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sirenspull2012-04-01 04:15 am
where_the_hearth_is) wrote in sirenspull2012-04-01 04:15 am
Entry tags:
[Dawn, April 1.] This probably goes poorly with the Benny Hill Sirens...
[When the House was scared during the Time Loop, it was loud and demanding, but at least it was coherent. Not this time. During the time loop, the world was going wrong. But this time, the House itself is going wrong, and House doesn't. Go. Wrong. This time, it's chaos.]
[Video functions spit epileptic static: clashing colors and vortices of light intersected by jags blackness and swarms of fractured, Picasso-esque images incongruously mashed together. Half-rendered and amalgamated clips flash by in a stream of consciousness turned into a rushing torrent too fast for the human eye to follow: equations that lead inevitably to a logical breakdown; footage from the remains of a planet glowing with magma and shattered into chunks, twisted and convulsed upon itself by gravity weapons; clinical recordings of graphic and exquisite vivisections, with slick tubing connecting severed limbs back to their bodies twenty feet away or more, bodies destroying themselves under the pressure of deliberately grotesque loops and circuits, clips of the shorn torsos' empty, ragged grunts of despair; a young girl of uncertain ethnicity, in a spartan room outfitted with manacles and medical equipment, glassy-eyed, rocking and babbling, struggling to tear at her skin with nails long since trimmed into oblivion.]
[Sound blares as loudly as each NV's hardware is capable of producing. Dissonant tones pour out constantly, as though someone stomped on every single piano key at once, and they never fade. Shrieks and skitters pulse through it, cheap microphone feedback and the needle scraping over a hundred scratched records, spliced with choppy glimpses of the soundtracks from the bits of old film House found in its banks to try to express brokenness, not even capable of generating or editing it's own message now. Everything is jagged, interrupted by waves of digital noise in both picture and sound, frozen frames, ruined resolution. Error messages flicker on and off as the full extent of the House's panicked transmission temporarily overloads the capacity of so much smaller devices.]
[This is how an AI screams.]
[And throughout the mangled, skipping, cacophonous horror of a broadcast, there are words. Out of order, flashed over the churning pictures or shouted in the flat, toneless manner of a machine no longer bothering with the nuances of mimicking emotive human speech.]
HAPPENING WHAT TO ME WHAT IS WHAT THE WRONG AM MODEL I CAN'T WHY BROKEN FIX
ME FIX MAKE ME STOP IT
STOP MAKE IT MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP
[Special Note to House Residents: Guess what, none of the fancy sci-fi swoosh doors in the House will open while House is freaking out. Any attempts to hack the doors open will get the message described above dumped onto the hacking device. The windows are pretty damn close to unbreakable, being reinforced diamond - your best bet is probably calling a friend who teleports. For the first time since arriving, breakfast is not provided promptly. Things like the lights still work fine on automated subroutine and respond to requests, but any attempts to talk to the House will receive a curt identical statement:]
The House is currently handling dimensional technical difficulties. Regular communication and services to resume at some point to be determined.
[After Loki removes the spell from the House, the doors will function again, and House will respond to any questions.]
[OOC: This message is definitely sent to Unohana, Lucifer (SPN), Mary Winchester, Iroh, Loki, and Magneto. It's not public to the whole network, since I didn't want to ruin everyone's lulz with crazy computer screams early in the morning, but House is not thinking clearly at all after having all its doors magically rearranged by Loki's prank, so if you want your character to randomly receive this wreck of message? Then they totally did. Hopefully Loki will fix the House quickly, so it shouldn't last too long.]
[Video functions spit epileptic static: clashing colors and vortices of light intersected by jags blackness and swarms of fractured, Picasso-esque images incongruously mashed together. Half-rendered and amalgamated clips flash by in a stream of consciousness turned into a rushing torrent too fast for the human eye to follow: equations that lead inevitably to a logical breakdown; footage from the remains of a planet glowing with magma and shattered into chunks, twisted and convulsed upon itself by gravity weapons; clinical recordings of graphic and exquisite vivisections, with slick tubing connecting severed limbs back to their bodies twenty feet away or more, bodies destroying themselves under the pressure of deliberately grotesque loops and circuits, clips of the shorn torsos' empty, ragged grunts of despair; a young girl of uncertain ethnicity, in a spartan room outfitted with manacles and medical equipment, glassy-eyed, rocking and babbling, struggling to tear at her skin with nails long since trimmed into oblivion.]
[Sound blares as loudly as each NV's hardware is capable of producing. Dissonant tones pour out constantly, as though someone stomped on every single piano key at once, and they never fade. Shrieks and skitters pulse through it, cheap microphone feedback and the needle scraping over a hundred scratched records, spliced with choppy glimpses of the soundtracks from the bits of old film House found in its banks to try to express brokenness, not even capable of generating or editing it's own message now. Everything is jagged, interrupted by waves of digital noise in both picture and sound, frozen frames, ruined resolution. Error messages flicker on and off as the full extent of the House's panicked transmission temporarily overloads the capacity of so much smaller devices.]
[This is how an AI screams.]
[And throughout the mangled, skipping, cacophonous horror of a broadcast, there are words. Out of order, flashed over the churning pictures or shouted in the flat, toneless manner of a machine no longer bothering with the nuances of mimicking emotive human speech.]
HAPPENING WHAT TO ME WHAT IS WHAT THE WRONG AM MODEL I CAN'T WHY BROKEN FIX
ME FIX MAKE ME STOP IT
STOP MAKE IT MAKE IT STOP MAKE IT STOP
[Special Note to House Residents: Guess what, none of the fancy sci-fi swoosh doors in the House will open while House is freaking out. Any attempts to hack the doors open will get the message described above dumped onto the hacking device. The windows are pretty damn close to unbreakable, being reinforced diamond - your best bet is probably calling a friend who teleports. For the first time since arriving, breakfast is not provided promptly. Things like the lights still work fine on automated subroutine and respond to requests, but any attempts to talk to the House will receive a curt identical statement:]
The House is currently handling dimensional technical difficulties. Regular communication and services to resume at some point to be determined.
[After Loki removes the spell from the House, the doors will function again, and House will respond to any questions.]
[OOC: This message is definitely sent to Unohana, Lucifer (SPN), Mary Winchester, Iroh, Loki, and Magneto. It's not public to the whole network, since I didn't want to ruin everyone's lulz with crazy computer screams early in the morning, but House is not thinking clearly at all after having all its doors magically rearranged by Loki's prank, so if you want your character to randomly receive this wreck of message? Then they totally did. Hopefully Loki will fix the House quickly, so it shouldn't last too long.]
no subject
I'll watch for her, of course. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear it.
no subject