( april intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: April 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Del Pascia
What: The crew finds themselves visiting the correctional facility of Del Pascia.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Please label your content!

I N T R O L O G

slammed & counted "I feel liberated when I'm doing it, and I want other people to feel liberated through it." 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. Shortly after, you are led out and toward the medbay. Inside this room, you are given a physical scan and offered a contract to sign that states you are now part of the crew of the Moira with a specific job. This process consists of a complete work-up of medical history and current health, and afterwards, you are given your MID, a device that is integrated into your hand with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters. With the combined efforts of the crew, the terror plaguing the ship has been successfully removed from the Moira. Yet, it doesn’t come without consequences. Aside from the overall state of those aboard the ship, the Moira itself has taken considerable damage across various sections. Overall functionality seems stable for now, but with necessary repairs to be made and few supplies to actually make them with, the Captains have set a course for any nearby planet with the hope of finding what they need. However, that is much closer than it appears. As new arrivals begin coming through the Ingress, a message is received by those in the Tower and broadcast to everyone: Please be advised. Your vessel is now entering Restricted Space. As per penal code 65208-A, only authorized personnel are to be admitted beyond this point. If necessary, further assistance will be provided once docked. As there is little choice, the Captains instruct Navigation to proceed with caution. All transporters will be required to assist in taking those who volunteer to the main hub. WELCOME TO CORRECTIONAL FACILITY DEL PASCIA Del Pascia is one of many facilities across the universe built to maintain and rehabilitate its inhabitants. With a combined populace of both prisoners and employed civilians, it functions as both prison and living quarters. The central section of Del Pascia is divided into multiple floors that branch out into subdivisions of the facility—clearly and precisely labeled. For those contracted to work in the prison, Del Pas Main is home. There are cafeterias, common areas for exercise and general downtime, divided residences, and work stations. Beyond this area, each remaining wing of Del Pascia separates into cell blocks A through F with similar facilities available to the inmates. Varying degrees of criminals are brought to Del Pascia, ranging from maximum security to juvenile offenders, and security differs depending on which block is visited. Yet, there is something peculiar about this prison upon further investigation: there are no living persons within Del Pascia. The AI, which runs and oversees all of Del Pascia, has made arrangements with the Moira so that those who wish may board and take what is needed to begin repairs. This program, while generally polite in nature, goes simply by the name D-E-L. ☄ ENJOY YOUR STAY ... IN PRISON Those who choose to go to Del Pascia will find themselves greeted by D-E-L. It has already agreed to terms with the Captains, allowing crew to strip nonessential supplies that aren’t needed since the station’s crew and prisoners were relocated due to funding cuts. The only condition placed upon this agreement is that any crew wishing to explore must undergo a mandatory decontamination before proceeding through the rest of Del Pascia. This process takes only minutes and is guaranteed to cause no physical side effects. Following this simple procedure, exploration is open with only warnings to be careful about damaging key systems. It is important to note that there are various security cameras located throughout the correctional facility, and it is not uncommon for D-E-L to comment or show concern for those exploring parts of Del Pascia. ☄ DEATH BECOMES YOU There is salvage to be found in all parts of the facility, including the cell blocks and infirmaries of the prison wings. However, there is something odd about these sectors, a strange charge in the air that follows you as you search for anything useful to bring back to the Moira. Perhaps it is the eyes of D-E-L watching? But then, after an indiscernible amount of time, it's like a switch is flipped. Suddenly, you are wearing your sins where anyone but you can see. For however much death you have wrought or committed, there will be blood on your hands—perhaps even further than that. This bizarre occurrence will appear as an almost digital skin and will not vanish until outside the cell blocks. If exploring the infirmaries for supplies, any and all health stats throughout your life will be visible and easy to read by anyone who happens to take an interest. For those who have killed once or twice, they might find a red stain on their hands, but the higher the kill count will result in larger proportions of blood covering their arms and, in extreme cases, perhaps their entire body. The blood will vanish once you have left the prison wing, though you may occasionally see a flicker of the image while anywhere on the station. The same goes for health stats viewed in infirmary sections of Del Pascia. ☄ WHAT WAS THAT SOUND? Del Pascia is a very large station and has been abandoned for quite some time. D-E-L will regretfully inform anyone who asks that some nonessential areas have fallen into disrepair. It will warn that exploring these areas can be risky as it has no knowledge of what damage these sections have taken. Regardless of that, if you venture in, you’ll find that these sections are in rather bad shape. Exposed wiring sparks in the walls, a great variety of broken tools are thrown about, and it seems that every camera has been purposely broken. Venturing in further will yield valuable components for salvage, and yet... as before, you suspect you aren’t alone. It isn’t often, but sometimes, you might hear a step falling moments after yours or a rattle coming from the vents. Every time you go to investigate... whatever made the noise is gone. Should the AI be queried about this, D-E-L will emphasize that all personnel and prisoners were removed and that there is no one on board except crew from the Moira. ( ooc; For questions, go here. All players, please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Comments

