GRIDLINED

OOC ANNOUNCEMENT: THE GAME HAS CHANGED

2011-01-25T02:37:57Z

Well, moved might be more appropriate. It's not changing much.

All right, everyone, here's the deal. Since our mod here has disappeared and the game is on moderated membership, that means that no new players can get in. Not good, right? So, we're MOVING!

It's not a huge change, really. The new comm is at grid_lined, and has an OOC comm at grid_lined_ooc. So, head on over there, join up, and start playing!

From here on, all new threads need to be posted at grid_lined.

Obviously, old threads can continue here to their conclusion, or you may move/repost anything to continue them. Any posts here can be linked in the new comm as well for continuity.

Please direct any questions to me or survivethesiren, the mods of the new comm!

All Around the World is Waking

2011-01-21T21:30:53Z

Black against black. Besides an occasional spark of lightening high up within the clouds that blanketed what went for the Grid's sky, nothing pierced through the darkness that expanded out in front of Gem. Even her own suit's lighting could do very little against the darkness here at the edge of the Sea of Simulation.

Gem had been wandering, attempting to clear her head, to try and make sense of the past cycles. But she wasn't quite sure why she found herself here, kneeling at the black waters. In the older days, before her reboot, Gem couldn't actually remember a time that she had ever come to the Sea. Or perhaps she had, but she simply did not remember--the information lost when she was Derezzed.

What the Siren did remember, however, was how important this place had been to The Creator. To the Isos. Here was where Flynn's miracle had sprung forth--those children not touched by his own hand; those he thought were the key to everything he had looked for. To Clu, they were a symbol of imperfection. To Gem? The Isos were a symbol of her own flaws...and how the Creator had failed her.

Shifting forward gracefully, Gem placed one gloved hand down on the ground, reaching out a hand to dip into the black waters. Perhaps it was a foolish move--but the virus that poisoned the sea was only supposed to effect Iso's, right?

Immediately she could feel the water particles cling to her fingers, pressing against the material of her suit. Frowning slightly, Gem pulled her hand out, watching the black water become thicker, spreading out against the circuits of her suit, as if testing it. It felt like something foreign trying to hack in, to pull apart her bits...but as quickly as she felt it, the black stopped spreading, and the feeling receeded. It was clear, though, that the suit was now ruined.

As Gem stared at her hand, watching her lights slowly start to glow through the black, she only could think two things.

Why had it all gone wrong? And were they fools for even thinking they could repair the damage done?

[ooc: Open to everyone! Jump on in...the water's just a *tiny* bit poisoned :)]

Announcement to the Grid

2011-01-18T07:33:37Z

I have decided that I will be taking over management of the Games. I will be returning them to their original purpose from our Creator. They will be a place for Programs to practice their skills with no fear of deresolution, and a place for entertainment for all Programs who wish to observe.

I will be participating in the Games myself, but also overseeing to ensure that the new rules are followed. Failed combatants will never be derezzed. Anyone wishing to join the Games is welcome, and I will help to train new programs in proper techniques.

That is all.

[Tron can be found at the Game Arena after making this announcement over the Grid. He hopes he's doing the right thing. This is one step in a positive direction, at least...?]

[[OOC: Slight warning for vaguely adult-ish content in thread with Gem. IDK what you'd even consider that. o_o]]

Joining the bandwagon!

2011-01-17T13:19:19Z

I thought I was going to have more internet access this past week--so as a result, I kinda...wasn't around to tag at all. I'll be picking them up again soon, but sorry for droppin the ball there for a while!

~Linds

at night the stars put on a show for free

2011-01-17T07:10:47Z

Who: Jazz and Ram
What: Time out from all the drama.
When: New Grid, pre-Legacy
Where: Somewhere on the Grid
Warning: AU from all the other AUness Ram's been involved in so far. ~~Man, how many different continuities has he got going now..... XD~~

It had been a few millicycles since Ram's visit to End of Line. That had been a nice diversion from his usual habits; between the music and the company, he had been looking forward to finding the time to go back, though it had been a little worrying to see Clu's system monitor stalking through to talk to the host. He was just glad he'd left End of Line after talking to Jazz, and Rinzler hadn't seemed to pay him any notice.

He'd just turned the corner across from the club's lift when the doors opened and a familiar red-headed program stepped out.

Because Dilly Did It...

