shit, apologies. sent it too early
no hand-eye coordination moment
1 Like
ffs
did it again
sorry
24 HOURS AFTER RACE START
IN A SMALL GARAGE OUTSIDE OF THE TOWN OF VENNO
24 hours after the race started, all the teams were informed by race officials to report to a small, family-owned garage just outside the little town of Venno, beside the river Yavsk. For many teams this meant diverting from the route they were taking, causing much annoyance among teams such as Team 722 and Team Drippy Spotches, who had been planning to travel along the coastline of Fruinia and had to turn around. For Team Turbolag, it had been an arduous task due to the fact that they had become stuck in the river Yavsk, attempting to cross it further upstream in the hilly terrain that formed the start of the Northern Mountains.
“I just don’t get it,” said Zoey, tapping her foot in frustration, “We could have been on the move and been miles ahead of everyone else by now, like what the hell is this even for?” Laura listened attentively, agreeing with the fact that the stop did seem pretty pointless, the garage wasn’t even open, for God’s sake.
Eventually Team Turbolag rolled up, sopping wet from having to stand waist-deep in freezing river water half the evening to get the car out. By this point all the teams (apart from Team Milkvan, who had been seen driving very slowly and laboriously around the town, looking at the teams through a pair of very inconspicuous binoculars. Due to the government nature of their vehicle, it would likely score a 1. [however, it is still a very heavy van, and they seem to be more intent on finding the so-called aliens than winning.] None of the teams paid this any mind, they were pretty much all accustomed to the strange, identical nature of John, John, John, John and Jill.)
Finally, almost a full hour and a half since all the teams had arrived, the garage doors slid open and a blinding florescent light streamed out into the dusk air. A man, dressed in what seemed to be a white lab coat and brown Doc Martens stepped out of the white, gleaming garage, very unfitting of it’s shabby, delapidated exterior.
what the interior of the garage looked like
“Welcome, Teams, to the mandatory car examination! Our team of trusted, experienced mechanics are going to take a look at your cars, and determine how good (or bad) they actually are!” he spoke in a clear, English accent and spoke it all with a very white smile. He pulled out a clipboard and began to read out the teams, in no particular order.
“Team Omelette du Fromage!” he said, and with worried glances at each other they rolled the CESMA Colombe into the garage, parking over the lift where the man in the labcoat beckoned them out of the vehicle. A team of people swarmed the CESMA, looking it over with meticulous precision. After a few minutes they went over the the man in the labcoat and said something to him, and he turned back to the teams.
"Team Omlette du Fromage scores a 8! Here is your cars specs:
- Drivability - (was 42.7, now 39.3)
- Sportiness - (was 3.7, now 3.4)
- Comfort - (was 14.8, now 13.7)
- Safety - (was 31.7, now 29.2)
- Offroad - (was 26.0, now 23.92)
- Reliability - (was 71.1, now 65.4)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $2400
“See, I told you it’d be a death trap.” Daniel whispered to Astrid and Thomas, who looked surprisingly calmly at the clipboard in their hands.
“Maybe, maybe not. It seems to be decently reliable at least, and we got some money back aswell, so, that’s good.” Thomas replied. Astrid had backed the car out of the garage, and was setting about laying out some boxes of pasta and a picnic blanket by the river.
“What are you doing?” asked Daniel, walking over to her.
“Well, since we’re going to be here for a while I thought we would have something to eat, and besides, look at that view!” she said, gesturing to the slowly setting sun casting brilliant colours of orange and purple across the dusk sky, fading to black directly above them. They all sat down as the other teams started filing into the garage, two at a time.
Team Ecowareness (score of 2)
- Drivability - (was 52.1, now 50.9)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 16.1, now 15.8)
- Safety - (was 36, now 35.3)
- Offroad - (was 18.4, now 18.1)
- Reliability - (was 73.3, now 71.9)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $560
Team Drippy Splotches (score of 10, please let me know if you would like to re-roll)
- Drivability - (was 30.4, now 27.4)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 13.0, now 11.7)
- Safety - (was 36.5, now 32.8)
- Offroad - (was 47.2, now 42.4)
- Reliability - (was 62.4, now 56.1)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $2720
Team Friendly Offroader-ish Thing (Score of 3)
- Drivability - (was 43.4, now 42.1)
- Sportiness - (was 14.5, now 14.1)
- Comfort - (was 8.5, now 8.2)
- Safety - (was 32.6, now 31.7)
- Offroad - (was 44.1, now 42)
- Reliability - (was 74.1, now 71.8)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $966
Team Totes Cheery (Score of 5)
- Drivability - (was 22.8, now 21.6)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 1, now 0.5 [what the fuck how is that even possible] )
- Safety - (was 18.9, now 17.4)
- Offroad - (was 36.2, now 34.4)
- Reliability - (was 63.4, now 60.2)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $935
Team Shift Happens (Score of 6)
- Drivability - (was 37.4, now 35.2)
- Sportiness - (was 6.3, now 6)
- Comfort - (was 11.4, now 10.7)
- Safety - (was 39.9, now 37.5)
- Offroad - (was 43, now 40.4)
- Reliability - (was 63.1, now 59.3)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1752
Team Good Things (Score of 2)
- Drivability - (was 55, now 53.9)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 14.4, now 14.1)
- Safety - (was 30.6, now 29.9)
- Offroad - (was 22.1, now 21.7)
- Reliability - (was 68.8, now 67.4)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $524
Team Slow (Score of 6)
- Drivability - (was 55.3, now 51.9)
- Sportiness - (was 2.5, now 2.35)
- Comfort - (was 9.5, now 8.9)
- Safety - (was 34, now 31.9)
- Offroad - (was 4.2, now 3.94)
- Reliability - (was 67.3, now 63.2)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1932
Team 722 (Score of 8)
- Drivability - (was 26.5, now 24.4)
- Sportiness - (was 4.7, now 4.3)
- Comfort - (was 0, now 0)
- Safety - (was 28.1, now 25.9)
- Offroad - (was 0, now 0)
- Reliability - (was 60.7, now 55.8)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1776
Team Dusk
however, before Team Dusk were scored they noticed a small problem.
