ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴘ ғᴏᴜɴᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (
thescpfoundation) wrote in
scp_30082022-04-08 11:30 am
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APRIL 2022 SCP DIVERGENCE MEME: ROUND ONE KICKOFF
ᴛʜᴇ sᴄᴘ ғᴏᴜɴᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴇᴍᴇ
a recurring horror-comedy meme with optional continuity
PREMISE
The SCP Foundation is a fictional organization featured in an archive of short horror stories about strange or terrifying places, objects, and creatures. Knowledge of the SCP foundation is not required to enjoy this meme.
SCP Divergence is a meme/TDM/game hybrid, intended to take the best aspects of each and put them together. It will have the consistency of a game, the prompts of a TDM, and the freedom of a meme. There is a fixed setting, but new posts will have updated options and/or a light, optional ongoing plot that you can choose to engage with as much or as little as you want.
This meme is designed to give you the foundation to carry CR over like a typical game if you want to, but it's entirely up to you. Pick and choose your continuity, retcon your characters into the setting, play your hardcore AUs, your doubles, and your location-native OCs. Burn the whole game down in one-off threads and pretend it never happened at next month's luncheon prompt. Participate in the first meme, disappear for six months, and pick back up again as though no time has passed and your character never left. The world is your oyster.
warnings : violence, death, psychological horror
SETTING INFORMATION

Perhaps you were walking through a real Ikea, or skateboarding through the halls of your spaceship. Perhaps you were taking a moonlit stroll through Narnia, or your TARDIS abruptly crash-landed. Maybe you were sleeping, or maybe you died. Whatever the case, where you are is almost certainly not where you were. It very much resembles the interior of your standard Ikea store, until you try to find the exit. No matter how much walking you do, the space seems to stretch on and on. It's believed that SCP-3008 may be infinite, eventually branching off into an endless series of backrooms.
Don't worry (much), you aren't alone. People have been wandering into SCP-3008 and getting lost for decades. New generations have been born here, and have never seen the world outside. Some residents swear their friends or family lived a life outside of SCP-3008, but when questioned these people are convinced they have always lived in this liminal Ikea. Over the course of your search for an exit, you may stumble upon one of the few small settlements formed by these survivors.
Perimeter walls or barriers have been constructed out of repurposed desks or kitchen fixtures. Residences have been crafted out of bedroom furniture displays. Communal showers have been erected by the public restrooms. Markets and inter-settlement trade routes have been established. People barter goods or services in exchange for crafts made from available furniture and resources, or one of the strange objects found during exploration. The Ikea restaurants are regularly restocked with the store's standard menu. Nobody is quite sure how or when, because it only happens when no one is watching. Food and water is (somewhat) regularly replenished, though there have been incidents where weeks have passed without new supplies, leading to rationing, dehydration, starvation, or death. The lights have a timed schedule, creating a rudimentary day/night cycle. It's certainly a less than ideal retirement location, but generally speaking, it's not that bad.
At least, if it weren't for The Staff - also known as SCP-3008-2.
Apart from minor variations, The Staff all look the same: roughly seven feet tall, no discernible face, unsettlingly long limbs, and disproportionately large hands, wearing the traditional Ikea employee uniform. During the day, The Staff are docile and largely unresponsive. They're infrequently sighted meandering through the store, and are only hostile if harmed.
Night is a different story. Once the lights turn off for the evening, The Staff changes. Any D-Class they discover will be immediately engaged upon. They will speak, but only say one thing: t̶h̴e̵ ̷s̸t̶o̵r̶e̷ ̴i̴s̶ ̶n̷o̵w̵ ̷c̵l̵o̵s̶e̶d̷,̶ ̶p̸l̴e̷a̵s̸e̸ ̶e̸x̵i̴t̶ ̷t̸h̷e̵ ̸b̴u̷i̸l̵d̷i̶n̷g̷.
They do not intend to escort anyone to the door. If caught, victims have had limbs maimed or necks snapped in seconds with seemingly little effort. The Staff occasionally cluster in groups, especially when they happen upon a settlement. Survivors are regularly forced to fend off nighttime attacks, and can now generally do so with very few casualties. Any remaining body parts of fallen Staff members must be disposed of promptly. The presence of limbs or corpses tends to lead to higher Staff numbers and increasingly higher aggression the following night.
