milagros: ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴏᴅᴇʀɴ sᴘᴏᴋᴇɴ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ (ᴏғ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀʟʜᴏᴏᴅ)
[personal profile] milagros2016-02-21 03:32 pm
Entry tags:

voice. un: mggd.

( to cut a long story short, there were two new arrivals, this month. mila had been elusive by design, seeking out the half-finished molded tree that she'd been working on before her absence - the overlay of a few months memories is nothing compared to the hell of a dozen lifetimes blurring together when they first arrived - and clinging to it as the last familiar thing. protecting it from the fire. praising it for how it had grown the way she wanted it to.

she does, eventually, have to acknowledge something beyond her tree. so.

very blandly, and in a voice that will be familiar to some who were present for the announcements she periodically made on behalf of medical or xenogen-- )


I leave you people alone for ten minutes and you set the fucking jungle on fire.

( what's that about. )
hairrands: (Neutral - Uncertain)
[personal profile] hairrands2016-02-17 08:56 pm
Entry tags:

Audio | username: fleetside

Before you go flinging shit all over me, I know there's worse to worry about right now, but if any of you knows how to sew and has the cloth to spare I'll find some way to pay you back.

These blue rugs make shitty ponchos and unlike some of you lucky bastards I never got more than one set of space pajamas. I'll take spares, too, if that's all there is to go around.

[AJ's voice is utterly defeated right now, but then she's been wearing one of those bolts of blue alien fabric that had been collected from a month or two ago, the badly folded likes of which have been covering the shredded back-side of her crew-issue jumpsuit for the last two days. She's been feeling about as comfortable as a cat in a festive sweater.]

002 ● ( un:mechanic )

So this is probably a really stupid question
but
What do dogs eat?
I mean
I know what they eat normally
it's just
Considering
our predicament
& limited resources.

Mammalia aren't exactly my area of expertise.

PS- I got a light to turn on.
[ aka phase one of the grid: complete. ]

text un: chell

[After a lot of thought she's decided against video, because she still doesn't like talking and wants to get her point across without messing it up]

My name is Chell. I'm one of the few people left that worked in Agriculture on the ship.

Looking for people to help in the new gardens. You don't need to know anything about farming or growing food, just have to be willing to listen to instructions and help out.

If you do have experience, that would be great.

If you have any questions leave them here or come looking for the woman in the orange jumpsuit.

Thank you

coldhardy: (snow queen)
[personal profile] coldhardy2016-01-12 12:15 am
Entry tags:

[video] (un: elsa)

[The video is very short: the camera focuses on one of the pieces of strange fabric that fell during the jump, then changes position so the cloth can be seen from a different angle, causing a shift of light that makes the writing show up. She speaks over the image, but isn't on camera herself.]

I found this, and I know I wasn't the only one: there was more of it out there.

If this design is writing, can anybody read it? I've never seen it before.
Entry tags:

text [un: mustang]

Anyone out there have a lighter or something? Flint? I could use anything that creates a reliable spark. Matches, even. My scavenging efforts are apparently subpar when it comes to finding things I could actually use. On the other hand I've found a superfluous amount of spoons and broken screws so if anyone needs those I'm your man. [Look, not everyone can be a hoarding genius, okay?]

I've seen a couple of nice-so-great looking animals a little too close to camp for comfort. Open sores, mangy, probably not a good sign. I know some of you hunt. I would definitely steer clear of those. If you kill one, it might be more prudent to burn the corpse than butcher it.

That I can do. Without setting the whole damn jungle on fire.
fullmoon: (Default)
[personal profile] fullmoon2015-12-13 08:01 pm

text (un: rjlupin)

This isn't a Support survey because Support no longer exists, but if you have a moment:

(1) Are you working on anything you need help with?

(2) Do you have help to offer other people?

(3) Do you have any weird skills that you don't currently know how to use but might come in handy someday if we're in the middle of a crisis and need someone with e.g. an extensive knowledge of 1800s Australian history to save us all?

(4) If we make a short paper guide to where we are and what's happened, so that in the event that we're all killed in one go by acid rain or vicious dinosaur-bears but the ship continues to turn out new people, they have something to go on, what do you think should go in it?

(5) Do we have a better name than dinosaur-bears?

Thank you. :)

username: fool (with potential action)

[Well, the username seems only natural.

Anyway—]


put up some traps up north. bout half a mile.

