logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: JULY

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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[Exhausted. Yeah, he knows that feeling. It's a wonder it never catches up with him enough to get him into a bed, but that's chronic insomnia for you. And since it can't kill him anymore, might as well just let it do its thing. He's never liked sleeping anyway.]

What's that? Someone actually trying to figure things out on their own, without having their hand held every step of the way? Unheard of.

[He appreciates it though thank you for not making him do everything around here.]

As for drawing, not yours, no. They've got very sensitive screens, though, so it's not impossible. Probably something I could push through the network.

[Wait.]

I'm sorry did you say snails?

[Hey, that sounds pretty good - and he's about to thank him for the quick and promising answer when a question comes his way. One he's already getting used to here.]

Yeah. I guess mine is the only world that uses those, everyone keeps asking about them. We use them for phones, cameras, video, all kinds of stuff.

[Hmmmmmm]

Snail must mean something different where you're from. In my universe, they're slimy little mollusks native to Earth.

[And easy enough to keep in space, so he's actually seen them in person, unlike most of the animals native to Earth.]

Well, in mine, they're big slimy mollusks we attach tech to.

[Shrug.]

Mine came with me, but it didn't make it. They're living snails, but they can talk to each other over long distances, mentally. They fit them with rotaries and receivers and each has its own frequency you can dial to talk to whoever owns it.

[But that's a very, very basic explanation. It's not like he knows the actual details, after all. He just used them. When one dies you get a new one and normally that's that.]

[Will mulls this over for a moment. It's not unheard of for species to communicate through some sort of neuron-to-neuron system, though not over long distances. But hey, he's seen weirder both back home and in this place, so why not?]

Hm. Some sort of biotech situation. Interesting.

[He doubts it would go over well if he asked to be able to take the thing apart. The guy probably buried it or something.]

So yours died? That could be valuable information. Nothing's ever shown up dead before, as far as I can recall.

Yeah. Can't really give a time of death since I didn't notice until about an hour after we got here. Might've already been dead on the ferry. Probably was. If you think it's useful, though, you're free to look at it. It's not buried that deep.

[It was, after all, a snail. More a thing than a pet and he doesn't harbor any real sentimental attachment to it. If anything, it was kind of a relief to bury it since it had been given to him by his brother on "joining" his crew. He was glad to be rid of the thing's eerie red-spectacled eyes always watching him, like it was never truly going to adopt his own.]

[So he did bury it. Called it.]

I could, though I'm no veterinarian or zoologist. But I could get something out of the tech you put on it, so I might take you up on that.

[But he's busy right now. Doing what? Who knows.]

What were we talking about before that? Ah, right, drawing. Some sort of artist, or do you just prefer that for taking notes?

For making maps. I don't want to be fussing with papers and ink out in the woods. The screen on the tablet would be easier to see in the dark and harder to lose track of. Seems pretty convenient to me.

[He may be entirely unfamiliar with the technology, but he truly is picking up pretty quickly on its advantages. If the screen can tell when he's touching it to type, then it can tell when he's tracing lines with a fingertip, he figures. And if it ends up doubling as a drawing app for people who want that, why not?]

Maps? You're right, that actually sounds like a good use.

[Color him surprised. Though this guy has been fairly un-stupid so far, so maybe it shouldn't be.

Will shrugs.]

I'll see what I can do. Shouldn't be too difficult.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

[Meanwhile, wow, the guy really looks like he's been sitting here ages, working on whatever all those parts are for. Is it dedication or madness? Maybe when you've been in the dark for however long, they become one and the same. He gestures at the scattered pieces with his cigarette.]

What's all this for?

[Rosinante is right on one front: madness and dedication often walk hand in hand. But then again, that was true for Will long before his death. He likes to think that they meet in the middle as "obsession" instead.]

Distraction. [From what, exactly?] Though it does serve a practical purpose. I can salvage the processors from most of these, and I can sort of daisy-chain them for better performance. It's crude, and it's no quantum system, but it's probably the best I'm going to get out here.

[Hm.]

Did any of that make any sense to you?

[Sorry, salvage the what and what and what system?]

Uh. [There's an awkward chuckle and he takes a lungful of smoke first.]

Not really. But I get the gist. Taking basic parts and combining them into a clumsy version of something better, right? You've gotta work with what you can come by instead of wishing for things you don't have.

[Boy does he know a thing or two about that. If he couldn't improvise while out on an assignment, he'd be out a job.

Aside from, you know. Being dead because of some improvising. And out a job. Hm.]

[A respectable (and correct) attempt at putting the pieces together. You're just full of pleasant surprises, aren't you Rosi?]

Essentially, yes. I can only imagine what I could do if I could get hold of a computer from my own world, but unfortunately, that seems to be beyond Rastus' grasp. And don't bother asking him for ships, either. Won't get you anywhere.

[So much for his very short-lived plan to just literally abandon this shitty planet.]

[Turns out being trained since childhood for intelligence gathering and strategy is good brain exercise. Who knew.]

Funny, I'd thought about asking for at least a dinghy.

[It's... look, space travel isn't actually a totally alien concept, but that's not the first association he makes with that word. It's not intended as that sort of pun. It is, however, still a bit of a joke.]

So of you three, who's been here the longest?

A dinghy. Ha ha.

[It doesn't occur to him that this is anything other than a pun. Who actually uses a sailing ship these days? Let's ignore the fact that it isn't actually the same year here as it was back home.]

Maybe if we covertly ask for pieces one at a time, we can build our own damn ship. See how close any of those stars are.

[Because there are stars. Which means that somewhere, there's a sun. Right? Anyway.]

Rastus has probably been here the longest, and I've been here the shortest time, ignoring you lot.