*hover zalgo text for easier reading
NETWORK USAGE

Although D-Class may be able to access the internet, content only seems to flow in rather than out. Personnel have been able to access YouTube & Wikipedia, but attempts to post comments or send messages have failed. For those who may be arriving without phones, cheap prepaid phones can be found in the electronics sections.
Personnel will find that an app has managed to install itself on their phone, tablet, or medieval magic mirror. Inside the app are a series of labelled icons.
D-Class Forum – Allows users to make public, social media style posts available to anyone with the app.
D-Class Directory – Most of the time, the names of survivors stranded in SCP-3008 will show up on this list. There are standard options like calling, texting, group messages, and video chats.
New Personnel Archives – Assumed to have been compiled and maintained by D-Class personnel. It contains basic information about the setting and other typical game mechanics.
SCP Directory – A short list of archive entries that offer details about possible detected, known SCPs within range. Beneath it is a very long, greyed-out list of locked entries that seem to be inaccessible.
Research Submissions – A place for personnel to document new information about SCPs they find to submit to the Foundation.
ANNOUNCEMENT

@THE SCP FOUNDATION
Greetings, new D-Class personnel. We at the Foundation are aware of your current predicament and are doing everything within our power to return you to your point of origin. At this time, rescue attempts have been unsuccessful. Please remain patient as we investigate this issue.
Note that any reports of containment breaches are inaccurate. Rest assured, per the official statement of the O5 Council, the Foundation remains in full control of all previously contained anomalies.
We are aware of new and duplicate anomalies appearing within SCP-3008, and information about these anomalies may prove useful for your rescue. Consequently, temporary D-Class employment status has been applied to all new arrivals. Known details about nearby detected anomalies will be made available in the SCP Directory archives. Any new research and documentation submitted by D-Class personnel will be rewarded via Matter Delivery Pod.
Thank you for your cooperation.
ANOMALIES

THE FOLLOWING SCP ARCHIVES ARE CURRENTLY AVAILABLE TO D-CLASS PERSONNEL:
SCP-294 — "THE COFFEE MACHINE"
ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴄʟᴀss: EUCLID
ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs: Item SCP-294 appears to be a standard coffee vending machine, the only noticeable difference being an entry touchpad with buttons corresponding to an English QWERTY keyboard. Upon depositing fifty cents US currency into the coin slot, the user is prompted to enter the name of any liquid using the touchpad. Upon doing so, a standard 12-ounce paper drinking cup is placed and the liquid indicated is poured.
ɴᴏᴛᴇᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ ɪɴᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛs: On August 21, 2005, Agent Joseph ██████ attempted to use Item SCP-294 to obtain coffee during his allotted break time at 9:30 AM. at the request of Agent █████ █████████ "to see what it would do", ██████ requested "a cup of Joe" from the item. Moments after confirming the selection, Agent Joseph ██████ began to sweat profusely and complained of dizziness before collapsing. After moving the unconscious agent to the infirmary, the medical team recovered the contents of the cup dispensed by Item SCP-294: a combination of blood, tissue, and other bodily fluids. Testing revealed the DNA sequence of the biological material dispensed by SCP-294 matched that of Agent ██████.
SCP-131 — "EYE PODS"
ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴄʟᴀss: SAFE
ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs: SCP-131-A and SCP-131-B (affectionately nicknamed the "Eye Pods" by personnel) are a pair of teardrop-shaped creatures roughly 30 cm in height, with a single blue eye in the middle of their bodies. SCP-131-A is burnt orange in color while SCP-131-B is mustard yellow. At the base of each creature is a wheel-like protrusion which allows for locomotion, suggesting that the creatures may be biomechanical in origin. The subjects can move surprisingly fast, covering over 60 m (200 ft) in a matter of seconds. The subjects, however, lack a braking system, which has led to some rather spectacular, if not overly amusing, mishaps involving the creatures.
The subjects seem to have the intelligence of common house cats and are insatiably curious. Most of the time they simply roll around the facility, observing personnel at work and catching peeks at other Safe class SCPs. The subjects seem to be able to communicate with each other via an untranslatable high-pitched babbling. The subjects have never been observed to blink, even in laboratories when the subjects have been videotaped for over 18 consecutive hours.
