thisavrou_log | ( august intro log )

Entry tags:

( august intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: August 1st and on
Where: The Moira
What: New “guests” join the crew on their journey and implement some changes.
Warnings: None for now. Please label your content!

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old but unfamiliar faces
"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once."

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. Any questions you might have would be answered in a straightforward manner as well as an explanation about how the Ingress, the thing that has pulled you onto the Moira, is broken and bringing people here unintentionally. This process also 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 or wrist with only the slightest pinch. From there, you are guided out of the medbay and to your living quarters.

At first, this month seems no more unusual than the previous one for those who have been aboard the Moira for any amount of time. The crew who had landed on the slaver outpost were rescued, and with everyone aboard, the ship has pushed forward into the darker parts of the Runoff. Anyone arriving through the Ingress follows the same routine—moving from the Ingress room into the Medbay for their physical and contract before being assisted by seasoned crew members and helped to their assigned decks. But all familiar things must eventually come to an end: two final travelers come through the Ingress. The first, and most noticeable difference between them and all the others, is their clothing. Both are dressed in standard Moira uniforms, though they bear the insignia of one sharing the same rank as Captains Cúrre and Thán. After a moment to take in all the people on the platform ahead of them, one of the two latest arrivals approaches one of the Ingress panels and begins to manipulate the controls. The Ingress completely shuts down. Unlike before, however, there isn’t an imbalance felt across the ship; everything remains normal and stable.

Utilizing the computer systems located in the Ingress room, they send out the following message to the crew via the MID:
To all those aboard this vessel: I am Ira Phirun, assigned captain of the Moira. First Mate Egan and I will be commandeering all rights to the ship as soon as word is sent to those currently in charge. Expect a more detailed report as soon as all records and logs in Navigation have been reviewed by myself and the First Mate. All questions will be answered in a timely matter. For now, there will be no interruption of daily routine or reprimand if conduct among ranks is broken. Thanks for your time.

Heading to Navigation, the Captain and First Mate, for seemingly unknown reasons, approach Navigator Manasseh and have her show them all records and logs of the Moira. Those working in Navigation when the Captain and First Mate arrive will see Mana greet them in a professional manner. Oddly, the Captain and First Mate act very familiar with the Navigator. They review all documents, but when they come upon news that the Ploiatos is on board, their mostly friendly demeanor shifts quickly. The Captain issues a sharp order, unintelligible to those who are close enough to overhear parts of their conversation, and without any warning at all, Mana loses consciousness and collapses right there on the bridge. Within minutes of this happening, the ship as a whole falls into a low power state with basic functions only. Mana’s MID alerts Medbay, and without hesitation, Captain Cúrre places her in cryo with strict orders to those who work there not to disturb the unit.

As promised, the Captain and First Mate soon address the crew.

☄ lights down low

The lighting has dimmed in all the rooms and halls, the normally crisp air that is pumped from the vents low, and all machines and tech are running at half-speed. These effects can be found throughout the ship. Water in the showers remain hot for only a few minutes before reverting to cold. Recreational equipment powers off not long after it has been turned on. The sanitation and water filtration systems require an hourly manual reboot, and all unused areas of the ship have no power allotted to them until a crew member steps inside. Even then, most functions are not optimal. It’s as if the Moira has been transformed into a dark house with only a candle flickering on the window sill.

☄ reuse & recycle

The Captain and First Mate are quick to establish that this is a new regime and go about making the ship and its crew more efficient in the wake of their change in course and the low power state of the ship itself. This means they will systematically inspect each occupied barracks room and leave notes for what needs to be disposed of or stowed away. Unlike before, this is no longer a pleasure cruise, and each member of the crew is a guest on board; they will not tolerate useless clutter. Anything seen as unnecessary will be either placed into storage in the Cargo Bay or disposed of through the airlock. This new need for efficiency also extends to the need to conserve resources until they reach their destination. The showers are set to an automatic timer to minimize water waste. Those few minutes of hot water are all a crew member is now given. Meals are smaller, bordering on ration sizes, and luxuries are done away with entirely in order to preserve supplies so that the ship can go longer before needing to dock at a planet.

