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redshiftlogs2020-01-01 03:38 pm
modblob) wrote in redshiftlogs2020-01-01 03:38 pm
Entry tags:
- !mod post: intro mingle,
- asoiaf: arya stark,
- assassin's creed: ratonhnhakéton,
- dctv: mick rory,
- ffxv: noctis lucis caelum,
- hunger games: finnick odair,
- marble hornets: brian thomas,
- mcu: peter parker,
- original: athena parker,
- original: carlisle longinmouth,
- overwatch: hanzo shimada,
- red dead redemption: charles smith,
- red dead redemption: kieran duffy,
- samurai jack: scaramouche,
- ssss: onni hotakainen,
- star wars: kylo ren,
- tales of symphonia: zelos wilder,
- umbrella academy: ben hargreeves
january 2020. welcome to the void.
Who: Everyone in Anchor.
What: Seventh Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of January 2020
Where: Around and outside the city.
Warnings: Please add any warnings in the subject lines.
What: Seventh Introductory Mingle
When: The Month of January 2020
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. champagne supernova.
Normally, the changes in the sky are subtle, happening between glances or over the course of days.
That's not the case now, when the bright sky with its three suns is wiped away in an explosion of blue light, right at sunrise on the morning of January 1st. The light pulses across the sky in uneven blazes, sending out lattices of what might be lightning or something worse. There's no moon. No brightness. Just this lightning-storm brilliance in space, shedding little light on the world below.
And the suns don't come back on. As the day wears on, the supernova brightness in the sky starts to fade out and no new light appears. The sky is static and black, with no stars, no moons, no suns. The mild rolling blackouts that started with the opening of the relaxation room intensify with the sudden loss of solar power, as the backup systems try to compensate for the increased use of power.
For a moment, power goes out in Anchor entirely, leaving the place plunged into darkness.
The darkness doesn't last. Thanks to those generators everyone worked so hard to sort out, the backup systems struggle back to life, keeping the lights on and the bar, kitchen, and agricultural supports open, but there are some things that the limited power just can't cover.
That's not the case now, when the bright sky with its three suns is wiped away in an explosion of blue light, right at sunrise on the morning of January 1st. The light pulses across the sky in uneven blazes, sending out lattices of what might be lightning or something worse. There's no moon. No brightness. Just this lightning-storm brilliance in space, shedding little light on the world below.
And the suns don't come back on. As the day wears on, the supernova brightness in the sky starts to fade out and no new light appears. The sky is static and black, with no stars, no moons, no suns. The mild rolling blackouts that started with the opening of the relaxation room intensify with the sudden loss of solar power, as the backup systems try to compensate for the increased use of power.
For a moment, power goes out in Anchor entirely, leaving the place plunged into darkness.
The darkness doesn't last. Thanks to those generators everyone worked so hard to sort out, the backup systems struggle back to life, keeping the lights on and the bar, kitchen, and agricultural supports open, but there are some things that the limited power just can't cover.
b. tower of babelfish.
The first, and perhaps the most noticeable system to start failing, are the auto-translation programs. While not affecting every area in Anchor equally, communication between those who speak different languages is going to be a lot more difficult. The effects are spotty, coming and going, sometimes completely failing, leaving only people's naturally-spoken languages available. Sometimes it just struggles, making conversations sound a lot more like babelfish translations than recognizable speech. People themselves seem to be affected differently by the translation struggles, depending on who and where they are. There's no rhyme or reason to when and how it fails. But the problem persists through most of the month.
c. the hidden passage.
The second system failure is harder to spot.
At the end of what seemed to be a maintenance hallway, a set of doors have appeared from behind what used to be a shielded hologram of a dead end. The doors stick out from their surroundings: thick metal, barred heavily from the outside. A clear attempt to keep something locked away inside, not to keep people from entering.
For those adventurous enough, or foolish enough, to wrestle the locks open, a problem will reveal itself. A short flight of stairs, leading down into an area flooded by murky water. It's hard to see more than branching halls down below.