[Stars. Never mind who's been here longest, then. He can ask Rastus about that directly, later on. The realization that Will is suggesting space flight and even sounds half-serious about it is something of a revelation. Childhood fairytales come to mind. Old, old mythology about people living on the moon. The notion that some day he, too, will live among the stars with his celestial ancestors - a lot of rubbish, in other words. Something that never seemed quite real but was instead fabricated to make a group of people feel even higher above those they constantly trample.]

You meant a space ship.

[He suggests it almost cautiously. Maybe it was really just a very deadpan joke.]

Is that even possible?

[Will is aware, as he has been told many times by many people (who spoke different languages and were even of different species,) that it's hard to tell when he is or isn't joking. But this time he thought it was pretty clear, and the reaction takes him off guard.]

Of course I was.

[But that level of surprise, hm.]

You must be yet another of the ones from the distant past. My distant past, anyway, or something like it. Where I'm from, this sort of thing is just part of everyday life. I was born on a ship, as a matter of fact. Not including this place, I've only ever been planetside for a few months at most. So yes, it's more than possible. For me, it's just reality.

It's... actually part of our past, if the stories are true. Lost knowledge.

[Mostly. It's also definitely not a subject he's well-versed in outside of bedtime stories he hasn't heard since he was six years old. He sips his drink and frowns as he thinks it over.]

There was a society on the Moon, supposedly, a long time ago. But - that doesn't matter. Winters says there's no life in this world and nothing to find outside the town. What makes you think the stars would be any different?

[Not that he believes Winters in the slightest.]

[Will shrugs.]

It's hard to say, since we don't know what happened on this planet, but there could be others that were unaffected. If nothing else, we wouldn't be trapped in this town, on this lifeless rock, forever.

[Most of the time he's incredibly dry and sarcastic, but those words ring with a kind of sincerity. He misses the stars. He misses the endless freedom of the black void. Sure, this place shares a lot of that darkness, but there's nothing to it. It feels stagnant. More weight than weightless.

He sighs.]

But I doubt Rastus would bring us any nuclear reactors or other power sources, and the limits of this place might keep them from working anyway. So that route is probably closed to us.

[He doesn't have to know what a nuclear reactor is to guess at the context. Thanks, Will. Straightforward, clear communication without condescension? He appreciates it. There's a lot to learn, a lot of gaps in his knowledge, but he's determined to keep up.

And they have something in common, don't they? That desire to see more than they're given. Here he wants a boat for a lake, and Will wants to explore the stars and look for other worlds. That's really admirable, and he smiles to himself, just a little, despite the fact that both those dreams might be unachievable.]

Well, things could change. You never know. Your people found those things, and made those things, without asking for them from someone else, right? I'm not saying we should jump right to making, uh, ship fuel ourselves, but it's worth keeping an open mind on what's possible. After all, it's not like I thought I'd see anything after death, but here we are.

[A part of him appreciates the attempt to keep his spirits up, but a larger part of him sort of recoils. He doesn't need this. He shouldn't have said anything in the first place.]

Right, well, it took them hundreds of years, so I wouldn't place any bets on that one. That's a good point, though, I didn't expect anything either. I've never been a religious man, but that's not exactly an uncommon sentiment where I'm from.

[People clinging to old superstitions are generally regarded as foolish.]

I'm still not. Which is why I don't think this place is an afterlife.

[That too is something that's been weighing on his mind. Maybe it's lazy of him, but he was happy to let this be an afterlife. He gave up his life. He's gone from the world he called home and now nothing he can do will affect what happens there. There's a sort of peace in that. He's content with the decisions he made.

If this isn't really an afterlife, then what does that mean for all of those decisions? What does it mean for the little boy he had to leave behind? Is there some chance he can return that he should be fighting for?]

I don't think it's possible for me to have survived those injuries.

[Just, putting that out there.]

So if this isn't an afterlife then what do you suppose it is?

I guess for me it would've been about 50/50 odds.

[He makes a sort of wavering hand gesture.]

I probably would've survived with prompt medical treatment, but given the situation, that was somewhat unlikely. There was a doctor present, of the medical sort, so I guess there's a chance. Like I said, half and half.

[But he's not convinced that he did survive. Sure he might have, but he's fairly certain he didn't.]

Truth be told, I don't exactly know. Obviously it's another world from any of ours, a parallel universe, you might say. But why are there only dead people here? Did someone revive us or spare us for some greater purpose? Who knows. But if this was the afterlife, and if all universes funneled into it, I'm fairly certain there would be more of us than this.

[Half and half does leave more room for doubt, sure. For one person. And sure, a different world - though here he'd been thinking on more concrete lines. Another planet, somehow, in the same universe. Parallel universe? That sounds like complete fantasy. But again, there's no choice but to keep an open mind. He doesn't know enough to judge how rational or irrational such a suggestion actually is. And this guy comes from a time where they have space travel, so maybe parallel universes and everything else he's going on about are just as plausible to him.]

I wasn't assuming everyone had to go to the same afterlife. Maybe it's everyone who died in the exact same second goes here. Who knows what the rules are.

[Besides, a universe made up of everyone who ever died sounds like horrible chaos, so maybe he's a little bit glad. He'll trade not seeing his parents again for getting to avoid that kind of madness.]

I guess it doesn't matter what name we give it, anyway. Doesn't change that it's whatever it actually is.

[Oh good, scientific thinking. The nature of a thing doesn't change when new information comes in; it has always been as it was, people just discovered what that meant.]

You're right about that, though I don't think we should necessarily give up on trying to figure it out. It could mean nothing to our survival, or it could mean everything. Hard to say.

[He shrugs.]

INTRO LOG: JULY

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