“YOU ARE BRAVE, TO ENTER MY ABODE SO WILLINGLY.”

[RP blog variant for my Commander Tartar ask blog @humanitys-last-call !] [I deem all interactions NON-CANON unless stated otherwise.]

[commanders-quarters]

Muse Info

(copy-pasted from a page on the ask blog. huzzah!!!!)

This, dear readers, is the vessel you know as Commander Tartar. Its other preferred monikers include but are not limited to: The Telephone, the Messenger Of Humanity, and Denewiah Tartarus- the last of which being its self-given name. Commander Tartar is considered more of a stage name by it, so if you wish to address it more properly, you would ideally call it Mr. Tartarus or simply Denewiah. Despite the informality of being on a first name basis with strangers, he welcomes it, for whatever reason.

Info regarding him will be given sparingly, as I believe the ask blog should do much of the talking as it progresses.

He is exactly 12,008 years old at the time of writing, is addressed with both “he/him” and “it/its” interchangeably though he is entirely genderless, and he stands at a staggering 18 feet tall. 

Its body was painstakingly put together by the three Elite Octolings that survived the blast dealt to the NILS statue, and most of the army aside from them was utterly wiped out.

He would not go as far as to say he HATES the Inkfish species, but he does not feel charitably towards them either and considers them largely lost potential. Has more good things to say about Octolings, but he disdains Inklings and much of what they stand for.

Tartar still plans to wipe out the Inkfish and sow the seeds that will bring about the second-coming of humanity, but it’s still recovering from the losses of its previous defeat.

A trump card may fatefully present themself to him, once the time is right…

[j0vialjester]

half-assed acht ref for a friend hashtag yolooooo #thuglife #swag

[commanders-quarters]

Ancient technology should have never looked so pristine. Untouched by time. The rays of light that basked the telephone betrayed nary a scratch or a dent upon its surface.

Decades to decades, centuries to centuries it had lived— and yet, your eyes would not know it. You would never guess all it has ever seen and all it will live to see. You knew nothing of the inkshed that marred its visage just the day before. The atrocities committed by its clutching cables were little more than fairytales. Even so, fairytales were all one could depend on by the time they’d appeared before the telephone.

A call could be made by opening up its face and dialing the number. A call could be listened to through the speaker that stayed tucked close to its right side. A call could be prolonged by speaking through the funnel attached below its eyes. But if someone attempted to talk to the phone itself, that was how it parsed out the nobodies from the potential candidates.

At their question, it beeps, giving one soundless rotation of its hand crank before regarding them. The thing was waking up and stretching, it seemed.

“[SEARCHING FOR USER ID…]” Its head began to whir steadily as it searched for a match.

Such an unusual voice it had. It sounded like it was speaking Octarian, but certain inflections sounded like they were missing. Nuances to the pronunciations that were strangely absent. It was as if its vocal synthesizer was programmed of a different tongue entirely. Not to mention it sounded notably robotic.

“[USER NOT FOUND. REGISTERING FACIAL DATA TO EXISTING DATABASES.]”

There’s a litany of clicks and chirps that emerge from its internals. Whatever process was taking place now, the Octarian didn’t have much of a say in it. Suddenly, the noise fades. The telephone is still. The metal spine it’s perched upon creaks from stress as it leans forward, perhaps an inch. Just enough to notice.

The ancient machine never blinked. Never turned its gaze away. But someway, somehow, it felt like it was intentionally staring now. Instead of answering their question, it opted to propose one of its own, sharp-edged tone smoothing out:

“What is your name?”

[breakbeatperfect1on]

Acht kept a watchful eye as the telephone sprung to life in front of their eyes. It must not have been as ancient as it looked, given the way it was moving on its own. And somehow, despite the fact it didn't seem to have any visible cameras... Acht couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching them.

That seemed to be the case, as it announced its intention to record their face. They got the same twinge they always did in the presence of cameras, putting a hand to their shades to double check that their eyes were covered. It wasn't as if they were afraid of surveillance; nobody would care enough about them to be looking for them. But being seen always made them feel uneasy.

"My name?" They weren't sure why they needed to give their name to get directions to the surface, but everything worked weird down here. "My name is Acht. How do I get to the surface?" they repeated, trying to speak clearer this time in case they weren't understood before.

[commanders-quarters]

“The promised land.” it interjected— corrected— pointedly.

