Being a criminal in a world where technology has advanced far beyond space travel comes with its complications. It makes getting away with things harder. It makes hiding harder. As the Intergalactic Guard (IGG) has cracked down on law enforcement across the galaxy, more crime has been exposed and brought to justice.

Unfortunately, for you, this isn't good news. You've found yourself on the losing side of that battle.

Now you're serving time in a high-security prison that remains ever sailing in the eye of an eternal space storm called the Crystal Ring: a formation of planet-sized crystal meteorites continually forming, crashing into each other, and breaking apart. Here is the end of all activity - criminal or otherwise - and the end of all hope thereafter.

The only way out is in a heavily guarded vessel built to withstand the pressures of the storm's raging, and all access routes to it are unknown. You're not a guest here. You're a prisoner.

Good luck adjusting to your life sentence. Did I mention there are no windows?

ENVIRONMENT: Notes on Setting

Spoiler

- Prisoners are confined to their cells 50% of the time. Feel free to arrange cell mates in the OOC.
- Security Detail:

- Cells are monitored 24/7 with multiple cameras inside and out. They monitor both audio and sound. Alarms go off if inmates initiate any violence or inappropriate behavior.
- Cells don't have "bars" or "doors," instead they are three-walled cells with a fourth force-field wall operated by a control panel outside of the cell blocks or remotely from prison guards' handheld devices on their arms. Voice and facial recognition are required for permission.
- All inmates wear "dimming" cuffs regardless of powers and the cuffs can be activated by guards to stun/taze inmates if they act out.
- "Scrying Eyes" (Security Drones) travel the halls, cafeteria, and recreation areas to monitor inmate activity.
- Inmates are allowed out of their cells three times a day: twice for communal mealtimes in the cafeteria, and once for recreational time.

- Meals consist of three options: humanoid-friendly foods (edible to humans/human-like people), anthropomorphic-friendly foods (edible to animal-people/creatures that have more animal traits), and cyborg-friendly foods (meeting mechanical needs). Regardless, it's all cafeteria food: so it sucks.
- Time is an illusion: it is what the prison makes it. With no sun and no windows, the clock the prison runs on is of its own making and all light is artificial. Those who are attentive would do the math:

- The prison runs on a 35hr clock:

Hours 1-12: Cell Confinement/Sleep/Rest.
Hours 12-15: Mealtime 1
Hours 15-20: Cell Confinement
Hours 20-25: Recreation
Hours 25-30: Cell Confinement
Hours 30-35: Mealtime 2

- Currently, there are four prison guards assigned to a block on rotating 7-hour shifts. That's 5 shifts per 35-hour period. These guards are in charge of releasing and ushering prisoners to their mealtimes and recreation time on foot through a series of secure hallways with checkpoints.

WORLDBUILDING: Characters and Background

Spoiler

- Your character can be human or alien: any alien races are open for use, but none can be OP (overpowered).
- If your alien character has special powers, they fall under the same rules as all others: their powers are "dimmed" and inaccessible to them, so all prisoners are on the same playing field and cannot overpower, instakill each other, or "bypass the system." - Inherent, "mundane" abilities are okay. Examples: "My character glows in the dark," or: "My character has dark vision," or: "My character has enhanced smell."
- If characters have biological or robotic enhancements, those are also included as inherent traits. Examples: "They have a large robotic arm," "They have a robotic eye and a memory chip with enhanced memory capabilities and computer functions," or "They have genetic modifications so they have wings and perfect vision."

PLOT: Points of Conflict

Spoiler

- You are sentenced to life, and you don't want to be stuck here forever.
- Anyone with enhanced alien powers or abilities is required to wear their "dimmer" at all times: a set of highly advanced and unbreakable cuffs locked on your wrists (or neck, or other limb-like appendages) that hinder your access to your abilities.
- You're beginning to hear rumors amongst prisoners that the IGG plans to do away with employed humanoid prison management. The advancement of AI and robotics has made it so your humanoid rotation of prison guards will soon be replaced with soulless robots who cannot be influenced to bend the rules or give leniency. Sounds a bit scary, doesn't it? Because it is.
- Might be a good idea to start looking for a way out of here... it's sounding like your window is about to close: where escape was once improbable, it might soon become impossible.

