redshiftlogs | september 2019. welcome to the void.

Entry tags:

september 2019. welcome to the void.

Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Third Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of September 2019
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.

Redshift: Welcome to the v͖͕̺̲̘̱̜͎o̴̦̣̠̦̘̹͞i̯̖d̛̪̬͈̱̦̝͍̕.

Click here to read what characters will experience when arriving in Anchor.

a. turrets.

That power surge kicked off some sh... stuff, all right. It took a while for the systems to cycle back on, but two new areas of Anchor are now accessible and usable. One of them is nice and relaxing and safe, and we'll get to that one in a minute. The other one, addressed first, is not very nice and not very relaxing and definitely not safe.

The internal defense systems on the upper levels have come to life, and have targeted anyone within their range as a hostile entity. Get ready to run the gauntlet if you want to turn them off - you'll have to dodge lasers, bullets, and aggressive defense bots (that can be rewired and/or rebooted to assist characters instead of trying to murder them). The reward? Getting to the heavily protected (think many many murderbots and lasers) security control room. If you can make it, you'll be able to reboot the internal defenses, turning off the aggressive targeting and having access for the first time to surveillance of almost all of Anchor. Those areas your characters didn't know were there? Revealed. Those dense patches of jungle-like growth in the agricultural center? You've got a spotlight into their heart.

Though, huh, not all the cameras seem to be working. What's with those screens that show up from time to time that are nothing but static?

Oh well, doesn't really matter, does it?

b. hot springs episode.

One of the areas adjacent to the bar and intimacy lounge has been sputtering on and off ever since the power surge. One evening, with a loud crack and a humming sound that slowly dissipates, the lights come on and water starts flowing down the artificial waterfall into the fountain out front. The spa is back online!

The lobby is inviting and zen, with holographic walls that depict scenic locations (some of them very unlike Earth), with fountains splashing delicately on either side of the door. The attendants are slightly malfunctioning bots, but the most harm they'll do is bring you six towels when you ask for one, or a bucket of massage oil to work on those knots in your back with.

There are three areas in the spa, each of them fully-outfitted with towels, robes of all sizes, fuzzy slippers, the works. One has all the amenities of a Turkish bath, right down to the fantastically arched roofs and mosaics of Istanbul. One is designed not unlike a Japanese hot spring, though the spring is heated artificially rather than naturally. The springs are large enough to be communal in some areas and small enough to be private in others, varying in depth from deep enough to swim on one end and shallow enough to sit on the bottom on the other. All hot springs have a stone shelf around the edges where those who don't want to swim can sit. The last area is more Western, with steam rooms, saunas, massage tables, and mud baths for the adventurous.

One thing all of these areas have in common: the settings on virtually everything can be adjusted to taste. Not in the traditional way, either. The steams and waters can be tweaked to be soporific, can serve as muscle relaxants, can ease anxiety, and can even bolster moods. None of these effects are involuntary, and none of them are brought on by drugs - it's more an advanced mix of pheromones and harmless compounds that can affect a single person or a given pool or room. Also, the baths and hot springs have adjustable bubble settings. The water colors can change, some of them even allowing characters to dye their hair the color that's been selected for the tub without staining their skin. Bubbles of all kinds can rise up out of the water, from the foamy comfort of childhood bubble baths to hovering golden bubbles that chime when you pop them. Characters can choose from a variety of bath salts, scents, and oils - the spas were designed not just for relaxation, but for pure and simple fun.

c. joe's dirt.

So you've survived the security malfunction. You've washed off the dirt and anxiety at the spa. But the newly reactivated security stations throughout Anchor have revealed something odd. There's a blip in the power systems in one area of the agricultural level, like something is siphoning off power from the main lines. Tracking down the source in the deep tangle of underbrush won't be easy, and there may be a few mutated, fanged, clawed cattle that maneuver shockingly well between the trees, but eventually you'll come to a breach in Anchor's wall. At first it just looks like a crack, but it's large enough to squeeze through and there's the darkness of an open space behind it. A tunnel, leading down into the earth outside, well below surface level and thus largely safe.
Wires run along the roof and floor, though the tunnel itself is dark. Walk long enough and you'll come to a wider space, open enough for two or three people to move around comfortably at the same time. It's still dark, lit only by screens that show the same security feeds that are available at the stations throughout the city. And others. Angles on the surface that show Anchor from a distance, and other visuals that don't show Anchor at all, trained instead on massive structures or formations or lakes out on the surface somewhere. But there's something more disturbing: there are cameras set to record some people's rooms. And the only rooms that are shown are occupied.

Someone has been here, recently enough to track where new people have moved in.

On the floor in one corner, there's a crumpled photograph of a man some might recognize as Creepy Joe, happy and whole, with a little girl sitting on his shoulder. It looks like it's been stamped into the dirt.

Navigation.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I do, yeah. Well, things similar to these."

He's not going to start explaining smartphones or laptops to this guy just yet. There are times and places to nerd out, and this isn't quite that time or place.