2011-01-15T00:14:37Z

Formal appology here, from me.
Not only for my disappearance, but for the likelihood I will remain fairly uninvolved until January 28th.
Why?
Because 1) sick user is sick...like...really, I want to know wtf this is because it's ridiculous
and 2) School. Sucks.
I won't go into other things, but...I'm your only angry red sausage face :c
So I guess you'll have to go without?

Is that healthy?

But yeah, I'm sorry if in the upcoming weeks I'm slow to tag, especially if I'm slower than a_perfect_system!clu, Ram, and Sark...combined
which I will be.

~~LOVE YOU GUYS_{especially sark}~~

where the mun apologizes.

2011-01-14T07:24:32Z

_{-_-;;;;;;;;;;

There's totally infinite possibilities of excuses I could make, buuuuuuut. I'm not going to make them. I *am*, however, going to say this:

I'M SORRY.

Sorry that I left you all hanging & sorry that I haven't been the dillypickle you may have been wanting/needing. It's *FANTASTIC* (seriously) to see another here!

but rly, sorry bout dropping the ball (REAL LYFE has been pretty rough lately) but I hope you'll still keep me.}

xx, Dilly's Mun.

Hello, world.

2011-01-11T21:09:35Z

In the midst of some dead and forgotten sector, a small and painfully insignificant fraction of the Grid's immense and streamlined surface flickers to life - a faint, fleeting outburst of an old memory remnant; a flash of some archaic and complex circuity, hot and unruly with change and progression.

Slowly, an electric haze forms above the decrepit, flickering partition - its vague shape only lasting for a mere few moments before it is overshadowed by the formation of a sharp, precise, and complex grid within its unnatural mists.

As the maze of scarlet below the ghostly visage finally begins to shine consistently, it just as soon begins to burn with a white-hot ferocity; its ancient channels feeding molten data into the fragile wire-frame - and in sharp, calculated bursts, the wire-frame gradually begins to burn into existence, and solidify.

And as the floor quietly fades back to a sleek, lifeless, and uniform black, Sark's body seizes violently in spite of the abandoned tranquility that surrounds it. His back arching in absolute unbearable agony, and his mouth agape in a silent scream, a single fragmented fact blares through his corrupted mind; Tron had overcome him, on that mesa.

Tron had destroyed his disk. Tron had split him in two. Tron had split his head in two, and his code was spilling - his senses were spilling - his existence was spilling - his power had spilt and the MCP---

And Sark 'breathes.' His framework still trembling, and broken remnant coding spilling from his lips as to better accompany the metallic whirring that he exhales, it occurs to him that there are the most curious of lights within this darkness of death, and that he can see them. And that he can process the complex sensations they give to him. And that he can hear faint echos--

Willing himself as still as he can manage, he forces his body to move according to his desires. Maneuvering his decimated form into utilizing a near-by wall, Sark sits against it, and slides himself up; his back pressed firmly against the smooth, reflective surface. He had no disk.

His frame still twitching and jerking erratically in uncontrollable spats and his eyes still fluttering in arbitrary directions, managing to stand with the entirety of his weight supported by the wall is no victory to him; but Sark moves on from his jumbled feelings to giving his dim, bizarre, and unfamiliar surroundings the best assessment he can muster in his exhausted state - a lackadaisical skim.

And almost as if to ask the the ethereal polished blacks and heavenly whites and blues in his broken and garbled desperation, he wheezes out another horrific, metallic rattle.

"W͘-hh͟h̡hhh-à-̷a-͞a͞-a̵-̨t̴-̀--

Wh̵͖̝̠̟̠̦̠h̬̩͎̙͞h͚̭̪͕̝̞͘ͅ-̯̭̳͡a̴-̹̖a̬̭̻͎-̤a̛͕̘̺̮̭͈̱-̘̩̖͍̼t̥͓̼͉͓ ̥̘̗̥͟ͅi̛̙̱͈͈͕̥s̮͚-̝-҉̥-̖͉͖̗̼̭͜i̵̯̼̭̻̥͚̤s҉̣̹̭̮͇̹̲-҉̳̼-̳-̵̱̭i̞͔̟s̖̻͔ͅ-͔̠̩̯̥̞-̗̦̝͓̗̖͠-̠͖͍̣͇̣̕"

~~Freakin' zombies, man.~~

[OOC: hello first post how are you today. you're looking kind of purple and schmaltzy and- OH THE RUN-ON SENTENCES AND THE NIGHTMARE FUEL WHAT KIND OF FIRST POST IS THIS AHHHHHHH

Err, also, I truly have no idea what I am doing, so please feel more then free to jump on any face-palm worthy characterization like a starving tiger. :V

Edit: Also, I recommend viewing this with Firefox. Because I just realized the dialogue garble I've opted to use doesn't show up in Internet Explorer, and it not being there makes everything. Sort of wacky. Hurk.]

