurs and swears fell past her lips, a bad habit of hers that she certainly should try to get fixed, but for now, it was that dirty little thing of her's. A waiter came over to help her, at least taking the champagne flute from her and giving her a rather large cloth napkin to wipe up the dampness from her dress. She had already turned to Edmund already, face a'scowlin', ready to certainly say whatever had been on her mind at the time.
"Watch where you are going y-" She was cut off by the sudden realization she knew this man. Part of the Atlas crew, or at least she assumed, since she had seen him at a few of the meetings and tests. But she could have sworn she had met him before. He had a forgettable face and was dressed like some kind of nerd out of the 50's, but she still could have damn sworn...
Well, might as well use her charm for whatever moment she could finangle it in.