Those who choose to brave the water will find a hallway lined with bulkheads and sealed doorways, all guarding rooms that could be accessed with the right combination of smarts and brute force. It's the question of what would be ruined by the water if the doors are opened that might give people pause. What kind of secrets could be wiped out or destroyed if the doors are forced and the water passes through the bulkheads? Can the water be drained? How?
But there is one room open, or mostly open, where the bulkhead doors didn't quite manage to seal when the area flooded. It'll be a squeeze, for bigger characters, but the flooded room beyond contains artifacts preserved behind glass - strange medallions, strings of glowing beads, broken sceptres, arrows fletched with feathers from creatures no one has ever seen before.
Only one object isn't sealed away. It's a handful of small orbs, with shifting colors, held in place by a shield array that still seems to function, for the most part. They can be touched, can even be removed from the stand with the right know-how or a willingness to smash stuff.
But once an orb is touched, the colors start to spin more rapidly. The more it's handled, the brighter and faster the colors shift. Whether it takes hold immediately or not is up to you, but those who handled the orb will find the bright colors start to glow under the surface of their skin, in the shape of veins, glowing bright for a few minutes before fading. And those people bring a different kind of contagion back with them to the surface. Memory loss, communicated from one person to the next via contact. It can be partial or complete, or not happen to your character at all - they can be an unwitting "carrier" of the effects, passing it on without experiencing the losses themselves. The loss can last from hours to weeks, with carriers being "infected" for the duration of that time.
It also leaves behind magical traces, ones that don't fade after memories return. The cleverest might start to wonder if it wasn't a kind of inoculation, though against what, it remains to be seen.
At the end of what seemed to be a maintenance hallway, a set of doors have appeared from behind what used to be a shielded hologram of a dead end. The doors stick out from their surroundings: thick metal, barred heavily from the outside. A clear attempt to keep something locked away inside, not to keep people from entering.
For those adventurous enough, or foolish enough, to wrestle the locks open, a problem will reveal itself. A short flight of stairs, leading down into an area flooded by murky water. It's hard to see more than branching halls down below.
Those who choose to brave the water will find a hallway lined with bulkheads and sealed doorways, all guarding rooms that could be accessed with the right combination of smarts and brute force. It's the question of what would be ruined by the water if the doors are opened that might give people pause. What kind of secrets could be wiped out or destroyed if the doors are forced and the water passes through the bulkheads? Can the water be drained? How?
But there is one room open, or mostly open, where the bulkhead doors didn't quite manage to seal when the area flooded. It'll be a squeeze, for bigger characters, but the flooded room beyond contains artifacts preserved behind glass - strange medallions, strings of glowing beads, broken sceptres, arrows fletched with feathers from creatures no one has ever seen before.
Only one object isn't sealed away. It's a handful of small orbs, with shifting colors, held in place by a shield array that still seems to function, for the most part. They can be touched, can even be removed from the stand with the right know-how or a willingness to smash stuff.
But once an orb is touched, the colors start to spin more rapidly. The more it's handled, the brighter and faster the colors shift. Whether it takes hold immediately or not is up to you, but those who handled the orb will find the bright colors start to glow under the surface of their skin, in the shape of veins, glowing bright for a few minutes before fading. And those people bring a different kind of contagion back with them to the surface. Memory loss, communicated from one person to the next via contact. It can be partial or complete, or not happen to your character at all - they can be an unwitting "carrier" of the effects, passing it on without experiencing the losses themselves. The loss can last from hours to weeks, with carriers being "infected" for the duration of that time.
It also leaves behind magical traces, ones that don't fade after memories return. The cleverest might start to wonder if it wasn't a kind of inoculation, though against what, it remains to be seen.
no subject
Well maybe they oughta learn. I had to.
no subject
[ He nods at first, brow creasing faintly. ]
Or, maybe someone who knows how rough that life is would want to keep others from living it, too. Instead of paying that kind of hurt forward.
no subject
Yeah, the whole social worker spiel, do unto others, whatever. The only people I'd be keeping from it are adults like you who probably haven't gone without for a day in their lives.
[ She crosses her arms, rocks back on her heels. Glares up at him. ]
Why should I trust any adult here to give a shit about me? I take care of myself.
no subject
It's not about them. Or me.
