Matt spent approximately 36 minutes trying to be cool in space and not stick out like the ground-based bumpkin he is. Then he found the replicator.
At first he asked for basic stuff. Coffee. Mango sticky rice. And miraculously, in a manner that strains his understanding of matter and energy, it appeared. Matt's so thrilled he's forgotten to eat.
"Okay, okay okay okay, could you do like … as close as possible to a Honeybird Saison from 21st Amendment Brewery?"
There's a bit of a pause.
A pint glass of something beer-smelling appears, but the color is ... off. It's kind of a radioactive pink. Matt hovers indecisively, hand half-stretched to take the unfamiliar beverage.
To drink it, or not to drink it …?
mission - mine, all mine
Frankly, these people lost him at mining. Matt wasn't going to volunteer at all--he figured he'd stay on the station and keep getting the lay of the land--until he learned about the s-l-a-v-e-r-y.
Before going planetside, he asks the replicator for a few fresh Earth herbs, which he stuffs into his pockets. While they're all technically edible, Matt's plans for them are more arcane than gastronomic. He's not totally sure what he's going to do about this evil mining company slave situation? But he's got to do something.
Matt is lanky, floppy-haired, and possesses the big gentle eyes of someone who probably hasn't seen video game combat, let alone the real thing. That may explain why within minutes of landing and being given instructions, he's pulled some of those herbs from his pocket, whispered a few lines of something that sounds almost like a poem, and disappeared.
If you're good at magic, or you just have good hearing or perhaps a heightened sense of smell, you'll still be able to perceive him. Matt's charm was whipped up too hastily to cover all five senses--it just masks his body heat and visibility. He's sneaking off to the mine entrance; time to get some firsthand intel on these labor conditions.
Fine, so he won't be employee of the year. He's not son of the year either, so that maths out.
wildcard
[ Wilcard me! Aboard the ship, Matt can definitely be found stargazing out any available window, or in a quad room going "oh no there's only one four beds." Other scenarios are more than welcome.
Matt Jamison | OC
mess hall - a hipster prepares (food)
Matt spent approximately 36 minutes trying to be cool in space and not stick out like the ground-based bumpkin he is. Then he found the replicator.
At first he asked for basic stuff. Coffee. Mango sticky rice. And miraculously, in a manner that strains his understanding of matter and energy, it appeared. Matt's so thrilled he's forgotten to eat.
"Okay, okay okay okay, could you do like … as close as possible to a Honeybird Saison from 21st Amendment Brewery?"
There's a bit of a pause.
A pint glass of something beer-smelling appears, but the color is ... off. It's kind of a radioactive pink. Matt hovers indecisively, hand half-stretched to take the unfamiliar beverage.
To drink it, or not to drink it …?
mission - mine, all mine
Frankly, these people lost him at mining. Matt wasn't going to volunteer at all--he figured he'd stay on the station and keep getting the lay of the land--until he learned about the s-l-a-v-e-r-y.
Before going planetside, he asks the replicator for a few fresh Earth herbs, which he stuffs into his pockets. While they're all technically edible, Matt's plans for them are more arcane than gastronomic. He's not totally sure what he's going to do about this evil mining company slave situation? But he's got to do something.
Matt is lanky, floppy-haired, and possesses the big gentle eyes of someone who probably hasn't seen video game combat, let alone the real thing. That may explain why within minutes of landing and being given instructions, he's pulled some of those herbs from his pocket, whispered a few lines of something that sounds almost like a poem, and disappeared.
If you're good at magic, or you just have good hearing or perhaps a heightened sense of smell, you'll still be able to perceive him. Matt's charm was whipped up too hastily to cover all five senses--it just masks his body heat and visibility. He's sneaking off to the mine entrance; time to get some firsthand intel on these labor conditions.
Fine, so he won't be employee of the year. He's not son of the year either, so that maths out.
wildcard
[ Wilcard me! Aboard the ship, Matt can definitely be found stargazing out any available window, or in a quad room going "oh no there's only
onefour beds." Other scenarios are more than welcome.For more info on this helpful disaster creature, you can bop over here. ]