The subjects seem to respond well to any affection given to them and will quickly bond to the giver of said affection, much in the same way a puppy bonds with a human being. They will follow anyone or anything they've made a bond with anywhere, even into normally restricted areas. Although curious, the subjects can sense danger in their general vicinity, and if the object of their bond begins to approach something they register as dangerous (e.g., Euclid or Keter class objects) they will swarm around their bonded companion's feet (or appropriate extremities) while babbling in a panicked tone, as if to warn them.
SCP-3288 — "THE ARISTOCRATS"
ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴄʟᴀss: KETER
ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs: SCP-3288 designates a highly predatory species or subspecies of the genus Homo (Homo anthropophagus). SCP-3288 display a number of abnormal characteristics and behaviors that distinguish them from the baseline species. The most common deviations include:
- Acute hyperdontia and macrodontia; an instance of SCP-3288 has teeth approximately six times the size of normal adult teeth with more than sixty teeth unevenly distributed over six distinct rows, requiring jaws much larger than that of baseline humans
- Gross mandibular prognathism
- Fluctuating facial asymmetry
- Dolichostenomelia of the arms; an instance of SCP-3288 commonly has arms more than twice the length of a baseline human of similar height
- Arachnodactyly and polydactyly
- Kyphosis
- Abnormal muscle strength despite having the appearance of severe emaciation
- Albinism
- Superior low-light vision and heterochromia iridum (specifically complete heterochromia); the eyes are notably reflective and their colors range from blue, red, purple, and yellow
- A reliance on both bipedal and quadrupedal locomotion
- Abnormally rapid physical growth and development; this results in a 2 to 3 week gestation period with sexual maturity being reached within 16 to 20 months
- Gottschall-Gärtner syndrome, primarily manifesting on the hands and fingers
- Alopecia universalis
- Acute photophobia; direct exposure to sunlight will result in both physical and psychological damage
- Mental instability primarily characterized by delusions of grandeur and malignant narcissism
- An addiction to human flesh that takes on biological and psychological components
*lesser known medical terminology contains hover-text with a brief description
SCP-504 — "BAD JOKE TOMATOES"
ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴄʟᴀss: SAFE
ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs:SCP-504 is a species of tomato physically and genetically identical to that of the typical commercially-grown tomato. When a poor attempt at humor is made verbally within human hearing range of SCP-504's tomatoes, they instantly accelerate to a speed of at least 100 miles per hour (approx. 160 kilometers per hour, 45 meters per second) in the direction of the sound's source. SCP-504 tomatoes seem to reach speeds relative to the inciting attempt at humor. Relevant variables seem to include corniness, humor-to-length ratio, and use of puns. Language appears irrelevant.
ᴛᴇsᴛ ʀᴇsᴜʟᴛ ʟᴏɢs:
Item: One mature SCP-504 tomato
Subject: D-504-1
Spoken: "Is a hippopotamus a hippopotamus or just a really cool opotamous?"
Result: No change in velocity.
Item: One mature SCP-504 tomato
Subject: D-504-1
Spoken: "What's an archeologist? Someone whose career is in ruins."
Result: Tomato clocked at 124 mph. Subject suffered a broken nose.
REWARDS

Examples of Matter Delivery rewards:
- a seemingly unbreakable dining fork
- photos of loved ones from home nobody remembers taking
- bottles of prescription painkillers or other substances
- Captain America's shield
- a loaded gun
- live carnivorous squirrels
- Blu-ray copies of Spider-Man 3
- a big red button with no description or instructions
No information on how these rewards are decided upon or produced has been given so far. The Foundation social media account will not respond to inquiries.
RESOURCES & NOTES

The purpose behind this experimental format is to give players freedom to have fun in any way they like. Please feel free to conform to the setting mechanics as much or as little as suits your threads. Continuity errors can be easily written off as anomalies – your best friend dying or your grand, successful escape could be completely reverted for next round's meme. Ignore it entirely, or allow your characters to experience the psychological horror of being stuck in a supernatural looping limbo.
I am currently accepting feedback on this post. If it contains too much information or too little, if the format was legible and easy to consume, or if you have ideas for alternate mechanics & delivery methods, please leave me a message here. I may not respond to all comments, depending on my availability. New round memes will be posted approximately every month – but this is extremely flexible. Feel free to subscribe to the community to be notified of new posts, which will also be linked on
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Below are some helpful links. It is not necessary for you to read these to begin playing.