“What the fuck.”
“Our taillights have been fucking stolen”
“I mean, who the hell steals a pair of taillights?”
After being given some spare ones from the garage, Team Dusk got a score of 4.
- Drivability - (was 41.4, now 39.7)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 15.9, now 15.3)
- Safety - (was 28.2, now 27.1)
- Offroad - (was 39.5, now 37.9)
- Reliability - (was 71.5, now 68.6)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1096
Team Hillybilly Rollers (Score of 5)
- Drivability - (was 44.2, now 42)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 18.7, now 17.6)
- Safety - (was 37.3, now 35.4)
- Offroad - (was 37.4, now 35.5)
- Reliability - (was 72.9, now 69.2)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1490
Team FinGer Airway (Score of 6)
- Drivability - (was 45.5, now 42.7)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 8.4, now 7.9)
- Safety - (was 29, now 27.2)
- Offroad - (was 35.9, now 33.7)
- Reliability - (was 70.8, now 66.5)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1308
Team Turbolag (Score of 3)
- Drivability - (was 52.2, now 50.6)
- Sportiness - (was 15.3, now 14.8)
- Comfort - (was 16.5, now 16)
- Safety - (was 37.8, now 36.6)
- Offroad - (was 33, now 32)
- Reliability - (was 60.2, now 58.3)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $1008
By this point the sun had almost fully sunk below the distant mountain ranges, and most of the teams were sitting by the river, either eating or talking or reading or tending to their cars. Even Team Milkvan seemed to be eating, or at least sitting still without attempting to spy on the other teams. It was peaceful, and as the velvety black of the Fruinian sky engulfed the world, Martha felt herself become drowsy. The soft light of lamps, the quiet chatter of the other teams, the buzz and hum of crickets and night-bugs; it all seemed so peaceful. And the night sky was like that of a fairytale, with stars glimmering and twinkling all set in works of art as if by some cosmic force, and the Milky Way glowing in all of it’s radiant, beautiful light. Martha knew that tomorrow it would be race day for real, and that after tonight she wouldn’t have time to just stop and admire the stars again. She wasn’t particularly competitive, apart from some board games but she knew that Mikel was desperate to win. She had only just managed to convince him to stop and visit some places Martha wanted to go, and to go up through the mountains and forests. Mikel was a good person, but once he decided to do something there was little that could change his mind. As the night continued to grow deeper and deeper, the teams began to retreat to their tents, content in the knowledge that this was more than just a race against some random people, but a race against some friends (friends may be a strong word), or some enemies (that seems more appropriate).
The night grew still, but the clock, did not.
7 Likes
Wait, is more score bad?
(onceagainonmyphoneblahblah)
JANNE: Look, the vehicle inspection gave me some proof, we have a sound vehicle!
MARIE: Yeah because probably nobody have wanted to drive that POS so it is hardly worn at all!
1 Like
Team Shift Happens
Team Information and Story Start
Pre-Race Prologue: Hotel Hackery, Armed and Dangerous / Checking In, A Little Recon, Making a Big Deal for some Beer, Trade Relations, A Fine Trade for the Good Stuff, Fire, Steel, and Beer.
The Race: And We’re Off!.. To The Starting Line.
Malavera arrived at the inspection booth with the car looking no worse off for him driving it, though the distinctive reek of a burning clutch followed the car all the way up to the garage. There had been a hill, with a stop sign on it, and while Malavera hadn’t stalled the car once, it had taken him five minutes to get over that hill. He was sure the other teams who had been stuck behind team Shift Happens’ car were far from happy about the delay.
The four team members and their leashed leopard got out of the car, returning it to a comically-high ride height as the inspector put it up on the lift and looked it over.
“Sorry about the clutch,” Malavera said.
“Nekasi. Clutch is wear item,” Rukari replied. “Easy fix. Remove propshaft, unbolt gearbox, slide back hand length and drop down gearbox, unbolt clutch from engine. Use tool in box to put new clutch on engine, then do removing steps backwards.”
