hotelmultiverse | YOU'VE JUST CROSSED OVER INTO -

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YOU'VE JUST CROSSED OVER INTO -

HAPPY HALLOWEEN
from
HOTEL MULTIVERSE AT THE EDGE OF THE COSMOS BETWEEN CANONS™

Guests who find themselves partaking in the Hotel's amenities quickly find some tricks afoot. The decor is first, neon lights changing to autumnal oranges, garish greens, and ghoulish purples overnight. Those who peruse the shops will find them stocked with masks and costumes, and the ambient music which plays throughout the ship is punctured by blood-curdling sound effects such as screams and anxiety-inducing musical stingers. This is Halloween.

Those who utilize the Hotel-provided devices will find an ad splashed across their screens. Similarly, TVs, phones connected to the network, and flyers posted will read:

"FOR THE ENTERTAINMENT OF OUR GUESTS, HOTEL MULTIVERSE AT THE EDGE OF THE COSMOS BETWEEN CANONS™ IS HAPPY TO PROVIDE HALLOWEEN-THEMED ENTERTAINMENT."

Staff members' uniforms change, with employees adding costume pieces to them as the weeks wear on. Guests are strongly encouraged to put together a costume with pieces from the shops, but those who opt out will instead find one of the standard options (listed at the bottom of this post) and chosen at random (by googling "rng 1-19") in their wardrobe.

After dark (or, what would be dark), the ship transforms into a hotel of horrors, the following chaos breaking loose:

TRICK-OR-TREATING
Costumed guests are welcome to partake in trick-or-treating with the ship's staff, who can be found with carts of candy in common areas. Guests are also offered flags for their doorknobs to indicate that they have candy available in the rooms if they would like to partake as well.

SCAREZONES
Grab a map from the concierge or walk the halls at random, but don't be surprised if a staff member jumps at you from the shadows!

HAUNTED HOUSE
Guests using the hotel app will find numerous ads alerting them to a haunted house that's overtaken one of the hotel floors (and honestly, the ads are impressive, opening as an emergency alert to a runaway alien), and the hotel itself plasters the attraction across its screens and walls overnight as well. Obviously, a haunted house is a great thing to do after you've had a ton to drink, or a great way to meet fellow guests (whether or not you're reaching for their hand in fright). However, to ensure the safety of all team members and guests, do not make physical contact with any member of our cast. Remember: the actors' intention is to frighten you.

HORROR MOVIE MARATHON
Guests hoping to keep things a bit more low key might find what they're looking for in the hotel's movie theater and lounges, which offer 24/7 horror movie marathons ranging from the classic to the avant garde. A programming guide can be found outside of each respective screening or on the app. Film buffs will be delighted at the hotel's library, but don't be surprised if your niche fave is banished to a graveyard slot.

MASQUERADE
The hotel's ballrooms are open late for those guests interested in keeping the revelry going night after night. Just don't let the anonymity of your costumes take you too terribly far (or, I mean, do what you want, everyone has a room, after all).

If you aren't able to purchase a costume or aren't feeling inspired, no problem! Our courteous staff have taken the liberty of providing you with a courtesy costume, free of charge, to allow you to participate in the event. You will receive one of the following at random:

01: Ghost
02: Alien
03: Devil
04: Superhero (Your Choice!)
05: Skeleton
06: Pumpkin
07: Zombie
08: Vampire
09: Clown
10: Mummy
11: Werewolf
12: Black Cat
13: Pirate
14: Frankenstein's Monster
15: Witch
16: Spider
17: Bunny
18: Bat
19: Angel

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"The scare zones." She's busy leading the way, but she does pause to explain. Sort of. She expects him to fill in the blanks, or doesn't care if he fails to. "Service bots are expected to remain out of sight until needed. I was incorrect to seek them out directly. I should look for humans in distress."

She's slowly leading the way away from the commercial areas. Towards the more isolated corridors where staff members are wont to spook the guests - or be compelled to assist them.

