sojournerdeep | Entries tagged with !open

It isn't the voice itself that brings Dorian out of his standby mode, but the tiny itching prompt running along his neocortex like little specks of light. It suggests, in the dry, jagged tones of someone he's come to respect and count as a friend, to update your files.

( Read more... )

sojournermod

On the edge of the livable complexes in Sojourner--on the rooftop of a dispenser-laden building, in the shadow of another and tucked out of the way--there is a garden. It's unremarkable, by Sojourner standards: a perfect, not-at-all-surreal set of concentric squares, with hedges bordering each level and four walkways that pierce the corners. Everything is built to a larger-than-human scale, including the flat ground-level fountain and the enormous stone sundial next to it.

The fountain goes on and off at irregular intervals, like many other fixtures in Sojourner at the moment; the sundial tracks no regular circuit of the 'sun.' The grass, somehow, remains green, and a little drier and slipperier than anyone remembers Earth grass to be. There are no walls at the edge of the rooftop garden, meaning that anyone who strays too close to the brink risks falling several storeys to the ground.

The garden is unremarkable, except for one thing: all triangulation of gravity incidents seems to point to here. Every ripple of low or high gravity that travels through the ship seems to begin at this place. This is the epicenter. And thanks to the community-gathered data, this fact is now very obvious.

Few people visit the garden, generally. It's out of most people's way. But it is accessible, and it is currently empty.

[OOC: This is a metaplot thread for those who want to resolve and interact with the ending of the gravity/darkness plot! Feel free to post your characters here at the garden, and they can interact with one another and the environment--we'll be posting more information/reactions from the environment as you variously investigate things--and good luck with the puzzle. :D]

altus_pavus

Then the Maker said:
To you, My second-born, I grant this gift:
In your heart shall burn
An unquenchable flame
All-consuming, and never satisfied.
From the Fade I crafted you,
And to the Fade you shall return
Each night in dreams
That you may always remember Me.

—Canticle of Threnodies 5:7

( Read more... )

killerangel

He feels the ground hit him, slamming into him harder than the bullets. It's the last thing he feels, or expects to feel, and he closes his eyes and expects the pain to carry him away--but it doesn't. He's left with the ground, which is solid under his back and shoulders, and... darkness, complete darkness. That doesn't shock him either; the pain being gone, he admits, is more of a surprise. But then again he's heard what men say about the last few seconds between life and death, in the case that you're afforded them. Goodnight Robicheaux closes his eyes and prepares--he supposes--to meet his maker.

( Trouble is, his maker is a little late. )

personaldemon

Many people might avoid the open-air spaces-- and wisely so-- during the instances of zero gravity that are intermittently plaguing Sojourner Deep. Not Jason Blood, at least, not at this point in time. He is on the edge of a footpath of polished wooden planks, one hand hanging on to the railing to keep himself from drifting upward, his feet stubbornly planted on the path itself, as if he were trying to assert a proper vertical orientation against this nonsense.

In his other hand he has a rock, a smooth white quartz pebble scavenged from the dry streambed below. He rubs it over and over in his palm, touching the smooth stone with his thumb, gazing upward at the sky arching overhead.

And then with a slightly awkward twist he cranes back and throws it, out towards that expanse of sky, sending the rock hurtling upward with some decent force behind it and no gravity at all to slow its progress. He squints up after it, shading his eyes with his hand, trying to follow the path of the rock disappearing against the expanse beyond.

[OOC: Open to anyone but I'd love for Jason to meet someone he hasn't yet!]

badwithhumans

Sela attracts some attention as she stomps from the arrival plaza, throwing glares around in her own right. Perhaps it's the outfit-- an obvious uniform in black and gray, with a tall shako hat; perhaps it's her scowl; but most likely, it's the shark.

There's a shark, yes. It's a shark about the size of a golden retriever, a really fat one. It has legs-- short, stubby ones, along which it is happily trundling. It has scars, much like its owner. It has a mouthful of grinning teeth and black, empty eyes.

It sniffs along the pavement/floor/various surfaces, the blunt gray nose whuffling, and the tall woman in the uniform with the shovel strapped to her back follows along with it, smoking a cigarette.

Should anyone stare a little too long, she growls around her cigarette, "Yeah, I know I look good, thanks."

But ultimately, following her shark leads her to an overgrown park, and then to a cave. Sela hikes up the rocks and rubble before the cavemouth, shouting up as she goes, "Toska! You great big dunderhead, are you in there?!"