[IT'S LITERALLY BEEN A MONTH SINCE HE'S BEEN SEEN and this is what he returns with. Hi, guys, you wouldn't even know he was back if not for the fact that he's just using the network to warn preemptively about something. He's in desperate need of a haircut and his beard is getting intense because he really hasn't touched it since he shaved, uhh... the first month of landing? He's a fast-growing beard machine, guys. Not that you can see it, because Mr. Anti-social is all texts today.

He attaches the coordinates for the general areas of where they are, just FYI. He wasn't going to because he thinks it doesn't matter, but then he realizes y'all are gonna bitch about not being precise. And god help him, he doesn't want to deal with complaining people who want to go south.]


it's for the food supply in camp.

don't walk into them.

i don't want to eat you.


[... But feel free to have not seen the message and walk into them anyway. They're the good old-fashioned types: pitfalls that are horrible to climb out of, and those annoying rope-to-tha-ankle tree traps that drag you a story into the air. He'll come across you eventually to complain and huff and puff and get you loose.

Good times.]
divaricate: easystreet @ dw (• being a boss tbh)
[personal profile] divaricate2015-12-03 11:14 pm
Entry tags:

» text | username: wmaximoff

Hi. My name is Wanda Maximoff, and I have been here ... almost a month, I think. Several people who have been here longer than I have, have been kind enough to share with me what they know of this place, and believe me – I am grateful. So, thank you, again, to everyone.

Anyway, as it is, I hate feeling powerless – my abilities are not what they were back home – and being stuck on what is an alien planet, so in an attempt to feel like I am better prepared for certain things, would anyone please be willing to train me in more hand to hand combat and be a sparring partner? I know I am out of practice with using what I do know without the addition of my stronger abilities back on my home planet. In exchange for your time and efforts, I can help you out with any of your own tasks that you might need or want help with.
axeyou: (stare - you're the bitch)
[personal profile] axeyou2015-11-20 10:00 pm

voice || username: JOHANNA

So since no one else is going to talk about it...

Let's do a vote. Show of hands. How many of you think we're all alone here? A whole planet of pretty woods, jut for us. And how many of you think that we can't be alone. Maybe there's some city out there. Too bad you can't leave the camp.

And how many of you think that we're, like, totally surrounded. I hear that's a thing. Because there's spears, and they're stealing from us. Blah, blah. Tell me something real. If there's someone out there? I'd like to get to them first. I'd like to think everyone would agree with me, but I'm sure I'd be wrong.

Actually, you know what I'd love? I'd love for them to come by and try to get at my stuff. Consider this an invitation.

[Mirror] Potluck Sunday

[If anyone saw Harry's mirror message not so long ago, they might be confused when a smirking copycat appears in the sliver of mirror. Despite looking alarmingly like Harry's younger brother, this is a very different person.

Well. Sort of. But James doesn't have all of that information just yet.

He offers a cheeky wave to those paying attention.
]

Hullo, you lot. Seems like we've got loads of nasty business going on lately. Dunno what's up with it all, but I've got a proposal.

[He pauses dramatically. Leans close to the mirror like he has a secret.]

Potluck.

[He leans back again, beaming.]

I'm thinking tomorrow night. See what you can make in the way of edibles and let's all compare and share. Assuming nothing mad happens between now and then. Who's in?

Text. The truth is you have no control who lives who dies who tells your story

[This comes from username "etliberte"]

I want to tell you all about my friends. I'm typing this so it'll stay around. Especially for the people who were on the ship. My friends stayed behind to make sure we actually got away. They died so the rest of us would have a chance.

Jean Prouvaire
Ambrose Bahorel
Guillaume Feuilly

Jehan was a poet. And a student. Most of the people at the barricades were students, but they didn't want to learn nearly as much about as many topics as him. He hated the way things were for women and children in Paris. He loved the very idea of love. He had dreams.

Ambrose studied law, but endeavoured to never become a lawyer. He won't have to worry about that now. He loved bold fashion. He loved to be bold about everything. He was never one to hesitate.

Guillaume wasn't a student at all, he worked making fans. He was a man of the people and wanted them all to see that there could be a better world. He carved Vivent les peuples into the wall of the cafe where we used to meet.

Maybe you didn't know them. But I did. And they died for all of us.
doggedly: (pic#3067479)
[personal profile] doggedly2015-10-05 11:59 pm

MIRROR || 01

[In your hand, if you've been ""lucky"" enough to have been given one, is a dull shard of a mirror. Some friendly bloke probably handed it to you, possibly with an an explanation, possibly not. And now here's why: at some point mid jungle afternoon, you will find that mirror is glowing.

And speaking.]


Hello from your mirror!

