logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: JULY

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: july 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. winters, will, and rastus introduce themselves and explain the situation.
warnings: n/a.

welcome to beacon.

It's dim, and the room won't stop swaying, gently rocking you back and forth. A loud sound startles you fully awake, a deep, moaning call: a foghorn. As your eyes adjust, you note faint red light streaking through the room from a tiny, round window.

You've found yourself in a private room, lying on a bed. The last things you remember are the events that led up to your death. Beside you is a folded tablet and a lantern that glows steadily with a healthy flame.

You're on a ship. And that ship is docking.

Making your way to the deck, and eventually the pier, you find only moonlight to greet you, and a dark forest beyond. There are other people here, each with their own unique lantern, and many of them look just as lost as you are. On the ferry you've just disembarked from, the speaker system begins to play a song.

In the distance, across the waters of the lake, you can see the tall silhouette of a lighthouse, its red light slowly turning.

•••
Winters and Will are waiting for you on the beach. Winters flags you down from where he's standing atop a large rock, surveying the gathering crowd. Will stands next to him, though he's monkeying with his tablet and looks rather bored. He barely looks up as Winters speaks:

"First thing's first: I'm sorry you're here. There's no easy way to break this news, so let's just get it over with, hm? You're dead. Or, ah, you've died. Call this the afterlife if you want, or don't if that ain't your thing, but point is, you're here 'cause you died. Those are the facts.

This world's dead, too. You've noticed by now it's pretty dark, yeah? That's 'cause there's no life here, not anymore. And that lantern you've got? That's your life, so to speak. The flame goes out, you die, and vice versa. Keep it close. Should be easy enough to remember on account of how the sun don't rise. You'll need something to see by.

This place is called Beacon, and that's Lake Red Jacket. Town's 'bout a mile down the road, and we've got a bonfire there, but that's the only other light you'll see in this place. Save for the moon and all, though the sky won't do you much good out in the woods. I'll let Rastus explain the bonfire to y'all.

Ah, right. I'm Ben Winters—Winters'll do—and this here's Will Ingr— What? For christ's sake, Dr. Will Ingram. Likes to think he's the brains of the operation, as you can see. If you've got questions about these tablets, he's your guy. Rastus tends to the fire, and you'll find him in town. He's married to his job in a way. And you may never've seen a person like him back wherever you came from, but don't make a big fuss over it. He's a nice fellow. Mind your manners.

The three of us are leftovers from past resets. We came here on that ferry just like you, but it's just us left now. 'Sides the Lighthouse Keeper, but it'll be a bit before you get to meet her. She's got control over the town, see, and if she ain't satisfied with a group's performance, they get the axe. Town gets reset. If she pulls a reset on you folks, a couple of you might end up like me and Will here, giving this speech to the next crop."

The red beam of the lighthouse pulses over the group, over the trees. Winters glances up to watch it swing out over the bay.

"But don't hold it against her. Ain't her fault we're in this mess, and we've all got a job to do, including you.

For now, concentrate on accepting your lot, yeah? We're here to answer your questions, but we ain't gonna tell you all there is to know just yet. Some things are best learned on your own, and some of it we just don't want to saddle you with yet. There's a limit to how long we can stay here safely, that's true, but thing is, we do got time. Time enough to play this smart. Do better than the folks before us did. Settle in, make peace, explore a bit if you're up for it. Use these first couple weeks to come to grips. You ain't gonna be any good to the town if you don't sort yourself out before worrying about what comes next.

So listen up: You're dead. You died. Whatever your old life was, it's done now. None of us can go back, so all we've got is forward. Welcome to Beacon. Could be worse, yeah?"

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! For this intro log, all three NPCs will be available for chatting with, whether your character wants to make casual conversation or ask questions about all this. The headers on each NPC toplevel are there for easy reference as to what each of them are responsible for, but you're welcome to go to any NPC for whatever reason. You're welcome to assume your character has overheard any NPC conversation to learn more about the game. After the NPC threads have died down, we'll compile the info learned ICly and add it to the game history page. If your character would contribute something specific to the game history records, let us know!

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ that's a point, and raylan knows it, but the idea of waiting until someone decides it's time to start fucking everyone else royally up isn't exactly in raylan's wheelhouse. he'd much rather be one step ahead. it doesn't make sense to him that everyone here is a "good person," whatever that even means any more. especially in his line of work, he's seen more criminals go down than well-meaning innocents, which begs the question: where the hell are all the criminals? sure, he's met functionally shitty people here already, but none of them strike him as murderous or intent on stomping on everyone's mildly good time. they have to be somewhere, though. ]

Yeah, excuse me if I ain't wide-eyed and bushy-tailed enough to accept the kumbaya approach. Call it years of intuition. [ for the first time since they've struck up a conversation, he actually gets an eyeful of who he's talking to. as far as raylan's concerned, peter might as well be a college student, his actual age notwithstanding. still, though, he doesn't seem to be talking out of his ass: inexperience is the kind of thing you can usually smell on someone, and whatever scent he's giving off, it isn't that of an ingenue. ] You put enough people in a place where they can do whatever the hell they want without fear of consequence, you're not only waitin' for shit to hit the fan, you're paintin' on your clown makeup while you do it. [ he gestures with his glass of awful bourbon. ] What'd we do to stop 'em? Kill 'em?

Alright, Christian Bale. [ punctuated by a breath of a pause: there's a whole lot to be said about the things in between the fear of consequences and the shit-fan, but first: ] We're not killing anyone. [ a comment that generally only tends to further the impression of peter as a sanctimonious little shit. that's not to say he's never come close to it, isn't incapable of understanding why it's a line that might be crossed, might be deemed as necessary on occasion, but—

he inhales for a moment, before exhaling audibly and waving a hand dismissively in return. ] If anyone comes close to crossing that line— [ then what? good question, one that peter doesn't know the answer to, not yet. there's no raft here, no—

—oh, but there is a lighthouse. that they... need to find a way to get to. ugh. ] —we find another way to deal with them. [ beat; concession: ] Look, I'm not trying to say that everyone here's going to be a good person. [ peter puts his coffee down for a moment (god, it's terrible), holds both his hands up. ] That's statistically — not impossible, but very unlikely. [ anyway. ] The thing is, consequences don't stop everyone, which is something I'm sure we can both agree on. So where do you start? How do you identify who's unsavoury and who's not? [ p a u s e; a glance and quirk of his lips. ] Intuition?

[ good god, he talks a lot. it takes raylan a second to catch up, and in the pause he wonders if it'd be rude to just slip off when this kid's back is turned because he's making a lot of valuable points and raylan, in his infinite wisdom, had really just wanted to gripe some and complain about the unsavoury people hanging around. all the same, though, he has a sip of his drink and manages to clear his head enough to formulate a reply. ]

Well, I ain't sayin' anyone should start linin' folks up and decidin' what kinda person they are based on gut instinct, 'cause that's just plain crazy. Only thing we can do is expect the worst.

[ there's a momentary silence at raylan's last response, one where peter mentally concedes that yes, raylan has a point: the only thing they can do is expect the worst (because god knows, they have no idea what's going on.) that said, whilst peter almost professionally expects the worst, he simultaneously hopes for the best, which basically means—

—he's not going to jump to too many assumptions. you know, apart from all the times when he totally will jump to assumptions. ]

—Sure. [ beat. ] I mean, I wasn't going to assume that a creepy death town was going to be a picnic in the park. I just don't know if everyone else is going to be the people we need to watch out for.

INTRO LOG: JULY

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