Kaylie wrinkled her nose at the smell still emanating from the car. “That smell is going to be with us for quite a while, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Most likely,” Kayden said.
Just then, the inspector wiggled something under the car and got showered in clutch dust for his troubles. The swearing in some language that was most definitely not English made the team smile.
“You know, Rukari, you’re driving the next leg of this. It won’t survive if I drive it again this early,” Malavera said.
“Nekasi. Vi weh kosa val kasivah,” Rukari replied.
“Good,” Malavera said.
Kayden and Kaylie shared a look, then shrugged. Kaylie shrieked and squirmed as she brushed her neck with her slightly-colder-than-body-temperature left shoulder. “Fuck! I hate when I forget about that.”
Kayden chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
OOC: Obligatory translation for what Rukari said. “No problem. I will ride our work-beast.”
Also, yes, he would call the driveshaft (as we say here in America) a propshaft instead. Why? Boating culture. He comes from a place where one of their rites of passage is, at the age of 6 or 7 (roughly 9 to 11) is to learn how to control a small river-boat. So, yes, they learn to boat before they’ll ever learn to drive.
1 Like
yes. a score of 1 is basically brand-new and a score of 10 is like an absolute piece of shit wreck
2 Likes
Can I have a reroll?
aight
1 Like
Any progress here?
1 Like
There Be More Essays.
That top photograph still having a bit of margin despite trying everything to get rid of it to 0 is really annoying me.
1 week after the race’s original start date
7:41
Race preparation area
“Wait, Another one?”
The sun reflected brightly enough off wet environment to impair visibility, impairing their ability to observe actors in the east. Beyond this, Team Milkvan had no interest in the condition of the environment, even under normal circumstances. Today, though, their apathy was magnified by a recent, much more exigent occurrence in the van.
“This individual was one of the receptionists,” John explained to his chief, “and was the person who originally reported the dissapearance of the individual sequestered last week. She stormed over this morning, accusing us of being involved in the disappearance of her sibling and attempting to force her way in.”
“So you mean, after a week of manipulating local officials and stalling the competition’s start to conduct a faux investigation so we could cover up the matter, specifically to keep his family and friends from asking questions, his sister came in and attacked us anyway?”
“Yes.”
The chief paused a second, to try and wrap his head around the situation. Then, a thought crossed his mind. “Actually, how did she know to suspect us?”
“She claimed she suspected us based on the fact that we were purportedly the last car she judged” Relayed John, “despite our car not being the last one on her roster. We plan to make the exchange with the ambulance at 7:51, where she will be taken to the prison hospital to be further questioned.”
“Ambula- Prison hospital! What do you mean prison HOSPITAL?!”
“This individual was far more aggressive and agitated than the earlier individual, and retaliated at our attempts at tranquilization. We had to fire on her to put down her attack.”
This prompted the chief to start to panic, which he shortly expressed with an “Oh shit,” before starting to look for a way to mitigate the issue. “so… has anyone else heard the shot?”
“The incident happened inside the van. It’s unlikely the gunshot would have been audible from outside.”
“Readings on my decibel meter confirm,” relayed Jill, who was outside spying on Team Turbolag, “that the gunshot would probably not have been loud enough to be noticed by someone who wasn’t explicitly listening for it.”
“Well, there’s that.” Said the chief, still a bit overwhelmed, “alright, you guys deal with the perp, I’ll make sure no more police reports happen until after the race is off.”
“Understood.” John disconnected the cell phone and put his shoe back on, after which he rejoined John, John, and John inside the van. John and John were tending to to the injured suspect and the resulting mess and residue, as John performed administrative tasks from the computer.
“2 Minutes remaining until departure. All units get in position.”
As the others prepared the inside of the van for transport, Jill left her post from on top of a nearby tent and began to sneak back to the van. By the time she arrived to the passenger side door, preparations had been finished, and John had made it to the steering wheel. The moment Jill shut the right door and sat down, John turned the ignition and began to drive to the festival.
“Anything of note?” asked John, through the team earpieces even though they sat right next to each other.
“One major red flag came up” Reported Jill, who continued to look directly forward despite not being the one driving. “The one identified as ‘Martha Woodrow’ assaulted the one identified as ‘Mikel Eltern’ with a plastic tent pole, dealing a single blow in the back of his head. Neither seemed to regard this assault as a very severe incident.”
“Given how critically important the head is in human anatomy,” John analyzed, “it seems unhuman of them to risk such a serious injury so lightly. Did the victim display any signs of injury?”
“No. He seemed only momentarily startled.”
“Understood. We will investigate that team at our earliest opportunity, to identify their true anatomy.”
Arriving exactly 2 minutes before the race’s lead presenter came onstage, the now injured-person-free van parked itself exactly parallel to the direction of traffic. The 2 agents in the front cabin immediately got out of their doors upon engine shutdown, and remained standing perfectly still and silent next to their doors while waiting for the presentation to start. And after 2 minutes and 43.81 seconds (they did, in fact, record to that level of specificity), a man came out on a microphone.
