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

[Antimony is standing near the altar considering the trapdoor, frowning slightly in contemplation, when a hand falls on her shoulder. She stiffens, breath hissing out between her teeth in surprise, and her hands curl at her sides, though she manages to quash her initial instinct to react like a startled cat. She steps away, but turns smoothly, and folds her arms across her chest with her fingers tucked into the creases of her elbows.]

Pretty sure we're all off the map. Even the building doesn't feel like it belongs here.

Doesn't it?

⟪ Her hand withdraws back into the long, wide sleeve of her red dress. She considers the ceiling for a moment, not that much can be seen with the only light coming from their lanterns. If nothing else, she can appreciate that the woman didn't jump out of her skin. ⟫

It is a holy place. ⟪ It's what drew her in. ⟫ Of course it wouldn't belong here.

⟪ Then, quickly, her eyes turn to the trap door. ⟫

Have you tried opening it?

[Ah. A believer. Which really should be expected in a church, even one that doesn't appear to have been dedicated to any particular god - or at least any particular god recognizable from her own dimension.]

There are gods of the dead. I was thinking of the windows - they were designed with light in mind.

[She glances at the trapdoor, down and sidelong.]

It's locked, from the other side. I was trying to remember if I'd seen any others in the other buildings.

There is one god of the dead.

⟪ And one of the living. She has spent too much time in a country with seven false gods to much bother with politeness on the matter. Never mind that the other should not be worshipped, has no Temple, and certainly not one that would be livable – but that's another thing.

Besides, what she says next matters more. ⟫

You believe there could be a system of tunnels?

Maybe. Or maybe there's a bomb shelter built under the church. It would make sense - churches are the kind of place people run to when there's a disaster.

[Even if it's nearly empty now. Even if the exterior bears no scars - or at least none that are visible by lantern light from the ground. It's not like she'd scaled the building to inspect it.]

Either way, if it's locked, that means someone probably locked it behind them on the way down. I don't know about you, but I'd like to get some idea of just where that someone might pop up again before they do.

Oh, very much so. ⟪ What in R'hllor's name is a bomb. ⟫ I have seen none thus far, in no other part of the building, either.

⟪ A pause, a tilt of her head. ⟫

Then again, were I to construct anything, the exit point I would choose would be somewhere in the forest.

[Annie tips her head slightly in acknowledgment.]

If the purpose was escape, an exit in the forest would make sense. Or if the purpose was to let someone in from beyond the town's boundaries.

[She drags a hand through her hair, wincing slightly as her fingers catch.]

Whoever designed this place must get a kick out of adding mysteries on top of mysteries.

INTRO LOG: JULY

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