DO YOU WANT TO JOIN?
Do so! All are welcome with no limits to how many can pop in. The caveats:

- For those who come and go, you can write your character freely in a slice-of-life style in their experiences and interactions while in prison on the Pheligian Falcon.
- For those who want to stick around for the full storyline: I.E. the Prison Escape plot, plan to stick around for the follow-through of any plans your characters make with others or plan to write them out of it (if life happens) so the other writers can move forward (Examples: getting caught, killed, giving up, disempowerment).
If you're joining in the middle of an ongoing scene, communicate in the OOC if you need help finding a way to introduce your character or if you want to start a separate ongoing scene with someone else—since not all characters have to interact at the same time!
- I'd much rather have this be active than have people afraid to jump in for fear of causing waves. If you can't get ahold of anybody -- do it first, and apologize later (and we shall all be gracious)! Lol.

Still want in? Here's your character sheet in the spoiler! Fill it out and submit!

Inmate CPs - Unlimited!

Spoiler

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Gender + Pronouns:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Race + Abilities:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]The Crimes that Put them Here:[/b] (anything generally defined as criminal activity counts, but feel free to come up with specific crimes to whatever fictional planets/areas they come from or were on -- keep in mind this is the highest security prison around, though. so it needs to be a real crime worthy of punishment)
[b]Motives:[/b] (include their reasons for escape -- what's waiting for them outside of prison, what they want to return to, what they fear)
[b]Extra Notes:[/b]


Prison Guard CPs - Only 3 Guards Allowed!

> 1/3 Slots taken
> NOTE: These guards will be integral pieces in helping prisoners escape and double-crossing the system. If you'd like this character slot, please consider sticking around for the plot's completion.

Spoiler

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Gender + Pronouns:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Race + Abilities:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Motives:[/b] (include what landed them here as a prison guard and their motivations for helping prisoners -- could be as simple as the impending loss of job security, a personal beef with the IGG, or a checkered past of doing time before working as a guard that causes them to empathize with those stuck in the system)
[b]Extra Notes:[/b]


Slop. They were feeding them slop and calling it food. That's what Kazimir thought of it, anyway. Who in their right mind would call this stew? He jiggled the bowl as he received it from the cafeteria line, frowning slightly in disappointment as the unidentifiable meats wobbled with a little too much passion in the ruddy-colored juice. Did it smell edible? Sure. Barely. But you could call anything food when you were hungry enough: and by god was he hungry. There was too much damn time between meals for his stomach. He wanted food yesterday -- whenever that was.

Kazimir stuck the bread roll in his mouth as he walked over to the nearest table, never caring for where he sat.

He'd been in this hellhole for seven years, and at this point, he knew everybody's face even if he couldn't remember all of their names. If people didn't like him they knew to move somewhere else. He was going to sit where he sat and that was that.

The table was long and grey, matching the lifeless monotone effect of the entire facility. The stark white lights overhead didn't help with the sterile effect it had on the room or his mood.

Bah. He took a big spoonful of stew and chewed it down.

Tasted like chicken. It always tasted like chicken.

Oh, so they were serving the red slop today. Not Marius’s favorite. It wasn’t like he had a real favorite— since that suggested anything the mess hall served was even remotely likeable— but if he had to pick the most tolerable of the rotation, it was the cream-colored one. The texture was off-putting, but the flavor gave the illusion of it being made from the stock of an animal that was actually meant to be eaten.

At least the red slop wasn’t the worst of the bunch— that title went to the green kind. So what if it bubbled in a disquieting way when Marius placed the bowl on his tray? He could always eat with his eyes closed.

