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!"
manyvoiced: (Forty Two)

♪♪

[personal profile] manyvoiced 2016-01-15 06:22 am (UTC)(link)
[Breq has taken only the most tentative sniff of a small sandwich she'd found, a glass of the off-tasting drink in the other. She might be too suspicious to bother with the food so conveniently laid out for them if she wasn't starving. It was likely that all said and done it had been a couple days since she'd eaten properly.]

What's your favourite?

[She was sure any request she could make would be unknown to this person. But she loved hearing new songs, so that wasn't a problem in the least.]
spiritlift: (15)

[personal profile] spiritlift 2016-01-15 06:35 am (UTC)(link)
[ There was a brief moment of silence where Lewa just blinked at him. He'd never met anyone who didn't know what a toa was. ]

Yes, toa. Hero-save matoran? Battle-fight Makuta and his dark-creatures? Wear kanohi masks? Look like me but different colors?

[ He gestures helplessly. Something's gotta ring a bell. ]
likethelight: (09)

[personal profile] likethelight 2016-01-15 06:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ Is that even English. ]

I'm afraid I've never heard of anyone like that... [ Wait, does that mean he's not a machine? ]
jcw_vevilan: (Default)

[personal profile] jcw_vevilan 2016-01-15 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
"You are on Station Red. Right now, you are in the 'bar' area. It is for communal hanging out with your fellows." She continues to smile. "Feel free to help yourself to the victuals we provided."
likethelight: (219)

[personal profile] likethelight 2016-01-15 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
[ Erm...

No thank you. ]


Where's 'Station Red'? [ Because he's pretty sure this isn't England anymore. ]
perroquet: (05 feel)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ His head snaps to the direction of the automated bark, brows raising over his glasses in mild surprise. ]

Mechanical dog beast... very nice. I'll do my best to remember.

[ To remember about not crossing it or her, he doesn't clarify. Instead he walks back into the room, staff sliding lightly across the flooring. ]

Bill hm? That what that was-?

[ The end of the staff keeps scraping, making a soft metallic sound till it runs over the paper he tossed moments ago, and when it does he bends down to retrieve it. It still does nothing for him; there is no written language he knows. ]

Prob'ly from drinking last night then. What's the damage?

[ He holds it out in her direction, and it sure is upside-down and backwards-facing. ]
perroquet: (02 sweat)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
...No.

[ If there was any cheeriness in his voice before, (and there's usually a hint) it drops there. ]

I am your neighbor, two doors down.

[ Only one number away from the perfect band pun, how tragic. ]

Now what's all the yellin' about, little miss?
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ Unfortunately for him, he'd just asked the one creature in the bar for whom every place is dark. Gildor stops his idle picking at violin strings to sit up in his seat, at least trying to appear like he cares. He can tell the presence looming over him is large, and by the sound of 'hero' and armored movements, perhaps a fighter or paladin... not one he'd want to piss off. ]

Doubtful. Have you checked the bathroom?

[ Always the most logical place to search for missing friends in a bar. ]
perroquet: (06 song)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 07:31 am (UTC)(link)
[ He'd had his violin up, bow at the ready, and he still does but now he seems frozen in place. After a few tense seconds of processing the question, his arms relax as he lowers the instrument, head tilted in thought.

Favorite?!

Of course he'd been asked this countless times before in the courts of Esterport, but his tastes have changed so much since then, as has his view of the musical universe. ]


You know, for me it's really a toss up between Paganini and Minaj.