Apparently that discrepancy took priority over the question itself, which it had to be selectively ignoring at this rate. The telephone still appears to be sizing them up for a few more seconds, before it remembers its own personal space and crooks its spine back into its previous position. The speaker hooked to its side gives a restless putter— clearing its throat, as if it had just come upon an impossible revelation it found most crucial to share.

“Acht.” the object confirmed the input aloud.

And this, by a mile, was the most organically it had pronounced something thus far. A hiss of effort was still present. It was less accustomed to the specific language the name hailed from, but the era of origin wasn’t that far off. The name— no; the word felt familiar to it. The telephone knew what it meant, at least, and it meant something useful. Its inner machinery begins with a low whir again.

“[REGISTERED FACIAL DATA TO USER 888. DESIGNATION TO USER 888: ACHT]”

The whirring dies down just like before. It beeps a few times, loud and sharp. Enthused and involuntary. It was fascinated by these developments. This was so fascinating. The concrete scrapes underneath the Telephone as it… scoots closer? As if a magnetic pull had just bound it to the sullen-eyed Octarian.

“The promised land is not accessible to just anyone. The light extends its invite to all, but one must prove themself worthy before they may appear before its grace.” it spoke.

Its voice was monotone, but its chassis had begun to quiver as it informed them.

Scoot. Another inch.

“You must participate in a series of physical and mental aptitude tests first, in order to prove yourself worthy of accessing the promised land. One must be truly exceptional to succeed. Anything that falls short of that will not be sufficient.”

Scoot. Another.

It’s trying to stare straight into their eyes; the ones they seemed so keen on obscuring.

“You accept this, yes?” it asked, though it was less of a question and more of an assertion.

[breakbeatperfect1on]

plotted starter for @commanders-quarters

Acht was completely, utterly, hopelessly lost. They'd been riding this train so long, they'd lost track. All the scenery was new and unfamiliar, but it certainly wasn't the surface. If anything, they were going down from where they started. Should have figured I'd screw up running away, too.

They did have one clue, though. The little blue sea slug, he'd given them vague instructions on how to reach "the promised land": depart the train at the central station and ring the telephone, and receive more instructions there. It was the best lead they had to go on. Certainly better than sitting here riding in circles, at any rate.

Acht adjusted their bag over their shoulder as they stepped onto the platform. At least there was no question of which telephone he meant; that certainly was the telephone. They approached cautiously, not entirely sure how this ancient technology worked. "Hey. Am I in the right place? I'm looking for a way to reach the promised land."

[commanders-quarters]

Ancient technology should have never looked so pristine. Untouched by time. The rays of light that basked the telephone betrayed nary a scratch or a dent upon its surface.

Decades to decades, centuries to centuries it had lived— and yet, your eyes would not know it. You would never guess all it has ever seen and all it will live to see. You knew nothing of the inkshed that marred its visage just the day before. The atrocities committed by its clutching cables were little more than fairytales. Even so, fairytales were all one could depend on by the time they’d appeared before the telephone.

A call could be made by opening up its face and dialing the number. A call could be listened to through the speaker that stayed tucked close to its right side. A call could be prolonged by speaking through the funnel attached below its eyes. But if someone attempted to talk to the phone itself, that was how it parsed out the nobodies from the potential candidates.

At their question, it beeps, giving one soundless rotation of its hand crank before regarding them. The thing was waking up and stretching, it seemed.

“[SEARCHING FOR USER ID…]” Its head began to whir steadily as it searched for a match.

Such an unusual voice it had. It sounded like it was speaking Octarian, but certain inflections sounded like they were missing. Nuances to the pronunciations that were strangely absent. It was as if its vocal synthesizer was programmed of a different tongue entirely. Not to mention it sounded notably robotic.

“[USER NOT FOUND. REGISTERING FACIAL DATA TO EXISTING DATABASES.]”

There’s a litany of clicks and chirps that emerge from its internals. Whatever process was taking place now, the Octarian didn’t have much of a say in it. Suddenly, the noise fades. The telephone is still. The metal spine it’s perched upon creaks from stress as it leans forward, perhaps an inch. Just enough to notice.

The ancient machine never blinked. Never turned its gaze away. But someway, somehow, it felt like it was intentionally staring now. Instead of answering their question, it opted to propose one of its own, sharp-edged tone smoothing out:

“What is your name?”

