The Fifth Dimension Meme

[rp_help]

A fold in the universe exists in the ether of the fifth dimension. This place, because it is somehow a place, consists of nothing, exists nowhere and nowhen.

Yet you find yourself in it.

To the eye of the mortal mind, this space appears to be a white, featureless room, and the portals that have brought you here appear to be nothing but empty thresholds. How you arrived is anyone's guess. Perhaps you were transported while in the throes of death; perhaps it was something so simple as passing through a doorway in your own world.

While here, others may be transported into this dimension join you. At there mere thought of your most treasured or needed possession, the item may appear on the pedestal within. Visitors can freely go to another world contained within one of the portals if they wish, but you must have a companion for the dimensional shift to work. Otherwise passing through the thresholds will be of no effect.

This is no dream; this is no afterlife. And you are in it. What happens next is up to you.

How to play:

↳ Write an intro post detailing your character's arrival to the fifth dimension
↳ Tag around to document your character's interactions with other characters

Comments

Agent York | Red vs Blue

[logicunlocked]

[ York had been unconscious when the explosion occurred—no, that wasn't right. He remembered it, but he'd been dead. Dead at Wyoming's hand. Wash had arrived and recovered Delta and then set a charge to blow up his dead body. And then he'd exploded.

It's kind of funny because he's not in a zillion pieces like you'd expect. Instead he's here. Not lying on the floor or standing in place, because he's kind of not completely intersected with the dimension yet. How odd.

York sits up—evidently not being intersected with a dimension is a lot like lying on its floor—and pushes a hand through his hair. He's nude. It makes sense, since his armor had been destroyed in the explosion. Being nude doesn't bother him—it's cozy here, not warm and not cold, but just comfortable. York looks around, then begins to wander. He walks through one of the ports, then continues walking, walking, walking—probably walks for ten minutes or better.

When he glances back the port is right behind him. ]

Agent North Dakota | Red vs Blue

[bothbarrels]

[ He remembered the fight, being shot on the oil platform in defense of his sister. He'd lost consciousness, laid out flat on the ground. It wasn't until he was inside the Pelican that he awakened, and he came up with a daring plan. Use the dome shield, prevent the missiles from hitting, save everyone's life. And it worked—at least, he thinks it did. He braced himself, activated the shield, watched the bright flash of the world becoming nothing but explosions and light—

and then he's blinking against as impossible brightness as he falls through a doorway, and empty featureless white frame. Tumbling to the floor is his only option, as exhausted and injured as he is. His armor is dented into his chest and he's bleeding from his cheek.

He's a mess. And he needs something, anything to deal with the aftermath of what he's been through.

At the mere thought of bandages and antiseptic a container of each appears on the pedestal. He approaches, untrusting, but in pain. There's nothing to do but remove his upper armor and begin the process of patching himself up. ]

Agent Texas | Red vs Blue

[a_shadow]

[ Donut's throw is true. Tex's body shorts out. Tex's consciousness remains—she'd never learned to jump bodies like Omega, so until she can work that out she's stuck. And so she's there when her body is buried and when it drops to the cave floor. Lame. Well, she's an AI—she'll figure this out. She makes her first move, and it's like a flash of light, except that it's more like a flash of nothing...and then she's here, in the featureless room, sans a material existence. ]

Damn it!

[ Her very next thought is how to procure a body—and a body appears on the pedestal, seated, legs crossed, hand on its chin like the famous statue. This is a human woman's body, blond, and Tex recognizes the face.

It's Allison's body.

Tex doesn't react, simply remains there in front of it in holographic form. She's not sure whether she should try to jump into it and use it. She's inclined not to, really. This is rather creepy. ]

Florence Vassey | Chess (Broadway)

[nobodysside]

[ She's just started to realize this whole thing is going to fall apart, and there's not going to be anything she can do about it—except be proactive and make her own move. She's going to do it—leave her position as Freddie's second and begin a new life with Anatoly. She's headed there to let Freddie know, expression dark and haughty, but when she passes through the door of her hotel room, she finds herself somewhere else. An empty place. A nothing place.

She hangs out there for a long time, occasionally passing through the doorways to see if anything will change, but it doesn't. She doesn't realize what the pedestal is until much later, when she laments her lack of a meal to sate her hunger, and she inadvertently causes one to appear.

It's a while later when she decides to learn whether she can alter the mechanics of this place willingly—she wishes for a lock and key to appear on the pedestal. Once they do, she takes the lock and affixes it to one of the ports—in theory, when she opens it with the key, the port will open. ]

Max Caulfield | Life Is Strange

[dramaquing]

[Max has been sitting here for a while now. Actually, she doesn't know if it has been a while, the concept of time they humans define it doesn't fit in here.
She doesn't even know what here is and she's not trying to understand it. All she knows is that it beats being chased by embodiments of her fears.

She's enjoying the nothingness of this place, the silence, the bright light. No fears, no pain or doubts either, no nothing. Just her... and her camera apparently, sitting on a pedestal in front of her. It wasn't here when she first arrive, but there it is.

She keeps doing nothing. She knows that eventually she would have to stand up and at least check this place out but not yet, not now.

Or does she?]

[a_7]

[ Maybe she does, or maybe it's her choice. Either way: there's a boy staggering through another one of the doorways. He walks backwards, keeping his eyes on whatever he came from, until suddenly all he sees instead is white.

Minho looks around, clearly alarmed, and immediately tries to backtrack through the door in front of him-- with no success. ]

What the hell?

[ Only then does he actually look around the room and notice Max. He doesn't approach her, if she's already looking at him. If she isn't, he'll angle around her instead, into her field of vision. For his part, he looks like some level of hell, part dragged through the dirt, part singed. Despite this and the panic in his chest he's refusing to acknowledge (what happened to his friends? did he pass out? did he die?), he's keeping his voice steady. ]

Hey. What's going on here?

