taxonomites | Entries tagged with + aliens

Twenty-four hours after the first environmental malfunctions....

Every tablet screen in Taxon fills, simultaneously, with static-- cutting off conversations (or match-3 games), refusing user commands, and generally misbehaving, for a good twenty seconds.

Then an image flickers into life. It's a hamster, and inasmuch as you can read emotions off a creature that looks like this, it seems worried.

For those of you in Taxon who have never yet seen the rumored 'hamster'-like appearance of your Beloved Overlords, enjoy it while it lasts. The hamster nervously runs its paws over its whiskers, wriggles its nose, and glances 'off-camera' several times without saying anything.

Finally: "Is this thing on?"

(From 'off-screen') "Yes, YESYES, go, I don't know how long the patch will HOLD."

The hamster squeaks, and clasps its wee, clawed hands together.

"Right!! So, we, we realize there have been some -- interruptions! -- of regularly scheduled service lately! VERY SORRY. Very sorry about that! Most disconcerting, we're sure! Not to worry, everything is under complete control."

(The screen erupts into static again, and frantic, high-pitched arguing can be heard in the background.)

When the picture returns, the camera is at an angle and the brown spoke-hamster seems rather disheveled, its fur mussed.

"UNDER COMPLETE CONTROL. Please go about your regular business. In fact, please-- have a-- a vacation, on us. A little holiday! Something pleasant and sweet and relaxing! A token of our sincere regret for the unpleasantness!"

The hamster giggles, a nervous, frayed sound. "Take two Jelly Bellies and call us in the morning! Good night! Sleep tight!"

And everything goes black. Not just on the tablets, but for everyone.

When you wake the next morning (each of you in your beds-- yes, even if you don't have or usually use a bed, even if you're normally nocturnal), you'll find that Taxon has... changed. Again.

theextras

As dawn breaks on Thanksgiving morning, one or two things are different about the Taxon we all know and love.

Most notably, the streets are positively littered with, yes, you guessed it, turkeys.

Live. Turkeys.

Also notable is the fancy, ginormous T-Rex skeleton on display right outside the Sanctuary. Isn't that a nice thing to greet the newcomers with? It's got a plaque and everything!

Even more notable, because all good things come in threes, or so the aliens have newly discovered: just in time for Thanksgiving dinner, all the tablets in the city light up with a cheerful, hamster shaped hologram. The hamster wears Appropriate Festive Gear.

"Happy Thanksgiving, citizens! Aren't you glad to be alive this time of year? Isn't Thanksgiving a wonderful holiday? Yes it is! Say it with me!"

Crickets may chirp, insults may be thrown in its face, but the happy hamster goes on. "In honor of the bond forged between the Puritans and their new found friends, the Indians*, you will all find a dream catcher by your bedside tonight. And remember the old Indian proverb, Never speak of another before you have walked two hundred miles in her moccasins. Isn't that nice?"

Look at its beady, beaming eyes full of holiday cheer. "When you go to sleep tonight, hang the dream catcher above your head and think of all the things you are grateful for. What have you learned from your neighbour's moccasins? Do they pinch? Dream yourself-- back to yourself.

"Make it a good one! Be thankful!"

And that, as they say, is that. The hologram blinks out of existence. Somewhere out there, in the dark, lamp lit streets, an Extra chases down the last of the turkeys.

All is quiet. Shh. Shh. All is well.

For now.

* It must be noted that the aliens have a) a poor grasp of history, and b) no idea what political correctness is.

taxcollectors

It's a Monday, and research showed that Mondays were tricky and that people don't especially like them. Especially fat orange cats, they found the day particularly distasteful.

Despite the lack of fat ornage cats among the city's citizens, the aliens decide a change of pace will be nice. So the meteorology division does...whatever it does, and the heat and humidity which has enveloped Taxon for months is replaced by something a bit milder. Sure the humidity's still there and there'll likely be rain on Tuesday, but still. This is nice, yes? Of course it is!

Along with the weather they send a message, a little note to remind the citizens that they still care.

Hello everyone! Lovely day, isn't it? You're welcome!

We have some things to tell you! First, there are pumpkins available in Sanctuary Square which you can decorate or make into delicious pies that you can decorate too. Second, there is a stable in Shelley with horses! Horses you can ride and up your giddyness! And finally, we love getting suggestions for making your home cozy. Please do write, we find it very informative and entertaining!

That's all for now! Take care of yourselves and each other! (*^3^)/~☆

(That's us blowing a kiss, see?)

Responses to the text will not be replied to, but hey, there is always the suggestion box.

OOC: Mingley open post for getting your whatever on, enjoy :D

taxcollectors

"Hello citizens! Hellooo!"