[commanders-quarters]

let it be known that anytime a dj dedf1sh/acht rp blog interacts with me in any capacity i get like an evil cheshire cat grin on my face....... 👹

[commanders-quarters]

"It has been rather quiet around here. Disturbances have been few and far between as of late. I would have to personally attribute this to the progress that has been made in my training regimens these past few months."

"Some soldiers were far too docile. An Inkling could simply stroll straight past them, assuming they made little noise. Granted, that was not a guarantee; many squids have remained largely unaware of the existence of sanitization, and so some would be naïve enough to attempt conversation with my specimens."

"Regardless, I have repurposed some of these inferior soldiers, and have begun cracking down on those who remained. I do not like having to step in and herd the flock myself-- as I am already an incredibly busy machine-- but sometimes my captains do not pick up the slack. Sometimes they need a firm hand. After all, one cannot lose sight of the light they are meant to follow."

[mr-telephonedenwatartarsauce]

DENIZENS OF THE DEEP, LISTEN UP! CEO of KAMABO. CO speaking. As the deep sea metro expands, it has come to my attention that many of you might have questions or concerns regarding to the future of Deep Sea Metro, or eventually, the Midnight Zone.

AS EVERY RESPONSIBLE CEO WOULD DO, THE SUGGESTION BOX FOR KAMABO CO. IS NOW OFFICIALLY PUT IN USE! Please utilize this new feature responsibly, and DO NOT SEND IN ANYTHING UNIMPORTANT! Call rate applies. We do not accept Cash.

If you have any trivial issues, please forward them to my associate @ask-cqmuku !

Rules for asking:

-BE CIVIL

-BE NORMAL

-FOLLOWS THE RULES OF THE DEEP SEA METRO OR YOU WILL BE PUT ONTO POTENTIAL CANDIDATES FOR... TESTING.

-This blogs opinion does not reflect OP'S

-Commander Tartar is shipped with Cq Muku, the ask blog mentioned above run by my gf! Please try to limit asking other ships. However you can feel free to ask smash or pass questions.

Roleplay Tags:

Ongoing Call: In character posts

Voice Message: OOC notes

[lapis-memes]

If you have any ideas for headcanons, plots, or relationships for our muses, now's the time to share! Send in ✏️+ your idea(s), and I'll give you my thoughts!

[underesources]

ASTROLOGICAL HEADCANON MEME.

some various character analysis questions based off of space &&. the bodies that inhabit it. feel free to edit as you see fit.

[ MERCURY ] is your muse good at communication ? can they hold a proper conversation, or are they always finding an excuse to avoid small talk ?

[ VENUS ] how does your muse handle love ? do they believe themself to be deserving of it, and how capable are they of loving others ?

[ EARTH ] how grounded is your muse ? are they logical and straightforward, or are do they always have their head in the clouds ?

[ MARS ] when your muse gets angry, how does it show ? do they know how to control it, or do they let it consume them ?

[ JUPITER ] how does your muse see morality ? what do the words good and evil mean to them ?

[ SATURN ] is your muse all work and no play ? do they let responsibility consume them, or do they allow themselves breaks from time to time ?

[ URANUS ] can your muse handle change ? do they accept it with open arms, or will they try anything they can to make sure things say the same ?

[ NEPTUNE ] does your muse dream frequently ? if they do, what kind of dreams (or nightmares) do they have ?

[ PLUTO ] what is your muse's relationship with individuality ? do they feel that they need permission to be themself ?

[ CERES ] does your muse take care of themself ? do they neglect their needs to put others first ?

[ PALLAS ] how perceptive is your muse ? can they pick up on things other people don't ?

[ CHIRON ] what does your muse do to cope ? are their coping mechanisms healthy, or do they lean into bad habits to get through tough times ?

[uniiicornsources-old]

Send 🍁 + any question you've been curious to know about my muse

Could be absolutely anything. Don’t be shy!

[commanders-quarters]

"It perturbs me to know that there exists so many of me. Not in the sense that I feel intimidated-- as one would be naive to even suggest such a thing-- but in the sense that I am now woefully aware of all of the unpredictable variables that have since entered the equation. The more threads there are within the spool, the greater the odds of an unsightly knot coming to fruition."

"Thankfully, there are minimal overlaps within the threads so far. Only a few of them have come into contact with me, and that is a relief. I can only withstand so much disappointment at one time, truly. I am yet to encounter a counterpart that I find particularly promising..."

"Perhaps that will change in the near future. But I won't hold my metaphorical breath. Hah."

[commanders-quarters]

I drew Galaxy!

