roll call

[boldboimler]

[The man that's on screen doesn't look as uncomfortable as he could be. After all, the showers in the Cerritos are communal. But he sure is feeling vulnerable chilling here in only a sheet, in an area where only a short time ago there were monsters.]

[Every so often he arches his back slightly in discomfort at the itching, crawling sensation there. (This is worse than the Borg parts. Worse than even the implants on his face.)]

Okay, we should probably do a role call? Who's still here? What's your name?

Also, what skills do you have that could be useful here? We need to figure out what we need to survive. Delegate tasks. The supplies around here definitely seem to be thin on the ground. They're not going to last forever.

We should also probably share intel about anything useful we find as we look around. Or anything the AI shares with us.

Comments

[thatsthat]

[ The video from Therion's end suggests that 1) he's found some nice dark corner to sit and look edgy in, inasmuchas you can look edgy with nothing but a sheet to wear, and 2) he has already taken advantage of those showers to de-goo, as his hair is still pretty damp. The overall impression skirts dangerously close to "drowned grumpy cat." ]

I'd like to congratulate us all on not dying.

[ Deadpan as they come. ]

I'm Therion, I'm a thief by trade, and before anyone starts, no, you don't have to keep one hand on your coin purse if I'm in the room. [ He is a professional, not a kleptomaniac, and if he had any concept of "shitty D&D players," he'd be annoyed at all of the ones giving his lifestyle a bad name. ]

[boldboimler]

Uh, yeah, the not-dying thing is... a step in the right direction.

"Thief" can mean a lot of things. So far it seems like people are from different worlds.

[In his world, a thief would need a lot of skills in technology to overcome security measures.]

Does that mean mostly stealth in yours?

text

[dysappear]

[Dys is reluctant enough about chatting with all these strangers, like hell is he gonna do it with video on. He fiddles with the comms system until he figures out how to pull up a holo keyboard.]

dys
i'm a surveyor
i can handle exploring the nearby areas and looking for resources

[bestbrotherever]

I am Loki. God of Mischief. I am not a dedicated scout or scavenger, but I have experience, and I am quite good at fighting. I would be willing to guard you whenever you choose to venture out in search of supplies.

voice

[holo_momway]

Janeway here. Still. But I haven't seen everyone I met on the mission. I... think we should go back for them, unless Ishtar confirms they're not around anymore.

I should probably introduce myself to everyone who doesn't recognize me on sight? I'm Kathryn Janeway of the Starfleet ship Protostar. I was its Emergency Training Hologram, but I seem to not be a hologram anymore, and I don't have any computer connection to anything. Still, I can offer the advice of an experienced starship captain who was once stranded decades from home.

[thatsthat]

Just because they're not here doesn't mean they're definitely there. [ Considering how suddenly they arrived, it seems very possible that people might be tossed back just as quickly. ]

Let's get confirmation before we go chasing a what-if.

[dysappear]

wait you're a hologram?
like an AI?

voice

[bestbrotherever]

I am Loki. As you apparently know already. I should like to hear more about how you know me, now that we appear to be unlikely to be attacked at any moment.

video

[boldboimler]

I know this sounds a little crazy but it probably sounds less crazy since we got pulled here in the first place: I was stuck in a dimension for a while that pulled in people from across the multiverse.

We were all fighting this apocalyptic threat and pulled from our worlds by magic.

There was a Loki there helping the group. Given dimensional travel was involved, though, I guess it was a different Loki.

[potentialman]

...what do you mean by still?

[ Somebody got to bypass the assessment mission entirely. Lucky him.

He hasn't tried playing around with the settings to go to only voice or text, he's just left it on default, so here's a lanky, messy-haired fifteen-year-old. ]

Fushiguro. I'm...a jujutsu sorcerer, but I don't know if that's going to be much help here. There's something off about the energy here. My shikigami won't answer my summons.

[ Thanks, he hates it!! ]

voice

[bestbrotherever]

You are a sorcerer as well?

I can feel my magic, but I cannot reach it, shape it to my will. Though I have not tried at my leisure. Perhaps with enough time and concentration, we could regain some use of magic.

[furtitude]

Why are you saying made up words?

[The translation magic skitzed out on a few of the words since even some of the concepts they could be translated to are, well, human.]

What's a 'sorcerer'?

[He's from the wrong genre.]

[memcake]

Agent 8 of the New Squidbeak Splatoon, reporting for duty.

[He doesn't salute. It's not really a custom where he's from. The salute is definitely in his voice though.]

Um, I'm good with tech. These weapons are...different from what I'm used to but I know my way around the basics, I can adjust. My real specialty is infiltration. Well, it's what I have the most experience in anyway. The problem is...uh...

[He holds up his hand, the artificial skeleton they put in him clear as day considering he turned his sheet into a toga.]

I think this...thing...is suppressing most of my natural abilities. I don't think I'll be that useful without them, I'm sorry.

voice

[holo_momway]

Nice to meet you, Agent 8. I'm Janeway.

It's good to have someone with tech knowledge. Have you had a chance to look over what's here at the base? I'm trying to save everything that might work.

voice

[whethertheyshould]

Ah, hi, yes, I'm Ian Malcolm. I'm a mathematician to, ah, to put it simply. I can fight hand-to-hand but I'm not exactly an expert at it.

[ He pauses in the transmission and then continues: ]

What have you discovered, so far?

text

[moonspellsmainman]

My name is Nick Andros. I'm a deaf-mute, but if you respond via voice, it turns out the device we've been implanted with will transcribe the conversation for me. I can build things, fix things, and do heavy labor. And I can hold my own in a fight.

I think we should gather and take stock of what assets we have managed to gather so far.

