If you'd like to apply to Snowblind and would like to test the waters first or get a sample set up for your application, this meme is for you! We've even provided some prompts for you to use if you want (but feel free to make up your own). Here's how it works.
✭ Reply to this entry with a character you're considering apping into the game. You can include the name of your character and the fandom in your subject line. ✭ Comment around to others on the meme, whether you're in the game already or not. ✭ Now you have a sample ready for your application! ✭ So go reserve and apply when reservations and applications are open. ✭ Seriously, do it.
Network Prompts
ONE: IT WON'T BE LONG NOW... Well, you made a mistake. You spent too long searching around, or you ran outside near the end of the day for just one more thing, and now you've been locked out. You can search around all you want, but the best shelter you can hope for is pressing against the side of a sealed up building. You do still have your tablet, though. Maybe someone on the network can give you some advice, or at least some comfort while you wait for hypothermia to set in.
TWO: CABIN FEVER Maybe you didn't want that mistake of getting caught outside to happen again, but now you've ended up staying too long in one location, and cabin fever has set in. Maybe you're taking to the network to try and ignore the hallucinations. Maybe you want to tell everyone that you've figured out they're all in on your kidnapping. Maybe you ended up wandering off and now you'd really like to know if anyone can check back in the place you were at for your pants.
Action Prompts
THREE: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING You're going about your business searching what seems like it might be an especially promising house--it's fully intact and there's even a working fireplace with some wood! It looks like someone else has the same idea, though, and you've run into them in the middle of your search. Do you share the potential wealth or try to kick them out? On the other hand, maybe you know who this is, or maybe you're just glad to actually see another person for the first time in ages.
FOUR: GOOD MORGUE-NING You've just woken up in a morgue after dying in one unfortunate way or another. You have no idea where you are beyond that, but your tablet is insisting you can't stay here, so you should probably get out of here pretty quickly. Of course, bringing people back from the dead isn't a perfect science, so you're missing something important to you. Maybe you've lost your voice, maybe you can't remember where you're from, maybe you can't remember where you are right now. It looks like someone else is nearby, though. Maybe they can help you out?
[She's pacing. This is normal - those who have spoken with Shepard on the network before will know that she is rarely still when she speaks. But she's pacing with wider steps than usual, in the dank little room with the leaking roof and gray walls. The video feed moves quickly and jerkily, showing her face, then a sharp tilt, then her pacing feet. Then the tablet goes clattering down, and at an awkward angle, the network is treated to the view of Shepard punching the wall so hard her knuckles make a sharp cracking complaint.]
Damnit!
[She cradles her bruised hand with her good one, shaking her head, once, twice, three violent times.]
I haven't lost it yet, [she says in a tight, tense voice down at the tablet.] But it's happening. I'm seeing things that - [she abruptly stops, and presses the heels of her palms against her eyes.]
I know they didn't beat us - not yet. They're just playing with my head. Just... remind me, would you? That I'm not home. That it isn't over.
4 | Action!
[The second death is easier.
Shepard knows as soon as she comes to her senses, once she's calmed from the initial shock that makes her snap up on the morgue bed and scream silently at the burst of pain behind her eyes. She puts her head in her hands and breathes. You wouldn't think having died once would give you useful life experience, but there she is. Gone, back. Again.
The thing is, it makes sense. She hadn't expected to stay dead. They can take her down, but she's no longer afraid of staying down. She hisses at the headache as she eases herself off the bed and to her feet, but it's also a sound of rage, of cold defiance. Bastards made a mistake. She does not go gently.
Her feet crumple from under her.
The collapse s more shocking than painful. Only when she hits the floor, and lies in a dazed heap, does she register that her legs won't obey her. She feels them - pins and needles, goosebumps, one hip now badly bruised - but the order to move stops somewhere above her knees. She pushes herself up and finds herself seated on the cold floor, too stunned for any feeling but confusion. She can't walk like this. She can't even crawl properly. That didn't happen last time.
There's the strangest feeling of delayed-reaction panic now, like she knows that she's about to snap and has time to assess the panic and avert it. Combat kind of feeling. Shepard raises her head. There's a shadow moving just past the doorway of the morgue, stark against the pale white lighting and walls outside. All right. Not alone. Not alone is everything.]
