24 February 2015 @ 06:51 pm
[Clint doesn't post to the network very often, mostly because she's too busy doing whatever ridiculous thing she happens to be up to at any given time. But today, she'll make an exception because people have been talking about things that alarm her, and she figures it's as good a time as any.]

Hey, so.

[She'll stop eating raw lemons long enough to speak coherently.]

I've been hearing a lotta stuff. About how we might not end up being here for very long.

[She doesn't really know how to feel about that, but she does know that it makes her somewhat nervous.]

So I wondered if anybody here knows how to make a souffle. I never found anybody back home who could, and so I've never done it.

Not like I'm the best cook in the universe or whatever but. Ya know. I still thought it might be kinda cool.

[She starts to cut the feed, and then abruptly makes a sound almost like realization.]

OH! RIGHT! Does anybody have any hair dye? Is that like, a thing we even have here? Maybe like pink or blue. Something exciting like that. But yeah, anyway. Anybody has any info on souffle, let me know.

[There's the sound of something like her starting to snap a rubber band as the audio feed cuts.]
20 February 2015 @ 01:45 pm
[sophie is holding the comm too close to her face, so it isn't all visible at once--it's a pair of pale eyes, a mass of dark hair, the sort of sharp cheekbones acquired from poor diet. the camera wobbles and then settles into place just far enough away to get her entire face, and the glimpse of a dark room behind her. the only light in the room is coming entirely from the comm. when she speaks, her accent is lilting and her voice is low.]

So I have discovered that the light comes from lightning channeled through metal wires in the walls. [that might explain the darkness around her.] Which is quite clever, truly. But it doesn't answer my question of how technology differs from sorcery, except in that people seem to believe in one or the other. Is technology simply an aspect of sorcery that has not yet been discovered where I am from? While difficult to believe, I suppose even my father could not have known everything.

[a pause, and she pushes her hair back from her face. it's clearly a nervous gesture.]

Also, how many of you have come here alone? It seems many are in familiar company with others from their homes, but I believe I have arrived unaccompanied. Not that this is an unusual situation, but still...

16 February 2015 @ 12:05 pm
I have been thinking.

[Eponine avoids looking into the camera, favoring, instead, to look beyond it.]

After the events of the previous jump... For those of us who are dead where we come from. Here, are we... undead? For we have come back to life here.

If so, why are we different from the zombie dudes? I wore rags, too, once, and was nothing more than flesh and bones. [She's gained weight here, becoming healthier, from her gaunt looks before.]

Yet I breathe.
11 February 2015 @ 05:01 pm
[This is the first time Dorian's used this strange device of his to broadcast, though he arrived during the jump before this one. Best to be sure of what you're doing, to take care and try things out so you don't look like a fool. There's also no reason to speak to the group unless you have something important to bring up.

And oh, he does.]

As I remain here, I've gotten more and more concerned. Upon arrival, it was easy to ignore, as there were so many things to get used to, but I'm afraid I can no longer continue to stay silent.

[Dorian holds up the jumpsuit he found in his locker when he woke here. There were his mage robes as well, luckily, which is what he's wearing now - and perhaps that explains the look of disgust on his face.]

It's a travesty that some of you choose to wear this. It's so dull - no colors, no fine fabrics, no accents at all. Is there truly nowhere to procure decent clothing onboard this space ship?

[He says 'space ship' carefully, the unfamiliarity of the words sitting strangely in his mouth.]

I desperately need to be directed to a tailor. There must be other options. This simply cannot be borne.
01 February 2015 @ 02:28 pm
General relativity describes how space-time operates. As best as I can figure out, the only way that we can appear from different points in our own timeline has to do with the application of gravity. I don't know for sure, but I think that the Jump affects gravity in a manner that we don't understand yet. I keep redoing the equations, but there's a problem with the constants that I can't puzzle out. If we accept, though, a quantum model, that states that everything that can be will be (1=.9999999999999 into infinity) and that every movement of electrons at a quantum level can influence the separation of universes, then there's an infinite number of universes, right?

