[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Let The Game Begin! - open

[Ratchet]

Week Three

Day One

9:00 pm

“There.”

He leaned back from where he was kneeling on the floor, peering up at the screen attached to the wall in the rec room. On the TV, the image was static, a light blue in color, of what looked like a triangle, each side was a different primary color: red, blue and yellow. Next to him on the floor, were three items, each more strange than the last.

Hanging down from the back of this television set – quite large by human standards but more comfortable for Cybertronian optics, were several cables. They hung freely down, where they draped to the floor, running over the concrete flooring of the rec room, to end up attached to a smallish box, seated on a metallic box just below the television.

Any of the humans at the base, and the few Cybertronians that interacted with the children on a regular basis, would instantly recognize it for what it was – the gaming console. It’s usual place was out on the table in front of the couch where the children tended to congregate. It had been moved to this location.

And altered.

The top of the console had been taken off, it’s internals exposed. Next to this lay a single controller, unplugged.

Standing up, Ratchet now picked up an ungodly jumble of cables and wires that had been resting on the floor beside him.

The mess of wires he held in his hand was ugly. It consisted of several different colored cables and wires, soldered together into some sort of squid-like arrangement, seeming to branch off in one location, only to be rejoined in another. Copious amounts of duct tape was involved.

The cable seemed to narrow down as it moved towards one direction, growing thicker and heavier in the other. The smallest end had a simple plug attached, where it would end up being plugged into the console.

The other end was another squid-like terminal, bare copper and aluminum wires sticking out, waiting to be used in some manner.

His optics moved over the tentacles of wires, nodding to himself, before laying it back on the ground. The other item near his ped was now picked up and inspected.

Whatever it was now, it had started it’s life as four individual keyboards. Now the numbers had all been removed, the sensors exposed and covered with clear plastic to keep them clean. The four keyboards had been joined together by a mixture of melted plastic and duct tape, into one large rectangular item.

Four “buttons” - consisting of large wooden coasters - had been attached to the top of this creation, on the left side, in a diamond-like pattern. The buttons had been painted white, each one with a single symbol painted onto it: circle, square, triangle, and an X. If one were to lift this contraption and peer underneath the coasters, they could see a spiderweb-like arrangement of circuits running down through the circuits, attached to a small rubber pressure pad. On the right side of the item, a large plastic square, similar to that of a rubic’s cube, had been glued to the top. A hole had been drilled through this, and a heavy metal rod installed in the center. A large rubber dog’s ball had been squished down on top. The hole in the center of the square, and the middle of the rod, was covered in circuitry as well.

A few smaller, other “buttons” had been added here and there, and now, he thought that maybe it was complete.

Anyone looking at it would be able to tell what it was supposed to look like – a horrible, confused, ugly attempt at a console controller.

He stood in the middle of the rec room, holding the Frankenstein thing in his hands, slowly looking it over, his gaze moving from it, to the real one on the crate top, and back.

[Quillion]

As Ratchet looked over his handiwork, his reverie might have been disrupted by the sudden presence of a small feline-shaped cassette laying on top of one of the crates, watching the mech with an expression of bored intrigue as he fiddled with wires and parts.   The creature made a noise at him, a staticky interrogative that begged an explanation as to what Ratchet might have been up to.

Before he could answer, though, Epee swiveled her head over toward the room's door just as a tall, graceful mech of blue and copper construction came strolling through.  "Oh, there you are, Epee.  We need-- oh, hello.  I don't think we've met yet.  You must be Ratchet, yes?  Quillion, at your service."

Quillion cast his glance around the room and at Ratchet's handiwork.  He raised a brow ridge curiously at the contraption before he realized what the device was.  The fencer was a mech made for friendly competition -- it was only eons of war that made the competition increasingly unfriendly.  "I say, is that a tactile hand-eye coordination tactical simulator?"

[Ratchet]

Ratchet hadn’t even been aware Epee was in the room, so involved in creating the Frankenstein-console controller had he been. When the small feline creature made it’s noise, he turned suddenly, startled to find it seated there. How long had it been there, just watching him? While he couldn’t deny it was rather cute looking, the thought it had been there, silently watching him, was somewhat creepy.

