thisavrou_log | A Spacemas Carol: December's Mod Event Log

Who: Anyone and Everyone
When: December 19 onwards
Where: Avagi... and beyond?
What: Your past, someone's present, and potential futures.
Warnings: Body horror and an associated image in the second part. Otherwise, label your content.

While the Ingress may have been destroyed, the energy powering it remains alive and well. The residents of Avagi know this intimately: from their own arrivals, from the portals that have appeared, and the short-lived changes (as well as longer-lived possessions) that have cluttered the station over the last few months. Recently, whatever force is manipulating this has even gone so far as to revive the dead—demonstrating, perhaps, an unwillingness to relinquish those it has brought to this place.

To say this entity is seasonal would probably be a mistake. In the heart of Avagi's storms, there are no stars to mark the seasons, much less connect them to a certain planet's holidays—or the literature thereon. Still, from luck or from intention, the current fluctuations comes with a certain theme...

Past

It starts at the turn of the station clock's midnight. Flickers at the edge of one's vision. Indistinct whispers, ghosting through walls and down corridors. Those who are sleeping will be untroubled, but the wakeful and wary can watch the light build: from flickers to pulses, from pulses to pools. Over several hours, silver mist fills rooms and corridors, varying from a thin veil to dense, obscuring fog. If you step into the mist, you'll feel a sense of displacement; of sound and color, energy and a shift of life. Ingress travel.

Except... not quite.

Shortly after entering the mist, you'll find yourself free of disorientation and apparently free of physical form, unable to interact with your surroundings. As a quasi-ghost, you've been transported to somewhere and somewhen—a location from the past, back on a world of someone’s origin or from any place you've been since first arriving through the Ingress. While these experiences can vary wildly, some things remain consistent:

The past matters: These visits to the past are not repeats of idle afternoons—each has emotional significance to someone currently on Avagi.
The past cannot be changed: As real as any given scenario seems, you're fundamentally incapable of altering it. The past event will play out as it did in real life and dissipate when it reaches an ending.
Trying has consequences: Attempting too hard to interfere increases the emotional significance, and will consequently draw onlookers further into the scene. You may find yourself anchored to any participant in the scene: first physically (experiencing the scene through their eyes) and then emotionally (experiencing their emotions and thoughts). If drawn in too deeply, you may lose track of your own nature during the experience, drowning in the sense of being someone else..
You are not alone: While immersed in a scene, you'll see nothing but the history playing out. However, at the its conclusion, the fog will once again displace the world around. As it melts away, you'll find themselves back in Avagi's halls—and face to face with whoever else was also viewing that piece of the past.

Present

Whether through one memory or several, eventually, the fog disperses. Only a faint mist remains, gathered in corners of the station's halls. It's simple enough to avoid, and nothing obstructs efforts to return to your rooms, your friends, or any other destination. Nothing, that is, except finding them.

The layout of the halls has shifted. The clutter you so painstakingly cleared is back. The GPS on your ACE mistakenly reports that you are floating off in space far outside the station, and any efforts to locate or call your companions results in glitchy static. Something is interfering with your calls—more effectively than the distance between worlds.

Inference and intuition are all you have to put together the pieces. The layout has changed, but the construction stayed the same. You're still on the former Ingress station. But not the same area that you called home. This is a different section of Avagi.

An inhabited one.

Dank, warm air pulses in and out of the vents in odd rhythms. Water damage stains the walls, and some seep dark liquid. There's an odd symphony in the distance: four notes, hummed to a pattern that buzzes in the back of your head. It's possible to wait it out. But if you do explore, you might come across your friends. And together, you might find the source.

Further in, a wall of flesh fills the pathways, rising and falling with intermittent, massive draws of air. A fluid wash of features glues it to the bulkheads. Claws and eyes, hands and faces: half-made bodies shifting in and out of recognition with each pulse of breath. And always with the same gold glow beneath the skin. It's a familiar shade, to those who witnessed Thisavrou's destruction.

It's the being who destroyed it.

Those who flee will escape her notice. Those who wait may watch in secret for a time. Mother's focus seems to be elsewhere...or, perhaps, something else is hiding your presence here from her.

Any attack on Mother's flesh shape, or any overt effort to draw her attention, will meet violent, immediate reprisal. You'll experience an immobilizing psychic force before the flesh consumes you. But whether you hide or fight or run, your time on this section of the station will end in the same way: a burst of brilliant, clear light providing transport back home.

Future

You flash back to reality amidst a burst of light—but this time, you recognize your surroundings. You have returned to the Avagi you know, and the silver mist that filled the halls has cleared.

Over the next few days, most of Avagi will settle back into a state of normalcy. The ACEs are working properly, and station residents will have all the time they need to compare notes on their experiences—and, perhaps, on any plans to act on what they've learned.

Avagi is not as empty as it seemed. And one place in particular will remain changed in the wake of the event. The Ingress Memorial, once inactive, has come to life, emitting a swirl of silver light that shifts and flickers, like the light of the portal it once contained. For the next five days, it will offer a vision to anyone approaching it: a single, brief scene from their potential future.

Players have the following options:

Canon future: Your character catches a glimpse of their future if they were to return from Avagi to their own world. This consists of a canon event.
Avagi future: Your character catches a glimpse of their own future on Avagi. This can be a short-term future (i.e. an actual vision of a future scene you plan to play out), or a potential longer-term one in which they stayed on Avagi for months or years.
Storm future: Your character catches a glimpse of themselves as a Mirtos—a desiccated husk and incarnation of the storm's hunger. As seen in Thisavrou's destruction, these creatures are carried by the storms and destroy all they come across.

