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shieldacademyau2014-08-22 10:07 am
adminfury) wrote in shieldacademyau2014-08-22 10:07 am
[Event] If you want to get out alive...
Those that sleep will awaken to a pitch black room with nothing but the faint red glow of the emergency lighting. This glow seemed to frame the ceiling of the room and gradually pulsate between a dimmer glow to a glow almost bright enough to read by then back down again. Every electronic device in the entire academy, dorms, and general building on the SHIELD grounds would display a black DOS-like screen with bright crimson lettering that read a simple, cryptic message.
Activating the new message brings up another black screen with a mostly legible message to the students of SHIELD Academy. This ominous message doesn't seem to be salvageable by even the most brilliant of computer programmers. The file is just corrupt and there is nothing that can be done for it. It's a wonder the thing opened at all, to be honest.
Those that didn't sleep would have found the lights had suddenly gone off around 0400. Shortly following the assumed harmless power outage, the usually white glowing strips lining the edges of every room would have faded to a red that indicated a warning. The red lettering on the screens would have followed after that and finally, a good ten minutes into the disquieting silence, the blue message alert appeared. They would have found their doors locked, and the windows all barred by solid adamantium panels.
There is no riddle to be had here, no teacher seems to be present to consult. The students were alone, required to rely on eachother, their own cunning, and their unique abilities.
For those poor souls trapped in the Hazard Room, well... just don't make any sudden movements. The training protocols seem to still be active. Fortunately, they are set on moderate difficulty. You had been looking to hone your skills and blow off a little steam. Well, you just got your wish.
Mod Notes: Treat this post like a mingle-log. OOC plotting can be found here.
Targets and Weaponry: SHIELD bots come in a variety of sizes from no more than a foot in height to nearly four feet and come armed with a plethora of weapons designed to subdue and capture. Weapons designed specifically to counter the abilities of those that live here, just in case they lose control.
Small built-in turrets keep hidden behind sleek panels in the ceilings of most hallways and in the ground outside. These turrets fire wide range of power nullifying munitions as well as good old fashioned taze rounds.
Targeting sensors on all the machines and turrets use facial recognition to identify each student. Their powers and weaknesses are recorded in the main SHIELD database, which it refers to and decides the best course of action.
| SYSTEM ERROR LOCKDOWN MODE INITIALISED |
Activating the new message brings up another black screen with a mostly legible message to the students of SHIELD Academy. This ominous message doesn't seem to be salvageable by even the most brilliant of computer programmers. The file is just corrupt and there is nothing that can be done for it. It's a wonder the thing opened at all, to be honest.
| the ⬛yste⬛ has bee⬛ compr⬛⬛ised time is short so make haste you have ⬛⬛ ho⬛rs to get out ⬛efore th⬛ purge sub⬛outine demo⬛⬛sh⬛s ⬛⬛e ⬛uil⬛⬛n⬛ to con⬛ain the th⬛⬛⬛t t⬛e cent⬛al c⬛⬛pu⬛e⬛ m⬛st be rea⬛⬛⬛d and reb⬛ot⬛⬛ dea⬛ti⬛ate the l⬛cking mechanis⬛s on yo⬛r door by ḁ̧̼͙͑5̡̙̩͎̭͗̆ͯ̍⬛̱͈̤̦̊͂ͩͦ̓̋n͉ ҉̬g̲̹̟̘̃ͣͤͬ͢y̩͔̓ͯͩͣ͑ͭ͜⬛ 8̘͍̳̤g̴̅ͫ̂⬛̲̞̺̜͉̿ ̢̲̙̗̩̐ͣ̍͊͗̚3̑͐̓͏⬛ ȁ̹̯̘͙͓̔́ͫ̈̃̃͡d͓͇̤͕͎̦͒ͪ̂̏m̷ͥ̃̇ͯ ⬛̠̩̯ ̌̓̂̉̽͏̯1̮͇̯͉͉͚̪͜ṇ̥͐ ̖̰̖͎͙̹ͨ͟ F̷̘̮̺̥̅̀ͯ͊ͣ͆̏Ȗ̩̦̅̈́̄̌R̨͔͎͎̥̱̼̘̈́ͧ̋͗̔̚̚Y̋͞ |
Those that didn't sleep would have found the lights had suddenly gone off around 0400. Shortly following the assumed harmless power outage, the usually white glowing strips lining the edges of every room would have faded to a red that indicated a warning. The red lettering on the screens would have followed after that and finally, a good ten minutes into the disquieting silence, the blue message alert appeared. They would have found their doors locked, and the windows all barred by solid adamantium panels.
There is no riddle to be had here, no teacher seems to be present to consult. The students were alone, required to rely on eachother, their own cunning, and their unique abilities.
For those poor souls trapped in the Hazard Room, well... just don't make any sudden movements. The training protocols seem to still be active. Fortunately, they are set on moderate difficulty. You had been looking to hone your skills and blow off a little steam. Well, you just got your wish.
Mod Notes: Treat this post like a mingle-log. OOC plotting can be found here.
Targets and Weaponry: SHIELD bots come in a variety of sizes from no more than a foot in height to nearly four feet and come armed with a plethora of weapons designed to subdue and capture. Weapons designed specifically to counter the abilities of those that live here, just in case they lose control.
Small built-in turrets keep hidden behind sleek panels in the ceilings of most hallways and in the ground outside. These turrets fire wide range of power nullifying munitions as well as good old fashioned taze rounds.
Targeting sensors on all the machines and turrets use facial recognition to identify each student. Their powers and weaknesses are recorded in the main SHIELD database, which it refers to and decides the best course of action.
no subject
"Ok," he manages to get out though he feels like he's going to throw up. "Not trying that again, something is blocking my magic,"
no subject
It's one thing to watch Billy do his magic and have it work -- that's a whole area of impressive that she's a little jealous that she can't take part in, but only a little -- but it's a whole other thing to watch that magic backfire. She leans over to check on him, but her hands are also available to help pull him up.
"Are you okay?"
So it's so late!
no worries!
Grim-faced, she turns back to the door and then gets a little taller. Well, that's a bit of an understatement. She's exhausted, though; she can feel this draining her already. She's been practicing all night; she's worn out.
"How many of these things can there be, right?"