[Waving from the narrow surface is an image of Sirius and James, a crisp rendition clearer than any video. Their voices may sound a wee bit tinny, but only just.]

Your mirror, which has helpfully--magically--been connected to all of the other little bits of mirror that we've found--which is replacing the old network, fondly as we all remember it--and by the way, you’re welcome. Thank any witch or wizard you see in passing for this minor miracle, 'cos we’ve worked tirelessly, without rest, to make all this possible.

[A moment of silence to commemorate the kindness of wizards, interrupted by James:]

We accept most forms of gifts. Food's recommended. But I'm not opposed to loads of praise.

Muggles can use it, as well. Just shout at it 'til it works. Some of us were concerned you lot are all five, so rounded edges are a thing. No stabbing anyone with your mirror if they send a message to the bloke you fancy.


No real private messaging, mind. Whatever you send out, make sure you’re wanting the whole world to hear it. I won’t be held responsible for any secrets leaked or confessions made. Nor will James. Will you, James.

Right. Though there's a secret password. Just a heads up. Private messages. Ask me about it later. Especially if you've got something really interesting you don't want anyone to hear.

[The look that Sirius shoots him will go more or less unnoticed and, if noticed, will be otherwise misinterpreted--but James will understand it, and probably Remus, a little bit. He nearly speaks the language, enough to get the broad strokes such as: James Potter, you magnificent creature.]

Yeah, that--and my final note is, I'm still working out emojis, but don't worry. They'll be back.

Cheers, Jungle!


[Twin mock salutes, and they're out! The mirror flickers, and goes to smooth glass again.


red is SIRIUS, blue is JAMES. any questions, please lay them on us at our ooc post!]

007. video.

Tests conducted on blood samples taken from the prisoner quarters have identified DNA previously isolated in samples taken from gurneys in the labs.

[ No hello, no good evening, Tranquility. Erik delivers the news with flat affect, leaned lazily off center in his seat. He’s wearing a white lab coat, one eye masked blind behind a patch and the other set dead on the comms device. Speaking of blood, the fingerprints smudged into his lapel are a familiar shade of reddish brown, for those who’ve been on board long enough to ruin a shirt or two.

He doesn’t look happy to be here. These days he rarely looks happy to be anywhere. ]


[ And Charles is here too, his own comms device sat in front of him and transmitting nothing, fingertips occasionally tapping the screen in favour of shuffling around paper notes.

He also isn't happy to be here, but he combed his hair and everything. His lab coat is clean. ]


The gurneys, along with reinforced cages, appeared on level two of the science department several months ago. Relics, perhaps, of the genetics lab that came before. As for the samples themselves, they contained evidence of human and animal hybridisation.

The blood stains also possessed inactive nanites, which meant I wasn't able to identify them definitively using the nanite technology that's been made available. However, I took some micrographs, and compared them with micrographs taken previously, and they were visually identical to active nanites with programming functions like
[ and you can hear the disdainful air quotes as he reads it off his device ] "manticore advancement" and "manticore adaptation".

The manticores were prisoners. They were moulded by Van Rijn’s scientists.

[ Erik is more concise. He seems to be having some trouble separating his teeth. ]

Naturally Eszter has been mum on the subject of interplanetary conquest.

More vocal on the topic of saving the human race as she knows it. [ Somehow, Charles' input doesn't really undermine what Erik just said. He elaborates; ] I believe that what went on in the science department was kept a secret -- the majority of the original crew had no idea what was happening. They believed the Tranquility was their salvation and hope. I was able to get-- this impression from Charlotte Danaiu. What she knows is rather limited, but what she has access to knowing is. Greater.

[ This isn't Charles' favourite part, because it feels beyond his usual abstraction. He manages not to glance at Erik. ]

The presence I've talked about taking root in the ship, that has access to our minds, that has abilities we've begun to tap into-- upon talking to Charlotte, and reading her mind, I received the impression that it came here on account of the manticore experiments. I don't know how, or what it wanted, and I also know that no one on the ship intended it to happen, but-- it's what I think Resnik meant, when she talked about retribution for their sins. Something about what they were doing brought it about.

[ And he finishes there, not so eloquently, but unsure how to talk about it much further. ]

We’ve decided to call it Moira.

[ Also eloquent. Erik picks up again before Charles can interrupt with more than just a 'seriously?' side along glance: ]

We’ve consolidated what we know about it and the humans we’ve encountered from this universe into a table anyone can update. I’m attaching a link to the file to this transmission.

The aim is transparency and education. We should all be on the same page.


