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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( that she's prickly don't bother none, gene just ducks his head in a polite nod, takin' in her appearance as he does. the dichotomy to her dress is noted but sure don't merit comment, it almost reminds him of his ma.

the look on her face sure ain't, but. it's the little things. )

No ma'am. I ain't lookin' for anyone in particular, just checkin' up on folks an' seein' if they've any needs I can see to.

( it ain't just about the food. he ain't seen anyone injured, yet, but a lot of evidence of old wounds, an' it don't hurt to ask around, or at least get folks to a point where they know there's a fella with medical training around for assistance's sake. gene taps his free hand down against his medical bag. )

I'm a medic. Gene Hicks. Food's just me bein' neighborly.

( he's southern. it shows. )

How kind.

[Her voice is a bit dry, but only because she's trying to understand what kind of person dies and still focuses on others.

Hm.]

. . . thank you, then.

[She takes the food, so one point to Gene. And then:]

And when did you die, Mr. Hicks? What year?

( there's a wry touch at one corner of his mouth, turned up in answer. )

I'm comin' to see that's Beacon's version of a handshake.

( ain't unlike, name, rank and serial number. lordy. )

January, 1945. An' I'm from Alabama, before you ask, an' Earth if you ain't got a clue what an Alabama might be.

I spent a great portion of my life among Americans. I'm aware of Alabama.

[Although admittedly not, like, intimately. She spent a great deal of time in New York, and that was enough.]

1945 . . . that's one of the wars, yes? Or just after.

( his mouth twitches faintly off to one side. it ain't quite a grimace, but there ain't another name that suits it better. )

The Second.

( time magazine was callin' it that as early as '39, warnin' about the storm on the horizon. the great war stands alone, but his sure don't feel like a footnote to it, that's for sure. )

Just before the end, so far as I know.

( a matter of months, he's heard. there's been sympathy aplenty for the fact he didn't see the end of it, but. he did his part plain, an' he ain't one to complain on the matter of his lot. )

Did they tell you who won?

[She knows what she's seen and read in the books she's stolen from the future, but that doesn't mean it's consistent in all universes.]

( there's a wry little twitch to one corner of his mouth, half a smile. )

It's come up a time or two.

( lotta americans here, or american-adjacent. he thinks it's a sympathy thing more than anything, or maybe even a sense of gratitude. he don't like the idea much of bein' venerated for somethin' that just needed doin', but. he knows how these things grow into mythos.

he gestures towards the plate in her hands. )

I don't mind comin' back later if you're hungry now.

No. I'm conducting an experiment; not eating is a part of it. But I'll leave it for the man with whom I share the room.

[A beat, and she takes a step back, a silent come in if you want.]

That wasn't an answer to my question, though.

( he ain't rightly sure what manner of experiment warrants starvin' yourself — dead or no, he knows he sure still feels hunger — but it ain't for him to pry. he just nods, an' steps on into the room. his service cap gets doffed meanwhile, an' tucked into his belt. )

Sorry, weren't tryin' to be vague. Folks've told me that the war ended in May with an Allied victory, yeah.

That must be bittersweet.

[More bitter than sweet, in her mind, but she won't presume.]

Or do you not mind it happened without you, so long as it happened?

( he is silent a goodly spell. not on account of any real difficulty, save the fact that he thinks it's a question what deserves an honest answer an' he needs to sort himself out first. )

I don't mind dyin' without seein' the end.

( it's been so much of his life, an' he knows what happens after. it's always been a comfort. maybe he'd be different if he hadn't grown up seein' ghosts, but it's the only life he knows. )

But I'm worried about my boys carryin' on without me. They'll get a green medic to replace me, if'n they get one at all, and Ginny — my other senior T4 — is gonna have a lot on his plate. Folks can tell me plenty about general history, but ain't nobody going to know about them specific.

No. They won't.

[She sounds slightly distracted by that, but of course, he isn't the only one who left business unfinished.]

. . . I suppose there's nothing to do but try to move on. The mystery will nag at you.

[A beat, and she exhales sharply. Abruptly changes the subject as she meets his gaze again.]

Do you often cook?

( well, it ain't so abrupt as to give him whiplash, but he does blink some in the wake of the sudden change. he's startin' to think this lady might just be like that. she gives the impression of someone who has about a thousand thoughts a minute, like the beat of a hummingbird wing all encased in a clever mind. )

Yes ma'am. Fairly often, anyway, though not since I was home in Alabama. Just gettin' into the swing of it here in Beacon.