And we're all here because some function of the Jump Drive, that can influence matter at a quantum level. In another version of this universe, it's not you here. It's your brother, or your sister, or your cousin, or other people you don't know. But someone from your world is here in an untold number of universes, but in some universes this ship has reached a location, or has stopped moving and has killed everyone within, and space continues, bounded and infinite at once-

All right, let me start again.

I don't think that fear is any better than the things we're afraid of. Fear itself, right? It's paralyzing.

So I'm glad that's over.

I dropped a violin, the other day, during the...incidents. It was in a black case, and when I went back for it, it was gone. I would really like it if whoever picked it up could return it to me. It means a lot to me, and it's very delicate. I would like it back, please.
11 December 2014 @ 12:48 pm
[ The feed clicks on to a hand-held view of Ripley, but the screen's steady. Just close enough to make the background difficult to make out, at first, though a glimpse of green probably makes it easy to fill in the blanks. ]

My name is Ellen Ripley. [ Lieutenant, but something tells her the rank's useless, here. ] I arrived with the last jump. Thank you to those who were kind enough to fill me in on the basics.

[ Gently wry. "Kind" is a generous term for the attitude she got for her medbay interrogations, though the gratitude's honest all the same. For the most part, her expression and voice remain formal, all patient neutrality. ]

I'd appreciate it if you'd humor a few more questions — I apologize if any of it's repetitive.

Are you familiar with the name Weyland-Yutani?

Two: are we aware of the ship's purpose? Not what we're doing here, or what's happened to it since; I'd like to know what it was built for.

And if any of you have first-hand experience with the creatures in the hallways, I'd like a detailed description.

[ She's a long way from home. That's what everyone keeps telling her, except there's far too much déjà vu in the scattered records she's managed to get her hands on to ignore. It wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up in her own world only to find it slightly askew.

And while this probably sounds more like business than pleasure, it'll admittedly be nice to have some actual conversations. Speaking of social skills, she ends off with an even:

Thank you for your time.

( ooc: gentle 4th-walling is ok up to her canon point, which is the beginning of the third movie! )
10 December 2014 @ 07:48 pm
[ For perhaps the first time over the network, Elizabeth doesn't exactly look chipper. She's fidgeting, pulling at bits of her hair and moving as she talks. ]

Hello. I... I was hoping that I could ask you all your opinions, based on your own experiences. I realize that what I'm asking is situational and... well, really, private, but I really do need advice.

... When you have to kill, or... had to, before, what was it that allowed you to reason through it? Even if the act is for the greater good, it's still the taking of a life. Someone told me once that it was a necessity, though a terrible one, and I know now that he was right. Still, though, if it wasn't for survival-- for your own survival-- [ She pauses, reconsiders. ] If someone else was in danger--an innocent--is it any easier?

[ Clearly, she's never killed anyone before. Elizabeth chews on her lip, very much agitated. ]

Oh! This isn't about anyone on the ship, not at all. I'm only wondering for when I return to Columbia.
27 October 2014 @ 02:59 pm
Looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.

[Nick looks only mildly amused. He's actually had that happen, and it's not so fun, but someone's already said that they're working on it, so....]

There's way too much crappy art on board this thing, and not enough crappy artists showing themselves. I'm getting a little bored of chasing ghosts.

['Unnerved' would probably be a better word, not that he'll admit it.]

So if anyone's got a deck of cards or some dice, let's get something going. We don't even have to gamble, not unless you're willing to take a silver filling for payment.
01 August 2014 @ 12:54 am
[For once, his transmission isn't coming from the Gardens. Instead Netherlands is seated in one of the kitchens - a very, very pristine looking kitchen.]

Anyone needs help moving their shit down to the second level, I can, ah. Help.

[So eloquent. Whatever. He follows it up with a jab of his thumb to the background.]

If you move down here, don't fuck up the kitchen. Keep it clean.

