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VIDEO; UN: Dimitri
[ At precisely noon according to standardized HUD time, all characters will receive a communication much the same way that Ripley communicates: abruptly, semi-transparently, and nearly impossible to override. Nearly, unless you're doing something incredibly important that might cause you to drown, set someone on fire, or otherwise die. Upon the screen is a smart-looking gentleman that notably never emerged from one of those terrible pods filled with goo like the rest of you sad people, holding a teacup. Despite the fact that he brings it to his mouth, it's actually very, very empty.
It looks classy, though, and it matches his accent — cheerfully British. Space British. This is space and we can pretend up here if we want to, thank you. ]
Right, yes, hello. Pleasure to meet you all, probably, except for whoever keeps chucking toilets out of the airlocks. My name is Dmitri, and if you're interested in fancy naming schemes it stands for Data Mainframe Interface... T-trans...mu...tational... ram... rrr...
[ And he sort of devolves into a series of mumbles that are absolutely one hundred percent words you just can't hear them because you have sad pathetic human ears and not because he doesn't actually know what his name stands for thank you very much. CLEARING THROAT MOVING ON. ]
Anyway, the important thing to know is that I am not your butler. I may look like a butler, I may have been... slightly designed to sort of do butlery-things, I may even occasionally clean up your messes, but that does not make me your butler. As a matter of fact, that's part of the reason why I'm addressing you all today. We need butlers.
[ A beat. ]
No, sorry, we need employees. I've accumulated a list of vital work that needs to be done on a regular basis to maintain both life as we know it and the comfortable state you precarious lot seem to require in order to be happy and not pig-filthy disgusting. So. If you could all stop fornicating in the supply closets for a minute— really odd choice, by the way, you're in bleeding space for god's sake, have some priorities— we can delegate based on your prior experiences and the good you can provide to your fellow man.
Now.
Upon your display you should see a list of the currently necessary fields for which you may volunteer. Some are a bit more... demanding than others, let's not get any delusions of grandeur shall we? If you pretend to be an eight when you're really a two and you weld your own fist to the engine we're all bloody fucked, aren't we? That being said, I'll be conducting interviews for the following fields:
Medical, Technological, Engineering.
All the rest you can figure out either by just generally not being a moron or with a bit of interpersonal training. If you are, by chance, so utterly unfortunate in mental capacity that even the janitorial work seems beyond your capabilities, do let me know and perhaps we can come up with some other need for you. Droid morale, perhaps? Follow 'em around for a couple hours a day shouting 'you can do it' in your most encouraging voice. They don't care, of course, but it might make you feel less like a piece of garbage over not being able to contribute to the society that's quite literally keeping you afloat.
Please RSVP via your display rather than in person, as I'm currently too busy not being your butler to conduct face-to-face interviews and also I may or may not be stuck in a very large closet at the moment. It's a bit embarrassing and I'd rather not discuss it.
[ He shrugs a little, then scratches his chin with the underside of a very empty teacup which he promptly then pretends to drink from again. ]
Oh- ! Before I forget. Brilliant job patching up that hole. Really wonderful work keeping out the horrific blackness of eternal space and all that. One thing to note, that's definitely a patch and not a complete fix, so until we actually manage to stop and do a proper inspection we may or may not still die a sudden unexpected death in the void.
Anyway, carry on!
It looks classy, though, and it matches his accent — cheerfully British. Space British. This is space and we can pretend up here if we want to, thank you. ]
Right, yes, hello. Pleasure to meet you all, probably, except for whoever keeps chucking toilets out of the airlocks. My name is Dmitri, and if you're interested in fancy naming schemes it stands for Data Mainframe Interface... T-trans...mu...tational... ram... rrr...
[ And he sort of devolves into a series of mumbles that are absolutely one hundred percent words you just can't hear them because you have sad pathetic human ears and not because he doesn't actually know what his name stands for thank you very much. CLEARING THROAT MOVING ON. ]
Anyway, the important thing to know is that I am not your butler. I may look like a butler, I may have been... slightly designed to sort of do butlery-things, I may even occasionally clean up your messes, but that does not make me your butler. As a matter of fact, that's part of the reason why I'm addressing you all today. We need butlers.
[ A beat. ]
No, sorry, we need employees. I've accumulated a list of vital work that needs to be done on a regular basis to maintain both life as we know it and the comfortable state you precarious lot seem to require in order to be happy and not pig-filthy disgusting. So. If you could all stop fornicating in the supply closets for a minute— really odd choice, by the way, you're in bleeding space for god's sake, have some priorities— we can delegate based on your prior experiences and the good you can provide to your fellow man.
Now.
Upon your display you should see a list of the currently necessary fields for which you may volunteer. Some are a bit more... demanding than others, let's not get any delusions of grandeur shall we? If you pretend to be an eight when you're really a two and you weld your own fist to the engine we're all bloody fucked, aren't we? That being said, I'll be conducting interviews for the following fields:
Medical, Technological, Engineering.
All the rest you can figure out either by just generally not being a moron or with a bit of interpersonal training. If you are, by chance, so utterly unfortunate in mental capacity that even the janitorial work seems beyond your capabilities, do let me know and perhaps we can come up with some other need for you. Droid morale, perhaps? Follow 'em around for a couple hours a day shouting 'you can do it' in your most encouraging voice. They don't care, of course, but it might make you feel less like a piece of garbage over not being able to contribute to the society that's quite literally keeping you afloat.
Please RSVP via your display rather than in person, as I'm currently too busy not being your butler to conduct face-to-face interviews and also I may or may not be stuck in a very large closet at the moment. It's a bit embarrassing and I'd rather not discuss it.
[ He shrugs a little, then scratches his chin with the underside of a very empty teacup which he promptly then pretends to drink from again. ]
Oh- ! Before I forget. Brilliant job patching up that hole. Really wonderful work keeping out the horrific blackness of eternal space and all that. One thing to note, that's definitely a patch and not a complete fix, so until we actually manage to stop and do a proper inspection we may or may not still die a sudden unexpected death in the void.
Anyway, carry on!
no subject
I am not a valet.
Until this grievous accusation is rectified, the requisition for hands in the engineering department is currently closed.
Best regards,
Demeteri
no subject
[ A few beats. ]
What about a different colour option? A nice fetching blue. Black is always a classic, although honestly I'm not overfond. Teal? You can never have too much teal. Universally appealing, on me.
no subject
No.
no subject
You can call me Sturmhond. I remember you. Keep your stingers to yourself this time, please.
[ His head still hurts, FYI. ]
Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being a valet. Would you prefer concierge? Steward, perhaps? I have more, I'm sure we can find one that suits you.
no subject
port-
starboard...
st..
Port side of this vessel.
no subject
Mildly: ]
Well, which is it? There's a very crucial difference.
But at any rate, ships are not generally ruled by Lords. That's more of a landed gentry sort of thing. No, ships have Captains! I'm quite the authority on that, owing that I happen to be one.
no subject
no subject
I must say that was rather an unorthodox test. Points for originality.