( you were lucky enough to get rations behind enemy lines, an' those you mostly ate cold. )

That's unusual for a man.

[Not a judgement. Just an idle observation, born from what she knows from her time and what she's sussed out from peeks into the future.]

Do you bake as well?

( unusual is pretty much his middle name at this point, so gene's expression is only faintly wry. )

When the mood strikes, I suppose I do.

( his ma never lamented her lack of girls, even after she was dead an' gone. but. there were things he'd wanted to do to carry on for her, anyhow. three brothers to look after besides, an' no shortage of meals needin' to be cooked and socks mended. robbie barely even remembered her, an' anyway the duties that'd been hers fell almost naturally to him, leastwise until he shipped off to brooklyn with ezra to learn his trade.

lord knows jesse hicks knew what he was getting into when he married a suffragette. his pa cooked just as often as his ma did, growin' up. right on up until he broke his back in the holmstead mine. )

I was plannin' on a pie later, if you think you're of a mind.

No eating, Mr. Hicks. But my roommate may enjoy some, and I'll direct him your way.

[But that's mildly interesting. She moves, sitting at her desk, gesturing that he might take a chair if he wants. She takes a screwdriver off the desk, absently picking at a complicated looking few bits of metal.]

Tell me how a man goes from the trappings of typical gender norms to baking.

( a bit of a grimace. )

Right, sorry. Forgot that part.

( he ain't well-used to anyone refusin' food. it's so innately southern. )

An' ah. ( his brow wrinkles faintly. this feels halfly like an interrogation, he's bein' taken to task through. ) It just weren't a thing we ascribed to in my family, ma'am. My Ma was a suffragette, she wouldn't'a stood for any manner of inequality.

( victoria hicks was a force of nature, an' his father loved the storm of her. gene learned about the rest later — by the time he came along, she'd been in an' outta jail more times than she could count but she was a fair hand at seemin' proper for the raisin' of her boys. it weren't until she died that he felt he came to really know her at all. he'd never known she was in the war, it just weren't a thing she spoke on. )

She passed on when I was nine, an' her duties came to me. Pa didn't want me workin' so young, so... he an' I split the cookin', an' I stayed in school at his behest.

[Oh, that's interesting. That really is interesting, and she actually glances up, blue eyes flickering over his face for just a few seconds.]

That couldn't have made her very popular around town. Or you, for that matter. People don't tend to like those who advocate for change.

( he shrugs a bit. )

We minded our own business. Don't think anybody in Agathine knew about her past, she weren't from the US.

( an' the adventurin' had mostly gone outta her by the time they settled in agathine besides. she wanted a quiet life with her husband an' ysobel, whom she'd loved so well in the war. )

An' nobody paid me no nevermind, I was gone to New York by the time I was fourteen anyhow.

( ain't an injustice witnessed he's never let go without intervention, but he'd been younger then an' more inclined towards politeness an' respect towards his elders. bein' in brooklyn didn't change that, but. in a way, it firmed up his resolve to stand his ground. )

Oh? And why was that? Don't give me that rot about it being the greatest city in the world; you ought to know better than that if you've spent any amount of time in it.

What led you there? It can't have been disgust of your hometown, you've retained too much of your accent for that.

( he laughs a bit. he weren't about to do no such thing, an' thinks it right queer that that'd be what she'd land on as a potential assumption, but. )

Ah, no ma'am. I went for a carpentry apprenticeship.

( there weren't much work in agathine, an' he'd been a mouth to feed at a table that could barely feed the five of 'em to start. the economic downturn hit alabama with some conviction. ezra'd only taken him on as a favor to ysobel, an' he couldn't hardly pay him either, but he'd learned a trade of value an' had a roof over his head for the intervening years. )

[Oh, hello, and she looks more intent all of a sudden.]

How decent are you at putting together, say, a small building? Just one room, really.

( he lifts his right shoulder up in a shrug. )

I'm a fair hand. Built several additions onto various houses. I couldn't do much about plumbin' or the like, but. If all's you need's a structure an' it don't need to be pretty, I could manage that all right.

And what would you like in exchange?

[Because that's more or less precisely what she has in mind: just a structure to house her things, and a roof to keep them dry. The rest she can do herself, adding on as need-be, but a basic building is what's required.]

( he's so direct it's almost refreshing, but he shakes his head anyhow. )

I ain't in need of anythin', ma'am. Just happy to help.

( it ain't like the dead have a currency. she can't get him home, or send a message to his family, she can't tell him how al's doin' over in the pacific. anythin' else is dust an' air. )

INTRO LOG: JULY

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