He was glad to have them open for the moment when he scanned the room and spotted Kazimir sitting at the end of a gray table. There were other tables with open spots, ones with more people at them, but obviously Marius was going to sit with Kazimir. That was how the two of them worked.

Marius moved to sit across from him, flashing him a faint, if slightly tired, smile as he set down his spoon and bowl.

“Good morning, evening, or whatever it is by now,” he greeted Kazimir, poking experimentally at the slop with his spoon.

"I'm thinking of calling it between-ing," Kazimir said. "Or before-ning."

He took a big scoop of much and chewed it down, numb to the gummy texture by now, no matter how many times he complained about it. As he worked on munching, he pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Marius.

He looked even more tired than normal.

"You look like shit," Kazimir said through chews.

Marius let out a huff of tame laughter, dropping his gaze briefly to the bowl before looking back at Kazimir. Was that true? He had no way of knowing-- it had been a while since he'd last looked in a mirror. Maybe the dark circles were back. Or maybe they weren't and Kazimir could just tell these things by now.

He shrugged, taking his first bite of the slop. Pretty terrible. Just like how he remembered it.

"More so than usual, you mean?" Marius asked.

Kazimir hummed, and pointed his spoon at Marius’s face.

“Yeah,” he said. “You look sick. Maybe the last slop did you in.”

Rhea sighed at the slop dumped into her bowl and shook her head in disappointment, looking up at the cyborg that served it to her. “Stew again, E-17?” She asked the cyborg in a slightly exasperated voice. Calling it stew was an insult to stew, but she decided being polite (albeit very strained) was the right thing to do when it came to the cafeteria food.

E-17’s big, round, black eye in the center of its pure white metal plate that made up its “face” whirred as it stared at her. “Yes, Rhea Serrawenter. For Mealtime 2, you will be served tea, chicken, and potatoes.” It listed the foods in that mindlessly kind voice the cyborgs were programmed to use, and Rhea’s demeanor drooped into something melancholic as she saw that the cyborg that had been her friend had been reprogrammed again.

“Thanks, E-17,” she muttered, picking up her tray and keeping her eyes trained on the lumps in the stew that definitely wasn’t chicken.

“Anytime you need the meal list, Rhea Serrawenter, I am always here,” E-17 said, its voice echoing off of the walls. Rhea flicked a piece of a red gummy substance off of the otherwise pristine-looking gray countertop, giving the cyborg a smile.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good rest of your day.”

E-17 said nothing else to her after that, already occupied with the next criminal.

Rhea pursed her lips and scanned the cafeteria for a new place to occupy that wasn’t by the lunchline teasing her fellow criminals with E-17.

Her eyes landed on a relatively open table that seated two men, one looking intensely amicable (like herself) yet malnourished and the other looking like he would drive his spoon through the eye of anyone who was not the man sitting by him. Naturally, Rhea walked over to them, grinning, and plunked her tray down.

“Hello, boys. Enjoying your slop?” She asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Kazimir had been content with his bowl and his friend for the minute they’d had together. But then, this shaggy kid showed up. Kazimir stared at the blonde-haired girl and her not-quite-human eyes, trying to remember where he saw her last. He wasn’t sure if he liked her tone, but wasn’t she the girl always trying to chat up the staff? No. She would chat up anybody, now that he thought about it. She was one of them yappers.

Hmph. Nothing good came out of befriending the guards. If they started friendly, they never stayed friendly.

Kazimir huffed. He couldn’t remember her name.

“Who’re you?” he asked as his grip around the neck of his spoon tightened.

Rhea noticed the tightening of the grumpy man's grip on his spoon but chose to ignore it.

She continued to smile pleasantly at the man, saying, "I'm Rhea. You're Kazimir, right?" before sliding a spoonful of slop into her mouth while maintaining eye contact. She subtly closed up her taste buds so she didn't gag at the taste as she chewed it soundlessly.

Moirai quietly walked over to retrive her food, wrinkling her nose slightly at the sight of it. The prison food was not at all close to her liking but at least it was something. Any sort of nourishment for her mind was better then no nourishment at all. Even if it was red and tasted like chicken despite having no resemblence to the actual food whatsoever. Her guess was artificial flavoring.