[That said, he shifts in his seat and rattles off the rest, tapping on the table with each statement.]

Agriculture needs people, I've got weed and tobacco to trade, and - need to talk to someone who knows how to make clothes. Or knit. And uh. Got a football if anyone wants to play.

[The real sort of football, not the American kind.]
13 March 2014 @ 03:35 pm
This is Shepard, formerly Commander of the SSV Normandy. On the topic of signing up to do work, we've got huge unexplored sectors of this ship and that should be remedied. The ship changes at the jump [--or hell, mid-month--] but if we don't try to map it, we can't know if there's any kind of pattern to the changes. [And somewhere out there, there has to be a secondary control central for the ship seeing as no one was on the bridge when they took it.] As far as I see it: the more intel we can get, the better. And I don't know about the rest of you but I'm sick of either running blind or just waiting for something to happen.

I also realize I'm talking about dangerous work. I'm not here to tell anyone what to do, but if you're looking to help and want to volunteer then I'm all for building small scouting teams with mandatory check ins, written reports and posted communication lines. [With the unspoken message being: look, you're only cannon fodder if you don't write about it first.] I'm planning to go off the last known schematic we have of the ship. I've attached it to this message in case you haven't seen it as well as well as a short survey for anyone interested in volunteering. I'm looking to build at least five groups of three to four with a contact for each running and recording communications from a secure location.

Experience with field-ops is a bonus, but not a requirement. Weapons training is mandatory for anyone on a scouting team. If you don't have it, get it. If you don't know where to go, talk to Gunnery. For anyone looking to help with comms, technical skill is a bonus. Additionally if anyone out there has workable ideas about how to boost the network signal to deal with the ship's dead zones, I'll personally buy you a drink.

I'd appreciate cooperation with Security and Ops, but I won't argue with anyone who doesn't feel like backing this. Again: the is strictly on a volunteer basis only.

[As promised, attached to this message is a partial map of the ship and a short text document since everyone on the TQ loves surveys:]

Crew Number:
Previous Occupation:
Applicable Skills:
[ Waking up in blue goop and being told what to do and where to in a strange place that wasn't her era at all wasn't the best experience for this disoriented soldier. She was struggling to keep her balance and there was already so much to see and do.
Hange thought she was still having a very realistic dream. Her profound thoughts gather in the shower (which was also a very, VERY, cool thing) as she regains a little more consciousness. She doesn't straight up use the funny looking device she was given, but instead decide to explore her surroundings and take in as much as she can— even get acquainted with a few people. Her first initial report is through this fascinating texting feature that she doesn't really understand how to use. Therefore, there are several errors and lack of enthusiasm in her message. Probably for the best for now. ]

i was told that there are other peopple in this vessel that are possibly from a place where i am from and this is my official reach out to seehow many of them
this is possibly your squad leader from the surveyy corps please report in with haste and most importantly

are we away from them

this is the most fascinating
one of the most fascinating things i have ever seene and im going to see what happens wh e

[ The text switches to video. There's an eye, and some brown hair— looks like goggles instead of glasses she's wearing. Then, we see her concentrating hard with the tip of her tongue out at the feed before she pulls back, blinking a few times. She looks like she's in her twenties with a long, slender body— hardly any curves at all. Looks like she found her jumpsuit too. Her voice is rather deep, but bursting with an intrigued tone. ]

—Ahhh! Aah-HAH! I think this is working probably. What an interesting trinket! What is inside of it? I was told that I will be able to communicate with others this way and, this is... astounding! I have never seen anything like this before in my life!

I want to tear it apart!

[ Well. That escalated quickly. For somebody first brought on this ship, she seems to be taking things well. ]
19 February 2014 @ 09:49 am
[She's been here a lot longer then she thought she would. Clearly whatever is here is more powerful then the Lord of Hell. So since it appears she'll be here for a while longer, it probably wouldn't hurt to learn more about the sort of people she's trapped with. And of course, you'd want to know about the most important topics....]