Deacon

[ersatzeverything]

A. Moira

[They're told that they'll be scavenging, so Deacon's put on his standard scavenger gear. No wig, dirty broad-brimmed hat over his shaved head, tatty tan coat over trousers and shirt, and the omnipresent sunglasses. There's no trace of of his prior greaser-chic here. It's sturdy, lots of pockets for stashing small gear, and good for hiding an extra weapon. He can be found in the mess hall, eating a light breakfast with all the other inhabitants, both those going to the space station and those not, and later waiting for a transporter to carry them over.]

I guess we're going to prison. This should be fun. [Said with dry sarcasm. But he is glad for the adventure, even if prison wouldn't be his first choice of location.]

B. Del Pascia: Cell Blocks

[When the holographic blood appears on Deacon, it covers his hands, up his arms, and splashes across his torso. He's had to kill a lot of raiders over the years. There's also a ring of blood around his neck, just barely visible over the collar of his shirt.

Between the dark lighting, the red glow of the bars of the cells, and his shipmates walking around covered in gore, it's like how he imagines that the set of a horror movie would be between takes, actors and extras looking like the living dead, casually milling about in a scary-as-fuck set.]

Wow, creepy much. Hey, who wants to tell ghost stories! ...Actually, please don't.

[But for as creepy as it is, Deacon is fairly phlegmatic about it all. Once he got over the initial, tense fear at seeing his shipmates covered in blood, thinking there was an attack and people were being wounded, he shrugged it off and got back down to business. Why this is happening is a troubling mystery, but the sight of blood by itself doesn't phase him. The feeling of being observed is more unnerving, but hell he feels like that all the time. He's used to pushing his paranoia into the background.]

C. Del Pascia: Infirmary

[Medical salvage can be the most valuable, equipment and medicines that can save lives, so Deacon enters hoping for a big haul. When the medical data flickers into holographic life next to him a few seconds later, the faint glow catches his attention and he turns to read it, curiously.]

Name: John Darrow
Age: 47
Height: 5'8''
Weight: 168 lbs
Blood type: A-
Current Health: Radiation poisoning, mild to negligible. Malnutrition, mild to negligible. Vitamin D deficiency.
Previous Health Conditions: [A long list of the usual effects of nearly 50 years of wasteland living (thank goodness for the healing power of stimpaks), including broken bones, gunshot wounds, burns, stab wounds, animal bites and stings, venom poisoning, radiation. Also listed is a prior history of drug use.]

Shit.

[He only gets one line in before his eyes widen in alarm under his sunglasses and he pivots on his foot and beats a hasty retreat from the infirmary. Yeah, other people can sort through that salvage, he'll go back to the cell blocks. Everyone around him covered in blood? No prob. Feeling like someone's watching? Paranoia central, but hey that's nothing new for him. Seeing his own name? Fuck no.

Nopenopenopenopenopenope.]

Re: cell blocks

[cardboard_boss]

[A prison block wasn't exactly Snake's idea of a nice visit to a new foreign planet. He didn't expect to be treated like a plague victim and forced to undergo quarantine. Security measures were all the same no matter if were from Earth or outer space.