It had been some time since that cheery greeting had first rung out across the tablets but there it was once again, accompanying a holographic broadcast from the arrival room. The platform was occupied by two hamsters of unusual size, the first with short tawny fur and the second with long white fur. Both were waving their little paws.

"Long time, no chat," the tawny one pronounced and scratched at its ear. "Sorry about that, we've been awfully absentee."

"Yes, it is most unfortunate," the white one agreed. "But we've been quite busy, and still are! Holiday rush and pinched budgets, you know how it is."

"They do, they do! Happy new year, belatedly! Though it's still early for Mr. Long, isn't it?"

The second hamster nodded. "Oh, yes, a little early yet. The point is we have a teensy bit of time now."

"Just a little, just enough to answer a few questions and take a few comments." The first hamster waved its paw. "But then it's back to work, so make it quick!"

eventextras.livejournal.com

After much diligent work, the alien technicians have successfully rebooted the Taxon project. Citizens will not notice the interruption to ~~services~~ their lives, and will wake up with no idea that the city (and they themselves) had briefly ceased to exist. It will be September, and there will be nothing wrong with that.

Nothing wrong aside from missing friends and loved ones - absent as a result of records lost to the Other Aliens' hacking attempt - that is. A few citizens will have holes and blind spots in their memories which are unnoticeable to them, another residual effect of the attack.

Beyond that, life continues on. It is chilly at dawn as the fake sun begins to climb its false sky, the Extras open their shops, the animals stir in the zoo and the forest, and the citizens of Taxon awake to face a brand new day.

ooc: And we're back! Thank you once again for your patience.

eventextras.livejournal.com

Taxon is offline.

The source of the radio signals, the other entities who wish to liberate the citizenry, managed to launch an attack on the city's programming. The resulting instability threatened the entire endeavour, and so in a desperate attempt to save it the alien caretakers went with every technician's solution of last resort:

They unplugged it. And plugged it back in.

Rebooting will take some time, and the effects of the hacking may linger, but soon the Taxon program will be up and running again.

ooc - The game is on pause as we reorganize. Tentative relaunch date is September 1. Thank you for your patience!

flochart.livejournal.com

"Say, why's this thing so empty?"

Flo, the newest alien on the Taxon Board of Affairs (there is no board of affairs, she just finds amusement in abbreviating it TBA), is making a personal visit to Taxon today. As in, in person. She's got the suggestions box in her hands, lifted from it's hook on the wall. It's upside down and she's shaking it, expecting something to come out. She even holds it up above her head to peer inside, just to be sure.

Nope. Nothing.

"I doubt you guys don't have any suggestions for us," she says to the tablet, directly to the screen. Yes, citizens of Taxon, she means you. "From what I hear, you want a lot of things. Mittens cried for days after that whole ordeal."

The hamster's name is not Mittens. That won't stop her from calling him that, though.

Have something to say, Taxon? The wonky weather, the ties that bind (literally), etc. Say it! Flo's here and she's ready to listen.

taxcollectors.livejournal.com

The presence of Aliens in the building was something uniquely un-ignorable, and uniquely catch-able.

After a rousing bout of 'Catch the Hamster in the Giant Hamster Wheel and Watch Him Cry,' both he and Mayhem are on display in the first floor lobby and on tablet screens all over.

...In a giant ball guarded by one Taxon's resident angry witches.

Mayhem is under the assumption that it's made of found materials, magic, and Willow's pure, unadulterated hate. The Hamster just sits in his pseudo-corner as far away from her as he can get and grooms himself.

Come one, come all! Ask your questions, get some answers. Kick them, even! It's doubtful anyone will stop you.

[ ooc: THE TIME HAS COME! Both the Hamster and Mayhem are here to be interrogated, negotiated with, and potentially kicked in the face. You can also comment and talk to Willow instead! ]

honoraryhobo.livejournal.com

The sun's scrambled high into the sky like a sure-footed kid climbing a tree—it's the itch under his collar and the sweat on his palms. He raises the hoe and swings it down into dry earth, sending up a puff of dust. There's always one weed left. Sun's baleful glare on his back, he drives the blade in again. He hears himself grunt (it sounds more like a squeal, like he's gonna cry) as if from far away.

He must close his eyes because the next thing he knows his hands are empty—slick with sweat and streaked with dirt but empty. He wipes them on his pants and looks up.

His eyes go wide. His arms prickle with goosebumps; he hugs himself against the sudden cold. He takes a step back, then another—it's a white room with a bed and the covers are rumpled. Maybe he should see if they're warm but he takes another step back and stumbles over a bottle. A gasp snags on something before it can escape his throat. He freezes, goes rigid. Listens with all his might.