[ Out of the darkness comes a black cat, purple eyes alert and focused on the woman. He trots up to sniff her face, trying to ascertain from this bad angle whether or not she's actually injured. He's heard this place takes its toll on those it revives, and it's possible she has simply lost the ability to stand. ]
[A cat is... not ideal, but beggars can't be choosers, and Shepard knows that there are no just-plain-cats in Norfinbury. Maybe it's a biotic cat. Something. She isn't always on top of the myriad forms of weird that the city offers, but her response to all of them remains the same - reaching out.
She extends a hand to the cat, inviting it for an ear scratch if it's in that business.] Hey, kitty - you're a pretty one - [She likes animals, it's a Spacer thing.] I'm all right, just the legs - can you understand me?
[She's not immediately expecting it to be able to talk, but it would figure.]
He tilts his head, not sure that a talking cat is what she needs right now. He prefers to let people know slowly, unless they're particularly open to the idea or just plain obnoxious.
He comes around to her side and wedges his head under her rib. He wants her to roll over.
It's hard to know if the cat does understand, though Shepard feels safe going with the theory that he isn't just a regular old cat. No regular olds here. Even a smart cat will do, she thinks as she strains not to panic at her situation. A smart cat could bring someone else. If there is anyone else.
"You want me to - flip?" The fact that it wants something and can express as much bodes well. With a small grunt, Shepard follows instructions, rolling onto her stomach. Maybe he plans to walk on her back. She'll take even a cat's plan right now.
Once she's on her stomach he races off down the hall, seemingly abandoning her.
It's a few minutes before he returns, announced by a stuttering squeak of wheels. He's found an autopsy table, and is pushing it down the hall as best a cat is able to do. The table itself is rather high, but he just has to hope she's strong enough to climb up there. Without his normal powers there isn't a lot more he can do for her.
It's a kind of hell, just lying there, practically immobilized and waiting for something shorter than her knee to help her out. Shepard breathes in and out, trying to keep her heart steady. Smart cat, it's a smart cat...
When she cranes her neck up and sees the table, she lets out a long sigh of relief. Smart cat. "Quick thinking. Knew I could count on you," she commends him like she would a crewmate. "Keep back for a second, so I don't fall on you - "
She's definitely strong enough to haul herself up, but with the wheels, the table slips when she leans on it and doesn't offer great leverage. Fix it in a corner, she thinks, starting to push and crawl and push. Hard going, but she wants the helpful cat to see she's pitching in on the effort. That she's worth helping.
Under normal circumstances, he would watch. These circumstances, however, are downright infuriating. Were he able to use his powers as normal he could heal her legs, or simply will the table into place, or any number of other useful things. Instead he is stuck no more powerful than any mortal cat in the realm.
So he trots forward to push the table for her, muttering angrily under his breath as he goes.
At first, Shepard is too focused on crawling and maneuvering the table to notice. Once they've shoved it into place and she's catching her breath, though, she gives the cat an odd look. Maybe she's just hearing things. That'd be pretty typical Norfinbury.
"If you can talk, it'd be nice to know," she says as she gets a grip on the metal frame again. "Don't want to offend you with 'who's a good kitty'." It's easier to pull now, and with concentrated effort, she makes progress on getting on the table.
Knew it. It might be weird - cat and all - but Shepard is relieved to hear that she actually has a conversational partner. Nothing gives her hope and courage like the sound of another's voice. Nothing's worse than what you face alone.
"You've helped a lot already. Thanks," she assures him now that she's sure he can understand it. "The table's a good call, if we can move it." She's perched on it awkwardly now, and can move some by pushing herself off the wall, but maneuverability isn't great.
"You'd - " she grunts with effort as she pushes off the wall. He's helping, but he is still just a cat, in terms of weight and strength, and she's also starting to worry about running him over. "You'd be amazed at what - people have - not believed about me before."
She's got to stop and breathe for a moment. Her time in Norfinbury has really not been great for her combat fitness.
"You mind going ahead for a moment and seeing if there are any stairs between here and the exit?" Maybe he already knows. Maybe that's what he meant. Maybe she's screwed.
