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pluviosa2024-02-14 09:13 pm
pluviosamods) wrote in pluviosa2024-02-14 09:13 pm
Entry tags:
GAME OPENING LOG
GAME OPENING
There's still dripping everywhere, and the gurgle of standing water shifting and draining to somewhere further down...
... But the sound of the rain outside has stopped. And you haven't heard the thunder in a while.
Take a moment. Look out the windows, the glass doors leading out to the balconies - the world beyond is lighting up. Mountains stand out against the distant eastern horizon, breaking up the first of the sunlight into scattered beams. The ship chases that light, running eastward towards the glow of dawn. Its motion is easier to bear now that the storm is over - the wind no longer tries to blow it off course.
You've survived the night - survived the storm. You get the feeling it won't be the last.
The storm abates over the course of the night - by midnight, it's dropped back enough that water and wind are no longer forcing their way through the bubble barriers, and by about an hour before sunrise - just when the sky is starting to get light - the rain has stopped completely. The clouds persist a bit longer, giving characters a spectacular sunrise to look at. When the first rays of the sun are visible over the mountains, any characters still affected by hallucinations feel their minds clear.
Fifteen minutes after dawn - about when it's getting to be a pain to look directly in the direction the ship is travelling because of the sun directly in the eyeballs - characters who are sensitive to electricity may sense the power kick back on. It's just in the wires and cables spread throughout the ship, however - the lights don't turn on, although the elevators do.
Five minutes after that, there's a crackle that is audible to all characters, from speakers spread throughout the hallways and rooms of the ship. Not every speaker is functional - some of them just continue to emit static instead of the message that follows - but enough of them are that every character will be able to hear a single piercing beep, followed by an artificial voice in an androgynous tenor:
"ALL PASSENGERS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE AFT LOUNGE ON DECK R-ZERO FOR A HEADCOUNT."
There's silence for a moment, and then another, quieter alert beep, and the same voice adds, almost as an afterthought,
"Please follow the emergency lighting in the hallways for guidance."
After that announcement, strips of lighting on the ceiling of the hallways - the lights are also on the floor, but even after the rain has washed so much dirt away, you're unlikely to see them anywhere except close enough to the stairs that you don't need them - light up. They begin to move in a pattern of diodes that leads characters to the staircases and elevators near the back of the ship, in the somewhat drier part of it that has more decks above the one where characters woke up.
The stairs are now navigable - even if there's still a decent amount of water flowing down them, not entirely contained by the channels cut into the outside of the turns of the staircase - and the elevators are now powered. Well, sort of. Although the elevators have power, the buttons inside do not - all of them are dark. Instead, the elevators automatically move characters upwards after they enter, depositing them on deck R0 for the indicated headcount.
Other than the increasingly large number of confused "passengers," however, there doesn't seem to be anything here. Some furniture in varying states of decay, sure, and puddles and debris from the storm's flooding, but no indication of humans or any other form of sapient life. The space is wide and open, and decently well-lit even with the overhead lights off, since the majority of the walls to either side appear to be made of glass.
Once everyone has assembled - or at least everyone who is willing to come, as nothing forces characters do follow instructions from a strange voice - there is another crackle of speaker feedback. At least there's no blaring alert tone to start this message.
"THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION."
The voice is the same as before - and anyone from a semi-modern world would be able to tell, from the pattern of speech, that this is a synthesized voice, not a real person, or at least not a real person willing to reveal themselves to be such. It speaks entirely in the language characters discovered knowing when they woke up here. The volume of the voice decreases somewhat after the initial announcement gets everyone's attention, but it is still audible to everyone.
"Please excuse the inadequate accommodations. Your arrival was unexpected. This ship has not entertained new passengers in 317 years, 6 months, and 19 days."
"We will do our best to prepare appropriate accommodations as quickly as possible. However, the immediate priority is to supply passengers with meals and other appropriate provisions. Please accept this with our sincerest apologies."