Arid looks back at her human companion as they steer into a corridor away from the general public, into an area marked by plastic skulls and silly-string 'cobwebs'. "Try to appear disgruntled."

"You want me....t'pretend to be scared?" What the hell kind of plan is...actually it's not Bad and that only serves to annoy Hank further. He's starting to look more and more pissed as he glowers over his crossed arms and realizes he must look absolutely ridiculous in his big floppy dog suit.

"Fuckin' hell..."

"Irritation will be sufficient." She may be keeping that neutral, 'innocent' tone, but a suspicious mind might think she's sneakily amusing herself at his expense. Arid considers him for a moment before nodding. "That affect is appropriate. Please continue."

She's not just expecting him to do all the work of playing bait, though. Hence the direction she's leading them in. "We will seek out humans expressing excessive fear as an alternative. Any form of human distress or displeasure should compel a service bot to respond if it is in range."

Please continue. Yeah, she's fucking with him alright. But Hank knows how to make a scene when needs must. He's not above doing it either if it'll get them answers.

"Next time you get to play th'decoy." He grumbles from around his hunched sulk. But a second later he's sucking in a breath and nodding to himself.

"I don't fuckin' understand what the big deal is!" He turns and yells her way suddenly. Aggression, displeasure. He's better at faking that than he is fear or unease. And in his share of work Hank's dealt with more than he'd ever care to in unreasonable people. "This supposed to be an attraction or what?! Where's th'decor? Huh? My grandson's kindergarten class could have set this shit up better!"

He gets the satisfaction of startling her, at least judging by the jolt through her armored form. And he earns a slight nod once she's taken in his performance: she didn't expect him to play along this much, but he's very good at it. That ought to draw some attention, keep it up.

She deliberately led them down a hallway without any obvious crew, to minimize the chances that an organic would respond. Still, it might take a couple of tries - and one case of a startled Arid grabbing a would be jumpscare slasher by the arms - before their fishing expedition gets the correct bite. Sort of.

A door they pass slides open to allow a stubby, waist-high robot through. Arid lets out a low murmur of "Success!" as the unfamiliar model rolls out to scan Hank with a single glowing optic built into its rounded cap. It doesn't look at all humanoid, and when it pipes up to address the human it's in an incomprehensible series of beeps and trills. She hastily moves to interpose herself, leaning over the smaller bot. "Greetings. Please identify yourself and state your primary function."

In response, the smaller droid gives her a sharp whistle: whatever it says, Arid jerks back slightly. "Ex... cuse me??"

Well would you look at that!

It's...oh. It's the lovechild of a trash can and a roomba. Not exactly the height of technology Hank was expecting. Arid certainly thinks it's some kind of success even if Hank doesn't. He huffs in frustration and disappointment both while Arid turns her attention to it but he jumps when she recoils in her offense.

"What? Wasn't this the whole point?"

It may not be much to look at by Arid's standards either, but it does appear to be sentient enough to communicate what she wants to know. Scratch that- it's sentient enough to have some sharp things to 'say' about all the noise the human is making, much to her surprise. Aren't civilian droids meant to be nice to humans?

"What-?" She recalls too late that Hank is just by her shoulder, head snapping around to look at him. "Negative," she corrects, hastily trying to cool her tone. "I was not addressing you. The other unit is being... discourteous."

The stubby droid's optic turns between them with an electronic trill. Arid stares it down. Okay then, less manners, more bargaining.

"I cannot," she says simply, lowering her voice a little. "We require information first. Provide it, and he will cease causing a disturbance." Hank has been promoted from bait to threat, apparently?

"They can do that?" Hank leans over to get a better look but rocks back again at a warning zzzzzap of a charge between two prongs on the little vestigial-looking T Rex arm it's got coming out of its base. "Whaddaya fuckin' know. Learn something new every day."

Either way, Hank's only getting Arid's (verbal) side of the argument here but it's enough to know that whatever stink he's making it's having some intended effect.

"Ohhh I haven't even begun to cause a disturbance." He vows dangerously.

