shiftmods: (Default)
shiftmods ([personal profile] shiftmods) wrote in [community profile] videodrome2016-01-07 04:37 am

LOG 001: INTRO

WELCOME TO STATION RED.



You wake up in your bed.

Not your bed back home, of course, but the bunk that's been assigned to you. Your new bed for the next foreseeable future. You’ve been dressed in what is the basic uniform around here. (OOC note; your newly issued equipment is detailed here.)

Your own clothing, of course (the clothing you came in wearing, that is) is folded neatly, and all of your other belongings are present and accounted for nearby, and near them will be a piece of paper, a thin carbon copy of your bill. Of course the word ‘bill’ is the only word in your native tongue on the paper, the rest in a completely indecipherable alien language. That and the number, of course.

1,000,000,000

The room is sparsely furnished, small, and some would say cramped; someone with a less negative outlook might call it utilitarian, or hey, why not even cozy. The bed is just soft enough to be comfortable, but not luxurious, although it probably feels like you slept on a slab of concrete after what you’ve been through.

And what have you been through? Your memories preceding your awakening may be hazy at best, and you certainly won’t remember any of your arrival here. Characters who were present at the Interim will remember it. You might have a headache, light-headedness, nausea, strange lights or shapes in your vision, or sounds in your ear, although any life threatening injuries you may have had just before waking up here will be gone.



Characters will be free to explore their location, STATION RED, although at the moment, much of it will be unavailable, corridors shuttered off, gates closed, with no obvious means of access. It’s a sparse, almost military type of place, high ceilinged and warehouse-like in the big areas, with more cramped feeling interior rooms and hallways. There seems to be a significant level disrepair here, with exposed wiring, and chipped or scratched finishes common sights. This is closer to an old bunker than a five star hotel. There will be no windows anyway, making it impossible to tell where you are.

If there’s one thing that’s consistent, whether in your room, or a hallway, or anywhere else, video screens, seem crammed in unlikely places, and are ubiquitous. They’re all black at the moment, and some are cracked, looking like they might never come on.

The only place that really seems lively, and as if anyone’s been occupying it in recent times, is an area that looks something like a bar.



Its not quite this populated yet.


The bar-like area is decorated in an odd assortment of paper decorations and streamers, a small banner that reads ‘Happy New Year!’ strung near one of the tables, which is piled with the only available food. There’s cake, a variety of snacks, shrimp cocktail, an ample supply of  glasses of champagne. And almost all of them taste wrong. Some items might taste exactly as you’d expect them, others taste distinctly like something they should not, and those shrimp have the notable taste of absolutely nothing. Something is definitely not right here.

When the screens come on, there’s an audible electronic popping noise, and a woman’s face appears on the screen. The image has some static, but there’s something strange about the woman as well; something...insubstantial.


“Welcome, everyone, to Station Red! I hope you like what we’ve prepared for you here...I apologize, it’s something of a work in progress. We are working with limited resources here and your arrival was somewhat….unexpected. It’s been a long time since we’ve had dealings with anyone from your particular coordinates.” She smiles broadly. “I almost forgot, my name is Solan Re. I’m the Senior Case worker for, ah...well for you. On your behalf.

Take your time and enjoy the refreshments we've provided you - they're as culturally accurate as we could manage with our somewhat limited resources, informational or otherwise. In the meantime, I am here to answer your questions as, I'm sure you have many. I will answer them to the absolute BEST of my ability!"
twobastards: (sceptical brow 2)

brah isok!

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-31 04:02 am (UTC)(link)
She shrugged, brow raised. "No prob. You need another one?" She's raised a kid and a Marc; she held her hand up at the ready, just in case.
twobastards: (lounging)

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-31 04:08 am (UTC)(link)
Ripping a mouthful off, she swallowed some of it before giving her own two cents.

"Well, you can always go talk to the creepy woman at the bar. Maybe she knows something." Liz herself can't get close; something about the woman makes her face hurt, which isn't doing her headache any favours. But maybe someone else can get close.

Finishing her bite, she slumped even further into the couch. "God this fucking sucks."
valr: (a fugitive driving away from)

[personal profile] valr 2016-02-02 10:31 am (UTC)(link)
"No one important's gonna be locked in here with a bunch of pissed off, armed strangers," If anything, Kara almost feels sorry for said creepy woman. She's obviously so unimportant that she could be risked easily.
valr: (and you're off)

[personal profile] valr 2016-02-02 10:34 am (UTC)(link)
"You got colleges? Universities?" If wherever he's from doesn't have those, it's going to take a bit more explaining, so she'd rather know first.
valr: (wings aflutter)

[personal profile] valr 2016-02-02 10:37 am (UTC)(link)
"Depends on how they got me, seems like they rely on tech a lot here," There's obvious disdain in her voice. Not necessarily at technology itself, but more the over-reliance that she sees a lot.