"Everybody here was brought through that portal, and I can guarantee that it was all just as confusing for us as it is for you. Oh uh, I'm Peter. Just-- before I start rambling about stuff."

"Oh."

He looks down at the communicator in his hand, feeling a little better about not knowing just what the device is and what it's for (aside from communication, presumably). Surely he isn't the only one coming from a place where the technology isn't quite as... peculiar, he thinks. He can't say he knows a great deal about tinkerers and their various constructs, given he's always gravitated toward the magical over the mechanical, but he's sure this would be advanced even for them.

"My name is Carlisle Longinmouth," he says finally, offering the lad as brave a smile as he can muster through his uncertainty -- it pulls slightly at the edges of his mask, but is otherwise hidden. "Though I suppose family names matter not in a place like this."

"Parker! I-- my name's Peter Parker. Family names totally matter. I mean, we don't really need it for like paperwork or anything? But, y'know."

He probably doesn't know, Peter.

Anyway, he's just gonna go back to trying to explain this communicator business because it's less awkward.

"So, um. You turn it on and off right here, see?"

No, he doesn't know, but Carlisle undoubtedly does feel importance in bearing his family name, or he wouldn't have sounded so morose at the thought of it not mattering. A part of him would feel free from the lineage behind it; however, it's his name, his family. He may be the only one left in it -- and only arguably, given his current state of undeath -- but it still belongs to him, and he can't help but want to keep any ties he can to who he was before... well.

He follows Peter's instructions, turning the device off. "I assume this conserves energy, though it does not seem to run on magic."

Lookin' pretty good for a dead guy there, my dude. Peter doesn't know about any of that name stuff, but he does know about this communicator.

"Nope, no magic. It's all technology up in here. But yes, turning it off conserves energy, and it's powered by a battery that can be recharged if it runs out of juice. Er, power. Now, you can use this thing to communicate with the other people who live here. If you push this here, it brings up your text option, here's audio, and this one is video. With me so far?"

He nods, though his look remains one of uncertainty.

"So... I could use this to talk to someone who isn't here. Like the mail. Or yelling."

"Yeah, pretty much! You can write a message to someone and send it to them with this, Or you can just talk to them with it. No yelling necessary."

He leans over to get a better look at Carlisle's communicator, "Oh, have you put in a username yet?"

Turning the screen so Peter can see it better, Carlisle gives him a sideways glance.

"Username? How is that different from a regular name?"

The communicator seems to hear him, a prompt coming up on cue.

"You can use your real name for it, it's just how we identify each other on the network."

Well look at that, bud! It's all ready to go. Peter steps back to give Carlisle a little room.

"There, you can put your name in now."

He looks down at the screen, which continues to ask for his username, and decides to just go with what is easiest for him, his fingers clumsily typing: longinmouth. The communicator seems to accept this, bringing him to the main menu. Those are a lot of options.

"I appreciate you taking the time to explain this to me," he murmurs softly, staring at his name on the screen, wondering if he still deserves to bear it. It may be all he has, but given what he is now, what he's done—

He cuts his thoughts off with more words, hoping to stifle them. "I- I have been here mere hours. It has been overwhelming thus far."

YEAH MAN YOU DID IT.

"Oh yeah, man, don't mention it. And trust me, we've all been there. Things are always totally overwhelming at first, but it's not too bad once you've had a chance to get used to it."

Even though Peter's been here a few months, he still finds things overwhelming. That's probably because he's constantly taking more projects than he can reasonably manage, but shh.

"Truly?" Carlisle asks, not expecting an answer. He clasps his device with both hands, trying to feel the surface through his gloves; what he can sense is dull at best, not picked up by his skin -- he has none left on his fingertips -- but felt through the disturbance of the energies that keep him animated. It's an odd way to have to parse what used to be a basic sense, and one he has yet to fully adjust to. He's used to detecting such tremors of energy due to his previous work as a healer, but this...

It's different. It's all different, and he doesn't like it. He's gone from trapped in a dying, cursed body with a hefty lineage to trapped in this undead frame in a new, profoundly alien world, and he has no idea if it truly has any potential to be better. The more he sees, the less optimistic he is.

Then again, that might just be his nature. He's never been one who leaned toward positivity. He has continued to exist out of necessity and determination rather than desire.

"Do you like this place?" he asks finally, pulling his eyes from his device to lay them upon Peter once more.

Peter actually has to pause to think about that for a minute. It's kind of one of those things Peter's actively been avoiding thinking too hard about, because y'know. Avoidance it totally healthy, right?

"I... I mean, truth be told, I'd rather be back home, but there are things about this place that I like. The people, mostly. There are a lot of good people here, and they're all pulling together to make this place as close to a real home as we can. I think we're doing okay so far."

Carlisle rubs at the back of his neck, hearing the hesitation in Peter's voice. He can't say he blames the lad. After all, he only wants to go home because he has work to do, amends to make for his existence, and home is familiar... or it used to be. What's left of Bear Den is hollow now, empty, long-abandoned; those who remained were doomed, and became shadows of their former selves, cursed to undeath just as he had been.