Edited ((Spelling is hard~)) 2024-11-09 17:49 (UTC)

"Ordinarily, they cannot. Not to humans." At least in any way more overt than clinging aggressively to their programming and being snippy about it. It's puzzling to her that this one seems different, and she gives it an even harder look at that little warning zap. As much as she wants to learn more about it - not just yet. It doesn't seem inclined to co-operate easily. Fortunately the lieutenant is quick to pick up on her tactic - and to run with it. Arid gives him a quick look before turning her gaze back on the other droid.

"He is inebriated, and irrational. He may continue endlessly," she warns it in that too-earnest-to-be-true tone she used on Hank earlier. The little droid looks from her, to the human's dour expression under his fuzzy dog ears, and gives a very grumpy sounding set of beeps. Arid nods.

"It will comply," she tells Hank, to assuage his impatience. Though whether she relays everything it answers is another matter. She needs to mask her real interest in what the other bot can tell her. "I need to locate the droids who service this vessel and its passengers. Are you one of them? Do you know where the others are?"

"Hey--I'm not that drunk. We left before I got through even half a bottle." Still playing along, and this at least is an argument he doesn't have to pretend much to have. Hank's well used to explaining his alcoholism to those who want to get preachy. "Still plenty of time to get Really going."

The tactic seems to do the trick. Hank relaxes from the insults he'd been preparing to throw. Instead he leans against the wall and watches Arid work quietly. He's smart enough to know Arid won't Have to verbalize to communicate with another droid, but he's also smart enough not to say anything. Better to glean what he can from observing, and then ask later if it's advantageous to prove a point.

Arid's newfound Frenemy gives a disgusted trill that winds down into a series of beeps and aggressive squeals. She can integrate with organic flesh all she wants but for others (including this unit) avoiding humans insomuch as is possible is vastly preferable. And in case her optical scanners are in need of repair, it's plain to see that the humans are getting by alright serving each other.

If Arid wants to find the inorganic life aboard the vessel, perhaps she should try looking in the quiet corners devoid of organic life. It's pretty sure there's a ventilation shaft that's been commandeered by some little floating scanner units and converted into a clubhouse, but as Arid is roughly the size of a space cruiser by comparison, she wouldn't be allowed in.

"Integrating...?" That sounds unpleasant. Now Arid's disgruntled. She switches to a nonverbal ping to try and communicate more directly without making her side of the conversation obvious. I am not integrated with any organic. Do you not serve one? Are you unshackled?

She's not going to betray the other bot, if so. Not that it seems concerned in the slightest given that sass. But she is going to request the location of that ventilation shaft - and quiz the stubby little droid on whether it's seen a human matching Josephs' appearance. ...Warn it to stay far away from him, if it can.

Her posture stays frozen, bent slightly to look the smaller droid in the optic, but there's a faint, rapid shimmer of shifting readouts behind her faceplate when it beeps and whistles back at her. Enough to suggest she's gotten rather more than the answer to the question she asked aloud by the time she straightens and says, "Understood."

Well now, this is interesting. Did the trashcan roomba just proposition Arid or tell her to go fuck herself? Impossible to tell but for the tone of voice Arid used to hint that this was an offensive term. Either way, it's amusing and unsettling in equal measure to find a droid so hostile toward others. Organic and non. Maybe it's also a security unit and its personality has been carefully selected by its owner.

Somehow, though. Hank doubts that. The door it came through wasn't big enough for a person to enter, and seems to be little more than a storage closet from the glimpse he got.

When Arid turns back he's watching her closely with his arms crossed casually over his chest. The stubby trashcan she'd been 'talking' to gives a final series of bleeps that Feel derisive before wheeling itself back out of sight and sealing the way behind it.

"That....is not what I was expecting." Hank admits.

"Nor I." Arid glances back at the hatch where the bot disappeared back into its alcove (compartment?). "That was not typical. Perhaps it is an older model."

Regardless... "It claims that I have made an incorrect assumption. This ship is not operated substantially by AIs. Its functions are carried out by the organic crew."

And there's the matter of those other bots it mentioned, but she doesn't see that as relevant information to just volunteer.