Snake noticed the man in the cell he saw the blood on his body. Damn. What the hell was going on around here? He wasn't the only one covered in blood; it seemed everyone had been tarnished with the same brush.]

Depends on the story.

[ersatzeverything]

[Deacon looks up from where he's trying to pry out a laser bar projection unit. Once broken down into parts, it'd probably be useful for something.

Holy shit, that's a lot of blood on that Snake. It's not surprising, he supposes. He's heard that the Snakes are all soldiers.]

It looks like you've had a busy life. There are people who've met you who are still alive, right? [Deacon smartasses.]

I was thinking a story about blood-borne pathogens, like, a zombie plague, would totally go with the ambiance.

[cardboard_boss]

You could say that. Get a lot of blood on your hands being a soldier.

[Yet, he never expected others to see him covered in it. Holographic blood whatever it was. He wanted it gone. The man had blood on him too. Was everyone here a killer?]

Yeah, they're still alive.

[ersatzeverything]

[War never changes.]

That's a relief to hear, especially seeing as I've now met you and all.

[cardboard_boss]

[You could say that, yeah.]

I'm not going to kill you or anyone else here. [Snake sighed. He'd had enough killing back home during missions. Besides, there wasn't a threat in the prison cell. Not yet anyway.]

What's your line of work?

[ersatzeverything]

Lumberjack.

[Deacon says without hesitation. He lies so much that bullshit just falls out of his mouth. He's never cut down a tree in his life. He doesn't look much like a lumberjack, either, not with how untanned his skin is from running mostly at night and going to ground during the daytime.]

[vengeance_driven]

Oh, that'll be a real great time.

[Niko meets sarcasm with disgustingly exaggerated sarcasm. He taps his foot as he waits for said transporter. And unfortunately, it means that Deacon gets to sit in for this tiny rant he's throwing.]

I should probably make this a quick trip. I do not like that we come here, of all places. Maybe is closest, but come on.

ersatzeverything

[ersatzeverything]

[Hey, sarcasm pal! He doesn't know you very well, but he likes your verbal style.]

I really hope our AI host doesn't decide that we should get cozy and stay a while, a long while. I imagine prison would suck.

I thought for sure that I replied to this. Also you put your journal name in the subject.

[vengeance_driven]

Oh yeah. Prison is not a good time. Any one I've been in hasn't exactly been great.

[Luckily he's never been in for more than short stints.]

I am going to get in there and get the fuck back out. I don't trust it.

Huh. That's weird. I wonder if my phone did that. I didn't do that.

[ersatzeverything]

Maybe you be give this prison a star review compared to the others you've seen. Like, "quarter star: the owners went overboard on the oppressive atmosphere, and the lack of even bad food is a bummer."

[Deacon is trying to distract himself from the fact that he's going to be flying again soon. He hates heights, hates these reminders that he's on a spaceship and there's no solid ground anywhere.]

It is the oddest mystery

[vengeance_driven]

If someone says any prison has over 1 star, then they have their brain in the wrong place.

[Niko isn't a man fond of being held captive under any conditions.]

You look nervous man.

[ersatzeverything]

Nervous? Nah, I love sitting in a tin can with black, airless death on all sides. It's fun. Keeps life interesting.

[The sarcasm is back.

Being shot at is okay, just another day in the Commonwealth, but flying machines and tall buildings brings out the nervous Nellie in him.]

[warandpeace]

I see you got your glasses.

[Miller doesn't think much of going over to see what Deacon is looking at. Instead he is collecting items for the infirmary and for himself, since the scraplets put him in a state of apprehension. His leg is fixed now, he can walk without his crutch, but he's not going to be caught that incapable of defence again.]

[He soon is distracted by his own file.]

Name: 和平 McDonnel Benedict Miller
Age: 38
Height: 183 cm / 6'1''
Weight: 81 km / 178 lbs
Blood Type: O-
Current Health: Chronic Pain, Mild sinus irritation
Previous Health Conditions...

[Rather than fill him with the same issues as Deacon, Miller has a different reaction to his own information. In the span of ''69 through ''74 there are monthly VD tests. All of which clean, but the regularly in which they occur is ridiculous. That's almost funny. Those stop, though, as soon as Big Boss enters his coma. The treatments for combat injuries increase. Then the loss of the limbs. Those related treatments.]

