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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
You can't make everyone happy. You can't save everyone. Sometimes the damage is done. I guess all you can do is try, huh?
[Like most things in life. He was unsure what to think of the Iudex, before they'd met. He'd only heard things in passing. Largely praise, of course. He'd kept his opinion curbed until actually meeting the man.
Now that they were actually talking, not within a courtroom, not between the Opera and Meropide... He had a chance to see a different side of him. Less commanding. Thoughtful, even kind.]
I don't have much experience with your legal system, but I'd say it's better than nothing, too. People lie and cheat all the time. You'll never know every detail that happened. If it gives most people something to believe in, and can set the score straight for those who have been harmed, even after death... Maybe that's all it needs to do.
[It was an interesting juxtaposition, but Childe knew everyone had their facets. Neuvillette had shown that aspect of his role earlier, offering him a sort of compensation for the wrongful imprisonment, his role in forcing the Narwhal back into the Primordial Sea before it could hurt the civilians in the opera.
Making the system more fair... Childe's mind thinks back to the Oratrice..... Er. Whatever all those words were. How it had given him a different ruling than even Neuvillette had.]
Fairness, huh. So did you fix whatever was wrong with the. Oratrice...?
[He's sure he's saying it right. Childe is not going to attempt to repeat the whole name. He'd probably get banned from Fontaine, too.
It does make Childe wonder. If he hadn't been imprisoned, he probably never would have found the Primordial Sea. And then never have found the Narwhal that he'd been chasing. Maybe his being there was the intention.
He's not going to wonder why a machine would want that, or how it could have figured that one out. He's willing to chalk it up to pure coincidence. Or fate.]
no subject
[Thoughtful, at least, is a descriptor Neuvillette can feel confident in. He truly has rolled over these thoughts many a time, and even more so now, that the concept of justice without the supporting structures of the court hangs before him.
The question of what it means to judge the gods is one without precedent, after all.
At the mention of the Oratrice, a faintly wry look crosses Neuvillette's face.]
In a manner of speaking. The Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale was powered by the Gnosis of Hydro, which I forfeited to the Knave after the events of the flood. As such, it no longer functions, and the role of passing judgement at court falls entirely upon my shoulders.
[So, while it is not exactly 'fixed,' it is no longer a subject of concern.]
no subject
So the people really were gone. But... they couldn't be, right? Childe has trouble grasping the concept. Surely not, Neuvillette would have been a lot more sombre about this whole thing if they were all dissolved.
Neuvillette had a faint expression on his face, like he'd thought of something funny. There was something the other man knew but wasn't quite revealing, Childe is sure of it. And he's also sure that whether or not Neuvillette revealed it to him depended on how badly Childe wanted to know.]
So the prophecy came true, then. Fontaine flooded.
[Childe had spent the first week back in Snezhnaya asleep and recovering. Very little, if anything, was said to him about the state of Fontaine after his fight with the Narwhal. He'd assumed the Knave and her children more than capable of handling it. And given that she now had the gnosis...]
But you're still Iudex, and there's still court. So. What happened to the citizens, then? Is everyone alright?
[The redhead wonders what exactly happened, after he'd passed out. A glimpse of Skirk, after having desperately tried to enter the Abyss for years just to find her again. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with a nurse trying to take his temperature.
Childe's mind drifts back to the gnosis. It had powered the Oratrice, and had not been inside Furina or with Neuvillette after all.]
So the... gnosis declared me guilty?
[Or had it been Furina? She was a known stage actor.... But the gnoses weren't wholly connected to the archons that held them, right? They were passed from archon to archon.
His mind shifts to that strange guy in the wide brimmed hat that was also on the ship, the warnings about being careful with his family. Childe was not made for this weird political struggle between gods. He just wanted to knock heads together and get the daylights beat out of him for fun, and see how well he fared against each nation's most powerful warriors. Yes he wanted to see the Tsaritsa's plan through, but he had no real love for playing power games between nations.
The gnoses were somehow connected to... Celestia. And tied very deeply into the Tsaritsa's plan to topple it.
Maybe the fatuus' thinking was too grand. He was just another pawn to be used, after all, and everyone who ended up with his piece was more than happy to borrow it from the Tsaritsa for a bit. If he hadn't stayed in Fontaine, he wouldn't have been able to find the Narwhal. It wouldn't have called to him, if he weren't already close to the Primordial Sea at the time. It would have just attacked the city.
So he was being used by the gnosis itself. Maybe. Okay, yeah. He'd believe that.]