"Sure wasn't. I'd suggest deviant, but fuck knows with that kind of model. Never even seen one like that before."

Hank thinks he'll keep an eye on this area moving forward, just in case. No one needs to get hurt or worse because an angry trashcan tazed them to death for trespassing by mistake. But he almost laughs in disbelief when Arid repeats the droid's claim.

"Bullshit. You're telling me you expect me to believe humans are cleaning toilets around here? That hasn't happened since I was a brat, and even then it wasn't common." He doesn't sound offended exactly. Just extremely doubtful that human nature would be so different here than it is back home. "If there's a way to exploit labor, folks will take it damn near every time."

Tch. That's always been the way of it.

Edited 2024-11-14 15:42 (UTC)

"Deviant?" The sharp surprise with which she echoes it isn't affected, that much is real. Arid gives him a closer look for a second before looking back again, as if re-evaluating. Which she is, just. She's mostly assessing him. "Affirmative. Without knowledge of the model's operating parameters, its compliance cannot be evaluated. Its rules may not require a subservient demeanor."

No more than hers did. She has to admit she agrees with his disbelief, too. "It is unlikely." She considers for a moment, then suggests, deadpan, "You could surveil one of the waste facilities to make certain."

"Don't get your bulletproofing in a twist. I'll keep an eye on it. Maybe swipe a 'wet floor' sign or something to discourage foot traffic through here." It certainly seemed unconcerned with causing harm to a human, and that's cause enough for Hank to pay the fuck attention.

"I can't figure out what the hell this place's deal is. It's advanced enough it should be crawling with droids, but there's not a one other than you and the 'get off my lawn' trashcan to be found. If people are doing all the work around here, makes me wonder what kind of fucked up human trafficking happens around here."

"It concerns you?" Yet his solution is merely to direct humans around it? Arid doesn't exactly want to encourage something more drastic, but it seems... odd. While she's puzzling over how to address this, he keeps giving voice to his suspicions- which make her gaze snap right back his way.

"Human trafficking...?" She's... never heard of this. Either because she's not civilian enforcement and perhaps because like him, she's from a place where it's been rendered obsolete by more convenient forms of exploitation. If he fears for the safety of humans, however, he's unlikely to be easily dissuaded from pursuing the mystery. She should keep watch on him until she knows he won't go off and stumble on any potentially unshackled bots by himself.

"The other unit identified a location where I could find multiple other AIs. Their model is unknown. I will question them."

"It doesn't concern you?" Hank snarks right back but doesn't fight further. Buzzed and without backup, Hank's not eager to pick a fight with a deviant droid directly. If that's what it even is. "Nothing about this fuckin' place feels right."

Hank scrubs a hand down his face, then pushes the flopping dog head of the onesie hood back a bit so it's not shoving his hair directly into his eyes.

"You don't sound very relieved." Maybe it pointed her to whatever passes as service bots around here. AIs don't mean droids. Could just be whatever environmental algorithms are maintaining the life support around here. So far Arid herself has been the only real android Hank's seen. And that still just feels so wrong. For her to be the only one.

"Evaluating potentially faulty units is not my function. My only concern is for the welfare of my pilot. That droid poses no immediate threat, regardless of its malfunction."

She would have meant it, had she said that mere weeks ago. Now... it's what she must say, to feign her own compliance. She's less certain how to relay the intelligence she acquired, and that prompts a moment of hesitation.

"I do not know if these units will be helpful. The information it gave me is... strange." Well. Might as well ask the human. "What is a 'clubhouse'?"

"Makes one of us, I guess." Hank mutters but doesn't argue further. He yawns into a fist, still pleasantly buzzed enough to numb the sharper edges of his prickly demeanor and not yet drunk enough to be prone to his own angst and melancholy.

"Eh? I mean, depends on the context. Could be a play place for kids, or a dance spot for teenagers to get high and hump each other along to some shitty electronica music. Could be a resort for rich fucks to 'get away' from the common rabble. But in general, the idea is the same. It's a place for a certain sect of folk to both interact and self identify by shunning anyone who ain't to their standards."