What is the SCP foundation? The SCP Foundation wiki Feedback & issue reporting | Featured SCP & plot suggestions Volunteer to contribute Where did you get the frog? |
D-CLASS FORUM
@THE SCP FOUNDATION
Note that any reports of containment breaches are inaccurate. Rest assured, per the official statement of the O5 Council, the Foundation remains in full control of all previously contained anomalies.
We are aware of new and duplicate anomalies appearing within SCP-3008, and information about these anomalies may prove useful for your rescue. Consequently, temporary D-Class employment status has been applied to all new arrivals. Known details about nearby detected anomalies will be made available in the SCP Directory archives. Any new research and documentation submitted by D-Class personnel will be rewarded via Matter Delivery Pod.
Thank you for your cooperation.
@JesseFaden
Please also be aware that if you encounter anyone in the store floating and chanting in odd sentences, you should get away from them immediately and contact me. I can help with that, at least.
@LowkeyUnimpressed
As for your odd chanting, I mean, I've been known to float around chanting what you people might think are odd sentences. Nonsense, even. But that's just who I am as a
person.
Do these floaty chanty people have anything to do with the lunatics running around the halls demanding we leave because the store is closed? Or are they another fun group of nutters?
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@AarthurJAardvark
Signed, Your Friendly Neighbourhood Aardvark.
@JesseFaden
Let me guess, your friend tried to get you both out of here and it didn't work?
@themayqueen
I don't know where I am. I mean, I'm here, obviously. In this... place. This store? But I don't remember getting here. Or coming here.
All I know is that it was summer, and I was in Sweden.
I can't seem to find any windows, or any doors.
If anyone else is out there, can you tell me where we are?
@JesseFaden
I don't have a map of this place yet, or I'd give you a location. It'd be good to meet up. Check inside the tents if you find them, though. I've ended up there a couple times.
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QUESTIONS
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Julian Bashir | Star Trek: DS9
Tea Time
It's Getting Late...
[OOC: Or, WILDCARD! Feel free to find him anywhere, wandering about, being a dork. Or if you're hurt, feel free to have your character find him. He'll do what he can with the equipment he has on him!
Also, feel free to flip to Prose. I just used brackets because most prefer them!]
Arrival
Starfleet?
[He hasn't noticed her yet and she doesn't lower her phaser when her voice breaks through the silence.]
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It's Getting Late...
But as she looks him up and down, she notices he seems injured. Her stance relaxes, even when the weird creature comes into view behind him. She tries for a smile and only manages not to grimace. ]
Hi, I'm Jesse. Are you okay? What happened?
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Sorry for the delay!
No problem!
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Oh lord. I didn't preview that! Sorry about the TLDR!
pfft, nah. I love it. :3 Sorry for the wait!
No worries!
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I'm a dumbass. I thought I posted this! I'm so sorry!
Yay, you're back! And now I am, too.
tea time
It isn't the strangeness that's unnerving him, but the familiarity. The maze-like display rooms, the aisles, even the uniforms on the... beings that ambled around the space. It set him on edge in a way that wasn't entirely unlike being in a swamp with an unknown quantity of very well-hidden alligators. It has him wanting to reach for the gun hidden under his tweed jacket, or at the very least one of the throwing knives, but given how many voices he's heard in the distance, he'd rather not risk scaring (or shooting) anyone who isn't a threat.
He's following one of the lumbering Staff members when movement and a voice catch his attention. A human (or human-looking, he silently adds to himself) man in what looks like some kind of uniform asks him something, and he almost has to ask him to repeat himself. It takes Alex what feels like minutes for him, but is probably a second or two at best to shift his focus, trying not to show too much of his cautious relief at finding someone else who seems to be in the same situation. ]
Huh? I mean, not that one, but I've used them- oh, wait-
[ He corrects himself mid-answer on spotting the subtle differences between this machine and the ones he's used to finding in staff break rooms and lower-end hotel lobbies. He finds the report and reads it quickly enough, shaking his head to change his answer. ]
Huh. And I thought the theatre lobby soda machines were getting excessive.
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(I see what you did there and I immensely appreciated it)
(it may have been an rp bucket list item for this character)
(Glad I could help!)
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(I feel like I'm always apologising for Julian's... excitement.)
(Alex has the same enthusiasm, it's just almost hidden under the tweed, sarcasm and knives)
(They should get along beautifully!)
