logsinthenight | INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

characters: everyone.
location: the harbor, as well as the rest of town.
date/time: december 1-3.
content: beacon's newest batch of residents arrives on the ferry. robin posts a bulletin.
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 glowing 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.

•••
The ferry has barely docked when everyone's tablets will ping: A new weekly bulletin has been posted!

...Aaaaaanyway, luckily for all the newcomers, the tablet and the town have some resources available for getting acquainted with their new situation! In fact, as soon as they're prompted to enter a network username, an app containing all sorts of useful welcome information will launch. Newcomers can always check out the weekly bulletins and the records in town hall as well, and everyone's welcome to get in touch with the NPCs through their inboxes.

ooc.

Hey there, wonderful players, and welcome to In the Night! You've happened to come at a chaotic time, as we've just wrapped up a rather large event. Half the town was stuck in a dreamland version of past Beacon, where they explored for clues about the town's history. The other half stayed awake and defended the town from a brutal onslaught of green-eyed, hallucination-inducing forest spirits. The town's pretty haggard after all that, so hey, there's a conversation starter! It'll be good to have some fresh faces around to help with the recovery process.

You can check out the various Enter Mr. Sandman event posts in the OOC and log comms if you're curious, and plenty of the details will likely come up ICly, as well! The aftermath is just beginning, and we're so glad to have you along for the ride. :)

DELIVERIES

The following packages can be found in the cargo hold:

The monthly store restock
For Eliot: A carton of cigarettes
For Prompto: 17 pairs of reading glasses
For Eleven: A pair of walkie-talkies, and enough batteries to last for 3 months of casual use
For Aziraphale: 12 drums, 11 lead pipes, 10 pairs of shoes, 9 wilting corsages, 8 bottles of milk, 7 taxidermy swans, 6 goose eggs, 5 stale onion rings, 4 bins full of duck armies, 3 dead chickens, 2 turtles, and a whole tree, though it's long dead... and strung with lights and garlands and holiday ornaments!
For Kol: A book
For Crowley: Peppermint extract, cream of tartar, a candy thermometer, a tin of cocoa, graham crackers, a generic bottle of red wine, a t-shirt with a crown logo on it, a book of love poems, and the goods
For Eleven: An assortment of wrapping paper, gift tags, ribbons, bows, and gift bags.
A lot of medical supplies. The supplies are plentiful enough that everyone may handwave finding common first aid supplies that will help to triage injuries sustained during the Enter Mr. Sandman event. The supplies won't immediately cure wounds, but they will help to prevent infection and ensure proper healing. There's even an assortment of painkillers, ranging from over the counter pills to IV morphine (though, hm, it seems each character will only be able to find one dose of the hospital-grade stuff, no matter how hard they search)

If you submitted an item request last month and we've missed it here, let us know!

QUICKNAV
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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There's a certain sort of frustration that seems to belong entirely to uncooperative technology. He recognizes it instantly. Which might not be enough to break down his shyness if the eyes didn't suggest, well, a level of technology that might be compatible with his own. It gets a little wearying, having people suggest you're "from space" as though that were a discrete location.]

What do you want it to do?

Literally anything at this point. I should be able to hack this. And it's not my cybernetics, because both are working just fine, I just--

[It's frustrating. And what might be solvable in other contexts is frightening in this, because everything he's ever worked for has just dissolved into ash, and he's dead, and there's nothing he can do about it.

So . . . the tablet. He sighs sharply and finally glances up at the man.]

You're not familiar with hacking this, right? That'd be way too easy.

[The open wearing of cybernetic prosthetics is still a little weird for him, but saying anything seems rude, and he's gotten used to Soldat at this point. And they're certainly practical. Or would be, if they worked.]

N-no, but I honestly... haven't tried?

[If he'd thought of it he might have. He's not exactly been at his best in the month since his arrival.]

I wouldn't beat yourself up too much. Chances seem good we're inside some serious shielding. They wouldn't just hand us a device that'd get a signal out.

Yeah.

[At least this person seems to understand basic technology.]

Have you, er, been here long?

Last boat before yours, so, uh, might not be the most helpful person for... logistics questions. Still, well, figuring it all out.

[He'll leave out that he spent two weeks asleep, because just because he'd lost all sense of reality before he got here doesn't mean he can assume the same of others. Better to let that hope of normalcy remain.]

Um, right, hi, I'm Rook.

Rhys Strongfork. CEO of Atlas.

[Former CEO. Whatever.]

Are you a programmer?

[He wasn't going to question that, what even is business.]

No, just--just a pilot, but I do my own repairs. You pick things up if you don't want to die alone in the infinite vacuum of space. And I used to repair the neighbors' droids when I was a kid.

[He sounds faintly apologetic. Never meant to imply that he was smart or useful.]

Repairs are important.

[What a dumb thing to say. He means it far more earnestly than it comes out.]

I mean . . . I'm amazing at computers, but not repairs. Hate doing greasy work, actually, that's usually why I pay someone else to do it. It's a good skill to have.

[Thanks, Rhys. God. ANYWAY.]

What planet are you from?

[Honestly it's sort of endearing. He'd forgive a lot more than a bit of social awkwardness over an opinion he sort of shares, anyway. Reasonable questions and an attitude to computers that doesn't treat them as a sort of magic. It's nice.]

A, um, a moon, actually. Jedha.

[And boy does he not want to talk about that, but he tamps the feelings down, because that is a question you ask when you meet people and he is being normal.]

You?

Huh. Don't think I know it, but there's a lot of planets out there.

[So it's overwhelmingly likely it's just a moon he's never heard of before.]

Eden-5. Pretty nice planet. Kind of dull in a suburb kind of way.

[He is likewise completely willing to believe this is just a matter of not recognizing the planet, though he knows enough to know it may not be true.]

Yeah, don't know that one. I mostly worked Outer Rim circuits.

Yeah? Doing what?

[Tell him stories of the Outer Rim, please. He wishes very badly he was in space right now; maybe he can pretend.]

I mean, repairs, I know, but . . . what, you set up shop as a mechanic somewhere, or-- I don't know-- run a chain of 3D printer garages that'd print out cars to temporarily rent?

[Kriff, he wishes he was even that interesting.]

Uh. Cargo. Mostly mining installations, but I'm good in-atmo, so I ended up on a... a classified route? Still just hauling boxes, mainly, though.

Classified in what kinda way?

The military research there was... important. It's a very long story but mostly not... that interesting.

I mean, kinda interesting. I'm a weapons manufacturer. If you ever want a job if-- when-- get outta here . . . could always use someone good at repairs.

His interest in the stranger immediately cools, though he's polite enough to try not to show it. Sort of successfully. "N-not, um, not... where my interests lie."

INTRO LOG: DECEMBER

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