[ The clatter of Shepard's fall draws Miranda's attention first, but she's not about to go wading into the morgue just to investigate a strange noise. Maybe in her own universe, where she had a gun and the biotic powers to rip anything here to shreds, but not in this one where she's as vulnerable as they come.
The voice, though - the voice gives her pause. She's spoken to Shepard a few times over the network, but hadn't been in any hurry to track her down; a large part of Miranda's convinced that she's a clone or another Conrad Verner, but there's just something there she can't entirely dismiss.
It's enough for Miranda to come to the doorway and scan the dim room until she spots Shepard on the floor. ]
[Shepard's first, real, gut reaction is a flood of relief. Nothing could be better than an old squadmate now. But then there's the kick of uncertainty, the knowledge that this Miranda - it's a crazy thought, but Shepard's been through visions, machine god invasions from the outer void, and the Omega 4 relay; alternate universes almost seem like the natural next step - this Miranda isn't... hers. And knows it. And Shepard knows Miranda, can imagine how this feels from the other woman's perspective.
Damnit, she wanted to greet Miranda on her feet.]
Glad to see you. [She smiles, keeping up her confident look. This is her squadmate. She refuses to be be suspicious of her.] Got a bit of a problem here - [She gestures at her legs, shifting where she sits so that her inability to rise is painfully obvious.]
Looks like whoever fixed me this time isn't up to your standards.
[ The joke is automatic and absent-minded and only half a joke. For all Norfinbury's "admin" are faster and apparently cheaper, their craftsmanship certainly doesn't hold up to two years of painstaking work.
And now they're meddling in something that Miranda thinks, on some level, to be hers. If this really is a version of Shepard and she really does have another Miranda out there somewhere, anyway.
They've mucked it up fantastically this time. Miranda's expression is as severe as it usually is while she studies Shepard's legs. ]
- Most of the people that are resurrected here come back with something 'wrong.' Memories, senses missing, that sort of thing. Yours is... unusually inconvenient, but then you don't do things by halves, do you?
They could learn a thing or two about research ethics, too. [Shepard answers with her own half-joke, dry but still smiling. Touchy subject, maybe, but she'd seen Miranda grow - she'd like to remind her of that. At least of what she and another Miranda have gone through together.
Shepard reaches out to people. It's automatic. It's what she does. No one's taking that away, even if she has to push to keep it.]
It's a bit more than inconvenient, [she grunts as she tries to haul herself to her knees again. No luck. Better be careful or she'd be flopping like a fish.] I'll take losing a memory or two instead. Choking to death in freefall might've been a nice one... how long until this sorts itself out?
All things considered, we should probably be grateful they didn't use a -
[ Miranda cuts herself off, unwilling to push it that far yet. It's one more similarity to add to an ever-growing and increasingly complex list, and one more piece of history that's painfully easy to slot into place. She's trying to ignore the reaching, too, because there's a part of Miranda that wants nothing more to fall behind Shepard's banner again. She's grown from that, too, and here she knows a little more. ]
Anyway. Someone I know here lost his memory for four days. The other losses seem to persist at least that long.
[ That Shepard absolutely can't stay in the morgue for four days goes unspoken. Miranda's not certain what would happen to anyone caught here when that forcing-out feeling begins, but she doesn't want Shepard to find out. ]
- I'll have to carry you. There's a house a few hours north of here; we'll have to make for that.
[It's a little - all right, more than a little worrying when Miranda doesn't say something. Shepard still occasionally has a morbid little think about what could've gone into her revival (her previous revival, now). But if she's going to have faith, then she's going all the way with it. There's no other way to have faith.
Miranda will understand. Eventually. She has to keep thinking as much.]
Four days? [She tries to sound encouraged, and it works pretty well.] Let's - try to think of that as an upper boundary. When we get back, Joker'll never stop laughing at me if I couldn't take four days without standing up. [She chuckles, and somehow it doesn't sound hollow at all. Shepard magic.
She knows better than to ask if Miranda would be all right carrying her - she isn't about to insult her like that.] All right. But if there's trouble, you drop me and you run. We clear?