At the close of those words, the elevator doors to either side of the lounge area open, and self-propelled carts - the kind you might see in industrial kitchens - roll out. Their lower shelves are stacked with bowls, cups, and those plastic utensil holders filled with spoons, while the upper halves are full of food and drink. Specifically, the majority are full of cafeteria pans of oatmeal, the kind with the metal lids that keep the heat in. In addition to the oatmeal, there's a wide variety of raw fruits and vegetables, and some additional options for throwing in your oatmeal such as cinnamon, honey, both brown and white sugar, shaved almonds, and other things that can be made from plants and stored for a long time. There are also two carts at either end full of hot drinks - one of tea, one of coffee - and one each of cold drinks such as fruit juice. There do not appear to be any meat or dairy offerings, although there's both almond and soy milk for your coffee if you can tolerate the substitutes. (It tastes somewhat metallic, like it was dehydrated for a long time, but the coffee and tea themselves taste quite fresh.)
Once the carts have wheeled themselves out, the voice continues from the speakers.
"In order to better serve our passengers, we would like to ask you a few questions. First: What is your locale of origin? Second: Why have you come?"
For OOC questions about this event, please use the OOC Questions header in the comments below. To respond to the Ship's questions, or ask it some of your own, please use the Talk to the Ship header. Otherwise, this post is a mingle, and players are encouraged to post their own top-level comments for their characters and reply to each other.
Following this post, simple food will be available in this area during "active" hours, starting from around dawn to two hours after sunset (the ship's days, at least at present, are about evenly divided). At night, the food carts roll away into one of the restaurants around the edges of this area. Instead, wheeled dumpsters with grabbing attachments collect up the old furniture and cram it into themselves, and starting the second night, 'new' furniture takes its place, mostly dining tables and chairs of various sizes.
Characters now have theoretically full access to the ship; however, the elevators are only mostly functional as debris is cleared from them. The rear elevators go all the way up the residential levels, but only as far down as deck 3. The front elevators only move between decks R0, 0, and 1.
More information on the schedule of shipwide upgrades will be available on the event plotting post in a few days. Until then - at least it's dry weather and smooth sailing for a while?
... But the sound of the rain outside has stopped. And you haven't heard the thunder in a while.
Take a moment. Look out the windows, the glass doors leading out to the balconies - the world beyond is lighting up. Mountains stand out against the distant eastern horizon, breaking up the first of the sunlight into scattered beams. The ship chases that light, running eastward towards the glow of dawn. Its motion is easier to bear now that the storm is over - the wind no longer tries to blow it off course.
You've survived the night - survived the storm. You get the feeling it won't be the last.
The storm abates over the course of the night - by midnight, it's dropped back enough that water and wind are no longer forcing their way through the bubble barriers, and by about an hour before sunrise - just when the sky is starting to get light - the rain has stopped completely. The clouds persist a bit longer, giving characters a spectacular sunrise to look at. When the first rays of the sun are visible over the mountains, any characters still affected by hallucinations feel their minds clear.
Fifteen minutes after dawn - about when it's getting to be a pain to look directly in the direction the ship is travelling because of the sun directly in the eyeballs - characters who are sensitive to electricity may sense the power kick back on. It's just in the wires and cables spread throughout the ship, however - the lights don't turn on, although the elevators do.
Five minutes after that, there's a crackle that is audible to all characters, from speakers spread throughout the hallways and rooms of the ship. Not every speaker is functional - some of them just continue to emit static instead of the message that follows - but enough of them are that every character will be able to hear a single piercing beep, followed by an artificial voice in an androgynous tenor:
"ALL PASSENGERS, PLEASE REPORT TO THE AFT LOUNGE ON DECK R-ZERO FOR A HEADCOUNT."
There's silence for a moment, and then another, quieter alert beep, and the same voice adds, almost as an afterthought,
"Please follow the emergency lighting in the hallways for guidance."
After that announcement, strips of lighting on the ceiling of the hallways - the lights are also on the floor, but even after the rain has washed so much dirt away, you're unlikely to see them anywhere except close enough to the stairs that you don't need them - light up. They begin to move in a pattern of diodes that leads characters to the staircases and elevators near the back of the ship, in the somewhat drier part of it that has more decks above the one where characters woke up.
The stairs are now navigable - even if there's still a decent amount of water flowing down them, not entirely contained by the channels cut into the outside of the turns of the staircase - and the elevators are now powered. Well, sort of. Although the elevators have power, the buttons inside do not - all of them are dark. Instead, the elevators automatically move characters upwards after they enter, depositing them on deck R0 for the indicated headcount.
Other than the increasingly large number of confused "passengers," however, there doesn't seem to be anything here. Some furniture in varying states of decay, sure, and puddles and debris from the storm's flooding, but no indication of humans or any other form of sapient life. The space is wide and open, and decently well-lit even with the overhead lights off, since the majority of the walls to either side appear to be made of glass.