[dramaquing]

[Max doesn't notice Minho at first, eyes focused on her camera on the pedestal, pondering if she should go get it.

She doesn't really want to, knowing that whatever this place is, if she takes it she will have to do something with it, no, with herself.

Finally, she catches a figure out of the corner of her eye, she turns around suddenly, and the look she gives Minho is a terrified one, they're here. She's half standing when she finally sees him.]

I don't know you.

[She says, instead of responding. If the situation were normal different, she would feel pretty silly.

It doesn't take her long to notice how roughed up he looks. Is he another time traveller who abused his power?]

What happened to you?

[She still hasn't answered, but it should be clear that she hasn't figured out much about this place.]

[a_7]

[ He notices the fear. It's all over her face and the way she moves, but what it really tells him is that she seems as lost as he is. To the first half of her non-answer, he scoffs. ]

No shit.

[ It's only when she asks a question of her own that he realizes how different she looks, to his eyes. Clothes too clean and too neat and too, frankly, new. There's only one place he's ever seen where people looked like that, and everyone there was either a soldier or some kind of doctor. She, obviously, isn't either. So there's a pause as he looks her over, considering his response. ]

Long story. Look, I need to get back to my friends. You know how?

[dramaquing]

[Seeing the way he acts, she feels like their situations are completely different. Which raises a whole lot of new questions. For the first time, she wonders if they're dead but the doubt is short lived: no. If she were, she would know, somehow.]

No. [And then, with a little shame.] I... I haven't tried.

[Her eyes are on the camera, a few feet away from them. She moves to pick it up. There must be a reason for it to have appeared on the pedestal, but she doesn't want to start randomly take pictures now, not that that guy in here.]

Have you looked around yet?

[a_7]

[ He tilts his head at the shame as much as the words, frowning. Hasn't tried? Why? Is there something she's running from, or hiding? Either way, not his job to pry, and the sense of urgency hasn't really left him, so he leaves it alone. ]

No. [ Which means he's giving the room a cursory glance. White, white, and more white, but what worries him more is that all the thresholds look the same. On that note- hang on, which of those doorways did he arrive from? He backtracks a few steps, glancing back at Max as a frame of reference. Is this the one? It should be. ]

Got anything to leave a mark with?

[dramaquing]

[At the question, Max looks down on her hip, where her bag should be, only then realizing that it's not there. She also notices she's not wearing the shirt she thought, but her red one.

Finally she starts collecting the pieces, accepting that this is definitely not a nightmare anymore Somehow this is the reality and it's fucked up.]

No. Chloe must be carrying my bag. [She murmurs, more to herself than to him.] But maybe... [She focuses on the empty pedestal. and after a few seconds, a black sharpie appears out of nowhere.]

Wowser... what the hell is this place?

[Ok, she's finally catching up to you, Minho.]

Sorry about that, I had a crazy week.

Right - Ressha Sentai ToQger - OTA

[lunchleader]

Minho | The Maze Runner

[a_7]

[ Minho comes into the white place at a run. He stops quickly, turns, alarmed, confused, looking around. ]

What the--?

[ His friends aren't here when they should be, and frankly, even just how white and clean and perfect this place is is weird. Catching his breath, he walks back to the threshold he came from. No dice though. Whatever brought him here isn't letting him go back the same way. Casting a glance around at too many similar and identical doorways, he checks his pockets for something, anything to mark this one with. Comes away empty. But looking at his hands gives him a solution anyway: he leaves a dirty handprint on the pristine doorframe.

Only then does he step toward the pedestal, examining it calmly. There's nothing on it now, but from here on out, Minho walks around the white, featureless room methodically, trying to find something, anything, any kind of way out, or way back.

To most anyone, he's just a teenager who looks like he's been dragged through about a desert's worth of dirt. His jacket is torn in places, singed in others, but he still moves easily. Exhaustion will hit him eventually, but not yet. ]

[limped]

[ He's already tired of this, it always seems to be test after test; all he is is a lab rat. ]

Hello?

[ The voice is one Minho will know rather well, Newt's been trapped in this place, looking for a way out. It's as bad as the bloody maze, if you ask him. Except he was alone, completely and utterly alone. There was no wall to try to throw himself off of, no grievers to contemplate ending it with. Just him, a pristine white room that seemed to go on for hours because Steph is making things up because she likes to, so sue her. He's tried everything he can think, the doorways seem to just be odd art pieces if anything.

The footsteps he hears, well, at first he thought they were imaginary, but then he saw him -- Minho. Pushing himself up from where he's been sitting, back against one of the doorways. ]

Minho?

[ He's dressed in his clothes from the Glade, and looks just as dirty as they had when they'd escaped it together, covered in griever guts, sweat, blood and dirt. ]

[a_7]

[ Too much space, not enough to go on. No ivy to leave in his wake. Every once in a while, Minho returns to the pedestal at the center, that and his handprint on one doorway all the landmarks he has. And then, from the opposite direction, he hears a voice. He almost thinks he's making it up, holds very still as he hears someone shift, the small sounds of cloth and skin and leather, and then-- ]

Newt?

[ And then it's not so important to understand this place, instead he jogs over, avoiding the doorways remaining between them, and gives the guy a hug. Never mind the griever guts. He's more relieved than he has words for.

It's not until Minho pulls away that it hits him that this is wrong. Something about this is wrong. He hasn't seen Newt like this since they made it out of the Maze, and that doesn't make any sense at all. Which means Minho looks him over with obvious confusion as soon as there's enough space to breathe between them.

That whole line of questions gives him a headache just to think about, though. He's not sure it matters anyway, because Newt is Newt, during or after the Glade, so he skips ahead a ways. ]

How long've you been here?