thisavrou_log | ( march intro log )

Entry tags:

( march intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: March 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Ceta
What: The crew finds themselves on the planet of Ceta
Warnings: Potential sci-fi creature death. Please label your content!

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by the inquest
"Arguments on their nature are refuted by those who return to shore, wide-eyed with tales of their savagery."

All Moirans are woken to the sounds of the ship coming to a rather grating halt some time in the early morning cycle. It’s no faster or slower than any other stop, but it is unexpected as the captains didn’t mention an upcoming disembarkment. Shortly after, a message is sent to every MID:
Navigation has informed us that we’re approaching bad traveling conditions: an overactive star. Instead of stopping on Liant El, we’ll be docking here on Ceta. Please exercise caution while gathering supplies and during excursions. Follow their safety guidelines. If the chance allows, we’ll also be signing new crew on the planet. Please greet them first and show them to the ship. Thank you.
The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar.

For those few who come through Ceta's Ingress, there will be crew of the Moira there to greet you. They tell you of the Ingress, how it is broken, even on this planet, and that the ship is headed back to the origin of this technology. This planet’s Ingress is set precariously atop a floating rock formation, the only way from one area to the next is on small air-propelled boats. Crew members will guide everyone back to the Moira and take them to the Medbay; contracts will be signed posthaste.

WELCOME TO CETA

At first glance, Ceta seems mostly inhabitable, and that's because it is. The atmosphere around the planet is surprisingly thick in most places, sometimes thin in others, and without some way to filter the air, it is mostly unbreathable; it's a giant gas planet, its core made of various molten metals and the atmosphere a mix of oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrous. Ceta's gravity is also uneven, meaning that some areas will have stronger focal points than others. The terrain, when it is visible, appears rather rocky—hardly the best conditions for life and stable living. What's more unusual, however, is that despite this fact, there is, indeed, a small populace "living" among the mist and clouds, but it's clear they do not live here year-round. It's hunting season, and they are there for the bounty.

These visitors have built small platforms that are hooked together by ropes and swinging bridges, which they call "temporaries". Unstable buildings are rare, dangerous, and spread out over these temporaries to prevent damage or accidents. The temporaries float along, swaying and shifting with the planet’s atmosphere, and posted at every point of entry and all open surfaces are a particular set of rules that everyone must abide by. They are written in dark ink and large block letters so that all passing by will stop and read them:
NO FIRE. Flammables, ignition sources, matches, lighters, and anything that creates a spark is prohibited. The atmosphere has higher levels of hydrogen, and the smallest spark will create a problem.
AIR BREATHABILITY. Monitor your vitals. Wear masks or re-breathers if needed.
WATCH THE EDGE. All walkways are the only thing from you and falling. Be cautious and watch your step.
These signs should be given their due attention. The edge is just that: the end of where it is safe to walk. If a wooden plank gives way beneath your feet, you will plummet through hundred of miles of atmosphere before hitting the planet’s thin surface. The captains reiterate that crew should be careful and stick to the main temporaries, gather supplies, visit at their leisure, and then go back to the ship.

☄ IT'S A BIRD! IT'S A PLANE!

The organisms that have evolved on this planet are unintelligent—a fact that is told to you by the other visitors. As there is no solid materials or ways for them to interact with their environments, these giants float along within the atmosphere, though it appears that they are flying when they are merely navigating through. They travel in groups of three or more and sometimes come close to the outskirts of the temporaries. Because there is an invisible filtration dome around the temporaries, this allows the creatures to pass through without harm and return again into the mist as they please. They are difficult to see at night and are rather skittish in the presence of sudden light.

☄ @ THE MUSEUM

Every evening when work is done, artificial light sources illuminate the streets of the temporaries. There is one bar, if you can actually call it that, but the main attraction is a museum. The support structure appears to be made out of the skeletal system of the giants that "swim" and live on Ceta, and though the outside seems rather unassuming, the inside is not for the faint of heart. As it's considered informative, there are displays of the internal structures and functions of the very creatures that seem harmless and as unintelligent as the visitors claim. There are sections of the museum dedicated to their anatomy and what makes them so valuable: inside their air sacs, which is what gives the illusion to flying through the atmosphere, is a mineral that, when harvested, attunes and sharpens the senses so that brain capacity and function excel over one-hundred percent efficiency. Likewise, aside from these informative areas, there is also a history of how and when the visitors began to hunt them for this valuable, unnamed resource.