“Hello and welcome to the 36th annual Fruinia to Archana Rally!”
As the man continued to drone on, Jill and John watched around the crowd to gauge contestant’s reactions, trying to see who might be showing any sign of unusualness. They already had some suspicions; for example, Team Slow Strikes Back! appeared to have shown up with an unfinished car, as they’d been trading parts with and eliciting mechanical help from other teams all week; almost as though they needed a human’s help to figure out an Earth car…
“As you may see we have a relatively small turnout this time…”
Then there’s Team Totes Cheery, who hadn’t done much of anything unordinary the past week. But looking at them get excited for the race, it became clear they hadn’t looked very cheery about their car the past week. 2 of them, at least, seemed to always look at it with slight disdain. Perhaps it wasn’t up to the same quality standards as the spaceship they came here in…
“…but with all the tensions between countries at the moment that is to be expected.”
Speaking of Cheeriness, there was Team Friendly Offroader-ish Thing. Sure, they seemed to be friendly enough, but when no one else was around, none of them actually seemed to be in a good mood. Even now at race start, they seemed pretty reluctant about this contest. And they called their car by name… Mr. Bricc? What if they were being given orders through the car from some higher official, to complete some unpleasant mission…
“But, as we’ve always said, why should that stop us?”
With all the cars together now, FinGer Airway’s van started to stand out somewhat. With it’s white shape, round windows, 2 covered spare tires… The van almost looked like a plane! And considering the agent’s had already hidden their base as a car, what’s to stop them from hiding a spaceship as one…
“Well, ladies, gentlemen and extraterrestrials-”
The comms exploded.
John: “GREAT SCOTT!”
John: “HOW DOES HE-”
John: “CHIEF! COME IN! ARE YOU HEARING THIS?!”
John: “HOW MUCH DO THE OTHER OFFICALS KNOW?”
Chief (on radio): “I HEARD EVERYTHING. WHAT THE HELL?!”
John: “ARE WE SURE HE’S NOT ONE OF THEM?!”
John: “ARE THEY IN COHORTS WITH THE RACE OFFICIALS?”
Chief: “WE KNOW THE TARGETS ARE IN THE RACE ITSELF, BUT WE DIDN’T RULE OUT THE POSSIBILITY OF WHO ELSE MIGHT KNOW!”
John: “WE NEED TO QUESTION THAT OFFICIAL IMMEDIATELY!”
John: “WHERE DOES HIS AGENDA SAY HE’LL BE NEXT?!”
John: “HOLD ON, WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF THE CREWS?”
Chief: “NO, YOU NEED TO STAY WITH THE PACK! I’VE GOT AGENTS IN THE AREA, I’LL COME IN AND INVESTIGATE.”
John: “OUTDOOR AGENTS, HAVE ANY OTHER TEAMMATES REACTED TO THIS NEWS?”
John: “I’M GETTING THAT MAN’S PROFILE UP TO YOU RIGHT NOW!”
John: “THERE MAY BE MORE HERE THAN WE THOUGHT!”
Outside the van, John and Jill were unable to respond to radio chatter as part of their cover; but the surprise of the event, as well as the questions spinning both in their heads and their comms, meant they failed to observe any more meaningful data.
Once the host gave the command to get ready, they reentered the van in unison and ignited the engine; moments later, they timed their start to the order with computerlike precision. They drove along, always dead center in their lane, always exactly 3 seconds behind the car in front (or as close to it as their van’s acceleration/deceleration would allow, given the chaotic nature of this startup), and always with their head on a swivel.
The race presenter watched as the last cars disappeared around the first bend, proud of what he’d helped create. Sure, turnout had been low, but the creativity and personality of the ones that’d made it were already turning this event into one of the most interesting he’d ever worked on.
The last car finally disappeared from view, and a few moments later, the dust it’d kicked up faded too. Within 5 seconds of the dust no longer being visible, however, over 20 cars converged in the starting parking lot. These debaged and unmarked police sedans and vans -all of which 5 or less years old- appeared to materialize out of nowhere, roaring in at full speed with sirens on, and instantly surrounding and filling the lot. Once stopped, personnel rapidly poured out of every vehicle, all of which seemed at first glance completely identical; in fact, they all seemed to perfectly resemble Team Milkvan’s members, except they lacked hats and sunglasses.
Except one particular member seemed different; almost, strangely enough, like an individual. Appearing somewhat older than the rest of the agents, and the only one with any identifying government badging on his suit, he and 2 officials got out of one of the sedans and walked straight to the presenter.
“You the host of this contest?”
The presenter had yet to feel very threatened about their arrival. “I presented the start- what are you all-”
The 2 agents immediately grabbed him, and slammed him up against a van he didn’t realize he was standing next to, before beginning to bombard him with a list of questions.
“Who are you?”
“What do you know about the presence of extraterrestrials in the competition?”
“Who are the extraterrestrials?”
“How many extraterrestrials are there?”
“How did you find out about the extraterrestrials?”