It's about the ones who don't know what sleeping on the cold ground is like. Worrying about whether or not you're going to wake up with a knife to your throat or a gun to your head. The ones who don't know what it means living apart from everyone else, not having a place in the world.
[ Dark eyes lock with hers for a moment, intent, before he shrugs again. ]
You could leave a mark on their lives, too. Doesn't have to be one you regret, later on.
no subject
He knows. He knows what it's like.
Her defensiveness can't stand up to that. She keeps her arms crossed, but now she can't quite look him in the eyes. ]
People who don't know what it's like....
[ She can't get her thoughts around the resentment, the jealousy. In her commune she can convince herself that being on the street is about freedom. She can even be happy, with the others around.
Athena chews on her lip for a moment, trying to organize her mind. ] They think they're so much better. Like their way is the normal way, the right way. Like we're the fucked up ones for not being a part of a world they make sure we don't share.
[ She's glaring at the floor between his feet now. ] The only mark I wanna leave on them is piss.
[ She turns her glare on him. ] I'll leave the food alone. But I'm doing it for you, not them. And the minute anyone starts to talk about rationing I'm busting in here and taking what I want.
no subject
[ Maybe that's by design. The ones that don't belong drift from world to world, until they find wherever they fit. Maybe that's what all of this is about. He can't begin to wrap his head around any of it.
But he knows that squabbling among themselves makes it a lot harder than it has to be. Would for her too. He'd rather not see that. ]
Anyway. You need food, or we start running short for any reason, come find me. I'll make sure you get what you need.
[ A hand is offered out to her, well-calloused, with rough scarring along the back. ]
Charles Smith.
no subject
She shakes his hand, eyebrows going up as she notices the scars. ]
Athena Parker. What happened to you, anyway? You look like someone tried to put you through a wood chipper.
[ A pause. ] No offense.
no subject
Some people didn't like me much, and sometimes I gave as good as I got. You start collecting these after a while.
[ Knives, bullets, burns. Broken glass. Broken bones. A lot could happen, but he'd still managed to walk away from that life more intact than others. He's not going to start complaining now. ]
Used to run with a pretty wild bunch. That didn't help matters.
no subject
We mostly keep our nonsense from like... getting violent, or something. So I've only got a couple of those-- [ She gestures to the scars on his hands. ] --and they aren't from my friends anyway. They happened before my parents ever kicked me out.
no subject
[ He chuckles briefly, though there isn't too much mirth behind it. 'Tired' is a good descriptor for it, come to think of it. ]
When'd you get here?
no subject
[ It sounds a little distracted--she's thinking about her friends, about where they ended up. About the ones who ran, and the ones who got caught. Using magic on unconsenting people is serious shit. She swallows, a knot pulling itself tight in her throat.
She's glad she's here and not in a holding cell. ]
This place is crazy. Crazy in a good way.
no subject
[ She's not wrong. But he's started learning to take all this in stride, after a while. Why not also this impossible thing, on top of so many others?
She doesn't seem all that distressed. Given what little he's gleaned, that's not a surprise. Charles tilts his head thoughtfully. ]
What sort of world did you come from? Earth, or somewhere else?
[ Time is a factor too, of course. But he'd set down money she's not from his time, or any time before it. ]
no subject
Earth, yeah. Like. My Earth, anyway. We sure as shit don't have people like Spider-Man around.
[ A pause, marveling again. She shakes her head. ]
What about you?
no subject
[ Because that's a thing too. Not everyone is from the same time, even if they're all from the same place. ]
It was 1899, when I left. Just coming on winter.
no subject
Somehow, believing he's from 1899 is harder than believing Peter is from a version of Earth where superheroes exist. Because Peter himself is proof of that world, that fact. But what proof does Charles have? ]
But you're so chill with all of this! Did like, was science fiction even a thing in 1899?
no subject
[ He looks amused for a moment, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ]
Besides, I've been to places like this before. The last place was a city, with cars and televisions and transport pods that took you to other planets.
After a while, you just accept that there's a lot you don't understand. If those things exist, anything can. You stop feeling surprised, after a while.