[ Anyone else, Miranda might. The idea of carrying someone else's weight and another set of possessions on top of her own, for hours, is daunting. There's no way of getting around it, though, so she just offers Shepard a wry smile. ]
If the Miranda where you come from is anything like me, you have to know failure isn't an option. I'm bringing you all the way, or I'm not going.
We certainly can't let Moreau have the last laugh; he wouldn't last two minutes out here.
If we run into a monster, there won't be a damn thing we can do. You're not sticking around just so you can die with me. [Shepard's voice hardens. Not as much as it can - it's not that's an order, Lawson yet - but it's hinting at the option. She wouldn't be so quick to resort to it, but she's running on combat mode now. She's pretty much being doing that since her arrival. Sooner or later it was bound to show.]
They brought me back once, they won't let it all get wasted. And let's be honest... [She stares down at her immobile legs, and thinks about how much more effective Joker would've been in this situation. Teach her a thing or two.] They can't fuck it up much worse next time.
[ Miranda can see the practicality in that, and she's always been ruthlessly practical. It still doesn't sit right, the same way cutting and running instead of joining the Alliance's war effort hadn't. Sometimes practicality took a back seat, and they weren't orders.
Not yet. ]
-Of course, Shepard, I'll do what I have to do. Maybe you'll have better luck next time and only lose your memories of here.
Now let's get your things and get out of this hellhole before some mad scientist takes that as a challenge.
[Thank goodness, that worked. Though Shepard imagines that Miranda is perfectly capable of saying one thing then doing another, at the moment of truth. She's not beyond doing that herself... but she takes what she can get.
She nods, bracing herself for the indignity of being picked up and lugged around. This isn't going to be fun.] You really wanna have to go through explaining the alternate universes thing again? [Only after the joke leaves her mouth does she realize that it was a really bad one to make, and tries not to cringe.]
Just - throw me over your shoulder. I'll think light thoughts.
[ Not a conversation Miranda's keen on repeating, ever; if anyone else they know - from either version of their universe - is abducted here, Shepard can handle that talk. She's better at not unsettling people, at least. ]
Come on, then.
[ Nothing for it but to do it. Miranda grabs Shepard and holds still, testing her balance - she still hasn't found anything better than the heels - and takes a deep breath. It is going to be a long day. ]
[It's a shit joke considering what both of them have been subsisting on in the city, but Shepard has got to say something as she gets hauled off her feet. She trusts Miranda implicitly, but she feels so , so - broken, like this. It's supposed to be she who carries others. Always has been.]
How many hours are a few? [Implicit trust, but she's not sure she can handle put up with this helpless feeling for very long.] You sure you'll - we'll make it all the way before nightfall?
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snowblindmemes2015-10-15 02:54 am
Shepard | Mass Effect
[She's pacing. This is normal - those who have spoken with Shepard on the network before will know that she is rarely still when she speaks. But she's pacing with wider steps than usual, in the dank little room with the leaking roof and gray walls. The video feed moves quickly and jerkily, showing her face, then a sharp tilt, then her pacing feet. Then the tablet goes clattering down, and at an awkward angle, the network is treated to the view of Shepard punching the wall so hard her knuckles make a sharp cracking complaint.]
Damnit!
[She cradles her bruised hand with her good one, shaking her head, once, twice, three violent times.]
I haven't lost it yet, [she says in a tight, tense voice down at the tablet.] But it's happening. I'm seeing things that - [she abruptly stops, and presses the heels of her palms against her eyes.]
I know they didn't beat us - not yet. They're just playing with my head. Just... remind me, would you? That I'm not home. That it isn't over.
4 | Action!
[The second death is easier.
Shepard knows as soon as she comes to her senses, once she's calmed from the initial shock that makes her snap up on the morgue bed and scream silently at the burst of pain behind her eyes. She puts her head in her hands and breathes. You wouldn't think having died once would give you useful life experience, but there she is. Gone, back. Again.
The thing is, it makes sense. She hadn't expected to stay dead. They can take her down, but she's no longer afraid of staying down. She hisses at the headache as she eases herself off the bed and to her feet, but it's also a sound of rage, of cold defiance. Bastards made a mistake. She does not go gently.
Her feet crumple from under her.