“Are you human?”
“What is your role in the competition?”
“How did you come into this role in the competition?”
“Why do you speak with a perfect English accent despite living in a region where English is not a dominant language?”
“Why has your car’s black box ceased working as of November 8, 2015?”
“Why do you manage 3 different twitter accounts out of your home’s IP address?”
“Why are you working with the extraterrestrials?”
“Where are the extraterrestrials from?”
“Why is the ‘work stuff’ folder on your computer 200GB in file size?”
“What about this parking lot makes it ideal for hosting a race?”
After about an hour of interrogating like this, and of background checking the man’s history, the officials gathered the information that this dazed individual had heard of the idea of extraterrestrials in the competition as a joke/rumor that had been going around, and had decided to reference it in his opening speech in jest; he in truth knew little of any actual aliens in the competition. The agents considered this information 82% reliable.
Once finished, they dropped him on the floor, and proceeded to talk amongst each other while doing something unseen with his belongings. The official, meanwhile, was still stunned to the point that he wasn’t really capable of coherent thought.
“W…wha…wh-who are you people?!”
The apparent leader calmly looked over his shoulder at the guy for a second, before responding “Police,” and then returned to what he was doing.
As all this occurred, the rest of the agents had been busy; but of course, the frazzled presenter had allocated absolutely no mental space to observing what. Instead, he just sat against the van for several minutes trying to even get his conscious working again.
“I…if you’re police…d… you know anything about the missing judge?”
No response.
“T-that went missing with 2 teams left to grade?”
The heads turned to look at him so fast, they might as well have teleported. “He had one team left to grade. Explain.”
“W-well, I-… one was technically past preliminary check, but… but they were also supposed to check another thing f-for, elements that might be questionable. -Like, stuff they couldn’t be sure of on their own. And, uh, he didn’t do that so he’s, uh, we have to look at it closer in, uh, examination tomorrow.”
The trio started walking towards him.
“ACTUALLY NO, uh, THEY DON’T NEED TO COME!” He stood up in a panic as they got closer. “THEY DON’T NEED TO COME TO EXAMINATION! IT’S FINE, JUST A DUMMY CHECK, PLEASE DON’T COME TO EXAMINATION PLEASE, IT’S FINE, THEY DON’T NEED ANYTHING, PLEASE DON’T COME, BY GOD PLEASE! PLEASE, NO NO NO NO NO no no nonoₙₒₙₒₙₒₙₒₙₒₙₒₙₒₙₙₙₙₙₙₙ”
Now standing right on top of him, the leader stood for a few moments looking down on the presenter, who had pressed himself against the side of the van. “Correct.” he finally said, returning the presenter’s keys and wallet. “We’ll contact you when we need anything. Tell no one about this, or your ‘misc’ folder goes public.”
And they walked away. All agents filed right back into the cars with the same order and swiftness which they had first gotten out of them, and drove away, as the presenter stood alone in the parking lot
…
The presenter lifted his head, and found the numbness in the side of his head, as well as his arm and pelvis, give way to shots of pain as they separated themselves from the pebbles and ground that had been digging into them for some time now. Raising himself upright, he looked around the open space he was in, the mountains of the north still looking down around him in the distance, seeming like pillars that held the overcast sky over his head. And here he sat, with no clear thought passing through his head for an uncounted and lengthy period of time, as his system struggled to boot up.
The first thing he really became conscious of was that he felt terrible; just god awful. The second thig was his observation that most of his pain came from his right side, specifically on his head, which felt like it’d been supporting his body’s entire weight resting on a lego brick- there was still a few rocks there, as he lifted his hand to feel it. His arm was the other main source, as he could feel the numbness only now fading to life. He also noticed a point of pain in his neck… there was something there. A dart? He’d pulled it out and now looked at it for a moment, before losing interest. God he felt awful… dehydrated, especially.
The dart prompted him to remember just what had happened earlier today. He’d started the race, he… there was a lot of commotion. Government officials? Something went very wrong, a lot of questions… then what? He was still in the parking lot, he didn’t remember leaving…
He tried to look for his phone, to see if it’d give him anything important. Ah, there it was, just sitting there on the ground. The case had broken open, like it usually did whenever it fell. His wallet was there too… oh, it was where his pelvis was. That’s what had caused the digging sensation there.
A few messages were waiting on the home screen. “heard something happened at the starting lot, are ya’ll okay?” +21 more. “Hey, are you coming to the hotel tonight, or still sleeping at home?” “When are you expecting to arrive for the exam?” “Dude where are you!?” And that’s when he looked at the time on his phone- no, not the time, the date. It’s already tomorrow!? Oh lord, he was supposed to be helping set up at the garage 20 minutes from now!
He quickly got up to take note of where he was and what he needed to do from here, trying to find… see… remember where his car had been. And in that moment of urgency, he briefly stopped thinking about those that had got him to this point.
While the presenter hurried to get to the garage and tried to pull himself back together, Team Milkvan sat camping at the garage, watching teams arrive. Having collected observational data about every team over the past week, the agents had now decided to interact with the other members during mandatory examination, to earn their trust; and then see what information they could bring out.