[tears_of_logic]

Brainiac 5. My skills are extensive, but for the purposes of this role call, I'm proficient in 30th century engineering, AI design, astrophysics, chronophysics, and I'm adept at scavenging from primitive electronics.

[ He specifically doesn't mention the implants on his face, or Boimler's, nor any sort of cyborg-related research. He's miffed because the new, involuntary implants didn't come with complementary schematics and won't breach the subject. ]

I suppose I'm qualified to medically treat bipedal sentient beings from my universe, but it's impossible to say if every universe developed on the same evolutionary path. I'm a competent pilot should an opportunity ever present itself.

[potentialman]

With a skillset that expansive, we're likely to wind up putting a lot of pressure on you. [ Given the amount of technology here, and given the amount of knowledge it would take to catch up. The piloting might not wind up being a high-demand skill here, but... ]

Would it be possible for you to give some of us the crash course in treating injuries, at least? [ Not that anyone's going to be doing heart surgery over night, but if they can at least not have to rely on him to have to set every broken bone and suture every wound, it'd be...less they're all leaning on him. ]

[cadiastands]

OOC: If you're not familiar with Warhammer 40,000, pls check Mira's permissions or opt-out.

[Mira's not having a nervous breakdown, and she thinks that's very cool and sexy of her, thank you very much. She (and everyone else, frankly) is lucky she's too horrible with technology to have figured out how to view any of the messages besides Boimler's original post, because then she really might have that breakdown.]

Second Lieutenant ["LEF-tenant"] Mir- [There's an almost imperceptible hitch as she manages not to introduce herself by her nickname this time.] -anda Nero, 203rd Cadian. We're an infantry regiment.

[And that's it, as though it explains everything. As far as she's concerned, it does.]

[memcake]

[As much as Eight has mixed feelings (and spotty memories) about his time in the Octarian army, it's probably good to share experiences.]

I don't know if it will help, Ma'am, but I've also served in an infantry. My memories of aren't completely...intact? But maybe we should pool our experience anyway.

video

[furtitude]

[Little Cato is late to the cooperation discussion. This is because his reaction to being in dangerous surroundings after dangerous gunfights in an area full of exploded corpses - and then getting shot out into a goo hallway - is to basically Naruto run around until he has the essentials.]

[It's the decrepit surroundings that put him into a weird place where he doesn't reach out to others first. These aren't his others. This isn't his crew. And the last time he was in some decrepit rotting husk of a ship (is this a ship?) he had to...]

[...]

[He tries not to think about the time shard. But he does have to do the same thing: survive. So he gets right to work, with the energy of someone that thinks a murderous alien might turn around a corner at any time.]

[This is why, while slightly late to the discussion - fur mussed and sticking in every direction because he let the goo evaporate rather than washing it off - he's clothed, armed, and picking the meat off a slice of "pizza" to eat. The clothes are just a simple poncho made from a piece of colorful cloth with a hole clawed in the top for his head, with a belt of jagged ripped cloth for a belt. The holster is far too big for him, thrown over his shoulder like a bandolier.]

[But one thing is clear: the kid clearly doesn't waste time.]

Still not dead. Name's Little Cato. I'm good at hand to hand, hacking, and piloting. And I'm a crazy good shot. I'm so-so [he makes a 50/50 gesture with the paw that had been picking at his food] at bladed weapons, engineering, and ship maintenance.

I also know how to sew if we can get our hands on a sewing kit. It'd probably be good to have clothes that can't glitch out.

[He doesn't want to sew, since he's mostly used it in captivity or while trapped somewhere, but it's useful.]

And I'm good at making stuff grow in places where it's hard to. Like. For food. Hydroponics.

[He looks cranky at the the thought. Ugh ugh ugh why are some of his survival skills from that time possibly the most useful here?]

Since this food sucks and this place is ass.

[dysappear]

what do you need for hydroponics?
like seeds or whole plants or what

[He's familiar with the concept of hydroponics – that was the go-to back before they landed on Vertumna, after all – but Dys never really helped out in there so his understanding is unfortunately limited.]

[holo_momway]

Good to see you again, Cato.

Hydroponics is something we should start right away. Do you want to take a look around the safe area and scout out a good location and supplies? Any specialized equipment is probably long broken, but there's plenty of salvage to make do with.

How good are you at hacking to repair programs that have already been damaged?

[memcake]

[Oh, a cat. Agent 8 knows cats. Kind of. He didn't know cats could come in humanoid form. Also some of the things he's saying suggest other differences...]

This might be a...strange thing to say, but I take it you aren't immortal like the cats back home?

[As for the rest of it...]

Even with a sewing kid, fabric beyond these sheets may be hard to come by around here. It looks like this place has been allowed to rot for some time and I doubt much cloth survived. Plus, I was never able to pull off the distressed look and color coordination would be a nightmare. This many summers would be hard to supply...

[No, he's totally serious. Fashion is paramount to Inkfish in a way few can comprehend.]

[Text]

[evendeathmaydie]

[With how competent most of the people here seem to be, there's a temptation to overcompensate; to puff his chest up, and admit he'd been fighting monsters and helping to protect his town since he was 8, but he swallowed the impulse. Was it really cosher to brag about doing something that would have had you six feet under a hundred times over if you weren't immortal? Probably not, right?

Instead, he swallows his pride and sticks with the few skills he considers dependable.]

Hey! My name's Keni, and I'm pretty good at figuring out how to fix shit, I can sew if we can find or make some needles and thread, and I've helped out enough on farms to know how to plant shit.

I'm also pretty decent in a fight.

[There's a temptation to joke that he could also make for good canon fodder if all else fails, but he bites his tongue on that, too. No telling how everyone here might take that. It could ring alarm bell for some, or worse someone might take it seriously.]