If you could take revenge on the people who brought you here, would you?
12 February 2014 @ 11:35 pm
So, I've finally gotten access to this network... [ hmm... someone sounds wary and cautious, like he's afraid of hearing a response back. ] I have a lot of questions, and I'm seeing that I'm not alone in that regard. But for today, I just have one question that I need answered as soon as possible.

Can someone direct me to a doctor that can set me up with a new arm? I didn't really explore the medical bay too much, but I didn't see any available doctors while I was down there. [ and uh. med bays weren't the most comfortable place for him. ]
04 February 2014 @ 05:48 pm
[A burst of static opens the contact, then followed by the image of a woman with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She half-smiles as she leans on a wall, a wall she swears was trying to disintegrate not a moment ago. The little issues with the bridge are beginning to gnaw at the edges of her senses here and there, but her main problem is the condition she has. Rampancy. The deterioration of function and logic in an elderly AI. And all this overstimulation is starting to make it worse, to push her into places she thought she could hold off.]

It's loud, and it's small. No, it's big. Very strange in here.

[The feed ends. Later, another message is sent, her voice higher, more strained. Fear, anger.]

I only had the best of intentions. I wanted to do to them what they've done to us because I can't take it anymore and you shouldn't help me because what if they do it to you, too? No, don't. Don't tell them who you are. It's them and they know. They have the weapons, we don't.

[There's a loud sigh, and another burst of static distorts the image, and the feed ends. A few minutes later, it begins again, her voice calm, face placid. Sometimes she thinks she can control it. Sometimes she can. But sometimes it sends her to dark and dangerous places.]

The human mind is fragile, fragile like mine, it sort of... there's a hum, a buzz, static in my head and I can't process everything. Did you know I can think myself into nothing? I can. I probably should. It's too hard to do this, too loud, too much to want to know and not be able to think about because thinking hurts.

Pain is strange.

[A lengthy silence, filled with lines and static. Her voice is flat, as though she's merely curious.]

Am I going to die again?
20 January 2014 @ 12:49 pm
When you’re a kid, maybe you say to yourself:

"I wish I could go to Disneyland."

"I hope I'll get my cock sucked by fifteen. By sixteen, I better be banging someone in the back of dad's favorite car.”

"One day, I’ll get into Harvard and become a brown-nosing yuppie making bonuses bigger than my insecurity complex. I’ll get married even. Have a kid, maybe two. A dog. And if I'm really lucky, I won’t be miserable.”

Those are the sort of wishes that come true. The mundane ones. You don’t say: "Well, one day I’d really like to go up into space. Maybe spend a night or two in a space ship. A journey through space? Oh man, why not? Not like we've only gotten as far as the moon. ”

And then, bam. Space.

Life doesn’t work like this. You don’t get what you want and when you do, it never comes free. So, what’s the catch? Probing, space slugs taking over our brains, being sold as human cargo to a far away planet, a floating menagerie? The options are endless.

((ooc: If you guys could hit up this permissions post, it would be much appreciated. ))
17 January 2014 @ 08:29 am
[There's a fleeting glimpse of this guy - bare shoulders, wet, wildly uneven hair, grouchy face still pale and a little shocked - before the screen jumbles around, finally landing on one hell of a mess strewn across the 002 bathroom counter. What used to be the mirror over the sink is now the mirror in the sink. And on the counter. And across the floor. And - broken glass is everywhere, really, interspersed with shorn tufts of hair and a scattered array of clippers and product.

Not that Netherlands is here to talk about hair. When he speaks it's low and careful, measuring out his words as he goes.]

Has, uh -

Wanna know if anyone else has broken one-a these things. It's... weird.


just dead air and a stationary view of the wreckage for a few seconds, then he clears his throat and flips the video off.

Aaaaand about thirty seconds later flips it on again, just voice this time, all business.]

Gardens are always hiring. An' come talk to me, if you smoke. Can set something up.