I’ve done everything as you say

2011-01-05T07:57:10Z

Who: Alan1 and YOU.
What: In his search for Flynn, Alan has stumbled his way into the Grid. Whoops.
When: The post is written to be maybe a year or two after Flynn’s disappearance, but timeskipping is totally okay too. He’s too confused to know the difference.
Where: Wherever YOU are
-----
It had been weeks since anyone had heard anything, but even in the last visit, Alan had barely been able to keep up with the words flying at, past, and around him at 900 miles an hour. He’d change everything—science, medicine, religion—with some mysterious secret that he’d cracked. He was on the verge of something great, and then—nothing. He’d just vanished without so much as a thank you and goodbye.

Flynn wouldn’t have left all of that. He wouldn’t have left Sam behind. And no one believed him.

The arcade hadn’t changed much, except for the sheets of plastic covering every game, and it was the first place that he could think of to look. It had never made much sense that Flynn had kept this place running when he was the CEO, but in the end, it didn’t matter all that much whether he did or didn’t. He kept up with Encom just fine, and there was no point in fixing something that wasn’t broken.

Finding that office of his wasn’t that difficult, even (the name of that game still made him smile and shake his head), but he hadn’t really been prepared for what he’d found. The computer equipment wasn’t all that surprising, but the laser that he’d thought they’d given up on long ago sat behind the desk, aimed ominously at the chair. That confused him. There wasn’t any reason for it to be there, and in working condition no less.

That set off all of the alarms in his mind and, still confused, he moved over to the desk and sat down, hoping that Flynn had kept some file that would tell him what all this was about, but not really expecting anything to make sense.

A flash of light later, and he was still sitting in the office, but something was very wrong. It seemed…different. Darker. He stood and left the building without stopping to look at his surroundings, and he found himself outside in a different place, standing in front of a strange-yet-familiar building. It looked like the arcade, only more than just the old neon sign glowed. This wasn’t where he had been only seconds before. Though how he had gotten there was—

—the laser. It worked, even as unexpected as this was. A city?

“What is this? Where am I?”

((I felt like prose, feel free to tag however you'd like. Obviously, this is an AU-type post, but people wanted it, so here it finally is. Feel free to timejump and all that \o ))

~You're going to love what is burning right in front of you~

2011-01-04T00:21:04Z

Gem was bored.

It was a typical feeling for her lately, as much as she was loath to admit it. What was there to be interested in? Yes, occasionally she met a program with a bit of spark, of fire in the caverns below the Colosseum. But what was the point of even showing interest? Rinzler always finished them off. Leader's little program, always ruining her fun.

Walking into the End of Line, she nodded once to the guards there, heading towards the back. There were many she knew here, yes, but even as they tried to catch her eye, she ignored them for now. It wouldn't make them any less interested in her...in fact she knew quite well it would only make them want her more. Let them. As the head of the Sirens, Gem knew her craft well; she could turn her head, bat an eye, and have programs falling at her feet if she wanted. But that was the problem--what was the challenge in any of it?

Ordering a drink, she sat down in corner on one of the elevated platforms, allowing her to watch everyone come and go, mix and mingle. All the while keeping her apart from them. If they wanted to talk to her--if they wanted a piece, they'd have to come to Gem, first.

The game is on, she thought, Let us see who plays.

[ooc: Everyone is welcome, Action or prose is fine. It's my first time here, so be gentle! ;_;]

system restore (open)

2011-01-01T23:51:38Z

It was a good year.

The year before everything--no, he just designated it The Year Before, the last full roll of the system calendar when everything had moved on schedule, when all deployments were robust and full-featured, when everything tricky shook out in beta and bugs were rare, easily stamped out by coordinated, efficient action between key programs.

Everyone did their part. And it was perfect.

Privately--too often just before downcycling into sleep mode--Clu thought it was his best year.

1/1/86.

If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

Retro New Year on the Grid! People from all timelines totally welcome! It doesn't affect anything if you don't want it to; it's an arbitrary system clock reset that doesn't affect "real" time or events. Be excellent to each other~

You start to sense you're slowly becoming someone else

2011-01-01T04:05:33Z

Who: Ram and Rinzler
When: A few days after this.
Where: End of Line?
What: After a fews days everything seems to go back to normal. And then--there he is again.

