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

[ Fresh off the Boat; Observation Deck ]

[ At first he thinks this is some kind of trick by Sander Cohen. But after being shuffled through rooms that don't creak with the weight of the ocean bearing down on them and having some metal contraption locked onto his hand he figured his isn't the sort of thing the man would go for. Not when Cohen's favorite form of art was dead men and women frozen into unsettling shapes. From there he does what comes naturally and explores his new surroundings.

He makes his way to the observation deck and stands there for a while, silent and disbelieving. This was the sort of thing that only happened in books, totally impossible. Sort of like cities built at the bottom of the ocean. Ridiculous.

To anyone watching, Jack presents an odd sight. His clothes have seen better days, his sweater is bearing some stains that look suspiciously like blood. It's also ripped in a few places. Not that Jack himself is in a much better state. He looks tired, and has more than a few visible injuries on him. It's probably a long shot, but Jack pulls the short-wave radio from his belt where it's been since he first arrived in Rapture and turns it on. ]

Atlas, you there? [ He waits a few moments, listening to the soft buzz of static and hoping for a minute before letting his hand drop. ] ...Didn't think so.

[ First Impressions Are Important; Nomo #022]

[ It's hard to be skeptical of anything after the time Jack has had over the last 48 hours. From airplane to bathysphere to underwater hellhole to goddamn space ship. And he's not exactly running on all cylinders considering he's barely slept. So when he gets handed a pile of clothes that aren't stiff with salt water and blood, and told he's got a room to sleep in he doesn't ask too many questions. The moment he finds the room and more importantly finds it empty he drops his stuff on the foot of one of the bunks and takes advantage of the opportunity to sleep for more than five minutes straight.

Of course the moment someone else actually opens the door, Jack's fear-honed instincts make him jerk awake and immediately go into defense mode, holding up a hand crackling with lightning at whoever dared to, you know, come into their own damn room. Of course the bloodstained sweater and the bags under his eyes are a good indicator this guy hasn't been having a great time recently. ]

...Who're you?

[ Lights Down Low; ]

[ There's something to be said for the uniforms. Mostly that they're better than nothing at all. The dim lighting does nothing to ease the knot in his gut that insists a splicer might pop out at any moment and try to kill him. It also doesn't help that his pistol went missing sometime between getting into the Bathysphere to Hephaestus and stepping out of the Ingress. So for now he's got a syringe of EVE tucked away where he can grab it alongside his pipe wrench. He can almost hear Atlas's voice, giving him that advice for dealing with the Splicers."Zap them and whack them, boyo."

His hand glows a little in the poorly lit hallways as he makes his way toward where he thinks the mess hall is. Because really, if he's going to be stuck in another weird place that he can't leave he at least wants to eat something that's not A) a candy bar or B) a bag of chips. A man has needs after all. ]

[ Wildcard ]

[ Want something else! Hit me up and we can make it happen. ]

[You're not supposed to cook, at least not as far as Genos has ever heard, but there's a pleasant smell coming from the kitchen. To help the ship conserve fuel, the cyborg is using the flamethrower in his palm to heat a pan of stir-fry. Smells great, at least! But with the black sclera and clearly entirely metal body, most people aren't gonna mess with Genos...]

[ Jack follows the smell of food into the kitchens, mostly on autopilot until notices that Genos is shooting fire out of his hands. Which... honestly isn't going to send him running. As long as he doesn't start teleporting with murder in mind, Jack's more focused on getting a bite to eat. ]

Is this an every man for themselves deal? Just curious.

You are allocated rations at the moment. I am consolidating my earned rations with my sensei's to give him a proper meal, as I do not require food to fuel my body.

[ Jack listens to the explanation, not really processing half of what he's saying. Who doesn't need to eat? ]

As long as it's not chips or candy bars I'll eat anything.

[ Time to go hunting for something that might be green. He's kind of missed green vegetables. ]

[Thane has been lurking on the observation deck for quite a while now, quietly - ha - observing the comings and goings of all of the various people (mostly human, he can't help but notice), keeping an eye on his network device, and formulating a plan of action. He's approached several individuals by now, most of them new like himself, piecing together information acquired from conversations together with his own experiences thus far. He normally tries to take his time forming a conclusion about this new situation, but in this instance, with or without all evidence as gathered up until this point, his conclusion is unfortunately the same as his initial gut reaction:

He really doesn't like this.