[His gaze goes back up to another one.]

...Blood transfusion in Colombia, government hospital, referred by Big Boss...

[He makes a little hmf noise, tensing up his lips.]

[ersatzeverything]

Three pairs.

I'd like to think the Ingress was apologizing to me, but I'm pretty sure it doesn't give a crap and I just got lucky. But I won't complain; it's good to have backups.

[Deacon stands near the closed door, trying to avoid having his medical stats pop up again. He's curious about Miller's though, and that curiosity keeps him from fleeing.]

Busy life.

[warandpeace]

I guess so... [He remarks idly, before turning towards Deacon.]

You're avoiding coming the rest of the way in here, aren't you?

Fine. I won't look.

[He promises.]

[ersatzeverything]

Places like this give me the heebie-jeebies. The Institute carries out tests on synths, making sure they bleed right and stuff. Trauma central. I want to make sure none of these things decide to come to life and vivisect you, but, yeah, I'll keep guard from over here. So how've you been? No more punch-ups with Mr. Oblivious, I hope.

[warandpeace]

Ah. [He accepted the explanation, but paused over that.] Punch ups... No. Not really.

[He didn't know what to call what he decided to do there. They weren't a couple. For all intents and purposes, it was meant to be completely casual. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was bad for him. But. He'd wanted it for so long, and missed him so much.]

This record. The one with the blood transfusion. First time we met. His unit attacked mine. I thought I was going to bleed to death, tricked him into coming close, was going to use a grenade on his both.

He held my hands, kept me from pulling the pin, kept me like that until I passed out. I woke up after he'd taken me to a hospital.

We didn't start off on the best terms. Not for a while. It was a little like one of those old cartoons where the cat keeps trying to catch the mouse, but the mouse keeps thwarting the cat. I was actually the cat. [He sounds more amused than bitter in the recounting.] Probably should have took it as a warning. [He never learns his lesson.]

[ersatzeverything]

Now I just imagine him dropping pianos on your head.

So how'd you end up going from trying to kill him to in love with him?

b

[knaval]

[riptide, likewise, is covered in blood. only for him, it's bright purple.

robots, huh.]

Ghost stories? [he asks, a little way down the hall from deacon. the prison is big enough for him to stand up straight in. he likes that, but it's probably creepy to see a giant barely lit robot for everyone else. riptide didn't think that far.] I don't really know any. Well, maybe the sparkeater but-- wait, you're the guy! From the place!

[ersatzeverything]

[...What guy? What place? Which lie did he tell to Riptide? He's told so many different ones to different people that he's lost track.]

Uh...yeah! I sure am. The guy from the place.

[He's pretty sure it was on Ceta, so that narrows it down a little. In the museum...

Oh yeah!]

I decided to, like, quit my job making creepy exhibits and hitch a ride with you guys. But if I ever get back into it, seeing places like this is going to be great inspiration.

[knaval]

[riptide would be unbelievably offended that he was forgotten.]

Well, that's good! You didn't seem like you enjoyed it all that much. What do you think of the crew? Do you miss Ceta?

[ersatzeverything]

Ceta sucked. This is way better. For one thing, I can have a smoke without blowing myself up, that's a plus. [If he had cigarettes, which he doesn't, but details.]

And I get to explore beautiful and exotic places. Like this prison! [He gestures with his hand to the "beautiful and exotic" zombie nightmare surroundings.]

[knaval]

Oh. Why did you move to Ceta if you like setting fires?

[ahaha what's a cigarette]

It's a big universe, you know. I'm sure we'll land on an actual planet soon. Not one that'll fall into civil war while we're there...

[ersatzeverything]

It was a great job opportunity. Us "Disturbing Exhibit Specialists" don't have a lot of career upward mobility. Gotta take the jobs where they are, even if means moving to podunk explosive non-ground-y places like Ceta.

A planet would be awesome. I miss having proper solid ground under my feet. [That last sentence is the only thing that isn't a lie.]