Director B345T - Gold Paint = Ratings
Taj'el
((Performance Review - Highlight Reel Black Box, Deck 17, USPS Show Runner ))
The longer the review continued, the more convinced B345T became that the entire thing was a conspiracy. Not a large conspiracy. Not a particularly well-organized conspiracy. Just enough of one to inconvenience him specifically. Which, in B345T's experience, was how most conspiracies worked. The director sank deeper into its chair, arms crossed so tightly it looked physically uncomfortable.
B345T: So why does Miss Puppet Show get my stage and my actors? To do what? ::A dramatic gesture.:: A musical? A musical! Just because I showed they could sing! ::dramatic pause:: That was me! Nobody thought they could sing. ::pause:: I thought they could sing. ::heitated pause:: Well… I accidentally discovered they could sing. But that still was all me!
PR3ST1G: Yet you didn’t utilise that talent.
M217BS: This entire enterprise could be best summed up as “a colossal waste of talent.”
3X3CUT1VE: ::dryly:: A succinct description of how one can waste opportunity. ::Turning to the audience:: The Directors have spoken, now it is your turn.
B345T sank back into its chair with an exaggerated grumble. The sound was directed primarily at its own tentacles. A common occurrence. They were, in B345T's opinion, responsible for a surprising number of its problems. After a few moments of muttering, B345T suddenly sat upright. A new thought had entered its head. Which meant everyone else was about to hear it.
B345T: They were unknown! Nobody knew what they were capable of. ::beat:: I certainly didn't ...mostly. But I gathered those Earthlings. ::A broad gesture:: I put them on a stage, gave them opportunities. And I got a lot out of them ...your own shows would be nothing without my start.
B345T stood there for a moment after finishing its argument. For once, no immediate follow-up accusation arrived. No pointing. No dramatic claims of sabotage. No demands for justice.
Just a brief silence. The colorful director looked around the chamber. At the host. At the other directors. At the endless rows of faceless audience members. Then, surprisingly, it gave a small bow.
Not particularly deep. Not particularly humble. But enough to acknowledge that the floor no longer belonged to it. The director returned to its stool and settled into the seat. The chair creaked slightly beneath the dramatic flop that followed.
Its tentacles folded across its lap. The posture wasn't exactly dignified, but it was significantly more restrained than before. For the first time during the review, B345T actually listened, or at least appeared to.
PR3ST1G: It does seem unfortunate it ended that way, but that was not my fault.
M217BS: Yeah, seems like there’s a lot of that going around.
PR1M4 D0NN4: …::weakly:: But I really was sabotaged.
B345T: Save it D0NN4, none one going hear you out.
3X3CUT1V3: ::interrupting:: The scores are in.
The tally began to climb across the massive screen. Percentages flickered. Votes streamed in from the silent audience. The faceless figures remained motionless, but the numbers spoke for them.
B345T watched with growing suspicion. Then concern. Then offense. Then a level of personal insult usually reserved for stolen actors and damaged props. The numbers settled.
AUDIENCE DISAPPROVAL: 60%
The chamber remained silent. B345T did not. A low grumbling noise escaped from somewhere deep within the director. A noise that suggested it was actively searching for someone to blame.
M217BS: Tough break kid.
The smirk was subtle. That was what made it worse. Not exaggerated. Not theatrical. Not even openly hostile. Just a quiet, knowing curve of the mouth from 3X3CUTIV3, as if the outcome had already been filed, archived, and emotionally moved past.
B345T noticed it immediately. Of course it did. And for a brief moment, its posture tightened, shoulders rising, tentacles twitching with the familiar prelude of a very loud objection. But it didn’t stand, it didn’t shout, it didn’t launch into another defense of narrative integrity or actor competency or sabotage theory.
It stayed seated. The reason was simple. Those eyes. The gaze from 3X3CUTIV3 didn’t just watch, it evaluated in real time, like the consequences were already updating somewhere outside the room.
PR3ST1G: Interesting.
The shift in the chamber was immediate. As if the room itself had been waiting for this exact moment. The scoreboard dimmed slightly. The host’s presence remained still. The faceless audience did not move. But the focus of the entire review…turned.
M217BS: Bring it!
Clips from Scooby-Due Process came to life on the screen, playing for both the director and audience to review.
3X3CUT1V3: Scooby-Due Process is a procedural pilot created by M217BS starring several new talents along with an interesting companion.
The playback began without ceremony. Just the clean, clinical unfolding of M217BS’s production across the massive screen. But B345T wasn’t really watching it, not properly.
Its attention was split in a very specific, very familiar way. Ten percent observing, ninety percent waiting for the moment it could speak. Its tentacles were already slightly raised, ready posture disguised as relaxation.
PR1M4 D0NN4: …Did anyone else need subtitles for the show? ::look between them then to the audience:: Not only did the leading lady have a very distinct accent but I couldn’t understand the dog for the life of me.
B345T: The green-topped one and the one on all fours…Impossible to understand. They also look completely different from the other two Earthlings. ::beat:: Is this a forensic show? Or a monster movie? Pick one, man!
PR3ST1G: Response
M217BS: It was only because of me that we had all those willing actors in the first place!
PR1M4 D0NN4: Willing might be overstating it. ::Brow raised:: Mine kept trying to escape!
B345T gave a slow, satisfied nod at the screen. Finally! Someone was speaking sense. Well…mostly sense. It folded its arms with renewed confidence, watching the commentary unfold as if the universe had briefly corrected itself.
That alone already felt like validation. The review was finally aligning with reality, at least the version B345T preferred.
B345T: Agree, mine were far from willing.
PR3ST1G: Response
3X3CUT1V3: Your final defense M217BS.