About an hour before the presenter opened the garage, John walked as inconspicuously as possible up to one of the teams. this one been one of the later arrivals at the garage, though it came as part of a small train of cars following them through the entrance. Their car, he noticed, smelt like it was on fire.
John knew the one he was approaching was called Kaylie Linn Grayson, and that the team was called “Team Shift Happens.” He knew he had John and John in the van, with all known background information on all the team’s members and the team itself up on his computer. But this is not something that an average civilian would have access to, and he was undercover; Normal people have to ask someone’s name, and normal people have to politely introduce theirs as well.
John arrived next to Kaylie, and politely introduced himself:
“Name and occupation”
Kaylie, who knew of his presence but wasn’t actually expecting him to stop and talk, was a bit taken aback. “Oh, um… hi there. I’m kaylie. What’s your name-”
“My name is John.”
“Hmm, alright. Nice to meet you, John.”
With John now having gone completely still and silent again, Kaylie grew unsure how to proceed. Was he about to say something? Waiting for her to say something? Is the conversation just over now?
For John, however, things weren’t that silent. In his comms, John and John were pouring over the base’s computer, hurriedly searching for a perfectly normal conversation starter.
John: “I don’t see much we could use in her bios.”
John: “She has a prosthetic limb we could comment on?”
John: “No, the handbook says pointing out disabilities is considered rude, unless the disabled individual draws attention to it themselves.”
John: “Does she have an internet presence? Perhaps it could reveal some hobby of hers.”
John: “Here’s something, she runs a minor web blog about car restoration.”
John: “Perfect. Any particular type of car?”
John: “Nothing specific. Actually, it’s not just about cars at all, here’s an episode about boats”
John: “We can still start a conversation off it. Look up something on vehicle restoration.”
John: “Here’s a potential conversation starter. John, say this:”
And with his most casual voice, John made small talk:
“A full vehicle restoration can take many years and can cost tens of thousands of dollars.”
That line was spoken with so much monotone formality that Kaylie, whose mind had instinctively started to wander away from such an awkward moment, was not fully sure she had even heard it in the real world.
After a day of taking turns speaking with as many teams as possible, 3 of the team members reconvened to discuss what teams had scored.
John: “Any ratings stand out?”
John: “No one car was suspiciously good. Though there was one particularly poor showing from Team Drippy Splotches’ Abraham FD12; bad enough that the organizers let them work on it a bit.”
John: “Makes sense that an extraterrestrial wouldn’t know how to identify a good earth car.”
John: “Someone who wanted to blend in probably wouldn’t make their car stand out, but they’d still want something good quality. Which teams scored best?”
John: “Both Team Good Things and Team Ecowareness got the highest scores in the competition.”
John: “Those are the smallest cars in the race… It’s pretty suspicious that a team of ‘drunks’ have sent such a great car.”
John: “Now that I think about it, they’ve been drunk all week! What a convenient cover for a species that’s not used to bipedal locomotion…”
John: “That Mara is also one of the newest cars here. How would a car that new fit into the competition’s budget cap?”
John: “Because it’s a Mara, it was never very good to begin with. But a human would realize that.”
John: “John and Jill are actually investigating that team right now. Jill, find anything?”
The trio waited for Jill, who was feeding John a line for Ecowarness’s “Laura Insigne,” to finish up.
John: “Only approximately 20-40% of oil spills can be attributed to equipment failure or malfunction.”
Laura: “Exactly! Finally, someone gets it! Most of these spills are pretty easily preventable, but people aren’t even really trying to solve the problem because local governments won’t do anything about it!”
As Laura continued talking with (to) John, Jill turned to address the others. “They claim to be a student environmental group, whose apparently going around blogging about environmental concerns they find. It makes for a perfect cover story; their youth explains their unfamiliarity with things on Earth, and their ‘Eco blog’ allows them to openly survey the area without questions being asked.”
John: “Agreed, that one seems particularly suspicious. After we complete this conversation, let’s stop pushing for today and report back to chief with our findings. We don’t want to go too far in one day, or we might start to stand out.”
And the team did just that, after which retired to get their regulated amount of rest and and prepare to pursue their leads in the coming days.
gonna try and shorten down the essay writing next time good lawd-
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Team Shift Happens
Team Information and Story Start
Pre-Race Prologue: Hotel Hackery, Armed and Dangerous / Checking In, A Little Recon, Making a Big Deal for some Beer, Trade Relations, A Fine Trade for the Good Stuff, Fire, Steel, and Beer.
The Race: And We’re Off!.. To The Starting Line, Under Inspection
Kaylie stared at John for a few seconds, shook her head slightly, and said, “You know, if you were a fan of “Kaylie’s Garage,” you could have just said so. And yes, complete restorations take a long time and a lot of money. I don’t typically do complete restorations, I take something lost or forgotten or abandoned and I put some modern parts in it, make it drive again, make it into something unique. For a while, it’s a rat-rod, a car with a rusty shell, but a powerful new engine. Then, as I get the time and money to work on it, I improve it.”
