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Post by Raven8 on Sept 22, 2011 19:43:57 GMT -8
The central gate by which you enter Creamland. Roughly 2 miles from the waterfront/airport, THE ONLY way to enter the country. Several screening stations are set along the well cared-for road, while to the left and right is an amazingly beautiful sight; Cream Park, the shore-front of Creamland, outside of the city walls. To keep visitors from escaping screening, there is a ten-foot tall iron fence dotted with armed guards and sniper-posts dotting the landscape. After the final check-point, you ented the beautiful city via the main gate. There is a direct street to the central castle, giving the entire city a feeling of being from the distant past. The gates were forged-iron and extreamly large, with a large extention to the wall placed at either side to seal the city if need be.
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Post by Vilicious on Nov 30, 2011 21:06:49 GMT -8
[bgcolor=black]1 second past the shutdown. Where there was once network, now only darkness lies.
3 seconds past. As the reboot commences, networks all across Creamland go black, separated devices cease functioning (and in necessary cases, slow to a halt), communications cut out, endless experiments are ground to stop at great expense to the nation, videofeeds of national news are locked from broadcasting their doomsaying the world over, airtraffic control switches to remote systems... silence pervades the air over the island nation but for a single helicopter's barely audible thrumming, as it makes its landing outside the wall. People patiently stare into their devices wondering, "How soon will it come back?" Internet boards begin flooding with complaints of potential delay, lag, schedule interruption, and threats of boycott - everybody operates on their own time.
5 seconds past. Elsewhere, in a server room far underground, a group of men overlook massive geothermal and hydro generators, while another group of men lays unconscious upon the floor. The generators, by this time, have been working at full capacity for exactly 30 seconds after finishing their 30 minute warm-up period. The networkless intercom continues chiming desperately as it had been since the last check up 15 minutes ago. The Tempest guards continue to receive no response from their generator room.
Did you know? The energy required to hold the entirety of a backup ready and set for a switch-out with the nigh infinite space of another network far exceeds that of normal generators, and so each country long ago created an easy-maintenance version of this room - just in case.
It's clear that these men are here for energy... but for what purpose?
9 seconds. Far away, as observant eyes adjust, there are lights. Distant networks, once connected to this void, now hanging in midair. The illusion of reality has been dashed away as though you had entered the core of the network itself. Navis gather in hordes by the bridges to the Creamland network, hoping to catch a glimpse of something in the void.
Rumors speak of a place beyond the bounds of the known net: the place where no navi can travel. What this place is is only speculated, but Duo is cited as proof that other networks exist, and that given apt proximity one might bridge the gap through... through what? Waves in the physical world? Research on Waves turned to other, more practical applications long ago.
Those that stared into the void did not gaze upward nor think to focus in that direction. If they had, one might have noticed an object, about navi-sized, floating high above the border.
13 seconds. A man in the generator room smiles, leans on the railing. He flicks a cigarette into the waters below. Another punches him in the shoulder and gestures toward the door. Somebody's banging.
The helicopter touches down, and the men inside are arguing loudly over the quiet "Whup whup whup" of the chopper blades. The door opens, an empty cup rolls out onto the helipad. Several well-dressed Tempest-men hurry to the side and stand at attention.
An angry navi waiting at the edge of the network idly kicks a stone into the intangible barrier cutting the space off. Against all logic, it passes through and falls...
Sixteen seconds of downtime. 41 seconds and 473 milliseconds past the initiation of the generators:
SYSTEM RESTORED [/size][/u] The server turns back on. Nothing has changed that was already there... not visibly. Nothing at all. All navis stand exactly as they were, all viruses, programs, auxiliary functions, and data bits are exactly as they were when the network went down. The colony and the surrounding area felt even more charged with energy, but... it could have just been the reboot. - The Netopian Senator, Euclid Geminus, steps down onto the helipad and gives a very slight but very delighted bow to his attending guards. He'd been accosted outside the Government complex in Electopia and briefed on some critical situation in Creamland, but hadn't paid attention. No, instead the debate on the ride over was more concerned with etiquette when dealing with royalty and which dinner fork was most apt for eye-gouging. An alarm sounds from his PET, and so he flips it out of his sleeve: The display reads "41s473". He grins and turns to his companion, clasps him on the shoulder. "My dear man, it would seem that the genocide... Excuse me, I mean the server reboot is complete. Congratulations!" Geminus pats the man on his shoulder and begins the long, security filled walk to the castle.- [/color][/color]
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