The collapse s more shocking than painful. Only when she hits the floor, and lies in a dazed heap, does she register that her legs won't obey her. She feels them - pins and needles, goosebumps, one hip now badly bruised - but the order to move stops somewhere above her knees. She pushes herself up and finds herself seated on the cold floor, too stunned for any feeling but confusion. She can't walk like this. She can't even crawl properly. That didn't happen last time.
There's the strangest feeling of delayed-reaction panic now, like she knows that she's about to snap and has time to assess the panic and avert it. Combat kind of feeling. Shepard raises her head. There's a shadow moving just past the doorway of the morgue, stark against the pale white lighting and walls outside. All right. Not alone. Not alone is everything.]
Hey! I need help in here!
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She extends a hand to the cat, inviting it for an ear scratch if it's in that business.] Hey, kitty - you're a pretty one - [She likes animals, it's a Spacer thing.] I'm all right, just the legs - can you understand me?
[She's not immediately expecting it to be able to talk, but it would figure.]
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He comes around to her side and wedges his head under her rib. He wants her to roll over.
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"You want me to - flip?" The fact that it wants something and can express as much bodes well. With a small grunt, Shepard follows instructions, rolling onto her stomach. Maybe he plans to walk on her back. She'll take even a cat's plan right now.
going with hospital morgue for convenience's sake
It's a few minutes before he returns, announced by a stuttering squeak of wheels. He's found an autopsy table, and is pushing it down the hall as best a cat is able to do. The table itself is rather high, but he just has to hope she's strong enough to climb up there. Without his normal powers there isn't a lot more he can do for her.
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When she cranes her neck up and sees the table, she lets out a long sigh of relief. Smart cat. "Quick thinking. Knew I could count on you," she commends him like she would a crewmate. "Keep back for a second, so I don't fall on you - "
She's definitely strong enough to haul herself up, but with the wheels, the table slips when she leans on it and doesn't offer great leverage. Fix it in a corner, she thinks, starting to push and crawl and push. Hard going, but she wants the helpful cat to see she's pitching in on the effort. That she's worth helping.
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So he trots forward to push the table for her, muttering angrily under his breath as he goes.
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"If you can talk, it'd be nice to know," she says as she gets a grip on the metal frame again. "Don't want to offend you with 'who's a good kitty'." It's easier to pull now, and with concentrated effort, she makes progress on getting on the table.
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"You've helped a lot already. Thanks," she assures him now that she's sure he can understand it. "The table's a good call, if we can move it." She's perched on it awkwardly now, and can move some by pushing herself off the wall, but maneuverability isn't great.
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"I do not believe you will be able to leave this building."
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She's got to stop and breathe for a moment. Her time in Norfinbury has really not been great for her combat fitness.
"You mind going ahead for a moment and seeing if there are any stairs between here and the exit?" Maybe he already knows. Maybe that's what he meant. Maybe she's screwed.
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4 because dead Shepards attract Mirandas
The voice, though - the voice gives her pause. She's spoken to Shepard a few times over the network, but hadn't been in any hurry to track her down; a large part of Miranda's convinced that she's a clone or another Conrad Verner, but there's just something there she can't entirely dismiss.
It's enough for Miranda to come to the doorway and scan the dim room until she spots Shepard on the floor. ]
-Shepard? What's wrong?
hi Miranda let me confuse you BUT LOVINGLY
[Shepard's first, real, gut reaction is a flood of relief. Nothing could be better than an old squadmate now. But then there's the kick of uncertainty, the knowledge that this Miranda - it's a crazy thought, but Shepard's been through visions, machine god invasions from the outer void, and the Omega 4 relay; alternate universes almost seem like the natural next step - this Miranda isn't... hers. And knows it. And Shepard knows Miranda, can imagine how this feels from the other woman's perspective.
Damnit, she wanted to greet Miranda on her feet.]
Glad to see you. [She smiles, keeping up her confident look. This is her squadmate. She refuses to be be suspicious of her.] Got a bit of a problem here - [She gestures at her legs, shifting where she sits so that her inability to rise is painfully obvious.]
Looks like whoever fixed me this time isn't up to your standards.