☄ HARVEST SEASON

Are you looking for work? Or perhaps you're bored with your duties aboard the Moira and prefer to see just what it is these visitors do during the day? Hunters will often pay for menial labor to help with the killing and retrieval of the giants of Ceta. It is by day, not by hour, and once aboard one of the many ships, you will be put to work handling equipment or being on the lookout for "signs" of the creatures. Once they've been spotted, the real work isn't in capturing them or even trying to subdue them—though they give a good fight. It's in the harvest, done below deck once they have been safely brought into the ship's cargo areas by the tethers, that can get quite gruesome. As a defense mechanism, cutting into the skin creates a rather noxious emission that can cause disorientation, hallucinations, or unconsciousness. Worst case scenarios can often result in death.

☄ WORD LIMITS

As things are beginning to wind up (or down), something seems to have gotten into the MID systems and caused a malfunction. On the morning of 03.13, it suddenly becomes clear that communicating with others who are not from the same universe or similar timelines seems very difficult. Understanding each other becomes rather hopeless as the day continues, and these repercussions can be felt across the entire ship. The Captains send out another MID message that appears as a jumble of unusual letters and symbols. However, there is one word that can be read by everyone and (hopefully) understood: RATCHET. Figuring out this problem shouldn't take long if everyone can leap the language barriers and work together.

( ooc; All New Arrivals: you have the choice of coming through the Moira's Ingress OR Ceta's Ingress. For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Okay, so, that actually gets a laugh out of her. She's been keeping to herself during most of her time at the museum and hasn't paid much attention to the people who come and go so long as they don't bother her reading.

But hey, he brings up a good point. ]

Can't discover anything otherwise, sometimes. But still-- You'd think a little self-preservation wouldn't be much to ask for. What if eating it made your insides explode?

Well, it'd make every else think twice about eating it, that's for sure. For a while at least, until someone thinks "it couldn't have been that bad, right?" and tries again. Somehow lessons don't tend to stick with people very well, you know?

So, what's your name?

I don't know. 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained' and all of that. Someone's always going to try something stupid for the hell of it, especially if they think it's a drug.

[ And then they end up screwed up over it.

She pauses a moment, debating whether she should answer. But then: ]

...Ava. You?

Deacon.

[Not exactly his name but it's what he goes by. Close enough.]

So are you the type to nobly try out the crazy shit first so no one else has to, take one for the team, or the type to point and laugh at the dumb sucker who's trying out the crazy shit?

Deacon? You don't look like a priest.

[ Unless it's a title? A rank? ...A pun? ]

I'm...the sort to try to encourage people not to act like assholes, I think. Or I'm the one forced to 'take one for the team'. Not a great spot to be in.

[ And she's pretty sick and tired of being in that position, frankly. ]

You're, what, the jokester? The sarcastic wit? Or the one with enough brains not to try anything dumb?

[Deacon chuckles.]

Definitely not a priest. But I guess one of my ancestors probably was. It's my family name. [Lies.]

I'd like to go with option number three. Or two, option two sounds good, too. But I think my pals would call me the one who's a pain in the ass.

But you don't have a first name, then?

[ Or prefers the last name? Not the strangest thing she's heard, really, but still worthy of a brief lift of her eyebrow. ]

Smart enough not to try something, likes to be sarcastic...and can be irritating. [ Good to know, she guesses. She likes his humor so far. ] What've you done that's so annoying to them?

My first name is Deacon, too. That's what happens when you're the youngest of ten kids and your parents have no creativity. Since "Deacon Deacon" sounds pretty stupid, I just go by Deacon. [So much bullshit.

And this is exactly why his colleagues in the Railroad think he's a pain in the ass. But he can't say that.]

The crowd I usually hang with, a lot of them tend to take themselves very seriously.

[ Yeah, she doesn't entirely buy that but stops pressing, mostly because she has to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds. ]

Okay, okay. Deacon it is.

[ She can deal with that. It's good enough. ]

I can understand that. I only know one person who's something of a jokester and even he has his serious moments. [ And moments of insanity. ] It's tough. You have my sympathies.

Are you new here too? Or have you been on The Moira for a while?

Nah, I'm new. Still getting used to this whole aliens and spaceships and dragons thing. It's pretty wild.

What about you? Was this kind of weird crap just a normal day on the streets nothing exciting where you come from?

No, nothing quite like this in my life.

[ A werewolf hunting her, creepy old vampires turning people in flesh-folding abominations, houses full of blood... Yeah, that was normal. Not this. ]

I'm trying to figure out how I'm even going to begin adjusting to...all of this.

[ And that's punctuated with a wave of her hand to the rest of the museum. ]

Yeah, before this the furthest I'd been from Boston was the Capitol Wasteland, so this is a whoooole new experience.

[He leans back against one of the wall displays.]

By the way, do you have a pair of sunglasses I could borrow?

[The Ingress took his and it's making his brain itch, how exposed his face is.]

No, uh, no sunglasses. Probably wouldn't fit you too well anyway.

