NationStates Jolt Archive

((OOC: There's a bit of mild language in this, but only to stay in character with certain people. It shouldn't really offend anyone, but here's a disclaimer to keep the mods off my case. I love you all! ;) ))
IC:
"I'm assuming you're all wondering why you're here."
These were the words that Harriet Miller, President of ResiCorp's marketing department, spoke to the group of junkies, pretty boys, stoners, sluts, and other mediocre-at-best musicians assembled in the meeting room opposite her office. It was a fair assumption, as each one of the bands these people belonged to obviously, in layman's terms, sucked. They had no idea why a megacorporation like ResiCorp would pay them for their music, although the majority of them didn't really care. It would be money in the bank if they got accepted, serious money.
"Well, I'll tell you why you're not here: your tallent."
No one was really surprised, although it left them wondering why she had called them in the first place. A few of them acted offended, to which Miller returned her signature "cut the crap" stare.
"This should surprise no one," she continued, "you're all horrible. However..."
"Bitch, please," one of the so-called junkies interjected, "are you just going to fucking slam our music all day, or are you going to tell us why we're here?"
"I'm going through a routine, and you're just making it take longer," Miller replied, matter-of-factly, "anyway, AS I WAS SAYING, we don't need your music. However, we need your faces."
People looked around, surprised, and offering various thoughtful insights such as "what the fuck?" and "is this chick for real?".
"Yes," she continued, "I am 'for real' here, we intend to use you as poster boys and girls to market your respective styles of music, although the songs will be ours."
The "musicians" had quieted down by now, a few of them seriously considering her offer.
"We'll give you a fashion coach, lip-sync lessons, a songwriter, and even coriographers for those who need 'em. All you have to do is be a pretty face or pretty clevage for your, excuse me, our albums. We'll practically GIVE you money for just a handful of photos of you and a few live appearances. Who's interested?"

((OOC: Here's your opportunity to RP as a member of a band of any type, preferably from your nation, who is faced with a huge moral decision like this one. Trust me, this meeting's just the beginning.
Oh, and no is just as legitimate an answer as yes. Remember that.))

"Dude, what will be in these songs? Political propaganda?" Said a long, tall elf from the back.

Erendal Silmessi was 335. A modest age for an elf. He had spent most of his life attempting to make music for the lower echelons of society; problem was, that his "fans" didnt take a liking to his music. He smuggled himself onboard a cargo freighter until he was found and they kicked him off at the nearest available planet: Terra. His singing skills werent exactly the epitome of greatness, but his face on the other hand..... He started to rap his knuckles on his palm and awaited an answer.....

ooc: Harriet Miller eh? Sounds familiar somehow.

Steven Logan was a 25 year old drummer. "Ok, what to you want us to play" he said.

"Dude, what will be in these songs? Political propaganda?" Said a long, tall elf from the back.

Erendal Silmessi was 335. A modest age for an elf. He had spent most of his life attempting to make music for the lower echelons of society; problem was, that his "fans" didnt take a liking to his music. He smuggled himself onboard a cargo freighter until he was found and they kicked him off at the nearest available planet: Terra. His singing skills werent exactly the epitome of greatness, but his face on the other hand..... He started to rap his knuckles on his palm and awaited an answer.....
"Political Propa..." Miller started, "Hell no! What do you take us for? They'll just be uncontroversial songs for the most part, with maybe one or two that are a bit different than what's in the mainstream, just to get people's interest. All we want out of this is money, that's it. No brainwashing at all."
Steven Logan was a 25 year old drummer. "Ok, what to you want us to play" he said.
"You're forgetting that you won't be playing anything, Mr. Logan," Miller said, turning in his direction, "But we'll have you 'play' whatever kind of music you think suits you."
She stood up and looked around the room, from face to expectant or sneering face. It reminded her of her job as a schoolteacher before she immigrated to the Resi Corporation; all those eyes on her, not a one of them honestly knowing what was next.
"Now then, anyone else have any questions?"

ooc: Harriet Miller eh? Sounds familiar somehow.((OOC: Yeah, I know. I can't quite place it either. Most of my character's names aren't original, like Emery Oglethorp, Washu, and even Jai (who shares his name with one of the 'Queer-Eye' guys) all have their names borrowed from somewhere.))

ooc: She is or at least was a local politician... mayor or congress or senator. Good for the role anyway.

Dave Jeager sqeezed the neck of his jazz guitar when he heard Miller make her proposal. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he really needed some money as a struggeling Jazz and Blues artist, 28 years of age.

He sighed.

"I guess I'm in. How much do we get paid?"

"So how much would I be expected to show, and how much money?"

Jill Chen piped out from the back. She did some Christian music before this band and while she thought cleavage was alright, she was a bit worried about the rest.

A tall Russian man stepped foward from the back, he was dressed in gold chains, rings, and a pimp hat.

"Yo fool." He said, note his accent is insanely Russian. "When do I get my ice, I wanna chill with some ho's."

OOC: That good enough? ^