John stared for a few seconds, before asking, “Where does the money come from?”
“Donations, mostly,” Kaylie answered. “Also, my side job as a mechanic.”
“Why does your vehicle smell like it is on fire?”
Kaylie grimaced. “Because Malavera over there doesn’t know how to drive stick. Technically, Rukari’s the only one who really does, but it’s like the last thing he drove that way was an old truck. Malavera was doing well until we found the hill with a stop sign. Straight to the redline and slipped the clutch the whole way up and over, filled the car with clutch smoke.”
John stood there and stared at her, as if waiting for more questions to ask, before turning and walking away toward a different team.
Kaylie stared at him, shook her head, and muttered under her breath, “Fucking weirdos.”
Malavera scowled as he tried to look up information on the other teams in his own way, searching social media accounts and looking for satellite images of where their cars had been, only to keep getting interference and connection issues. “Right. Someone’s playing dirty and has secrets to keep,” he grumbled. He reached around the side of his custom built 20 pound rugged laptop and clicked on the hidden switch, activating the power-hungry signal booster contained within. He fired up a network and frequency scanner and found an awful lot of data flying around near the flat black van, glared at it, and popped a set of earbuds into his ears on his left head.
With his frequency scanner program running, he tried to tune into their comms, grinning maliciously as he started to listen in on the team everyone knew the least about. While they talked among themselves, unaware that they’d been compromised just yet, Malavera ran a bit of software meant to guess passwords and smiled as he logged into the van’s wi-fi access point. Now he was on their network, and the fun began. Within seconds, he found team Milkvan’s gathered data on the teams, as well as an interesting 200GB folder marked “Release if Discovered.”
Malavera made sure the laptop’s solid state drive array was mounted and ready, then quickly selected the Team Data folder and the mysterious 200GB folder and copied them to his laptop’s internal storage. At the same time, he listened in for any hints that they knew about his intrusion, but if they knew, they were keeping quiet. As a parting gift, Malavera dropped a little program into their system designed to detect newly created or accessed files and upload them to Malavera’s private web-server, one that, if it was traced back to, was merely owned by someone named “Glass Walker.”
Switching off the booster once the files had been downloaded, Malavera switched on the satellite uplink, made a backup copy to his private server, turned off that power-hungry radio, and then opened up his rally racing game again. He also reached to his watch and started a stopwatch timer, still listening in on team Milkvan’s communications. "Now the fun begins. How long will it take them to realize they’ve been hacked? Malavera thought, already sending a digital rally car spiraling off the track and into the trees with a loud digital crash playing through the main speakers.
When John walked over to Rukari, however, the Valraadi didn’t startle despite being approached from behind. “Vuri ada ahd nevuri marin,” Rukari said, startling John instead as Rukari turned around to face him, taking his attention away from wiping the dust and dirt off of their grill.
“Name and occupation,” John said. His ears were full of conversations back at the van, same as before, trying to get him any information on Rukari that he could.
“Rukari Khakrin-Veldrothan, Grundzahiri Vyrzadoburi. Your name?” Rukari replied, his hand straying to his belt where the bulge of a pistol could be seen.
“My name is John.”
“John what? John Marston? John Smith? Best hope not John Smith, he owes me much money,” Rukari replied.
After a couple of seconds, John replied, “My name is John.”
Rukari curled a lip, baring his canine teeth momentarily. “John what?”
“My name is John.”
“Who was your father?” Rukari growled out.
“His name is John.”
Rukari shook his head. “Okay, John the Mateless, have it your way.”
Before Rukari could ask another question and put John on the defensive again, he asked, “You gave your occupation, but I don’t know the language. What exactly do you do?”
Rukari gave a malicious smile and slowed his speech just a little, enough to speak in clear and full English instead of his usual broken English. “I am what your people would call “special forces” or “special operations.” If you think you can frighten me, you are very mistaken.”
As Rukari noticed John’s concealed pistol peeking out from under the suit, Rukari gave a menacing chuckle. “You are armed too, I see,” he said, giving a brief nod toward the gun. “If you think weapons scare me, you are sadly mistaken. This would not be my first gunfight, John. I have seen combat three-hundred-forty-four times,” Rukari said, speaking the unfamiliar number slowly, but clearly. “Two-hundred-forty-seven successful missions where I was not seen, not heard, and my target dealt with. Draw, if you wish, but I warn you, only I will survive this encounter.”
John didn’t draw. He could see it in Rukari’s fiery orange eyes that this mysterious being had no fear, no worries about killing. He moved his hand deliberately away from the gun, while Rukari’s hand remained resting on the grip of his revolver. “What do you do for fun?” John asked, hoping to break the tension and get a bit more information from him before leaving.
“I sail. Being on water is relaxing for me,” Rukari said, letting his English slip just a little again. “Nothing between sea and sky but a bit of wood, cloth, ahd rope.”
After a long pause, John said, “Learning to master the ability to sail can take a lifetime.”