[ Besides, it's not as if she can wear any now. The 'wears sunglasses at night' thing is so cliché, anyway. Vampires don't need any more help with being walking fools. ]

Wait, did you say wasteland? What are you talking about?

[Dammit, doesn't anyone from other universes wear shades? Oh well, it was worth a try.]

Sorry, it's easy to forget that different universes can mean waaaay different.

So where I come from, China and the United States of America were at war, and in 2077 someone on one side or the other decided "fuck everything!" and launched all their nuclear warheads. And so the other side did too and it was bye bye civilization.

It's 2287 now, over two hundred years after everything went to shit. And everything's still kind of shit, really. The Capitol Wasteland is what we call the place that used to be Washington D.C. It got hit pretty hard by the bombs. Boston and the Commonwealth aren't much better.

Woah, what?

[ Over two hundred years. A nuclear fallout? What the hell? Ava stares for a long time, honestly unable to comprehend it. There had been rumors in 2003 of the final nights, but not tied to something like a war with China. Shit, shit. She can't even tell if she and Deacon are from the same world, and so she cannot even begin to wonder if this is information she can trust.

She covers her mouth a moment, then drops her hand. ]

Holy shit.

[ Understatement. ]

...What about Nevada and California? Know anything about what happened out there?

[ Wait, slow down, back up. Ava gives him a scrutinizing look. ]

If civilization is over and gone, how are you still standing?

From your reaction I'm guessing that's not at all like where you're from. You'll have to tell me about it.

[Deacon is fascinated by the Old World, and wonders what Earth would be like now if the bombs hadn't fell.]

I can totally tell you about California and Nevada. There are caravans that meet up with caravans, and basically there's a trade route that crosses the whole continent. It takes months, but we get news from back there sometimes. Let's see, last I heard the New California Republic--that's a group that's trying to rebuild democracy and make a real, live nation-state, Old World style--was running up into trouble against a group out of Arizona called the Legion--an army of crazy slavers running around in Roman armor. New Vegas and the area around was caught in the middle.

[Deacon smiles at her question about how he's here if everything went to hell. Sharp observation, noting possible inconsistencies. But he has an answer to that question, and it's even the truth.]

Yeah, well civilization died, but some people survived. There was this business called Vault-Tec that built a crapload of underground Vaults for people to evacuate to in case the worst happened, which it did. Some of the vaults opened up after a couple decades and people came out, started eagerly repopulating the species, forming tribes, fighting over resources, sorting themselves into in-crowds and out-crowds, with the in-crowds totally dissing on the out-crowds. You know, kind of like High School only with more guns and switchblades. But the country called the United States of America doesn't exist any more. No countries exist anymore, as far as anybody knows.

No, it's...it's not like that at all.

[ California in a war between nation-state democracy and slavers. Her heart sinks. 2077 is a long time away, sure, and it might not even happen in her world-- But she thinks of the family she left behind, her siblings who will still be alive if such a thing comes to pass. She can only hope they'll manage. It's not as if she can go and save them, not when it would cost her everything else she has for herself. Her life would go up in flames.

Ava rubs uncomfortably at her arm. It's not a future she wants for anyone, least of all people she cares for. Vampires probably can't survive radiation, either. But who would she tell, even if she could? Everyone would think she had lost her mind.

Beckett might appreciate it, creep that he is. She stores what's said away for later, to digest and parse through. ]

But parts of America exist still. Small parts.

[ New Vegas, Boston. There's some hope in that, she thinks, no matter how slim it might be. ]

That's...awful. I'm sorry you're living through all of that. I can't even begin to imagine what it's like. [ Tribes, in and out crowds, in-fighting. She can imagine it, in a way, as it's no different than Camarilla society now. ] What do you do? Are there...jobs, money, some kind of way to live without getting stabbed in a back alley over food?

The currency of choice is bottle caps. [He pulls one out from his pocket to hand to her. It's just a plain, ordinary red bottlecap that says "Nuka Cola" across the top, with a little white swoosh between the two words.] But people are usually willing to trade for other stuff, too.

It's been over two hundred years now since the bombs fell, and people have found ways to get by. And, like, 90% of people have even found ways to get by that don't involve dicking over other people, at least not too much. It's the other 10% you've gotta worry about, because they'll shoot you on sight and loot your corpse. But there's farmers working the land, traders running the caravans and guards hired by the traders. There's scavengers who dig through the ruins of the Old World for valuables.

People have even set up cities--well, we call them cities, but I guess to you they're probably more like villages. There's one that's inside what used to be the baseball stadium, Fenway Park I think they used to call it? Anyway, it survived almost completely intact and those high walls make for awesome security against raiders. There's more opportunity for work in the cities. People set up shops, bars, build houses, hell, they even have a radio DJ. So it's not all bad. But even in the cities rule of law is a little bit more iffy than it was in the Old World. The city governments aren't exactly models of democracy and freedom. But people feel safer there and for a lot of people, that's worth the trade-off.