I THOUGHT I REPLIED TO THIS OOOOPS answering messages telepathically is NAWT good enuff..... anyways AWWWW I DIG THISSSS the colors of the dress and heels work better with the sanitized colors than i would expect!!!!! 😁😁😁😁

[commanders-quarters]

OOC: It's you! Hello! I had been planning on fixing up Galaxy and Poppy(then got into Daleks) How are you!

HELLO! i will admit ihave seen better days BUT im very happy to be playing around with splatoon stuff again at long last. :-)

here is a wip i just stopped working on for now! wow it is quite long haha look at that guy. ive sort of redesigned my tartar's outfit too but i wont be sharing that yet, for now u guys just get the endoskeleton revision LOL

[commanders-quarters]

OH MY GOD YOU ARE BACK HI HELLO

uh ,, you may not remember me because it was a while ago but uh .. do you mayhaps remember a sanatised octoling called Rufus ?? the poet lady ?? because uh ,, that was me !!

but I dont really play her anymore .. one because I stole their name when I transed my gender and two I kinda have some silly new ocs now .. looks from side to side .. drops my rp blogs and then runs off

( @runaway-employee and @anen-moe )

( heads up i havent actually done much with talia / anen so if you wanna rp with her she may not be as polished as runaway/marnie ,, sorry about that 💔 )

DUDE OF COURSE I REMEMBER YOU!!! THAT WAS LIKE THE FIRST THREAD I EVER CONCLUDED ON THIS ACC 😭🙏 IT WAS VERY FUN AND SOMETIMES I STILL REFERENCE IT WHEN WRITING THE COMMANDER

anyways yeeees i shall keep these accounts in mind 💭…… much thanks

[commanders-quarters]

Do you have ANY hobbies besides being evil and doing evil things

There's a few sputtering squeaks, like a malfunctioning drill, accompanied by the bubbling of the ink on its visage. It could be equated to a giggle.

"You juveniles with your fairytale notions of good and evil... It is utterly impossible to please you." he remarked sardonically.

Tartar adjusts on its heels, bringing a gloved hand up to its 'chin'. To your credit, he actually had to think about what he would consider his hobbies. Leisure and pleasure weren't exactly priorities for him.

"Assuming your obtuse verbiage still lends me an earnest desire to learn, I would say that my hobbies are unearthing and listening to human-era vinyl records, cataloging and sorting the cassettes I possess of human-era footage, polishing my antiques, attending the concerts of a... business associate..." it drones on.

His arm groans as he lowers it abruptly.

"That is, of course, granted that I actually find the downtime to do any of these things."

[commanders-quarters]

HI EVERYOOOONE!!! i am strongly encouraging WHOMEVER THE EFF CARES to send me interactions and/or rp starters 😁 i am slowly getting back into splatoon and i want to write with our dear commander some more but i am. rusty!!! i need to get back into the swing of things!!!!! and YOU gotta HELP US!! 🗣️ /hotel mario reference

i am a #serious roleplayer though FEEL FREE TO COMB THRU ME BLOG FOR EXAMPLES 😋 so dont be alarmed if i reply with like five paragraphs. Ok?

anyways Yeah itches my butt and walks awayy

[commanders-quarters]

Mr Tartar,,,, would you eat me if I said I would like to help you in your plans and submit myself to you?

To say the commander looked perplexed was an understatement.

He just stood there and stared. It wasn't sure that it heard you right. It tilts its head-- slowly-- as if the motion would ease the words into proper order within its linguistic processors.

"Would I consume you... if you revealed that you would like to aid me in my mission and surrender yourself to me?" he repeated lowly, like he wanted to reaffirm the fact of the question's existence.

The stray wires looped by his head bunched together while his internals whirred and churned thoughtfully. Parsing your tone and intentions is proving to be more difficult than it thought. Even so, Tartar took his time to consider the possibilities. Could you be of any use? Were you truly volunteering to be sanitized? Now that was an exciting rarity in these parts. Eventually, though, it clasps its hand together in front of its lap, attempting a professional appearance in spite of its now overactive strings of calculations.

"That depends. Can you follow orders? Can you fight? Can you keep secrets? Can you open your mind to the light?" he listed off.

Denewiah's lenses squeak from suddenly shifting to focus on you.

"If the answer is 'yes' to all of the above, then I believe we will get along just fine. If the answer is 'no' to any of these, however, then I assure you my docility will be much more... conditional."