“John,” Rukari said, looking the man straight in the eyes, “I have been sailing since age of six.”
“Sailors experience fatalities at a higher rate than that of other sports known for high speeds, falls and collisions,” John added.
Rukari gave a grim chuckle and moved his right hand away from the gun at last, grabbing his pipe, packing it with tobacco, and lighting it with a sparker from his pocket. He took a long draw from it, blew the smoke over John’s head, then said, “Friend, I’m dangerous. Run, little rabbit, back to your den before I choose to go hunting.”
As John left, Rukari chuckled again.
Kayden saw a slightly-frazzled looking John walking toward him. “Oh, great, it’s you,” Kayden said, grimacing. “Yes, I’m Kayden,” he said, before John could even say anything. “Didn’t you think it was a little suspicious going around asking people in the teams about themselves at the inspection garage? Everyone else did this before the race started.”
“What are you doing?” John asked.
“Untangling the mess of rope that Malavera threw in the trunk,” Kayden said with a snarl.
“Why is there rope in the trunk?” John inquired.
“Because Malavera is an asshole and he threw all of our hammocks into the trunk,” Kayden said, “without caring about how much of a mess they’d be later.” Kayden started picking another knot out of the rope with his claws. “Seriously, these three hammocks aren’t going to untangle themselves. Either help or leave, John.”
John wandered away instead of helping, which was just perfect in Kayden’s mind, as he really didn’t want to have to explain that he was a pilot.
(OOC: @Edsel I hope I did well with John here. Figured that no one would bother Malavera right away because he’s got that obnoxious racing game, but that Kayden and Rukari were open enough. Kayden just happens to be paying attention, and Rukari is perhaps your team’s greatest nightmare, because he’s perceptive (he has to be to have survived his job as long as he has), and he’s not exactly fearless, but he knows exactly what his limits are. No one here can out-draw him, and he knows it. He also knows he’s wearing a bullet-proof vest under his gray shirt, under his leather jacket. As for Malavera, well, he’s being a nuisance because he can be. And yes, he knows that intruding on someone’s network is an easy way to get found quickly, but he also knows that if you’re signal-jamming like that, you have secrets to hide.)
this aged well.
Team Drippy Splotches (score of 7 on reroll)
- Drivability - (was 30.4, now 28.2)
- Sportiness - (was 0, now 0)
- Comfort - (was 13.0, now 12.1)
- Safety - (was 36.5, now 32.8)
- Offroad - (was 47.2, now 42.4)
- Reliability - (was 62.4, now 58.1)
- Money Back (2% per number) - $2720
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Lost some motivation however
Team Slow
Striking back yet again. Hackery some could say.
cope for the bad formatting. If you’ve forgotten.
(Mobile yet again as of writing this up.)
2016 Fruinia to Archana - Krongrad or Bust! - #62 by interior the beginning, provides some insight. (Different car however If you follow the rp I done here until the crash sequence)
As the not so zippy hatchback goes 30ft near the van, Matt tunes into the frequency of Ecowareness through frequency scanning software on accident whilst trying to look for pirate stations. How? God knows. Ah well it’s just posts about being conservative for the environment. Meanwhile with the car however the torque converter was still broken. Somehow propelling the car still, however with a bit more stalling. There’s a reason why the 3 speed versions weren’t so desirable.
Uhhh. The team have to take a brief pause to replace a flat tire. We get going again after 20 minutes of removing a stripped lugnut. Truly has to be painful. Damn right it is.
John: You know how we had to replace a stripped lugnut?
Matt: Yes? Oh right it was very hard to get off, Somehow this car lives.
John: You own one of em, don’t you?
M: Mines a GLX AWD
John: oh.
To be continued.
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Any progress?
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uh… hi?
yes, i know there hasn’t been much activity here for a while. I haven’t been very active for a while.
So what’s happening?
Well, I’ve been stuck in a creative dam of sorts for the past couple of weeks, meaning that i have essentially left both automation and the forums - i don’t want anything i make or write to be just half-arsed.
In addition, I have exams. Oh joy. And a very messy friendship issue which is… not fun. But, rest assured that FtA will see a conclusion. Eventually.
also i kinda just can’t be bothered to do writeups or anything at the moment hhhhhh
so uh… yeah. i’ll probably try and get something out within the next week but don’t be surprised if there isn’t.
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Don’t worry lol. This challenge is not a big deal, so you could do whatever you can. No need to be that stressed. Take your time.
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ON HOLD IN ORDER TO PERSUE OTHER PROJECTS
UPDATE TO COME ON MAY 13th AT LATEST
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So, what’s happening with this?
Well, for one, all the cars are now most likely outdated- meaning that importing them will likely break them, and require (resubs? if not i could remake them)
Two, my browser reset itself and I have no clue what website I used to set up the RNG
Three- the thread’s ancient; 5 months old at this point. Is there even any point in continuing it?
So there are a couple of options.
- Continue in 4.2 with some sort of explanation for the changed appearances.
- Start over, with a blank slate
- Officially close the project.
Please LMK what you feel would be best.
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