Time off from his priority functions was rare for Rinzler, and when he got it he usually spent the time alone running internal diagnostics or defragmentation routines to clear up his processors. Any other spare time was spent offline to refresh his runtime.

So finding him wandering around the Grid without a hunt to guide his steps was a very, very rare sight indeed. Programs steered clear of him and aimed their curious looks at his back after he was well down the street before warily going back to their own business. The Monitor paid little attention to any of it. He felt restless as he walked idly down the Grid's streets. Wandering aimlessly was new to him, and it left the security program off-balance as he glanced from side to side. Searching, tracking, hunting--these were functions he understood and it was a strange feeling to the program not to be performing one of them.

Then it occurred to him that he wasn't wandering aimlessly. When it clicked that he was in fact searching for something everything seemed to settle within the red-circuited program. He calmed, relaxed even, and continued on his way, more assuredly now.

He was looking for a program that had started this unusual behavior in him in the first place. Searching for the actuarial program that had managed to catch and hold his attention in a capacity unrelated to the games or work. Unfortunately, the only place he knew where to look at such an unusual cycle was the End of Line. So that's where he headed.

You're in trouble now mister [closed]

2010-12-31T12:44:00Z

Who: Ram and Jazz
What: Running into each other again, and what were you doing Ram
When: After his thread with Rinzler in the club thread
Where: Just outside the club

Jazz stepped out of the elevator of her apartment building and looked up and down the street for a moment before adjusting her raincoat and starting down the sidewalk towards the club. Ever since Ram had left the club with Rinzler, she'd admittedly been worried. Anybody leaving willingly with him....well she really didn't want to consider what that meant.

What if he'd overheard the conversation she'd had with Ram? What if...?

No Jazz, no time to think about that, she thought. She had a job to do and she was not going to let worry eat at her today. If it happened, it happened, and if Ram had gotten taken to Clu she was going to find some way to bust him out.

-run these guys into your jetwalls-

2010-12-29T03:20:58Z

It's happened. Someone ratted you out; you were caught out of bounds; your functions are tasty enough to appropriate -- the red guards showed up and now you're in a holding cell outside what might well be the last fight of your runtime.

The guards jerk you roughly out of the holding area and march you on toward the arena. Is that a crowd you hear -- or just your nerves roaring in your ears? Will you survive? Maybe. Are you up to this? You'd better hope so.

Let the games begin.

[GAME POST. It had to happen, right? :D

Rules:
--Limit how many characters can be in your thread, including those watching or controlling the games. Otherwise things could get complicated. You can always beef it up with NPCs.

--One game per thread (continuing threads are allowed). Each game occupies its own continuity; if you derezz in one, it doesn't have to stop you from continuing in another.

--Dying: is allowed. Consider yourself backed up: dying here need not affect other activity in the sandbox. Derezzing others is allowed, BUT ONLY WITH THE OTHER'S PERMISSION.

--Want to end the game without having everyone on one side die? Make it a timed game, crash the game so everyones' lightcycles vanish or forcefields appear around them, stage an escape, or put the game on pause so the characters are herded away, to be replaced by others when the User up above presses play again. This is rp. Make something up.~

--Mixing timelines: is allowed if there's a plausible reason: i.e. your character is an earlier or later version of themselves.

--Users: can be conscripts IF there's a plausible reason; otherwise they're players up in the User world, who might have their own rivalries at stake here (Sam and Eddie, Alan and Kevin, I'm a-lookin' at you~).

--State which timeline you're at, the type of game, and, if wanted, a player limit in the subject heading starting your game thread.

--Wanna make a thread for your characters to play Neopets or something equally fluffy and harmless? GO RIGHT AHEAD. 8D

discussion to halp out on dilly!

2010-12-28T23:21:00Z

IF ANY & ALL KEVIN'S COULD HALP OUT, THAT'D BE FANTASTIC!

Purpose of this post is help build Ed's profile with you all's help/thoughts. I just figured you all have been so kind/loving so far that maybe you could help lil' ol' me out.

{ START POINT OF DISCUSSION }

Okay. So I have had this discussion w/the muns for Ram & MCP, but want to know what you all think.