The tablet switches on to show a dark-haired boy in clothes—a grimy shirt, suspenders, brown pants—that are worn but not ratty stooping to carefully right a whisky bottle.

entractes.livejournal.com

Kurt's explorations finally bring him to the 11th floor! Took long enough. After spending some time just acclimating to the new stage area, he is hit with something of a wonderful idea.

"Attention, Taxon!"

Needless to say, Kurt was excited.

"As you are all probably well aware, none of us appear to be going anywhere anytime soon. But don't despair, I have a solution to the doubtlessly growing boredom of you being stuck here." He turns the tablet around to pan the camera around the stage area as he talks. "Since coming here, I couldn't help but notice that the city is a little bit of a cultural deadzone, but I know there are at least a couple of diamonds in the rough out there. So, I propose..." he pauses as he often does for the sake of tension, "Taxon's very own glee club."

He turns the camera back to himself, "Not to worry, this won't be the stuffy, uptight choir group you may have heard about at your local church. Instead, this will be an opportunity to express yourself, to let loose, and experience something wonderful. For those who don't perform, you are more than welcome to watch or sway along merrily in the background.

"So, if you would care to join me, Kurt Hummel, in the 11th floor Playhouse, let's get some introductions going. In lieu of just standing around in a circle and talking about ourselves, you would ideally come ready with a song that you feel tells your story and be ready to sing. No pressure, though." He totally understands if you aren't like him and don't always have that sort of thing ready to belt out at a moment's notice.

eventextras.livejournal.com

It's around five o'clock in the morning when the citizens of Taxon find themselves inexplicably transported into rooms within the Sanctuary. Doors are left open and beds unmade, food abandoned and lights left on, still shining brightly for those who were awake and are no longer present. The Extras don't seem to notice the captive population's sudden disappearance, continuing on with their business as usual.

For those relocated, though, it's an entirely different story.

They find themselves in rooms with white, alabaster walls that gives them an almost too-clean feeling, as if the entire place was sanitized prior to their arrival. The room assignments are seemingly random, people placed on floors with those they don't know and don't like, people they would rather not be within twenty feet of. It matters not, for what's done is done and cannot be undone. For those who happen to have pets, they'll find them waiting for their owners in the rooms as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

The only thing the captives have managed to bring with them is the clothes on their back and the tablets. On them, they find the following message:

SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE PLEASE ENJOY YOUR STAY WHILE WE ADDRESS CERTAIN TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

Unfortunately for those who try to find a means of escape, they'll discover there is none. Leaving the Sanctuary will prove to be as difficult as leaving Taxon itself. However, if one heads down the right corridor and the right floor, they'll find something else entirely lurking in their midst...

( ooc | sorry for the delay in posting! your mods were otherwise occupied with things of the irl variety this morning. THIS BE A PARTY POST, Y'ALL. room assignments are here, and refer back to the sott post proper for any additional information. please contact us with any questions/concerns you may have in regards to this plot. ♥ )

eventextras.livejournal.com

[ it's happening again. there's a burst of whining feedback, and static that lasts for a few minutes with sounds barely audible beneath it. then the message loops and all of taxon can hear its message in english. ]

We could ---kssh--- in culture, but ---kssh---

We are people ---kssh--- their lives how they want to live, ---kssh--- is best for you.

We want to free ---kssh--- stars roaming ---kssh---

We want to revive their culture ---kssh--- never know, but for himself.

As they discuss how best run ---kssh--- make you free.

They can create very carefully, but they are not gods. You have ---kssh--- to live as they need to keep hiding the force ---kssh--- primitive notion that humanity ---kssh--- stood in the validity of creation ---kssh--- entrapment.

We ---kssh---

We believe all ---kssh--- you know what is best for you, you will know ---kssh--- believe you ---kssh--- life.

As you make mistakes ---kssh--- without tracks, set to ---kssh--- their entertainment.

---kssh--- believe in you, we will appear.

[ it starts to loop again but doesn't get too far before there's another piercing round of feedback to announce the end of the signal. you are returned to your regularly broadcast programs. ]

[ ooc: the end of the radio transmissions! backdated to saturday, because sometimes we accidentally forget to post things when they need to be posted. this also heralds the end of the language glitch, so feel free to have your characters overcome their frustrations and speak freely! ]

eventextras.livejournal.com

[ here it is again, citizens. the static, the feedback, the voice. this time the language is only from earth in the most technical sense: it's klingon. ]

We could explain ourselves, the similarities and the differences of our cultures, but this it ---kssh--- we are here.

