*pokes "Temporalnauts" with a stick*
Mar. 11th, 2008 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
crossover_chick*wonders if she's poking a dead horse*
-VD2: ??? What's that supposed to mean?-
I'm wondering if I actually have a decent ending here. I really can't think of any other place to go with the story.
-HD: So you've come to the end? Then stop. No sense in trying to continue on -- you'll just loop around to the beginning again, and that helps no one.-
Well, I'm not quite sure. I need a second opinion.
*looks out at audience* Want to give me a hand? I know probably most of you know nothing ABOUT Psychonauts, but I could really use the fresh perspective.
-VD2: We need her to get things off her plate, everyone. Please help.-
-RPD: Here's the Psychonaut Playlist she uses for background purposes.-
You'll want Sasha's Shooting Gallery mainly. I'll explain the joke a bit with the story too, though:
Okay, why can’t one – just one – of these stupid trips go according to plan?
Marty looked over at Doc, who looked just as pissed as he felt. This was supposed to have been a routine trip, testing out the new GPS Doc had added to the DeLorean to aid in time travel to different places. Unfortunately, it appeared this latest bit of equipment was off – instead of sending them to the remote woodland spot Doc had plotted earlier, it had sent them 20 meters south of it. This might not have been too severe a problem –
Had there not been a summer camp smack dab beneath them.
Even then, the trip might have been salvageable had they managed to fly away in time. But something had grabbed the DeLorean out of midair – Marty still wasn’t sure what – and forced it to the ground. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the camp infirmary, guarded by the doctor, a tall man with the biggest nose Marty had ever seen. The teen sighed and leaned on his hand. One of these days, I’m going to learn to say “no” when Doc asks me to help him test something.
The door to the cabin opened, and inside stepped a lanky, pale man with dark hair and sunglasses. “Hello, Frederick. These are our intruders, I take it?”
“Yup,” the doctor nodded. “Coach Oleander caught them flying above the camp in some sort of modified car. He would have done the examination himself, but – well, you know how he is these days. Been a year, and he’s still worried about a relapse.”
The sunglasses man nodded. “I know, but it might be for the best that he keeps himself to minimum duties for a while. We don’t want to accidentally unlock anything else. Headquarters is still breathing down our necks for what happened. And I’m sure some people are still wondering what we were thinking, employing you and your friends.”
“Hey, we appreciate it. Though I’d appreciate it more if you’d just call me Fred.”
Marty and Doc exchanged a confused look. What were these guys talking about? “Excuse me, Mister--” Doc began.
“Nein. Agent Sasha Nein,” the man said. “The man to my left is Frederick Bonaparte, camp doctor and counselor.”
Marty blinked, surprised. “Bonaparte?”
“Yes, like Napoleon,” Fred said, in a tone of voice that suggested he’d been through this a lot. “I’m a great-great-great-great-grandson.”
“You can’t be related to Napoleon,” Marty argued. “You’re way too tall.”
“Actually, Marty, Napoleon was of normal height for a Frenchman at the time,” Doc said. “He just had a habit of surrounding himself with overly-large bodyguards.”
“Oh. Didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. Anyway – Agent Nein. We don’t mean you or your campers any harm. I didn’t even realize this summer camp was here. I’m an inventor, you see, and the car is one of my latest projects. If you’ll just release us, we’ll be out of your hair in no time. We won’t tell anyone we were here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, we’re used to keeping secrets,” Marty nodded. “We’re not evil aliens out to steal your campers’ brains or anything.”
Sasha and Fred looked oddly uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t joke about that around here if I were you,” Fred said. “Especially not around Coach Oleander.”
“What, no sense of humor?”
“You could say that. . . .”
Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a little girl in a large space helmet barging past him. “I knew it! I knew it!” she cried delightedly. “I knew you were coming to get me!”
Fred chuckled as Sasha rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. “Chloe, we have been over this. You are not from outer space.”
“But they came to get me!” Chloe protested, pointing at Doc and Marty. “We all saw their spaceship! They must have heard my latest message!” She turned to the completely confused duo, grinning. “What planet are we from, then? I know it can’t be in this galaxy, I’ve done all the research. Are you breathing the Earth air all right? Would you like me to get you one of my spare helmets?”