[ He leans forward to disengage the device, filling the frame. ]

Thank you.

[ OOC: Erik is maroon, dark green is Charles. FILE LINK - this is an IC document, feel free to contribute with IC knowledge and experiences. Characters need not feel obligated to identify themselves when making entries. ]

[Accidental Video] y'all suck

[Max knew this whole stupid mind powers thing was a generally awful idea. Elizabeth and even a little bit of Rey's work on the comms (even if he still would rather glare at her, in private) had done a relatively bang-up job making Max think maybe there was a shadow of possibility this powers business would actually do any good for them. Besides — if he could calm his mind down enough to actually control it, he would stop giving away memories and hallucinations and feelings all willy nilly. So yes, he tried focusing, tried materializing things, tried to keep it all in check. Nothing too personal — just channeled it. Other than a few rather personal thoughts hovering through the cracks from other people he'd never know the names of, he has had pretty good luck.

'Til of course, a particularly rough series of nightmares had caused him to muck things up. He'd woken up in the corner of his room with something heavy and rough against his jaw and cheekbones and lips. Somewhere in his fervent dreaming, he'd gone
and materialized that fucking muzzle; the same one he had supposedly locked up in his locker, kept away so that it couldn't actually get used against him again. And now it's on his fucking face. 

So he does the totally wise thing, which is struggling pathetically to remove it with his hands before he rushes into the nearest kitchen and starts pulling out drawers and ripping open cabinets. The motions are rough and not too careful, and his network device crashes onto the ground and displays him pretty much wrecking one of your kitchen areas. This drawer? He's pouring it out on the counter and digging around. It's all spoons, who needs spoons. There's a knife and he tries to shove it under the padlock behind his head and scrape it open, but it's just grinding down the grooves on the blade.

As he pushes over appliances and spills someone's coffee, this is an approximate translation one can hear while he spits the dummy:]


Fucking [INCOHERENT CURSING] shi—fuchgk [INCOHERENT GROWLING] my face, for fuck's sake, bloodghy— [???????] FUCK!

[WHERE THE FUCK ARE ALL YOUR SHARP THIN STABBY OBJECTS, I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN AWESOME HIGH-TECH KITCHEN

EGG-BEATERS ARE NOT GOING TO FUCKING CUT IT.

He tugs pretty pathetically on the long chain hanging there, slips his fingers under the thick metal bands before he tries to shove a butterknife into the keyslot.

....

THWUMP.

This the sound of his forehead softly thunking against the cabinet door in frustration.

... Well, maybe there's a decent nail file somewhere in engineering or something...

Fuck your powers y'all can eat your powers and get indigestion and cark it, for all he cares.]


((OOC: Action permissible for Nami and Elizabeth, have fun girls.))
cantfixtime: (naturally you're the only one)

video

[Serah's face comes in way too close for comfort, if only for a second, before she sets the camera down on a table, propped up, to offer a waist-up shot of her. Offering a smile, she waves.]

I hope everyone can see me. I haven't used the video option much, but we had similar technology on Cocoon. [Her hands intertwine in front of her.]

My name is Serah Farron, and I got here on the jump before the last one. A few of you had talked to me, but I figured I should introduce myself.

Back home, on Cocoon--well, Gran Pulse, I guess, but that's not important--I was a teacher. I don't think we have much of a school set up here, and I know most of us have jobs, but I wouldn't mind teaching anyone up to high school subjects if they wanted it, and I could teach survival tactics as well, but I'm not sure if they'd be useful in space.. I was a jack-of-all-trades teacher since I was the only one in my village, and I don't have any official certification, but I think I can handle it.

[Her smile grows brighter. She's not sure if anyone will take the offer, but she's always willing. It would bring some sense of normalcy, here.]

Also, I'd like to get a job in support or security, if there's any need. Thank you for listening!

[And with a wave and then darkness mixed with the sound of jostling, the feed turns off]
ontheline: (pic#9220206)
[personal profile] ontheline2015-06-13 08:53 pm

[VIDEO]

Tranquility, huh? Is anyone going to rename it anytime soon...? Because no offense, but it's like calling a big guy Tiny. 

[How's it hanging, guys!  Sure has been a weird week so far, right? Hughes wants to get some stuff figured out. Mostly, he wants to know more about the people he's being forced to be with now — it is essential that you get good footing with those who are handy and capable and decent here. And of course, it gives perspectives that a welcome entry, informative as it is, just can't provide in full.]