[Because if he's gonna bother to post to the network he might as well make it useful, right. PRIORITIES. He's your grumpy neighborhood agriculture-head-slash-smokeables-dealer. Impromptu advertisement complete, he ends the feed for good.]

[ooc: dude broke the mirror. also threadjacking is a+ recommended]
01 December 2013 @ 09:34 pm
[ Grantaire makes a point of clearing his throat right into the device. ] A-hem. Is there a meaning, do you think, to the items we find in our lockers? If some can find a language in flowers, then surely our gifts must provide a wide vocabulary. I've received nothing since my first jump but from it was an exquisitely adequate bottle of brandy and a deck of my best cards. What does this say? I have gone over these clues for months, and yes, I've found my answer. For once, I will allow Scotus to peek his head and say, "Pluralitas non est ponenda sine necessitate." That is right, I must indulge myself in every mixture of alcohol I can attain—which I am well on my way to doing, if I may say—and find a group with which I may gamble, as well as goods that will make it worthwhile.

Now, solely to fulfill my given purpose, who will accompany me in this? I have cards, but I will also accept dominoes, dice, whatever foreign method you could desire. My only request is that we play honorably, or the spirit shall desert us. [ Was this entirely to ask for gambling partners?? Yes. ]
08 November 2013 @ 07:06 pm
While all of you are no doubt rather busy with your reunions and other such things, I believe it is prudent to take this moment to offer the services of myself or my colleague, Miss Sommers, in dealing with any of the issues that many of you have been confronted with in the last few weeks.

[ Hannibal is all neat collars and cuffs as usual, his black hair neatly groomed back, the lights adjusted so that the red in his black eyes stays hidden; the kindly and professional Dr. Fell, that's all. But for those who received memories from him, there might be a rumble of some familiar evil that menaces them; perhaps something they can't quite put their finger on. ]

Memories, particularly those of the kind we experienced, are difficult enough to overcome when they are indeed our own. Emotional conflict, losses, and for most the absence of friends and family that is not even your own to mourn, can be devastating if not turned in the appropriate direction. Some of you have been the victims of more vicious and unsettling images, such as may conflict with your own peaceable nature. I urge you not to combat these on your own. The psychological impact may be more grievous than you might at first imagine, and in those cases, the experience of a professional is a crucial tool in your continued well-being.

You are welcome to drop in any time. Please do not hesitate. If a confidential meeting or 'home visit' is required, please contact myself or Miss Sommers directly. Thank you for your time.
22 October 2013 @ 12:51 am
[Eponine appears on the network, obviously a little panicked about something. She had been trying to reach Jehan, but unfortunately, she was not adept enough at technology to filter it to him.]

Monsieur? Monsieur, I have done a bad thing - but we are friends, are we not? You will not listen to the Inspector, will you? We will still be friends, won't we?

[Impatiently, she pushed her messy fringe out of her eyes.]

He is a horrible man, you know. He deserved it, I think. [She shrugged and sighed]

I wish he were gone; life here, even when I bled from my eyes, was pleasant before he came. I do not think it will remain so now.
16 October 2013 @ 01:53 am
[ When the feed first begins, the crown-wearing woman on the other end takes a second to turn the device every which way. Despite looking quite exhausted, she still manages to look regal. Finally, upon deciding that she is doing this correctly, she smiles. Oh, yes, she is quite pleased with herself even she is still wary of this technology. If nothing else, it's at least helpful. ]

I have yet to become accustom to.. [ A pause, as she glances around. ] .. this, but I am certainly grateful that those who dwell here alongside me have been helpful. It is because of this that I feel I should apologize, even knowing I cannot help what I see. These glimpses and fragments of memories that are not my own..

[ And now she has to wonder what others may have glimpsed from her own mind. Her smile suddenly turns apologetic. ] Not all are pleasant, and I am sorry for that, but it is not my place to divulge the contents of them. I can only hope those memories are not a constant in their lives.

Are we meant to deal with such invasive happenings often?