LOG 001: INTRO

[shiftmods]

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!"

Comments

[wethrinaer]

Crazy? [the tone is all mock-offended and mock-hurt. He even pouts, very briefly, before the amused expression makes a return. He gives an elegant shrug, and a smile breaks out on his face]

I assure you, sir, I'm quite sane. Just very, very amused by our current . . . circumstances.

[pachintoki]

[Gintoki turns a little more, boot still a lingering threat. At least, it might look that way. In reality, he just wants to go back to bed, or find some food.]

Yeah well, it's not really that funny. . .

[He'll shift his stance some, going from wary to a bit more relaxed, casually setting a hand on one hip.]

Like, I thought that maybe since you were laughing, this was all your fault somehow.

[His eyes will narrow somewhat, but he'll continue in a tone that's not quite friendly, but not quite threatening either. His voice, under everything, just sounds a bit lazy.]

Because it's not, right? This isn't all your fault somehow? Say, what's your name? Spill.

[wethrinaer]

It certainly is not my fault, thank you. [the grin disappears, and he gives a huff, offended] I have gone through something very similar to this before, and I'd not wish this upon anyone else.

[it's true, he did the space adventure already. He wasn't at all happy to be doing it again, especially with a huge bill to pay off]

Spill? [he briefly looks confused, then - ah. Modern language] I am Maias. Well met . . . and you are?

[pachintoki]

[So apparently he's dropped being wary enough to stifle a yawn. That doesn't necessarily mean he's not watching you closely, Maias. Gintoki folds his arms over his chest as another yawn threatens to escape, finally turning to face Maias all the way. ]

Maybe we've all ended up somewhere we don't wanna be at one point, huh.

Anyway, if this was your fault you probably wouldn't be stuck here too, right? I don't really care.

Sakata Gintoki. It's Gintoki, I mean.

[well look who's calmed down now.]

[wethrinaer]

[don't worry, he's used to being watched closely. In fact, it's familiar enough to make him . . . relax? What a weird guy]

And it would be foolish of me to toss myself into the fray, so to speak, if I were responsible for all of this. But I assure you, we are in the same position.

Well met, Gintoki. Is that your preference, then? Not Sakata? [he says it slowly, trying to pronounce it the way Gintoki did]

[pachintoki]

[Suddenly stepping into Maias' space now, eyes narrowed again.]

That's exactly what a person who came up with all of this would say. Like, you know, if you're just pretending to be an innocent victim here.

[so much judgement now. But then he'll back off again--

And do something that Maias has either gotta get used to or just ignore, as he picks at his nose a bit with his pinky, and casually flicks it in no particular direction.]

It's Gintoki. A lot of people at home called me whatever they wanted.

[wethrinaer]

Oh, I'm not pretending. [he puts both hands up disarmingly] Why else would I laugh the way I did upon seeing my bill? One cannot fake that.

[being in the constant company of bandits and worse for most of his adult life, Maias doesn't even blink at Gintoki picking his nose. It wasn't a habit he enjoyed, certainly, but it was one he could easily overlook, amongst many others]

Gintoki it is, then, if that is what you prefer. I'm rather easy when it comes to name preferences.

[pachintoki]

[He'll give a long sigh. This was seriously such a pain.]

Maybe it's just like being laughed at, you know. Like you just thought everything was so funny.

[He'll rub his face with both hands, clearly tired and annoyed. . . . but then he'll stop. After a moment, he's turning back to face Maias, head tilted and eyes narrowed just a bit more as he stares in what can only be called confusion before he talks again, quieter this time.]

O-oi. . . say, where are you from anyway?