Lt. Colonel Maes Hughes, reporting in. I guess that doesn't particularly matter here, though I have to admit, this is way beyond my usual freak storms when it comes to crazy things happening outside of everyone's control. And some of you have been putting up with this for a while, huh? You have my condolences, and a metaphorical certificate from yours truly for keeping your sanity. 

... Assuming you have, anyway.

So!! The best thing to do while I'm deciding where I belong here — who's up for drinks? I guess I should precursor that with me really wanting to know particular information left outside of the welcome entries; the who's who, your own personal accounts of your stay. I'd like to act as a personal recorder of your own individual troubles within the Tranquility, how you're doing with your own individual departments. I'm still personally figuring out where I'd prefer; security sounds well and good, but I'm not a fan of putting myself into the danger zones — yeah, yeah, even in a place where it's pretty much a given. So communications is looking pretty nice, even if I'm still trying to figure out how the technology here works.

... My world's a little lacking in some respects, I'm noticing. 

[He grins.]



And hey! If you'd rather just grab a beer instead and just appreciating someone as annoyed as you about the place, I'm good for that, too. Besides, I've got plenty I can tell you about myself. And about fifty-million pictures I'm guaranteed you're dying to see! It's one of the few things I'd say this ship got right!

[.......................... fifty-million is a mild exaggeration]

... No guarantees I'll carry you home if you get dead drunk, though.

Last time I helped someone home, I ended up getting my shoes puked on; I only have one good pair here!
culver: goodjobself @ dw (just one yesterday)
[personal profile] culver2015-05-23 03:44 pm
Entry tags:

► 016.

[the video shows a teenage girl, all blonde hair and blue eyes and petite features. small, white-feathered wings stick out from her back, rigid. she's uncomfortable. her head hurts, her nose has just stopped bleeding. she hasn't been sleeping. the familiarity of these symptoms has prompted her to make this post. she keeps her expression calm, collected. she feels anything but: grumpy, worried, exhausted. but she hopes that the way she looks will make her words easier to comprehend and less alarming.]

These kinds of nosebleeds and headaches have happened to us on the ship before. It was a long time ago. Over a year I think. They stopped on their own last time so hopefully they will this time too.

[there's a brief pause before she types the rest of the message. she wants to warn them about the memory connection that happened last time, but she doesn't want to start any unnecessary panic. she decides to forego it for now, biting her lip.]

If you get blood on your clothes saltwater can help get the stains out.

text;

[ Home vs. the Tranquility is an obvious choice for most people. For the ones from somewhere particularly awful, the ship's the better option; and for some, there isn't much of an option at all.

Fitz had spent several months thinking he was part of the latter group. He'd thought home meant certain death, so he should appreciate cheating it while he had the chance. Since that had been proven wrong, home had resumed being the obvious choice, despite all its complications — but now Jemma's here, and things are somehow better than they'd been back at the Playground. Add to that a friendly research team offering help to the passengers of the TQ, and the end result is dwelling on questions he probably shouldn't be.

And a broad question for the network, minus much context.
]

Whenever the ship's docked somewhere, it's been too dangerous to stay. But if it wasn't, or if you could get off the ship without going home, would you? If it were possible to go somewhere safe. Different, and not home, but safe.
knackered: (♚ why the fuck is he being interrupted)
[personal profile] knackered2015-04-11 07:52 pm

☂ two ; video

[England clears his throat. This is his first video broadcast across the network, and he wants to avoid an embarrassing situation like his mistaking the text function for a telegram the first time.]

Right. Yes. This feels oddly informal but if that's what's done--

--I'll be brief and to the point: I've got two questions.

First, could anyone from Earth who's lived through the twentieth century tell me of its history? Ah, the version of Earth where the British Empire exists. I would like to know how the world changes in the next hundred years. It doesn't matter when or where you're from, I'm just very interested.

My second question is addressed to the users of magic on board the Tranquility. Sorcerers, witches, wizards, healers, mages; whatever you are, how does magic work in your world? What sort of spells do you use? Runes? Talismans? Perhaps a proxy via a familiar or even technology? I've been practicing magic for as long as I've been alive--that's over fifteen hundred years--but one can never learn too much.

--Ah, I'm rambling. Excuse me... [He straightens his shoulders, tilting his nose up to be as dignified as possible.]

At any rate, I've one more announcement: I'm willing to trade tealeaves for sewing supplies, or anything else. Especially alcohol.

[Arthur pauses, not sure how to end the feed, but he just decides on something simple.]

Thank you.




[*edit/ooc: I'm aware of what he's asking. Bring on the temporal spoilers.]