AT THE CAFETERIA
Once everyone has assembled - or at least everyone who is willing to come, as nothing forces characters do follow instructions from a strange voice - there is another crackle of speaker feedback. At least there's no blaring alert tone to start this message.
"THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION."
The voice is the same as before - and anyone from a semi-modern world would be able to tell, from the pattern of speech, that this is a synthesized voice, not a real person, or at least not a real person willing to reveal themselves to be such. It speaks entirely in the language characters discovered knowing when they woke up here. The volume of the voice decreases somewhat after the initial announcement gets everyone's attention, but it is still audible to everyone.
"Please excuse the inadequate accommodations. Your arrival was unexpected. This ship has not entertained new passengers in 317 years, 6 months, and 19 days."
"We will do our best to prepare appropriate accommodations as quickly as possible. However, the immediate priority is to supply passengers with meals and other appropriate provisions. Please accept this with our sincerest apologies."
At the close of those words, the elevator doors to either side of the lounge area open, and self-propelled carts - the kind you might see in industrial kitchens - roll out. Their lower shelves are stacked with bowls, cups, and those plastic utensil holders filled with spoons, while the upper halves are full of food and drink. Specifically, the majority are full of cafeteria pans of oatmeal, the kind with the metal lids that keep the heat in. In addition to the oatmeal, there's a wide variety of raw fruits and vegetables, and some additional options for throwing in your oatmeal such as cinnamon, honey, both brown and white sugar, shaved almonds, and other things that can be made from plants and stored for a long time. There are also two carts at either end full of hot drinks - one of tea, one of coffee - and one each of cold drinks such as fruit juice. There do not appear to be any meat or dairy offerings, although there's both almond and soy milk for your coffee if you can tolerate the substitutes. (It tastes somewhat metallic, like it was dehydrated for a long time, but the coffee and tea themselves taste quite fresh.)
Once the carts have wheeled themselves out, the voice continues from the speakers.
"In order to better serve our passengers, we would like to ask you a few questions. First: What is your locale of origin? Second: Why have you come?"
OOC INFO
For OOC questions about this event, please use the OOC Questions header in the comments below. To respond to the Ship's questions, or ask it some of your own, please use the Talk to the Ship header. Otherwise, this post is a mingle, and players are encouraged to post their own top-level comments for their characters and reply to each other.
Following this post, simple food will be available in this area during "active" hours, starting from around dawn to two hours after sunset (the ship's days, at least at present, are about evenly divided). At night, the food carts roll away into one of the restaurants around the edges of this area. Instead, wheeled dumpsters with grabbing attachments collect up the old furniture and cram it into themselves, and starting the second night, 'new' furniture takes its place, mostly dining tables and chairs of various sizes.
Characters now have theoretically full access to the ship; however, the elevators are only mostly functional as debris is cleared from them. The rear elevators go all the way up the residential levels, but only as far down as deck 3. The front elevators only move between decks R0, 0, and 1.
More information on the schedule of shipwide upgrades will be available on the event plotting post in a few days. Until then - at least it's dry weather and smooth sailing for a while?
no subject
He's never seen someone quite this... short, he thinks. There's an urge to sit there and pick apart all the little details and weave them into a verbal portrait, but he's alone. So he doesn't. There's an awkward sound in his throat(?) before he decides to respond.
"That would be the case for most here." Wouldn't it?
no subject
Well. Mario can't argue there. "Yeah, that's true. There's a lot of people in this room I haven't run across yet - what's your name? I'm Mario." Oh stars, is there oatmeal in his hat, too? Embarrassing.
no subject
"John." Oh, that. Feels weird. Weird? Hm. It feels something, and he doesn't have Arthur to talk him through it. There's an awkward sort of curling through the fluttering tatters of robe as he shifts backward just a bit. He'd technically introduced himself a few times to Arthur as things changed, but it's a very different thing with a stranger. The mask's serving a few purposes now. "I think I've spoken to only a few of them, myself, navigating the ship in the dark."
no subject
"Looking at it now... You know, there's a lot less of us than I thought. What is this, a dozen people?" He turns away from scanning the room back to John. Nice name. "It's not going to be hard to get acquainted with everyone at all... Which is to say, nice to meet you! You wouldn't happen to have any ideas about the Ship, would you?"
no subject
"At best," John agrees, though it comes out like a murmuring rumble as he glances back to the people scattered across the deck. Some still trying to talk to the ship, some poking at what meager offerings of food the ship provides, some... just off on their own, almost. But that odd feeling's back with the conclusion of the introduction, and John can only incline his hooded head, suddenly unsure how to continue.