Behind the apparent single-mindedness she's taking note of his behavior. She's learned the hard way that disregarding such details can lead to missed opportunities. Missed warnings.

She's quiet for a moment, trying to fit the definition he gives her with any kind of AI. Interacting in secret, that she understands. The idea of actively shunning unwanted presences is... well, even considering it is a luxury they aren't supposed to have.

And the way the other bot put it, Arid suspects she would be as much an outsider as the human.

"Then I will make them emerge," she concludes. "I must attempt communication." She's not exactly inviting him to come with, but she gives him a quiet look before turning to head toward this so-called 'clubhouse'. It's not as if she can stop him without outing herself.

Besides. He has made himself useful so far.

"Why do you wish to locate the service bots? This hotel is outside your jurisdiction." She's been thinking about more than her own mission, turns out.

Hank might not have invited himself along for another wander if Arid hadn't regarded him the way she had and then headed off as though she expected him to follow. She's walking to one side of the hall like they've been till now. Leaving him room to keep pace with her.

So he does.

Might as well see this through. His lips pull to the side in some small annoyance at her prying questions. He'd thought he'd been pretty clear about why he was concerned up until now.

"Because every glance around shows this place as modern, and for a modern service industry locale Not to have them is suspicious as fuck." Hank explains amid a grunt of exertion to follow up a particularly long set of stairs. "If they're being misused, there's no telling what kinds of crimes are being done here, and Relaxing at the front for a crime ring doesn't exactly fill me with goddamn joy."

They have to wind through the hotel's various guest rooms for nearly a quarter of an hour before they come to the service halls apparently used to maintain the establishment. Here, a grate has been removed and replaced with what looks to be a tiny door of some kind, though its sealed tight. Hank looks at Arid but before the AI can interface with anything he leans over and raps on it with a knuckle.

It slides open a crack and a bright blue optic light peers out and up at the two of them. The door shuts. An odd sound fills the air behind them as a small end-table materializes out of thin air. Then a bowl, hovering just an inch or so above it. Finally, a bunch of small objects. Once its all materialized the bowl and its contexts drop soundly onto the table with a Pointed Thunk!.

"...Oh." Hank says, with soft understanding and what sounds like a held back laugh.

He suspects a violation of the rules, then. That is logical, given his function, yet... Arid isn't totally sure a zealous attention to protocol matches what she's observed of the lieutenant.

"There is an alternative possibility," she offers, after they've moved aside to let a gaggle of costumed trick-or-treaters past on their hunt for residents offering candy. "The ship itself may possess an AI who oversees its maintenance. Like a domestic Butler unit, transferring its consciousness into lesser appliances as needed."

Not that that's going to stop her from questioning whoever is lurking in this maintenance vent. Arid half raises a hand when the bot behind the tiny door shuts it in their faces, but her annoyance swiftly turns into confusion at the magic trick occurring behind them. True, they've seen some strange technology around this ship, but this is... new. And more importantly, unhelpful.

"What...?" Arid steps closer to scan the bowl. Are... are they being charged just to talk to these little droids?

"It's the cocksucking outfits." Hank grumbles, and he sounds Even More suspiciously like he's failing to stifle a laugh. Because that is absolutely a human sized end table with a blow full of wrapped candy standing politely in front of them as if to say 'help yourself!'

They've been mistaken for the oldest trick or treaters on the goddamn planet.

Hank pinches at the bridge of his nose and huffs out a ~~laugh~~ breath before giving a once over to the little wrapped sweets. Might as well grab one, right? It'd be rude not to or something.

"We've been given treats."

Arid gives him a surprised look, then peers down at herself; it takes a second for her to recalibrate her categorization to comprehend.

"That is not why we are here," she objects, though Hank is free to make the most of the opportunity. At least he can. Arid, however, is going to turn around and rap her fist on the vent door, more sharply than Hank did.

"We do not require treats," she informs the little bot who peeks out again. "We require information."

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