Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Zaril Dovek (Communications Officer) in Main-Sim: Mess Hall, Food for the Hungry

Posted by Gamemaster OZ (GM) in Main-Sim: Mess Hall, Food for the Hungry

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Zaril Dovek (Communications Officer) in Main-Sim: Mess Hall, Food for the Hungry
Zaril found his way to the Mess he was starving, he had not been this hungry for many months. It was impacting his ability to hold his emotions. In fact while most people in the room felt calm and happy when he entered the room, anyone within arms reach as he past also suddenly felt hungry. He looked around for something to eat.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zaril Dovek
Communication Officer U.S.S Sentinel

The Mess Hall was quiet, tucked between shift changes. A few crew members were scattered at the tables, heads down over PADDs or mid-meal, conversation minimal. The overhead lights cast a soft, even glow across the space, and the low hum of the ship’s systems filled the silence beneath a soft instrumental track cycling from the ship’s cultural archives.

The food slots lined the far wall, each blinking green: Ready for input. Nutritional options scrolled in gentle rotation across the interface—vegetable stew, protein loaf, isoberry tarts, Earth-standard chicken with rice, and several regionally tagged specials from the day’s menu queue.

Lieutenant Dovek’s stomach tightened. The hunger had not passed. If anything, it was worse now—gnawing, insistent, as though his body had been depleted by days rather than hours without food. His hands felt faintly unsteady. His focus flickered.

The scent of warm starch and umami wafted from the tables, sharpening the ache in his gut.

-OZ
Zaril looked over the menu. His hunger now projecting into the room, he was so hungry he was having a hard time managing his emotions. He grabbed the vegetable stew and went to a table by himself and ate, it was gone quickly and he grabbed a second and went ant sat down again.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Zaril Dovek
Communication Officer U.S.S Sentinel

The second bowl returned empty to the tray with a soft clink, a smear of broth clinging to the rim.

Steam no longer drifted from the table, and the sharp edge of urgency that had filled the air moments before seemed to soften. The background music transitioned to a mellow Vulcan string composition—barely perceptible, but steady. At a nearby table, a crewmember resumed reading without glancing up.

The food slots blinked green again, quietly awaiting the next request.

Across the Mess Hall, the gentle rhythm of the ship continued undisturbed.

-OZ