He had been about to speak to it, when it’s attention turned towards the door way, and he turned himself, following it’s gaze, just in time to see another mech enter the room.

This wasn’t one of the ones he had met already, he recognized that right away. Over the last little while, several of the Autobots had come to the medibay, or met him outside, to see how he was doing, ask if there was anything he needed. Patch introduced them all to him, but he couldn’t help noticing how some of them reacted to his being introduced. While some seemed gently bemused, it was clearly upsetting to others. He found himself wanting to apologize.

Now, looking at the entering mech, he had been wondering if this was going to be another of those uncomfortable, awkward moments. It all dissipated, however, when he spoke.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. You must be Ratchet, yes?”

Ratchet was suddenly filled with a sense of relief. Someone new, that had no previous memories of him, a meeting on completely equal footing.

When the other – Quillion – spoke again, asking about his creation, he couldn’t help but smile.

Turning back towards the massive and ugly thing in his hand, he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “If by that you mean something called a “game controller”, then yes. I saw the human children playing with something similar earlier, and found it curious. When I overheard someone say they wished they could play the same games as the children, I wondered why no one had already made one. So I gathered up what I could find and....”

He motioned towards the technological monstrosity perched in his hand, “Here it is. I think. I haven’t had a chance to try it out yet. I was hoping someone would come by...”

[Quillion]

"So it is a simulator.  I knew it.  I would be delighted to give it a shot, sport.  Consider me your test subject." 

Quillion gave the mech a friendly clap on the shoulder and picked up one of the control devices, turning it over in his slender fingers. For her part, Epee began sniffing around Rachet's console curiously, the feline momentarily interested for what would inevitably be the briefest of intervals.

"So, how does it work, then?  Is it a direct neural interface, or does it project a virtual holo-environment around us?"

Quillion smiled, excited by the prospect. He liked games -- he was made for them, and it wasn't a pastime he got to engage in very often given that most of his current playmates usually tried to kill him or his cat.

[Ratchet]

Ratchet smiled when Quillion so readily agreed to try out the gaming creation he had cobbled together. He had actually been expecting the other mech to show no interest. And while Ratchet could have just played the game himself to see if it worked, it wouldn’t be an accurate trial, he felt. As the creator, he might overlook things others would consider a handicap. He found himself oddly excited for Quillion to try out something he had made – a donation to Omega that might make things a little better for the others there.

Afterall, everyone needed to have fun now and then! You needed to have fun, to relax, to enjoy things!

The other mech’s questions, however, deflated him a small amount.

“Well...no. From what I’ve been gathering, human technology is extremely primitive. I mean, I’ve only really started working with it...er...” he faltered, awkwardly, “what I can remember, I mean.”

He shook his head, pushing on, “But I’ve been able to grasp it already. The hard part is trying to get theirs and ours to talk to each other without hiccups. So...this part-” here Ratchet pointed to the created controller, “sends signals to that box-” here, a point to the console sitting on the nearby table – “which sends images to that monitor there.” A point to the large flat screen TV mounted on the wall.

“You’re basically just watching a 2D representation of things, and using the controller there to have your avatar on the screen interact with the environment. It’s....it’s very primitive....but it could still be fun.”

Had Bumblebee been anywhere near the room, watching and listening to Ratchet talk and motion to his creation, he likely would have been struck by the similarities to Raf, when the youth was talking excitedly about a new project he was working on, or talking away a mile a minute about how he had managed to get Cybertronian tech and Earth tech to work together in a coded program he had created himself.

[Quillion]

Quillion smiled, letting the comment about Ratchet's apparent memory issues go unaddressed for the moment.  He turned the controller over in his fingers a few time, nothing the button configuration.  "So,  this is based on a human design?  It seems to be built for a hand with digits as opposed to claws or other manipulators."

