idolpro | ViewScream: ☆ZRAEL

The bulkhead seals behind you; there is a brief warning buzzer before THEMiS’s A.I. pleasantly informs you that you have been “quarantined for your protection.”

A specialized room is arrayed before you, and you suddenly find you are aware of not only of the game’s rules, but also of a limited collection of specialized knowledge suitable to your team’s Role.

ROLE: XENOBIOLOGY

Available solutions:

Elemental Spore Supply
Accelerated Gene Therapy Nanites
Bioengineered Xenomorph

To your right are a series of lockers containing changes of clothes to more Role-appropriate ones—though they still contain just enough elements to match your unit aesthetic. You may use these if you wish (if so, they will not disappear after the game ends). To your left, there is what appears to be a comms station. It seems you’ll be using this to contact the other units.

It quickly becomes apparent, in fact, that you will very much need their help—

Quick Links: How to Play | Rules | Bridge | List of Roles

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Psionics
There’s something at the corner of your eye—no, the other corner—no, it’s writhing beneath your skin—

Wait. It’s none of those things. All of this is just in your mind; there’s a creeping paranoia that borders on madness. Then you notice it: the broken canister in the corner of the room, its contents already dispersed. Whatever was in there is clearly beginning to work its way through your brain. The effects are easy enough to ignore, now that you realize what’s going on… but they’re only going to get worse.

Weapons
Red alerts on your monitor are always a good sign, right? What about alarm bells? Warning signs with hazard symbols that say "ENEMY DETECTED"? Hmmm, no? Not into it?

Well, you can do something about that! ... If you had operational weapons.

You can see several dots on the radar rapidly approaching—in fact, they’re surrounding every path past the sealed bulkgate. You peer through the window, and see the first of the swarm: many-legged, chitinous, its carapace shimmering green and purple as it chitters its enormous, saw-like mandibles. At least it’s only about the size of a large cat…. but it seems to be bringing hundreds and hundreds of its closest friends.

Hey, maybe you should get those weapons checked out?

Medical
There’s a prickling feeling over your skin, like an itch you can’t quite place, and

It starts with an itch, or a sneeze, or a cough. Whatever it is, it starts small—but it rapidly grows, in size and in seriousness. Itches spread, sneezes become more violent, and coughs become more frequent. Roughly around the time that your ailments pass the threshold into "moderately annoying and somewhat concerning", THEMiS's A.I. speaks in a pleasantly neutral tone:
"Space plague detected in air ventilation. Air quality has been compromised."

Then, completely unbidden, the A.I. continues to describe what this "space plague" is: "Space plague: a common form of airborne infection. The body's immune system is attacked and begins to break down with the introduction of this bacteria. Microorganisms grow at a rapid pace and consume the host, processing flesh into liquid nutrient until the bodypart is completely consumed. Fatality rate: 85%. Antibiotic recommended for continued survival."

The feeling's just getting worse. Hm!

[This is actually now the third time Maki has had to deal with ignoring intrusive hallucinations, so after going stiff for a brief moment, she seems to have that things under control.

Then she coughs a few times. And winces at the screen.

After a few seconds of evaluation—]

I can talk to AlcheME.

[ oh my grod this is the worst combination of things,

Just. Frozen. ]

[oh we need medical help

rip us

just going to flop to the floor and hate everything]

[quietly but frantically]

No no no no no no no no no no no.

...

[a hand lightly on her shoulder]

[ scratching roughly at his own skin, enough to leave red marks, a spark of something unhinged in his eyes. CLEARLY not having a good time with these problems, yikes.

and when he looks at the list of units they're supposed to negotiate with, he kicks a panel in frustration. ]

Are you fucking kidding me...?

[ jumps, bristling ]

Wh-- what!

What.

...We're going to be okay.

Do you want to call avante about our weapons?

[ sullenly ]

They won't do shit for us.

[ ... gggooood she's got it bad too.

Coughing, roughly; ]

A-- ashes.

[ stiff and confused for a long moment ]

I-- y... yeah. Um. Yeah.

[ scratching at her throat - a little too aggressively to be idle, but stiffly, hand only shifting from its position as she's shaken by her coughing, keeping her eyes firmly shut ]

We should . . .

The units we can help, too...