[Open] Headbanger's Ball / Heavy Metal Night

[drinkthebleach]

Who: OPEN TO ALL.
When: Saturday, December 3rd, from four P.M. to morning sirens.
Where: An abandoned warehouse in Sector 8.
Summary: That one zazzy event Pickles and D-Joe have been talking about.
Warnings: Adult language, loud music, alcohol and drug consumption, mentions of satanic imagery, eventual violence and NPC death, and anything else that

Comments

DJ

[drinkthebleach]

[A wider variety of recorded music will be played at this juncture. Everything you could think of on the heavy metal spectrum: Slayer, Sear Bliss, Black Sabbath, Metallica, Cannibal Corpse. A wide variety of bands with the glaring exception of Nu.]

Dethklok

[drinkthebleach]

[Pickles staggers over to the DJ station at some point. If his hammered status wasn't made clear by his glassy expression or the pink flush at the very tip of his nose, he cuts the music off for a second in order to plug his dethphone into the speakers. There's a certain playlist he made last night for this very occasion.]

[OOC: See here for references on the usual effects of Dethklok's music.]]

Dethklok

[madeinoblivion]

Hey! Hey, what-

[One aggro'd Joe Fieldman, fresh off the natural high of a crowd listening to whatever his thumb decides to punch into the mixer (and the secondhand high of...the haze currently wafting through the warehouse) tears off one side of his headphones and glowers at Pickles.

Since when was jacking his set without warning part of the game plan!

So as the speakers begin to wail with strange and melodious deth previously unheard in the Port, the tech at the soundbooth (currently ousted from playing poser DJ) clenches fists in righteous fury, ponders cutting the speakers, but-

His finger pauses on the volume sliders. Nah, the music is actually awesome. So he takes it up to the max, because if the subwoofers blow now, he can always just blame Pickles.

With that, he whips around and mouths over the deafening noise

'What's the big idea!']

Dethklok

[drinkthebleach]

[It might seem like he's ignoring Joe's righteous anger at first, but he just doesn't see it. Both his attention span and his vision are narrow tunnels at the moment, channeling all his energy into figuring out how to make the necessary hook-ups and get the results he wants. There's too many fucking wires. The wires just needed to fucking stop it.

But he knows he got it to work when he hears the orchestral opening to Dethharmonic--what he considered a strong opening to get the crowd warmed up.

It grabs Pickles, at the very least. Music was supposed to take you to a different place--or something gay like that. As soon as he heard the violins, he remembers the concert and Fatty Ding Dongs in crystal sharp detail. It's almost disorienting to hear Nate's voice again; then rock backwards and remember where he was.

Before he can react, he turns and sees Joe mouthing...something to him. He grins crookedly and waves.]

[madeinoblivion]

[In that moment he's tempted, really tempted, to just flick the speakers off. Button's just there, under his thumb.

And its good music, this is Pickles' whole gig-

But he was just starting to work the crowd up. Get into that settled, controlled, important feeling he hasn't quite had since DJ-ing at Club 24 on a packed Friday night.

Someone else just stole the show. How typical.

Annoyed, he flings down his own headphones, and storms off the audio console.]

[drinkthebleach]

[If Pickles were sober, or that state of inebriation where everything was numb and he didn't give a fuck, he would've let Joe storm off and probably thought it was funny. No such luck. Whatever combination of booze and drugs that was coursing through his veins at the moment (maybe seeing a crowd rock out to his band's music also had something to it), makes him feel giddy.

So Joe leaves, and Pickles bounds after him, catching up with him in what seems like only a few short strides--it might've been more. He announces his presence by giving Joe a friendly slap on the back.] Dude! Yer not leavin', are you?