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Apologies for the delay! It's been a busy weekend!
It's cool, I was catching up on sleep and would've been slow too.
Sleep debt sucks something awful! I hope you got all caught up!
sorry, bit off more than I could chew and lost track of notifs
No worries! That happens to me more than I'd like to admit!
arcade gannon | fallout: new vegas | ota
coffee break.
the aristocrats.
Coffee Break
[Crowley waved his hand with a bit of a casual flourish in the direction of the gentleman. He may have just "convinced" a few of the caps in Arcade's pocket into believing that they were actually quarters. Funny how that's all it took to change something into something else. Make it believe it was that thing. And people say miracles are hard.]
You might give your caps a try. Couldn't hurt, I'd say. [If Arcade decided to reach into his pocket, he'd probably immediately notice the pair of unusual pieces of "pre-war" currency.]
It also looks like you might have a bit of an infestation. Have you always been the leader of the tiny cyclops squad?
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Mayor MacCready | Fallout
[ MacCready doesn't remember how long he's been here, all he knows is that it's too fuckin' long. Once he realized that this was a problem that wasn't going to be solved anytime soon, he decided he would set up a small outpost to hunker down in.
He picked out a display that seemed to be mimicking a living room and kitchen — it was weird for him to see everything so...clean. Set up how he imagined the world looked before the bombs fell. He grabbed whatever big furniture he could drag on his own and set up a barricade so that the area is fully closed off, save for one spot where he would come in and out. He also set up a makeshift ladder out of tables and chairs that reach the florescent lights overhead, where he is currently sitting and taking in his surroundings. It's a very precarious ladder, but being as light as he is he isn't at much risk of knocking it down if he's careful.
Out front, there's a sign he made out of poster board and sharpies that he found, which reads: No mungos. Big people fuck off.
He added little doodles of skulls and crossbones.
If anyone gets too close to the entrance, they'll hear him from his little light-watch tower. Should they look up, they'll see a small child in army gear that's a bit too big pointing a sniper rifle right at them. ]
Hey asshole, you're too close. Back off or I'll blow your fuckin' head off.
[ However, if you're a kid or don't look like an adult, his warning will be less threatening. ]
This spot's taken! Get your own.
b
[ During one of his little expeditions to see if there was an end to this place, MacCready loses track of time and ends up walking around after hours. Once the lights go off, MacCready activates the flashlight he taped onto his rifle. Then he hears it.
"t̶h̴e̵ ̷s̸t̶o̵r̶e̷ ̴i̴s̶ ̶n̷o̵w̵ ̷c̵l̵o̵s̶e̶d̷,̶ ̶p̸l̴e̷a̵s̸e̸ ̶e̸x̵i̴t̶ ̷t̸h̷e̵ ̸b̴u̷i̸l̵d̷i̶n̷g̷."
Should someone happen upon MacCready, they will find him firing at an employee's head. Then another. Then — where the fuck are they coming from? ]
Fuckin' things!
[ At this rate he'll run out of ammo. But he's kind of getting boxed in as more come from every direction. ]
c
[ Wildcard! Feel free to make shit up, I'm 100% open. MacCready is a bit, uh, trigger happy, so if provoked enough he will definitely not hesitate to shoot, just an FYI. He's the worst. Prose or brackets are fine by me, no preference!]
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Oh. That sign wasn't just for the Hulk? Go figure. I did not know a little guy like me qualified as a "mungo".
[There is a sniper pointed at his head and he's yet to hold his hands up in surrender. There's a reason for that, but he's a cryptic godling that doesn't often make much sense at face value.]
So, are you going to just hide up there until you starve to death, or will you eventually come down to the convenient little buffet that seems to inhabit all Ikea stores for nourishment at some point? Because I do not think starving atop your wobbly kingdom is a good idea. Just saying.
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A.
The suit he's wearing has a pod attached to the front of it, with what looks to be (and is) a baby inside it, floating happily in the nutritional fluid the pod provides. Well, happily until she notices a gun pointed at them. Then she starts wailing as hard as her little lungs will let her, the sound piercing.]
I got my own spot. I was just passing through. No harm meant.
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Ganta Igarashi | Deadman Wonderland
BASTAAAARDS!!