M217BS: I can’t be expected to be a recruitment officer, director, and actor trainer for all of you. Maybe if you had made appropriate stitches in time…
3X3CUT1V3: Audience, it is time to score the director.
PR1M4 D0NN4: T-that’s it?
B345T gave a slow, dismissive shrug, as if the entire matter had already been resolved in its mind and everyone else was simply late to accept it.
Sometimes that was all you got. Sometimes more. But either way, it told itself, it would be fine. It usually was. Somehow.
The director leaned back into its chair with the exhausted confidence of someone who had decided the universe was mildly incompetent but ultimately manageable.
B345T: Maybe stop trying to get your tentacles in everything, M217BS.
The line landed cleanly. Too cleanly. The kind of accusation that didn’t need volume because it assumed it was already true.
PR3ST1G: Response
3X3CUT1V3: Some know when to accept what is to come and do not struggle.
M217BS: Response
The scoreboard updated again. A soft chime, almost polite, almost insulting.
M217BS - AUDIENCE DISAPPROVAL: 30%
B345T went very still. For about half a second. Then the sound came. A low, controlled growl that didn’t quite match anything natural or reasonable in the room. Not loud enough to interrupt the review. Just loud enough to be felt.
3X3CUT1V3: M217BS, the audience has decided. ::the human face twisted into a toothy grin that looked unnatural on the humanoid’s face:: As has N37W02K, for your dedication.
There it was, golden boy… why the ratings! Maybe if he painted M217BS in gold paint and made a show out of him, they would get a good score just because he was there.
This time the lights did not rotate, they immediately fell upon PR1M4 D0NN4. The screen turned to some kind of animated version as B345T laid its head back, already bored of everything and just wanting to do something else.
3X3CUT1V3: PR1M4 D0NN4, it is almost an offense to show the audience the animation disaster your team put out. Reused stock footage for previous shows, a cast you could not control…
PR1M4 D0NN4: I was carrying that show, the reused assets were not on the orders, someone cut corners on my crew while I was constructing the narrative, costumes, and correcting the errors that were emerging. Someone one staff had no idea what they were doing-
B345T had been bored, visibly bored. The kind of bored that suggested it was actively considering whether the review system accounted for “emotional disengagement penalties.”
The new girl was crying on screen. B345T barely reacted, a dismissive wave of a tentacle. Then…The screen changed. “BEHIND THE SCENES.” B345T snapped upright so fast the chair creaked.
Interest fully reinstalled, attention: 100%. Moral alignment… questionable. Onscreen, the footage shifted away from the performance and into raw production feed. No polish. No staging. No genre protection. Just the cast, unfiltered. It leaned forward like a predator spotting unsecured props. The new girl stumbled in frame.
PR1M4 D0NN4: Who is that!? I-I was sabotaged!!
After a few moments, the hood slipped and a humanoid looking girl, with a ridged nose, long black hair and a hint of a yellow and black uniform. Finally, the animators noticed, but not before the girl threw a mug of colorful liquid all over the devices.
Ekko: Balus kren!!!
The girl then fled the crime scene.
3X3CUT1V3: At the time that you chose to enter your show and collude with the officers inside, who clearly, played you. Their ally was sabotaging you the entire time and your crew incompetent to stop the intrusion.
B345T leaned back in its chair, still watching the behind-the-scenes footage loop for a moment longer than necessary. The fall. The scramble. The raw, unfiltered panic that wasn’t shaped by lighting, music, or genre expectations. It was, in B345T’s opinion, the most honest part of the entire production.
And honesty, in its framework, was often indistinguishable from entertainment value. A sharp laugh escaped it.
B345T: Ha! That’s great! ::breath:: Oh man…you suck.
PR3ST1G/M217BS: Response
PR1M4 D0NN4: I entered my show to save it from my lazy crew, not to undermine N37W02k… ::She looks at them fighting her bonds to use her hands to speak:: I felt a rush I hadn’t felt in ages, what if the audience could participate in their choice of stories! The rush of being with all these different species and engaging as one of them… to any of our shows! Thousands of hours they could not only watch but experience!!
PR3ST1G/M217BS: Response
The behind-the-scenes feed lingered on the aftermath a moment longer than it probably should have. The new girl still recovering her footing. A production trying very hard to look like it had always meant to do whatever just happened.
B345T watched it all with the relaxed confidence of someone who had already assigned moral meaning to it.
B345T: Was this like your first show, D0NN4? ::beat:: It’s not that hard to make them act their parts.
It leaned back immediately after saying it, like the statement had been casually dropped rather than fired. The spotlight wasn’t on it anymore. Which, to B345T, meant consequences were optional. So it settled into that comfort. Arms loosely crossed. Posture lax. Expression somewhere between bored and pleased with itself.
PR3ST1G/M217BS/PR1M4 D0NN4/3X3CUT1V3: Response
B345T gave a slow, almost satisfied nod as the raw feed continued to loop. It had stopped being merely “content” now. It had become evidence. Not of failure, B345T would never frame it that way, but of process. Messy process. Other people’s messy process.
B345T: I struggled with actors…but never to this extent. ::pause:: And I didn’t let anyone into my stage area. That’s rule one! ::beat:: Well. Rule two…Rule one is don’t lose the PADD. ::The stolen PADD briefly re-entered its mental complaint index, then was dismissed again for efficiency:: Still…Kudos for the raw feed though.
That line landed differently. Not mockery, not an insult, almost professional acknowledgment, almost. It leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing as if evaluating technique rather than chaos.
PR3ST1G/M217BS/PR1M4 D0NN4/3X3CUT1V3: Response
[[TAGS/TBC]]
Director B345T
Amazing Best Producer,
USPS Astrachthoni Ship
T240211T14