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[ The joke is automatic and absent-minded and only half a joke. For all Norfinbury's "admin" are faster and apparently cheaper, their craftsmanship certainly doesn't hold up to two years of painstaking work.
And now they're meddling in something that Miranda thinks, on some level, to be hers. If this really is a version of Shepard and she really does have another Miranda out there somewhere, anyway.
They've mucked it up fantastically this time. Miranda's expression is as severe as it usually is while she studies Shepard's legs. ]
- Most of the people that are resurrected here come back with something 'wrong.' Memories, senses missing, that sort of thing. Yours is... unusually inconvenient, but then you don't do things by halves, do you?
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Shepard reaches out to people. It's automatic. It's what she does. No one's taking that away, even if she has to push to keep it.]
It's a bit more than inconvenient, [she grunts as she tries to haul herself to her knees again. No luck. Better be careful or she'd be flopping like a fish.] I'll take losing a memory or two instead. Choking to death in freefall might've been a nice one... how long until this sorts itself out?
[Of course it'll sort itself out. She's Shepard. She doesn't stay down, right?]
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[ Miranda cuts herself off, unwilling to push it that far yet. It's one more similarity to add to an ever-growing and increasingly complex list, and one more piece of history that's painfully easy to slot into place. She's trying to ignore the reaching, too, because there's a part of Miranda that wants nothing more to fall behind Shepard's banner again. She's grown from that, too, and here she knows a little more. ]
Anyway. Someone I know here lost his memory for four days. The other losses seem to persist at least that long.
[ That Shepard absolutely can't stay in the morgue for four days goes unspoken. Miranda's not certain what would happen to anyone caught here when that forcing-out feeling begins, but she doesn't want Shepard to find out. ]
- I'll have to carry you. There's a house a few hours north of here; we'll have to make for that.
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Miranda will understand. Eventually. She has to keep thinking as much.]
Four days? [She tries to sound encouraged, and it works pretty well.] Let's - try to think of that as an upper boundary. When we get back, Joker'll never stop laughing at me if I couldn't take four days without standing up. [She chuckles, and somehow it doesn't sound hollow at all. Shepard magic.
She knows better than to ask if Miranda would be all right carrying her - she isn't about to insult her like that.] All right. But if there's trouble, you drop me and you run. We clear?
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[ Anyone else, Miranda might. The idea of carrying someone else's weight and another set of possessions on top of her own, for hours, is daunting. There's no way of getting around it, though, so she just offers Shepard a wry smile. ]
If the Miranda where you come from is anything like me, you have to know failure isn't an option. I'm bringing you all the way, or I'm not going.
We certainly can't let Moreau have the last laugh; he wouldn't last two minutes out here.
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They brought me back once, they won't let it all get wasted. And let's be honest... [She stares down at her immobile legs, and thinks about how much more effective Joker would've been in this situation. Teach her a thing or two.] They can't fuck it up much worse next time.
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Not yet. ]
-Of course, Shepard, I'll do what I have to do. Maybe you'll have better luck next time and only lose your memories of here.
Now let's get your things and get out of this hellhole before some mad scientist takes that as a challenge.
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She nods, bracing herself for the indignity of being picked up and lugged around. This isn't going to be fun.] You really wanna have to go through explaining the alternate universes thing again? [Only after the joke leaves her mouth does she realize that it was a really bad one to make, and tries not to cringe.]
Just - throw me over your shoulder. I'll think light thoughts.
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[ Not a conversation Miranda's keen on repeating, ever; if anyone else they know - from either version of their universe - is abducted here, Shepard can handle that talk. She's better at not unsettling people, at least. ]
Come on, then.
[ Nothing for it but to do it. Miranda grabs Shepard and holds still, testing her balance - she still hasn't found anything better than the heels - and takes a deep breath. It is going to be a long day. ]
-I don't think the thoughts are working.
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[It's a shit joke considering what both of them have been subsisting on in the city, but Shepard has got to say something as she gets hauled off her feet. She trusts Miranda implicitly, but she feels so , so - broken, like this. It's supposed to be she who carries others. Always has been.]
How many hours are a few? [Implicit trust, but she's not sure she can handle put up with this helpless feeling for very long.] You sure you'll - we'll make it all the way before nightfall?
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