[ Bottle caps. Ava reaches out for it and she takes it into her hand, turning it over carefully in the light of the museum. Squinting, she takes a good look at it before handing it back. ]

Nuka Cola. Like...Coca-Cola?

[ Weird.

But what he says makes sense. Cities are going to build up from what they used to be; societies will resort to the old ways while attempting to adapt to the way the world is now. She isn't surprised to hear much of the same has stuck around...except for governments. ]

Well, there's probably fewer cops, fewer places to stash prisoners away with the world gone to shit. It's harder to fight just...gangs of people who are trying to make a living, no matter how awful they are. It's all about survival.

[ She can sort of relate. She tilts her head slightly, inquisitively. ]

So, what do you do, Not-Priest Deacon? What's your job or place in all of that mess?

Coca-Cola? Never heard of that. [Weird. Wouldn't it be something if their universes diverged or whatever the word is, all because some soda company gave their signature drink a different name.

...nah, not very likely.]

Me? I'm the leader of the Minutemen. [They're talking about him now, so he's back to lying again.] We're a group that's trying to get all the farming settlements to band together, help each other out, recruit people who will go to any settlement to help defend it when called. You know, strength in numbers, yadda yadda. We're the bestest, most noble, and we're totally not going to be corrupted someday down the line and start charging people for "protection."

[Okay, that lie fell apart. He couldn't resist letting too much of his actual opinion leak in. Take two.]

Nah, honestly I'm just a drifter. I wander around, do odd jobs for caps or trade, stake out promising trash heaps and rifle through them for something good. That sort of thing. [That's a much better lie.]

Seriously? If this place gives us any, you'll have to try it. It's not bad.

[ And she can't drink it anymore. What a downer.

Deacon gets a very slow and quizzical arch of an eyebrow as he continues rambling, especially when he starts getting cynical. He tried pretty hard to keep that one going, she'll admit. The other one sounds much more palatable. ]

Mm, irradiated trash heaps. Sounds like fun. [ She manages another smile. ] I can't blame you for not getting in with any one group-- Kind of seems lonely, though.

[ Just her observation. ]

You said Boston, right? Is that where you usually roam?

Oh yeah, it's a blast.

Seriously, sometimes it is. All the decomposition lets off gases and if you're in a tight space in a landfill tunnel you've gotta be careful about firing off any shots because one spark and you might blow the whole place up.

And yet somehow I've never found that perfect someone who wants to spend their life garbage diving with me til death do us part. Some people are so picky. [He shrugs.] I'm used to flying solo.

[He misses his shades. He knows he lies freely and casually and frequently enough that he's good at it when he needs to be, but he still prefers the reassurance of knowing that no one can see his eyes.]

Yeah, my digs are in Boston. Ever been there?

[ She laughs, this time rather openly. It's an odd sound to her ears. She hasn't really laughed in a while before today, possibly weeks. ]

Oh, yeah, I can't even imagine why not. You clearly haven't found the right type of girl for that kind of gig. I'm sure you'll run into her one day. Maybe she's just in a different dumpster?

[ So gross. Ava shrugs again and shakes her head. ]

Nah, I'm from the west coast. I used to live up closer to Washington before I went to college, then I moved south to Los Angeles. I've been there since. I've never been anywhere up along the east coast. I hear it's nice, though. Cooler. ...Well, not for you, I'm guessing, with all the radiation.

Hey, good idea! When I get back home, I should totally check out the other garbage pit down the road and see if I can find a hot chick there who likes trash.

[Then he turns more serious and his voice quieter. Speaking of the Old World is like speaking of the dead. He usually does it softly, and with a touch of reverence.]

What's it like? L.A. before the War?

[ What's L.A. like? She wants to paint him a realistic picture, to tell him how seedy it is, how dangerous. How there are monsters and secrets around every corner. And yet... ]

It's... It's busy. I've never been in a city always so full of people. No one sleeps; they're out at all hours, drinking, clubbing, having fun. You have your weird people, of course, but there's businessmen and students and artists all around. You can sit in Griffith Park or go to the observatory. There's a million and one things to do in Los Angeles. [ There's something wistful about the way she speaks of it. ] I had this...great view from my apartment. A little patio deck - not much to look at or anything - that I'd go out and stand on, look at the sunrise with my coffee. Or have a drink in the afternoon with a friend.

[ And it's all gone. She'll never see it again, won't be able to do the things she wants to do. She can't go back to school or hang out with the same people. They all think she's dead. ]

There's a beach down at Santa Monica. Beautiful, always crowded. Used to have awful food before they cleaned it up a bit. You could go anywhere from Los Angeles, like it was your ticket to something great.

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