[OOC: Primarily for Toska and Sela to meet up, taking place directly after this! However if you want your character to briefly encounter Sela en route, feel free. ;)]

breakeggs_savelives

( bye bye baby, baby goodbye - bye bye baby, don't make me cry )

badwithhumans

RIGHT

ABDUCTING A BRIGADIER IS PUNISHABLE BY, LET'S SEE HERE, FLOGGING, DEATH, FINES, DEATH, FIRE-WORM INTRODUCTION INTO THE GROIN, DEATH, YOUR BEING TURNED OVER TO USE IN THE BOTANICAL GARDENS AS MULCH, DEATH, DEATH, AND ALSO SOME DEATH.

SO WHOSE FISH-FELCHING IDEA IS THIS AND WHAT IN ALL BUGGERING BLISTERS HAVE YOU PUT INTO MY HEAD, YOU DEVELOPMENTALLY CHALLENGED PUS-BAG?

I'M ONLY GOING TO ASK NICELY ONCE.

[The user name sending this message is listed as 'HowAboutFuckOff.']

rlyprivateperson

Hello again, this is Harold Finch. I'm seeking volunteers for a little project-- Mr. Veidt, Mr. Holmes, and myself want to place some gravity monitoring devices through as much of the immediate city as we can reach. Ready hands and feet would be helpful in this task, as there's quite a lot of ground to cover.

rlyprivateperson

(This message is transmitted as both text and voice.)

Good... afternoon, I believe, though I'm not sure that has any meaning given the current chaos of our day-night schedule.

To those of you I haven't met, my name is Harold Finch. I'm from... a planet called Earth, circa 2014. My background is with computers; I've been attempting to figure out how to make the communications devices shed light... among other things. So far that hasn't been successful, but I have rigged a fairly simple, portable, and safe lighting device if anyone is still having difficulties with the lighting situation.

It seems we're all in... a very strange situation, and that the situation has gotten worse: most of the passengers I've spoken to say that the lighting and the gravity are not normally like this. I'm trying to ascertain if there's any sort of pattern to this, but it occurs to me others might be doing the same as well, and there's no need to duplicate data sets, so to speak.

If you'd like an explanation of my lantern-- there's a picture attached-- or if you'd like to discuss these recent fluctuations, please feel free to contact me. We are, I think, all very strange to each other, but I imagine that we all have one thing in common: we would like to go home. It might behoove us to work together.

(There's a picture attached of what looks like a glass tube halfway filled with water and capped at both ends with copper or bronze; there's some glowing blue ice cubes? inside the tube.)

likegrier

Hello?

Oh. I think it's working.

Hello. My name is Brier Delman and I am...advertising a service.

I had a lot of trouble finding clothing from the dispensers, you see, and I had to alter things. I thought, perhaps, some of you might have had similar problems and not as much skill with a needle. If you need help please contact me and I will meet with you.

Sorry to bother you if you don't need anything like that.

Um. Have a nice day.

infinitelystranger

This is surely a university campus. No, a temple. No, it's someone's private estate. Between the disputes of function and technology that the structures on Sojourner inspire, there are also mysteries of culture--and it is very clear that the original inhabitants of the ship did not arrange their buildings according to the same conventions as most humans. There are apparent staterooms adjoining libraries, seeming studies built into what can only be gymnasiums; the closer to the arrival hub (and, perhaps, newer) the rooms, the more understandable they seem. But the further out you venture, the stranger everything becomes.

( Sherlock has ventured out. )

breakeggs_savelives

It's dark. So very dark in the quiet corner of the quarters Reese found for himself some few days ago. It's a nice space: small, so blandly decorated as if no one's ever lived here before. It has a bed that's a bit too long for it to be strictly catering to humans (a fact he has studiously ignored so far), with a mattress that seems made to dip inwards towards the center as if-- as if to keep you ~~contained~~ from falling out of bed at night. It's a soft mattress, like the pillows. Too soft, where the bed sheets feel like tissue paper and the covers feel slippery and cloying like a bad aftertaste. Past the first night, John doesn't sleep in the bed, but rather curls up on the floor with his back to the wall, facing the door. There's only one conventional way in or out of his studio apartment, and that would be the front door. Then there's the small window overlooking the crystalline waterfalls that seem to come out of nowhere, and there's no way anyone can come through there without him noticing.

( Read more... )

sojournermod

The first thing: At what passes for mid-evening in Sojourner's day-night cycle, the lights--including the ones in the sky--go out completely.

Some little panic ensues. Most of the human denizens of the ship can't find their way about in pitch darkness, after all, and it takes some fumbling for flashlights and other sources of illumination to restore something resembling order to the people who are out and about. Many are worried that this heralds something worse. Some gather to say their prayers. But after about an hour and a half of this, the lights gradually wink back into existence, leaving the passengers in what appears to be more of a typical Sojourner nighttime.