The visions can observed by any present when the Memorial is approached. And while the past is fixed, the future is always capable of being altered. What will you do regarding yours?

[OOC: Check out the OOC post for more information!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's over, but it's not. The user is still cringing. Still bleeding, and Rinzler stares at the red smudges. Should make the user still? Restraint won't help, and the last forced shutdown had produced a very different user when Wash woke. Rinzler likes this one. But Wash flinches in, eyes closing, and...

Oh.

That's... better. Closer to aware. Rinzler shifts forward a half-step, into the user's line of sight. Can Wash see him?]

Accurate.

Location?

[The voice. It's familiar, but not one that's burned into his brain and tied up with the Project in ways that hurt. It's enough to catch his attention, and drag him a little closer back to reality here, rather than what's in his head.

He takes a breath that shudders through his lungs and looks around. Still metal grey but... not medical. Not quite right for the Mother of Invention and he thinks it's a place that's wrong in so many ways, but also not a threat. Not always.]

This is... the station. The storm is outside.

[No visual fix... but he's looking around. The data might be incomplete, but it's not wrong, and that's more than Rinzler had expected. The program holds position for now, though his noise rumbles out a little quicker than usual.]

Avagi.

[He rolls the name over in his mind. He doesn't recognise it. Might as well be a meaningless collection of letters rather than a name. He digs his nails into his neck again, trying to drag himself back, but then slowly lowers it.]

Avagi. I- was assigned here? No I- Not prison. Somewhere else.

[Definitely incomplete. Rinzler twitches slightly forward at the renewed damage, but stops quickly enough.]

Imported through Ingress remnants: approximately three user months back.

Previously in Thisavrou system.

[And the Moira before that. But if Wash is throwing errors from the memories he should have, Rinzler suspects bringing up more data loss won't help.]

[Breathe, just breathe. He can do that at least. Some of that slots into place.]

Thisavrou.

[He frowns, focusing on it. He remembers a planet and then... a storm?]

It's gone. Right?

[The user still hasn't quite looked at him, but Rinzler nods regardless.]

Yes.

'Mother' entity destroyed Ingress.

[Okay. Okay, Thisavrou is a planet. It's gone now, destroyed. But they- they tricked him. He can't quite dredge up the details just now, but he remembers it in flashes of anger and bitterness.]

The Project is gone. Thisavrou is gone. I'm Agent Washington. I'm... human. [A quick glance at the blood under his nails helps to confirm that. AIs don't bleed. Not like this anyway. He lets out a tired huff of breath and leans his head back against the wall.]

I'm not crazy. [He's not expecting anyone to believe him, and it's hard to convince someone of that when they've seen you try to tear yourself open and ramble nonsense at them.]

[Two planets. Neither of which Rinzler can bring himself to regret much. He nods agreement to the list, tilting his head slightly at the conclusion. Is Wash looking for confirmation? Or just stating a fact?]

Yes.

[Either way, he's glad to hear it.]

[He would agree with that. Maybe he could have come to like Thisavrou in time, but it had fucked with his head and his perceptions, imprisoned him, and had hurt people from his world. He didn't give a damn.

He lets out a heavy breath and looks at the other man.]

You're about the only person who'd agree with that.

[He says it dryly, and manages a weak smile.]

[Eye contact: achieved! At least, as far as his own mask permits. The pitch of the harsh rattling softens audibly in relief.]

Accurate.

[Wash is functioning. Wash is aware. What other datapoints would you require?]

Your status?

[He breathes in, and out deeply a few times, and drags his hand across his face.]

Headache the size of a planet. Confused. Things'll fall back into place. Mostly. Just takes a while.

[This sounds like an established process. Rinzler nods.]

Procedure to assist?

[He's a little taken aback by that.]

I don't know. Never had anyone try to assist. Not anyone I'd trust at least.

[But Rinzler doesn't have a motive to try to pick his brain apart like the doctors had.]

[That is not helpful, user.]

Preferred response?

[He has to think about it. He's only ever had himself to rely on for this.]

Talk to me, I guess. It helps to remind me where I am. Touch helps too. Or it might freak me out so be careful. I just need to know I'm- I'm human. Not an AI.

Edited 2018-01-20 20:33 (UTC)

[Talking and touch. Rinzler's gotten better at at least one of those things. The program nods, committing the procedure—and the warnings—to file.]

Assistance required now?

[Wash shakes his head. He's mostly together now. Still bits and pieces he'll have to drag into place. But he knows where he is and who he is and that's enough for now.]

I think I'm okay for the moment.

Thanks.

Acknowledged.

[The enforcer's helmet ducks again. He starts to turn, then stalls, mask tipping back. Sound cycles for a brief interval, piecing the words together, but they come out clear for the most part.]

You should avoid the fog.

More episodes likely if you—enter.

[Wash gives a small smile of gratitude.]

I'll keep that in mind. Not everyone's gonna be as helpful as you are.

[He was helpful? But Wash is smiling, and that's better confirmation than the program could have hoped for. Circuits brighten visibly, surprised and pleased, and Rinzler nods to his ACE.]

Contact if needed.

[And with that, he really will go.]

A Spacemas Carol: December's Mod Event Log

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