welcome sleepies, to our very first meme saturday! every month a little mod-hosted meme will go up for us to play around with admist the chaos, and this theme was chosen by popular demand! we've all heard about texts from last night, but have you heard of......
MURMURS FROM LAST NIGHT
strange things happen in the night. maybe you drink, or dream, or get high as a kite, and it's hard to hide it! especially when we're all collectively connected in a way! the rules are quite simple! you may even know them by now.
π post a top level for your character and include a few text starters, like the ones provided.
π interact.
π thrive.
π if you wish for your threads to be game canon, the sky is the limit (just make sure your thread partner is okay with it!).
π We might have some special guests later.
[It takes him a little bit to respond. The anger is natural. He knows it is.]
[But humans are raised to believe they're now more evolved. That they've moved past petty differences and even more serious forms of hate. Anger is a thing to be put aside, to allow rationality, empathy, and diplomacy win the day.]
[...And yet.]
[In his room in the dorms, he sits there huddled in the dorm bed he claimed, knees drawn up a little. He's picking at a hangnail to keep his hands busy.]
In the Federation, growing up, we're taught to try to let anger go. To avoid backsliding, I suppose. Into the people we used to be, the kind of people that could destroy the world. At the same time, we know the value of what we have. It's not perfect but it's better than it was.
The Dominion wants to destroy it. They're conquerors, through deception and force. They want to conquer us. Our allies. Our enemies. Everyone. Their troops kill indiscriminately. They killed... I had helped set up a hospital in the Gamma Quadrant. The planet was uninhabited so it wasn't invading their society. It was everyone. The doctors, the nurses, the patients...
They make peoples economically exploited second-class citizens at best and slaves at worst; even engineering some species to revere them as gods. They can't even be free in their own minds. If people rebel, they send engineered plagues to wipe out entire planets. Generation after generation slowly dying of disease, living just long enough to prolong their suffering.
And they capture people as prisoners of war, even though all-out war hasn't been declared yet. Before I was here, I had the privilege of their hospitality. They stole me away from my bed at my lodgings at a medical conference in the dead of night. No trial.
They don't intend to let us go and there's a chance we'll never be found. If we ever escape this place, and go back to our last point of origin, there's a cot with my name on it.
Reconciling all that with - with what we're supposed to do with anger... just isn't. Easy. Even though I know logically that it should be done.
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[But humans are raised to believe they're now more evolved. That they've moved past petty differences and even more serious forms of hate. Anger is a thing to be put aside, to allow rationality, empathy, and diplomacy win the day.]
[...And yet.]
[In his room in the dorms, he sits there huddled in the dorm bed he claimed, knees drawn up a little. He's picking at a hangnail to keep his hands busy.]
In the Federation, growing up, we're taught to try to let anger go. To avoid backsliding, I suppose. Into the people we used to be, the kind of people that could destroy the world. At the same time, we know the value of what we have. It's not perfect but it's better than it was.
The Dominion wants to destroy it. They're conquerors, through deception and force. They want to conquer us. Our allies. Our enemies. Everyone. Their troops kill indiscriminately. They killed... I had helped set up a hospital in the Gamma Quadrant. The planet was uninhabited so it wasn't invading their society. It was everyone. The doctors, the nurses, the patients...
They make peoples economically exploited second-class citizens at best and slaves at worst; even engineering some species to revere them as gods. They can't even be free in their own minds. If people rebel, they send engineered plagues to wipe out entire planets. Generation after generation slowly dying of disease, living just long enough to prolong their suffering.
And they capture people as prisoners of war, even though all-out war hasn't been declared yet. Before I was here, I had the privilege of their hospitality. They stole me away from my bed at my lodgings at a medical conference in the dead of night. No trial.
They don't intend to let us go and there's a chance we'll never be found. If we ever escape this place, and go back to our last point of origin, there's a cot with my name on it.
Reconciling all that with - with what we're supposed to do with anger... just isn't. Easy. Even though I know logically that it should be done.