In the beginning of LEGACY, I noticed there is various figurines that Kevin gives to Sam. There are also numerous other memorbilia that has to do with the TRON universe. *MY* brain is wondering the following:

Would Kevin let on about the characters but not be all "well, you know, TRON is really Alan & SARK is Ed Dillinger Sr." when giving away what he may have experienced? That is, to essentially say that rather admit OMG! THE GRID IS REALZ! but that forged it into something that would grasp people's attention? (ie, how charries in Alice in Wonderland adventures were based on people Lewis Carroll/Charles Dodgson knew)

and lastly. Do you all believe it's possible, should a coursed path where Ed works w/Sam, that he could help continue rebuilding/rebooting programs & such? I *have* had it where he has done some of that work (cough INADVERTEDLY rebooted MCP) but thoughts?

My plans are that he is a bit of a good/bad guy as Eds wants to change the world to where man+technology works as one (or at least where man isn't all IOWNYOU -EVIL LAUGH-) as well subjected into doing what MCP wants because, well... he's flawed & fell prey to helping out a Program that now holds his life on a pair of scales.

Feel free to leave comments as I would *love* to hear input & please, if I confuse you for what ever reason, tell me! xoxo

not like father, not like son

2010-12-26T07:06:45Z

01.01.00

The brand new age that would shame the technology of yesteryear had finally arrived; global celebrations occurring ever since the night before were slowing down now as Hawaii would be the last as usual. However, San Francisco was ending their hooplas, that is, aside from the lofty apartment of college student, the computer nerd, Ed Dillinger...Junior.

He was a freshman in college, miserable as hell but found content in the surfing pages of the Internet & his desk job at ENCOM. Oh sure, everyone sneered, hissed & even jeered when they saw him, but Eds took it anymore with a grain of salt. Christmas had not been spent with his parents as he told them a little lie that he was getting ready for next semester.

What he *was* doing was navigating through a simple operating program that the CEO of ENCOM had been willing to trust him with as long as (in his words) "you won't go down any deep, dark tunnels that you can't get back out of." Eddie wasn't too sure what it meant but didn't genuinely didn't care as his eyes were fixated upon the computer screen.

The system demo looked dated & in desperate need of updating, unless this was a test to show his mettle to Mr. Alan Bradley. "All right, you bloody git, let's have a go," he stated, his accent distinctly Brits like his father. Procuring a task directory, he began punching in random codes, hoping something, one way or another, would appear.

. . . GREETINGS, USER! NAME?

The ...hell? Eddie stared a moment until the message respun itself out. His fingers typed in the dreaded nickname 'DILLY' & pressed enter. Blue screens scrolled thru piles of information until landing at a main screen.

WELCOME, DILLY, TO THE GRID.

Oh, God. . . what had he done now, he thought, grabbing a cookie from the tin his parents had sent, gulping down tea. What indeed.

[make him welcome, won't you? MCP, don't attack him...not yet!]

You brought this on yourself.

2010-12-26T06:34:59Z

((OOC NOTE: ~~I think this is open?~~ Not anymore, it's getting confusing D:
Thank Ram for the idea

but I made the post
so this thread is mine...also, sorry, his muse is being finicky))

The movie was ended now. He had not appreciated their treatment of him at all, and his philosophy? An eye, and an arm, and a leg, for an eye. He was going to get it, too.

"Prepared to face your consequences, programs?"

_initializing visual matrix || accessing entertainment centre || online_

2010-12-24T04:15:36Z

Did you ever wonder.

Who wrote the programs. What the Users do in their world. Where Clu got his ideas. Why that one lightcycle looked different.

What a keyboard looked and sounded like in 1982.

How the two worlds first connected.

Who wrote the tanks.

Who kept the faith.

Who fights for the Users.

Did you?

Arrows of energy flare into the darkness, swiftly outlining a vast hall with a huge screen at one end. Seats and walkways are also outlined in various colors, allowing programs and users alike to find where they want to sit.

Hurry. The lights are dimming, and you probably already grabbed a snack and/or drink from the stand outside. The screen whirs, widens, lights up.

Whatever you wondered... you're about to find out.

_________________________
-links removed; post is unlocked now-

Maaaaaaaaaan this post is late. Plz forgive! ~~It's restricted to members because of the links, and,~~ especially considering how busy most people are this week, has no time limitations whatever.~ It's perfectly fine if threads go on for days.~ Feel free to sit wherever you want, elaborate on your surroundings, etc. And have fun as your characters watch the movie that started it all!

To reiterate:
--Threadjacking is AWESOME.
--Quoting the movie is AWESOME.
--Your character is as late or early as you want them to be.~
--That is a really big door.
--Have fun!