She's literally old man yells at could dot jpg

"If they've got fucking laser guns, might as well go out trying."

But at least she seems to have grasped the concept that she might be slightly out-gunned (out-manned).
diamondhack: (deadeyes)

[personal profile] diamondhack 2016-02-03 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
She glances down at Q-11, who in turn glances up at her. She understands a bit of the sentiment, really, but when there's a woman with a prosthetic arm and a robot dog...

"Think a little more subtle and you may get places, love. It's not always laser guns and death."

Isha can't even believe she's having this conversation again with completely unrelated people this time around.
spiritlift: (03)

[personal profile] spiritlift 2016-02-03 05:37 am (UTC)(link)
[ Lewa looked rather bemused. Not that Gildor would notice. Sounded like a certain ice hero he knew. ]

Well, guess we'll have to quick-change that.

[ He's going to be your friend, you don't have a choice. ]
spiritlift: (13)

[personal profile] spiritlift 2016-02-03 05:38 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh? Hunter of what?"
perroquet: (01 grin)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-02-03 08:30 am (UTC)(link)
I'm in no hurry.

[ Challenge... no, friendship challenge not accepted. Actively trying to not make friends would mean actively trying, and Gildor is too passive in most things to give a damn. Hence the lack of friends. While he wants to get to know the other strangers stranded here, he's not going to do it with plans to build relationships.

So he falls quiet and focuses again on his music, nothing more left to say on that topic. ]
murdercat: (Dont.)

Re: II

[personal profile] murdercat 2016-02-04 10:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh, fantastic. Where were they pulling these people from? Golems, children, the infirm, and now the invalid. He pauses a moment before waving his hand tentatively in front of his face, before realizing that he had his eyes closed, regardless. He closes his hand, feeling a little foolish, but hey, at least the man would never know.

"I get the feeling that you, with the rest of us, are expected to pay 'A Billion' for some manner of services rendered. I don't suppose your copy was in braille?"

He was loathe to admit it, but he felt slightly better being a bit more up to speed than someone.
murdercat: (Absolutely Not 2)

Re: II Stomp on the Ground

[personal profile] murdercat 2016-02-04 11:01 pm (UTC)(link)
Look at what? More aliens. And of all people.. He hoped she proved to be discrete.

"Not better."

There was still a throbbing pain behind his eyes, he still couldn't focus on anything, and his ears hadn't stopped ringing since he woke. He sits heavily, two stools down, with a huff. Holding the bill aloft, he raises an inquisitive eyebrow. You too?
murdercat: (Pensive)

[personal profile] murdercat 2016-02-04 11:20 pm (UTC)(link)
"A transfer and a trip? I may have to ask you for the full story later."

[His head still felt fragmented, and he was fairly certain he wasnt holding it perfectly still. If the ringing in his ears would subside, it would at least be that much easier to think. He couldn't place this Maias' affect, but it was more than capable to hold a rational conversation. At the very least, he didn't believe he was some matter of voodoo houngan, which put him quite a few pegs above his last associates. Calling spirits and raising the dead, indeed. There was a hopeful tidbit; a silver lining..]

"But you did go back? What do you figure the odds are this time?
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-02-04 11:41 pm (UTC)(link)
There's a shift of fabric, the smallest rush of air. Gildor's had hands waved in front of his face enough times to notice the subtlest signs of the rude gesture. He makes no move to stop it, though, nor does he flinch. Payback comes best with knowledge and patience.

"Oh, yes, the woman I'm apparently sharin' quarters with was kind enough to inform me. And the other woman at the bar explained what those services rendered were."

He's not about to go re-explaining, though. Not while he's still coming to terms with where he is and how he got here himself. Hence the third... fourth... seventh? He's lost count, but he's got another glass of champagne in the hand not holding onto his tall staff. And after that first impression, he's not feeling particularly generous about sharing what he's learned. Especially when this gentleman clearly needs a lesson in basic manners and how to use a bloody indoor voice.

"In my experience, askin' kindly is the better way to go about gettin' answers. For example, I'll now ask you kindly, because I am unfamiliar with it... what is braille?"
murdercat: (DENSE Motherfucker)

[personal profile] murdercat 2016-02-05 12:07 am (UTC)(link)
[There wasn't enough time in the world to explain all of the fallacies he was presented with.

...but it wouldn't sit right with him if he didn't counter at least a few.]


"Not habitable?! Then send us back! I don't care how bad the storm has gotten, its going to end eventually."

[Wouldn't it? If they were on a different planet, he had no idea what the weather systems were like. Regardless, they were brought here somehow. He gestures at the bill again.]

"This is beyond illegible, this-... this is gibberish! What supplies, and what energy? What are we being charged in? What is its purchasing parity?! And what is this even written-... no, what are you speaking to me right now? How..."

[He goes still and his eyes narrow.]

"...How do you know my name?"

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