No, worse than cursed -- they were dragged into undeath by the Blight Heir. He was cursed; they were just unfortunate enough to be near him. He sighs, his frustration wearing into his brow. They should have listened to the old stories and superstitions, the ones that warned that the twice-cursed were the bringers of misfortune! Perhaps he should have done something about himself long before his first death. He knew it would end badly, but had never imagined was would become of his corpse -- what he would become because of his affliction. If he had known what would happen—

Shaking his head, he pulls himself from following that line of thinking too far. It's not productive, and it does nothing to serve his goddess. He couldn't have known then what he knows now. All he can do is try to make up for the mess he -- the Blight Heir made, make amends for those who suffered because of him. There is no proper way to bring back those already lost.

"I will have to ponder on what way I can help, if any," he admits. "I haven't much of a home to return to, and I have much to make up for."

Oh no buddy that's real depressing. Part of Peter wants to ask like, where this guy's from, what his home was like, but it's kind of sounding like it might be a bit of a sore subject? So he refrains for now.

"Well, uh... what kind of skills do you have? Like, even if you don't think it's important, I'm sure we can find some way to work with it."

Skills. Oh. Oh.

Carlisle hasn't yet put a great deal of thought into what he can do now. It's only been a few days since he awakened to find himself suddenly undead, and he spent little of that time stretching his energies to see what he was still capable of. Healing, he assumes, though given what he knows about restorative energies and how they counteract the necrotic magic that keeps undeads animated, he's almost certain that even if he can heal someone, he probably shouldn't for his own safety... unless he's animated in some other way. He can't say one way or the other until he really delves into himself, and he has been avoiding that thus far. He's just not ready to face the truth, no matter how obvious it is and how much it weighs on him.

One day. For now, he has other issues, ones he would much rather focus on than the fact he is an abomination whose existence goes against every moral stance he has ever had.]

I, er... I know a little alchemy. And glyphcrafting. [Neither of which are his primary skills, and the longer he tries to think on what talents he has other than healing, the more uncomfortable he becomes.] I did have a sizable garden back home.

Alchemy sounds like weirdo magic science and Peter is already interested. He'll come back around to that in a minute, though.

"Gardening, okay. We've got some people working on getting some crops going and stuff like that, I'm sure they'd love to have another pair of hands around to help out. I've uh, never heard of glyphcrafting before? And I'm not really familiar with alchemy. Uh, we do have lab space available, if you'd need that for it."

"I would prefer to work alone," Carlisle insists, fiddling with the communicator. "It's- it's not that I am incapable of working with others. I just... have reasons for my solitude." It was necessity before that isolated him, as his affliction was said to bring misfortune to those around him; now, he would prefer to work alone to avoid anyone getting too close and realizing what he truly is beneath all the layers.

"Speaking of privacy, where is it that the people here live? What constitutes as their homes? Or are they merely rooms?"

"Oh that's fine, we can probably find you something to do where you'd have more privacy."

He's not going to prod into this guy's personal situation or whatever. He doesn't want to be a RUDE boy. "Housing is on the lower level. They're like, dorm style rooms? I'm sure we have some that are totally unoccupied right now."

"Unoccupied is good," Carlisle remarks, wondering what a "dorm-style room" is supposed to be, ultimately deciding he'll figure it out for himself so as to spare Peter even more questions. He has so many already.

However, given the way the lad words it, he gets the feeling it's something about cohabitation. He'd prefer to avoid that at all costs, if possible.

"I suppose I should find my way there and see if I can secure lodging before the, er. Evening."

Other worlds have night, right?

SUUURE there's night. I mean there's like four suns so the NIGHT is probably as bright as the rest of the day? Maybe? I have no idea.

"Sure, sure. The stairs are right over there. Eventually someone'll get the lifts working again. Uh, want me to show you how you can contact me on that thing? That way if you have any questions, you can just ask any time you need to."

Carlisle may say nothing to Peter's mention of stairs, but the grimace he wears behind his mask as he glances in the mentioned direction is practically palpable, his eyes wrinkling as it stretches across his face. Maybe it won't be a long walk, but given how many levels this place seems to have, he's not optimistic. He can barely bring himself to leave the comfort of the nice, safe wall.

He sighs quietly to himself, looking back at his communicator. "If you don't mind sparing me another moment, I would appreciate that. I am sure I will have more questions, ones the man-in-the-glass did not answer." And could not answer, apparently, given he was some kind of visual record.

It's a bit of a hike, that's why Peter never takes the stairs. But then flinging yourself off the walkways and getting around with webs isn't really in the cards for everybody. Sorry, bud.

"Nah, I don't mind at all. Here, you wanna open this app right here and scroll through the names. Mine's under 'Spides'."

He kind of has a thing for spiders. It's not weird, you're weird.

"You'll be able to send me a text or video or whatever whenever you want."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

september 2019. welcome to the void.

I mean that's a fair point

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