OPEN LOG: Tron by the Sea

2010-12-23T04:46:11Z

A lone Program sat by the Sea of Simulation, staring down at his hands. He'd pulled himself up onto the rocks what seemed like cycles ago, but hadn't been able to make himself move further since. What could be making him so reluctant to move?

Perhaps it was the wreckage of the portal across the sea...

"Flynn... I failed you in the end..." he murmured aloud.

[[OOC: All are welcome, time and place irrelevant. Perhaps the explosion in the portal opened up more possibilities? WHO KNOWS. GO WITH IT.]

[[ETA 12/25: I was going under the assumption that the entire System was destroyed at the end of the movie. Upon second viewing today, this does not appear to be the case... only the portal appears to be consumed in the explosion. You see it from the edge of the sea, which is well beyond the city. So... I will be answering tags with that in mind from now on.]]

gridlined @ 2010-12-22T19:51:00

2010-12-23T00:51:42Z

Quorra stood on a corner, with a somewhat crumpled map in her hand, and her eyes were wide as they peered about, trying to sort out where she was. The map had a spot circled in bright red ink, and she tapped it occasionally when she looked down, as if expecting it to reveal all its answers to her. But it didn't, because it was just a map.

"Maybe this way?" She asked herself as she turned around and took a few steps down one street before she stopped again, frowning. Another check of the map and she turned again, heading several feet in another direction before she once more stopped. "No...well, maybe...this was not so complicated before..."

She huffed and scrunched the map up between her hands in frustration, and then sighed and began carefully uncrumpling it, since she still needed it. Stupid map.

"How hard can it be to find one place?"

[ooc: Quorra can be wherever, she's looking for a library someone told her about...whether she's in the real world or the Grid is up for grabs. Whatever is easier. SO open. ]

gridlined @ 2010-12-22T09:33:00

2010-12-22T17:33:51Z

Each day began like the other. Wake up, have breakfast, read-at one point he would have found it..well...boring. There was nothing particularly exciting about it and he came by excitement honestly. He'd (once upon a time) loved excitement.

And it had brought him here. To silence. To peace (Suppose it's only natural..) He chuckled at himself, folding his hands and staring out across the wide landscape to the Grid.

The grid. A city (his city if you wanted to be harsh) was operational, gleaming and distant. He didn't think he'd miss it as much as today-of all days- (Shouldn't one mark the anniversary of one's arrival?).

Or perhaps that's just why he did.

[oh so very open.]

gridlined @ 2010-12-21T12:45:00

2010-12-21T20:45:32Z

I could get used to this....~~maybe....~~

gridlined @ 2010-12-19T01:28:00

2010-12-19T07:28:21Z

characters: Castor and anyone who might end up in the club.
setting: The End of Line Club
canon point: Post-ISO genocide, pre-TRON: legacy.

There are a few things that can be said about Zuse.

The same things cannot be said about Castor.

It's a balance that Zuse learned to live with very quickly. To be fair, the two identities are (for the most part) distinct, and reinvention isn't something that he's ever found difficult. That said, more hangs in the balance of keeping himself Castor and not Zuse than he'd really care to contemplate.

He puts the ISOs out of mind and it gets even easier. The club helps; Castor is vivacious, at least more than Zuse was (and Zuse was always a little more cruel), and the — frankly — bicurious tendencies kicked in later. The change of clothing helps too; he puts on the cracked-out rocker get-up and acting like he doesn't care about who shows up in his club (the Black Guard still send a jolt of fear through him — he knows that CLU doesn't take opposition well, and he doesn't care to find out firsthand) becomes less of a task.

Still.

The cycle is young (and so is End of Line, relatively speaking), and there's mischief to be made.

Tonight, he settles himself down at the bar, cane neatly in hand, face lit up like a firecracker. End of Line is nothing without a steady patron base, and his being despondent won't help.

As such, Castor's home, and so is the party.

gridlined @ 2010-12-19T00:20:00

2010-12-19T06:20:52Z

I'll do what I have to.

▼ INTRODUCTIONS

2010-12-19T05:21:41Z

Alright, and welcome to the party!

I am Rog, your mod, and mun of Castor and CLU (gridded). Since there are a lot of TRON muses floating around and the idea of a dressing room has popped up more than once, here we are.

Chances are the OOC tag isn't gonna be used often, but I figured it'd be a good idea to set up a post for introductions. Let's get the party started!