We are those, you for ---kssh--- freely for lively your life, there want, lived this, not, like a group of ---kssh--- considered is better for you.

We want you, over ---kssh--- border to be ---kssh--- wander around the stars, as your persons have it before you.

We want it, in order to be in position, your culture for the ---kssh--- Examination or a society, ---kssh--- them alone. ---kssh--- as much better them your lives run, which for ---kssh--- we would have to free itself here.

It knows ---kssh--- would attentively have created you, but they are not Gods. They developed to permit in order to ---kssh--- their investigation and rather, as you in order to live, since ---kssh--- you hidden, and that you ---kssh--- the primitive meanings to go ---kssh---

While we defended ---kssh--- we can observe your seizure at the trap.

We believe in you.

We believe the fact that you are all independent ones - that you ---kssh--- with you and of your family.

We believe that you know to be lived as your life. Even, ---kssh--- your kind via the life without the ---kssh--- are intended by those for you, which look for only their maintenance.

We believe in you and are coming.

[ it cuts out after a few lingering seconds of static. ]

[ OOC: Klingon language denoted with bolded text because actual translations for this much text are kind of impossible. ]

eventextras.livejournal.com

[ it's happening again. the static, the feedback, and then the low murmur of a voice. speaking in chinese this time, in between the disruption of constant static. ]

我们会解释，但为何我们这里，我们的文化相似性和存在的不同，可能性。我们是自由的你，我们要和他们的人 - 自由地在你的生活你能在自己 --kssh-- 为了相称的活它，尊重你的这一事实是我们程序员的组成 --kssh-- 明星是你的人的比例，为了漫步在你面前的一个自由守护的测试，是有是，希望的城市。我们在空锡你你这 --kssh-- 知道，尊重高兴，但对你和你的文化重建不想肯定。直至现在， --kssh-- ，以模仿，是符合免费，从这里我们谁建立符合第一 --kssh-- 方法，切断喜欢的事情，你的生活。你和他们完全建立，这个地方也有人鞋，但是没有。为了使您在布上要建立自己的浮躁和学习， --kssh-- 你们人类呼吸糠增益它可能做的方法是不够的，你相称，你所掌握的可以活到是一个寒冷的夜晚这跟他们的概念是原始在一起。我们 --kssh-- 我们不会到现在为止，并没有改变，使得在你刺痛你的操作无法继续 --kssh-- 们相信你。我们相信，而且这一切他们对你的独立写 - 那 --kssh-- 自己和你的家人领域尊重你们谁是你懂得它的好东西是 --kssh-- 。你这是我们生活的约认为，这是了解你的生活如何。这你的果子尽快实现，你会带领尊重你猜他们是在外 --kssh-- 发现没有遵守这些方法谁寻求他们的娱乐活动。我们在遵守与我们相 --kssssht--

[ another loud burst of static and the voice is gone. anyone analyzing the signal will notice it's coming from a precise direction: below them. ]

eventextras.livejournal.com

[ after the familiar whine of feedback, words (in portuguese) can be made out through the fluttering static. ]

Nós, no entanto, as semelhanças e diferenças entre ---ksssh--- própria cultura pode explicar por que estamos aqui, não é.

Você acha que são um grupo de ---ksssh>--- uma vida livre da carga - nós temos pessoas que querem a liberdade.

Nós somos as pessoas que partilham o mesmo destino antes de vagar livremente e ---ksssh--- inspeção, quando eu quero ser.

---ksssh---

Eles estão localizados perto de melhores ---ksssh--- de vida, para falar sobre como dirigir, mas estamos aqui para a liberdade.

Eles ---ksssh--- mas eles não são deuses. Para sua ---ksssh--- e sua pesquisa tem sido escrito que eles estão escondendo de você e que você poderia ter a raça ---ksssh--- com a noção primitiva é forçada a viver. Estamos ansiosos para a ---ksssh--- da sua criação não pode ser ---ksssh---

Nós acreditamos em você.

Quanto ---ksssh--- você sabe o que é o melhor, você pode cuidar de ---ksssh--- pensamos que todos devem ser mantidas. Sabemos o que você acha que eu vivo a minha vida.

Mesmo se você ---ksssh--- aqueles que buscam o seu lazer ---ksssh--- longo da vida sem você.

Nós acreditamos em você, nós estamos ---ksssh---

[ with that, the signal dies. ]

deniedthesight.livejournal.com

Angela's tablet clicks on to show her hunched over an open textbook, pen in hand as she occasionally jots notes in a notebook that's been set open beside it. A Bible and several other books, all of which are on the occult, are spread out in front of her, and one of them is dangerously close to falling off the edge of her desk. There's a half-drunk cup of coffee beside her, and after a few minutes, she sits back and rubs at her eyes before grabbing the cup and taking a sip - and promptly spitting it back out.