He intersperses his usual methodical approach with occasional bouts of spontaneity - that is, he'll sometimes address an individual out of sheer curiosity, rather than from an expectation of learning something concrete.

The man with the antique-looking short wave radio definitely sparks his curiosity.

It's always a bit of a challenge to him to approach someone so openly, but if he's learned anything in these past few hours, it's that most of the humans here (at least the ones he's spoken with so far) are unused to encountering non-humans, and that his sudden appearance from the shadows is not conducive to facilitating conversation. So he approaches openly (or as openly as possible, anyway; it's a bit of a short distance). His physical appearance may cause alarm ("Wow, an alien!" is a phrase he's already a little tired of hearing), but hopefully his presence will not.]

If it's any comfort, communication devices meant for long-range contact are also non-functional.

[His omni-tool is useless for making contact with anyone in, say, Citadel Space, for instance. Which is disappointing, but not entirely unexpected.]

[ Credit to Jack, when Thane approaches he doesn't automatically call a plasmid into his hand to defend himself. There's a green man talking to him. The part of him that's normally capable of absorbing new things and reacting is honestly burnt out so badly that all he does is stare at Thane for a little longer than is polite before he finally is able to articulate a response. ]

I figured it was a long shot, anyways.

[ He has a few false starts as he tries not to stare at Thane too obviously. There's a right way to handle this where he doesn't have to be rude or blunt. ]

...What are you?

[ Nailed it. ]

[He's endured so many stares and similar questions since arriving here, he's not even phased.

Though for some reason he does find the man's bluntness to be amusing.]

My species is known as "drell". Not to be confused with little green men from Mars - we're from a bit further out than that.

[So, so dry. Amused, and very dry.]

Drell, huh?

[ Well, there goes his next question. Not a martian, then. He rubs the back of his neck and tries to process that he's talking to an alien on a spaceship. This is stretching his mind a bit more than he's ready for. ]

Sorry. I'm not used to this... [ He gestures vaguely at, well, space. ] Stuff. I never met an alien before.

There's no need to apologize. You're not the first person I've surprised with my appearance today, and I have a feeling you won't be the last.

[His tone loses most of the dryness as he says this, traded in favor of warmth. There's no hard feelings here, sir.]

I take it the idea of space travel in general is outside your realm of experience, as well?

[He's politely curious; alien encounters and space travel don't necessarily go hand-in-hand. He knows humans had been dinking around by themselves in their own solar system for a number of years before they'd uncovered the Charon relay that had allowed them access to the rest of the galaxy.]

[ Jack shrugs. He was never too concerned with the whole space race thing, for whatever reason. The idea never caught his imagination. He knew some folks were more invested, though. ]

I still wasn't sure it was all that possible. Last I knew all that's been managed is a couple satellites by either side.

[ The sides being the Unites States and the Soviets. ]

It always seemed like stuff that was always gonna just be words in pulp books, never thought it'd be something I'd need to worry about.

So still more of a far-off possibility than an near one? Hmm.

[He had hoped that by talking to a lot of different people he might be able to make some sense of the process of the device that pulled them all here. He'd been told that it was completely random, but he's talked to far more people who'd never been to space prior to today than he has people who had. Of course, his sample size is quite small, currently, but he's got a growing suspicion that a larger pool of interviews is not going to change this interesting result.]

Out of curiosity, what year was it?

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[ Jack's looking a lot like Andyr had when he'd first showed up - like he'd just stumbled out of a desperate fight for his life, or something of equal import. thankfully, andyr's had a shower and a change of clothes since, and has now brought himself to settle against one of the thick glass walls of the observation deck, forehead touching the cool material, as he just takes in the vastness outside. again and again and again, every time his eyes shift he finds a new pattern in the stars he hadn't seen before.

it's been a while since he'd sat down here, a blanket from his room wrapped around his shoulders, just silently watching the endless black outside. there's something serene in it, like looking out towards the ocean and seeing no limit to it. like it could just swallow you up and you'd be lost forever.

that line of thought goes interrupted by the other trying for bloodstained massacre chic, and andyr lolls his head a bit, so it's more the side pressed to the glass then his forehead, squinting at the man talking into a shitty looking radio not far away. ]

You win the fight?

