paradisamemes | (no subject)

(no subject)

Fourth Wall Meme

It's the return of the Fourth Wall Meme, and we're opening it for the next full week!

paradisa does not allow non-members to post or comment in our main community, so we're offering this as a place to roleplay with our cast. Both character journals and personal journals are welcome, as well as doubles, original characters, AUs, whatever. Not all can be applied to the main game, but they're certainly welcome here.

Premise:
You wake up in a giant, magical castle. Everything is beautiful and the castle grants material wishes. It also provides a magic journal to every resident that allows everyone to communicate with each other like a two-way radio.

Format:
[Actions] Dialogue.

IE:
[Mickey Mouse enters the room, and sits down at the kitchen table.]

Gosh, guys, is this place ever swell!

What are you gonna do?

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You're the fucking Director.

[Poooooooooooooooooint fiiiiiiiiiiiinger.]

And you are a fucking asshole.

I am.

[He puts his hands behind his back and stares imperiously at the sim soldier in front of him. How dare you sir.]

And you'll forgive me if I don't particularly care what you think of me.

Considering I'm one of the thousands of fucking soldiers you put through the meat grinder for your goddamned psycho love letter to your dead wife? That your insane group of emotionally warped super monkeys not only almost got me and all my friends killed more than once? That you almost killed my son?

[The finger went down, and into a fist.] Oh, fucker, you'd better care.

[His eyes flick down the fist and back up the emotionless visor of the sim soldier in front of him. Well now, this was a less than ideal situation.]

Do you really think those thousands of soldiers would have fared any better against the Covenant? Or the Insurgency?

You were all marked as cannon fodder by the military, considered useless for anything more than a quick death... if anything I dramatically increased your lifespans.

Listen, if we were fighting against them, at least it would have meant something. You put us in the most pointless fucking fight in the Universe. Thanks for that, douchebag.

[Huh, to think he actually wanted to live for something heroic. Weiiiird. Freelancers were rubbing off on him too much.]

But whatever. You were a crap creator and a crap leader and apparently a crap father so why should that change for some guys you didn't give a flying fuck about.

[He glares at Tucker and the hands held behind him clinch into tight fists. His voice is calm but icy with rage.]

I hardly expect you to comprehend the purpose for which you were selected. Given the abundant qualifications that brought you into my service in the first place.

But since you think so highly of my work then kindly return to me my armor. Go right back to whatever pathetic existence you called a life before you were given over to me to do as I saw fit with you.

[How about it Tucker? You want to go back to the way you were before you became a hero, a father and ambassador to an entire culture of aliens?]

Fuck YOU dude, I don't owe you nothing. Especially this armor. I stole this fair and square.

[Tucker glowered right back.] Also? Glass houses on the pathetic, man. All. The. Way.

You owe me everything!

[It's not a shout but it is force full.]

I don't give a damn what you think of me, but you will at least give me the respect I have earned!

[This quiets Tucker for a moment, before he lifts his helmet off his head to look hard at the Director. Once upon a time, this had been his best friend.]

Okay. You tell me. End of the fucking day, is my respect what you really want?

No.

[He eyes the sim soldier a moment. He really couldn't give a shit what the other man thinks of him. But he wasn't about to just stand there and let the other man insult him either.]

However, I will be treated with respect.

Well if you want your respect, man, give me a reason to. Because building armor isn't enough.

[Tucker didn't move his gaze away.]

[He snorts dismissively]

You have no idea just how much research and testing went into making that armor.

If you were to attempt to use the SPARTAN equivalent it would turn you into a mass of pulped flesh and shattered bone.

[Tucker rolls his eyes.]

And? Does it make me a better person? Does it help me love my son better?

It allows you to have some chance of defending your son against our enemies.

Unless you think you could do it without the armor?

[Oh good grief. He's not going to be happy until Tucker says something about the fucking armor. He really is Church. One track fucking mind.]

Thank you for the armor, Director. [Said in a mono-tone.] It's spiffy.

[The armor is just an example. Something that Tucker would take for granted, that actually took years of R&D to get working. And the armor is only a fraction of the ultimate goal of the Project.
Which he has absolutely no expectation that Tucker will understand or appreciate.]

Now, if you're done wasting my time...

[Plus, face it... the armor is pretty damned impressive. He could have just handed it over to ONI as is and they would have wet themselves with joy.]

[Tucker shook his head in disgust. Yeah, that's right. Tucker, the lowly sim soldier, thought as much of the Director as he did alien shit. Which wasn't much besides 'nasty'.]

The copy of you is ten times the man that you actually are. No wonder she loves him and not you. [And with that, Tucker turns his back on the Director, and starts walking away, muttering under his breath.] And no wonder everyone under your command turned into a fucking mess... what a douchebag...

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