She makes a face, then glances at a nearby clock, eyes going a bit wide when she sees how much time has passed. A hand comes up to rub at her neck as she tips her head back - and then she spots the tablet's light flickering and makes another face.

"Oh, for the love of -"

And then she reaches out and turns the transmission off.

slayersidekick

Because, once again, Willow cannot face the tablet network that is Taxon, she is making this post audio. It's clear from the way her voice cracks that she's been crying. She is officially a mess. It's not like Tara to disappear like this, which makes her wonder something she doesn't want to even think about.

What if Tara's gone...?

Willow, honestly, has no way to tell, no way to know. So, she does the only thing she can think of:

She asks Taxon.

"Uh, h-hey, Taxon... I know I've been here a while and I should, uh... probably know the answer to this... but I-I just wondered...."

Breathe, Rosenberg.

"I-is there any way to tell if someone's, y'know... gone gone instead of just... here gone?"

She's currently taken Colette the kitten for a ride out to Tamper and Trick because someone needs to watch the shop and she could really use the kitten's comforting warmth right now. If anyone, friend or stranger alike, wants to find her, she'll be there all day.

Current Music: Seether (Feat. Amy Lee) - Broken | Powered by Last.fm

eventextras.livejournal.com

Something is wrong with the radios of Taxon today.

All stations, all frequencies, are experiencing some unusual interference. First it's just static, the familiar kssssh of bad reception.

Then it changes.

It's a voice, inhuman and distant, overlaid on the regular broadcast. The words aren't any proper language, either. As the signal grows stronger their tone becomes clear. Firm and reassuring but steadily shifting into something more powerful. Something like a speech to an audience of faithful.

Suddenly there's a burst of loud static and a second of earsplitting feedback and it's back to your regularly scheduled tunes.

[ ooc: the radios have a purpose! feel free to investigate and find out that this particular call wasn't coming from inside the barriers. ]

aintnoconvict

Behold, Taxon, possibly the most ridiculous thing ever seen on the tablets: Glitch, bathed in the intense gleam of a rainbow, standing beside a pot of gold.

"Look what I found!" he said, all excitement and grinning and pointing. "It just...behind the shop, there's this rainbow and it looks like it goes--" He gestured in an arc to indicate some great distance across the sky. "B-but here at the end there's gold."

Then Glitch remembered he was in the city of horrors and frowned, giving the pot of gold a skeptical look. "Okay, so...what does it mean?"

ooc - yes, crack. also here be aliens.

taxonmods

The fake sun is high in the projected sky over Taxon today, and things are beginning to change.

Street by street, building by building, things are snapping back to normal in a great wave of progress. Bodies disappear completely as the moves through the city. When the last building fades back into its former glory, the power throughout the city snaps back on with a gentle thud and low hum of electricity.

Half an hour later, all over the city, the Extras reappear as if they had never left. They walk to their simple jobs, perform their tasks, chatter amongst themselves in their background nothing language. No sign of the plague is in them or their behavior.

Those who had been lost in the plague are back, too, crowded together in the arrival room at the Sanctuary, bright and new as if they'd never even been scratched even if they remember.

Once that's all finished, the citizens get a special broadcast as an exceptionally handsome man appears on the tablets. He is standing in a bathroom, dressed in nothing but the white towel wrapped securely around his hips and a beguiling smile. When he speaks, his voice is deep, warm, and soothing.

"Hello, ladies and men. We would like to begin by offering an apology for the recent unpleasantness. Some research for a simple virus had been conducted, but there was some confusion with implementation and the results were less than ideal. I wish to personally assure you that repairs are well under way, and Taxon has been restored to its usual scintillating glory."

He pauses, and trumpet bells appear to either side of him to issue a fanfare and confetti. They retreat immediately.

"Additionally, I must convey my extreme pleasure at how well you acquitted yourselves. I am not sure I could have done as well, unless I was firing lightning arrows from astride my velociferrari. I wish I could craft trophies made out of medals made out of 24-karat gold stars for each of you, but I only had room in my budget for one," and with that he reaches off screen and hauls said Stanley Cup-sized trophy into frame. "Which I will now accept on your behalf."

[ ooc: ZOMBIES OFFICIALLY AND COMPLETELY OVER, EVERYTHING IS BACK TO NORMAL! Expect publicly viewable alien on alien comments in this post, threadjack them at will. For more information on the end of the zombie event and additional plotting for all of your dead folks, please go to this post. ]