Doc tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. “She kind of reminds me of your father,” he told Marty.
“Really? Maybe we’re related!” Chloe said, looking eagerly at Marty. “What’s your dad like?”
“He means obsessed with aliens,” Marty said, shaking his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re Earthlings.”
Chloe looked confused. “But you came here in a spaceship!”
“I’m an inventor – I modified a car for flight,” Doc explained. “Why do you think you’re from space anyway? Scientists have yet to find fellow intelligent life among the stars. My wife’s an astronomy buff – she’d be the first to let me know if they did.”
“Because I keep hearing transmissions,” Chloe said. “Messages from my fellow aliens.”
Doc frowned curiously. “You wouldn’t happen to have any fillings, would you? I’ve heard that, under the right circumstances, they can pick up radio signals.”
Chloe shook her head. “Nope. The dentist says I have the best teeth he’s ever seen.”
A Brazilian woman entered at that point, looking a bit out of breath. “Sorry, darling,” she said, looking at Sasha. “She took off while I was gathering the other children.”
“It’s all right, Milla,” Sasha said. “I half-expected this to happen anyway.” He glanced over at Doc and Marty. “Agent Milla Vodello, my partner,” he introduced the woman.
“How are you?” Milla said warmly, a big smile on her face.
“Very, very confused,” Marty admitted. “And eager to get home.”
“My family’s going to be worried about us if we don’t return soon,” Doc confirmed. “You have my solemn word that the authorities won’t hear about this. You don’t have to worry about your superiors breathing down your necks again.”
Sasha and Milla looked at each other. “They do seem harmless enough, darling,” Milla said, giving Doc and Marty a once-over.
“Yes, but you can’t be too careful in our business, Milla,” Sasha said. He frowned at Doc and Marty sternly. “We’re going to have to verify those statements of yours.”
“Go right ahead,” Doc said. “I have some identification here. . . .”
“That won’t be necessary. Just hold still.” Sasha put two fingers against his temple.
Marty was about to ask what he was doing when he felt a funny tickling feeling at the back of his skull. Huh? What the hell is that? he thought, scratching at it. He noticed Doc rubbing his own head in the same spot. Is this guy doing something to us? Quit it!
Luckily, the sensation only lasted a few moments. Sasha had a very strange expression on his face as he lowered his fingers. “Well – er – they’re telling the truth,” he told Fred and Milla. “Though I’m afraid I may have dug a little too deep. I apologize for that.”
“What the hell did you do?” Marty asked, confused.
“I – would you explain, Milla? You’re better at this sort of thing than I am.”
Milla nodded, frowning at him. “Darling, are you all right? You seem a bit out of sorts. Are you getting another cold?”
“No, the younger man just triggered a few old memories – it’ll take me a second to get them back in order. I’ll return momentarily.” Sasha headed for the door – then paused and looked back. “And, er, Marty? I sympathize about the whole situation with your mother.”
Marty and Doc’s jaws dropped. “Wait a minute! How the hell do you know about that?!” Marty demanded, getting up. “And – what do you mean, you sympathize?”
“Oh, for – does everyone in this camp have issues with their parents?” Fred complained.
“What – darling, you told me – how could he have a similar experience?” Milla said, looking baffled.
“His actually trumps mine,” Sasha said, looking sick. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Oh, cool, they have time travel on our home planet?” Chloe spoke up, eyes shining with excitement.
Doc went dead white. “What – how--”
“What the hell?! Are you all mind-readers or something?” Marty snapped.
“Yes,” Sasha said.
Marty blinked a few times. “. . . Oh,” he finally said, for the lack of anything better.
“I suppose that explains her ‘transmissions,’” Doc muttered, rubbing the back of his head again. “Great Scott.”
“Here, let me explain,” Milla said, sitting down across from them. “Have you ever heard of the Psychonauts?”
The thing with Sasha is, if you look in his memory vaults, you'll see him as a teenager probing his father's mind for memories of his mother, who died when Sasha was very little. Unfortunately for poor Sasha, he happened to stumble into some memories of Happy Sexy Fun Time. He left home shortly afterwards. Fred's comment references this, his fellow inmate Gloria's strained relationship with her mother (who's suicide drove Gloria into the nuthouse), Coach Oleander's atagonistic relationship with his butcher father, and Raz's own relationship with his acrobat dad. (Not to mention that in my own backstory for him, he doesn't have the best relationship with his father either.)