[ The screaming's coming from a teenager - a kid, really, short and slight even by middle school standards. It's not clear who he thinks he's addressing, apparently not even to him, because he's whipping his head from side to side while he yells, like he thinks his captors might materialize out of the walls. And to be fair, who's to say they won't? There are obviously no rules anymore. ]
I've been doing all that sick crap you want from me! I'm DONE with your insane mind games! LET ME OUTTA HERE!
[ It's possibly important that said angry kid is wearing a prison jumpsuit, and also a big metal collar around his neck. Heck of a fashion statement. Anyway, come say hi? ]
b - settling in
[ Okay, you know what, it's fine. No one knows how they got here or who runs this place or if they have a chance in hell of ever getting out. It's fine. Extremely fine. ]
Heh. I guess I didn't think it was possible to wind up somewhere more hopeless than I was before.
[ Ganta perches awkwardly in a POÄNG armchair, nursing a coffee from the weirdly bottomless-seeming vending machine. At least that's one thing this new place has going for it. Cheap coffee.
A moment later, realizing he's maybe being weird, he musters a smile and turns to whoever's sitting next to him in their current makeshift camp. ]
Sorry, just... just thinking out loud. Where're you from?
c - wildcard
[ You can PM me if there's something else you want to do, or just comment and I'll roll with it!! ]
a
She follows the yelling and freezes for a moment when she comes across the kid. That neck collar? That's very not okay. She rushes up to him and bites her lip. ]
Okay, don't know where you came from- or where we are, really, other than some hell dimension Ikea- but I'll try to help you, okay? But we should probably be quiet if there is some evil mastermind, just in case they need to find us to do...things...
[ Fred wears a nice blouse and skirt combination, and she's already broken the modest heels off of her dress shoes. She looks agitated, but it's more worry for the teen in front of her than everything around her. ]
My name's Fred. Who're you?
Jack Townsend | Tales from the Gas Station
Big Red Button
Big Red Button
Er, waiting. Waiting to see if the bubble pops.
It's not like he's been ignoring his impulses. As best he can tell, if the Universe has any meaningful influence in this place at all, it's telling to spend absolutely all his time sitting in this room waiting for something interesting to happen. He defies it for bathroom breaks and showers and because he's indescribably bored, but always and forever, he winds up back here.
And then, miraculously, something interesting does happen.
And it's a Big. Red. Button.
And he's being asked about it.
Existential despair eat your heart out, this? Is great.]
Oh! Well.
[He pushes his chair out with a loud scrape and wanders over, leaning forward with brows furrowed to examine the... thingy. No two ways about it, that is a thingy. Unequivocally.]
See, now, generally, in my experience, people find themselves confronted with one of these button thingies, very often big, almost always red, and they assume -- rightly or wrongly -- that if you press it it's going to do something sinister and awful like kill you or blow the building up and kill all of us or set off some kind of... button alarm that sets some manner of heavily-armed paramilitary anti-button-pressing team honing in on your position to take you to jail.
[He says all of this quite seriously and sympathetically, gesticulating and glancing between the button and Jack as he rambles.]
Personally, and I am always telling people this, I think it could be anything. Maybe it'll fill this room with hamsters. Maybe it's the button you press when you want to have a great day. Oh! Maybe this is the get out of here button and if you press it we'll all get to go home!
[The only reason he doesn't reach out to slam that sucker right now is there's a Todd in his head telling him not to. Shaking his head, doing absolutely fucking not eyes. With the brows, and all.]
It is a bit cliché though, isn't it?
[There's open disapproval and distaste in his voice, like the biggest fault here is a bad fashion choice and not the fact that this is a Big Red Button, with all the threat implicit in that.]
red button
They're shitty cardboard tasting health cookies but what're you gonna do. ]
Maybe it's a detonator! [ Naturally, Jerry sounds way too enthusiastic at the possibility. ] Completely independently of that first thought — we should press it.
[ Just making that clear he does not want to press it because it may be a detonator! But the possibility also won't stop him. ]
Big Red Button
[Sam's at least gotten out of his BRIDGES issued delivery suit, now that he's sure the environment isn't totally threatening, leaving him in a tanktop and cargo pants. The short sleeves of his shirt show off the dozens of overlapping what look to be handprints covering his shoulders and arms.
He sighs and moves his tray over to the kid's table, in case he decides to do something stupid. Like press the button.]
Leave it alone. Or better yet, chuck it.