[ What. ]

Both a musical god and goddess of another world respectively, but there's something about their work that almost recalls the primordial words of creation that still echo through the cosmos. Pachelbel is also comparable in that nearly every song created after him is an echo of his work, but it gets so repetitive that it becomes annoying, especially when it can be heard across multiple planes, and I don't believe the Maker intended the same four chords to echo for so long but we are fallible mortals and can't help repeating ourselves! It's not quite as stand out to those with a plainer ear, but between Paganini's demonic skills and Minaj's strive for the purest quality-

[ He's dropping his violin to his side now and waving the bow idly around, and doesn't seem keen on stopping the sudden lecture anytime soon. ]

likethelight: (169)

[personal profile] likethelight 2016-01-15 07:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ 'Miss'... ]

My name is Allen... [ And whereas there's a polite kind of cheer in Allen's speech generally—well, it's a little sour now. ]

I think there's been a mistake. I don't remember coming here. [ And waking up with a bill. And a wicked headache. Again. ]
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 07:55 am (UTC)(link)
"Solutions to you as well! I am Gildor."

It's said while sliding one of the complimentary glasses of champagne across the bar counter to her. He thinks he's extremely clever for that. Hopefully it doesn't taste like horseradish, because it definitely smelled like it when he'd picked up another couple of glasses.

"I certainly would like some answers from a not disembodied voice. Please tell me, what is the name of this tavern and were you present when I drank a million-million gold's worth of alcohol last night? Because I rightfully don't remember, nor understand how I've survived it."

Whether or not he really believes that's where his bill came from, it's not stopping him from draining his own horseradish champagne.

"Also, were you the one who undressed me? Because if so, we need to have a chat about consent."
perroquet: (03 listen)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 08:13 am (UTC)(link)
Sounds like you're sailing the same boat as my roommate and I, Miss Allen.

[ He leans against the doorway and aims an ear on the girl. Judging by the sound of her voice anyway, she's clearly a fretful, perhaps slightly annoyed, much-too-young-for-him girl. ]

For right now, it seems as though we can only pray it is indeed a mistake. Although everything happens for a reason, even mistakes.

[ Like the one he's making at this very moment. ]

My name is Gildor. Would've been a pleasure under different circumstances, I'm sure.
likethelight: (.no why)

[personal profile] likethelight 2016-01-15 08:36 am (UTC)(link)
[ Oi... You... ]

...

[ f*ck it ]

I'm a boy. [ Said so sourly like it's the single worst phrase he's had to utter in his life. ]
perroquet: (02 sweat)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-15 09:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ If words could be tasted, that statement would likely resemble rhubarb fresh from the dirt. Gildor's mouth flattens to a straight line. Normally his ears aren't so mistaken, but he could've sworn...

Oh well, happened for a reason right? ]


Ah. Sorry about that.

[ Sorry for mistaking him? Or perhaps sorry for him, that he's a boy. He'll leave it there for Allen to interpret as he wishes. ]
jcw_vevilan: (Default)

[personal profile] jcw_vevilan 2016-01-15 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
She tilted her head. "Station Red is all around us. Are you experiencing visual deficiencies? The care we provide is hit or miss with your species."
jcw_vevilan: (Default)

[personal profile] jcw_vevilan 2016-01-15 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
The glass sits untouched on the counter. When she speaks, her voice sounds only mildly discordant, an improvement over her initial greeting.

"This is Station Red. The bar does not possess a unique name, but if you and your fellows would like to come up with a name for the eatery, please, let us know. We would be happy to file a change of name form.

"I was not present for your intake here, nor for your processing. I am your case worker; I only assist with your cases, not your bodies."

She sounds faintly scandalised.
twobastards: (lounging)

Roomies!

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-16 03:03 am (UTC)(link)
Liz had woken up with a wicked fucking headache in a bed that wasn't hers and in clothes that weren't hers. There was another shape in one of the other bunks, but he'd seemed down for the count when she'd poked him.

When he finally regained the land of the living, Liz had taken some excedrin, changed out of the uniform provided back into her (somewhat grimy, and definitely still a little bloody) clothes, and was inspecting Carnwenhau.

Lifting the blade closer to her eyes, she drawled, "I guess you saw the 'bill'."
manyvoiced: (Forty Three)

[personal profile] manyvoiced 2016-01-16 04:32 am (UTC)(link)
[Breq's eyebrows slowly raise as he talks, her usually fairly expressionless face working up to something that almost looks like a shadow of surprise. At last, she holds up a hand.]