So, yeah, comments appreciated.
-VD: How's the other stuff coming?-
Pretty well -- I worked on the drabbles88 fic and "Comfortably Numb" this morning. Pretty sure the next prompt will be ready to be posted soon. Also got two and half pages on "There's Always Tomorrow" and two more pages on "Cinder-Marty."
-DW: That's good. Always nice to see you productive.-
I do my best.
-RPD: How about Sims?-
Knocked the Robinsons off the Twin Oaks Park catch-up list, and visited Emma in Eureka. Neither of them had particularly exiciting days -- Emma spent most of hers at work. She did hit a water main digging for treasure, though. :p Next time I play, I'm gonna try and move in Holden.
-OD: *curious* Before the wedding?-
Well, I was reading Etiquette Hell for a while, and I thought about how unfair it was that the bride only got to invite HER friends. . . .
-D: *raises eyebrow* They're not real people, Victoria.-
Still, it seemed only fair.
-RPD: You've never done it before, though.-
Well, most of my playables marry other playables -- they all have friends in common. Plus, moving in Holden may help her with her career and get her days off at a more convienent time. I don't want to have to wait around for a vacation day to get her married, or have to deal with an angry phone message.
-TD: You really do have a lot of affection for those things, don't you?-
You get that way.
-TTV: So why on earth do you want to do an asylum challenge?-
Variety! The story would be that you're not crazy at all (well, Fred is, but we'll figure something out) and that Doc is working to save all of you. Once he wins the challenge, you all move out into your satellite familes and have happy fun times.
-HD: Marriage and babies and all that?-
Yup.
-TTV: Hang on, I thought you were making Emily and Victoria for me.-
Yeah. So?
-TTV: . . . .-
-RPD: She wouldn't be able to do it, Victor. Sims get jealous very easily.-
Someone forget I'm a custom content whore?
-VD2: ??? What's that supposed to mean?-
I'm wondering if I actually have a decent ending here. I really can't think of any other place to go with the story.
-HD: So you've come to the end? Then stop. No sense in trying to continue on -- you'll just loop around to the beginning again, and that helps no one.-
Well, I'm not quite sure. I need a second opinion.
*looks out at audience* Want to give me a hand? I know probably most of you know nothing ABOUT Psychonauts, but I could really use the fresh perspective.
-VD2: We need her to get things off her plate, everyone. Please help.-
-RPD: Here's the Psychonaut Playlist she uses for background purposes.-
You'll want Sasha's Shooting Gallery mainly. I'll explain the joke a bit with the story too, though:
Okay, why can’t one – just one – of these stupid trips go according to plan?
Marty looked over at Doc, who looked just as pissed as he felt. This was supposed to have been a routine trip, testing out the new GPS Doc had added to the DeLorean to aid in time travel to different places. Unfortunately, it appeared this latest bit of equipment was off – instead of sending them to the remote woodland spot Doc had plotted earlier, it had sent them 20 meters south of it. This might not have been too severe a problem –
Had there not been a summer camp smack dab beneath them.
Even then, the trip might have been salvageable had they managed to fly away in time. But something had grabbed the DeLorean out of midair – Marty still wasn’t sure what – and forced it to the ground. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the camp infirmary, guarded by the doctor, a tall man with the biggest nose Marty had ever seen. The teen sighed and leaned on his hand. One of these days, I’m going to learn to say “no” when Doc asks me to help him test something.
The door to the cabin opened, and inside stepped a lanky, pale man with dark hair and sunglasses. “Hello, Frederick. These are our intruders, I take it?”
“Yup,” the doctor nodded. “Coach Oleander caught them flying above the camp in some sort of modified car. He would have done the examination himself, but – well, you know how he is these days. Been a year, and he’s still worried about a relapse.”
The sunglasses man nodded. “I know, but it might be for the best that he keeps himself to minimum duties for a while. We don’t want to accidentally unlock anything else. Headquarters is still breathing down our necks for what happened. And I’m sure some people are still wondering what we were thinking, employing you and your friends.”
“Hey, we appreciate it. Though I’d appreciate it more if you’d just call me Fred.”