Mario gives him an out with a question, at least, and he can put his attention there.
"None." And doesn't he sound miffed by that, clearly scowling behind that mask. "Only that it doesn't know how to fucking communicate outside of questions." Which, isn't that fun? (No. No, it is not.)
no subject
"I know Ship said-a something about terminals...? So I suppose when one of those gets-a working we can use that to talk to it. Not sure when that will be, though."
i need to make a grumpy icon so badly
...Yes, John is in fact thinking of train terminals. No, he is not aware of what else a terminal might be.
no subject
no subject
"A what?" This is going to get complicated, probably.
no subject
"It's-a like a machine? It'll probably have a screen and buttons that will let you interact silently with the ship." Is that anything. Mario hopes it is.
no subject
He makes a thoughtful, if somewhat doubting sound. Not that he's doubting Mario here, but he's not so sure about the method of interaction. It sounds... lacking. Though "unlikely", perhaps, is a better word.
Is it just the shadows cast by his hood or is the mask arching a brow?
"Do you... have a better description than that?"
no subject
"Ah... let's-a see..." He's mumbling to himself. "The screen - it's-a like a TV? - the screen will display words. And the buttons will let you select options, or let you type words, so you can communicate with the Ship without having to yell at it - probably."
He knows he's seen a terminal or two around... But none of them were in working order, so other than conveying the shape to John, it wouldn't be much help. And he's not sure he wants to go on a trek to hunt one down, nor if John is that invested.
no subject
Nope. "Screen" in his mind is linking to panels of something he could best approximate to silk dividing spaces, set into a frame. "TV" is meaningless to him. His head tilts and a frustrated rumble builds in his chest. Stop using words he doesn't know!
Not helpful. Arthur'd chide him for patience. Fine. He holds up a hand as if it'll stop the tide of useless information, the other lifting to press to the brow of his mask.
"Type", he understands. "Buttons" he, well, expects to be used in the sense of "keys" in context of "type". He isn't sure how a fucking screen fits into this, though.
"...What does it look like? Instead of how it works. Shapes, colours—none of what you've been saying means anything." There's still that edge from the growl he'd been working up to, but it's smoothed out about as well as a child's mostly-made bed.
no subject
Mario's not good with words, is the thing. And describing technology someone else has never seen before is definitely hard mode. He lets out a long breath, trying not to be frustrated with himself. John has a point, anyway.
Okay. Deep breath. Mario steadies himself, and turns his body more towards John.
"Screen is-a like a square." He holds up his hands, both making an L-shape, and with them pantomimes a square-ish shape in front of his face. "It's-a glass..." He thinks it's probably, possibly, glass, "...that will-a display pictures, or text, or. Things."
It doesn't even occur to him to pull his smartphone out of his pocket, with its perfectly functional screen and all.
"And then attached to it will be a... buttons with letters, so you can write your own text." He is describing a computer, at this point, more than the ship's supposed terminals, which may not look exactly like this. "And then I-a guess you can talk to Ship by writing questions and reading its answers? Or maybe there will be buttons you can press to make it show maps, or things."
Mario does not seem entirely certain, but he's determined anyway. "...that any good?"
no subject
Very different to that abomination. No paper or carriage at all on this, from the sound of it. The glass serving in its place? No ink... Based on what's described, at least; it would be difficult for it to use ink if glass were involved. Key strikes would surely make the glass crack. So another method, then. Other worlds and their differing developmental paces and points of accomplishment, after spending the time he has in partial possession of a human body, feel like distant concepts. Of course, nothing stops them from existing even if he doesn't recognize what their words are.
"Enough, at least." John's not sure any further attempts are going to make it any clearer, honestly. He'd just have to find one to get a better idea. His temper's settled, at any rate; the explanation's given him something to think about, something to look out for that's more than a few nonsensically ordered letters and sounds. At least he knows he wouldn't be left reeling like certain individuals he can think of might.
"You've seen something similar before." Easy guess, given the strange-word comparison given earlier.