☄ new jobs, same faces

The Captain and his First Mate, as expressed in their addressing of the Moira, explain that work efficiency is a priority. Applications for a head of the following departments will be accepted for a short period: Navigation, the Tower, Medbay, Defense, the Hold, Sanitation, Ingress work, and the Galley/Mess Hall. (Here.) After reviewing what they receive, one head of department will be chosen and tasked with helping crew find positions relevant to those departments and their own skillsets. They will be allowed to retain any positions that they held before that aren’t ship-functional jobs, but they will have to be done in leisure time. In two weeks time, they’ll be accepting department position applications which will be approved, and all those that do not apply will be assigned in accordance with their initial work application. They will also choose three individuals to act as guards of Ploiatos to ensure that there is a rotation available at all times. Will you choose to follow this new decision and promote yourself into a position of responsibility? Or will you simply wait for a reassignment?

( ooc; For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ingress (CW: character death)

"Evaluation complete: system faulty.
"Initiating format."

The caretaker's dry, flat voice carries only the faintest note of satisfaction as it's punctuated with the sharp click of a depressed key. The effect is immediate. The mainframe's calls ("Arid, help!") cut off amid a burst of static, matrix locked to the control panel and ruthlessly marked out for purge.

He can feel his external systems, but he can't network or escape. The display above flickers wildly as he thrashes against the new partitions, barely making it as far as audio. Years--decades--modulating every shade of tone and pitch, learning to speak with all the nuance he could generate. Now? It's just enough for the AI to beg with. "No, no, stop--!" "Please..." It makes no more difference than any of their desperation had. There's an irony there, something bleak and far too hopeless. He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to lose himself, but memory is vanishing row by row, the quick tap of keys blocking every effort to evade...

Audio surges out to static, and the world cuts out completely. He has a fraction of an instant to grope frantically for the lost connections, to compress his files, flinching in. Then the terminal resets.

"<Welcome to Domesticon. Working together today, for a more efficient tomorrow.>"

The words echo through the Ingress room, coming from a small speaker inset in what looks to be some kind of damaged computer. It's cheerfully robotic, a male monotone void of any inflection at all. At least, until the same voice speaks again, sounding much more human. And afraid.

"...Arid?"

Used computer free to good home

Having been dragged at least as far as the hallway, the mainframe is... still not much clearer on his current circumstances. Most likely, neither is anyone passing him by. If it weren't for the array of snapped wires and empty ports emerging from the back, the solid brick of keyboard and attached screen might pass for a large laptop. As it is, those familiar with technology won't have much difficulty identifying the terminal as only a piece of some kind of larger system. One of the Ingress computers? Maybe, though the decor doesn't seem to match.

Wherever its origin, the system doesn't seem to be doing much of anything. The screen glows a dim yellow, displaying a few lines of warnings and a default menu. The keyboard has a speaker inset at the front. Want to check it out? Stick it in a backpack? Or maybe you're just a victim of the Moira's latest tripping hazard.

Certainly, it's going nowhere on its own.

Big Brother... says hi?

A different universe. A faulty portal. By this point, he's received the basic story, and bizarre as it still sounds, the offer of a contract after made it clear just how far from home they really were. A few questions (and at least half a dozen very surprised recalculations) later, and the mainframe AI of Domesticon repurposing depot #127 has a room assignment, a job, and a listing in the registry aboard the Moira.

It's more than he could have expected. It's more than makes sense, and when their own evaluations stop at basic virus scanning... well, he's gonna need a separate file for those questions soon. That's fine. He'll have the chance to look for answers, and that's a better deal than any options found at home.

Besides. This place is packed!