She glanced around the room to find a table for herself. There were others sitting, and talking with each other. Anyone else with a scrap of extrovertedness would have likely joined them, a bit of enjoyment to bide their time in the prison.

Eclipse however, was not fond of social interaction. Instead she prefered to sit and watch and wait. Silently judging each and every person from her lone table across the room. and so that was exactly what she did. She sat, and watched, and waited, and silently judged each person.

All information only went to one place, her information for an escape plan that she was slowly collecting and filing away. Each person could be a valuable asset if used right. She would not let a single pawn slip through her fingers unused. She had done that once and that was what had landed her here.

She picked up a small bite of the food and swallowed. She didn't bother chewing it since the texture made her gag but just swallowing it had no effect she had found so it was certainly the much better option. It wasn't like she was running her mouth and spilling her mind to anyone either so she could take all the time she needed eating her food.

Watching, waiting, and silently judging; Plotting her escape.

Hmm. Kazimir was giving Rhea one of those hard stares that Marius knew meant he was contemplating starting a fight. There was a time and place for those, but a cordial greeting from a new face didn't seem like the best reason for that. Marius didn't want them putting Kazimir back in solitary confinement again-- he never knew when he'd be getting him back.

"That's the man himself," Marius confirmed politely, before Kazimir could mutter something hostile. "I'm Marius. It's nice to meet you, although I wouldn't say we're enjoying the slop. That's too strong of a word."

Kazimir huffed and twitched his head to the side, releasing a pop in his neck. He scooped another spoonful of slop and took a bite instead of saying more. Marius had this, then. Good. He was always better with the nosy ones.

Rhea laughed at Marius's statement. "You're making me glad that I turned off my taste buds when I got here," she said wryly.

Caught off-guard in the middle of a bite, Marius frowned in curious confusion, turning to Rhea. He could tell that she probably wasn't fully human, but he hadn't been expecting to hear that. Definitely not with such casualness. He wondered how that worked-- if it was a willful activation, like the flipping of a switch, or maybe an automatic trigger in response to a bad taste.

"You can do that?" Marius asked, intrigued. "That sounds useful here."

Acacius had never even seen such an ugly yellow color, and now they were forced to wear it. How dreadful. Not to mention that everything in this prison was about ten times heavier than what they were used to. Just walking around was making them work up a sweat.

Ace stood in line to receive their first prison meal. They were appalled by what was put on their plate. What on Kavegari is that?

Another prisoner pushed Ace out of the way after they'd stared at their plate in disgust for a good seven-and-a-half seconds, so they shook their head and moved along. Well, so far, they rated their prison experience a negative zero out of ten. They would have to remember that next time they did something illegal.

Ace scanned the lunchroom. It wasn't long before they caught sight of their fellow Kavi, glaring them down with a vengeance. Ace was quick to turn away. They shuttered when they felt glares stabbing into their back. Best to avoid them for...eternity, if Ace could.

Hmm, options options. Ace needed people. If they didn't want their assassin group to relentlessly torment them for their sentence, they would need people to stick around with.

Ace spotted a few empty seats. They spotted a girl sitting by herself. Ace almost walked toward her, but she looked just as scary as the rest of the Kavi they were trying to avoid. Maybe they should find people who wouldn't kill them at first glance.

Ace nearly jumped out of their awful yellow jumpsuit when they saw three Kavi stalking toward them out of the corner of their eye. Find someone, find someone.

There! A group of three, mostly secluded from the rest of the lunchroom. Besides, if no one was bothering them, people must think highly of them...or something like that. Ace made a beeline toward the group, slamming their tray on the table and plopping down next to the blonde one.

"What are the chances of getting killed in prison?" they asked quickly, glancing over their shoulder. At least the Kavi were only glaring at Ace now, instead of advancing toward them. That seemed to be a good sign!