![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Aug. 3rd, 2012 01:05 amWe've said before that there really isn't a headspace. This isn't completely accurate.
Our first headspace was a tree that looked different depending on who looked at it. For J it looked like a sort of robot tree, and while away from front he had limited abilities over it through a process not unlike the Doctor working on the TARDIS. For Pandora, it was furred over in black and white moth-like eye patterns. I think the tree sort of represented the system's psychic nervous system, and by manipulating it we could sometimes effect things like our habits and urges.
A few months ago we sort of remodeled through an extended series of consensus meetings, facilitated by the Lalondes over a period of weeks. We haven't seen or done much with it since then, at all. The blueprint we settled on was basically a Greek island, one of the ones with the white houses everywhere, and we had more ambitious plans to set up things like an economy that we never got around to for obvious reasons.
I should explain something else. We don't really see ourselves or each other in headspace. There, we exist in the same state of blend that we do everywhere else. We experience headspace in the first-person, and it's a limited first person. In our dreams, we have serious physical limitations. Most obviously, our punches pause in midair and never connect with their target, as though they're being repelled by a powerful magnet. Often, when we try to yell, no sound will come out. Generally speaking, our movements feel like we're moving in slow-motion, and we have a very hard time turning our head. Although we did extensive research on the subject of lucid dreaming in the body's youth, we've never heard of anyone having a similar problem.
To be frank, our actions within headspace are even more limited. I (Rose Lalonde, as of the last paragraph, for the record) suspect the phenomena to be related. We do have abilities in headspace that we don't in reality, though, or that other people report having a difficult time with, though. For instance, we can shift perspective without moving our heads. We can look at a building behind us and even zoom in. We can also take part in limited actions in reality without those actions dispeling our involvement in headspace.
I haven't tried language, largely because I have no reason to suspect that anyone in headspace has use of it. This is probably a huge oversight on Sibyl's part, and something I'll make a mental note for her to do.
These limitations probably explain why we haven't done too much with headspace. Under these conditions, it's difficult to get much done in the way of exploration or satisfying interaction.
Tonight, though, Sibyl was able to give it a brief visit. Although there are deviations from the original blueprint, the basic concept seems to have been created faithfully, having drawn significant inspiration from the Sonic Unleashed level Apotos, which in fairness is based on the Greek island of Mykonos. There were multicolored Christmas lights.
We were in what appeared to be an outdoor dining area, although we knew intuitively that the actual dining function hadn't been planned. The thought didn't occur at the time to see if any of the other tables actually had people at them, but we did find one NPC, who was a member of a race of mushroom people who we'd planned to include in an RPG we'd partially planned out when we were about fifteen. I suspect that the rest of the NPC's will be members of this species, too, although I could again be wrong.
Our stay there probably lasted less than five minutes. We basically just took in the atmosphere.
I do wonder, also, if our increased satisfaction with our life in reality is contributing to the accessibility of our headspace.
Making a mental note to ask Jewel about this.
Our first headspace was a tree that looked different depending on who looked at it. For J it looked like a sort of robot tree, and while away from front he had limited abilities over it through a process not unlike the Doctor working on the TARDIS. For Pandora, it was furred over in black and white moth-like eye patterns. I think the tree sort of represented the system's psychic nervous system, and by manipulating it we could sometimes effect things like our habits and urges.
A few months ago we sort of remodeled through an extended series of consensus meetings, facilitated by the Lalondes over a period of weeks. We haven't seen or done much with it since then, at all. The blueprint we settled on was basically a Greek island, one of the ones with the white houses everywhere, and we had more ambitious plans to set up things like an economy that we never got around to for obvious reasons.
I should explain something else. We don't really see ourselves or each other in headspace. There, we exist in the same state of blend that we do everywhere else. We experience headspace in the first-person, and it's a limited first person. In our dreams, we have serious physical limitations. Most obviously, our punches pause in midair and never connect with their target, as though they're being repelled by a powerful magnet. Often, when we try to yell, no sound will come out. Generally speaking, our movements feel like we're moving in slow-motion, and we have a very hard time turning our head. Although we did extensive research on the subject of lucid dreaming in the body's youth, we've never heard of anyone having a similar problem.
To be frank, our actions within headspace are even more limited. I (Rose Lalonde, as of the last paragraph, for the record) suspect the phenomena to be related. We do have abilities in headspace that we don't in reality, though, or that other people report having a difficult time with, though. For instance, we can shift perspective without moving our heads. We can look at a building behind us and even zoom in. We can also take part in limited actions in reality without those actions dispeling our involvement in headspace.
I haven't tried language, largely because I have no reason to suspect that anyone in headspace has use of it. This is probably a huge oversight on Sibyl's part, and something I'll make a mental note for her to do.
These limitations probably explain why we haven't done too much with headspace. Under these conditions, it's difficult to get much done in the way of exploration or satisfying interaction.
Tonight, though, Sibyl was able to give it a brief visit. Although there are deviations from the original blueprint, the basic concept seems to have been created faithfully, having drawn significant inspiration from the Sonic Unleashed level Apotos, which in fairness is based on the Greek island of Mykonos. There were multicolored Christmas lights.
We were in what appeared to be an outdoor dining area, although we knew intuitively that the actual dining function hadn't been planned. The thought didn't occur at the time to see if any of the other tables actually had people at them, but we did find one NPC, who was a member of a race of mushroom people who we'd planned to include in an RPG we'd partially planned out when we were about fifteen. I suspect that the rest of the NPC's will be members of this species, too, although I could again be wrong.
Our stay there probably lasted less than five minutes. We basically just took in the atmosphere.
I do wonder, also, if our increased satisfaction with our life in reality is contributing to the accessibility of our headspace.
Making a mental note to ask Jewel about this.