When he's first linked into the ship systems, it's all the mainframe can do to take it all in. His access is limited to crew data and public feeds, but there are easily a hundred living sapients occupying the halls. Humans, droids... other. Forget files, he's marking out a whole new database for this. Still, first things first.

"<Performing hardware analysis...>"

You might be walking in the halls, sitting down for lunch, or entering the rec room. Whatever the mostly-unoccupied, publicly accessible space, there will be a slight flicker of the lights. A flat, prerecorded-sounding comment over the speakers. And a very different tone that speaks up shortly after that.

"Oh! Hey, I didn't spot you there. Sorry about that."

Careful observers will find that the nearest camera has turned to fix on them.

[[ooc: <bracket-text> is monotone, regular is... regular. Feel free to spam or prose; I'll match!]]

[Today has been a strange day at the Ingress. First the severed head and now… this. Zam’s gaze is suspicious above her veil as she takes in the sight of the worn computer and the cheerful voice that issues out of it. That better be the karking computer and not a severed body part hiding out beneath it. She approaches carefully, only stopping for a moment at the strangely emotive word (or perhaps a name) that breaks the short-lived silence. It’s in the same voice as the tagline before, but… not. It sounds uncertain. Frightened, even. Zam approaches more openly, curiosity piqued. Whatever kind of lifeform she’s dealing with, it doesn’t seem aware of her presence yet, or at least it isn’t addressing her.

She stops in front of the terminal, eyes moving from the screen (showing what might’ve once been a geometric image) to the keyboard. She glances around, looking for any other means of input. It looks like the computer might be able to pick up audio, but that’s not happening with her own current disability.

So instead, she reaches for the keyboard and inputs a simple command: system info.]

Edited 2016-08-02 01:26 (UTC)

[At Zam's touch, the screen reverts, a black and white command prompt filling the display. Alphanumeric sequences fill the display in blocks, local progress summaries displayed below it. Most of that scrolls up out of sight as they make their request, though a single line lingers at the top of the screen:

Warning: format interrupted, 13% complete. Some system files may be damaged.
Provide clearance code to reinitialize: _

Something to worry about? Probably not. Certainly the terminal seems responsive enough... if still a little glitchy in the audio. There's an audible hash of static as Zam begins to type, bleeding out to an oddly hollow tone.]

What are you...

[system info. The request completes on automatic, pulling up a long list of output. It starts with:

Domesticon recalibration depot #127: mainframe primary access panel. Do not utilize this terminal if you do not have override clearance.

...and continues from there, scrolling down with serial code, install dates, registry and much, much more. The word Domesticon repeats again and again, along with more than a few entries of [OFFLINE] or [DISCONNECTED]. Either the terminal's been left logged in or it was designed for hardware lockouts instead of software; Zam seems to have full access to at least basic operating controls.]

Arid? Don't-- just...

Please. Tell me that's you.

[Zam’s eyes scan over the readout that scrolls down the screen, looking for anything that could shed light on exactly what she’s dealing with here. She doesn’t get much: just the relevance of the word Domesticon (already obvious from the voice’s introduction) and that the machine isn’t where it should be (also already obvious from the fact that it’s here).

And then it's talking again, in that tone that certainly doesn’t sound like it should be coming from a computer. Zam hesitates, momentarily torn between the instinctive desire to respond in kind and the plain observation that the terminal seems programmed to respond to more rudimentary commands. She ends up settling somewhere in between. It wants to know who she is, right?

login.]

Mainframe AI | The Fall | Open!

ingress!

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Big Brother... says hi?

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let's take the computer to a good home... hello roomie!

sldfklj well played :D

i'm so sorry for this mess oh my god

sup big bro?

Oh, not much. Just spaceships and portals and Humans Everywhere. You know~

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Used computer you say |D

That I do~

Big Brother

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free to a good home

Re: free to a good home

Greetings

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closed to Yori

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