[ It's almost ridiculous how quick Jack got acclimated to being in a state of constant vigilance in Rapture, to the point where not feeling threatened is what feels strange to him. After his call to Atlas fails, he's quiet for a moment before Andyr's voice pulls him back to the present. He startles, hand reaching for a pistol that isn't there anymore before he relaxes. ]

...Depends on your definition of won.

[ He got away from Fort Frolic, but he gave Sander Cohen exactly what he wanted in the process. He's not gonna be able to close his eyes without seeing that damn quadtych for a while. ]

[ It's a gesture Andyr knows. Reaching to waist or thigh, or under arm when something spooks you. It's looking for a weapon, and he squints a moment at the man, judgments churning in his head, but he doesn't move. Eventually, there's a shrug offered. ]

I dunno. Does it feel like you won?

[ If he knew what the fight was, maybe he'd have a better answer, but he doesn't, so that seems decent enough. ]

Not a damn bit.

[ You don't win by giving a madman exactly what he wants. Four men dead. They were all as insane as Cohen but the fact was that Jack did exactly what he was told. He killed each one and took a goddamn photo of their dead bodies. He wouldn't have been able to get out of there if he hadn't but it still made him sick to his stomach. ]

But I survived.

Survival’s not winning.

[ spoken immediately and resolutely. Being alive is hardly all that matters, and the Houses taught him that very early on. ]

Sorry for your loss. Hope your life sucks less here.

Sometimes it's all you get, though.

[ But then again, he doesn't know what this guy has been through. For him, any time he didn't wake up in a vita-chamber was a sign he was doing something right. ]

As long as no one tries to blow my brains out long for me to get some sleep I'll be happy.

Sometimes it’s not fucking worth it too.

[ There’d been a time he’d thought that, in the early days at Hapsburg. Still figures some of the clone models would be better off dead. Easier and more dignified than living with what they’re purposed for. Miray v6 had agreed, and he couldn’t say he blamed her for it. Probably too dark of a conversation to be having with a stranger, but Andyr’s concepts of social norms are entirely fucked these days. ]

Haven’t seen any mass murders go down yet, so. Lucky you.

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[ There are a few things McCree's looking to accomplish today, but sudden electrocution is not on the god damn list. He pauses on the threshold, one boot in the room, one boot out, and raises both (flesh and bionic) hands. ]

Whoa, there, partner. I ain't got no quarrel with you. I'm just tryin' to get settled. How's about you turn off that light show you got goin' on and we can talk civilly?

[ It takes a moment to sink in that he's not imagining a goddamn cowboy in the doorway. Then, slowly, the electrical sparks from his hand sink back underneath his skin. The light glows in his veins before fading away entirely. ]

...Sorry. [ He hadn't even thought about what the extra beds in the room meant. He'd just been so goddamn tired. ] I'm not gonna do anything, I've just had a really bad few days.

[ McCree rubs the back of his neck--still red and raw from where he got choked, multiple times, by two different people. ]

Yeah, you and me both.

[ He crosses over the threshold, albeit carefully, his eyes fixed to this stranger's hands. ]

That thing you were doin'. Going all sparky. That something you were born with?

Edited 2016-08-12 03:42 (UTC)

[ Both of his hands stay firmly planted on the bed as a sign he's going to play nice. ]

No, it's kind of recent. From this stuff that rewrites your genetic code.

[ Because that definitely doesn't sound sketchy at all, Jack. ]

It wasn't fun but it came with some powers.

[ McCree takes the continued non-aggression as a sign to press forward. He lets his own tension settle, shuts the door behind him, and walks 'til he's right beside his new roommate. ]

Rewritin' genetic code, huh. We got tech like that, stuff that works on you on such a level. I ain't too familiar with it, though.

[ He lifts the brim of his hat, squinting at this fella. ]

I'm not the kind to pry into another man's history if he don't wanna speak of it. Just try not to electrocute me in my sleep and we're gonna be fine.

Likewise. As long as you don't try to kill me when I'm sleeping I'm not going to cause trouble.

[ And so far the distinct lack of murder attempts is working in McCree's favor because Jack holds out a (non-glowing) hand to him. If they're going to be rooming it's probably good to not be a total ass. ]

Sorry about the bad first impression. I'm Jack.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( august intro log )

Jack Wynand | Bioshock

Lights Down Low

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[ observation deck ]

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observation deck!

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cw: vague suicidal ideation

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nomo 22

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