Marty and Doc exchanged a confused look. What were these guys talking about? “Excuse me, Mister--” Doc began.
“Nein. Agent Sasha Nein,” the man said. “The man to my left is Frederick Bonaparte, camp doctor and counselor.”
Marty blinked, surprised. “Bonaparte?”
“Yes, like Napoleon,” Fred said, in a tone of voice that suggested he’d been through this a lot. “I’m a great-great-great-great-grandson.”
“You can’t be related to Napoleon,” Marty argued. “You’re way too tall.”
“Actually, Marty, Napoleon was of normal height for a Frenchman at the time,” Doc said. “He just had a habit of surrounding himself with overly-large bodyguards.”
“Oh. Didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. Anyway – Agent Nein. We don’t mean you or your campers any harm. I didn’t even realize this summer camp was here. I’m an inventor, you see, and the car is one of my latest projects. If you’ll just release us, we’ll be out of your hair in no time. We won’t tell anyone we were here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yeah, we’re used to keeping secrets,” Marty nodded. “We’re not evil aliens out to steal your campers’ brains or anything.”
Sasha and Fred looked oddly uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t joke about that around here if I were you,” Fred said. “Especially not around Coach Oleander.”
“What, no sense of humor?”
“You could say that. . . .”
Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by a little girl in a large space helmet barging past him. “I knew it! I knew it!” she cried delightedly. “I knew you were coming to get me!”
Fred chuckled as Sasha rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. “Chloe, we have been over this. You are not from outer space.”
“But they came to get me!” Chloe protested, pointing at Doc and Marty. “We all saw their spaceship! They must have heard my latest message!” She turned to the completely confused duo, grinning. “What planet are we from, then? I know it can’t be in this galaxy, I’ve done all the research. Are you breathing the Earth air all right? Would you like me to get you one of my spare helmets?”
Doc tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin. “She kind of reminds me of your father,” he told Marty.
“Really? Maybe we’re related!” Chloe said, looking eagerly at Marty. “What’s your dad like?”
“He means obsessed with aliens,” Marty said, shaking his head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but we’re Earthlings.”
Chloe looked confused. “But you came here in a spaceship!”
“I’m an inventor – I modified a car for flight,” Doc explained. “Why do you think you’re from space anyway? Scientists have yet to find fellow intelligent life among the stars. My wife’s an astronomy buff – she’d be the first to let me know if they did.”
“Because I keep hearing transmissions,” Chloe said. “Messages from my fellow aliens.”
Doc frowned curiously. “You wouldn’t happen to have any fillings, would you? I’ve heard that, under the right circumstances, they can pick up radio signals.”
Chloe shook her head. “Nope. The dentist says I have the best teeth he’s ever seen.”
A Brazilian woman entered at that point, looking a bit out of breath. “Sorry, darling,” she said, looking at Sasha. “She took off while I was gathering the other children.”
“It’s all right, Milla,” Sasha said. “I half-expected this to happen anyway.” He glanced over at Doc and Marty. “Agent Milla Vodello, my partner,” he introduced the woman.
“How are you?” Milla said warmly, a big smile on her face.
“Very, very confused,” Marty admitted. “And eager to get home.”
“My family’s going to be worried about us if we don’t return soon,” Doc confirmed. “You have my solemn word that the authorities won’t hear about this. You don’t have to worry about your superiors breathing down your necks again.”
Sasha and Milla looked at each other. “They do seem harmless enough, darling,” Milla said, giving Doc and Marty a once-over.
“Yes, but you can’t be too careful in our business, Milla,” Sasha said. He frowned at Doc and Marty sternly. “We’re going to have to verify those statements of yours.”
“Go right ahead,” Doc said. “I have some identification here. . . .”
“That won’t be necessary. Just hold still.” Sasha put two fingers against his temple.
Marty was about to ask what he was doing when he felt a funny tickling feeling at the back of his skull. Huh? What the hell is that? he thought, scratching at it. He noticed Doc rubbing his own head in the same spot. Is this guy doing something to us? Quit it!
Luckily, the sensation only lasted a few moments. Sasha had a very strange expression on his face as he lowered his fingers. “Well – er – they’re telling the truth,” he told Fred and Milla. “Though I’m afraid I may have dug a little too deep. I apologize for that.”