The second thing: About halfway through the 'night,' the ship's gravity loses hold on most of its rooms. Or lightens absurdly, at any rate: sending items arcing aimlessly through the air at being touched, causing passengers to move at ridiculous leaps and bounds through the air. Other rooms are, strangely, affected by stronger gravity: making moving through them a slog. A few have lost gravity entirely. This too seems a temporary effect, which resolves itself before daylight comes: maybe a malfunction in the ship's computer. Though Ship's Services notably doesn't have anything to say about it: I'm sorry comes its vaguely placatory voice to many aggravated passengers. I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean. Anyway, things are back to normal before dawn.

Until it happens again. Both things.

The darkness floods Sojourner a few hours later. Then: again, almost a day later. The gravity effects come on and off at similarly uneven intervals. They don't seem to have any connection to each other, or to the day-night cycle...

...come to think of it, wasn't there a day-night cycle before? Now the duration of each time seems entirely arbitrary, and unpredictable: switching between what seem like high summer days and Arctic winters.

Something is going terribly wrong on Sojourner. (It's just a massive nuisance, others argue.) But it's not at all apparent what.

[OOC: Hello and welcome to Sojourner's first ongoing plot! \o/ Feel free to tag any of your characters reacting to any combination of the above events, at whatever time - or make your own post! See the OOC post for more details.]

vampapalooza

Spike has been on board this ship for roughly twenty-four hours- long enough to have answered a distress call, snooped about the infirmary a bit, although not as much as he'd have liked to; wandered into a strange corridor full of existential angst and Mr Finch (and Bear), offended several innocent people who are just trying to get on with their lives, and feels he is coming to some understanding of the situation at hand.

That is to say, there's no getting off this hulk anytime soon, no one seems to know where they are going or why they are here, or what is behind it. This all seems just about as expected. He's also discovered Ship's Services, whose voice is as soothing as a BBC radio 4 presenter's, and who seems to be fairly unhelpful in the matter of answering questions. But in a pleasant-sounding way.

She has directed him to the dispensers, though, and if Spike understands properly, these dispensers will dispense more than just the sub-par tea and biscuits he obtained for Jason Blood and Skywalker, they apparently will dispense all manner of things. Spike, being one of nature's personalities who will always test a theory by prodding it, is conducting an informal experiment at the moment.

He's decided to begin simple, and branch out from there. He reckons that asking the dispenser for things that are primarily artificial might be simpler than say, asking it to replicate a form of human blood that could satisfy the health needs of a vampire.

Red Bull is artificial in more or less every respect, so he reckons it's a decent jumping-off point. Also, he hasn't had any caffeine apart from weak tea in about twenty-four hours and he's getting a mild headache.

"Right," Spike addresses the dispenser, "I would like a canned fizzy drink. Light pink in colour, carbonated, containing water, vitamins, something called 'taurine,' and enough caffeine and sugar to light up a fleet of hummingbirds."

He waits to see what will happen. The dispenser is silent at first, then there's a rather promising little humming noise and a series of soft beeps. A panel slides open, revealing a recessed portion in the wall. Spike brightens as he reaches in and withdraws a can. Progress!

He shakes it slightly. There definitely seems to be liquid within. He cracks open the can and is rewarded with the hiss of carbonation. Even better! He lifts the can to his lips-- yes, it would probably be better to find someone to act as a handy guinea pig, but it isn't as though the average mundane poison would do him much harm, and besides, the tea wasn't poisoned, was it?

He takes a swallow and promptly spits it out.

rlyprivateperson

There is a passageway in Sojourner dotted with irregularly-placed stone plinths that serve as columns for a latticed ceiling. The first thing one might notice about it is the scent wafting forth; a sweet, warm smell that is... well, what is it? A scent from one's childhood, surely, a comforting scent. Fresh bread for some. Mown grass for others. But it's a scent that tugs one's lips into a smile, and twinges a string of nostalgia in the heart, and more often than not, draws feet in that direction.

Finch has one such pair of feet. He limps down the corridor, his leashed dog at his side; and he pauses occasionally to sniff the air, to smile absently, then to resume his forward progress and idle inspection of each of the rough-hewn stone monoliths he passes. There are no markings, but they glitter as if fine mica or quartz had been dusted along their slate-dark surfaces.

Another scent, replacing the fragrance of (for Harold Finch) a pot roast dinner. This one is... thick in the air, cloying, and Finch pauses with a slow blush creeping up his neck. (For Harold Finch, it's now the smell of a former lover's aftershave; for others it might be any number of scents that bring to mind intimate moments.) After a long, hesitating moment (while Bear whines in confusion, his canine nose registering entirely different things than a human might), he keeps going.