That's all very interesting, it really is...but I'd really love to hear you play one of these songs.

[There's a note of stern impatience to her voice, very slight. It's really more of a nudge in a more productive direction. Surely she could stand here all day and listen to him talk about god knows what, but it really wouldn't do either of them any good, aside from killing some time. She wanted to hear a song.]
spiritlift: (13)

[personal profile] spiritlift 2016-01-16 05:46 am (UTC)(link)
[ Lewa snorted. ]

They wouldn't do something as fool-silly as that on a hero-mission.

[ He knelt down to get a closer look at whatever sort of creature it was. Were those lenses over it's eyes? Why wear a mask that didn't cover your face? ]

What is the eye-mask for, strange-friend?
perroquet: (Default)

[personal profile] perroquet 2016-01-16 05:47 am (UTC)(link)
He may be working on emptying his own glass, but he's listening too, quite closely. The bar is sparse with less background chatter than he's used to, and he catches every hint in her inflection as he comes back up, especially the hint of offense.

"My apologies."

Apologies for his assumption, or that she didn't get to handle their bodies? Could be one could be the other.

"What sort've cases are you assistin' us with then? And is this station with a nameless tavern indeed red? I'd love a description of the place if you could."

His magic has not been able to pick up on much past the closed doors with their wired locks. He feels rusty as the edges of the walls.
twobastards: (ehkey)

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-16 05:55 am (UTC)(link)
Limping her way down the hall, Liz watched as a man popped out of one of the rooms, looking like he was exploring.

"I don't think this is an inn," she said, stopping across the hall from him, leaning heavily on her cane. "It looks more like a bunker. And it smells like someone went overboard with the all natural cleanser." By which she meant that the halls reeked of Lavender. And Citrus. A terrible combination.
twobastards: (default)

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-16 06:07 am (UTC)(link)
Making it to the bar, Liz took in the decorations and food with an extremely raised brow. Picking up what looked like pizza dip, she gave it a cautious sniff before putting it right the fuck back down. It smelled like cabbage. And salmon. No, thank you.

Backing away from the table, she made her way to the only other person in the bar. It was the girl from the centre console; Kara, or whatever.

"Oh hey, looks like you're here, too."
valr: (into the ground)

[personal profile] valr 2016-01-16 06:11 am (UTC)(link)
Kara watches Liz's little investigation with concealed amusement, grateful that she doesn't actually need to eat to surivive, if this is what the people in charge think is edible.

"Looks like it," There's a nod in greeting, but that's about as much as Liz is going to get, "Guess they grabbed us from that shithole at the same time."

Which, whatever. It'd just be nice if they'd show their damn faces.
diamondhack: (oh damn)

[personal profile] diamondhack 2016-01-16 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
[She plucks the sheet from him, turning it rightwards now. She chuckles lightly at how wrong the sheet was.

A brow rises. Same as hers, it seems. Way too much, in her opinion, but her opinion became mostly unwanted since the CDC.

Mostly.]


Well you certainly drank more than your fair share. Impressive that you're still alive. [She clicks her tongue. The real question as to how this number was chosen will forever nag her, and perhaps she'd get that answer in her own time, but that's nothing she'll figure out on day one.] You have an iron liver, congratulations. Do you want to know the real number?
twobastards: (excuse me what now)

II

[personal profile] twobastards 2016-01-16 06:15 am (UTC)(link)
Liz was getting real fucking tired of this place. The hallway outside her room was migraine inducing, but turn the corner, and suddenly it was as poorly lit as a stoner's bedroom. Digging around in her pockets, she searched for one of her mini-mags before she realised there was a glow in the halls. That was coming closer.

Placing a hand on her hip (near her gun), she called out, "Boy, really hoping you're a friendly."

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