“What the hell did you do?” Marty asked, confused.
“I – would you explain, Milla? You’re better at this sort of thing than I am.”
Milla nodded, frowning at him. “Darling, are you all right? You seem a bit out of sorts. Are you getting another cold?”
“No, the younger man just triggered a few old memories – it’ll take me a second to get them back in order. I’ll return momentarily.” Sasha headed for the door – then paused and looked back. “And, er, Marty? I sympathize about the whole situation with your mother.”
Marty and Doc’s jaws dropped. “Wait a minute! How the hell do you know about that?!” Marty demanded, getting up. “And – what do you mean, you sympathize?”
“Oh, for – does everyone in this camp have issues with their parents?” Fred complained.
“What – darling, you told me – how could he have a similar experience?” Milla said, looking baffled.
“His actually trumps mine,” Sasha said, looking sick. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Oh, cool, they have time travel on our home planet?” Chloe spoke up, eyes shining with excitement.
Doc went dead white. “What – how--”
“What the hell?! Are you all mind-readers or something?” Marty snapped.
“Yes,” Sasha said.
Marty blinked a few times. “. . . Oh,” he finally said, for the lack of anything better.
“I suppose that explains her ‘transmissions,’” Doc muttered, rubbing the back of his head again. “Great Scott.”
“Here, let me explain,” Milla said, sitting down across from them. “Have you ever heard of the Psychonauts?”
The thing with Sasha is, if you look in his memory vaults, you'll see him as a teenager probing his father's mind for memories of his mother, who died when Sasha was very little. Unfortunately for poor Sasha, he happened to stumble into some memories of Happy Sexy Fun Time. He left home shortly afterwards. Fred's comment references this, his fellow inmate Gloria's strained relationship with her mother (who's suicide drove Gloria into the nuthouse), Coach Oleander's atagonistic relationship with his butcher father, and Raz's own relationship with his acrobat dad. (Not to mention that in my own backstory for him, he doesn't have the best relationship with his father either.)
So, yeah, comments appreciated.
-VD: How's the other stuff coming?-
Pretty well -- I worked on the drabbles88 fic and "Comfortably Numb" this morning. Pretty sure the next prompt will be ready to be posted soon. Also got two and half pages on "There's Always Tomorrow" and two more pages on "Cinder-Marty."
-DW: That's good. Always nice to see you productive.-
I do my best.
-RPD: How about Sims?-
Knocked the Robinsons off the Twin Oaks Park catch-up list, and visited Emma in Eureka. Neither of them had particularly exiciting days -- Emma spent most of hers at work. She did hit a water main digging for treasure, though. :p Next time I play, I'm gonna try and move in Holden.
-OD: *curious* Before the wedding?-
Well, I was reading Etiquette Hell for a while, and I thought about how unfair it was that the bride only got to invite HER friends. . . .
-D: *raises eyebrow* They're not real people, Victoria.-
Still, it seemed only fair.
-RPD: You've never done it before, though.-
Well, most of my playables marry other playables -- they all have friends in common. Plus, moving in Holden may help her with her career and get her days off at a more convienent time. I don't want to have to wait around for a vacation day to get her married, or have to deal with an angry phone message.
-TD: You really do have a lot of affection for those things, don't you?-
You get that way.
-TTV: So why on earth do you want to do an asylum challenge?-
Variety! The story would be that you're not crazy at all (well, Fred is, but we'll figure something out) and that Doc is working to save all of you. Once he wins the challenge, you all move out into your satellite familes and have happy fun times.
-HD: Marriage and babies and all that?-
Yup.
-TTV: Hang on, I thought you were making Emily and Victoria for me.-
Yeah. So?
-TTV: . . . .-
-RPD: She wouldn't be able to do it, Victor. Sims get jealous very easily.-
Someone forget I'm a custom content whore?
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-03-13 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 01:27 am (UTC)I assume you don't think it ended abruptly? *main thing I'm worrying about*
no subject
Date: 2008-03-17 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 02:13 am (UTC)Thumbs up from me...but from me did you expect any less? :p
no subject
Date: 2008-03-14 02:45 am (UTC)Heh, I know. :p Tanku.