And any others who follow this fascinating olfactory trail to its conclusion - well, they find Harold Finch standing at a blank wall that fills the passage floor to ceiling. It appears to be steel - or something like it - its blank, ugly surface scarred and pitted with gouges and gashes, like a spoon put down the garbage disposal.

And for those viewing it? They feel a curious sense of existential dread, visceral, dwelling in the gut rather than the mind. There is no obvious threat. There is no sense of a knife-wielding maniac or a monster about to devour you. There is only that wall, flat, scarred, final as a summary execution, and the slow flooding awareness that all is meaningless, has been meaningless, will always be meaningless.

Harold Finch stands and stars, stands and stares. There is a cold sweat beaded on his brow, and he looks somewhat grey around the gills.

The dog barks, a worried sound, unsure what is wrong with his human but knowing that something surely is.

[ooc: Open to any! Finch is going to stubbornly return to this wall a few times, so multiple people should feel free to jump in and we'll assume chronological jumps if necessary. Feel free to add any details about this hallway you think would be interesting!]

altus_pavus

[text]

I am given to understand this thing can take dictation and send messages to the people here-- oh! Charming hand, that. Very precise.

Quite. My name is Dorian Pavus, most recently of a world you've probably never even heard of, nor care to hear of beyond the scope of courtesy. Long story. The more important thing is I have a question I'm sure one of you good people can answer.

Is anyone here looking for a very tidy, entirely charming house mate?

You can stop writing this down now, Book, I'm sure someon--

rlyprivateperson

There is a fountain here, and there are birds.

Harold Finch sits on the fountain's lip, heavily, watching the birds in distraction from his own helplessly spinning thoughts. They're not any species he knows. Vividly colored to be sure, a bit like tanagers perhaps with very long tail feathers. There's a mob of them darting and singing and screeching between some tree that is also alien to him (though he's never claimed to be a botanist. The waters of the fountain are beautiful, and they also seem to be operating in a way that neatly defies gravity-- circling in a loop of water that simply-- floats-- which on some other day would have him staring in utter fascination, trying to uncover the trick, so forth and so forth.

( Right now... )

altus_pavus

It's a nice room, the one he wakes up in. He's stretched out on a lovely divan, clad in the most exquisite brocade. It's a room he could stay in for quite some time, given half a chance. It's certainly better than his current prospects - perhaps there'll be a warm bed to crawl into at the end of the night, provided they find a way back to the present time.

That is to say, not the present future they're stuck in. The horrendous future, where red lyrium spreads to take over entire wings of Redcliffe castle. Where one of his countrymen made everyone's preconceptions about Tevinter mages come true - one of the foolish mages who think the ends justify all means you can think of.

( It's a big, hard, bitter pill to swallow. No wonder his head aches. )

thereisnochaos

The last time Obi-Wan had found himself waking in a strange place, things had been much less . . . formal. He'd woken on the floor, with a cheap duffel bag sitting beside him and a few light provisions. This room was bright and metallic, and he was immediately greeted with a warm, mild voice -- a man? a woman? otherwise? -- attempting to ease his concerns. It did, admittedly; Obi-Wan, for all his efforts to be comfortable with the meanest of furnishings and the simplest of attire, took a certain comfort in the familiarity of good technology. ( This place was more advanced. )

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Sojourner Deep - Panfandom RPG

Syndicate

Page Summary

50shadesofpurple - [Arrival log! Open as soon as he steps out from the Room]
sojournermod - [Open] [Location: A rooftop garden] All Things Devours
altus_pavus - [open]
killerangel - [Location: Arrival Plaza]
personaldemon - [Location - A park, during zero G]
badwithhumans - [Location] various --> Cave near Park
breakeggs_savelives - [open] sad songs say so much
badwithhumans - [Voice]
rlyprivateperson - [Voice & Text] - Seeking Volunteers
rlyprivateperson - [Voice & Text]
likegrier - [Voice log] [Open]
infinitelystranger - [Location: A strange complex] [Open] The observation of trifles
breakeggs_savelives - [open] wild dogs cry out in the night as they grow restless
sojournermod - [Open] To every thing there is a season...
vampapalooza - [Location] A bank of dispensers (Open)
rlyprivateperson - Location - a disturbing hallway
altus_pavus - [log] [open]
rlyprivateperson - [Location] - a central park
altus_pavus - [Location: Arrival plaza] [Open] The night is long, and the path is dark...
thereisnochaos - [Location: Arrival Plaza] [Open] always on the move . . .

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