Epee, meanwhile, had gotten bored examining Ratchet's makeshift console and had moved onto her third-favorite activity -- weaving through the legs of a much larger Cybertronian than her; in this case, Ratchet.  As her plates made contact with the mech's lower legs, small sparks were discharged, a sensation that caused the cat cassette to emit a satisfied staticky tone.  

Quillion finally had the controller seated in his hands in what seemed to be the optimal configuration for accessing all the device's controls.  "I must say, well done on the construction.  It feels quite solid, and not likely to fall apart in the hands of some of our more robust brethren.  So!  What kind of scenario will you have me dealing with on the monitor today?"

[Ratchet]

Ratchet watched as Quillion turned the controller over in his hands, inspecting it. He experienced a brief sense of panic, as if the entire thing was suddenly going to fall into pieces, small components raining down to the floor of the rec room with a musical clatter.

“Ah, yes. I wasn’t sure if it would even work at all, to be honest, and decided I’d just stick to the most basic of digits. No sense in planning on expanding any features if the simplest version doesn’t hold up.”

He had been about to add that he wasn’t even sure if any of the Cybertronians at the base had claws or anything other than digits, when the oddest sensation seemed to sweep around his lower leg.

The sensation of sparks lightly crackling down by his peds caused a weird, almost tingling sensation that ran up his legs and skittered along his spinal strut, causing his plating to give almost a faint ruffling in response. Had Ratchet been a human, he would have said it had given him goosebumps.

Quickly looking down, his optics settling on Epee, he gave a faint laugh, not quite sure just what she was doing. The small creature seemed far too content to be attacking – in fact, it seemed downright pleased at what it was doing. And considering Quillion didn’t seem too concerned, he guessed whatever it was doing, it was harmless.

The other mech’s question drew him back to the present, and he smiled at the approval.

For the first time since he had woken up on that moving vehicle, been chased by the smaller creatures, been rescued by others like him that remembered him but were strangers to him, and was now trying to find his way, feeling like a ghost...for the first time since all of that....Ratchet suddenly felt like he had done something right. He had done something to help others, even if it was just a game that the others could play to relax. He had contributed something back to this place.

That singular emotion almost caused him to balk for a moment, to trip over the next words he had been about to say. He swiftly moved forward towards where the console rested on the table – careful not to step on or kick Epee in the process.

“Oh, er...well. This game is...it’s something called Zombie Crush. Apparently you play as a human who’s being attacked by a group of Zombies...er...undead humans that can still move about.”

Ratchet scratched the back of his neck wryly as he continued to look at the console, “I watched the two human children play this a few days ago. They’re very adept at it, especially the older femm – female. Miko? She tends to move all over the couch as she’s playing.” He smiled.

Carefully, Ratchet reached down with a broad hand, and carefully used a single finger to lightly press the power button to the console. There was a whirring click as the disk inside started to move, and the monitor went black.

As Ratchet moved back towards Quillion, the screen changed to an image of a city street, rendered in somewhat realistic graphics. Suddenly, what looked like a bucketful of green blood seemed to ooze it’s way down over the screen, and the words ZOMBIE CRUSH floated up through the ooze, while overly dramatic music screeched from the speakers.

[Quillion]

Quillion wore a big grin as the entertainment's title came up on screen.  His orange optics narrowed with concentration as the game started up, and what he supposed was his controllable avatar came up on the screen.

The tall copper mech's long fingers then started flying over the inputs, marking how the avatar reacted to each button press:  This button made the character move up, this one made it move down, this button seemed to be an attack.  On the screen, a small pixelated figure, what seemed to be an dripping organic nightmare seemed to be approaching Quillion's avatar.  

"Aha!  My first foe, I presume?"  Quillion smiled and didn't wait for an answer before he moved his character over and dispatched the 'zombie' with what seemed to be a maneuver reminiscent of a Varaxian Skull Punch, or a Seventh Folding Circle technique.  Whatever it was, it was effective, as the creature exploded into pixelated viscera.  "First blood to me!"

Quillion laughed as he sent his avatar in search of fresh opponents!